On Edisto Island in South Carolina stands the white-clad Presbyterian church. I visited this church on a beautiful February afternoon earlier this year. The sky was clear and full of sunshine that day, making the brilliant white almost sparkle against the blue.
Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, this Greek Revival church was built in 1830 on the same ground where two other churches previously stood. The congregation itself goes back over 400 years with its establishment in 1685.
Behind the church is the graveyard with its lacy iron fences covered in white and green lichens. They weave their way along the ground creating plots and pathways around the stones. This graveyard dates back to 1782 and is also on the National Register of Historic Places.
Like any cemetery or graveyard, the gravestones range from flat markers and uprights to the slanted as well as some obelisks. There are simple designs and those with ornate carvings. A mix of children and adults are interred here.
Most of the older stones are in the back, while the side of the church contains memorials from a more modern era.
My purpose for this day was to find the mausoleum of the Legare family. It turned out to be a not-so-difficult task as there is only one mausoleum on the property. Reddish brown in color, standing by itself, out of place amid the grey and green. It looks like it just dropped in from somewhere. Anywhere.
Here I'll begin the tale of Julia Legare, a young woman of 22 who met her sad fate on Edisto Island. There are many versions of her story. This is just one of them.
It was 1852, and in April of that year, Julia was visiting her family on Edisto Island. She was the young wife of a wealthy South Carolina planter named John Berwick Legare, and mother to a four-year-old son, Hugh Swinton Legare. During this visit, Julia was suddenly taken ill with what might have been diphtheria. Days passed and she lapsed into a deep coma.
Medical science was nowhere near what it is today. It was very primitive, to say the least. When the doctor who was attending Julia could not detect breath or a heartbeat, she was pronounced dead.
Just like the spare tools of a medical diagnosis, there were no methods of embalming to preserve a body. One could not wait for any viewings or ceremonies because of rapid decomposition. This being the case, soon after the pronouncement of her death, Julia was dressed for burial and placed in the Legare family mausoleum behind the Presbyterian church. The heavy door was sealed and all that remained of Julia was a memory.
Or, was it?
Dead or in a coma? Sometimes it was impossible to tell even if you were a doctor in the 1800s.
During this period of time, people were fearful of being buried alive. So much so, there was a patented invention that involved placing a bell outside of the grave as a security measure. A rope would run down to the coffin where the deceased lay. With the rope in their hands, they would be able to pull it and ring the bell should they wake up, notifying anyone nearby that a resident of the burial site was alive.
Poor Julia. There was no bell on that fateful day she awoke in the darkness.
Two years later, her son Hugh passed away. His place of internment would also be the Legare family mausoleum.
When the door was opened, the family found what remained of Julia's body crumpled in the entrance. With great horror, they realized that Julia had been buried alive.
Deep in grief, they once again placed Julia in her coffin. They settled young Hugh inside and sealed the door once more.
A few days later, family members came to the graveyard only to find the mausoleum door open. Nothing seemed to be disturbed so they closed the door again.
As time passed, the door was always found open, and no one could explain why. Eventually, the door was removed altogether.
Many wonder to this day if this was the restless spirit of Julia Legare escaping the tomb that held her prisoner when she was alive.
As you can see from the photograph of the interior, believers have set up an "altar" in Julia's memory. There is a wide assortment of trinkets left as gifts.
The memorials on the back wall are of Julia (center), Hugh (right), and Julia's husband, John (left) who died four years after she did.
I finally worked up enough courage to walk inside. The interior is a little darker than what you see here, even on a sunny day.
I didn't stay long. After a while, it started to feel a little "crowded".
While it's true this isn't a large mausoleum, maybe I wasn't the only one there. Could it have been the soul of Julia Legare reaching out from beyond? Reaching out to me?
We may never know. I guess it depends on how much you believe in this story. Anything is possible. As for me, I'll keep an open mind. And you?
References
The Presbyterian Church on Edisto Island History - pcedisto.org
The Horror of Being Buried Alive: Julia Legare - lorethrill.com
Find A Grave Julia Georgianna Seabrook Legare - https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/65651815/julia-georgiana-legare
The Legend of Julia Legare - Edisto Beach - https://www.edistobeach.com
True Tales of Southern Haints - The Story of the Haunted Mausoleum of J.B. Legare on Edisto Island
Smithsonian Magazine - https://www.smithsonianmag.com/sponsored/people-feared-being-buried-alive-so-much-they-invented-these-special-safety-coffins-180970627/
@ 2022 Christine Shephard Photography
No portion of this article or copyrighted photos may be used without express written consent from Christine Shephard Photography.
Absolutely fascinating! Sign me up for that bell. I love memento Mori and I'm Incredibly fond of this author. Can't wait till the next post.