It’s a little late in the year for a Halloween tale, but a few past posts have alluded to a spooky association with the monastic ruins at Abbeyshrule. The book ‘True Irish Ghost Stories’, published by St. John D. Seymour and Harry L. Neligan in 1914 (and cryptically dedicated to “three lively poltergeists”) includes the following passage.
Churchyards are generally considered to be the hunting-ground of all sorts and conditions of ghosts. People who would on all other occasions, when the necessity arises, prove themselves to be possessed of at any rate a normal amount of courage, turn pale and shiver at the thought of having to pass through a churchyard at dead of night, It may be some encouragement to such to state that out of a fairly large collection of accounts of haunted places, only one relates to a churchyard. The story is told by Mr. G. H. Millar of Edgeworthstown: “During the winter of 1875,” he writes, “I attended a soirée about five miles from here. I was riding, and on my way home about 11.30 P.M. I had to pass by the old ruins and burial-ground of Abbeyshrule. The road led round by two sides of the churchyard. It was a bright moonlight night, and as my girth broke I was walking the horse quite slowly. As I passed the ruin, I saw what I took to be a policeman in a long overcoat; he was walking from the centre of the churchyard towards the corner, and, as far as I could see, would be at the corner by the time I would reach it, and we would meet. Quite suddenly, however, he disappeared, and I could see no trace of him. Soon after I overtook a man who had left the meeting long before me. I expressed wonder that he had not been farther on, and he explained that he went a ’round-about’ way to avoid passing the old abbey, as he did not want to see ‘The Monk.’ On questioning him, he told me that a monk was often seen in the churchyard.”
It may not be the scariest of tales, but it isn’t difficult to imagine that a 19th century traveller passing along the road that skirts past the new graveyard, with the abbey ruins behind, near midnight and with only the moon for light, would have ideal conditions to see a ghost. As detailed elsewhere, there are local stories about the monks of Abbeyshrule having been massacred; the abbey was apparently burned down by an Anglo-Norman army in 1476, quickly restored, but then fell into disuse before the Reformation and Plantation. There is little else in print – the Dúchas folklore collection from the 1930s mentions a witch who haunts the ruins every night. It also mentions ‘the Frog of Abbeyshrule’; a local begger who would jump on his hands and feet like a frog all the way to Ballynacargy in the 1840s – not relevant to this post but curious nonetheless!
It was around the time of G.H. Millar’s encounter (1875) that the local RIC barracks (police station) was moved from Abbeyshrule village to an old schoolhouse just across the road from the ruined abbey, so it would be natural to assume that the figure was a policeman going about his duties. Millar was most likely George Henry Miller of Tully, a Justice of the Peace, a Liberal Unionist Parliamentary candidate for South Longford, a senior member of the Freemasons, and not someone you would expect to associate himself with superstition without good reason. The abbey ruins, particularly the 17th century tower house, have had extensive renovations carried out in recent years and are well worth a visit. It’s up to you whether you visit at midnight.
I’m grateful to Jimmy Lennon for alerting me to this tale.