More Haunted Ireland

irisheyes · More Haunted Ireland

Malahide Castle.

Malahide. County Dublin.

Puck The Phantom Sentry.

Malahide is a stunningly picturesque, fortress that stands amidst a profusion of massive oaks, mighty chestnuts and towering sycamores nine miles to the north of Dublin. Richard Talbot, who had been awarded the Lordship of Malahide by Henry 11, built the first castle on the site in about 1185. Thereafter, despite regular sieges and constant warring aimed at displacing them, his descendents clung to possession for 791 years (a ten year eviction during the Cromwellian era excepting), until in 1975 the Hon. Rose Talbot was forced to sell her ancestral home to pay the exorbitant Death Duties occasioned by the sudden death of her brother Milo, the last Lord Talbot de Malahide, in 1973. Purchased by the local authority, it was opened to the public and visitors can now experience the majestic ambience of a true time capsule, wherein ancient corridors and winding stairways lead into atmospheric old rooms, resplendent with period furnishings, family portraits and intriguing artefacts.

Having ascended the winding stone stairway from the reception, you step into the Oak Room, which sits at the heart of the medieval castle where above the fireplace is a 16th century Flemish carving depicting the Coronation of the Virgin. One of the Castle’s most abiding legends centres upon this exquisite work. In August 1649 Oliver Cromwell invaded Ireland with a force of some 12,000 soldiers. The then owner of Malahide Castle, John Talbot, was unceremoniously evicted and Cromwell gave the fortress to Miles Corbet. Tradition asserts that the moment he took possession the carving mysteriously disappeared and was not seen for ten years until, following the Restoration of Charles 11 in 1660, and the subsequent execution of Corbet, the Castle was restored to the Talbot family and the carving re-appeared upon the wall!

The Great Hall of the Castle, is one of the most important medieval rooms in Ireland and remains virtually unaltered since its construction in 1475. On the 30th June 1690, fourteen members of the family are took breakfast here before setting off to fight in the next day’s Battle of the Boyne at which every one of them was killed. It is also the room to which Malahides’ best attested ghost returns.

No one knows for certain who was but there is a tradition that he lived in the 15th century and, due to his slight stature, was unsuitable as a fighting man, so was employed instead as a watchman. Unfortunately he was partial the odd tipple and one night, having imbibed a little too liberally, fell asleep at his post and an enemy stormed the Castle. Shamed by his neglect of duty, the remorseful sentry hanged himself from the Minstrel’s Gallery. But his spirit has remained here ever since and appears whenever changes happen of which he disapproves. The last sighting of him was in 1975 when the castles’ fixtures and fittings were being auctioned. An auctioneer from London was busily compiling an inventory, when he looked up from his work and saw the unmistakable figure of Puck, standing by the tiny doorway, shaking his head in censure.

(From Haunted Castles In Ireland)

The Hill of Tara

Tara. County Meath.

The hill of Tara is nothing special to look at. No crumbling ruin crowns its summit, and the surrounding countryside is anything but dramatic. Yet it is a magical place, steeped in mystery and legend and to journey the ragged paths which snake their way across its gentle slopes, is to walk in the footsteps of Kings and heroes.

Although legend accepts the Fir Bolg as the first invaders to make Tara a royal seat, it was the arrival of the mystical Tuatha De Dannan that made it a sacred and godly place. They brought with them four divine gifts one of which, the Lia Fail, or Stone of Destiny, is said to be the weather beaten and decidedly phallic monument that today stands atop the grassy mound known as the Kings Seat. It was once Ireland’s coronation stone, over which monarchs were crowned and which was said to emit a fearsome roar of recognition when touched by the rightful king of Tara.

It has stood here since the times when magnificent wooden palaces dominated the brow of the hill. Its memories are Ireland’s memories of ancient glories and long ago kingships. It remembers the feis, those great national assemblies that took place every three years at which laws were passed, tribal differences settled and the defence of the realm decided. It has witnessed the huge crowds that flocked here to enjoy great banquets whilst being entertained by athletes, combatants, poets’, musicians, minstrels and jesters. It warmed to the glow of firelight as storytellers gathered their audiences around them and, using nothing but the magic of language, spirited them away into the realm of the gods, where they held them spell bound with breathless tales of ancient conflicts and heroic conquests.

Tales of the mighty warrior, Lugh of the Long Hand, who came here to lead the mystical Tuatha De Danann into battle against their enemies the evil Fomorians. A warrior such as he had never been seen in Ireland before, and so bright was the radiance of his countenance that, when he stood upon Tara’s heights people thought the sun had risen in the west. He wore the Milky Way as a silver chain around his neck; had a rainbow for his sling and possessed a sword called “the Answerer” with which he could cleave through both walls and armour. Before riding into battle at the head of a great host of warriors, he equipped himself with every magical weapon known to the world. His forces inflicted a crushing defeat upon the Fomorians and banished them from Ireland forever, after which the De Danann returned to Tara and ruled for nine generations, until the arrival from Spain of the Milesians, ancestors of the modern Irish. These were the sagas and unwritten histories with which the storytellers would regale their audiences in the halls of Tara. And of how, with the coming of the Milesians, the history of modern Ireland began. How at Kenmare Bay in County Kerry the two sides fought a battle during which the De Danann Queen, Eriu, was fatally wounded. But before she died, she made the Milesian leader, Amorgen, promise that the island would bear her name forever and thus it became Eriu, Eire or Eireann.

As the epic tales approached their climax, the audiences would have listened with baited breath to the story of the final confrontation between the two forces on the plain of Teltown, to the north of Tara. Of how the invaders finally overwhelmed the Tuatha De Danann who, rather than become expatriates, used their magical powers to retreat into a mystical realm, leaving Ireland itself to their conquerors. Thereafter, they dwelt beyond the sidhes, those grassy mounds and barrows that speckle the landscape of Ireland to this day. They became, according to the storytellers, the Aes Sidhe, or “People of the Hills” - the fairies whose existence has become rooted in the Irish psyche and whose mysterious otherworld has provided a final refuge in times of trouble. Every god was a Fer-Sidhe, or “man of the hill” and every goddess a Bean-Sidhe, or “woman of the hill”- the banshee of popular Irish legend.

Ages went by, generations of Kings were crowned over the Stone of Destiny, living and dying at Tara. Then, at some stage around AD430, Loegaire became the 116th King and it was during his reign that another God arrived on Tara’s slopes as Christianity, in the robust form of St Patrick, challenged the pagan powers by lighting a Pascal fire on the nearby Hill of Slane. The Druid Priests warned Loegaire that, if he did not extinguish the fire immediately then it would burn in Ireland forever. But Loegaire ignored their warnings and St Patrick came to Tara where, plucking a shamrock from the hillside, he used its three leaves and single stem to teach Loegaire about the nature of the Trinity. Thus it was that Christianity came to Ireland and the emblem of the nation was born. But it was this new faith that, ultimately, sounded Tara’s death knell. According to legend King Diarmaid, who ascended the throne in AD558, arrested and executed the murderer of a tax collector who had taken sanctuary with St Ruadhan. Incensed by the Diarmaid’s actions, the Saint came to Tara and, ringing his sacred bell, pronounced the fateful incantation “Desolate be Tara for ever and ever”. Soon after the palace lay abandoned its buildings left to rot with only the stone of destiny standing silently by, a lone witness to the ending of its glories.

All is quiet here now. The heroes have departed. The ashes of the fires by whose glowing logs the storytellers once wove their magic have long since been raked into the hillside. The fairy folk have retreated ever further into their secret domain, driven from our consciousness by an invasion of modern technology and universal conformity that sees eccentricity where our ancestors saw enchantment. But it is still possible in a quiet moment to stand upon Tara’s heights and, with the breeze upon your face, imbue yourself with the spirit of the place. “If you go there” wrote the poet Francis Ledwidge from the mud-spattered trenches of Flanders, “look all around you and remember me to every hill and wood and ruin, for my heart is there.. Say I will come back again surely, and maybe you will hear pipes in the grass or a fairy horn.. – I have heard them often from Tara”

(From Haunted Places In Ireland)

Laugh Devereaugh In Ireland
Lough Devereaugh

Nr. Ballinalack. County Westmeath.

The Fate of the Children of Lir.

This is a tranquil place of ancient enchantment where rippling waters reflect tree lined hillsides that rise sleepily from the marshy banks Reeds bend wearily against the faint breezes as though recoiling in shameful horror at the memory of a long ago act of unspeakable cruelty committed upon these very shores where one of Irelands most poignant legends was born.

It came to pass that the Tuatha De Nanaan met to elect a king, and duly settled upon Bodb Dearg, much to the anger of another contender, Lir, who returned to his palace angrily refusing to accept the new monarch. The men of the Denanaans wished to wage war on Lir, but Bodb Dearg was anxious that his reign would be a peaceful one, and so dissuaded them. As Lir’s resentment festered, fate dealt him a tragic blow, for his beloved wife died from a mysterious illness, leaving him inconsolable at the loss. When Bodb heard of this, he sought to make peace with his adversary, and offered him the hand of one of his three treasured stepdaughters in marriage. Lir, filled with remorse at the Kings generosity abandoned his ambitions, accepted Bodb’s friendship, and chose Aobh, the eldest daughter, as his wife.

Theirs was a happy marriage, and Lirs’ joy knew no bounds when his wife gave birth to twins, a daughter, Fionnuala, and a son whom named Aodh. A few years later his wife became pregnant again and the once embittered warrior sent word to his great friend, Bodb informing him of the glad tidings. But the shadow of grief fell once more upon the household when Aobh died giving birth to twin boys, whom the distraught widower named Fiachra and Conn.

When word of his foster daughters death reached Bodb Dearg, he was filled with grief at the loss and, consumed with pity for his son- in - law declared that “our friendship with one another will not be broken for I will give him for a wife her sister Aoife”.

Lir was again moved by the Kings kindness and the two were duly married. His children provided great solace to Lir, whose heart was filled with “joy and delight at the beauty of their appearance”. But the love he showed for them caused resentment to burn within his wife, who hatched a plan to be rid of them forever. She feigned a sickness, that lasted for almost a year and, just as Lir had resigned himself to losing a third wife, she miraculously recovered. Her husband was overjoyed and was much relieved when she said she wished to take the four children to visit Bodb. Yoking her chariot, she sent for the children and told them to prepare for. But Fionnuala had been warned in a dream of her stepmothers’ evil intentions and refused to go with her. Lir, however, calmed his daughter’s fears, persuading her that no harm would befall her and, reassured, the children boarded the chariot and set out on their ill-fated journey.

As they approached the tranquil shores of Lough Devereaugh, Aoife turned to her servants and ordered them to kill the children, promising them great riches if they would carry out her wishes. But the horrified attendants refused, warning her that “it is a bad deed you have thought of, and harm will come to you out of it”. Aoife attempted to kill the children with her own sword but could not bring herself to carry out such a cold-blooded act. Instead she bade them refresh themselves in the Lough. The unsuspecting children rushed gleefully into its cooling waters, but no sooner had their first playful splashes broken the surface, than Aoife raised a druidic wand and cast a terrible spell upon them. A sudden flash exploded from the glassy waters, as a fearsome roll of thunder shook the earth to its core. A swirling, thick mist enveloped the children whose terrified screams echoed around the surrounding hillsides. Then all was still, and as the fog cleared, the Children of Lir found that they had been transformed into four beautiful swans.

As the realisation of their plight dawned upon them, Fionnuala turned to her stepmother and, in a quavering voice, demanded “Evil witch, what mischief did we commit that your love should turn to treachery”? Then, as anger overcame her fear she warned “do not think that your deed will go unpunished for the fate awaiting you will be far worse than ours”. But Aoife was unmoved by the such a threat “ Away with you” she sneered “ for you will never be able to seek revenge on me and nor will your friends, for it is with flocks of birds that your cries will be heard forever”.

It was then that the children begged her to “put some bounds now to the time when this enchantment will end”. “It is worse for you to of asked it of me” replied Aoife, for no friends and no power that you have will bring you out of these shapes until you have been three hundred years on Lough Devereaugh and, thereafter, another three hundred years on the stormy Sea of Moyle and yet a further three hundred in the chilly climes of Irros Domann, on the Western Sea. Only when you hear the sound of a Christian bell will your release be imminent”.

But then the evil stepmother relented and granted one concession to the charges she had betrayed. “ You may keep your human voices” she told the Children “ and I will make them the sweetest voices in the whole of Ireland, sweeter even than those of the Fairy people, and anyone who hears them will be lulled into a gentle sleep”. Then turning to leave she cried “but that is the extend of my mercy, now go for I have finished with you”! So saying, she reined her horses and sped off to the palace of her foster-father, where she attempted to cover her treachery by informing him that the reason she had arrived alone, was that Lir mistrusted Bodb and was convinced that his children would be in danger if he allowed them to accompany her.

But the King was suspicious and sent messengers to Lir enquiring after the children’s well being. The arrival of Bodbs’ envoys greatly alarmed Lir and he set out in his chariot to retrace his children’s journey. Passing the shores of Lough Deveraugh, he noticed four swans swimming towards him and marvelled at the sweetness of their song. But then Finiannola spoke out, telling him who they were and what had happened. Realising that his children were now beyond help, Lir let out a howl of anguish and collapsed weeping to the ground. That night, he and his attendants camped on the shores of the Lough and his children sang to him in tones so sweet, that they eased his sorrow and lulled him into a tranquil sleep.

The next morning he hurried to Bodbs palace and told the King what Aoife had done. The furious monarch summoned his evil stepdaughter and ordered his druids to turn her into the foulest and most hideous creature they could they could think of. The priests struck her with their wands, turning her into a demon of the air and dooming her to drift helplessly amidst the clouds till the end of time.

For the next three hundred years the children remained on the placid waters of Lough Deveraugh, and the people of Ireland helped ease the burden of their sentence by coming to visit them. The second and third parts of the spell passed less comfortably, but finally nine hundred years had gone by and the swans flew ashore to return to their fathers’ palace. But they found it to be a desolate ruin - its ramparts broken, its walls covered by moss and the green lawns on which they had once played, swallowed by nettle and bramble. Heartbroken they flew back to the Western Sea and settled on the island of Inis Glora.

Meanwhile, St Patrick brought Christianity to Ireland and, in his wake, came holy men one of whom, St Kennock, settled on the island where the swan-children dwelt. One morning they were woken by the sound of his oratory bell and, following its chime they landed before the holy hermit who recognised them immediately and greeted them warmly. As he did so their feathers fell away and they became human once more. But they were no longer children. Their bodies were stooped and wizened, their hair was white, their skin was wrinkled and it was obvious that they were dying. They begged St Kennock to christen them and, no sooner had he done so, than they breathed their last. And, as the saint blessed them, he fancied he saw four radiant children, with silvery wings and tranquil expressions rise from their haggard bodies, encircle him for a moment and then swoop skywards to seek their place in heaven.

(From Haunted Places In Ireland) Ballygally Castle Hotel.

Ballygally Larne. County Antrim

Part 17th-century castle, part modern hotel, Ballygally Castle is surrounded by brooding hills and gazes out over the grey waters of the Irish Sea. A winding staircase twists its way up the inner wall of the castle to the sparsely furnished 'ghost room'. It has a melancholic air, complemented by the portrait of a sad-looking lady that gazes down from one of the room's whitewashed walls. Her name was Lady Isabella Shaw, and hers is the revenant that roams this imposing fortress. Tradition holds that her husband longed for a son, but when his wife gave birth to a daughter his anger knew no bounds. He imprisoned them both in this, the highest room of the castle, and left them to starve. Heartbroken by the cruelty of her spouse, the distraught lady took her baby in her arms, opened the window and leapt to her death.

Lady Isabella's ghost is now said to walk a time-worn path around the sturdy bastion and has a particular fondness for knocking loudly on guests' doors. Yet when they answer there is never anyone there. Annoying as this spectral prank might be, it pales in comparison to the more disturbing phenomena that occurs in the vicinity of the ghost room. Several people ascending the old staircase have heard the sounds of a baby sobbing. As they hurry to comfort the anguished infant, its bawling grows louder and becomes more distraught. But when they reach the apparent source of the noise, and push open the door of the ghost room, the cries suddenly cease and they find that the room is empty.

(From Haunted Casles Of Ireland)