Ghostly happenings at Vilhena Palace - Malta

Written by George Attard

“Who was that!?” said Mario as he came into my office at the Mdina Local Council premises. Earlier in the week I had made arrangements to meet Mario on a Saturday morning to discuss some Council business or other. My desk in the office was placed so that the door to my office was to my right when I am seated at my desk. This door I could just see without having to actually look at it when I am busy writing, if you get my drift. To my left and exactly opposite the office door was a short corridor leading to two bath rooms. This corridor was also in my line of vision. What is this all in aid of, you might well ask. Well, just before Mario made an appearance (do excuse the pun given the main thrust of this narrative), I saw out of the corner of my right eye what I took to be dear Mario entering the office, walk past behind my desk and enter the corridor. All this was neatly accomplished without either of us uttering a word.

This silent manoeuvre gave rise to a number of mental observations on my part. First, that Mario was nursing one of his dark moods and was in no state to indulge in any unnecessary small-talk, not even a courteous “Good morning”. Secondly, I distinctly remember feeling a cold shiver down my spine as ‘he’ walked past behind my desk. And thirdly, someone other than Mario had entered the office before Mario did. 

“I thought that was you!” I told Mario as we rushed to check out the corridor and bath rooms which – you’ve guessed correctly – were unoccupied. This is how the story of the ghost/s inhabiting Vilhena Palace started.

Vilhena Palace Interior Landing 

Before moving forward with the narrative I need to fill you in with a few salient details which may or may not be useful; but I am going to give them to you anyway. Firstly, I am terrified of the dark and all that is connected therewith. This is so courtesy of my elder brother (five years older), bless his little cotton socks, who made it a point to terrify the living daylight out of me and my younger brother whenever our parents were away for a couple of hours enjoying their once weekly film outing at the local cinema. Secondly, on a completely different level: I shall put to you only personal experiences and of those who I know personally and who have experienced ‘ghostly’ happenings. And thirdly, there is the Vilhena Palace factor because this piece is as much about this building as it is about its ghosts.

Let’s take Vilhena Palace first, shall we? This palace started really taking the shape it is nowadays, early in the sixteenth century when the Knights of St John realised that leaving the local sulking nobility to their own designs was not exactly good governance. You see losing political clout and influence to the Order was not a situation to celebrate much about. The Order on the other hand being a maritime organization had no choice but to set up camp in the harbour area, far from Mdina. So they (the Order) set about solving the problem by acquiring by fair means or foul a prime piece of real estate and built the first palace which initially was of very modest proportions and which was enough to serve as a sort of listening post. Fast forward some century and a half: the 1693 earthquake devastated large swathes of the ancient capital – Valletta had long since replaced Mdina as Malta’s capital. The Grand Master, the Potuguese, Manual de Vilhena, commissioned the French architect Mondion to rebuild and remodel the areas of Mdina that were in ruins, in the baroque style. Needing more land Vilhena imprisoned the Maltese owner of the land he had his eyes on, on trumped up charges, and confiscated the property. The new palace necessitated moving the main entrance of the town to the west by a few dozen metres – and there you have today’s Vilhena Palace. It was a time when it wouldn’t do to let such niceties as fairness, the rule of law and proper compensation, cramp one’s style. Fast forward another two centuries and in 1898 Vilhena Palace was renamed the Duke of Connought Hospital and inaugurated by the noble duke himself, no less. The hospital acted as a sanatorium for TB patients for the next half a century. The place was closed down and abandoned in 1955 because of serious structural weaknesses in the foundations. The less affected front part was restored in the 1970s and now houses the Museum of Natural History. The part of the older palace which was stable enough was also restored and in 1993 began serving as the Mdina Local Council Chambers. We, the Council, had the use of the old entrance facing the Palazzo Xara Hotel, the lower courtyard, the original staircase and three large and magnificent rooms. This edifice also served for a substantial length of time as the offices of the ancient Universita and its four ‘giurati’ (in effect the HQ of Malta’s governing body) before the arrival of the Order, as well as the island’s court house. My office still carries the proud inscription: ‘Aula Criminalis’ above the doorway! Make whatever fancies you of the obvious temptation this inscription presented, making me the object of a myriad number of caustic remarks made by every man and his dog.

Going back to when the place was a TB hospital, and because tuberculosis was highly contagious and, in those days, largely incurable, mortality rate was high particularly among the young. Funerals took place practically on a daily basis. It would not be an exaggeration to state that the aura of despair, helplessness and finality was palpable. The place carried a huge stigma. Those inhabitants of Mdina who could afford to, left to live in the Sliema and Ta’Xbiex areas. The 1970s and 80s saw the return of the children of those who had left and we experienced a beautiful but regrettably short period when Mdina enjoyed the joyful sounds of the children of these new families. They have since grown-up and moved on and Mdina’s is once again home to an ageing population. 

Vilhena Palace - Mdina 

Abject apologies for being so long winded on this point but I trust you can see where this is taking us. I hope you do. The first and second salient points I mentioned above and which I would not blame you for not recalling what they are, are basically an undertaking that I will only report that which can be corroborated and/or experienced by third parties – or shouldn’t that be second parties? 

So, the events of that fateful Saturday morning were my only experience of that particular ghost of the Palace of Vilhena, namely, a peripheral glimpse, a chilly sensation, a presence. These I can vouch for. Mario was more favoured than me in this respect, as we shall see later on. Thank God! Mario rather than me. I also keep referring to more than one ghost because there were and are others.

Mario and I couldn’t wait to share our extraordinary experience with the rest of the Council and staff. How naïve could one be! Needless to say we became the laughing stock of the whole town. Time was as always a reliable healer and soon the story began to recede from the collective memory. Until one day Mario was to witness the next sighting. The occasion was the end of a Council Meeting one evening and, as we were waiting for the office staff to secure all windows and doors, Mario asked us to wait for him because he needed to visit the bathroom. So, we stood around engaged in small talk. Then, Mario came back white as a sheet, a sickly grin on his face and still doing up his fly! “What’s wrong, Mario?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen our friend!” “Yes, I have! And if you know what’s good for you, you had better take me seriously!” By now we were all eager to hear what he had to say, except Noel, the Council Secretary, who was highly amused by all this. “Believe me, I am not kidding . . .as I was leaving the bath room I saw this hooded person exiting one wall of the corridor and entering the one opposite! He scared the s . . . out of me!” Other details were: Mario saw the apparition in profile, eyes closed as it moved enveloped in a bluish mist and it was male. Eerie hardly begins to describe the account. Most of us began to take Mario seriously judging by the sombre mood that descended on the group as we left the building. Except Noel, who still thought the whole matter to be highly amusing.

However it was Noel who reported the next apparition. This time we were dealing with a distinctly different ghost if one were to consider the different clothing and facial features, and clearly not scary at all. This happened around Christmas time and I had just joined Noel to help him with the final details of the children’s party the Council was organizing later that Sunday afternoon. “I have just seen your friend!” he said smiling. “Where? “Just now, walking along the landing and entering the Main Chamber.” “You’re taking this calmly. Weren’t you scared?” “Not at all”. As I said, Noel’s description of the ghost suggested that we had a second ghost on our hands. In fact Noel was to entertain a number of repeats. All-in-all, a friendly, peaceful, walkabout at regular intervals.

Vilhena Palace Triumphal Gate 

Noel’s last sighting was, however, decidedly different and very, very frightening. Briefly, the scenario was: mid-week in mid-winter; the place was deserted except for Noel who still had a couple of hours office work to do. He normally sat at a desk directly opposite a door leading on to a spacious landing. The door was usually left ajar secured by a latch which left an opening a few centimetres wide. He later recounted what happened next: “The temperature dropped suddenly. Then, I heard soft rustling just outside. I looked up and saw a hand ‘dressed’ with a silk-like cuff emerging through the gap in the door and with one vicious, violent upward movement, unhooked the latch and slammed the door shut with a loud bang!” “What happened next?” I asked. “Nothing. I left the building so fast that I would put any Olympic champion sprinter to shame!”

Eventually, although Noel and I left the Council for pastures new, I was nevertheless kept informed of later events. Ecclesiastical intervention did not alter anything – the message being (from the ghosts), “This is our patch. Keep your distance!” The Office staff did tell of numerous rushing sensations, as if someone came in and left the room running. 

Years later, I took a small group of ten year old students on a visit to Vilhena Palace. After enjoying the exhibits in the Natural History Museum, we were welcomed by the Council Secretary to a tour of the premises. While we were being treated to soft drinks and biscuits, I recounted the ghostly goings on of earlier years. I loved watching the children’s wide-eyed innocent wonderment! Needless to say I embellished my account with a fair number of details all of which apocryphal. “I suppose these things have stopped now.” I said addressing our host. “On the contrary! We have regular visits from our knightly friend!” To the eager requests from the students hungry for more details he said: “Oh, nothing spectacular: this gentleman normally comes into this room from the landing, walks past the table where you are sitting and on to my office. He is usually dressed in a flowing white shirt, black pants and a black cape. He also carries a sword at his side.” When my students were trooping out of the office at the end of the visit, I drew the Secretary to one side and “You were kidding us. Right?” I challenged. “Not at all”, he said sounding almost hurt at my question. “He is such a regular visitor that we do not take much notice of him anymore!”

To finish with a note of importance: Vilhena Palace is guarded by night-watchmen who claim they have never seen or heard anything out of the ordinary!

Images: Wikipedia