The winter nights are drawing in and the heat of the roaring turf fire calls us to sit close and stay warm. We feel safe, we feel comforted but spare a moment’s thought for the lost souls roaming the island of Ireland looking to find their eternal rest. The turf fire spits and crackles, the story begins . .
A rich Dublin merchant renowned for his fiery temper and disdain for others, made his fortunes on the sufferings of others. He acted a as a morally corrupt money lender, preying on the misfortunes of people and swiftly capitalising when they were unable to repay his loans. In the harsh winter of 1826, he found himself the owner of a large plot of fertile land rolling down to the banks of the river Liffey. In one foul and unthinking swoop, he evicted all the tenant farmers and began making plans to build a house for himself. However, a Fairy Fort stood prominently in the place where he wanted his house to sit. Going against every belief about not disturbing the sacred site of the Fairy Fort, he ordered his workers to demolish the Fort. The locals understood the power of the fairy fort and what evil it could manifest, they pleaded with the merchant to change his mind but to no avail. In a furious rage he sent for a team of men to travel from London to do the work, their ship never made shore, all losing their lives in a freak storm.
It took seven years to build the house and many lost their lives in its construction, eventually the merchant moved in with his new bride to Abbeyfield House. A year later a son was born to the couple, but even with his happy arrival nothing could break the sense of foreboding in the house. Exactly one month later, the lady of the house was found dead at the bottom of the staircase, having lost her footing on the steps. In his grief the merchant hung himself from the balcony with a makeshift noose. They were buried side by side.
Their son was raised by his childless aunt and uncle who moved into Abbeyfield House, within one year both the Aunt and her nephew drowned in the gentle waters of the Liffey, drawn into the centre of the river by a pull so strong that no-one can explain it to this day. The Uncle fled in fear sensing the veil of evil that shrouded the place.
Over the years, this haunted house has claimed the lives of almost a dozen inhabitants from unexplained accidents to sudden illness, since 1956 it has remained vacant, with local tales of death and misfortune sealing its empty fate. Fishermen along the river tell of a drag in the river bed close to the house that can steer a boat off its path, walkers have seen a headless figure stand at the entrance to the ruin, ramblers have heard the sad and lonely sobbing of a young child.
Remember as you sit warmly by your fire, think on about the mighty power that those little people have, respect traditions, leave well alone or misfortune may pay you a visit.
Visit our Northside Ghost Walk Dublin Tour for ideas on a truly brilliant night out.