WICKLOW’S HISTORIC GAOL – WICKLOW, IRELAND BY MOANER T. LAWRENCE


D


riving through the sleepy town of Wicklow, twenty minutes south of Dublin, one would never guess that it’s home to one of the worst prisons in history – let alone one of


the most haunted places in Ireland. When Wicklow Gaol (pronounced “jail”) opened


in 1702, the warden – or “gaoler” – answered to no governing body and was the corrupt judge, jury and executioner to anyone unlucky enough to end up behind its walls. Popular offenses that could put you there included speaking Gaelic (the only lan- guage some people knew at the time) or stealing food for survival, even during the Great Famine of 1740 when people were starving to death. While under sentence, prisoners and their families were extorted for every fathomable commodity in the gaol, from food – which was only served once every four days – to fresh rope, which ensured efficient hangings. Tortures were frequent and occurred at the whim of the guards. Even after reforms were enacted to better conditions within the institution, it still fell shamefully short of usual prison standards right up until the gaol was closed in 1924. Today, remodelled and open to the public as a


museum offering day tours, night tours (with actors who spook the audience) and more serious expedi- tions led by a team of paranormal researchers, em- ployees of the gaol insist ghosts from the past haunt the grounds. At first sight, the complex’s strong granite ex-


terior appears welcoming and warm. Approximately three feet past the entrance, though, the lobby’s damp chill and bleak lighting quickly correct that misperception.


Guiding the tour are Marie Comerford, who plays


the matron of the museum, and Patrick Mahood, a member of the Wicklow Gaol paranormal team, who also plays the role of infamous gaoler Richard Hoey. As I pass through the cast iron gates that mark the beginning of the tour, Comerford informs me the opening used to be in the front of the prison and that every person imprisoned here passed through “the Gates of Hell.” I’m then led down a narrow stairway into the


gaol’s dungeon. Comerford waves me over toward the doorway to one cell and asks, “How many peo- ple do you think could stay in there?” I guess two. “It would house fifteen,” she replies. Later, I learn that a slightly larger cell, which I thought might have held 30 people, would have housed up to 100 in- mates. To make matters worse, the gaoler didn’t separate the prisoners. A child who stole bread could have wound up sharing a cell with a man ar- rested for murder. In fact, it wasn’t until 1763 that the prison separated men from women, or the sane from the insane. The next stop is an even smaller cell containing


a stone bathtub. In an effort to manage the spread of lice and typhoid fever, prisoners were bathed once a month in cold, filthy water that wasn’t changed. The guards also liked to use it for torture by having someone sit in the freezing tub water for over an hour, causing bouts of hypothermia. Another unit contains a statue of a guard glee- fully raising his whip to a prisoner who’s chained against a wall with his bloody back exposed. Mahood explains, “Flogging was the most common form of punishment. Children would re-


ceive between two and twenty lashes, while adults could receive anywhere up to 200 lashes from a nine-tailed flog, also known as a cat o’ nine tails.” If multiple lesions weren’t enough, an adult would sometimes have his sentence divided so as to ex- tend the torture. “For instance, prisoners could be given 50 lashes and then left in a cell to bleed while rats picked at their wounds,” Mahood continues. “And when their wounds were starting to heal, they’d be dragged back into the cell and given an- other 50, and so forth until they had completed their sentence.” Apparently this practice led to the ex- pression “opening old wounds.” Not counting the dungeon, the gaol consists of 42


cells – fourteen per floor – with each one serving to impart various historical factoids about the facil- ity. Some contain stories of prisoners or display timelines with information about events in world history that affected the gaol. Others offer up colourful trivia, such as the fact that a toilet wasn’t installed until 1843 – 141 years after opening! One highly recommended room displays illustrations of special tortures, known as the “Yeomanry Methods of Torture,” which were rendered during the time of the Irish Rebellion. One of the most unique tortures was allegedly performed exclusively by an English lieutenant named Jack Hepenstall. At seven feet tall, he was regarded as a freak of nature who regularly noosed prisoners and slung them over his back until they were strangled to death. This service earned him the nickname “The Walking Gallows.” Throughout the gaol, impressively creepy life-


sized figures depicting both prisoners and guards take on a zombie-like appearance in the building’s dim light. All of the figures are painted in different shades of grey; each face frozen in some horrible expression of menace, shock or fear. The third floor houses an exhibit about the voyage


of prisoners who were being transported from Ire- land to a penal colony in Australia after the Banish- ment Act of 1716 was passed. Once a chapel, the room is said to be a hot spot for spiritual activity during the night. It is here that the spirit of a min- ister who used to browbeat convicts during ser- mons reportedly manifests to voice his distaste for sharing his territory with the tour guides. Down in the courtyard, what appears to be a


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