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_STANDARD LITERATURE SERIES_
THE SPY
BY
J. FENIMORE COOPER
CONDENSED FOR USE IN SCHOOLS
_WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND EXPLANATORY NOTES_
NEW YORK AND NEW ORLEANS
UNIVERSITY PUBLISHING CO.
1898
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
UNIVERSITY PUBLISHING CO.
Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Astor Place, New York
INTRODUCTION.
James Fenimore Cooper was born in Burlington, N. J., in 1789--the year
in which George Washington was inaugurated first President of the
United States. His boyhood was passed at Cooperstown, N. Y., a village
founded by his father. After completing his studies at Yale, young
Cooper entered the American navy as midshipman, subsequently obtaining
the rank of lieutenant. He also made some voyages in a merchant
vessel, and in this service acquired that knowledge of sea life of
which he made good use in many of his novels.
Cooper has been styled the Walter Scott of America. It is hardly an
exaggeration to rank him so high, for he has done for America what
Scott did for Scotland: he has illustrated and popularized much of its
history and many of its olden traditions in stories that will have
appreciative readers so long as the English language is spoken. As a
recent writer observes, he "wrote for men and women as well as for
boys and girls," and the best of his stories are "purely American,
native born, and native bred."
Another distinction must be assigned to Cooper, and it is a mark of
high merit: he was the first American novelist who became widely known
and esteemed in foreign countries. "The Spy" appeared in 1821--a time
when American literature was in its infancy. Though but the second of
the author's works, it immediately became popular on both sides of the
Atlantic. It was translated into several European languages, and may
even, we are told, be read in the Persian tongue.
Other stories quickly followed. "The Pioneer" was published in 1822.
This and "The Deerslayer," "The Pathfinder," "The Last of the
Mohicans," and "The Prairie" belong to the series known as the
Leatherstocking Tales, so called from Leatherstocking Natty, the most
celebrated of the characters introduced. These deal with life and
adventure among the Indians, in description of which Cooper surpassed
all other writers. The sea tales include "The Pilot," published in
1823; "The Red Rover," in 1827; "The Waterwitch," in 1830; "The Two
Admirals," in 1842, and "The Sea Lions," in 1849. Altogether, Cooper
wrote thirty-three novels, many of them universally recognized as
entitled to first rank in that field of literature, and all full of
interest to the lover of romance.
In 1826 Cooper visited Europe, and remained for several years,
continuing his literary work and producing, in addition to novels,
some volumes of sketches of European society. He returned to America
in 1833. His last book, "The Ways of the Hour," which deals with
abuses of trial by jury, was published in 1850. He died on the 14th
of September the following year at Cooperstown.
HISTORICAL NOTE.
The events of the patriot Revolution afforded ample and excellent
subject-matter for the genius of Cooper; and in "The Spy" he treats
his material in a manner which has made the work a favorite with all
lovers of fiction. The scene of the story is laid chiefly in that part
of New York State lying immediately north and northeast of Manhattan
Island. At the period referred to New York was held by the British,
under command of Sir Henry Clinton, having been taken after the defeat
of the Americans at the Battle of Long Island on August 27, 1776. At
the same time the Americans possessed nearly all the rest of the
State. The district lying between the British and the American lines,
and extending over the greater part of Westchester County, was known
as the "neutral ground." Here the principal events of the story are
placed.
This district having then practically no government, the inhabitants
suffered much, not only through the military operations of the hostile
forces, but from bands of marauders known as "cowboys" and "skinners."
The latter, professing to be supporters of the American cause, roamed
over the neutral ground, robbing Tories (friends of the British) and
others who refused to take an oath of fidelity to the new republic,
while those consenting to take the oath were attacked and plundered by
the cowboys, who carried on their depredations as British partisans.
The hero of "The Spy" is not altogether a fictitious character. In the
introduction to one of the editions of the book the author tells us
that he took the idea of Harvey Birch from a real person who was
actually engaged in the secret service of the American Committee of
Safety--a committee appointed by Congress to discover and defeat the
various schemes projected by the Tories in conjunction with the
British to aid the latter against the republican government. Spies
were, of course, employed on both sides during the struggle, and it
may readily be believed that among the patriot Americans there were
many who were willing, without desire of earthly reward, not only to
encounter hardships and danger to life for their country's cause, but
to risk even loss of reputation, as Harvey Birch did.
THE SPY.
CHAPTER I.
A RURAL SCENE IN 1780.
It was near the close of the year 1780 that a solitary traveller was
seen pursuing his way through one of the numerous little valleys of
Westchester. The county of Westchester, after the British had obtained
possession of the island of New York, became common ground, in which
both parties continued to act for the remainder of the War of the
Revolution. A large portion of its inhabitants, either restrained by
their attachments or influenced by their fears, affected a neutrality
they did not feel. The lower towns were, of course, more particularly
under the domain of the crown, while the upper, finding a security
from the vicinity of the Continental[1] troops, were bold in asserting
their revolutionary opinions and their right to govern themselves.
Great numbers, however, wore masks, which even to this day have not
been thrown aside; and many an individual has gone down to the tomb
stigmatized as a foe to the rights of his countrymen, while, in
secret, he has been the useful agent of the leaders of the Revolution;
and, on the other hand, could the hidden repositories of divers
flaming patriots have been opened to the light of day, royal
protections would have been discovered concealed under piles of
British gold.
[Footnote 1: The term "Continental" was applied to the army
of the Colonies, to their Congress, to the money issued by
Congress, etc.]
The passage of a stranger, with an appearance of somewhat doubtful
character, and mounted on an animal which, although unfurnished with
any of the ordinary trappings of war, partook largely of the bold and
upright carriage that distinguished his rider, gave rise to many
surmises[2] among the gazing inmates of the different habitations; and
in some instances, where conscience was more than ordinarily awake, to
a little alarm.
[Footnote 2: guesses.]
Tired with the exercise of a day of unusual fatigue, and anxious to
obtain a speedy shelter from the increasing violence of the storm,
that now began to change its character to large drops of driving rain,
the traveller determined, as a matter of necessity, to make an
application for admission to the next dwelling that offered.
Sufficient light yet remained to enable the traveller to distinguish
the improvements which had been made in the cultivation and in the
general appearance of the grounds around the building to which he was
now approaching. The house was of stone, long, low, and with a low
wing at each extremity. A piazza, extending along the front, with
neatly turned pillars of wood, together with the good order and
preservation of the fences and out-buildings, gave the place an air
altogether superior to the common farm-houses of the country. After
leading his horse behind an angle of the wall, where it was in some
degree protected from the wind and rain, the traveller threw his
valise over his arm, and knocked loudly at the entrance of the
building for admission. An aged black soon appeared, and without
seeming to think it necessary, under the circumstances, to consult
his superiors, first taking one prying look at the applicant by the
light of the candle in his hand, he acceded to the request for
accommodations. The traveller was shown into an extremely neat parlor,
where a fire had been lighted to cheer the dulness of an easterly
storm and an October evening. After giving the valise into the keeping
of his civil attendant, and politely repeating the request to the old
gentleman who rose to receive him, and paying his compliments to the
three ladies who were seated at work with their needles, the stranger
commenced laying aside some of the outer garments which he had worn in
his ride.
After handing a glass of excellent Madeira to his guest, Mr. Wharton,
for so was the owner of this retired estate called, resumed his seat
by the fire, with another in his own hand. For a moment he paused, as
if debating with his politeness, but at length he threw an inquiring
glance on the stranger, as he inquired:
"To whose health am I to have the honor of drinking?"
The young ladies had again taken their seats beside the work-stand,
while their aunt, Miss Jeanette Peyton, withdrew to superintend the
preparations necessary to appease the hunger of their unexpected
visitor.
The traveller had also seated himself, and he sat unconsciously gazing
on the fire while Mr. Wharton spoke; turning his eyes slowly on his
host with a look of close observation, he replied, while a faint tinge
gathered on his features:
"Mr. Harper."
"Mr. Harper," resumed the other, with the formal precision of that
day, "I have the honor to drink your health, and to hope you will
sustain no injury from the rain to which you have been exposed."
Mr. Harper bowed in silence to the compliment, and he soon resumed the
meditations from which he had been interrupted, and for which the long
ride he had that day made, in the wind, might seem a very natural
apology.
Mr. Wharton had in vain endeavored to pierce the disguise of his
guest's political feelings. He arose and led the way into another room
and to the supper-table. Mr. Harper offered his hand to Sarah Wharton,
and they entered the room together; while Frances followed, greatly at
a loss to know whether she had not wounded the feelings of her
father's inmate.
The storm began to rage in greater violence without, when a loud
summons at the outer door again called the faithful black to the
portal. In a minute the servant returned, and informed his master that
another traveller, overtaken by the storm, desired to be admitted to
the house for shelter through the night.
Some of the dishes were replaced by the orders of Miss Peyton, and
the weather-beaten intruder was invited to partake of the remains of
the repast, from which the party had just risen. Throwing aside a
rough great-coat, he very composedly took the offered chair, and
unceremoniously proceeded to allay the cravings of an appetite which
appeared by no means delicate. But at every mouthful he would turn an
unquiet eye on Harper, who studied his appearance with a closeness of
investigation that was very embarrassing to its subject. At length,
pouring out a glass of wine, the newcomer nodded significantly to
his examiner, previously to swallowing the liquor, and said, with
something of bitterness in his manner:
"I drink to our better acquaintance, sir; I believe this is the first
time we have met, though your attention would seem to say otherwise."
"I think we have never met before, sir," replied Harper, with a slight
smile on his features, rising and desiring to be shown to his place of
rest. A small boy was directed to guide him to his room; and, wishing
a courteous good-night to the whole party, the traveller withdrew. The
knife and fork fell from the hands of the unwelcome intruder as the
door closed on the retiring figure of Harper; he rose slowly from
his seat; listening attentively, he approached the door of the room,
opened it, seemed to attend to the retreating footsteps of the other,
and, amidst the panic and astonishment of his companions, he closed it
again. In an instant the red wig which concealed his black locks, the
large patch which hid half his face from observation, the stoop that
had made him appear fifty years of age, disappeared.
"My father, my dear father!" cried the handsome young man; "and you,
my dearest sisters and aunt!--have I at last met you again?"
"Heaven bless you, my Henry, my son!" exclaimed the astonished but
delighted parent; while his sisters sunk on his shoulders, dissolved
in tears.