The Spy & Lionel Lincoln

by James Fenimore Cooper

  As it was Sunday, the first impression of Lionel, on entering the room, was that his old friend, who often betrayed a keen sensibility on the subject of religion, had brought him there with a design to listen to some favourite exhorter of his own peculiar tenets, and as a tacit reproach for a neglect of the usual ordinances of that holy day, of which the conscience of the young man suddenly accused him, on finding himself unexpectedly in such a throng. But after he had forced his person among a dense body of men, who stood at the lower end of the apartment, and became a silent observer of the scene, he soon perceived his error. The weather had induced all present to appear in such garments as were best adapted to protect them from its fury; and their exteriors were rough, and perhaps a little forbidding; but there was a composure and decency in the air common to the whole assembly, which denoted that they were men who possessed in a high degree the quality of self-respect. A very few minutes sufficed to teach Lionel that he was in the midst of a meeting collected to discuss questions connected with the political movements of the times, though he felt himself a little at a loss to discover the precise results it was intended to produce. To every question, there were one or two speakers, men who expressed their ideas in a familiar manner, and with the peculiar tones and pronunciation of the province, that left no room to believe them to be orators of a higher character than the mechanics and tradesmen of the town. Most, if not all of them, wore an air of deliberation and coldness that would have rendered their sincerity in the cause they had apparently espoused, a little equivocal, but for occasional expressions of coarse, and sometimes biting invective that they expended on the ministers of the crown, and for the perfect and firm unanimity that was manifested, as each expression of the common feeling was taken after the manner of deliberative bodies. Certain resolutions, in which the most respectful remonstrances were singularly blended with the boldest assertions of constitutional principles, were read, and passed without a dissenting voice, though with a calmness that indicated no very strong excitement. Lionel was peculiarly struck with the language of these written opinions, which were expressed with a purity, and sometimes with an elegance of style, which plainly showed that the acquaintance of the sober artisan with the instrument through whose periods he was blundering, was quite recent, and far from being very intimate. The eyes of the young soldier wandered from face to face, with a strong desire to detect the secret movers of the scene he was witnessing; nor was he long without selecting one individual as an object peculiarly deserving of his suspicions. It was a man apparently but just entering into middle age, of an appearance, both in person, and in such parts of his dress as escaped from beneath his over-coat, that denoted him to be of a class altogether superior to the mass of the assembly. A deep but manly respect was evidently paid to this gentleman, by those who stood nearest to his person; and once or twice there were close and earnest communications passing between him and the more ostensible leaders of the meeting, which roused the suspicions of Lionel in the manner related. Notwithstanding the secret dislike that the English officer suddenly conceived against a man that he fancied was thus abusing his powers, by urging others to acts of insubordination, he could not conceal from himself the favourable impression made by the open, fearless, and engaging countenance of the stranger. Lionel was so situated as to be able to keep his person, which was partly concealed by the taller forms that surrounded him, in constant view; nor was it long before his earnest and curious gaze caught the attention of the other. Glances of marked meaning were exchanged between them during the remainder of the evening, until the chairman announced that the objects of the convocation were accomplished, and dissolved the meeting.

  Lionel raised himself from his reclining attitude against the wall, and submitted to be carried by the current of human bodies into the dark passage through which he had entered the room. Here he lingered a moment, with a view to recover his lost companion, and with a secret wish to scan more narrowly the proceedings of the man whose air and manner had so long chained his attention. The crowd had sensibly diminished before he was aware that few remained beside himself, nor would he then have discovered that he was likely to become an object of suspicion to those few, had not a voice at his elbow recalled his recollection.

  “Does Major Lincoln meet his countrymen to-night as one who sympathizes in their wrongs, or as the favoured and prosperous officer of the crown?” asked the very man for whose person he had so long been looking in vain.

  “Is sympathy with the oppressed incompatible with loyalty to my Prince?” demanded Lionel.

  “That it is not,” said the stranger, in a friendly accent, “is apparent from the conduct of many gallant Englishmen among us, who espouse our cause—but we claim Major Lincoln for a countryman.”

  “Perhaps, sir, it would be indiscreet just now to disavow that title, let my dispositions be as they may,” returned Lionel, smiling a little haughtily; “this may not be as secure a spot in which to avow one’s sentiments, as the town-common, or the palace of St. James.”

  “Had the king been present to-night, Major Lincoln, would he have heard a single sentence opposed to that constitution which has declared him a member too sacred to be offended?”

  “Whatever may have been the legality of your sentiments, sir, they surely have not been expressed in language altogether fit for a royal ear.”

  “It may not have been adulation, or even flattery, but it is truth—a quality no less sacred than the rights of kings.”

  “This is neither a place nor an occasion, sir,” said the young soldier, quickly, “to discuss the rights of our common master; but if, as from your manner and your language, I think not improbable, we should meet hereafter in a higher sphere, you will not find me at a loss to vindicate his claims.”

  The stranger smiled with meaning, and as he bowed before he fell back and was lost in the darkness of the passage, he replied—

  “Our fathers have often met in such society, I believe; God forbid that their sons should ever encounter in a less friendly manner.”

  Lionel now finding himself alone, groped his way into the street, where he perceived Ralph and the lad in waiting for his appearance. Without demanding the cause of the other’s delay, the old man proceeded by the side of his companion, with the same indifference to the tempest as before, towards the residence of Mrs. Lechmere.

  “You have now had some evidence of the spirit that pervades this people,” said Ralph, after a few moments of silence; “think you still there is no danger that the volcano will explode?”

  “Surely every thing I have heard and seen to-night, confirms such an opinion,” returned Lionel. “Men on the threshold of rebellion seldom reason so closely, and with such moderation. Why, the very fuel for the combustion, the rabble themselves, discuss their constitutional principles, and keep under the mantle of law, as if they were a club of learned Templars.”

  “Think you that the fire will burn less steadily, because what you call the fuel has been prepared by the seasoning of time,” returned Ralph. “But this comes from sending a youth into a foreign land for his education! The boy rates his sober and earnest countrymen on a level with the peasants of Europe.”

  So much Lionel was able to comprehend, but notwithstanding the old man muttered vehemently to himself for some time longer, it was in a tone too indistinct for his ear to understand his meaning. When they arrived in a part of the town with which Lionel was familiar, his aged guide pointed out his way, and took his leave, saying—

  “I see that nothing but the last, and dreadful argument of force, will convince you of the purpose of the Americans to resist their oppressors. God avert the evil hour! but when it shall come, as come it must, you will learn your error, young man, and, I trust, will not disregard the natural ties of country and kindred.”

  Lionel would have spoken in reply, but the rapid steps of Ralph rendered his wishes vain, for before he had time to utter, the emaciated form was see
n gliding, like an immaterial being, through the sheets of driving rain, and was soon lost to the eye, as it vanished in the dim shades of night, followed by the more substantial frame of the idiot.

  * These allusions may render it necessary to add, that “Liberty-tree” was made to exercise the functions of the statue of Pasquin at Rome. [1832]

  Chapter VII

  “Sergeant, you shall. Thus are poor servitors,

  When others sleep upon their quiet beds,

  Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.”

  King Henry VI.

  * * *

  TWO OR THREE days of fine, balmy, spring weather succeeded to the storm, during which Lionel saw no more of his aged fellow-voyager. Job, however, attached himself to the British soldier with a confiding helplessness that touched the heart of his young protector, who gathered from the circumstance a just opinion of the nature of the abuses that the unfortunate youth was frequently compelled to endure from the soldiery. Meriton performed the functions of master of the wardrobe to the lad, by Lionel’s express commands, with evident disgust, but with manifest advantage to the external appearance, if with no very sensible evidence of additional comfort to his charge. During this short period, the slight impression made on Lionel by the scene related in the preceding chapter, faded before the cheerful changes of the season, and the increasing interest which he felt in the society of his youthful kinswomen. Polwarth relieved him from all cares of a domestic nature, and the peculiar shade of sadness, which at times had been so very perceptible in his countenance, was changed to a look of a more brightening and cheerful character. Polwarth and Lionel had found an officer, who formerly served in the same regiment with them in the British Islands, in command of a company of grenadiers, which formed part of the garrison of Boston. This gentleman, an Irishman of the name of M’Fuse, was qualified to do great honour to the culinary skill of the officer of light-infantry, by virtue of a keen natural gusto for whatever possessed the inherent properties of a savoury taste, though utterly destitute of any of that remarkable scientific knowledge which might be said to distinguish the other in the art. He was, in consequence of this double claim on the notice of Lionel, a frequent guest at the nightly banquets prepared by Polwarth. Accordingly we find him, on the evening of the third day in the week, seated with his two friends, around a board plentifully garnished by the care of that gentleman, on the preparations for which, more than usual skill had been exerted, if the repeated declarations of the disciple of Heliogabalus, to that effect, were entitled to credit.

  “In short, Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth, in continuance of his favourite theme, while seated before the table, “a man may live any where, provided he possesses food—in England, or out of England, it matters not. Raiment may be necessary to appearance, but food is the only indispensable that nature has imposed on the animal world; and in my opinion there is a sort of obligation on every man to be satisfied, who has wherewithal to appease the cravings of his appetite—Captain M’Fuse, I will thank you to cut that surloin with the grain.”

  “What matters it Polly”—said the captain of grenadiers, with a slight Irish accent, and with the humour of his countrymen strongly depicted in his fine features, “which way a bit of meat is divided, so there be enough to allay the cravings of the appetite!”

  “It is a collateral assistance to nature that should never be neglected,” returned Polwarth, whose gravity and seriousness at his banquets were not easily disturbed; “it facilitates mastication and aids digestion, two considerations of great importance to military men, sir, who have frequently little time for the former, and no rest after their meals to complete the latter.”

  “He reasons like an army contractor, who wishes to make one ration do the work of two, when transportation is high,” said M’Fuse, winking to Lionel. “According to your principles, Polly, a potato is your true campaigner, for that is a cr’ature you may cut any way without disturbing the grain, provided the article be a little m’aly.”

  “Pardon me, captain M’Fuse,” said Polwarth, “a potato should be broken, and not cut at all—there is no vegetable more used, and less understood than the potato.”

  “And is it you, Pater Polwarth, of Nesbitt’s light-infantry,” interrupted the grenadier, laying down his knife and fork with an air of infinite humour, “that will tell Dennis M’Fuse how to carve a potato! I will yield to the right of an Englishman over the chivalry of an ox, your sirloins, and your lady-rumps, if you please, but in my own country, one end of every farm is a bog, and the other a potato-field—’tis an Irishman’s patrimony that you are making so free with, sir!”

  “The possession of a thing, and the knowledge how to use it, are two different properties—”

  “Give me the property of possession, then,” interrupted the ardent grenadier, “especially when a morsel of the green island is in dispute; and trust an old soldier of the Royal Irish to carve his own enjoyments. Now, I’ll wager a month’s pay, and that to me is as much as if the Major should say, done for a thousand, that you can’t tell how many dishes can be made, and are made every day in Ireland, out of so simple a thing as a potato.”

  “You roast and boil; and use them in stuffing tame birds, sometimes, and—”

  “All old woman’s cookery!” interrupted M’Fuse, with an affectation of contempt—“now, sir, we have them with butter, and without butter, that counts two; then we have the fruit p’aled; and—”

  “Impaled,” said Lionel, laughing. “I believe this nice controversy must be referred to Job, who is amusing himself in the corner there, with the very subject of the dispute transfixed on his fork, in the latter condition.”

  “Or suppose, rather,” said M’Fuse, “as it is a matter to exercise the judgment of Solomon, we make a potato umpire of master Seth Sage, yonder, who should have some of the wisdom of the royal Jew, by the sagacity of his countenance, as well as of his name.”

  “Don’t you call Seth r’yal,” said Job, suspending his occupation on the vegetable. “The king is r’yal and fla’nty, but neighbour Sage lets Job come in and eat, like a christian.”

  “That lad there, is not altogether without reason, Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth; “on the contrary, he discovers an instinctive knowledge of good from evil, by favouring us with his company at the hour of meals.”

  “The poor fellow finds but little at home to tempt him to remain there, I fear,” said Lionel; “and as he was one of the first acquaintances I made on returning to my native land, I have desired Mr. Sage to admit him at all proper hours; especially, Polwarth, at those times when he can have an opportunity of doing homage to your skill.”

  “I am glad to see him,” said Polwarth, “for I love an uninstructed palate, as much as I admire naiveté in a woman.—Be so good as to favour me with a cut from the breast of that wild-goose, M’Fuse—not quite so far forward, if you please; your migratory birds are apt to be tough about the wing—but simplicity in eating is, after all, the great secret of life; that and a sufficiency of food.”

  “You may be right this time,” replied the grenadier, laughing, “for this fellow made one of the flankers of the flock, and did double duty in wheeling, I believe, or I have got him against the grain too! But, Polly, you have not told us how you improve in your light-infantry exercises of late.”

  By this time Polwarth had made such progress in the essential part of his meal, as to have recovered in some measure his usual tone of good-nature, and he answered with less gravity—

  “If Gage does not work a reformation in our habits, he will fag us all to death. I suppose you know, Leo, that all the flank companies are relieved from the guards to learn a new species of exercise. They call it relieving us, but the only relief I find in the matter, is when we lie down to fire—there is a luxurious moment or two then, I must confess!”

  “I have known the fact, any time these ten days, by your moanings,” returned L
ionel; “but what do you argue from this particular exercise, captain M’Fuse? does Gage contemplate more than the customary drills?”

  “You question me now, sir, on a matter in which I am uninstructed,” said the grenadier; “I am a soldier, and obey my orders, without pretending to inquire into their objects or merits; all I know is, that both grenadiers and light-infantry are taken from the guards; and that we travel over a good deal of solid earth each day, in the way of marching and counter-marching, to the manifest discomfiture and reduction of Polly—there, who loses flesh as fast as he gains ground.”

  “Do you think so, Mac?” cried the delighted captain of light-infantry; “then I have not all the detestable motion in vain. They have given us little Harry Skip as a drill officer, who I believe has the most restless foot of any man in his majesty’s service. Do you join with me in opinion, master Sage? you seem to meditate on the subject as if it had some secret charm.”

  The individual to whom Polwarth addressed this question, and who has been already named, was standing with a plate in his hand, in an attitude that bespoke close attention, with a sudden and deep interest in the discourse, though his eyes were bent on the floor, and his face was averted as if, while listening earnestly, he had a particular desire to be unnoticed. He was the owner of the house in which Lionel had taken his quarters. His family had some time before removed into the country, under the pretence of his inability to maintain them in a place destitute of business and resources like Boston; but he remained himself, for the double purpose of protecting his property and serving his guests. This man partook, in no small degree, of the qualities, both of person and mind, which distinguish a large class among his countrymen. In the former he was rather over than under the middle stature; was thin, angular, and awkward, but possessing an unusual proportion of sinew and bone. His eyes were small, black, scintillating, and it was not easy to fancy that the intelligence they manifested was unmingled with a large proportion of shrewdness. The rest of his countenance was meager, sallow, and rigidly demure. Thus called upon, on a sudden, by Polwarth for an opinion, Seth answered, with the cautious reserve with which he invariably delivered himself—