The Martha Washington, the house passed into the hands of the Methodist Church upon his death two years later. The church then founded the Martha Washington College for young ladies on its premises.
When the war reached their doorsteps in the mid 1860s, the college doubled as a hospital for the war wounded. One soldier, John Stoves, had been badly wounded and lay dying in what was to become room 403. Beth, a student of the college, tended to him and fell in love. As he passed from this life, she played the violin to ease his pain. Beth herself died a few weeks afterwards from complications of Typhoid Fever. Her music can now be heard faintly caressing the night, playing to her dead lover and sometimes accompanying her solitary visits to the room.
A phantom horse waits for his master outside the front steps, a Union soldier that was shot in front of the house in 1864. On moonless nights, the horse has been seen roaming the grounds searching for his owner and awaiting the call to ride home.
The basement holds the spirits of black slaves, they were kept in an underground chamber and some were buried within its stone walls.
Before being killed by enemy soldiers, a young confederate entered the house and ran up the stairs to warn of encroaching Union troops. Shot upstairs, his blood still stains the floorboards outside the Governor’s Room. A bellhop, who’s been with the establishment for over 30 years, tells that carpets that lay over the area develop holes over the spot where the soldier lay dying. Cold spots, apparitions and self-turning doorknobs have also been reported.
Another ghost is looking for half of his head. Numerous accounts of a soldier hobbling with help from a crutch and leaving a trail of mud in his wake have been reported from a hallway of the Inn. Long past medical help, there is only speculation why he is here at the old hospital, a ball leaving only a hideous mangle of bone and sparse flesh had split his head.
Gracing the southern Virginian colony and commanding a view of the James River, Shirley Plantation began building in 1723 by Edward Hill III for his daughter, Elizabeth. Hill’s sister, Martha, had left for England to study, leaving behind an unsigned portrait of herself. A strong mouth and deep eyes dominated the painting, almost daring one to ignore its presence in the room. Martha later married an Englishman, Hugh Griffith, and remained in England. Though the portrait is known by the family as “Aunt Pratt,” no one seems to know the source of the name Pratt.
In 1858, long after Martha’s death, the family noticed the painting rocking violently against the wall above the mantel in a third story bedroom. Moving the noisy portrait to the attic only intensified its turbulent actions. Knocking was heard around the house and word got out that the plantation was infected with a rather boisterous picture. The Civil War soon surrounded the plantation and the residents of Shirley were caught up in the turmoil of having their home turned into a field hospital as General McClellan transported over 8,000 injured and dying men out of Virginia. With their access to the James River close by, injured men were transferred onto Union ships and the dead were buried in the family cemetery. There is no mention of Pratt’s activity during this time, they probably had more pressing matters to worry about.
After peace ensued, the portrait was taken out of storage in the attic and placed on the first floor in a place of honor for the old gal. Though happy for a while, it soon began its rocking and the hunt was on for someplace that the picture would remain quiet. Finally placing the picture in Martha’s second floor bedroom, it remained relatively quiet for the next few years.
In 1974, the Virginia Travel Council loaned the portrait with other items associated with psychic phenomena to an exhibit at Rockefeller Plaza in New York. Once placed in a display window, the picture began to rock so vigorously that the seal of Virginia, which was placed beside it, began to swing from side to side in front of spectators. Aunt Pratt made her national television debut on NBC-TV as a reporter on his way to lunch stopped by to see what all the ruckus was about and caught the rocking on tape. It caused such a disturbance that it was removed from the exhibit and crated up. The night shift reported hearing crying and rocking in the storage room. One morning it was found on the floor outside the storage locker, some thought she was making a break for the exit…
After being returned to Virginia, the portrait was taken to Linden Galleries in Richmond, Virginia to help repair the damage to the frame. While there, workers would tell of bells ringing, though there were no bells on the property.