With Force and Arms: A Tale of Love and Salem Witchcraft

by Howard Roger Garis

There was some hunting to be had, and I often went out with a fowling piece, and came back with a brace of partridge or squirrels, that made dainty dishes, when Mistress Willis had broiled them over a blazing wood fire, or fried them in sweet butter to a delicate brown crisp.

Sometimes as I walked, or hunted or fished, there would come to me a memory of Lucille de Guilfort, as I had seen her that day in the court room. I had caught but few glimpses of her since, and then she had passed me by with a bow, and a little smile, albeit a sad one. Though to me she seemed the most lovely maid I had ever seen, I was to her, apparently, no more than any one else of the Colony. She bowed to Willis, as she did to me.

At times I would sit idly on a woodland bank, my gun across my knees, the squirrels playing, unharmed, and not afraid, in the trees above me. I pictured to myself Lucille. Her eyes were brown; her hair a deep blue-black, as a fine steel rifle barrel might be shaded. Her face was like--but what it was like, ’tis beyond me to describe. There was love in it, and her lips seemed made to kiss. Her voice was low and clear, like a bell, and made one long, when he had once heard her speak to hear her again.

But it was little use to dwell on such thoughts, I concluded, for, though I would have liked to see her every day, there was but one in seven when I might do so of a certainty. That was on Sunday, when she, with all the other colonists went up to the little meeting house, on the hill. There good Dominie Parris held forth, at no uncertain length on the trials and troubles of this world, and on the necessity of saving the soul from the Devil and the wrath to come. To my shame be it, perhaps, but I am afraid I paid but little heed to the minister, for, from my bench I could catch a glimpse of Lucille, and, sometimes, see her face when she turned about. Full many a Sunday I sat thus, greatly cramped in my body, for my legs ill fitted the small benches, though I felt repaid if she but turned her head once.

The dominie would read page after page of the scriptures, and then expound them at length, while, beneath the pulpit sat the clerk, turning the hour glass, when the sands had run from the top to the bottom. And, most often, it was two full turnings ere the sermon was finished. Another time it might be three, while, on one weary day (I was preciously sleepy too) I recall that the clerk turned the glass four times before the lastly was reached. Yet I sat through it all without a murmur, for such things a man will do sometimes, when he is not quite himself, because of a maid.

Once Cotton Mather, a great preacher from Boston, came to Salem, and his text was witchcraft. He warned his hearers to be on their guard against witches, who, he said, were abroad in the land. He referred to the scarlet snow, and to the two executions that had taken place in our Salem Colony. He also related such facts about witches, as had come to his knowledge, he said. He spoke so strongly of the powers of the witches, that the whole congregation almost was in great terror. Some timid folks double barred their doors that night, lest the witches should get in. This must have been a precaution of little use, for, if I had heard aright the witches did not stop at solid stone walls, to say nothing of oak doors. Oh, how foolish it all was, though it did not seem so then to many.

So the days went on. I had learned much of the Colony affairs, and made the acquaintance of the principal men. I had seen enough to know that a goodly company could be raised in Salem, and I dispatched a messenger to Sir William with that information.

But as to the throwing of the knife and what followed. I was idly strolling through the forest one day when I came to a place where two paths diverged. The left led on down past the common and to the grist mill, while the other went deeper into the woods. With scarce a thought I turned to the right, and walked on into the forest.

The last vestige of snow had gone save from the hill tops, and the air was warm with sunlight. The birds were beginning to fly northward, and, as I walked, a flock of crows passed over head, cawing to each other. There was but little of winter left, and that was fast disappearing.

On and on I traveled, paying small heed to my steps until I found myself in a sort of glen, the sides of which rose steeply on either side, while the trees, locking their branches above, made it twilight at noonday. I came to a halt and looked about me.