One of the many evil helpers of St. Nicholas, coming during the Christmas season to punish children, we find the story about Père Fouettard, or Father Whipper from Lorraine.
While Christmas is often associated with joy, kindness, and festive cheer, certain legends remind us that this season also harbors a darker side. One such legend is that of Père Fouettard, or Father Whipper, a fearsome figure who emerges from the folklore of Lorraine, France, to cast a sinister shadow over the holiday celebrations.
He is one of the many helpers of St. Nicholas to punish the bad children together with Krampus, Frau Perchta and Hans Trapp among others in areas that culturally used to be a part of the Holy Roman Empire. This particular helper is mostly known in the north and east in Franche, South in Belgium and in the French speaking part of Switzerland.
The Origins of Père Fouettard
The story of Père Fouettard dates back to 1252. The legend was particularly popular in the regions of Lorraine and Alsace, where he became an integral part of the Christmas traditions.
Père Fouettard is often depicted as a grim, bearded man dressed in dark, tattered robes, wielding a whip, switch, or rod. His face is sometimes shown as sinister and sooty, reflecting his role as a punisher of naughty children. The character is believed to have been inspired by various European tales of dark, punitive figures who accompanied benevolent gift-givers during the festive season.
The Dark Tale of Père Fouettard
One of the most chilling versions of Père Fouettard’s origin story involves a gruesome crime. According to the legend, Père Fouettard was once an innkeeper or butcher who, along with his wife, lured three wealthy boys into their home. The couple murdered the children, planning to rob them and in the darkest versions, cut them up to eat them.
However, their heinous act was discovered by Saint Nicholas, who revived the boys and condemned Père Fouettard to an eternity of penance, or just simply forces him.
In some versions of the story, the children were salted and left in barrels for around seven years until St. Nicholas came knocking on their door.
As punishment, Père Fouettard was forced to serve as Saint Nicholas’s dark companion, responsible for doling out punishments to naughty children. While Saint Nicholas would reward the good children with gifts and sweets, Père Fouettard would whip the misbehaving ones, leaving them with painful reminders of their misdeeds.
Père Fouettard in Christmas Traditions
In many parts of France and Belgium, Père Fouettard is still a prominent figure in Christmas celebrations. On December 6th, Saint Nicholas Day, he accompanies Saint Nicholas on his rounds, adding a touch of fear to the festive joy. The contrast between the kind, generous Saint Nicholas and the fearsome Père Fouettard serves as a moral lesson, reinforcing the importance of good behavior throughout the year.
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Children are often warned that if they do not behave, Père Fouettard will pay them a visit, armed with his whip or rod. This fearsome aspect of Christmas traditions acts as a cautionary tale, ensuring that children remain on their best behavior during the holiday season.
The Enduring Legacy of Père Fouettard
Despite his terrifying reputation, Père Fouettard remains an integral part of the Christmas folklore in many French-speaking regions. His story has been passed down through generations, evolving over time but retaining its core message of reward and punishment. The local twist on this story though, might come from when Charles V attacked Metz and the tanner’s guild came up with the story, making an effigy of the emperor with a whip to mock him. After the siege, it is said that the stories merged.
Modern interpretations of Père Fouettard often tone down his more gruesome aspects, portraying him as a stern but necessary figure who helps maintain the balance between good and bad. However, his presence in the festive season still serves as a reminder that Christmas, with all its joy and warmth, also has a darker side that must be acknowledged.
During the Christmas season, tales were told of Frau Perchta, who would visit people’s home and check if they had been good or bad. She would reward the good ones, but punish the bad ones by slicing their bellies open.
Christmas, a season synonymous with joy, love, and warmth, also harbors chilling legends that evoke a sense of fear and caution. Among these eerie tales is that of Frau Perchta, often known as the Alpine Goddess of Winter, The Belly Slitter and the Witch of Christmas, a figure from Alpine folklore whose story casts a dark shadow over the festive season. Known as the Christmas witch, Frau Perchta is a sinister counterpart to the more benign Christmas legends, embodying a blend of pagan and Christian traditions that make her one of the most terrifying characters of the holiday season.
Haunted Christmas Legend: Perechta and goat in the vicinity of Milevsko. Photographed by Štěpán Dvořák around 1910
The Origins of Frau Perchta
Frau Perchta’s legend is deeply rooted in the folklore of Austria, Germany, Slovenia and other Alpine regions. Her name, which varies in spelling and pronunciation, is believed to derive from the Old High German word “perht,” meaning “bright” or “shiny.” However, despite this seemingly benign name, Frau Perchta is far from a benevolent figure. She has been given many names, many being like Perchta, Bertha and sometimes she was known as Posterli,Quatemberca and Fronfastenweiber
Originally, Frau Perchta was a goddess of nature and fertility, associated with the cycles of life and the changing seasons probably stemming from Holda or Frija-Frigg. There are also connections to the women in white trope and belief from German pagan lore.
As Christianity spread through Europe, many pagan traditions and deities were transformed or demonized, and Frau Perchta’s image darkened significantly. Even Martin Luther mentioned her in a negative way. She became a figure of fear and moral retribution, known for her dual nature: rewarding the good and punishing the wicked.
Frigga Spinning the Clouds: Could the ugly witch of Christmas actually come from the legends about Frigga and or other fertility goddesses in pagan times? Many of the more monstrous and witch like characters in Christian folklore, often morphed goddesses like this to more evil and horrible characters.
The Dual Nature of Frau Perchta
Frau Perchta’s dual nature is central to her legend. On one hand, she is a kind and generous figure, rewarding those who have been good and industrious throughout the year, appearing beautiful and white as snow. On the twelfth night of Christmas, known as Epiphany or Perchtennacht, she would visit homes and leave a silver coin in the shoes of those who had completed their tasks and behaved well.
On the other hand, Frau Perchta is a fearsome and malevolent presence. She is often depicted as a haggard old woman with a beaked nose, dressed in rags and carrying a long knife hidden beneath her skirts. This darker aspect of her nature comes to the fore when she encounters those who have been lazy, disobedient, or dishonest.
The Spooky Tale of Frau Perchta
Perchta: Peruchty in Hrdly, Kingdom of Bohem 1910
The most chilling aspect of Frau Perchta’s legend is her method of punishment. According to the tales, Frau Perchta would enter homes on the twelfth night of Christmas to check if children and servants had worked hard and behaved well throughout the year. If she found them wanting, she would do more than just leave a lump of coal or a switch.
In the darkest versions of the legend, Frau Perchta would slit open the bellies of the lazy and deceitful, remove their internal organs, and stuff the cavity with straw, pebbles, or other harsh materials. This gruesome punishment was meant to serve as a dire warning to children and adults alike, ensuring they adhered to societal norms and performed their duties diligently.
That is the main core legend about her today, but there are many stories. Like about when she crashed a wedding she wasn’t invited to and cursed them all and transformed them into wolves.
Traveling the Wild Hunt of Twelve Days of Christmas
She is said to be more of a witch now, flying in the sky, attending the Wild Hunt together with the rest of the demonic forces of Christmas on Rauhnächte, the darkest night of the season. She is followed by her crowd of minions known as Perchten, said to be unbaptised children who died.
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Today in some parts of Austria and Bavaria, there are processions called Perchtenlauft of Schönperchten and Schiachperchten, beautiful and ugly Perchtas during the twelve nights between Christmas and Epiphany. People are wearing masks, making noise and setting off fireworks.
Schiechperchten: Frau Perchta with her minions in her own parade known as Schiechperchten in St. Johann from 2017. // Source: Holger Uwe Schmitt/Wikimedia
You are supposed to leave her a little tribute as well and that varies from region to region. They gave her dumplings and herring in Central Germany’s Thuringia, a porridge of oats and herring called Perchtenmilch in parts of Austria, or eggs and more dumplings, left on the roof, in Tyrol.
So by Perctentag Eve on January the fifth, you better have your house in order and spinning done, if not, the christmas witch will come and get you.
The children of Alsace are often reminded to watch out for Hans Trapp, a cursed Baron now dressing as a scarecrow, waiting for passing by children. Today now also said to be one of Santa’s helpers, punishing the bad children.
When the festive season rolls around, most of us are filled with joy, anticipation, and warmth as we prepare for Christmas. However, lurking in the shadows of holiday cheer, some tales remind us of the darker side of this time of year. Among these is the chilling legend of Hans Trapp, a figure from Alsatian folklore whose story is steeped in terror and moral warning.
“Hans Trapp is coming for Christmas” parents in the Lorraine and Alsace regions on the German and French border can say. But he is not there to give presents, but beatings and is said to be a cannibal dressed up as a scarecrow, hungry for children.
The Christ child and Hans Trapp: The Christ Child is one of the good helpers to Santa Claus. Parts of Europea white-skinned, fresh-faced version of Jesus does the job of delivering presents. He often appears dressed in white—sometimes with wings. The Christ child can be anywhere from age two to twenty-two, and pretty much always blonde. Sometimes he’s not even the actual Jesus, but a young angel , heralding the arrival of Jesus. Here he is distributed gifts while Hans Trapp stuffed the naughties into a sack to eat later.
The Origins of Hans Trapp
The legend of Hans Trapp originates from the region of Alsace, which straddles the border between France and Germany. This area has a rich tapestry of folklore, where the lines between the real and the supernatural often blur. Hans Trapp is one such figure, deeply rooted in the region’s history and culture.
All the way north in the region you will find Wissembourg, now a border area, but back then, part of the Holy Roman Empire.
Hans Trapp, or Hans von Trotha, which was his actual name, was once a wealthy and powerful man, known for his insatiable greed and cruelty living at Berwartstein Castle, born in the mid 1400s. His riches were acquired through ruthless means, and he was feared and despised by those who lived in his dominion. According to legend, his malevolence grew so great that he dabbled in black magic and made a pact with the Devil to increase his wealth and power.
There are many stories, but what we do know is that he came into a fight with the Abbot of Wissembourg about land, and Hans Trapp decided to cut off their water supply in retaliation. He built a dam on top of the Wieslauter to stop its flow down to Wissembourg, flooding the abbot’s land.
When they demanded he stop though, he destroyed the dam, causing a flooding, gushing down the mountain, flooding the town.
Hans Trapp’s actions did not go unnoticed. But the Holy Roman Emperor did nothing to stop him. His heinous deeds and dark practices eventually drew the attention of the Church. The pope summoned him, but he refused. Instead he called the pope all sorts of immoral things. He was excommunicated by the church and banished from society, a punishment he hated. He was sent to French court instead during the Italian wars, dying in 1503 at his castle and his lineage died out around 40 years after his death.
TheBurg Berwartstein: Berwartstein is a castle in Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany, and where Hans von Trotha lived, the one that would mostly be remembered as Hans Trapp, scarecrow and child eater.
The Legacy of Hans Trapp
People started in the following years after his death to attribute horrible things to him, even changing his name to Tapp, where trappen is to make a noise while walking in order to chase away spirits. Soon he was turned into a devilish figure, a demon and a spook, always after revenge on those who wronged him.
In the legend he is mostly talked about as a hermit, excommunicated to the woods, not to court. They tell about him living in the forest and building a shelter on the mountain of Geisberg in Bavaria in Germany, turning less and less human, living by luring children into his lair to eat them. One story tells that God himself turned him into a scarecrow because he devoured a young shepherd.
Another version claimed it was Trapp who dressed up as a scarecrow to lure the children, stuffing his clothes with straw and hiding among the fields. As time went by after his exile, he turned mad, bitter and hungry for both revenge and flesh. With a grim visage and a sinister air, he would wait for his next victim.
One day, Hans Trapp set his sights on a young boy from a nearby village, only ten years old. He captured the child and took him back to his lair in the woods. As he prepared to cook and eat the boy, cooking him over the open fire, a divine intervention occurred. A bolt of lightning struck Hans Trapp down, killing him instantly and saving the child from a gruesome fate.
Le Hans Trapp: Man dressed up as the scarecrow man with the sack Christmas of 1953 in Wintzenheim (Alsace, France)
D’r Hans Trapp Schoi, do kummt d’r Hans Trapp. Ar het a scheni Zepfelkapp’ Un a Bart wiss wie a Schimmel. Ar kummt vum schena Starnehimmel Un bringt da Kinder a Ruada, Wu net dien singe un bata. Schoi, Hans Trapp, mir sin so klein Un brav un folje d’heim. Müesch net kumme mit dim Stacka, Denn mir kenne singe un oi bata.
English Translation
The Hans Trapp Look, there’s Hans Trapp. He’s got a nice pointed hood And a beard as white as a white horse. He comes from the starry sky He brings a rod to the children Who neither sing nor pray. Look, Hans Trapp, we are so small We are wise and we follow the house. You don’t need to come with your rod, For we know how to sing and pray.
The Haunting of Christmas
Though Hans Trapp was destroyed, his evil spirit was not at rest. According to legend, he continues to roam the region, especially during the Christmas season as he became the helper of St. Nicholas to punish children. Some claim that St. Nicholas happened to walk past as Trapp was struck by lightning. He came with him and has since tried to redeem himself for his sins. Another version for why he is involved in the Christmas season is, well… Misbehaving children need a story.
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Much like Krampus, Hans Trapp is said to visit misbehaving children, but his presence is far more sinister. It is said he is riding his black horse on the countryside of northern Alsace looking for vengeance. On St. Nicholas’ Eve he takes part in the parade of the holy man in the region. He embodies the fearsome consequences of moral corruption and the dangers that lurk in the darkness.
Parents in Alsace would tell their children the story of Hans Trapp to instill good behavior and to keep them from wandering too far from home. The tale serves as a chilling reminder that while Christmas is a time of joy and celebration, it also has its shadows.
Leading up to Christmas, the Lefferts-Laidlaw House at 136 Clinton Avenue in Brooklyn got uninvited visitors, knocking on the doors. The haunting lead to a spectacle of onlookers trying to solve the strange case that even the New York Police couldn’t solve.
In the bustling borough of Brooklyn, New York, among the charming brownstones of Clinton Avenue, one address stands out for its eerie reputation: 136 Clinton Avenue, a grand Greek Revival House built around the end of the 1830s, still standing close to the Brooklyn Navy Yard on Clinton Hill. Today it is known as the Lefferts-Laidlaw House and when it was put on the market in 2020, it was listed for 3.4 million dollars after being on and off the market for years.
The residents that have lived there in modern times as well as the agent trying to sell the house all say that it isn’t haunted. But could the haunted ghost story be the reason buyers are deterred from it? The chilling events that took place here in the winter of 1878 have left an indelible mark on local lore, giving rise to one of Brooklyn’s most infamous Christmas hauntings.
The whole story was told in a series of news articles in the New York Times on the 20th and 21st of December.
The Uninvited Guest at 136 Clinton Avenue
It all began a few weeks before Christmas in 1878. Edward F. Smith, a resident of 136 Clinton Avenue, was enjoying a quiet evening at home when the doorbell rang. He answered the door, expecting a visitor, but found no one there. It happened several times more that night, the doors of the house kicked, banged and rattled. It was so loud, but not a single thing was seen and carried on until 10 in the evening. Mr. Smith had to tell himself that: It was only the wind, and went to sleep.
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That was only the beginning of a pre-Christmas nightmare. This seemingly innocent event soon turned into a nightly occurrence, each time with the same perplexing result: the doorbell would ring, but there would be no one outside, and no signs that anyone had been there at all.
Smith and his family were initially baffled and soon grew frustrated. Determined to catch the prankster, Smith sprinkled ash and flour along the path to the door, expecting to find footprints. But the substances remained undisturbed, and the mysterious noises continued unabated.
Escalation of Fear
As the days passed, the unsettling events escalated. The doorbell ringing turned into aggressive banging on the doors. The Smith family, now deeply concerned, decided to seek help. They contacted the police, who began to investigate the strange occurrences as they spent the night, but nothing came of it.
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Despite the police presence, the disturbances did not cease. The ringing and banging persisted, defying all attempts to identify their source. The Police Captain McLaughlin was even there, opening the door as it banged only to find empty air. This was on Monday the 16th of December when things took a darker turn.
The situation took an even more sinister turn one night when a brick suddenly flew through a window from outside. Officers standing nearby saw no one who could have thrown the brick, adding to the growing sense of fear and confusion.
The Paranormal Conclusion
Weeks of investigation yielded no answers. The police were unable to determine the cause of the disturbances, and the relentless noises and inexplicable events continued to plague the Smith family. With no rational explanation in sight, Smith and the witnesses to these bizarre happenings began to suspect a supernatural cause.
The haunting of 136 Clinton Avenue became a topic of local gossip, with many speculating that the house was cursed or that it harbored restless spirits. Some suggested that the disturbances were the work of a mischievous poltergeist, while others believed it was the ghost of a former resident seeking vengeance or closure.
Paranormal seekers and spiritualists begged to come inside to have a look, but Mr. Smith refused them all as he would have none of that nonsense. This didn’t stop them though and it was reported of semi-seances on the sidewalk with a crowd the police had to send away at times. One police officer was even bitten on the fingers by what the paper described as: ‘one powerful German who refused to move.’
Who was the Ghost Haunting the Lefferts-Laidlaw House?
After three weeks of mayhem, the haunting suddenly stopped according to the residence, and no answer was given to what really happened there. The local gossip claimed that it had to be the work of the ghost of a lawyer said to have committed suicide inside of the house years before.
According to Mr. Smith, he was so rattled and annoyed he was said to have said it had to be Satan himself in his home. He claimed it was he who had driven the ghost away with long prayers and had previously said to the newspaper that: ‘we consider ourselves perfectly able to take care of any ghost that comes along.’
There are also stories about the original owner and his chef, where according to this story, the owner murdered the chef when he found out about the affair with his wife.
According to the police, they remained inconclusive. It wasn’t like they could accept the theory about the devil or the ghost of a lawyer, but even they had to stand behind what they saw the things that happened, and that there was no way a living human could have done it without having been seen.
The Legacy of the Haunting
The haunting of 136 Clinton Avenue remains one of Brooklyn’s most enduring ghost stories. Over the years, the house has changed hands multiple times, and each new owner has been regaled with tales of the Christmas haunting. Some residents have reported experiencing strange noises and unsettling events, while others have lived there without incident.
Today, the story of the Christmas haunting serves as a chilling reminder of the unexplained phenomena that sometimes invade our lives. Whether a skeptic or a believer, the tale of 136 Clinton Avenue continues to captivate those who hear it, adding a touch of mystery to the holiday season in Brooklyn.
“The Water Ghost of Harrowby Hall” by John Kendrick Bangs is a macabre short story that combines humor with supernatural elements. Published in 1891, the tale centers around the cursed Harrowby Hall, where each Christmas Eve, a spectral figure drenched in water appears to haunt the inhabitants. The ghost, a former occupant who perished tragically, brings an unnerving and persistent flood that leaves the manor in chaos. The protagonist, determined to rid his home of this annual menace, devises a clever plan to confront and ultimately outwit the ghost.
The Water Ghost of Harrowby Hall by John Kendrick Bangs (1891)
The trouble with Harrowby Hall was that it was haunted, and, what was worse, the ghost did not content itself with merely appearing at the bedside of the afflicted person who saw it, but persisted in remaining there for one mortal hour before it would disappear.
It never appeared except on Christmas Eve, and then as the clock was striking twelve, in which respect alone was it lacking in that originality which in these days is a sine qua non of success in spectral life. The owners of Harrowby Hall had done their utmost to rid themselves of the damp and dewy lady who rose up out of the best bedroom floor at midnight, but without avail. They had tried stopping the clock, so that the ghost would not know when it was midnight; but she made her appearance just the same, with that fearful miasmatic personality of hers, and there she would stand until everything about her was thoroughly saturated.
Then the owners of Harrowby Hall calked up every crack in the floor with the very best quality of hemp, and over this was placed layers of tar and canvas; the walls were made water-proof, and the doors and windows likewise, the proprietors having conceived the notion that the unexorcised lady would find it difficult to leak into the room after these precautions had been taken; but even this did not suffice. The following Christmas Eve she appeared as promptly as before, and frightened the occupant of the room quite out of his senses by sitting down alongside of him and gazing with her cavernous blue eyes into his; and he noticed, too, that in her long, aqueously bony fingers bits of dripping sea-weed were entwined, the ends hanging down, and these ends she drew across his forehead until he became like one insane. And then he swooned away, and was found unconscious in his bed the next morning by his host, simply saturated with sea-water and fright, from the combined effects of which he never recovered, dying four years later of pneumonia and nervous prostration at the age of seventy-eight.
The next year the master of Harrowby Hall decided not to have the best spare bedroom opened at all, thinking that perhaps the ghost’s thirst for making herself disagreeable would be satisfied by haunting the furniture, but the plan was as unavailing as the many that had preceded it.
The ghost appeared as usual in the room—that is, it was supposed she did, for the hangings were dripping wet the next morning, and in the parlor below the haunted room a great damp spot appeared on the ceiling. Finding no one there, she immediately set out to learn the reason why, and she chose none other to haunt than the owner of the Harrowby himself. She found him in his own cosey room drinking whiskey—whiskey undiluted—and felicitating himself upon having foiled her ghostship, when all of a sudden the curl went out of his hair, his whiskey bottle filled and overflowed, and he was himself in a condition similar to that of a man who has fallen into a water-butt. When he recovered from the shock, which was a painful one, he saw before him the lady of the cavernous eyes and sea-weed fingers. The sight was so unexpected and so terrifying that he fainted, but immediately came to, because of the vast amount of water in his hair, which, trickling down over his face, restored his consciousness.
Now it so happened that the master of Harrowby was a brave man, and while he was not particularly fond of interviewing ghosts, especially such quenching ghosts as the one before him, he was not to be daunted by an apparition. He had paid the lady the compliment of fainting from the effects of his first surprise, and now that he had come to he intended to find out a few things he felt he had a right to know. He would have liked to put on a dry suit of clothes first, but the apparition declined to leave him for an instant until her hour was up, and he was forced to deny himself that pleasure. Every time he would move she would follow him, with the result that everything she came in contact with got a ducking. In an effort to warm himself up he approached the fire, an unfortunate move as it turned out, because it brought the ghost directly over the fire, which immediately was extinguished. The whiskey became utterly valueless as a comforter to his chilled system, because it was by this time diluted to a proportion of ninety per cent of water. The only thing he could do to ward off the evil effects of his encounter he did, and that was to swallow ten two-grain quinine pills, which he managed to put into his mouth before the ghost had time to interfere. Having done this, he turned with some asperity to the ghost, and said:
“Far be it from me to be impolite to a woman, madam, but I’m hanged if it wouldn’t please me better if you’d stop these infernal visits of yours to this house. Go sit out on the lake, if you like that sort of thing; soak the water-butt, if you wish; but do not, I implore you, come into a gentleman’s house and saturate him and his possessions in this way. It is damned disagreeable.”
“Henry Hartwick Oglethorpe,” said the ghost, in a gurgling voice, “you don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Madam,” returned the unhappy householder, “I wish that remark were strictly truthful. I was talking about you. It would be shillings and pence—nay, pounds, in my pocket, madam, if I did not know you.”
“That is a bit of specious nonsense,” returned the ghost, throwing a quart of indignation into the face of the master of Harrowby. “It may rank high as repartee, but as a comment upon my statement that you do not know what you are talking about, it savors of irrelevant impertinence. You do not know that I am compelled to haunt this place year after year by inexorable fate. It is no pleasure to me to enter this house, and ruin and mildew everything I touch. I never aspired to be a shower-bath, but it is my doom. Do you know who I am?”
“No, I don’t,” returned the master of Harrowby. “I should say you were the Lady of the Lake, or Little Sallie Waters.”
“You are a witty man for your years,” said the ghost.
“Well, my humor is drier than yours ever will be,” returned the master.
“No doubt. I’m never dry. I am the Water Ghost of Harrowby Hall, and dryness is a quality entirely beyond my wildest hope. I have been the incumbent of this highly unpleasant office for two hundred years to-night.”
“How the deuce did you ever come to get elected?” asked the master.
“Through a suicide,” replied the spectre. “I am the ghost of that fair maiden whose picture hangs over the mantel-piece in the drawing-room. I should have been your great-great-great-great-great-aunt if I had lived, Henry Hartwick Oglethorpe, for I was the own sister of your great-great-great-great-grandfather.”
“But what induced you to get this house into such a predicament?”
“I was not to blame, sir,” returned the lady. “It was my father’s fault. He it was who built Harrowby Hall, and the haunted chamber was to have been mine. My father had it furnished in pink and yellow, knowing well that blue and gray formed the only combination of color I could tolerate. He did it merely to spite me, and, with what I deem a proper spirit, I declined to live in the room; whereupon my father said I could live there or on the lawn, he didn’t care which. That night I ran from the house and jumped over the cliff into the sea.”
“That was rash,” said the master of Harrowby.
“So I’ve heard,” returned the ghost. “If I had known what the consequences were to be I should not have jumped; but I really never realized what I was doing until after I was drowned. I had been drowned a week when a sea-nymph came to me and informed me that I was to be one of her followers forever afterwards, adding that it should be my doom to haunt Harrowby Hall for one hour every Christmas Eve throughout the rest of eternity. I was to haunt that room on such Christmas Eves as I found it inhabited; and if it should turn out not to be inhabited, I was and am to spend the allotted hour with the head of the house.”
“I’ll sell the place.”
“That you cannot do, for it is also required of me that I shall appear as the deeds are to be delivered to any purchaser, and divulge to him the awful secret of the house.”
“Do you mean to tell me that on every Christmas Eve that I don’t happen to have somebody in that guest-chamber, you are going to haunt me wherever I may be, ruining my whiskey, taking all the curl out of my hair, extinguishing my fire, and soaking me through to the skin?” demanded the master.
“You have stated the case, Oglethorpe. And what is more,” said the water ghost, “it doesn’t make the slightest difference where you are, if I find that room empty, wherever you may be I shall douse you with my spectral pres—”
Here the clock struck one, and immediately the apparition faded away. It was perhaps more of a trickle than a fade, but as a disappearance it was complete.
“By St. George and his Dragon!” ejaculated the master of Harrowby, wringing his hands. “It is guineas to hot-cross buns that next Christmas there’s an occupant of the spare room, or I spend the night in a bath-tub.”
But the master of Harrowby would have lost his wager had there been any one there to take him up, for when Christmas Eve came again he was in his grave, never having recovered from the cold contracted that awful night. Harrowby Hall was closed, and the heir to the estate was in London, where to him in his chambers came the same experience that his father had gone through, saving only that, being younger and stronger, he survived the shock. Everything in his rooms was ruined—his clocks were rusted in the works; a fine collection of water-color drawings was entirely obliterated by the onslaught of the water ghost; and what was worse, the apartments below his were drenched with the water soaking through the floors, a damage for which he was compelled to pay, and which resulted in his being requested by his landlady to vacate the premises immediately.
The story of the visitation inflicted upon his family had gone abroad, and no one could be got to invite him out to any function save afternoon teas and receptions. Fathers of daughters declined to permit him to remain in their houses later than eight o’clock at night, not knowing but that some emergency might arise in the supernatural world which would require the unexpected appearance of the water ghost in this on nights other than Christmas Eve, and before the mystic hour when weary churchyards, ignoring the rules which are supposed to govern polite society, begin to yawn. Nor would the maids themselves have aught to do with him, fearing the destruction by the sudden incursion of aqueous femininity of the costumes which they held most dear.
So the heir of Harrowby Hall resolved, as his ancestors for several generations before him had resolved, that something must be done. His first thought was to make one of his servants occupy the haunted room at the crucial moment; but in this he failed, because the servants themselves knew the history of that room and rebelled. None of his friends would consent to sacrifice their personal comfort to his, nor was there to be found in all England a man so poor as to be willing to occupy the doomed chamber on Christmas Eve for pay.
Then the thought came to the heir to have the fireplace in the room enlarged, so that he might evaporate the ghost at its first appearance, and he was felicitating himself upon the ingenuity of his plan, when he remembered what his father had told him—how that no fire could withstand the lady’s extremely contagious dampness. And then he bethought him of steam-pipes. These, he remembered, could lie hundreds of feet deep in water, and still retain sufficient heat to drive the water away in vapor; and as a result of this thought the haunted room was heated by steam to a withering degree, and the heir for six months attended daily the Turkish baths, so that when Christmas Eve came he could himself withstand the awful temperature of the room.
The scheme was only partially successful. The water ghost appeared at the specified time, and found the heir of Harrowby prepared; but hot as the room was, it shortened her visit by no more than five minutes in the hour, during which time the nervous system of the young master was wellnigh shattered, and the room itself was cracked and warped to an extent which required the outlay of a large sum of money to remedy. And worse than this, as the last drop of the water ghost was slowly sizzling itself out on the floor, she whispered to her would-be conqueror that his scheme would avail him nothing, because there was still water in great plenty where she came from, and that next year would find her rehabilitated and as exasperatingly saturating as ever.
It was then that the natural action of the mind, in going from one extreme to the other, suggested to the ingenious heir of Harrowby the means by which the water ghost was ultimately conquered, and happiness once more came within the grasp of the house of Oglethorpe.
The heir provided himself with a warm suit of fur under-clothing. Donning this with the furry side in, he placed over it a rubber garment, tightfitting, which he wore just as a woman wears a jersey. On top of this he placed another set of under-clothing, this suit made of wool, and over this was a second rubber garment like the first. Upon his head he placed a light and comfortable diving helmet, and so clad, on the following Christmas Eve he awaited the coming of his tormentor.
It was a bitterly cold night that brought to a close this twenty-fourth day of December. The air outside was still, but the temperature was below zero. Within all was quiet, the servants of Harrowby Hall awaiting with beating hearts the outcome of their master’s campaign against his supernatural visitor.
The master himself was lying on the bed in the haunted room, clad as has already been indicated, and then—
The clock clanged out the hour of twelve.
There was a sudden banging of doors, a blast of cold air swept through the halls, the door leading into the haunted chamber flew open, a splash was heard, and the water ghost was seen standing at the side of the heir of Harrowby, from whose outer dress there streamed rivulets of water, but whose own person deep down under the various garments he wore was as dry and as warm as he could have wished.
“Ha!” said the young master of Harrowby. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You are the most original man I’ve met, if that is true,” returned the ghost. “May I ask where did you get that hat?”
“Certainly, madam,” returned the master, courteously. “It is a little portable observatory I had made for just such emergencies as this. But, tell me, is it true that you are doomed to follow me about for one mortal hour—to stand where I stand, to sit where I sit?”
“That is my delectable fate,” returned the lady.
“We’ll go out on the lake,” said the master, starting up.
“You can’t get rid of me that way,” returned the ghost. “The water won’t swallow me up; in fact, it will just add to my present bulk.”
“Nevertheless,” said the master, firmly, “we will go out on the lake.”
“But, my dear sir,” returned the ghost, with a pale reluctance, “it is fearfully cold out there. You will be frozen hard before you’ve been out ten minutes.”
“Oh no, I’ll not,” replied the master. “I am very warmly dressed. Come!” This last in a tone of command that made the ghost ripple.
And they started.
They had not gone far before the water ghost showed signs of distress.
“You walk too slowly,” she said. “I am nearly frozen. My knees are so stiff now I can hardly move. I beseech you to accelerate your step.”
“I should like to oblige a lady,” returned the master, courteously, “but my clothes are rather heavy, and a hundred yards an hour is about my speed. Indeed, I think we would better sit down here on this snowdrift, and talk matters over.”
“Do not! Do not do so, I beg!” cried the ghost. “Let me move on. I feel myself growing rigid as it is. If we stop here, I shall be frozen stiff.”
“That, madam,” said the master slowly, and seating himself on an ice-cake—”that is why I have brought you here. We have been on this spot just ten minutes, we have fifty more. Take your time about it, madam, but freeze, that is all I ask of you.”
“I cannot move my right leg now,” cried the ghost, in despair, “and my overskirt is a solid sheet of ice. Oh, good, kind Mr. Oglethorpe, light a fire, and let me go free from these icy fetters.”
“Never, madam. It cannot be. I have you at last.”
“Alas!” cried the ghost, a tear trickling down her frozen cheek. “Help me, I beg. I congeal!”
“Congeal, madam, congeal!” returned Oglethorpe, coldly. “You have drenched me and mine for two hundred and three years, madam. To-night you have had your last drench.”
“Ah, but I shall thaw out again, and then you’ll see. Instead of the comfortably tepid, genial ghost I have been in my past, sir, I shall be iced-water,” cried the lady, threateningly.
“No, you won’t, either,” returned Oglethorpe; “for when you are frozen quite stiff, I shall send you to a cold-storage warehouse, and there shall you remain an icy work of art forever more.”
“But warehouses burn.”
“So they do, but this warehouse cannot burn. It is made of asbestos and surrounding it are fire-proof walls, and within those walls the temperature is now and shall forever be 416 degrees below the zero point; low enough to make an icicle of any flame in this world—or the next,” the master added, with an ill-suppressed chuckle.
“For the last time let me beseech you. I would go on my knees to you, Oglethorpe, were they not already frozen. I beg of you do not doo—”
Here even the words froze on the water ghost’s lips and the clock struck one. There was a momentary tremor throughout the ice-bound form, and the moon, coming out from behind a cloud, shone down on the rigid figure of a beautiful woman sculptured in clear, transparent ice. There stood the ghost of Harrowby Hall, conquered by the cold, a prisoner for all time.
The heir of Harrowby had won at last, and to-day in a large storage house in London stands the frigid form of one who will never again flood the house of Oglethorpe with woe and sea-water.
As for the heir of Harrowby, his success in coping with a ghost has made him famous, a fame that still lingers about him, although his victory took place some twenty years ago; and so far from being unpopular with the fair sex, as he was when we first knew him, he has not only been married twice, but is to lead a third bride to the altar before the year is out.
After a humble life as a shoemaker on Santorini in Greece, a man was said to have come back as a Vrykolakas, the vampire of Greek folklore. But for this Vrykolaka, it wasn’t to devour human life that kept him going.
Thought to be haunting the dark seas of the north, the Sea Draug is a ghost of the drowned fishermen’s and other unfortunate souls who perished on the waters.
After tragedy struck and the Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, the surviving crew members were sent to The Jane Street Hotel in New York. According to stories, they are still haunting the rooms, where the trauma of their tragedy lingers.
Who can be haunting the old Hald Pensjonat in Mandal? Playing soft piano music in the afterlife, and rumours about the footsteps of a Norwegian pirate seems to linger.
Hidden among human society, the vampiric Mandurugo creature is slowly draining her unassuming husbands of their blood and life to sustain her eternal youth and beauty.
The MS Nordstjernen spent decades bringing passengers north across the arctic sea, and although the waters can be brought this far north, it always seemed to reach port unharmed. Some think that it could be Ernst, the ship’s ghosts.
The DNT Cabin Flisberget deep in the mystical forest of Finnskogen, bordering Norway and Sweden has a lot of strange tales coming from it. So much so, that it was voted the scariest cabin in the country.
Could one of the musicians on the Titanic be haunting the Devonshire Park Theatre in Eastbourne, England? Who is the person behind the ghost said to still be playing the violin?
Soria Moria: The Villa Fridheim is often called the Soria Moria castle, a name from Norwegian folktales about the hidden castle where the hero will find the princess. It has also now turned into an expression for expectations about a great place.
Said to be found deep in the mountain range MacGillycuddy’s Reeks in Kerry, Ireland, the ruins of Dun Dreach-Fhoula castle is said to be the home of bloodthirsty fairies of the Otherworld. Question is if it’s an ancient legend or a modern hoax.
After being stranded on their little island at Struten Lighthouse in stormy weather with the waves crashing in, a woman succumbed to her illness and has since then been haunting it, still waiting for the help that never came.
The once stately Sauda Fjordhotel is said to be haunted by a remorseful colonel, who took his own life when his womanizing ways lost him the love of his life.
The original owner of the Dorrington Hotel in California is said to be haunting it. One Christmas the ghost of the former mistress of the place went knocking down every fake Christmas Tree the current owner had put up.
In the picturesque and mountainous landscape of Calaveras County, California, the Dorrington Hotel is not just a charming relic of the past, but also a hotbed of paranormal activity. Established in the mid-19th century, this historic hotel of the Gold Rush Time in California, is said to be haunted by its former mistress, Rebecca Dorrington Gardner, whose restless spirit roams the halls, particularly during the Christmas season.
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With its storied past and eerie occurrences, like the very name, Calaveras, Spanish for Skulls after the reported remains of natives, the Dorrington Hotel offers a chilling blend of history and hauntings in the sequoia redwoods.
Dorrington Hotel: The place is still in operation even to this day, even years after the Gold Rush died down. It is however said to be haunted by the original owner today.
The Legacy of John Gardner and his Inn
The Dorrington Hotel was built in 1852 by John and Rebecca Gardner, on top of the Big Valley Road as a coach stop were it served as a depot for stockmen as well as a summer resort. John Gardner, a Scottish immigrant, purchased a small sheep ranch and 160 acres of land from Barnabus Smith when it was still just a trail passing by the Miwok and Washoe Native land. Smith, a former Private Captain in the Massachusetts Militia during the War of 1812, had been granted the land for his military service.
“This is the place!” he wrote to his new bride, Rebecca, who had remained at home in Scotland, waiting for his word. Gardner quickly turned the property known for its cold springs, and he called it first, Cold Spring Ranch, into a profitable roadside business, providing refuge for countless emigrants journeying over the Central Sierra Mountains.
The Lady of the Night: Rebecca Dorrington Gardner
Rebecca Dorrington Gardner, the beloved mistress of the hotel, sailed from Scotland to join her husband in the Sierra Gold Country, and the place was soon called Dorrington, her maiden name. She survived her husband by many years, however, legend has it that she met a tragic end that left her spirit bound to the place she once managed.
It is said that Rebecca suffered fatal injuries in 1870 when she fell down the rear staircase of the hotel. Some also claim she went out in a snowstorm and lost her way as she froze to death. Others say she was massacred by the natives. Though historical records indicate she passed away on October 16, 1910, in Altaville, California when she was 83 years old, her ghostly presence remains a fixture at the Dorrington Hotel.
Visitors and staff have frequently reported encountering Rebecca’s spirit, peeking out threw curtains in unopccupied rooms, not really liking how the new owners keeps interfering in her buisness. Her spectral activities include doors mysteriously opening and closing, lights flickering, and furniture inexplicably moving.
The hotel’s dining room is a common spot for sightings, with many claiming to see or feel her presence as she glides through the space. Many guests also claim that they have seen the ghost of her fall down the stairs as a ghostly reenactment of her death.
Rebecca’s ghost also seems to enjoy interacting with modern technology, often triggering the motion detectors installed around the hotel.
One time it was said she warned the owner at the time og a gas leak in the kitchen. According to the stoy, she woke him up in the middle of the night to warn him.
The Christmas Tree Incident
The Christmas season brings an increase in Rebecca’s ghostly activities. One particularly spine-chilling tale involves the annual holiday decorations. One year, the hotel’s owner decided to place an artificial Christmas tree in every room. To everyone’s astonishment, each night Rebecca would go from room to room, knocking the trees down. Every morning, the staff and guests would find the trees toppled over, a clear sign of Rebecca’s nocturnal rounds.
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In another eerie incident, the owner, Marc Lanthier, experienced something that solidified the hotel’s haunted reputation. One Christmas after this event, Marc took two pictures of the hotel adorned with Christmas lights. When he uploaded the photos to his computer, he discovered something unsettling. One photo was bright and clear, while the other showed a vaporous figure floating over the hotel. Could this be Rebecca Dorrington Gardner, still overseeing her beloved establishment?
Christmas Haunting: Christmas seems to be a season where the haunted occurrences get more frequent. The alleged ghost seems to have a period of adjustments to new owners and new traditions and way of operating the hotel. Could the use of plastic Christmas trees be a trigger this one Christmas?
Other Ghostly Residents at Dorrington Hotel
Rebecca is not the only spirit said to haunt the Dorrington Hotel. Guests have reported hearing the laughter and footsteps of children in the dead of night, despite there being no children present. Could this be some of the four children of the original owners that are haunting the hotel together with their mother?
Many guests visiting the Dorrington Hotel specifically seek out the paranormal, hoping for a glimpse of Rebecca or the other spirits said to reside there. Some overnight visitors have reported finding a single footprint by their beds, believed to be left by Rebecca as she patrols the hotel at night.
A Night In the Gold Rush Country
The Dorrington Hotel remains a captivating blend of history and hauntings, with its rich past and active ghostly presence. And during the Christmas season, the chances of encountering Rebecca Dorrington Gardner increases if we are to believe the stories, not pleased at all about the fake and plastic aspect of the modern Christmas traditions.
David Fee was just going to Christmas Mass in Victoria, Canada when he was shot down by accident by a man waiting for another. After this, he has been spotted where he died as well as his grave site, especially during the Christmas season.
“Just as the clock was striking midnight, ushering in the joyous Christmas day, a crime as dark, cowardly and mysterious as ever disfigured the history of this province was perpetuated,” – The Daily Colonist on Dec. 25, 1890.
On a chilling Christmas Eve in 1890, the quaint streets of Victoria, British Columbia, were forever marked by a sinister event that has left its ghostly imprint on Bastion Square. The story of David Fee, whose life was abruptly and tragically cut short, continues to haunt this picturesque area, drawing both curious onlookers and ghost enthusiasts.
A Night of Festivity Turns to Horror
David Fee, a young man of only 21 years, was full of holiday spirit and was in town to visit his parents. After attending a lively costume party, he set off to join his parents for midnight mass at a nearby church. Inside Victoria’s St. Andrew Cathedral there were already prayers and the Christmas caroling had already begun.
Clad in a white clown costume, he made his way through the festive streets. The bells of the cathedral began to toll at midnight, marking the transition from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day.
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At the same time, Clarence Phelan/Lawrence Whelan, a watchman at the cathedral drank whiskey and waited on a man who had told him to take down his Irish Independence flag. He knew the man was wearing a white overcoat.
As Fee approached the corner where the cathedral stood, the atmosphere suddenly shifted from festive to menacing. A figure emerged from the shadows, a double-barrel shotgun in hand. The assailant’s voice broke the stillness of the night with a chilling declaration: “You challenged me!“
Before David Fee could utter a word in his defense, the shotgun blast echoed through the night, and he fell to the ground, lifeless. It was said by some that it went off accidentally. The people in the church rushed out and saw him in a pool of blood, covered in powder burns.
The attacker, it turned out, had mistaken Fee for another man, leading to a tragic case of mistaken identity. He turned himself in and was convicted for manslaughter.
The Haunting of David Fee Begins
From that fateful night onward, the spirit of David Fee is said to have lingered in Bastion Square on the steps of the Cathedral or in Ross Bay Cemetery were he was buried. Many believe that his soul, restless and wronged, continues to roam the streets where he met his untimely end.
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Visitors to the area have reported sightings of a circling mist and a ghostly figure dressed in white, wandering the vicinity of the cathedral and the nearby graveyard where Fee was laid to rest. His spectral presence is particularly strong during the Christmas season, the anniversary of his death.
By Santa’s side, you will sometimes find his evil companion, Krampus, finding children and punishing them if they have been bad. But who really is this monster, coming after you on Krampusnacht.
When we think of Christmas, images of jolly Santa Claus, reindeer, and brightly wrapped presents come to mind. Family gathers for meals by the Christmas tree and it is all around a jolly festivity. However, nestled within the festive cheer of December lies a darker, more sinister figure from Alpine folklore: Krampus. This half-goat, half-demon creature is said to haunt the Christmas season that starts early in December in some parts of Europe, offering a chilling contrast to the joyous celebrations.
Origins of Krampus from the European Alps
Krampus’ origins can be traced back to pre-Christian Alpine traditions, stretching through many European countries, where he was believed to be a pagan entity associated with winter and inspired by the mythological creature of Perchten or Straggele. The tradition of Krampus has often mostly been celebrated in Austria, Hungary and Germany, but there are also cases in the surrounding alpine countries.
Krampus is thought to come from either Bavarian: krampn, meaning “dead”, “rotten”, or from the German: kramp/krampen, meaning “claw”. Where does he come from? Some say that he is the son of Hel in Norse mythology, popularized by an American artist, and it also shares some things with satyrs and fauns from Greek mythology. Krampus is typically depicted with long, curved horns, a lolling tongue, and a body covered in fur. Chains and bells often hang from his body, symbolizing the binding of the Devil by the Christian Church.
As Christianity spread through Europe, Krampus was incorporated into Christian traditions, specifically as a counterpart to Saint Nicholas and this is really where his popularity and lore took off. Perhaps losing a bit of his pagan touch like a pan-like creature, morphing into something more devilish.
While Saint Nicholas rewards well-behaved children with gifts, Krampus punishes those who have been naughty, beating them with a stick, stuffing them in a sack and taking them away. A sort of St. Nicholas helper. This duality embodies the balance between reward and punishment, good and evil, that pervades much of folklore.
The Night of Krampus: Krampusnacht
On the night of December 5th, known as Krampusnacht, or Krampus Night, the demon emerges to roam the streets. In towns across Austria, Germany, and other parts of Europe, men dress up as Krampus and participate in parades known as Krampuslauf, or Krampus Run. During these events, the costumed figures terrorize onlookers with their ghastly appearances and playful, yet alarming antics.
This is based on the old legend of how the young men with their cow bells and sticks disperse the winter’s ghosts.
According to legend, Krampus carries a bundle of birch sticks to swat naughty children and a sack or basket on his back to cart off those he deems particularly bad. The threat of being caught by Krampus is meant to encourage good behavior among children, serving as a dark reminder of the consequences of misdeeds.
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Although the tradition has started to pick up again, it wasn’t always like it. After the first world war they started to ban Krampus traditions and for a time, they almost disappeared entirely.
Krampuslauf: From the Krampus run in 2010 where around 300 scary, dark figures strolled around the Grazer Krampuslauf and were accompanied by a heavy snowfall and numerous visitors through the Grazer Herrengasse.
The Modern Krampus
In recent years, Krampus has experienced a resurgence in popularity, crossing over into mainstream culture. Why? Is it how Europeans are connecting more with their pagan roots? Perhaps because of how modern society is diverting more and more from its classic christian and religious connotations? Perhaps throughout the years he has turned more devil-like than goat-like, especially in popular culture.
Horror films, books, and television shows have introduced Krampus to new audiences, solidifying his role as a dark counterbalance to the merriment of Christmas. While many still celebrate Krampusnacht with traditional parades and festivities, the legend of Krampus has also sparked a fascination with the more macabre aspects of the holiday season.
Krampus Postcards: For a time it was very popular to send Christmas cards of Krampus, in his usual habitat where he was punishing children. There were also many grown up themes with having Krampus as a boyfriend and the likes.
A Throwback to Ancient Christmas Times
Krampus stands as a stark reminder that Christmas is not solely a time of joy and generosity. His haunting presence and the eerie stories that surround him add a layer of complexity to the festive season, blending ancient folklore with modern traditions.
Whether viewed as a cautionary figure or a symbol of the darker side of human nature, Krampus continues to captivate and terrify, ensuring that the spirit of Christmas is never taken for granted. To appease him, it is said you should offer him some Schnapps. As the night of Krampusnacht approaches, remember to be on your best behavior, for you never know when the demon of Christmas might pay you a visit.
Deep under the Wawel Castle in Kraków, in the caves known as the Dragon’s Den, a royal gathering is said to happen every Christmas Eve. All former Kings that once ruled Poland come together in a ghostly reunion to discuss how their country is going.
Beneath the historic Wawel Castle in Kraków, the former capital of Poland, lies a labyrinthine cave known as the Dragon’s Den, or Smocza Jama. This legendary limestone cave leading to the bank of the Vistula, steeped in myth and history, is said to be the haunt of the fearsome Wawel Dragon.
However, a more spectral tale weaves through the stone corridors of this eerie underworld stretching 276 meters: the ghosts of Poland’s kings are rumored to gather here on Christmas Eve, shrouded in an ethereal glow and cloaked in mystery.
Wawel Castle: In the winter time, it is said that the old King’s of Poland gathers under the castle on Christmas Eve.
Wawel Royal Castle
The castle Zamek Królewski na Wawelu on the limestone outcrop Wawel Hill is a fortified place established by the orders of King Casimir III the Great who reigned in the 1300s, although some of the oldest buildings can be traced back to 970. Over the centuries the building grew and today it has some representation of almost all European styles stretching from the Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque period.
The castle used to be the residence of the Polish kings for centuries and at its peak, the seat of one of Europe’s most important states and is today the 20th most visited art museum in the world. Now, there are no more kings in Poland except those from history and said to be haunting the Dragon’s Den, said to be where a legendary dragon lived centuries ago.
The Legend of the Wawel Dragon
Statue made as remembrance of the Wawel Dragon
The legend of the Wawel Dragon, Smok Wawelski, dates back to the early Middle Ages when King Krak established Krakow, when the beast was said to terrorize the local populace, demanding tribute in the form of livestock and maidens. The king’s son managed to stop the dragon when he fed it sheep filled with sulfur.
However, the younger prince wanted the credit for it, and killed his brother. He was banished though and Princess Wanda got the kingdom. The oldest written telling of the story came in a 12th century work in Wincenty Kadłubek’s Chronica Polonorum, but the legend got many adaptations.
Throughout the years, the legends changed, sometimes it was the king himself who freed them. But the most retold legend tells about how the dragon met its demise at the hands of a clever shoemaker or cobbler named Krak, who fed it a sheep filled with sulfur. It had to drink gallons of water from the River Vistula until it exploded. Krak then married the princess and became king. He built his castle on top of the hill and former dragon’s lair. The creature’s fiery end marked the beginning of the Dragon’s Den’s sinister reputation, a reputation that would only grow with time.
The Wawel Dragon: in Sebastian Münster’s Cosmographie Universalis (1544)
The Royal Ghosts of Wawel
The Wawel Castle has long been the seat of Polish royalty, hosting kings and queens, their courts, and their secrets. It is said that the spirits of these monarchs, unable to rest peacefully in their royal tombs, are drawn to the Dragon’s Den on the holiest night of the year. The Dragon’s Den’s entrance can be found next to the Thieves Tower at the southwestern end of the castle grounds.
There are many strange talks about what really is inside of these caves. King Kazimir in the 11th claims that when he was a child, he went into one of the tunnels and found a glowing stone that contained magical energy that protects Krakow from invasion and harm.
It is also worth noting that there were both taverns and brothels inside of the cave systems that kings frequented through hidden corridors. So what the kings really return to inside of the cave, who really knows.
But the strangest haunted rumor is definitely the annual Christmas tradition that the ghost of the former kings have started, as they all gather here on Christmas Eve
Ghostly Gathering for Christmas in the Dragon’s Den
Christmas Eve, a time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is believed to be thinnest, sees the cavern come alive with ghostly activity. As the clock strikes midnight, the spectral forms of Poland’s past rulers emerge from the shadows, gathering in the cave for a macabre reunion. Cloaked in regal attire, these phantoms carry with them the weight of centuries of history, their translucent forms shimmering in the dim light of the cave.
As the bell tolls, the ringing wakes a pair of enchanted knights who leave the cave and rides to the castle. They knock on the door of the chamber under the castle itself to wake King Bolesław Chrobry the Brave who was the first crowned king of Poland. He then takes the throne for one night only and leads the council of the dead kings that have gathered.
Among the spectral assembly, the imposing figure of King Casimir III the Great is often recognized. Known for his extensive contributions to Polish law and infrastructure, his ghostly presence commands respect even in death. Another frequent apparition is that of King Sigismund III Vasa, whose reign saw the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth reach its zenith. Their spirits, along with those of other monarchs, gather to recount their deeds, their triumphs, and their regrets.
The ghosts of Poland’s kings, gathering in the Dragon’s Den on Christmas Eve, provide a haunting reminder of the country’s rich and turbulent history. Their spectral assembly, shrouded in mystery and bathed in the glow of the supernatural, continues to captivate the imaginations of those who hear the tale. Over the Wawel Cathedral where the burial site of at least 16 different kings is, there has been hanging Dragon bones next to the entrance since the 16th century. The legend is, if they ever break or fall, Krakow will go under.
A cruel and rebel knight is said to have cursed all of his properties he was robbed off. Now, it is said that the ghost of Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville is appearing on Christmas Eve together with his headless dogs on his former estates.
In the chilly stillness of Christmas Eve 1932, a small group of curious people gathered at a bridge over Pymms Brook in Oak Hill Park in East Barnet in the North London Suburb. Midnight approached, and with it came the echo of “uncanny sounds” that beckoned them southwards. They followed these spectral noises through the cold night until they reached Monks Frith, where they were met with an eerie sight they had long anticipated: the apparition of a headless hound. Moments later, the shimmering figure of a knight clad in silver armor and a flowing red cloak appeared, completing the haunting tableau.
Oak Hill Park: A bridge in the Oak Hill Park in East Barnet.
Oak Hill Park and The Ghost Promenade
The group gathered at Oak Hill Park was not there by mere chance. They had come to witness a haunting that has been whispered about for centuries, a spectral procession that recurs every six years during the Christmas season. The place where he was seen was even called The Ghost Promenade.
In 1926 there was also a watchman at work in Church Hill Road. According to Mr. Gibson saw the ghost as a skeleton, still wearing a metal breast plate and a black cape. When there was a group trying to stay at the night-watchman’s hut they didn’t see anything, but heard it all. According to them, just past midnight, a rumbling of many hoofs came through and the ground shook.
It is said that in the early 1930s on a clear summer’s day, there was an ancient oak tree by Church Hill Road that, without any reason, burst into flames. Although it was much speculated about, no one really found the reason behind it and it just turned into the many strange things said to happen in the park. It was also said that it was under this tree, the religious self described prophet Joanna Southcott sat under when she got her visions left in her box.
The ghostly knight and his headless canine companion are said to roam the southern Hertfordshire and northern Middlesex regions, a chilling reminder of a turbulent past. This spectral knight is none other than Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville.
Church Hill Road: Entrance to the Oak Hill Park from Church Hill Road. This is the place where the cursed knight is said to have made an appearance. // Source: David Howard
The Anarchy and Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville’s Curse
Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville lived through one of England’s most chaotic periods, known as the Anarchy. This civil war, characterized by brutal power struggles between King Stephen and Empress Matilda for the English throne, saw many noblemen shifting allegiances over the two decades it lasted.
Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville, the Earl of Essex, was a significant figure during this time as the first constable of the Tower of London, with manors in Barnet, South Mimms, and Monken Hadley. He was from an old family with his Grandfather appointed an earl by William the Conqueror. He was known as a cunning man though and his life was marked by betrayal to both sides, rebellion, and excommunication and is said to have been the worst of the cruel and lawless barons during this era.
In 1143, after being arrested and stripped of his lands by King Stephen, Geoffrey launched a rebellion, seizing and fortifying Ramsey Abbey. He retreated as a rebel and bandit in the fen-country east in England. There he used the Isle of Ely and the Ramsey Abbey as his headquarters and the legends around him grew.
His desecration of the abbey led to his excommunication by the Pope, and chronicler Henry of Huntingdon wrote that during Geoffrey’s occupation, “blood exuded from the walls of the church and cloister adjoining, witnessing the divine indignation.”
Geoffrey died in battle in 1144 after being shot by an arrow when he was laying siege to Burwell Castle, still under excommunication, and was denied a Christian burial. His body was placed in a lead coffin by the Knights Templars; he was finally accepted a burial within the Temple Church in London. Before this though, his body was left in the Old Temple in Holborn for 20 years. Some say that it was hung from a tree in the casket.
The Grave of the Knight: His grave was found in the Templers church in London. After many years, he was finally put to rest and his exile was lifted years after his death.
The Haunting of The Granges
So where were the estates he owned? It is said that it was around ten. One is around East Barnet, where the sighting of him can be seen in Oak Park. On top of Mandeville’s old fortress in East Barnet they built an old house on top of the Grange. When they dug into the foundations, disturbing it, a haunting started. They saw stamping of footsteps and clanking of spurs.
As with Oak Park, people also claimed to have seen the same sight of a man on horse, dressed for battle.
Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville Haunting Hertfordshire Enfield Chase
Despite Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville’s tumultuous life largely unfolding away from Hertfordshire, his spirit is said to patrol the lands around Enfield Chase, an area that straddles Hertfordshire and Middlesex. These lands were once part of his power base, and his titles included Sheriff of Hertfordshire and was in the family for hundreds of years.
The exact reason for his spectral presence in these areas is unclear, but it may be linked to a curse he allegedly laid upon the foundation of Walden Abbey and other properties he owned.
He said if you took away his endowments to it they would: “feel the curse of Almighty God, of St Mary, of blessed James the Apostle and of all the saints in this present life; and that in life to come may he receive everlasting torment with the traitor Judas, unless he repents and makes amends.”
This curse seemingly came to pass during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, potentially binding Geoffrey’s spirit to these lands in eternal indignation and making him return every 6 years to his former estates.
The Red-Cloaked Knight’s Return
Legend has it that Sir Geoffrey’s ghost, accompanied by his headless dog, appears every six years around Christmas Eve. Where the dog comes from though is uncertain. Witnesses have described the headless hound as a chilling prelude to the knight himself, who follows closely behind in his spectral armor and blood-red cloak, or black. This haunting presence serves as a stark reminder of the violence and curses of the past.
The next anticipated sighting of the Red-Cloaked Knight and his ghostly companion is said to be in 2028. Those who find themselves on the old lands of Sir Geoffrey de Mandeville on Christmas Eve might just encounter the eerie figures that have haunted this area for centuries.
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