At the western edge of
Chapel Hill is a high wooded cliff.
The view from it is beautiful,
and the spot is frequented by young lovers.
Why does it seem to
attract tragedy?
![The Legend of Gimghoul]()
![Gimghoul Castle]()
In 1833 a youth named Peter
Dromgoole arrived from Virginia to study at the University of North
Carolina. He had been there only a few months when he met and fell deeply
in love with a beautiful Chapel Hill girl. There are few campuses which
equal the loveliness of the University of North Carolina in the spring. It
must have been particularly appreciated by young Peter Dromgoole that
spring of 1833.
He and Fanny had their own
secret meeting place - a huge flat rock near the cliff. Some afternoons,
when Fanny arrived before Peter, she would sit on the rock watching the
sunlight drift through the trees above. It was never long, however, before
she would see Peter's tall figure striding toward her along the winding
road which lead to the rock. One balmy spring day followed another so
happily that these two could hardly have sensed the approaching tragedy.
Then Peter noticed that another
student - a close friend of his - was also interested in Fanny. Gradually
Peter's jealousy grew until finally it became an unreasoning thing which
knew no bounds. He made every effort to avoid his former friend but the
other youth seemed to delight in goading him. One afternoon the two met
face to face on one of the narrow dirt walks of the campus. His rival's
shoulder hit Peter's with such force as they passed that his hat was
knocked to the ground. The rage which had been smouldering within Peter
rose and enveloped him. His face flushed and heated words flew between the
two young men.
The other youth
challenged Peter to a duel. The challenge was no sooner flung down than it
was accepted. Each chose his seconds. The spot agreed to for the duel was
to be near the cliff at the edge of town. The hour was set for midnight
and plans were laid with the upmost secrecy. Peter was a reasonably good
shot, but the night of the duel was such that marksmanship good or bad
scarcely mattered.
A warm May evening, it had
rained briefly and a low-lying mist clung to the group, wrapping itself
tenaciously around students and trees alike. The two men and their seconds
made their way carefully toward the cliff. Before they realized it, the
protagonists were almost upon each other. As they backed off for the
agreed upon ten paces, their figures assumed an almost ghostlike quality.
Two shots rang out and the seconds rushed toward the young man who lay on
the ground.
Blood covered the front of the
ruffled white shirt. Even as his second attempted to lift his head, Peter
Dromgoole gasped and breathed his last. Terrified, his rival and the two
seconds dragged the lifeless Peter away from the cliff and toward a huge
rock. Digging frantically - lifting their heads at each strange sound from
the woods - they finally managed to dig a grave deep enough. They lifted
Peter's body from the rock, placed it in its shallow grave and replaced
the earth as carefully as the darkness and their haste would allow. ![Gimghoul Castle]()
Meanwhile, Peter's family had
received a strange letter from him. A letter which warned that he might
bring sadness upon them and that they would probably never hear from him
again. This was the last they ever heard from their son. A few weeks
later, his uncle, at the insistence of Peter's mother, made a trip to
Chapel Hill. In the room which Peter had shared with a young man named
John Williams were the only signs that remained of him - his trunk and a
few clothes.
Peter Dromgoole had disappeared
as completely as if he had been spirited away. His fellow students were
unable to give any clues as to what had happened to him. Stage coaches
leaving Chapel Hill showed no record of any passenger named Peter
Dromgoole. His uncle returned to Virginia a saddened and extremely worried
man. His trip had been fruitless and without one clue as to his nephew's
whereabouts.
This version of Peter's death
and disappearance was related by a former student as he lay on his
deathbed some 60 years later. It may or may not be the true story of the
strange fate of Peter Dromgoole.
But what of a Chapel Hill girl
named Fanny? For many a long summer afternoon she waited at the rock for
her lover. What strange brownish stains had suddenly appeared on it!
Sometimes as the shadows lengthened, she would think she saw a tall figure
striding toward her through the woods. Then she would put her head in her
arms across the rock and sob quietly. Her agonizing questions were never
to receive an answer.
According to another story,
young Peter ran away from school and enlisted in the army. However, the
muster rolls of his supposed battalion have never been found. Is the name
of Peter Dromgoole upon them? If so, the yellowed pages lying in some
forgotten cache hold fast to their secret.
