Death...The Last Sleep?

On Edisto Island in South Carolina, there is a Presbyterian church dressed in white. I visited this church on a lovely February afternoon earlier this year. The sky was clear and filled with sunshine, causing the brilliant white to almost sparkle against the blue.

This Greek Revival church, listed on the National Register of Historic Places, was constructed in 1830 on the same site where two other churches once stood. The congregation dates back over 400 years, having been established in 1685.

Behind the church lies the graveyard, with its intricate iron fences covered in white and green lichens. They wind along the ground, forming plots and pathways around the stones. This graveyard, dating back to 1782, is also listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

As with any cemetery or graveyard, the gravestones vary from flat markers and upright stones to slanted ones and even some obelisks. There are both simple designs and those featuring intricate carvings. Both children and adults are buried here.

The older stones are mostly located at the back, while the side of the church features memorials from a more contemporary period.

My goal for the day was to locate the Legare family's mausoleum. It is a reddish-brown structure, standing alone and appearing out of place among the grey and green surroundings. It seems as if it could have come from anywhere.

Here begins the story of Julia Legare, a 22-year-old woman who met a tragic end on Edisto Island. Numerous versions of her tale exist, and this is just one of them.

The year was 1852, and in April, Julia was visiting her family on Edisto Island. She was the young wife of John Berwick Legare, a wealthy planter from South Carolina, and mother to a four-year-old son, Hugh Swinton Legare. During her visit, Julia suddenly fell ill, possibly with diphtheria. After several days, she slipped into a deep coma.

Medical science was far less advanced than it is today, being quite rudimentary. When the doctor attending to Julia failed to detect breathing or a heartbeat, she was declared dead.

Similar to the limited tools available for medical diagnosis, there were no embalming techniques to preserve a body. Due to rapid decomposition, waiting for viewings or ceremonies was not an option. Consequently, shortly after being pronounced dead, Julia was dressed for burial and placed in the Legare family mausoleum behind the Presbyterian church. The heavy door was sealed, a final signal that Julia was indeed gone.

Or was she?

Dead or in a coma? In the 1800s, sometimes it was impossible to tell even if you were a doctor.

During this era, there was a widespread fear of being buried alive. To address this concern, an invention was patented that included placing a bell outside the grave as a precautionary measure. A rope extended from the bell down to the coffin where the deceased rested. If they were still alive, they could pull the rope, ringing the bell to alert anyone nearby.

Poor Julia. There was no bell on that fateful day she awoke in the darkness.

Two years later, her son Hugh passed away and would also be laid to rest in the Legare family mausoleum.

When the door was opened, the family discovered Julia's remains collapsed at the entrance. To their horror, they realized that Julia had been buried alive.

Overwhelmed with grief, they placed Julia back in her coffin, laid young Hugh inside, and sealed the door again.

A few days later, family members visited the graveyard and found the mausoleum door open. Since nothing seemed disturbed, they closed it again.

Over time, the door was repeatedly found open, with no explanation. Eventually, it was removed altogether.

Many still wonder if this was the restless spirit of Julia Legare escaping the tomb that imprisoned her in life.

In the photograph of the interior, you can see that believers have established an "altar" in Julia's memory, adorned with various trinkets left as gifts. The memorials on the back wall are dedicated to Julia (center), Hugh (right), and Julia's husband, John (left), who passed away four years after her.

I finally gathered enough courage to step inside. The interior is somewhat darker than it appears here, even on a sunny day.

I didn't remain for long. After some time, it began to feel a bit "crowded".

Perhaps I wasn't alone? Could it have been the spirit of Julia Legare reaching out from beyond? Reaching out to me?

We may never know. I suppose it depends on how much you believe in this tale. Anything is possible. As for me, I'll keep an open mind. And you?

---

Christine Shephard is a photographer, writer, and avid taphophile. She makes her home in Central New York.

Images captured by Christine Shephard Photographic Design and the written content cannot be utilized in any other format or publication without explicit permission.

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

https://haints.org/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/