The past and the haunt called out to this traveler. What is there to learn from Loftus Hall? I can give you only some of the answers. The rest, we must explore together.
I had never before visited, at least not knowingly, any site that is considered to be haunted. I’ve had experiences I can’t explain, but these have been in dreams that were inexplicably linked to reality. Interesting then that I found myself, on a misty Monday morning, staring at Loftus Hall, reputed (with some dispute in certain circles) to be the most haunted house in Ireland, a country that is a hub of paranormal activity. One could say I was jumping into the deep end of an unknown pool.
Sadness is something I am intimately familiar with, and sadness is what permeated the air in and around Loftus Hall on my first visit. I wasn’t interested in spooks and thrills; the Halloween decor and props in the adjoining gift shop didn’t give me an impression of belonging there. I suppose for children and tourists it’s all a bit of fun, but that’s not what I wanted to explore.
Stepping through the long walk into the actual Hall, I was transported into the past, the 18th century (and earlier than that, when you move into certain sections of the home). It was cold, and sad. The faded, textured wallpaper peeled from the walls as bits of old dreams and ambitions might fade from a weary mind. There weren’t any unexplainable sounds, apparitions, or strange movements as I journeyed in further. Popular culture tells you that stepping into a haunted house is akin to being in an amusement park. However, a place where real people died, where dreams were forged and broken, this is not for amusement. I took each step in the house with the measurement of avoiding a grave.
In the morning room, I even felt glimpses of light and happiness. Illumination was allowed into the windows of this masonic gathering space, and I could see the gardens and pathways around the Hall. Not all of this place was cast into the darkness.
I, to my knowledge, am not a physic or any kind of medium, not by any measurement I can quantify. I am an empath in that I can sense the emotions of others around me, and these feelings, or auras if you will, can have an impact on mine. I did sense feelings hanging in the air, dampening the wood and stone of the Hall. Is this enough to say that the residue of those who came before us lingers on, that the trauma of their demise still saturates the living world?
In Loftus: The Hall of Dreams, a much better authority than I speaks on the tragic history cloaking the Hall in mourning and lamentation. The words of Helena B. Scott–a member of the London College of Psychic studies–delves deep into historic chasm surrounding Loftus Hall, from its origins as Redmond Hall, to the arrival of the Dark Stranger and what really inspired the ghost story for which the Hall has become infamous. The words are interwoven with stark, vivid imagery of the Hall and its surrounding land and marks on the Hook Peninsula, Co. Wexford.
Although the story and pictures in Loftus: The Hall of Dreams make sense (at least they ought to) on a profound level to anyone who has visited Loftus Hall, one does not need to have traveled to the Hall or even Ireland to understand or appreciate it (though Ireland is a place that deserves to be experienced and respected). This is a gothic story told in the style of the classics, of history, tragedy, love, and injustice that demands to be explored. Let justice be done.
“In silence, the house speaks through these pages and ultimately, tells its true story.”
“…the stately home reveals itself to an empathic and intuitive writer, voicing its silent desires so that justice may finally be done.”
– Helena B. Scott
The book Loftus: The Hall of Dreams is available to the public as of 06/23/2018. Further details and excerpts can be found at:
Also please visit the author’s and photographer’s pages, as well as the official site for Loftus Hall to explore further:
Photographs in the post were captured by and are the copyright of Steve Meyler.