Historical Accounts

The following diary belonged to Mercy Nightingale, an ancestor of art curator Barbara Nightingale, who was executed during the Salem witch trials in 1692. Mercy’s entries preserve one of the earliest known descriptions of a mysterious figure that appears elsewhere in this archive.

Entry #1
Entry 1

My dearest friend Abigail Ruth came into my house after the setting of the sun in great and grievous distress. Her garments were torn and her face stained with earth

With much weeping she confessed that her father had accused her of Witchcraft before the Magistrates. Being greatly afraid of what should become of her, she followed him into the woods to beg for mercy, though she confessed there had been anger within her heart. She cast him unto the ground, beseeching him to withdraw his accusation, but he fought fiercely and laid hold upon her throat. In her fear she took up a stone and struck him. When she arose, he stirred no more.

Yet it was not her father's death that most troubled her. She did swear that, as she fled the woods, she beheld a dark figure standing amongst the trees, exceeding tall in stature, with hands like barren branches in winter and a head most strangely round. It neither spoke nor moved, but stood afar and watched.

Entry #2
Entry 2

Abigail remained with me until the breaking of day, though sleep visited neither of us. Many times did she cast her eyes toward the window, as though expecting some dreadful thing to stand beyond it. When I inquired whether it were man or spirit she had seen, she answered that she knew not, for it seemed less a living creature than a shadow cast by some greater thing unseen.

Entry #3
Entry 3

Word spread swiftly through Salem, and by midday Abigail had been taken into custody for the death of her father. The Constables came for me that very evening. They questioned me concerning Abigail, though it seemed their judgments had been made long before they crossed my threshold. They inquired of spirits, signs and wicked dealings, yet gave no ear unto my answers.

Word hath now come that I am to suffer death.

If kindness shown unto a friend in her hour of misery be counted as sin, then there are many in Salem who ought to fear the Judgment of God. I pray still for Abigail, and for those who condemn us, for fear hath made strangers of neighbours.

To whom finds this, I am not the devil's hand, nor have I danced with spirits as they claim. May God see the truth, though man hath turned his face.