2. P.T. Barnum’s Haunted House Tale
This next yarn comes from none other than Phineas Taylor Barnum himself, the great American ‘Hoaxster’ of the 1800s and the subject of one of 2018’s most successful Hollywood films, a 427 million dollar blockbuster called ‘The Greatest Showman’.
Here is an adaptation of the story Barnum told hundreds of times to the great, great grandparents of those of us living in the soon to be 2020s.
P.T. Barnum’s Ghost Story
Though many people scoff at the idea of haunted houses; a great many of their number would probably immediately turn down the chance of spending the night in one.
In every village, town, and city in the United States there is some building that has a shrouded and questionable history. This is also true of communities in every nation of the world.
Perhaps just a few miles from where you live, there's a structure, be it a house, store, factory or farm where the humans have been frightened away – leaving the premises to new tenants; the rats, bats, owls, fowls, and perhaps paranormal creatures and ghosts.
In my own experience I had a life changing encounter with a hairy 'Littlefoot' being called a Puckwudgie. People who have seen the "Bridgewater Triangle Documentary" or who have read my books will be familiar with the hairy little thing that beckoned me with the cry, "Keer, Keer, ee wahn chu. Keer."
For the present, I want to pass along a ghost story from the 19th century. Be forewarned the source is the legendary huckster, P.T. Barnum.
The great showman started telling this tale in the late 1800s, claiming that it was related to him by the very man who experienced it, Actor Charles Kirby of the Chatham Theater in England.
One week after the haunting, Kirby met Barnum and told him the story. Barnum said that he knew Kirby fairly well and believed him to be an honest and truthful man. Barnum claimed he remembered the man's exact words, which Kirby assured him on his word of honor that to the letter, is true.
“I heard scary and wonderful stories about a strange house in Yorkshire,” said Kirby,“ and I was very glad to get a chance to enter it, although, I confess, the next morning I was just as glad to get out of it.”
“It was an old country estate — a solid, stone mansion which had long borne the reputation of a haunted house. It was watched only by one man. He was the old gardener, an ancient servant of the family that once lived there, and a person in whom the family reposed implicit confidence.
“Having had some inkling of this wonderful place and having a few days to spare before going to London to fulfil an engagement at the Surry Theatre, I thought I would probe this haunted-house story to the bottom. I therefore called on the old gardener who had charge of the place, and introduced myself as an American traveler desirous of spending a night with his ghosts. The old man seemed to be about seventy-five or eighty years of age. I met him at the gate of the estate, where he kept guard. He told me, when I applied, that it was a dangerous spot to enter, but I could pass it if I pleased. I should, however, have to return by the same door, if I ever came back again.
“Wishing to make sure of the job, I gave him a sovereign, and asked him to give me all the privileges of the establishment; and if his bill amounted to more, I would settle it when I returned. He looked at me with an expression of doubt and apprehension, as much as to say that he neither understood what I was going to do nor what was likely to happen. He merely remarked:
“‘You can go in.’
“‘Will you go with me, and show me the road?’
“‘I will.’
“‘Go ahead.’
“We entered. The gate closed. I suddenly turned on my man, the old gardener and custodian of the place, and said to him:
“‘Now, my friend, I am going to sift this humbug to the bottom, even if I stay here forty nights in succession; and I am prepared to lay all “spirits” that present themselves; but if you will save me all trouble in the matter and frankly explain to me the whole affair, I will never mention it to your injury, and I will present you with ten golden sovereigns.’
“The old fellow looked astonished; but he smirked, and whimpered, and trembled, and said:
“‘I am afraid to do that; but I will warn you against going too far.’
“When we had crossed a courtyard, he rang a bell, and several strange noises were distinctly heard. I was introduced to the establishment through a well-constructed archway, which led to a large stairway, from which we proceeded to a great door, which opened into a very large room. It was a library. The old custodian had carried a torch (and I was prepared with a box of matches.) He was acting evidently ‘on the square,’ and I sat myself down in the library, where he told me that I should soon see positive evidence that this was a haunted house.
“Not being a very firm believer in the doctrine of houses really haunted, I proposed to keep a pretty good hold of my match-box, and lest there should be any doubt about it, I also provided myself with two candles, which I kept in my pocket, so I should not be left too suddenly and too long in the dark.
“‘Now Sir,’ said he, ‘I wish you to hold all your nerves steady and keep your courage up, because I intend to stand by you as well as I can, but I never come into this house alone.’
“‘Well, what is the matter with the house?’
“‘Oh! everything, Sir!’
“‘What?’
“‘Well, when I was much younger than I am now, the master of this estate got frightened here by some mysterious appearances, noises, sounds, etc., and he preferred to leave the place.’
“‘Why?"
“‘He had a tradition from his grandfather, and pretty well kept alive in the family, that it was a haunted house; and he let out the estate to the smaller farmers of the neighborhood, and quit the premises, and never returned again, except one night, and after that one night he left. We suppose he is dead. Now, Sir, if you wish to spend the night here as you have requested, what may happen to you I don’t know; but I tell you it is a haunted house, and I would not sleep here to-night for all the wealth of the Bank of England!’
“This did not deter me in the least, and having the means of self-protection around me, and plenty of matches, I thought I would explore this mystery and see whether a humbug which had terrified the proprietors of that magnificent house in the midst of a magnificent estate, for upward of sixty years, could not be explored and exploded. That it was a humbug, I had no doubt; that I would find it out, I was not so certain.
“I sat down in the library, fully determined to spend the night in the establishment. A door was opened into an adjoining room where there was a dust-covered lounge, and everything promised as much comfort as could be expected under the circumstances.
“However, before the old keeper of the house left, I asked him to show me over the building, and let me explore for myself the different rooms and apartments. To all this he readily consented; and as he had some prospect before him of making a good job out of it, he displayed a great deal of alacrity, and moved along very quick and smart for a man apparently eighty years of age.
“I went from room to room and story to story. Everything seemed to be well arranged, but somewhat dusty and time-worn. I kept a pretty sharp lookout, but I could see no sort of machinery for producing a grand effect.
“We finally descended to the library, when I closed the door, and bolting and locking it, took the key and put it in my pocket.
“‘Now, Sir,’ I said to the keeper, ‘where is the humbug?’
“‘There is no humbug here,’ he answered.
“‘Well, why don’t you show me some evidence of the haunted house?’
“‘You wait,’ said he, ‘till twelve o’clock to-night, and you will see “haunting” enough for you. I will not stay till then.’
“He left; I stayed. Everything was quiet for some time. Not a mouse was heard, not a rat was visible, and I thought I would go to sleep.
“I lay down for this purpose, but I soon heard certain extraordinary sounds that disturbed my repose. Chains were clanked, noises were made, and shrieks and groans were heard from various parts of the mansion. All of these I had expected. They did not frighten me much. A little while after, just as I was going to sleep again, a curious string of light burned around the room. It ran along on the walls in a zigzag line, about six feet high, entirely through the apartment. I did not smell anything bituminous or like sulphur. It flashed quicker than powder, and it did not smell like it.
“Thinks I: ‘This looks pretty well, we will have some amusement now.’ Then the jangling of bells, and clanking of chains, and flashes of light; then thumpings and knockings of all sorts came along, interspersed with shrieks and groans. I sat very quiet.
“I had two of Colt’s best pistols in my pocket, and I thought I could shoot anything spiritual or material with these machines made in Connecticut. I took them out and laid them on the table. One of them suddenly disappeared! I did not like that, still my nerves were firm, for I knew it was all a sham. I took the other pistol in my hand and surveyed the room. Nobody was there; and, finally half suspicious that I had gone to sleep and had a dream, I woke up with a grasp on my hand which was holding the other pistol. This soon made me fully awake.
“I tried to recover my balance, and at this moment the candle went out. I lit it with one of my matches. No person was visible, but the noises began again, and they were infernal. I then took one of my candles out and went to unlock the door. I attempted to take the key out of my pocket. It was not there! Suddenly the door opened, I saw a man or a somebody about the size of a man, standing straight in front of me. I pointed one of Colt’s revolvers at his head, for I thought I saw something human about him; and I told him that whether he was ghost or spirit, goblin or robber, he had better stand steady, or I would blow his brains out, if he had any.
“To make sure that he should not escape I got hold of his arm, and told him that if he was a ghost he would have a tolerably hard time of it, and that if he was a humbug I would let him off if he would tell me the whole story about the trick.
“He saw that he was caught, and he earnestly begged me not to fire the American pistol at him. I did not; but I did not let go of him. I brought him into the library, and with pistol in hand I put him through a pretty close examination. He was clad in mailed armor, with breastplate and helmet, and a great sword, in the style of the Crusaders. He promised, on condition of saving his life, to give me an honest account of the facts.
“In substance they were, that he, an old family-servant, and ultimately a gardener in charge of the place, had been employed by an enemy of the gentleman who owned the property, to render it so uncomfortable that the estate should be sold for much less than its value; and that he had got an ingenious machinist and chemist to assist him in arranging such contrivances as would make the house so intolerable that they could not live there. A galvanic battery with wires were provided, and every device of chemistry and mechanism was resorted to in order to effect this purpose.
“One by one, the family left; and they had remained away for nearly two generations under the terror of such forms, and appearances, and sights and sounds, as frightened them almost to death. And furthermore, the old gardener added, that he expected his own grand-daughter would become the lady of that house, when the property should have been neglected so long and the place became so fearful that no one in the neighborhood would undertake to purchase it, or to even pass one moment after dark in exploring its horrible mysteries.
“He begged on his knees that I would spare him with his gray hairs, since he had so short a time to live. He declared that he had been actuated by no other motive than pride and ambition for his child.
“I told the poor old fellow that his secret should be safe with me and should not be made public so long as he lived. The old man grasped my hand eagerly and expressed his gratitude in the strongest terms. Thus, I have given you the pure and honest facts in regard to my adventure in a so called haunted house. Don’t make it public until you are convinced that the old gardener has shuffled off this mortal coil.”
According to Kirby the gardener kept up his charade for decades. Even after his daughter married and moved far away. After his death, no further ghosts or spectral apparitions were manifested but still the house remained unoccupied and may still be so to this day more than 150 years later.
The End