The Maze at Windermere

by Gregory Blake Smith

  We listened to the night sounds. There was distant music from one of the hotels. The colorful feathers of her hat had turned gray.

  “Though perhaps, after all,” she mused when another minute had passed, “perhaps all we know are details. Perhaps details are the thing itself.”

  She smiled at me as if to beg my forgiveness, and then she did something that would have disconcerted me earlier but which, in the circumstances of the cemetery and the spell it had cast over us, seemed natural. She put her hand in my arm and with her other hand pressed me upon the wrist, and together we made our way back to the cemetery gate. When we reached the street, she removed her hand.

  On the veranda of the Ocean with its oil lamps brightly lit, color and gaiety all around and the sound of a waltz from the Germanians within, I told her I would enjoy being her docent to the real Newport if she would have me. I told her that I had a young sister who was but a few years older than her brother; perhaps together they could act as our dame de compagnie, our chaperone, I added, for I was unsure of her French. My sister was sickly and could do with getting out in the air.

  “Her name is Alice, too,” I said, beaming.

  1778

  Apr 7

  Am returned from my northern Reconnaissance and have finished the Draft of my report. I have given it to Colo Wharton for his Approval before handing it to Genl Pigot.

  The days preceding my Departure had been filled with the rumor that Burgoyne would embark for England from Newport. And now that I am returned I discover that Gentleman Johnny is indeed amongst us. He comes from Cambridge where he has left the remnants of the Convention Army, and is attended by an Aide de Camp to the American Genl Heath, who after the Saratoga surrender is placed in charge of the Convention Army. With them is a Rebel Commissary who is charged with making arrangements for supplying the surrendered troops. We have not enough Provisions for the Newport garrison, but now we are to feed a dis-armed Army as well.

  Burgoyne is to embark in a few days upon The Grampus, storeship.

  The billeted Officers had yet another discussion as to whether Gentleman Johnny is disgraced. Rumor says he is impatient to Embark and that once returned to England will demand a Court-Martial that he may defend himself against the many Calumniations of his conduct in the late Battle. Smithson expresses the opinion that a General’s duty is to win at battle, but if he cannot, if he is surrounded by superior Forces as Burgoyne was at Saratoga, then to seek the best Terms he can and that Burgoyne has done that, and that the Freedom of the Convention Army as well as his own person to return to England on their Parole is the proof of that. To which I expressed the opinion that a General’s duty is to not get his Army surrounded in the first place. There was a general Agreement that the true danger of the Action was that it would embolden France, for the French will see that these Colonials are perhaps not the Bumpkins they are thought. We might find our Action after all.

  The Weather has turned fine. Spent an hour walking the Meadow to see if the Birds are returned and had a moment of exquisite feeling standing alone atop a rise with the Warmth of the breeze on my face, and the smell of the Waking earth in my nostrils, and not caring about anything.

  Apr 8

  We are to have an Assembly in Genl Burgoyne’s honor. He is said to have attempted to dissuade the organizers, for in Cambridge a similar occasion was a great Failure, the Ladies of Boston being unwilling to come out, but here in Newport they are determined to right that Wrong. As an Officer of Genl Pigot’s staff I am invited.

  Have had an Interview with Phyllis in which I acquainted her with my Design. I was blunt with her, for I fancy the life of a Slave quickly cures one of being a Fool, and she is none. I will risk her informing Da Silva of my intentions. I think she will not. It is in her interest to work my Purse instead. Indeed, it struck me that there was some Desire in her to see her Mistress played.

  So I have instructed her to send me word when her Master quits his house, so that I may appear to call upon him, and not finding him at home may have Occasion to be entertained by Judith. A simple move, but a promising one.

  Should she need to send a Boy, we have a Signal for him to use so that he will not be an Ear to our Duplicity.

  Apr 9

  Sailed into the Harbour some days ago the Isis from New York carrying letters that had lately arrived by the February packet from England and they are finally distributed. I have received five, one from Father, one from William, and three from Mother. Mother frets that William is as yet unmarried and wonders how I am to marry being at the ends of the Earth. She writes no further of my Melancholia. The future Lord Stevens for his part is only interested in his dogs. The second page of his letter is devoted to the most astute Analysis of the abilities of Hecate who he was sure I would remember was of Persephone’s litter just before I left England. It would seem Hecate has a sixth-sense for foxes. Brava, Hecate.

  Father maintains he is working to get me Preferred so that I may return to London. He fancies I might be attached to Lord Hazlitt’s staff, but this, of course, will cost money, my Commission having already set back the Family’s Fortune £6000, he writes in case I had forgotten.

  Mother writes of Elizabeth, would have me imagine the girl sits under the Oaks & Ashes of Crosswell and pines for me.

  Apr 10

  Genl Burgoyne has had his Assembly and the Ladies of Newport did indeed turn out. There were 40 of them, another 60 of the men, and perhaps 60 British officers. There was punch and dainty Victuals and a violin band to play. A receiving line was run past the General, who looked weary tho’ I could see traces of the Courtliness that has given him his Nick-Name.

  The gathering was held in a public building of some Pretension which the townspeople call The Colony House, and whose ground floor is given over to a Great Room rather like those of our Guild Halls. I went out of a desire for Amusement, but as well because I knew Da Silva would be there with Judith. I arrived before they did, paid my respects to the General, and then stood about with some of the Officers remarking on the women who took the occasion, in these times so rare, to come out in their Finery. Some of the local servants seemed to be on loan, for I saw Hannibal amongst others acting as Footmen & Servers. I was struck again at the sight of Africans in such fine livery. ’Tis something you see on occasion in London, tho’ more as Piquant decoration whereas here it is the common thing. The punch was not bad, the Musicians a little out of the habit of making social Music, but all things considered, not too dreadful. Tho’ only April, it was warm, and the great doors to the outside were kept open, as were some of the Windows.

  When Da Silva arrived I broke from my group and went to him and after inquiring after his and Miss Da Silva’s health, asked whether I might not present him to Genl Burgoyne. Judith was dressed in a most stunning green Brocade. I could feel upon her the eyes of the Officers I had lately quitted, for her hair was most becomingly done and her Charms resplendently displayed. Whether the General and the others considered it fitting for a Jew to be presented I did not concern myself with. Was not the corset of Convention loosened in time of War? I so managed the thing that Da Silva seemed a necessary Accompaniment to Judith’s Beauty. Indeed, I told the General that she was considered the Rose of Newport, to which he responded in his most Gallant manner that she seemed rather an exotic Orchid. But he clearly did not mind being in her Presence, for she was Radiant in the candlelight, and a little overwhelmed in a most Bewitching way.

  There is a Mister Kent in Newport who is accounted something of a Dancing Master and it was given to him to organize the Dancing. He, I think, wanted to show his Students off and so had the musicians begin with a French Allemande and a Cotillion, but with their complicated steps they were not a Success. We settled instead into simpler dances, had a Minuet and a Rigadoon and a Scottish Reel. I danced the longways dances, and some Diversions, and when once I was partnered with Judith gave her hand a squeeze the meaning
of which she could not help understand.

  I drank perhaps too much of the Rum punch. For I began to have the feeling that I sometimes have and which was a Prelude to the Incident with Mrs. Winter in Cambridge. I danced and was danced with. I felt the women under my fingertips, felt the Silk of their waists and their arms, felt their Smiles turned upon my face. I was as handsome and as Favoured as any man there, and yet I felt that Feeling again, that overwhelming Sensation I have at these moments of Exclusion. I do not know how to say it. It is as if I am standing outside the World and looking in, as if I am on the Edge of the world’s Orchard and I can see the Fruit hanging on the trees but am denied them. Or again, as if I am forbidden to hunt on the Grounds on which I stand, and yet the Grounds are somehow my grounds. It is not just Exclusion, but Exclusion from that which is Mine, that which I have a Right to. I know not how much of it was the rum and how much of it was the antic Disposition that at times besets me, but I felt a deep Anger at being Debarred, as if Judith’s Beauty were a direct taunt to me, as if the display of her Charms were as an Article in a shop window with a Price beyond my means. And yet that is not it either. For it was not just dancing with Judith and then having to relinquish her. That is but mere Impatience. It is that and yet not that, is instead, or in addition to—how to say it?—it is somewhat like the feeling Lucifer experiences when he stands outside Eden and sees the Beauty and Innocence of Paradise and feels himself forever Divorced from it. It is the Awareness of Goodness and Vitality residing outside oneself which one can never Possess and so must Destroy. And so it happened that I, under the Influence of the rum and of this Sensation that I can only characterize as a State of mental Aberration, that I heard a Major Browning of the Engineers make a remark about the Jewess’s physical Attributes (this was toward the end of the evening when Da Silva and Judith and several others were leaving), some remark he would never have made about an Englishwoman and I found myself accosting the man and slapping him.

  There ensued a Consternation over the Insult, a simultaneous attempt at Appeasement and a drawing up of sides. I watched it all as if I were not only Debarred from the world but from my own self. Yet so ingrained is the practice of being a Gentleman that I said the things I needed to say, struck the Pose I needed to strike. There was talk of Seconds and at the same time the Urging that this was no Cause for a Hostility. Had we not Enemy enough? It was just an idle Remark, &c.

  I said the Major need only enquire as to where I was Billeted if he wished Satisfaction, and turned to leave. But I was quickly surrounded by those Officers of the Fusiliers who were in attendance, the Engineers rallying to Major Browning. There were further calls on both sides for Harmony & Forbearance, but I struck off, walking out onto the Parade Ground toward Thames Street, shrugging off those who would accompany me.

  And all the time, I still felt it. The twin urgings. One, the dim mystical Apprehension that I was excluded from the Orchard; and the other, the clear, hot, manly Resolution that I would eat of the fruit of that Orchard, violently if that was what it took.

  It was something like this, some Eruption against Goodness and Beauty and Innocence—against Life itself!—that was in me when I stood in front of my mirror, my shirt undone, my razor in my hand . . .

  Apr 11

  I had barely time this morning to address myself to Smithson on the matter of his being my Second when there came to the house a Major Jensen of the Engineers with words to the effect that Major Browning hoped Major Ballard would understand that his Remark the previous night was merely an Expression of a Soldier’s Frustration, and were not the Lot of us the worse for lacking the Company & Solace of the inferior Sex?

  I offered him a chair and the last of Bradshaw’s coffee, which we drank while a newly returned Warbler in the Forsythia bush outside the breakfast window did its best to record the Terms of Surrender.

  No sign today of last night’s Fit, or rather it remains as the distant thunder of a departing Storm. With each passing hour I regain some of my accustomed Confidence. Will soon move my Rooks onto an open File.

  Apr 12

  Went out this morning to find myself with the absurd Renown of being a defender of the Reputation of a young lady. Indeed of all young ladies, for it is allowed the One in question could not be of import to me, and that for defending a poor Jewess on behalf of all the Innocent Ladies I am accounted the Noblest of Knights. Bradshaw says he personally knows of a young lady or two back in Somerset that require defending, could I not embark with Gentleman Johnny and attend to them? There are other such Quips and Cranks, but behind all the Raillery is, I sense, some new respect, poorly earned, I allow, but useful nonetheless. A hasty order from Genl Pigot that he will not tolerate Dueling amongst his Subordinates has only served to brighten the buttons on my uniform.

  And now the Morsel most choice! For Phyllis came this evening with a letter from Judith. She gave it me with a smile at our Conspiracy. I allowed myself a Private moment with her and when she was gone, read the Letter. I will reproduce it here and then leave the Artifact within these pages so that years hence it may amuse me.

  Dear Major Ballard,

  I have been apprised of your Behavior in Defence of my Person the night of the Assembly. The World keeps the exact Circumstances from me out of Concern for what it considers a young woman’s Innocence, but I am led to believe that you acted as my Protector and at great personal Risk. You cannot know how deep is my Gratitude, nor how Relieved I am that the Fineness of your Spirit has not brought with it a Cost to your Person. That you would risk your Life for my Honor appears to me the Greatest Proof I might have of your Friendship. I have taken the Liberty of writing to you that you may be assured of the Esteem in which I hold you. ’Tis perhaps a Brazen Act for a girl of Sixteen, but how could I comport myself under the Cowardliness of Social Stricture when you have shown yourself so publicly Courageous? I am forever in your Debt.

  Judith Da Silva

  I have just finished composing my own Letter in which I tell the Jewess how much I treasure her Note and the Sensibility it communicates. And I tell her in turn of my own Esteem, of my Admiration for her person, and of how she occupies my thoughts, and of how I would willingly do her any Service, &c., and of how my Imagination dreams of being with her alone that we might have freedom to converse without the Strictures of Society, for I believe (I wrote) that we both understood how the Differences in our outer selves, our varying Stations in life, even the Religions in which we were reared, were unimportant, that the Heart has its own Truth, sees with its own Superior eye, and that Love would o’erleap any barrier, &c.

  I will let the Letter tread water overnight and in the morning, if I think it not too Bold a move, will have Phyllis deliver it.

  Apr 15

  Burgoyne has sailed aboard The Grampus. There were a number of us come down to the wharves to watch. These several days past it has been a question whether there would be a Salute as the ship left the Harbour. Bradshaw and I have half-a-crown on the question. There was none.

  Coming back, I passed the tavern Da Silva mentioned in his story about the Tidewaiter. And indeed there are about the dirty place water Rats enough that I fancy a handful of Guineas could find one to do a Deed if a Deed needed doing.

  And let me put down now what I forbore to put down the night of the Assembly, so addled was I then by the events. And it is this: that after I left the Colony House I was in such a State that I could not return to my Room, but instead walked along Thames Street and Franklin Street, past those same Taverns and low Inns. My mind was afire, yet not so much with the recent Altercation and the prospect of a Duel, but with the physical beauty of the Jewess. It was some Combination of the prolonged Months of my Attention to her, and of the sight of her that night in her green Brocade, and the touch of her as we danced, and the Damned mental Fit that I know not how to explain, but I felt as tho’ I had swallowed her like a Poison, for she worked in me so that I was Aroused
beyond all Sanity. How she was one minute the Fruit of an Orchard from which I was forbidden, and the next a Poison in my Veins, I know not, but it was so. I went down amongst the wharves where there were Whores about, went in and out of the Taverns thinking I might blunt the Passion with one of them, yet I could not. In time my feet carried me to Da Silva’s. I stood in the shadows across the way and looked at the broad face of the House. I do not know, even now, what I intended to do. There was no light in any of the rooms, neither in the Kitchen toward the rear, nor on the third floor where Phyllis and the other servants had their Chambers. I went up to the door and tried the latch. I think I had the idea that I would enter, would go upstairs and have—ah!—have Phyllis if nothing else. But of course the door was barred. I walked then to the farthest point of the Wharf, to where we had all watched the Sun set that evening a Fortnight past, and stood there with the lights of the Fleet twinkling against the darkness, and there I unbuttoned my Flies and closed my eyes and spilled my Seed into the Harbour water.

  1692

  1st Day

  After Meeting, John Peele approach’d me and ask’d if he might not come to the House on a Visit later that day. I waited for him, and again I had a fore-knowledge of what he might say. We sat in the Parlour, me with my coif on and a clean Apron and he with his black Hat in his lap. He said he brought with him the news of a propos’d Match. He said the Match was with a Member of our Society and did I consent to hear it. I told him I did.

  It is with Edward Swift whose wife Mary died these two years past. Her grave marker is but a rod from Mother’s. He has two boys about my age, and Sarah who I was at School with. He is accounted a hard-working man, with several of the Trades. I believe the two trivets we have are iron wrought by him.

  Oh, I have not the Skill to record the flagging of my Spirit at this proposal. I had not thought such a thing would work upon me so. I tried in my Thoughts to be fair and generous, and mindful of my own and Dorcas’s fate, and yet I wished to push it all from me, as one might push away a meal for which one has no Appetite.