Of Libraries and Ghosts and the Emerald Isle...a post for St Patrick's Day

So, tis the month of celebrating the wearin' of the green, and I have discovered a story, said

"Marsh's Library" photo by Tim Tregnza via Wikimedia Commons

to be true, of a haunted library in Dublin, Ireland. Wow. I've just mentioned three of my greatest imagination-tweakers in that one sentence: libraries, hauntings, and Ireland. So hang on to your green hats, pull up a chair, and have your cuppa (or pint) ready as I tell you the tale of

The Haunted Marsh Library

On St Patrick's Close in Dublin, Ireland, sits a beautiful, early eighteenth century library tucked in beside St Patrick's Cathedral. It is the oldest free public library in Ireland and looks, today, much as it has for the past three hundred years. It maintains its original atmosphere, complete with "cages"--small rooms in which one was locked inside to prevent theft of its more valuable books.

The library was founded by Archbishop Narcissus Marsh in 1707 on ground belonging to the House of St Sepulchre, then the Palace of the Archbishops of Dublin. It is noted in an official transcript as : 
"An Act passed 1707 for settling and preserving a Publick Library for ever, in the House for that purpose built by His Grace Narcissus now Lord Archbishop of Armagh, on part of the Ground belonging to the Archbishop of Dublin's Pallace, near to the City of Dublin.'"

"Archbishop Narcissus Marsh" by Unknown

Since the archbishop's passing in 1713, there have been consistent reports of a ghostly figure browsing the shelves of the Inner Gallery after hours, pulling out books, thumbing through them, and sometimes angrily flinging them down onto a nearby desk. By morning, however, all the books are neatly replaced in their original positions. So, who is this? The archbishop, perhaps, unhappy with the work of the current library staff? The story was first placed in print in 1914 in a book by St. John D. Seymour and Harry L. Neligan entitled True Irish Ghost Stories. I have placed its recording of the ghostly tale here for your "3Es" of the day (Education, Entertainment, and Enlightenment.)

--Marsh's library, that quaint, old-world repository of ponderous tomes, is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of its founder, Primate Narcissus Marsh. He is said to frequent the inner gallery, which contains what was formerly his own private library: he moves in and out among the cases, taking down books from the shelves, and occasionally throwing them down on the reader's desk as if in anger. However, he always leaves things in perfect order. The late Mr. —, who for some years lived in the librarian's rooms underneath, was a firm believer in this ghost, and said he frequently heard noises which could only be accounted for by the presence of a nocturnal visitor; the present tenant is more sceptical. The story goes that Marsh's niece eloped from

"Marsh's Library" by Tim Tregenza via Wikimedia Commons

the Palace, and was married in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She is reported to have written a note consenting to the elopement, and to have then placed it in one of her uncle's books to which her lover had access, and where he found it. As a punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is said to be condemned to hunt for the note until he find it—hence the ghost.--

If I am ever fortunate enough to visit that magical land of some of my ancestors, I will most certainly pay a visit to Marsh's Library. Perhaps I can find a way to procure an after-hours tour and accidentally become stranded overnight in the Inner Gallery. Ghost or no ghost, I can't imagine a better place in which to be locked inside. Better than a candy store!

Thanks for stopping by...y'all come back now.  And Happy St. Paddy's Day!

"Irish Soda Bread" baked and photographed by the author KL Wood

Kate

300 Years of Haunted Edenton...taking the Ghost Walk in my hometown

Edenton's 1767 Courthouse (photo by K.L. Wood)

When you live in a town which is over 300 years old with many homes continuously occupied since the 1700s you have to expect there to be a few hauntings…or at least stories of haunted houses and spectral visitations. This year, my family and I went on the town's annual October evening walking tour: the Edenton Ghost Walk.

Young women from John A. Holmes High School carried candlelit lanterns to help illumine our path along the uneven, often brick, walkways in the dark of night. But what a perfectly beautiful night it was! Cool and crisp with bright stars above us, quiet enough to hear the water lapping gently against the town docks.  Our tour guide led us by several homes and buildings and shared their stories...historical and suitably creepy. Come close, dear Reader, and I will tell you some tales…but keep in mind these are just a few of what we heard and these are limited to the area in which we walked. Edenton is full of many more homes filled to the brim with lore and legend.

Standing outside the 1767 Edenton Courthouse, our guide told us of an eighteenth century man who committed several crimes and was tried and convicted in the historic building. Once sentenced to a lengthy imprisonment, he bolted to the front door and tried to escape. The exit was locked from the outside and he beat futilely on the heavy wooden door hoping someone would unlock it and let him out. The man ultimately died in prison. People walking by the old courthouse, late at night, sometimes hear the sound of banging as they pass the door.

Beverly Hall is a beautiful and stately mansion, built as part bank, part residence in 1810. It

Beverly Hall, photographed in 1936 by Frances Johnston

is home to a particularly grisly tale. It seems there was a clerk working in the bank who was discovered to have been swindling the townspeople out of their hard earned money. One night, the clerk saw a crowd of disgruntled people coming toward the Hall carrying torches and all manner of weaponry. He decided to shoot himself before the angry mob reached him. Disappointed at not being able to bring the man to justice, they took his corpse to the old Courthouse, sat it up for “trial,” accused and sentenced him to “death,” and then carried his body back to Beverly Hall where they strung him up in a tall tree in the backyard. There they left him for crows to pick his corpse apart. Today there appears to be an unusual amount of crows that hang out on Beverly Halls lovely grounds…looking for more, perhaps?

Built in 1850, elegant Pembroke Hall is popular today as a gorgeous wedding venue. Every weekend from spring through fall, festive white tents pop up on its generous grounds for happy couples to exchange their vows and celebrate their union. One hopes the brides do not encounter the spirit of a man who has been seen there, wearing a Confederate uniform and bearing horrific facial wounds from a Civil War battle in which he lost his life.

Pembroke Hall, Edenton (photo from visitedenton.com) 

Speaking of brides, another lovely home is the source of a sad tale of a happy eighteenth century bride who decided it would be fun to play hide and seek with members of the wedding party on the day of the nuptials. During the game, the bride went missing and although the guests searched thoroughly and called her name repeatedly, she was never found. With a number of pirates wandering the streets, it was feared and assumed she must have been kidnapped by some dastardly piratical crew. Generations later, after the house had changed ownership a few times, a woman went into the attic and witnessed a filmy form sweep past her and hid for a far corner. The woman peered into the far recesses of the attic and found a beautiful wooden chest she thought might make a lovely coffee table. When the chest was brought down and opened, the body of long dead woman in a wedding dress lay within. Apparently the unfortunate bride hid in the chest during the game and it locked on her, sealing her in and sealing her fate.

Another story involves the restoration of the Roanoke River Lighthouse, in active

Roanoke River Lighthouse, Edenton (photo by K. L .Wood) 

commission from 1886 to 1941. This is the original lighthouse that marked the entrance of the Roanoke River into Albemarle Sound. In recent years it was moved from its working site to Edenton’s harbor where it has undergone extensive renovation and is now open for tours. Part of the restoration involved removing some sad, old carpeting. One of the workmen was bending over and pulling up a section of the carpet when he felt a hard and distinct kick on his backside. Looking around he expected to see he had bumped into something but there was nothing anywhere near him that could have caused the sensation. Evidently, one of the old keepers was indignant at the man’s removal of his beloved carpet!

As I have stated before, living in a 300 year old town is a wonderment and an inspiration. I hope you can come and visit our town someday…perhaps you will experience your own spirited encounter!

Have a good couple weeks, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...Y'all come back now! (And beware of things that go bump in the night!)

Kate

A Haunting in Hanover, a true story for a Halloweenish digression

The Apotheosis of Penelope Boothby (1796) 

by Michele Benedetti after Henry Fuseli

As a change of pace from sharing my discoveries of 18th century life and in keeping with the season, I will share another true ghostly encounter experienced by my down-to-earth husband.

Several years ago when Bill lived in Hanover, Massachusetts and worked as a graphic designer, he had a part time office assistant named Mildred who worked off and on for him over a three year period of time. Mildred lived in town, about a quarter mile from Bill's residence, and often expressed her love of her home and the neighborhood. She experienced personal challenges and found great comfort in her home and the kindness of her neighbors.

Mildred was brokenhearted when her husband informed her that the company for which he worked was transferring him to Nashua, New Hampshire, about 70 miles away.  She decided she had no choice but to join him and, with great regret, packed up and moved away.  Their house sold quickly to new owners who pretty much kept to themselves. Occasionally, Mildred returned to Hanover to visit and would stop by Bill's office to see how things were going.

"Welcome to Hanover" By John Phelan (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)],
 via Wikimedia Commons

About four years passed when, around 10:00 on a lovely autumn Sunday morning with golden light shining down on the brightly colored leaves, Bill drove from his house to a newsstand for his weekly ritual of purchasing the Sunday newspaper. His route took him by Mildred's former home and, to his surprise, he saw her out in the front yard raking leaves.  She looked up and they exchanged a wave and a smile as he passed by. He couldn't imagine what she was doing there, raking leaves in the current owner's yard, and when he came back by a few minutes later he planned to stop and chat with her.

When Bill reached the house, she was no longer in the yard. He looked in the driveway and only saw the current owner's car. Puzzled, he pulled up in front of the house and walked to the front door. Looking around for any sign of Mildred, he rang the doorbell and a man he had only seen a few times, but who Bill recognized as the homeowner, opened the door.

Bill answered his quizzical expression with his own question, "Hi, I'm a friend of Mildred's and when I drove by a few minutes ago, I noticed her raking leaves out in your front yard. Is she still here? I'd love to see her."

The man wrinkled his forehead, "Mildred?"

"Yes, you know, the woman you bought this house from."

The man shook his head and told Bill Mildred wasn't there. He hadn't seen her since he bought the place.

"I could have sworn it was her I just saw out there," he said, pointing to the front yard. "Is there another woman here who was doing yard work this morning?" 

"No," the man said beginning to look suspiciously at Bill. "No one's here today except me."

With that, he closed the door leaving Bill standing alone in complete bewilderment.

"Hanover Center Cemetary" By John Phelan (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0  

 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)],

 via Wikimedia Commons

Once he returned home he went about his usual Sunday morning routine but couldn't get the odd incident out of his head. Several hours later he received a phone call from a neighbor who asked if he had heard the news about Mildred.

"No," he said, and before he could tell her about his experience earlier in the day, she announced, "Well, she's dead! Poor dear was killed in a car accident around 10:00 this morning."

"Here?" Bill asked, "In Hanover?"

"Oh no," she replied, "right near her house in Nashua."

So, dear Reader, what do you make of that? Was Mildred making a quick, ghostly stopover to visit her beloved home one more time before she went...wherever she was going? To quote Shakespeare's Hamlet, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus and the Ghost," 1796

by Robert Thew after Henry Fuseli

I'd love to hear your own ghost stories. Leave them as a comment, please, so we can all marvel at them.

Have a good week, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...Y'all come back now!

Kate

http://seasnowhauntedlighthouse.com/

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15890071-sea-snow?from_search=true

Ghosts of New Orleans, a personal experience

Both my first novel, Sea Snow- the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse, and the novel on which I am currently working for my series, Time Shadow, involve ghosts of one kind or another. Actually the first one is about a ghost and the one I am writing now is about a spirit. You may think of these as one in the same but I think of a ghost as a spirit that is bound to a person or a place beyond their control and have no choice but to haunt said person or place until they have come to some kind of resolution of unfinished business. A spirit, on the other hand, is that part of ourselves that lives on beyond our physical lives and exists in a different plane of existence but who may, if they so choose, visit or interact with the physical realm. (Just my thoughts as they are at the moment. I am always open to evolving ideas.) 

I have had only one interaction with a spirit but my dear, down-to-earth husband has had several, one of which occurred when we were traveling around the country on a 33,000 mile journey pulling a 13 ft camper trailer from Virginia to Alaska and all parts in between. With his kind permission I will tell you what happened to us on November 1 (All Saints' Day,) 2011 as we camped just outside New Orleans in St Bernard State Park Campground.

 

We had just pulled into this lovely park and were setting up camp around 5:30 pm. All the campground staff members were gone by then so we picked our spot and placed our payment into the self-pay box provided for latecomers. The park only had a few of its many campsites filled so we were able to find a good spot, far enough away from other campers for privacy but not too far from the bathhouse. (Our usual criteria.) We had a nice, level campsite, one side facing the camp road and one facing a stand of young trees. Our two dogs and I were inside the camper, which we affectionately called "Lucy," as I undertook the usual reorganization of supplies necessary when we set up camp and performing that most important of tasks, making two cups of hot tea, while Bill did his usual outdoor chores of securing the trailer. One of the things he had to do each time there was a water supply available, was to hook up the water hose from the water source to the camper. This is a job he had performed hundreds of times before with ease. This time, however, he could not get the hose end to thread properly and he struggled to securely connect it to the fresh water connector on the camper.

 As he crouched by the trailer, his frustration mounting by the second, he felt someone approaching and looked back over his shoulder. There, standing about eight to ten feet away between two narrow tree trunks at the edge of the campsite, was a slender black man about 70 years of age, curly grey hair, gold-framed glasses enlarging his kindly eyes, dressed neatly in a long-sleeved blue cotton shirt buttoned up to the neck, khaki trousers and sneakers. (As a photographer, my husband is extremely observant with a great memory for detail.) The man was carrying a bright yellow water hose that trailed behind him and was smiling reassuringly at Bill, looking as though he were about to speak and offer assistance. At that moment, Bill felt the hose slip securely into its connection and turned his eyes back to the trailer. He immediately turned back to face the man and speak to him but there was no one there. He stood up and walked to the spot where the man had been standing and looked around through the trees, no trace of his existence. He walked quickly around the trailer and looked up and down the road, no one there at all. When he looked through the trailer's screen door to ask me if I'd just seen a man outside, his face was as white as a proverbial sheet. Later, he was talking to an older man who spent a lot of time camping at the park and broached the subject of apparitions in the area. The man replied, "Oh yeah, you know this whole parish was flooded after Katrina. There're hundreds of ghosts swimming around here." Bill asked a park ranger if anyone else had ever reported seeing anything like he had witnessed. The ranger said he wasn't at liberty to say but, in his words, "It wouldn't surprise me one bit."

As time goes on, I will relate other true ghostly encounters and I would love for you to share any experiences you have had.

Have a good week, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...Y'all come back now!

Kate

http://seasnowhauntedlighthouse.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15890071-sea-snow?from_search=true

Photographs on today's blog are copyrighted by my husband, William Ahearn.