Boston Athenaeum

One of America's oldest independent libraries, founded in 1807. The collection includes a book bound in human skin containing the memoir of the man whose skin was used. The library overlooks the haunted Granary Burying Ground.

The Boston Athenaeum, founded in 1807, stands as one of America's oldest independent libraries and harbors one of literary history's most intriguing ghost stories. This magnificent institution, which houses over 600,000 volumes including George Washington's personal library, became the setting for an encounter that would haunt one of America's greatest writers.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, who frequented the Athenaeum during his years in Boston, reported a peculiar and unsettling experience in 1842. The author of "The Scarlet Letter" and "The House of the Seven Gables" regularly encountered Reverend Thaddeus Mason Harris sitting in his customary alcove, absorbed in his reading as he had been for decades. The elderly minister, a longtime trustee and devoted patron of the library, seemed perfectly normal—until Hawthorne learned that Reverend Harris had died.

The ghost of Reverend Harris appeared so substantial and lifelike that Hawthorne initially had no reason to suspect anything supernatural. The specter sat in Harris's favorite spot, turning pages and appearing deep in scholarly contemplation, just as the minister had done in life. It was only after multiple encounters that Hawthorne discovered his reading companion had passed away, leaving the author deeply shaken by the realization that he had been sharing space with a ghost.

This experience profoundly affected Hawthorne, who later explored themes of guilt, hidden sin, and the supernatural throughout his literary works. Some scholars suggest the Athenaeum haunting influenced his gothic sensibilities. Hawthorne himself remained disturbed by the encounters, reportedly avoiding certain areas of the library afterward.

Staff members and visitors continue to report unusual activity attributed to Reverend Harris's spirit. The library's elevator has gained a reputation for malfunctioning in inexplicable ways—stopping at floors where no one called it, opening doors to empty hallways, and operating erratically when no mechanical issues can be found. Many attribute these anomalies to the scholarly ghost, perhaps still navigating his beloved institution.

The Athenaeum also houses one of America's most macabre artifacts: a book bound in human skin. "Narrative of the Life of James Allen" contains the memoirs of a highwayman who requested his skin be used for the binding after his death in 1837—an example of anthropodermic bibliopegy that adds to the building's eerie atmosphere. The book remains in the collection, a testament to the strange and dark history that permeates this venerable institution.

Visitors report cold spots in various reading rooms, the sensation of being watched while browsing the stacks, and occasional glimpses of a figure in period clothing disappearing around corners. The five-story building on Beacon Street, with its marble halls and towering bookcases, provides a fitting backdrop for spectral activity. Some theorize that a place so devoted to preserving knowledge and history might naturally attract spirits reluctant to leave their intellectual pursuits.

The Boston Athenaeum maintains its distinction as a center of learning and culture, but for those who know its history, every reading alcove holds the possibility of encountering a ghost who never finished his final book.