The Search for Bridey Murphy (31 page)

An Irish commission on folklore was asked whether there had been, as Bridey described, an Irish custom of having a dance when a couple was married “… just an Irish jig thing; you dance and” they put money in your pockets…” The commission answered, “Holding of a dance on the occasion of a wedding was common practice. As regards money, a silver coin slipped into the pocket was a good-luck charm.”

In nineteenth-century Cork it was common practice, as Bridey signified, to keep personal records in the Bible—births, marriages, deaths. Thatched roofs were common in Cork at that time. Galway was a port. There had been, in Bridey’s time, a large rope company and a large tobacco company in Belfast. And her use of the words “banshee” and “tup” was correct.

The investigators state that there was a song—more than one —entitled “Sean” and pronounced Shawn (as Bridey indicated in this case). “The Londonderry Air” was very popular in Bridey’s time. And Keats was born in 1795 and could have been read by Bridey, even though, as she complained, “He was a Britisher.”

Her reference to monetary terms was accurate—pound, sixpence, tuppence, and the copper halfpenny.

A prominent Irish literary figure asserted that Bridey’s account of the Cuchulain story was accurate in all details. (“… When he was seven years old, he could slay big men. When he was seventeen, he could hold whole armies.”)

Bridey provided several bits of evidence which did not seem particularly significant at the time but which later, owing to var
ious peculiar twists, took on added weight. She had told us, for instance, that she had read a book entitled
The Green Bay
. thought this of little consequence, because I presumed there would be several books similarly titled in twentieth-century America. To my surprise, however, I have been unable to find even one such title. (The New York Public Library listed
The Green Bay Tree
but not a single
The Green Bay
.) Yet the Irish investigators report that there was such a book—more than one—in nineteenth-century Ireland.

Another example is the matter of Carlingford and Lough Carlingford. Both of these can be found in almost any atlas. But Bridey added a fact that can’t be found in any atlas. In telling us about these places, she had commented that the lough was there before the town had been established. “Lough was there first.” she had said, “and then there was the place.” The researchers in Ireland confirmed her knowledge. (We can’t be sure, however, whether Bridey meant that the village had been established later or that she had approached the lough before the village while traveling from Cork.)

Then there is the matter of Mourne. The Mourne Mountains can be noted on almost any map of Ireland. But Bridey had indicated that there was a
place
called Mourne. Maps and atlases, however, disclose no such place. Yet we are now informed that there actually was such a geographical place.

As for the Blarney-stone matter, Bridey’s account would have been correct for her day: “… you put your feet above your head… and then you get the tongue… the gift of the tongue.” Curiously, the procedure has since been changed. An Irish authority wrote, “The individual was lowered by his legs over the parapet of the old castle tower. The procedure has now been changed, and what happens is that the person wishing to kiss the Blarney stone sits on the stonework inside the parapet where there is a hole in the ground.”

When asked what kinds of crops her family had grown at Cork, Bridey had mentioned hay, flax, corn, and tobacco. While there is nothing notable about this, there is at least an interesting side light. An authority explains that only small quantities of tobacco would have been grown around Cork, and this fact would not likely have been generally known. (A reliable American source,
for instance, reports that tobacco is not listed as one of the crops grown in Cork.)

In regard to Father John and the church, a solicitor of an Irish legal firm employed to check this matter reported, after several months, as follows: “I never received any acknowledgment of my letters to the parish priest of St. Theresa’s Church.”

Both the Belfast ‘
News-Letter
and Queen’s University were in existence in Bridey’s time, and both are still there. But as this is written, there has not yet been a search to determine whether the Belfast ‘
News-Letter
has any record of Brian—or whether the university has records of William McGlone, Fitzhugh, or Fitzmaurice.

There was more than one instance when experts and authorities disagreed with Bridey’s statements, yet it turned out that Bridey had been correct. A case in point developed when Bridey was challenged as a result of her insistence that Brian had taught at Queen’s University. Brian, she had contended, was Roman Catholic. Queen’s University, though, was a Protestant institution. That a Catholic could have taught at this particular school, therefore, seemed inconceivable to at least one authority, who promptly registered his objection. But research disclosed that instructors and students were not barred on the basis of religion. The authority was wrong; Bridey was right.

Two Irish authorities maintained that, while Bridey’s remarks about the Deirdre story were essentially accurate, the king involved in this tale was the King of Ulster, not Scotland. (Bridey had said, “She was… beautiful girl, and she was going to marry… this king… this King of Scotland… and she didn’t love him… and this boy came and saved her.”) It is true that Deirdre was to become the bride of the King of Ulster, who figures prominently in all versions of the story. It is also true that most accounts, including the two best-known works on the Deirdre legend.

(W. B. Yeats’s
Deirdre
and J. M. Synge’s
Sorrows of Deirdre
), contain no mention of the Scottish King. But another researcher found that there definitely were at least two other versions (one based on the Glenn Masain manuscript in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh and the other on a translation by Theophilos O’Flanagan) which included the additional episode with the King of Scotland, who had heard a description of Deirdre’s beauty and had then sought her as a wife for himself.

Objection was also made to Bridey’s use of the word “slip.” It was contended that this word was anachronistic, that if she had used “petticoat” it would have been more in keeping with the times. Further checking, however, proved that “slip” is an old and honored word and that one of its old-fashioned usages was as a name for “a child’s pinafore or frock,” undoubtedly the meaning in this case. (Refer to her description in the sixth tape—”… they had wide sashes”).

Bridey’s reference to the uncle who married “the Orange” came in for criticism too. Several persons felt certain that she would have said “Orangeman” instead of “Orange.” Here again, however, research supported Bridey. The term “Orange” applied to the ultra-Protestant party in Ireland, in reference to the secret society of Orangemen formed in 1795. And an individual member of the party, especially a female, could have been referred to as “an Orange.”

Then there was the word “linen.” After she had suddenly sneezed during the fourth session, Bridey had asked for “a linen.” She was obviously referring to a handkerchief, but there is apparently no such usage in Ireland today. Once again, though, it was found that one of the meanings of the word “linen”—a meaning now
obsolete in the singular
—was something made of linen such as a linen garment or handkerchief.

A noteworthy fact developed from the very odd name of Brian’s uncle, the uncle “that married the Orange.” Bridey had said his name was Plazz. On this point an Irish investigator reported: “Plazz. This is genuine all right and throws a sense of authenticity about the whole thing. It is the very, very rare Christian name Blaize, called after the Irish Saint Blaize, patron of those afflicted with disease of the throat.” This researcher made it clear that Plazz was the popularized, phonetic spelling of the Christian name Blaize.

I had been unable to find anyone who had even heard of such a name, so it is hard to understand how Ruth Simmons (who had been raised from infancy by a Norwegian uncle and a German- Scotch-Irish aunt) could have been familiar with it.

The Plazz incident is also representative of another type of authentication found throughout Bridey’s testimony. When she was asked, for example, the name of Brian’s uncle, she does not make a perfunctory, laconic reply—the kind of mechanical answer
that would mark the testimony of one who is either making up or repeating a story. Instead, there is an obvious association of ideas as with one who is reflecting upon actual experiences and personal memories: “You mean his uncle that married the Orange?” she asks.

The same question also reminds her that Brian’s father had been upset when the uncle had “married an Orange.” And this, in turn, moves her to recall, “He wasn’t upset when he married
me.
” All this from merely asking the name of Brian’s uncle. And the tapes are fraught with similar examples.

Undoubtedly additional evidence will continue to develop after this goes to print. Indeed, it may even be possible that some of the book’s readers will be able to contribute pertinent information.

I think it only reasonable to expect that some of Bridey’s memoirs are colored, that some are in error, and that even key dates might be in error. But this is not an area from which an airtight case should be expected. The whole issue, rather, is whether the principles involved here merit more intensive consideration.

The Bridey Murphy experiment, after all, was merely a personal exploration. I am hoping, however, that many more professional people—trained experimenters, doctors, psychologists—will launch their own research programs. Perhaps even one or more of the nation’s leading foundations will become interested. Certainly the stakes involved are high enough.

As Pope said, the proper study of mankind is Man.

Mine has been the trail of a skeptic, a path first glimpsed when I looked away from business and the latest stock quotations long enough to learn that the wonders of hypnosis are realities, not nonsense. The trail wound through the psychic phenomena associated with telepathy and clairvoyance, then it crossed the work of Edgar Cayce, and finally veered smack into Bridey Murphy.

As already indicated, I have been hoping that academic circles would become interested in this work. But the edges of my optimism have already been chipped away, I have been talking to the psychology department of an eastern university, suggesting that they investigate these matters for themselves. But I can see that I’m not getting anywhere.

As Bridey Murphy might have expressed it, “
They won’t listen.
”

There are a few, however, who do somewhat more than listen. Recently, for instance, a doctor heard about my work and called on me. He reminded me that, even though the general public may not be familiar with the Bridey type of experiment, it represents nothing new, nothing really original.

He then proceeded to outline an idea for expanding the Bridey experiment—an idea so fascinating that I can hardly wait to set up the experiment.

It looks as though I’m about to take another step on the long bridge.