Midnight Funeral Ghosts near Liverpool
Evening News, July 23rd 1891
“Having been concerned in a most remarkable and altogether inexplicable adventure recently, which happened to me in Thomas Lane, Knotty Ash, I have been induced, at the earnest solicitation of many friends, to communicate the following particulars of the same to the Liverpool public as being of more than ordinary interest.”
So writes a correspondent of the Liverpool Post.
I was proceeding leisurely on foot to Broadgreen, [he proceeds] when, on passing the church at Knotty Ash, my attention was suddenly arrested by the strange and uncanny appearances of its graveyards. The time would then be shortly, after midnight. The whole burying ground seemed alive and glistening with a thousand small bluish lights, which appeared to creep in and out of the different graves, as if the departed spirits were taking a midnight ramble. I stood petrified, not knowing what to make of it, at the same time experiencing a feeling of horror which suddenly took complete possession of me. Just at this moment the moon, which had hitherto been more or less obscured by a moving panorama of passing clouds, came, as it would seem, to my assistance, giving me for a very short time the benefit of her companionship. And now appeared the most startling phenomenon of all, a phenomenon which caused my hair to stand on end with fright, a cold numbness of horror paralysing me in every limb, for, advancing up the road directly opposite to me, came a funeral train, the coffin borne along with measured tread, covered with an immense black pall, which fluttered up in the midnight wind.
At first I thought I must surely be dreaming, and therefore pinched myself in the arm to ascertain if this were really the case. But no, I certainly was not, for I distinctly felt the nip, and was therefore satisfied as to my wakefulness. “What could it all mean?” I asked myself as the cortege gradually approached me, and I began to distinguish the general outlines of the bearers. These appeared to be elderly men and to have lived in a bygone age. All were dressed in the costume of the latter part of the 18th century. They wore tie wigs, and some had swords, as well as walking sticks, mounted with death’s heads. 1 observed only one really young man among the crowd of followers, walking just behind the coffin. His youth, in comparison with the others, perhaps made me take especial notice of him. He was dressed in what appeared to be black velvet, the whiteness of his ruffles standing out in marked contrast to the sombre nature of his general attire. He carried a sword, had diamond buckles in his shoes, and wore his powdered hair in a queue. The face of this young man was deathly pale, as were also the faces of all the others accompanying him. Instead of the procession advancing to the gate at which I stood, it turned suddenly and entered the burial ground by the one situated at a few yards’ distance. As the coffin was borne through this gate all the blue spirit lights seemed to rise from the graves as if to meet the cortege for the purpose of escorting the body to its last resting place, these awful lights added considerably to the ghastliness of the scene as they floated over the coffin and heads of the mourners. Slowly the procession glided up the pathway, passing the main entrance of the church, and, continuing its way in a straight line, finally disappeared at the back of the edifice. Where this most extraordinary funeral went to or what became of it I cannot tell, but this much I distinctly aver, that coffin, mourners, and lights, even the pale, flickering moonlight, all disappeared as mysteriously as they came, leaving me standing in the darkness, transfixed with astonishment and fright. Upon gathering together my somewhat scattered senses, I took to my heels and never stopped running till I found myself safe in my own house. In fact, I scarcely remember how I got home. After recovering a little from the shock I immediately aroused a female relative who had retired for the night, and related to her the above particulars. She assured me that I must have been suffering from mental hallucination, but, seeing the great perturbation of my mind, and at the same time knowing my natural scepticism with regard to all so called supernatural phenomena, she came to the conclusion that, after all, I might possibly have seen what has been described above.
The next day I made inquiries at the neighbourhood of Knotty Ash, and ascertained from a very old woman that she remembered a story in her youth having reference to the mysterious and sudden death of an old occupant of Thingwall Hall, who was hastily and quietly buried, she thought, at midnight, in old Knotty Ash churchyard. If so, was this a ghastly repetition of the event got up for my especial benefit, or was it a portent intended to foreshadow the coming of the Dread Visitor to myself? Now, as I have before stated, I am no believer in ghosts, but certainly this very remarkable experience of mine has entirely upset all my previously conceived notions of the subject, leaving me in a quandary of doubt. On the evening upon which I saw the mysterious midnight funeral at Knotty Ash I was exceedingly wide awake, had met several cyclists on the Prescott road, with whom I conversed, and had likewise refreshed myself at the public drinking fountain placed at the top of Thomas lane. Strange that a few hundred yards farther down the road I should encounter so ghostly an experience, one I shall never forget to my dying day.
THINGWALL HALL
A legend connected with the house which J. Hoult, author of
a book entitled "West Derby and Old Swan - Historical and Topographical",
published in 1909, heard on two separate occasions.
An occupier of the Hall died whilst insolvent, and as the custom was in the tenth century the creditors tried to seize the body for the purpose The relatives of the corpse, however, took the body, buried it at midnight, and so thwarted the creditors.
Thomas Crowther lived here in 1824 and at this time the hall was known as Summerhill. Thomas Case Mayor of Liverpool in 1817 lived there for a time. In 1845 the property was purchased from the executors of Thomas Case by Samuel Thompson. It descended through the Thompson family, to his son Samuel Henry Thompson and grandson, Henry Yates Thompson before being sold by Annie Thompson to Sir David Radcliffe at the beginning of 1899, who sold the property to a land company in 1903.
Carlisle Journal 02 August 1845
Death, Friday last Thingwall Hall, Thomas Case Esg , JP
Yorkshire Evening Post 20 December 1892
Mr Samuel Thompson of Thingwall Hall, Broadgreen, a well known banker, died on Saturday morning
Yorkshire Evening Post 10 February 1893
Liverpool Millionaire
The will of Mr Samuel Henry Thompson of Thingwall Hall, Broadgreen, formerly of the firm of Arthur Heywood, Sons and Co Liverpool, banker has been proved, personal value £1,133,792, proved by his executors, his sons Henry Yates THOMPSON, [lately proprietor of the Pall Mall Gazette] the Rev Samuel Ashton Thompson YATES, and Richard Heywood Thompson, power being reserved to grant probate also to Mrs Elizabeth Thompson relict
So writes a correspondent of the Liverpool Post.
I was proceeding leisurely on foot to Broadgreen, [he proceeds] when, on passing the church at Knotty Ash, my attention was suddenly arrested by the strange and uncanny appearances of its graveyards. The time would then be shortly, after midnight. The whole burying ground seemed alive and glistening with a thousand small bluish lights, which appeared to creep in and out of the different graves, as if the departed spirits were taking a midnight ramble. I stood petrified, not knowing what to make of it, at the same time experiencing a feeling of horror which suddenly took complete possession of me. Just at this moment the moon, which had hitherto been more or less obscured by a moving panorama of passing clouds, came, as it would seem, to my assistance, giving me for a very short time the benefit of her companionship. And now appeared the most startling phenomenon of all, a phenomenon which caused my hair to stand on end with fright, a cold numbness of horror paralysing me in every limb, for, advancing up the road directly opposite to me, came a funeral train, the coffin borne along with measured tread, covered with an immense black pall, which fluttered up in the midnight wind.
At first I thought I must surely be dreaming, and therefore pinched myself in the arm to ascertain if this were really the case. But no, I certainly was not, for I distinctly felt the nip, and was therefore satisfied as to my wakefulness. “What could it all mean?” I asked myself as the cortege gradually approached me, and I began to distinguish the general outlines of the bearers. These appeared to be elderly men and to have lived in a bygone age. All were dressed in the costume of the latter part of the 18th century. They wore tie wigs, and some had swords, as well as walking sticks, mounted with death’s heads. 1 observed only one really young man among the crowd of followers, walking just behind the coffin. His youth, in comparison with the others, perhaps made me take especial notice of him. He was dressed in what appeared to be black velvet, the whiteness of his ruffles standing out in marked contrast to the sombre nature of his general attire. He carried a sword, had diamond buckles in his shoes, and wore his powdered hair in a queue. The face of this young man was deathly pale, as were also the faces of all the others accompanying him. Instead of the procession advancing to the gate at which I stood, it turned suddenly and entered the burial ground by the one situated at a few yards’ distance. As the coffin was borne through this gate all the blue spirit lights seemed to rise from the graves as if to meet the cortege for the purpose of escorting the body to its last resting place, these awful lights added considerably to the ghastliness of the scene as they floated over the coffin and heads of the mourners. Slowly the procession glided up the pathway, passing the main entrance of the church, and, continuing its way in a straight line, finally disappeared at the back of the edifice. Where this most extraordinary funeral went to or what became of it I cannot tell, but this much I distinctly aver, that coffin, mourners, and lights, even the pale, flickering moonlight, all disappeared as mysteriously as they came, leaving me standing in the darkness, transfixed with astonishment and fright. Upon gathering together my somewhat scattered senses, I took to my heels and never stopped running till I found myself safe in my own house. In fact, I scarcely remember how I got home. After recovering a little from the shock I immediately aroused a female relative who had retired for the night, and related to her the above particulars. She assured me that I must have been suffering from mental hallucination, but, seeing the great perturbation of my mind, and at the same time knowing my natural scepticism with regard to all so called supernatural phenomena, she came to the conclusion that, after all, I might possibly have seen what has been described above.
The next day I made inquiries at the neighbourhood of Knotty Ash, and ascertained from a very old woman that she remembered a story in her youth having reference to the mysterious and sudden death of an old occupant of Thingwall Hall, who was hastily and quietly buried, she thought, at midnight, in old Knotty Ash churchyard. If so, was this a ghastly repetition of the event got up for my especial benefit, or was it a portent intended to foreshadow the coming of the Dread Visitor to myself? Now, as I have before stated, I am no believer in ghosts, but certainly this very remarkable experience of mine has entirely upset all my previously conceived notions of the subject, leaving me in a quandary of doubt. On the evening upon which I saw the mysterious midnight funeral at Knotty Ash I was exceedingly wide awake, had met several cyclists on the Prescott road, with whom I conversed, and had likewise refreshed myself at the public drinking fountain placed at the top of Thomas lane. Strange that a few hundred yards farther down the road I should encounter so ghostly an experience, one I shall never forget to my dying day.
THINGWALL HALL
A legend connected with the house which J. Hoult, author of
a book entitled "West Derby and Old Swan - Historical and Topographical",
published in 1909, heard on two separate occasions.
An occupier of the Hall died whilst insolvent, and as the custom was in the tenth century the creditors tried to seize the body for the purpose The relatives of the corpse, however, took the body, buried it at midnight, and so thwarted the creditors.
Thomas Crowther lived here in 1824 and at this time the hall was known as Summerhill. Thomas Case Mayor of Liverpool in 1817 lived there for a time. In 1845 the property was purchased from the executors of Thomas Case by Samuel Thompson. It descended through the Thompson family, to his son Samuel Henry Thompson and grandson, Henry Yates Thompson before being sold by Annie Thompson to Sir David Radcliffe at the beginning of 1899, who sold the property to a land company in 1903.
Carlisle Journal 02 August 1845
Death, Friday last Thingwall Hall, Thomas Case Esg , JP
Yorkshire Evening Post 20 December 1892
Mr Samuel Thompson of Thingwall Hall, Broadgreen, a well known banker, died on Saturday morning
Yorkshire Evening Post 10 February 1893
Liverpool Millionaire
The will of Mr Samuel Henry Thompson of Thingwall Hall, Broadgreen, formerly of the firm of Arthur Heywood, Sons and Co Liverpool, banker has been proved, personal value £1,133,792, proved by his executors, his sons Henry Yates THOMPSON, [lately proprietor of the Pall Mall Gazette] the Rev Samuel Ashton Thompson YATES, and Richard Heywood Thompson, power being reserved to grant probate also to Mrs Elizabeth Thompson relict