Ghostly Romans

[marsvigilia]

I've never seen alians, ghosts or Romans for that matter, but I once had an interesting conversation with Bugs Bunny. It was 3am and I was driving up the I-5 near Coalinga. Bugs sat on a mountain off slightly to my right. After a few minutes of idle chatter he imparted words of wisdom to me. "Don't sleep while driving at 60 miles per hour. Pull over and take a nap." I always take the advise of Bugs Bunny. He is my spirit guide after all.

[Tasciavanous]

My favorite Roman ghost story was in a book I read years ago (called the restless bones and other stories) it went like this some Italian workmen uncovered a roman grave whilst building a new road the grave contained a skeleton that had been decapitated and its head placed between its feet in the coffin. The remains where taken to the local museum and put on display but with its head reattached. The next morning the museum appeared to have been ransacked with artifacts strewn all over but nothing was missing! This nocturnal activity went on for some months but then another, richer grave was found on the road site this was also taken to the museum and put on display. After the new display had been put in the disruption increased till one morning the curator opened up to find all the weapons from the museum scattered about and the first skeleton back in its coffin with its head once more removed and a gladius blade sticking out of its ribs. The second skeleton was found neatly laid out under an alter of Jupiter that looked as if it had recently been used. after this there have been no more night time disruptions..........

[Arthes]

http://www.derbycity.com/ghosts/ghost-16.html
Many buildings at Chester Green, especially those buildings close to the remains of the excavated Roman encampment, are known to be haunted. One interesting story comes from a lady who lives in a house whose history probably dates back to a time when part of the building was used for storage by the Romans,
Although the ghost has not made a personal appearance he, or she, has manifested themselves in other ways. The ghost frequently clears away household rubbish, closes opened curtains in the living room, and has been known on several occasions to wash dirty crockery, much to the appreciation of the owner.
Another instance, seemingly more frightening, is the appearance of a spectre which is said to resemble a Roman centurion. One Derby man claims to have seen this figure one dark, foggy winter's evening whilst walking home from work. "The ghost," I was informed, 'Just glared at me with very large eyes."
This gentleman went on to state that he had not waited about to question the apparition but had hurried home to the waiting comfort of his front room and a stiff drink.
Other ghosts have been seen in the area, including a whole regiment of Roman soldiers, seen and heard marching one night near the River Derwent. The apparition of a ghostly child with snow-white hair has been observed near the site of a Roman well.
One lady who has lived in the area for many years claims that the area of Little Chester has always had the reputation of being haunted by sinister things. This lady also claims that since excavations have been carried out in the area in 1978, even more ghosts have been seen.
She further stated that the excavations has disturbed spirits which would of been best left untroubled, in what should of been their final resting places.

http://www.parascience.org.uk/misc/ghost/chester.htm
Chester was founded by the Romans during the 1st century AD as a military fortress, so it's hardly surprising that it has some well known Roman ghosts.
One is the ghost of a legionary who paces between the amphitheatre and the foundations of a tower which once stood beside the Newgate. One wonders whether he'll be doing more than pacing with the prospect of the other half of the amphitheatre being built over.
This is a particularly interesting ghost, as usually successive witnesses of apparitions describe the ghost as being progressively fainter, so you might have a witness in the 1700's describing a ghost in detail, whereas by the late 1900's, witnesses are describing a vague grey shape.
This particular ghost is still so clear that he has been identified as a Decurion, an officer in command of 10 men, of the 11th Legion Adiutrix. The story behind this ghost describes how the Decurion was in love with a local Celtic girl.
Whenever he was on duty he would leave his men on guard and slip out of a small gate to meet his sweetheart. Unfortunately, the girl's family saw an opportunity in the situation. One night when the Decurion slipped out of the gate,
he was pounced on by a gang of Celtic warriors and bound and gagged. The Celts crept in through the gate, killed the sentries and grabbed as much loot as they could. The Decurion managed to break free and ran to raise the alarm, but was killed by one of the Celts.
Ever since, he has paced the same route without rest.

I feel sorry for him...

[Robert Vermaat]

What color tunics are they wearing.. :twisted:

[Praefectusclassis]

What color tunics are they wearing..

They're ghosts, so they of course wear white! Duuuh!

[Robert Vermaat]

Sure, but if they're blooded apparitions, surely they wear red?
Or brown from rattling their rusted chains for millennia? 8)
I bet that 'prancing decurion' could do with a wash-up....

[Tarbicus]

They're ghosts, so they of course wear white! Duuuh! Very Happy

My turn to go "Oomph!" :wink:


Pliny the Younger's ghost story:
____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time there was a remarkable house in Athens. It was large and stately, but had a reputation for being unhealthy. Each night its residents would hear the clanking of chains. The noise would sound first in the distance but grow ever closer. After a while, a dirty old man would appear, emaciated, dishevelled, and unshaven. If you looked at his hands or feet you'd see the source of all the clamor -- they were in shackles.

The residents didn't sleep very well. Some even died from fear. Eventually the house was empty.

Finally, deserted, it remained quiet. When it was put up for sale no one was interested.

Then one day Athenodorus, the philosopher, came to town. He saw the FOR SALE sign on the house, learned the asking price, and asked a great many other questions.

No one held back on the horrific details, but still the philosopher decided to go ahead and buy the place.

That very evening, his first in the house, Athenodorus took a torch, stylus, and writing tablet to the front of his house. He let the slaves off for the night. Then he determined to keep himself busy writing because, he thought, an idle mind is the devil's playground.

At first, all was still. Then from afar came the rattling of chains. Stoically, Athenodorus didn't even bat an eye, but kept on writing. The sounds grew closer and closer.

Soon they were in the cottage....

Then they were in his very room....

At this Athenodorus laid down his stylus and looked up. There was the ghost. It beckoned him with a finger, but Athenodorus just took up his stylus again. When the philosopher heard the chains rattling above his head, he picked up his torch.

Slowly the ghost ambled to the door with Athenodorus close behind. As it reached an open area in the house, the ghost disappeared. Athenodorus grabbed a handy nearby clump of grass and placed it on the spot where the ghost had vanished.

The next day, Athenodorus called the magistrate. In his official capacity, he dug up the spot that had been marked. There they found chains and inside the chains, the bones of a man.

The magistrate gathered the bones for a proper burial. Never was the ghost heard from again.

[Arthes]

From: http://www.aspects.net/~softbus/gtra/hist.htm
Great Tey has been inhabited for several thousand years.
In and around the village have been discovered remains of iron age farms, one of the largest Roman Villas in England,

Location: Brook Road, coming up the hill towards the village
The soldier is described as being in armour, but there's no mention of any weapons. He also seems to be walking on an older, lower surface - he's visible only from the knees up. (I love the graphic... :lol: lol)

As mentioned above, we have the remains of a Roman Villa on the outskirts of the village - and no doubt our Soldier had some connection with it. Here's an account of one witness' experience (name withheld at his request) :
"I was about ten years old and walking along the causeway one night (circa 1936) to the barn & found a group of villagers at the ford (where the Roman River goes under the road now) closest to Tey, saying they could hear marching/metalic noises on the meadow across the road from the barn. While it was unkown at the time - it was coming from the Roman Villa site (discovered some 50 years later)."

[Tasciavanous]

Ah ha

After a while, a dirty old man would appear, emaciated, dishevelled, and unshaven. If you looked at his hands or feet you'd see the source of all the clamor -- they were in shackles.

So is this were the image of ghostly apparitions dragging chains around comes from? It seems to be such a common archetype (almost Jungian?)
I had always wondered were it started could we have Pliny Jr to thank? in fact any one know of an older story with manacled specters?

[Arthes]

This is from Legends of The Rhine
[url:hdnwuszt]http://www.kellscraft.com/LegendsRhine/legendsrhine086.html[/url]

The Roman Ghosts

Before the gates of the old Roman town of Bonn rises a mountain of moderate height, called Kreuzberg, or "Crossmountain."

In early mediaeval times pious pilgrims went to this sacred place, in order to kneel on the holy steps of the old convent church so rich in memories of the martyrs, or to pray in the chapel. On the same spot at the beginning of the fourth century, the great saints of the Theban legion, Cassius, and his companions Florentius and Melusius, died for the Christian faith.

These martyrs were the guardian saints of the country round Bonn. Many a prayer sent up to them had graciously been fulfilled, since the time when St. Helena, the pious mother of Constantine, erected a chapel to their honour on Kreuzberg.

Once upon a time a simple peasant from the neighbouring country went on a pilgrimage to St. Cassius' burial place.

He came to ask the kind martyr for assistance in his distress. Dransdorf was his village, formerly called Trajan's village, because the general, who later on became Emperor Trajan, is said to have had a villa there.

A bad harvest had brought troubles on the peasant, but he firmly believed that through the intercession of St. Cassius he would receive money enough in one way or another to enable him to pay his many debts.

On arriving at Kreuzberg, he began his religious exercises by confessing his sins to one of the monks belonging to the order of St. Francis. Then according to custom he knelt in succession on one sacred step after the other till he reached the chapel. His wife had carefully put a candle in his pocket which he now lighted before the image of St. Cassius. Having thus fulfilled all the duties prescribed by the church, he turned homewards, well content with himself.

When he crossed the principal square of the town, where already at that time the magnificent Minster stood, he entered this church to pray once more, and to put another coin into the poor-box.

Twilight was creeping through the aisles, and a pilgrimage being not at all an easy thing, our peasant soon fell asleep over his prayer-book.

He only awoke, when somebody pulled him by his sleeve. It was the sexton with a big bunch of keys.

At first the peasant gazed drowsily at the unwelcome intruder, then with astonished eyes he looked round about him, until at last it dawned upon him, that he must get up and leave the church. Rousing himself he made the sign of the cross, and left the Minster with tottering steps. The night winds rustled in the old lime-trees of the square and seemed to whisper strange tales into the ears of the late wanderer.

The peasant crossed the open space sulkily, and steered his way towards the Sternthor, which led to Dransdorf. An ancient Roman tower, the remains of the high fortifications erected by the soldiers of Drusus eighteen hundred years ago, stands in the narrow lane, leading from the minster-square to the Sternthor. To the tired wanderer this tower seemed a splendid shelter, all the more so, as it would not cost him a penny.

He ,entered it, and tired out with the weary day, he was soon fast asleep as if he had never been stirred up from the bench in the Minster. No sexton with noisy keys was to be feared, and yet in his sleep the countryman had the sensation of somebody tapping him on the shoulder. He sat up and looked round. To his amazement he beheld a magnificent warrior standing before him, Clad in a coat of mail with a Roman helmet on his head. Two companions in similar array stood by his side.

They nodded genially down to him, and it struck him that he had already seen them somewhere else. After some moments he remembered the pictures of St. Cassius and his friends in the chapel on Kreuzberg. There was no doubt the three holy martyrs stood in person before him.

Our good peasant was so much awed at this discovery that he could not utter a word, but on a sign from his mysterious visitors, he followed them at a respectful distance.

They marched towards the Sternthor, straight into the building, the walls of which, were as thick as the rooms were long in the peasant's humble little cottage. In the middle of a high vault there was a table covered with sparkling gold.

At this unusual sight the peasant opened his eyes very widely indeed; but his astonishment changed into keen delight when one of his ghostly visitors filled his left pocket and another his right with the glittering metal. Meanwhile the third man took a tumbler from the middle of the table, and presented it to him with an encouraging smile.

He thought their language was very much like that which the vicar of the village church used in reading the service. Though the simple man could not understand a word of their conversation, he interpreted the kind invitation quite correctly, and shouting out a merry, "Vivat!" as a salute to his hosts, he emptied the tumbler at one big draught.

The whole building resounded with the echo, "Vivat!" The three warriors looked pleased and answered in a cheerful voice, "Vivat, Vivat!"

All at once it seemed to the peasant as if the vault was filled with a multitude of Roman soldiers who all called out to him, "Vivat!" as if happy to hear a sound of their native language in the country of the north.

The man from Dransdorf became quite high-spirited, and kept on shouting, "Vivat, Vivat!" Suddenly startled by the noise he made, he awoke and found himself lying on the floor of the Roman tower in the Sterngasse.

The events of the night only seemed to him like a strange dream. But when he felt in his pockets he found them stuffed with real golden coins of a strange ancient stamp.

Our friend's joy became quite uproarious.

After having sent up a heartfelt thanksgiving to St. Cassius, he gave vent to his delight by shouting through the quiet streets at the top of his voice, "Vivat, Vivat!"

A watchman stood on duty by the Sternthor, when the jocund peasant passed by. He made a step forward and, reaching out his arm, he gave the merry man a rude knock with his lance. Unmindful of this rough admonition, the peasant related the event in the Roman tower to the watchman, and finished his story by inviting the stern man of duty to an early draught at the nearest inn.

Rumours of the wonderful events spread far and wide, and soon every town and village knew the tale. The small lane leading from the Minstersquare to the Sternthor was called "Vivat" lane, and bears that name to the present day.

Some years ago a heavy winter gale destroyed the old Roman tower that had so long withstood the vicissitudes of time. The people of Bonn however did not wish to obliterate the memory of this curious story, and therefore named the street running parallel with "Vivat" lane – "Cassius Graben."

[Arthes]

Greetings

Ah ha

After a while, a dirty old man would appear, emaciated, dishevelled, and unshaven. If you looked at his hands or feet you'd see the source of all the clamor -- they were in shackles.

So is this were the image of ghostly apparitions dragging chains around comes from? It seems to be such a common archetype (almost Jungian?)
I had always wondered were it started could we have Pliny Jr to thank? in fact any one know of an older story with manacled specters?

Well, aside from my original mental image of this ghost in an raincoat... :? It seems this tale could be the earliest actually written down, that was in 1AD.
it is written on one site [url:2lupzl9z]http://www.grimghosts.com/rare/text/athenodorus.htm[/url]
This story may be responsible for the stereotype that ghosts carry chains, as well as the visual appearance of Bob Marley in Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol.
Bob Marley.... hock: I wonder what he was singing..!
Regards
Arthes

[Uwe Bahr]

Salvete,

although it is not ghost story, I can add the legend of the Roman soldier Silvius Brabo who killed a giant that sat at the river Schelde and forced the passing ships for paying tolls to him. Brabo cut off the hand of the giant and threw it into the river. At the place where this happened (hand = hand; to throw = werpen) then was founded the city of Antwerpen. A typical example for benediction-rich activities of the ancient Romans.

[url:25nbybmn]http://www.trabel.com/antwerp/antwerp-grotemarkt.htm[/url]

Just a thought: maybe the name 'Brabant' derived from this legendary man?

Greets - Uwe

[hansvl]

Hi Uwe,

Just a thought: maybe the name 'Brabant' derived from this legendary man?

Well, that's what a 15th century chronicle also claims, but Brabant (part of the Low Countries in the Middle-Ages, now divided into three parts: Vlaams-Brabant and Waals-Brabant in Belgium and Noord-Brabant in the Netherlands) has its name derived from the pagus Bracba(n)tensis (origin: 7th century), which consisted of 4 counties, in the west of what in the 11th century became Brabant.
More information here:

[url:n1iu9nah]http://www.mijnwoordenboek.nl/encyclopedie/NL/Hertogdom_Brabant[/url]

And this concludes today's history class :wink:

Greets,

Hans

[Arthes]

Not far from Chester's Northgate arch is the George and Dragon pub. This imposing Victorian black and white building is haunted by the spirits of long-dead Roman soldiers.
The pub occupies a site straddling the old Roman road, or via decumana, leading out from the porta decumana, the north gate of the fortress.
Roman military law forbade the burial of the dead within the precincts of a town, fortress or other settlement, except in a real emergency. Because of this, tombs were often located along the roads leading from a settlement and furnished with sculptured stones to the departed's memory. (Interestingly, many of the carved and sculpted memorial stones were reused by the Romans when they refortified the north wall of the fortress and can now be seen on display in Chester's superb Grosvenor Museum).
The George and Dragon stands on one such site. Over the centuries, both landlords and regulars of the pub have heard the drum of marching feet beneath the floors. Footsteps can be heard marching through the building, passing through the front and back walls of the pub - following the route of the old Roman road. Nothing has ever been seen of this ghost, only the sound of the strange footsteps.
Strangely, the sound seems loudest in the cellars, closer to the original Roman ground level, which once stood several feet below the modern surface.

[Tasciavanous]

Well well
I personally went drinking in this pub during the Chester Roman festival last year!

Over the centuries, both landlords and regulars of the pub have heard the drum of marching feet beneath the floors.

The cheeky blighters never mentioned the Roman marching to me and I was still in kit.
Ho hum I'll have to ask around if I go to Chester next year.