Back to Main Haunted Hotels Page
70775
225-635-6277
One of the oldest plantation houses in the Deep South, the Myrtles is a long arcaded building serene behind its shutters and its decorative wrought-iron work.
St. Francisville, on the Mississippi, is often spoken of as being "in English Louisiana". And, indeed, this pretty settlement does seem frozen in time, with an air of having scarcely progressed beyond the turn of the century.
By then, of course, the Myrtles was already "old family". The plantation itself was founded in the late 18th century by General David Bradford. The building, many of its beautiful contents, and its grove of 150 majestic live oaks have survived the rigors of the Civil War, the ravages of the depression and the invasion of "new money".
Today it is in the safe hands of John and Teeta Moss, who offer guests the gracious living of yesteryear among the grand furnishings of this very stately mansion. The nine guest rooms are richly furnished with mantels of marble from Carrara; ornate ormolu cabinets and mirrors; and furniture heavy in gold leaf or faux-bois. Walls and ceilings boast ornate plasterwork and are hung with aubusson tapestries. Guests dine under Baccarat chandeliers and take their coffee and afterdinner drinks on the Long Gallery, framed in lacy ironwork typical of the Spanish influences of the area and at its best in nearby New Orleans. St. Francisville stands beside Ol' Man River. And only a short cruise - or cruise - away are the big city attractions of Baton Rouge and New Orleans.
The ghost at the Myrtles Plantation is more a gaggle of ghouls - none of which is in the least bit frightening. At last count, there were 14 of them. The Myrtles makes a good claim to the title of "America's Most Haunted House."
Most of the extraordinary happenings at the Myrtles are well documented and have recurred frequently during the house's 200 year history. Its very location must predispose the building to be haunted. It's built on ground sacred to Native Americans - a Tunica burial site.
Frances Kermeen, owner since around 1980, had just moved in when she heard voices calling softly and insistently for "Sarah". Alone in the house, Kermeen checked all the rooms, but there was no trace of anyone. Later she discovered that two Sarahs had lived in the house in the early 1800s.
Might these Sarahs be the two blonde girls in white dresses who are sometimes glimpsed floating down the plantation house's long hallways? Or are the faint figures those of the two daughters of Judge Clarke Woodruffe, son-in-law to General Bradford, who were poisoned by the Myrtle's most famous ghost, Chloe?
Chloe was the girls' mammy. And she had an insatiable curiosity. She just had to know what the family was talking about behind closed doors. One day the judge caught her listening in to a somewhat shady business deal. A hot-tempered man, he meted out a macabre, immediate punishment. He sliced off Chloe's ear. Chloe planned a dreadful revenge. On the little girls' birthday she baked a cake, decorating it prettily with a lethal frosting. The children died in agony. This time Chloe's punishment came from her fellow slaves. She was seized and hanged from one of the great live oaks beside the house. Her body was then flung in the Mississippi.
But Chloe still listens at doors in the Myrtles, Kermeen has heard and seen her; a young woman wearing a green kerchief pulled low on one side of her head. Chloe even bent over her bed one night - just as she did to a pair of honeymooners staying in the house in the early 1980s. The bride was so alarmed that the couple checked out then and there. Perhaps it is Chloe tidying up who resets the heating thermostats and switches lights off and on. Or are these pranks the work of one of the other ghosts in the house, who all seem to go through their paces several times a week?
There are often noises of children laughing at play, and of others crying pitifully, when none are in the house. Guests staying in the house during May and June might encounter a young, badly wounded Confederate soldier in one of the bedrooms, He seems to be having a leg wound dressed by unseen hands. Three Union soldiers are also in residence. It is known that they were shot in a skirmish on the property. Then there is a "grump" (says Kermeen) who occasionally hurls a clock or a candlestick across the drawing room. The "youngest" ghost seems to be that of an overseer, stabbed in a robbery at the house in 1927. There is also a slender young man in a fancy vest who was stabbed in the house over a gambling debt. A dramatic scenario is reenacted regularly, too, when the figure of a frock-coated man is seen to stagger backward from the front door as if shot, and reel up the stairs before collapsing on the 17th stair to die. Look closely as you go up, and you can see a dark discoloration in the polished wood, an ancient bloodstain that no amount of work can remove.
But the last remaining "ghost" is actually a jolly and lively happening. When everyone in the house is tucked into bed, and the building is shuttered and silent for the night, there is a sudden burst of music, laughter and the clink of glasses. There is a ball in progress at the big house.
(Garden room; not available during March or October)
| RATES | ||
| Garden Room | $115 | |
| Room with shower | $175 | |
| Room with private bath | $200 | |
| Suite | $230 | |
|
||