Irish Ghost Tales (5 page)

In a way what happened next was, to all intents and purposes, the rat's own fault. It just wouldn't listen. Lord Howth decided to travel to France with his brother. They loved going on hunting trips and touring the French countryside. The rat was, as far as they were concerned, back in Ireland. They were sitting by the fire in their hotel when who should appear, all soaking wet and with a pronounced limp, but the rat. Lord Howth's brother, fed up of the rat at this stage, jumped up, grabbed the poker and before anyone could do anything to stop him he hit the rat right between the eyes, killing it stone dead.

Lord Howth jumped up and, seeing that the rat was dead, cried out, ‘Holy mother of God, you've murdered me!'

He died that very night.

They say the rat still haunts the castle.

L
oftus Hall, County Wexford, is an old mansion, with passages that lead nowhere, large dreary rooms, panelled walls and a tapestry chamber with a story to tell. It was built on a limestone promontory stretching out into the Atlantic Ocean by one de Raymond, a follower of Strongbow, who settled there. After the Rebellion of 1641, it was forfeited and became the property of the Loftus family. It's described as ‘a wild and lonely place'.

The story that follows is said to have occurred when Charles Tottenham and his family came to live in the mansion in the middle of the eighteenth century. Charles Tottenham's first wife was the Honourable Anne Loftus (the second daughter of the 1st Viscount Loftus).

The story begins on a stormy night in 1775 when a young man turned up at the front door unexpectedly and was welcomed into the mansion. Anne and the young man became very close, and one night they were in the parlour playing cards. Around this time it was not considered well-mannered for a girl to play cards, but Anne refused to be dictated to and insisted on playing. When a card was dropped on the floor she went to pick it up and noticed that the young man had a hoof in place of a foot.

It's said that Anne screamed and the man went up through the roof in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a large hole in the ceiling. Anne was in shock and was put in her favourite room in the mansion, which was known as the Tapestry Chamber. She refused food and drink and eventually died without ever leaving the room. It's said that the hole in the ceiling could never be properly repaired and it's alleged that even to this day there is a part of the ceiling which is slightly different from the rest. This, of course, is a myth, since the present house was built more than a century after the events described. However, it was believed that the stranger with the cloven hoof returned to the house and caused persistent poltergeist activity.

A number of Protestant clergymen apparently tried and failed to put a stop to this. The family, who were themselves Protestants, eventually called on Fr Thomas Broaders (a Catholic priest, who was parish priest of the surrounding area from 1724 to 1773. He was also a tenant on the Loftus Hall estate) to exorcise the house, which he managed to do in spite of fierce opposition from at least one of the hostile spirits. The success of Broaders led to many concessions being made to local Catholics, whose religion was still technically illegal.

Fr Broaders later became parish priest of the united parishes of the Hook and Ramsgrange for almost fifty years. Eventually he became Canon Broaders. He died in January 1773 and on his tomb in Horetown cemetery is the following epitaph:

‘Here lies the body of Thomas Broaders, Who did good and prayed for all. And banished the Devil from Loftus Hall.'

The apparent success of Father Broaders' exorcism did not end the ghostly visitations at Loftus Hall. The ghost of a young woman, presumed to be Anne Tottenham, was reported to have made frequent appearances in the old hall, especially in the Tapestry Chamber, until the building was finally demolished in 1871.

Although the present Loftus Hall is an entirely new building, interest in the ghost story has remained strong and many aspects of the story seem to have attached themselves to the newer house.

The father of Revd George Reade stayed with a large party at the hall some time around 1790. His room was the Tapestry Chamber. He is said to have reported that, ‘Something heavy leapt upon his bed, growling like a dog. The curtains were torn back and the clothes stripped from the bed.'

He suspected that some of his companions were playing tricks, so he shouted to warn them and fired his pistol up the chimney to frighten them. He then searched the room and, of course, found nothing. The door was locked, as he had left it when he had gone to bed.

When the 2nd Marques of Ely was at the hall, his valet, Shannon, was put in the Tapestry Chamber and woke the whole household with his screams during the night. The curtains of the bed, he said, had been violently torn back and he saw ‘a tall lady dressed in stiff brocaded silk'. He fled in terror.

Some time later George Reade and his father were staying at the hall. George knew nothing of his father's earlier experience and chose the Tapestry Chamber as his bedroom. One bright moonlit night he was sitting up late reading an article in
Blackwood's Magazine
when he saw the door open. A tall lady in a stiff dress passed noiselessly through the room to a closet in the corner, whereupon she disappeared. For some reason the idea of a ghost never entered his head and he went to sleep.

The next night the experience was repeated. He rushed towards the lady, threw his right arm round her and exclaimed, ‘Ha! I have you now.'

His arm passed through her and came ‘with a thud against the bedpost'.

The figure went on and her silk brocaded gown ‘lapped against the curtain'. Next morning he told his father, who said nothing, and the whole incident left little impression on him.

He slept in the room without disturbance ‘many a night after'. Some years later, George Reade was again at the hall and heard the valet, Shannon, tell the housekeeper that ‘he would sooner leave his lordship's service than sleep in the Tapestry Chamber'. Reade asked him why and Shannon then told him the story of Anne, which he had never heard before.

In 1858 the 4th Marquess, who succeeded in 1857 at the age of 8, came to the hall for the bathing season with his mother (the Lady of the Bedchamber) and his tutor, Revd Charles Dale. The tutor was put in the Tapestry Chamber and came down to breakfast one morning in an obviously nervous state, but refused to say anything.

In the autumn Lord Henry Loftus, uncle of the Marques, wrote to George Reade to tell him about Charles Dale and added that a Mr Derringey had slept in the room and had had ‘a splendidly fitted dressing case' ransacked during the night. He asked him what his own experience had been. Reade wrote to Dale, then in a parish in Kent. In his long letter, Dale said that he had slept in the Tapestry Chamber for three weeks without disturbance – and without knowing anything about Anne Tottenham. Then one moonlit night he had had the same experience as Reade's father: something heavy jumping on the bed, growling, and tearing off the bedclothes.

He leapt out of bed, lit a candle, but could find nothing. He had, however, made inquiries and had talked with an old woman named Haggard, who lived to the age of 106. She had told him the whole story and remembered Father Broders and the exorcism very well.

Finally, in 1868, Reade once more visited the hall, which had by then been considerably altered. The Tapestry Chamber was now a billiards room. He asked the old housekeeper how Miss Anne Tottenham had taken these changes and she replied, ‘Oh! Master George, don't talk about her. Last night she made a horrid noise, knocking the billiard balls about!'

So there you have it. Would you be brave enough to spend the night in Loftus Hall? Strangely enough, if you know the history of the Irish Hellfire Club you will recognise the same story of a stranger seeking shelter from the storm and playing cards. He too was found to have cloven feet and disappeared in a puff of sulphur smoke through a hole in the ceiling.

R
oss Castle, County Meath, overlooks Lough Sheelin. It was built in the early sixteenth century by Richard Nugent, the 12th Baron Delvin. He had a sinister reputation and was said to be ill-tempered and cruel, possibly giving rise to his nickname, the Black Baron.

One story that demonstrates his evil nature concerns the nearby village of Ross. It all started when a local woman placed a freshly baked loaf of bread on the windowsill of her cottage to cool. A passing dog saw this as a free meal, grabbed the loaf and ran off with it. The woman saw what had happened and yelled out of the open window, ‘Stop thief!' The dog dropped the loaf and headed for safety.

A beggar was passing through the village as this was going on. It was a warm day and he felt a little tired, so he decided to rest under the shade of a tree. The baron and his entourage were out hunting along the shores of the lake. When he heard the story of the bread thief, he became angry as he felt any crime reflected on his position as a lord of the realm. Unfortunately for the beggar, the baron rode into the village to question the woman about the theft and spotted the beggar sleeping under the tree. The baron demanded to know what he had done with the loaf and the beggar, knowing he had done nothing wrong, denied any knowledge of the crime. The baron flew into a rage and accused him of being a thief and a liar. The beggar begged him to believe him but the baron refused to listen. As the local lord he had the right to pass judgement as he saw fit and he immediately ordered the locals to provide a strong rope. He hanged the poor beggar from the branch of the tree he had been resting under. Shortly afterwards the locals found the missing loaf. They placed a cross at the place where the beggar was hanged and hundreds of years later the black deeds of that day are still remembered.

The Black Baron went on to have a daughter named Sabina. Although she was a sickly child, she grew to be a beautiful young woman. It is said that she loved walking along the shores of Lough Sheelin and that these walks brought her into contact with many of the local villagers. Although she was the daughter of the cruel and evil Black Baron, the locals knew her to be kind and she was well liked by all who knew her.

One fine day, when she was walking towards the bridge that crosses the River Inny, she met a handsome young man and they began to exchange pleasantries. His name was Orwin and he was the son of an O'Reilly chieftain. There was an immediate attraction and before parting company they agreed to meet again. Their meetings had to be kept secret for she was the daughter of an English lord and he was the son of an Irish chieftain and in those days any relationship between them would not have been looked upon favourably. It wasn't long before love blossomed.

As time passed they realised that they could never be together. They wanted to marry but knew their families would oppose such a union as the two sides were constantly at war with each other. Orwin and Sabina longed to be together and the only way this could become a reality was for them to run away together. They knew that if they stayed there could be no future for them. One night they met in secrecy. They had arranged for there to be a boat down by the lakeside and they planned to row to freedom. They climbed aboard and began their ill-fated journey. As they crossed the lough a storm came upon them suddenly. These storms were well known in the area but this one caught them by surprise. A strong wind caused a swell that engulfed their boat and capsized it. Sabina was rescued but lay in a coma for three days. Orwin was not so lucky. His body was eventually found washed up on the shore. Upon being told of her lover's fate, Sabina fell into a deep depression. She locked herself into the castle tower and refused to eat or drink. Eventually she fell into a deep sleep from which she never woke.