Offaly's Haunted Staircase In The Woods

By Justin Kelly

The existence of ghosts divides opinion; firm believers are forthright in their views, but science rails against them. Like most divisive issues, there is a middle ground, and in that middle ground are the intrigued sceptics. They are the people who are interested, but need to discover the truth for themselves, whatever that truth may be. It is human instinct to investigate that which we are unsure of, and in order to come down strongly on one side in this debate, we must investigate.

Popular culture has created a paranormal obsession, and polarised the interest of viewers and readers all over the world. Films like Paranormal Activity have deviated from the horror genre convention in producing a work of fiction that sells itself as a real life story. They are set in what appears to be the homes of real people, and packaged with grainy amateur camera work to fulfil this effect. This has brought the paranormal interest into the lives and homes of the people consuming the movies, and this has created a phenomenon.

Paranormal research and investigation groups have popped up all over Ireland; the Paranormal Research Association of Ireland, Paranormal Study and Investigation Ireland, Dublin Paranormal Research, and so the list continues through the counties. Every weekend, these teams bring interested members of the public to locations reputed to be haunted; from graveyards to castles, manor houses to hotels. Rather than accepting individual tales of the paranormal, these groups attempt to find reasonable scientific and natural explanations for the goings on. Nine times out of ten, they can find these explanations, but that ten per cent of the time, there is that one thing that serves their very existence; doubt. With doubt comes more room for investigation, and my own doubt led me to one of Europe’s most haunted castles; Charleville, Tullamore. I was accompanied by investigators from Dublin Paranormal Research and the Paranormal Research Association of Ireland, as well as a group of other curious members of the public.

Charleville Castle was built between 1800 and 1809 by Francis Johnston, the same architect responsible for the design of Dublin’s GPO. The source of its paranormal reputation stems primarily from one ill-fated little girl, and the tragic circumstances of her death. I met with Bridget Vance, an American woman who has lived in Charleville Castle for twenty-four years, and she told me the story of this little girl. Her name was Harriet, and she was the daughter of the 3^rd Earl of Charleville. In April 1861, Harriet was expecting her friends and relations for a mid-summer party, and was playing in the castle’s nursery. The nursery is located on the third floor of an old creaking staircase that turns on itself through the centre of the castle. Bridget told the story: “Harriet was looking over the railing for her friends, but the railing is low, and she leaned over too far and fell to her death.” Bridget only discovered Harriet’s story after her own son went missing in the castle as a toddler. After searching for over an hour, Bridget found her son on the main staircase, and she recalls him saying, “don’t worry Mommy; the little girl held my hand.” Bridget wholeheartedly believes the little girl her son referenced was indeed Lady Harriet. This story sparked an interest, and led me to a night of investigation in February 2013.

At 9pm, the lights went out, and the only light inside the building was that of the moon creeping through the long, narrow, single-paned windows. Two investigators from Dublin Paranormal Research brought a group of participants to the library, which had a history as a meeting place for the Free Masons. It is said that the spirits here dislike women in their room, and often make their disapproval known to intruders. To test this contention, the women in the group sat around the table in the centre of the room, and the investigation began. Martina, one of the investigators, began the interaction: “If there are any spirits here present, can you make yourselves known?” After almost forty minutes in this room, the other DPR investigator, Barry, came over very uneasy, having been the essence of calm from the outset. He sat bolt upright from his slumped state and claimed, “there’s something moving across that wall.” “Look at that,” he directed as he expelled a deep breath into the beam of his torch. A thick icy mist was emanating from his breath, and he abruptly exclaimed, “there's something in here with us.” The women at the table began to sigh while sitting up uneasily in their seats, but Martina told everyone to relax, and that "it had happened before.” Although I can’t discredit what Barry saw or felt, I hadn’t seen or felt it, so I was still as sceptical as when I arrived. It was in Harriet’s bedroom that this scepticism would be sorely tested.

In Harriet's bedroom, situated at the top of the creaking staircase, my coolness of thought was not so assured. We sat silently in between ‘callouts’ from Barry and Martina. "Are you here Harriet?” Nothing. "We have brought a few friends along with us tonight.” Nothing. “Do you want to come out and play with us?” Within seconds of this question, the door, only visible because of the moonlight illuminating three tall back windows, slowly opened six or eight inches, and before we could question what had happened, it swung back on itself, slamming against the unhinged door jam. Martina then asked Harriet to come into the room if she was on the top of the stairs. Before she had even stopped speaking the door swung open in one deliberate and swift movement, stopping abruptly when it was about halfway open. At this point, Barry added, "come on in,” and with this, the door rattled the room as it slammed shut again. This caused me to unconsciously murmur, "wow".  I had said this, because not only did I watch the door do what it had just done, but I had clearly heard what sounded like very light footsteps scampering away from the room as the door slammed. This was the first time I had seen or heard anything that I genuinely considered to be unexplainable and truly phenomenal. Barry addressed the spirits again; "If you would like us to leave, could you open the door and let us out?" The door opened a couple of feet, and as Barry offered a "thank you,” the door slammed again. At this point, the strong sceptical opinions I had come to the castle with were vanishing into the other worldly atmosphere that enveloped the castle.

We visited other areas of the castle, but Harriet’s bedroom was the one place I felt uneasy, and while I had walked up the staircase in comfort, coming down after leaving that environment, I was slightly more wary of my surroundings, scanning each step, wide-eyed and wary of every flicker from the many torches.

Charleville Castle did not markedly change my mind about the phenomenon of the paranormal, but it certainly creaked it open a fraction more than it had been. I don’t care for blind belief in anything, and I certainly don’t advocate it in the case of this subject. What I do advocate is the experience, and the exploration of the world of paranormal research, even if only to satisfy a vague curiosity. Despite my reservations, which were deep-seated, Charleville Castle does have an essence which does purport to something not quite of this world. From the grandeur of its location deep in the midst of a seven hundred year old wood, to its impeccable upkeep befitting the century in which it was built, the castle does take you well and truly out of your comfort zone.

I couldn't help but feel like there was something very strange about Charleville Castle.