shooting ghosts with ordinary guns

[toff]

It seems to me I've come across a number of stories in which characters try to shoot ghosts, though why they imagine that would have any effect I'm not sure.

The first one that comes to mind is "Jerry Bundler" (AKA "The Tragedy of the Christmas Ghost") by W. W. Jacobs, both short story and play, where a man is wound up with ghost stories and he then tries shooting the ghostly figure that appears with tragic results:

www.google.com/books/edition/The_Windsor_Magazine/7adFAQAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&pg=PA57&printsec=frontcover

www.gutenberg.org/files/18677/18677-h/18677-h.htm

I seem to recall such a scene involving a seance and characters who have been drugged, one of them an American - maybe the seance in the TV series Dead Still (2020)? I'll have to revisit that series, regardless.

Are people aware of other examples, ones where ghosts are shot, perhaps even harmed somehow? I don't know why any would be harmed, but maybe some story found a way to make it logically follow that they can be. (The same weapon that killed them when they were alive, maybe? A bullet that's been blessed to make them pass on?)

[Swampirella]

I know that author Frederic Marryat shot the Brown Lady of Raynham Hall in the face: (from Wikipedia)

"The next reported sighting of the "Brown Lady" was made in 1836 by Captain Frederick Marryat, a friend of novelist Charles Dickens, and the author of a series of popular sea novels. It is said that Marryat requested that he spend the night in the most haunted room of Raynham Hall to prove his theory that the haunting was caused by local smugglers anxious to keep people away from the area. Writing in 1891, Florence Marryat said of her father's experience:

…he took possession of the room in which the portrait of the apparition hung, and in which she had been often seen, and slept each night with a loaded revolver under his pillow. For two days, however, he saw nothing, and the third was to be the limit of his stay. On the third night, however, two young men (nephews of the baronet), knocked at his door as he was undressing to go to bed, and asked him to step over to their room (which was at the other end of the corridor), and give them his opinion on a new gun just arrived from London. My father was in his shirt and trousers, but as the hour was late, and everybody had retired to rest except themselves, he prepared to accompany them as he was. As they were leaving the room, he caught up his revolver, “in case you meet the Brown Lady,” he said, laughing. When the inspection of the gun was over, the young men in the same spirit declared they would accompany my father back again, “in case you meet the Brown Lady,” they repeated, laughing also. The three gentlemen therefore returned in company.

The corridor was long and dark, for the lights had been extinguished, but as they reached the middle of it, they saw the glimmer of a lamp coming towards them from the other end. “One of the ladies going to visit the nurseries,” whispered the young Townshends to my father. Now the bedroom doors in that corridor faced each other, and each room had a double door with a space between, as is the case in many old-fashioned houses. My father, as I have said, was in shirt and trousers only, and his native modesty made him feel uncomfortable, so he slipped within one of the outer doors (his friends following his example), in order to conceal himself until the lady should have passed by.

I have heard him describe how he watched her approaching nearer and nearer, through the chink of the door, until, as she was close enough for him to distinguish the colors and style of her costume, he recognised the figure as the facsimile of the portrait of “The Brown Lady”. He had his finger on the trigger of his revolver, and was about to demand it to stop and give the reason for its presence there, when the figure halted of its own accord before the door behind which he stood, and holding the lighted lamp she carried to her features, grinned in a malicious and diabolical manner at him. This act so infuriated my father, who was anything but lamb-like in disposition, that he sprang into the corridor with a bound, and discharged the revolver right in her face. The figure instantly disappeared - the figure at which for several minutes three men had been looking together – and the bullet passed through the outer door of the room on the opposite side of the corridor, and lodged in the panel of the inner one. My father never attempted again to interfere with "The Brown Lady of Raynham".

[dem]

Was struggling to think of any until it came to me that I'd transcribed and uploaded one just yesterday (!)

Elliott O'Donnell's Getting Rid of a Mother in Law: A Ghost Story

[humgoo]

Jan 17, 2024 3:00:55 GMT toff said:

The first one that comes to mind is "Jerry Bundler" (AKA "The Tragedy of the Christmas Ghost") by W. W. Jacobs

This and "The Gentleman from America" by Michael Arlen? Although one may argue that in the latter the gentleman thinks he's shooting (at least at first) a human.

[samdawson]

John Canning's 50 Great Horror Stories contains The Attic Room, which tells of Kevin, an Australian, who accepts a bet that he can't spend the night in a haunted room at his friend Alistair's house. During the night 'the Drumkattle ghost' appears, intent on avenging her own murder by killing any man in the room. Terrified, Kevin empties his revolver into her before collapsing.
SPOILER
Years later he meets Alistair at his London club, where his host explains how he wired the room, faked the manifestation and removed the bullets from the cartridges in the revolver. Alistair leaps up and stabs him to death. A letter is then found from Kevin's father warning how the 'haunting' ruined Kevin's life and should not be mentioned.
I was given the book aged eight and understood the stories to be true, with this one having a particular impact as a result.

[Shrink Proof]

I recall that the first episode of Mark Gatiss' 2008 TV trilogy "Crooked House", a sort Amicus movie meets M R James thing, features something being shot at. The story concerns a house (obviously...) at three points in its history - the 18th century, the 1920s and the present day; each episode is a separate story but an overarching back story links them. In the 18th century episode, "The Wainscotting", something evil (a ghost??) comes out of the woodwork - literally, as the timbers are a repurposed gallows that have retained their grisly psychic imprint. The protagonist blasts it several times with what looks like a flintlock pistol, to no effect whatsoever....

You can watch all three episodes as one 90 minute film right here...

[dem]

On rereading the thing, the O'Donnell doesn't really qualify as Mrs. Babbage is so wordly she believes she is shooting a burglar.

E. F. Benson pays passing reference to a Colonel Blantyre firing on the phantom twins in How Fear departed from the Long Gallery.

"Ghost" Shot Dead In Village Cemetery
Prison sentence for Man

BECAUSE he killed a "ghost," Ivan Hajduk, a peasant of the Jugoslav village of Lyubiski, is now serving a prison sentence.

After a night in the village inn Ivan bet his friends that he would visit the local cemetery at midnight and bring back a wreath to prove he had been there.

When wandering in the graveyard he was terrified by a whiteclad apparition which appeared from behind a tombstone, drew his revolver and shot the "ghost," which dropped shouting "Help!"

The ghost, a friend of Ivan's who thought he would play a joke on his superstitious friend, was so badly wounded that he died the same night. The court held that Ivan was not responsible for his friend's death, but sentenced him for violating the peace of the cemetery.

— Illustrated Police News, 4 March 1937

[toff]

Jan 17, 2024 16:36:27 GMT dem said:

On rereading the thing, the O'Donnell doesn't really qualify as Mrs. Babbage is so wordly she believes she is shooting a burglar.

E. F. Benson pays passing reference to a Colonel Blantyre firing on the phantom twins in How Fear departed from the Long Gallery.

Firing at something that turns out to have been a ghost, or when others were suggesting the presence of a ghost, seems close enough to be relevant and also of interest.

Benson's lines are punchy, if also frustrating: "More terrible yet was the case of a certain Colonel Blantyre who fired at the children with his revolver. What he went through is not to be recorded here."

I'm not familiar with most of the stories mentioned in the thread thus far, so I've got some reading to do - thanks, all!

The idea of shooting a ghost is suggested in Fergus Hume's "The Ghost in Brocade" but really only as a way of deterring whoever might be playing at being one. How did the Scooby gang never come up with that solution?

Of course they protested vehemently. But that was to be expected. “However,” I said, “you can take this warning from me. I shall watch in the gallery myself with a straight-shooting revolver, and if that ghost appears it shall have a taste of it. I am not going to have your master and mistress and Miss Alliston frightened by this silly trick.” [...] 
“The ghost will have a dose of lead, Mrs. Brag. If you hear a shot, don’t be alarmed.”
“But you can’t shoot ghosts, Geoffrey, they’re shadows, my dear. You can see through ‘em.” [...]
“I daresay. I never saw one myself. But this ghost is pretty substantial I’ll be bound. But tell me, Mrs. Brag; was anything ever found out about the jewels?” It was possible that my public announcement to shoot the so-called ghost had scared the person who, I truly believed, represented it.

gutenberg.net.au/ebooks17/1700531h.html#TheGhostinBrocade

Great illustrations from the Illustrated Police News in 1937!

There are quite a lot of purported news items of varying lengths about such incidents.

When they don’t outright say that a human was really behind it, it's difficult to say what they expect readers to take away - that there really was a ghost, or to feel intellectually superior to the people that believed there was one?

Several illustrated ones:

Ivan whipped out a revolver and fired at the ghost. To his surprise the phantom didn’t vanish, but sank, human-like to the ground, howling with pain.
fultonhistory.com/highlighter/highlight-for-xml?altUrl=https%3A%2F%2Ffultonhistory.com%2FLogin_18%2FAlbany%20NY%20Times%20Union%2FAlbany%20NY%20Times%20Union%201937%2FAlbany%20NY%20Times%20Union%201937%20-%207159.pdf [same news item as above, different illustration!]

Officer Cason, sent to patrol the cemetery, reported: “I saw a ghost and shot at it. I couldn’t have missed.” After he had fired the shot, the ghost vanished. Cason, like his predecessors, withdrew from the beat lest he go mad.
fultonhistory.com/highlighter/highlight-for-xml?altUrl=https%3A%2F%2Ffultonhistory.com%2FLogin_18%2FAlbany%2520NY%2520Times%2520Union%2FAlbany%2520NY%2520Times%2520Union%25201934%2FAlbany%2520NY%2520Times%2520Union%25201934%2520-%25203484.pdf


BURIED ALIVE AND SHOT AS A GHOST.
Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Paper. December 14, 1867: 205 cols 1-2.
fultonhistory.com/Newspapers%2021/New%20York%20NY%20Frank%20Leslies%20Illustrated%20Newspaper/New%20York%20NY%20Frank%20Leslies%20Illustrated%20Newspaper%201867/New%20York%20NY%20Frank%20Leslies%20Illustrated%20Newspaper%201867%2012-14_25_637_0012.pdf

JOHN MURPHY’S ENCOUNTER WITH THE GHOST. [...]
KNOCKED OUT BY THE GHOST.
New York Press. March 31, 1901: II 1 cols 1-5.
fultonhistory.com/Login_18/New York NY Press/New York NY Press 1901/New York NY Press 1901 a - 0147.pdf

(try tinyurl.com/bdpd8n3c for above)

I can see what appears to be an illustrated one with the headline “Buried Alive and Shot as a Ghost” in The Day’s Doings [London]. December 31, 1870: 12, but don’t have a current membership at BNA at the moment. The headline matches one of the above; perhaps it's a reprint?

I had reproduced some similar news items in print with respect to people dressed as Santa Claus, Belsnicklers, etc.. Not shared anywhere as yet, but when I’d taken a look at the history of Halloween found numerous incidents of pranksters being shot (though examples of people thinking them ghosts I don't recall seeing much of). Perhaps shooting so-called pranksters was somewhat justified by the number of "pranksters" who had engaged in activity fatal to their victims, but often the people getting shot were innocent bystanders. I even found shooting being advocated in some newspapers:

"HALLOWE'EN tonight. Chain down the sidewalks and get the shot-gun ready."
Eaton Rapids Journal [MI]. October 31, 1890: 5 col 3.

"Hallow'een will soon be here and then the weak minded will try to celebrate by destroying sidewalks and property. They should be received with a good dose of shot, and then, perhaps, they might learn something."
Oswego Daily Record [NY]. October 20, 1892: 3 col 4.

(I presume those news items are referring to wood boardwalks where the roads are just dirt, prior to road paving becoming common and then brick, flag, or concrete sidewalks becoming common too.)

It all tends to suggest a firearm corrolary to Mencken. "No one in this world has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people with respect to the use of firearms," or somesuch.

Perhaps rarer(?): ghosts with ghostly guns, ghosts handling physical guns - a poltergeist sort of thing, and humans using ghostly guns dropped by or wrested from ghosts - I suspect that last the rarest of all. Anything a ghost is wearing or holding it generally can't take off, put down, or give away, I would think. Although that would suggest ghostly guns are absurd because ghostly bullets would vanish the moment they left the muzzle, so maybe ghosts being able to disrobe, to put ghostly objects down is commonplace.

[dem]

Jan 17, 2024 20:45:11 GMT toff said:

I can see what appears to be an illustrated one with the headline “Buried Alive and Shot as a Ghost” in The Day’s Doings [London]. December 31, 1870: 12, but don’t have a current membership at BNA at the moment. The headline matches one of the above; perhaps it's a reprint?

Looks to be Frank Leslie's Ohio incident — relocated to Ireland.

The Day's Doings, 31 Dec. 1870

The Paisley Herald & Renfrewshire Advertiser for 30 Nov 1867 quotes this detailed report on the Ohio premature burial and subsequent 'ghost shooting' from The Cleveland Plain Dealer

BURIED ALIVE.
SHOOTING AT A GHOST.

THE Cleveland Plain Dealer has the following: — We have before us a private letter, detailing events that recently occurred in a South-Western Ohio town, that give peculiar force to the old adage, that truth is stranger than fiction. We can give the main particulars of the letter without violating confidence or giving disagreeable prominence to the chief actor in the strange incident, or his friends. Mr Delos W. is a wealthy and influential man, residing near the village of P. On the Thursday preceding the prize fight between Gallagher and Davis, the old gentleman was thrown into a high state of excitement at learning that his only son John had gone to Cleveland with the avowed purpose of attending the fight, and his excitement was intensified at still farther discovering that John had helped himself to his (the father's) pocket-book, containing 200 dollars. Mr W. fumed and fretted over the conduct of his son, and went to bed on Thursday night with a raging headache and marked symptoms of fever. He was about the place in a more composed state of mind, on Friday, but the interview with John, on Monday afternoon, immediately after the son's return, threw the old gentleman into a paroxysm of rage and grief, which was rendered doubly severe by John's insolence, and his acknowledgment, that he had lost 150 dollars of the money in a bet on Gallagher. Mr W.'s frenzied feelings finally got the better of him, and he felled his son to the floor with a blow of his fist, and immediately thereafter fell down himself in a senseless condition. Great excitement in the family ensued. The mother ran screaming for assistance, which was soon forthcoming in the person of several of the neighbours. Mr W. was found in an apparently lifeless condition, with blood flowing from his mouth and nose. A subsequent examination by a physician led to the announcement, by him, that Mr W. had died from the bursting of a blood vessel. So evidently had the vital spark fled, that no efforts at resuscitation were made; and the remains were prepared for burial as promptly as possible. The funeral of the deceased took place the following Wednesday. Mr W.'s body had only been coffined the previous day — up to which time it had laid draped in its shroud in the parlour. Notwithstanding the wonderful life look of the skin, and the colour in the face, it occurred to no one to suggest a postponement of the burial till death was absolutely certain. The funeral was very largely attended, and everybody remarked the life-like appearance of the deceased. The remains were temporarily placed in one of the vaults of the cemetery, owing to the fact that a brick tomb, commenced for their reception, had not been completed. At ten o'clock on Thursday night the village was thrown into great excitement by the report that a ghost had been seen in the cemetery a short time before, and that the old lady who had first seen it had been frightened into a fit from which it was doubtful whether she would recover. Thinking that probably the ghost was personated by some scoundrel, who had played the same trick several times before, a number of persons armed themselves with shot guns, proceeded to the cemetery, and commenced a cautious inspection — their hearts keeping up an anxious thumping in their bosoms, in spite of their assumed bravado. They had not long to wait, for there, flitting among the tombs, was a white object, plainly to be seen. With trembling hands the guns were raised, and fired, when —strange fact for a ghost — they saw the white creature fall between a couple of graves. Plucking up courage, they cautiously approached the object, and turned a dark lantern upon it, when they found that the ghost was the lately deceased Mr Delos W! Whilst a portion of the party picked up the bleeding and senseless body of the old gentleman, and started home with it, the remainder hastened to the vault. There they found Mr W.'s coffin broken open and lying upon the floor, and the coffin of a deceased lady, that had been placed upon it, likewise thrown down from the shelf, and standing on end, partially broken open, displaying its ghastly inmate. The vault door, which was rather a weak affair, had been forced upon by the resurrected W. The party then went to Mr W.'s house, where they found that his wounds were not serious, and that he had recovered his senses. His story was briefly told: — He had been carried to the cemetry in a trance. Early on Thursday evening consciousness returned to him, and the horrid truth flashed upon his mind that he was coffined alive. This lent additional strength to his struggles to get free, and he finally succeeded in bursting the coffin. Mr W. is now fast recovering, and seems good for a long lease of life yet.

— The Paisley Herald & Renfrewshire Advertiser, 30 Nov 1867

***

Perhaps the most famous example of them all — Sir Robert Warboys versus that which once haunted number 50 Berkley Square. The following extract is from Terrace Whitaker's Haunted England (Contemporary Books, 1987).

" ... The house was the talk of London in the early nineteenth century when Sir Robert Warboys accepted a foolhardy challenge at his club. The handsome adventurer scoffed when friends discussed the possible causes of the disasters at No. 50, and vowed to spend a night there to prove that all the talk of supernatural happenings was 'poppycock'. The owner of the house was a man called Benson. He was reluctant to allow the experiment, but Sir Robert would not be dissuaded, although he did agree, under pressure, to take a gun with him. Mr Benson also insisted that Sir Robert's friends and himself stand guard on the floor below the bedroom where he would spend the night. If anything strange happened, the young aristocrat was to pull the cord which would then ring a bell in the room on the floor below.

Sir Robert retired at 11.15 after a hearty dinner. Just three-quarters of an hour later, the bell began to jangle, and as the rescue party raced upstairs, they heard a shot. They burst into the room to find Sir Robert slumped across the bed, his head dangling over the side. He was dead - but not from a bullet wound. His eyes bulged in terror, his lips were curled hideously above clenched teeth. In short, he had died of fright."

Some more about 50 Berkley Square: Aidan Chambers Haunted Houses

[toff]

Relocating a supposed news story is a curious thing to do!

The idea that a ghost is worth trying to shoot with a gun is probably very old, despite the thought of shooting anything noncorporeal being counterintuitive.  I did find an example of it being transmitted as folklore, but at a much later date than some of the stories and news items shared here:

To kill a ghost, it must be shot with a bullet made of a silver quarter-dollar. Silver nails or screws in a coffin will prevent the dead haunting the scenes of its existence in the flesh.
Moore, Ruby Andrews. “Superstitions from Georgia.” Journal of American Folk-Lore 7(27). October-December 1894. 305.

[Jojo Lapin X]

Jan 18, 2024 20:18:29 GMT toff said:

Relocating a supposed news story is a curious thing to do!

The idea that a ghost is worth trying to shoot with a gun is probably very old, despite the thought of shooting anything noncorporeal being counterintuitive.  I did find an example of it being transmitted as folklore, but at a much later date than some of the stories and news items shared here:

To kill a ghost, it must be shot with a bullet made of a silver quarter-dollar. Silver nails or screws in a coffin will prevent the dead haunting the scenes of its existence in the flesh.
Moore, Ruby Andrews. “Superstitions from Georgia.” Journal of American Folk-Lore 7(27). October-December 1894. 305.

I find a fly-swatter suffices; these things are quite insubstantial.

[dem]

H. M. Bateman: On Guard, The Tatler, 30 Nov. 1904

Jan 18, 2024 20:22:51 GMT Jojo Lapin X said:

I find a fly-swatter suffices; these things are quite insubstantial.

Didn't Jules de Grandin once use a fly-swatter to banish some evil entity or other?

The ghost at 50 Berkeley Square was reputedly shot at on two separate occasions. This from Aidan Chambers aforementioned, much revered Haunted Houses, 1971.

"London's most famous nineteenth-century haunting took place in a house in fashionable Mayfair: at 50 Berkeley Square. For a time people used to come and stare at the building and speculate about the ghost — a ghost so horrible that the owner of the house left it deserted for many years.

Few who saw the ghost lived to tell the tale. Lord Lyttleton was one of the few who did. He belonged to a family who were called "the most haunted family in England". And he spent a night in the second-floor room at 50 Berkeley Square — the room where the ghost always appeared. He took with him two blunderbuss guns loaded with buckshot and sixpenny pieces. The silver coins were meant as charms to protect him from the evil spectre.

During the night Lord Lyttleton met the ghost. It came into the room and leapt through the air at him. In the nick of time, he managed to raise the gun and fire. The ghost fell like a shot duck to the floor, then seemed to evaporate. Lord Lyttleton could describe no more about the "thing" he had seen, nothing about its looks and shape. It was merely a shadowy presence. But of this he was sure: he had never met a more terrible, more malign ghost in his life."

[dem]

A MURDERED GHOST
A TRICK was recently attempted upon a young woman residing near Denver City, U.S., which has resulted fatally, as too many practical jokes often do. A young man of the neighbourhood disguised himself as a "ghost," of the usual orthodox pattern, and, betaking himself to a forest as the young woman was passing through it, suddenly appeared before her in his unearthly semblance. Nothing daunted, the girl, who had previously been annoyed by similar apparitions, drew a revolver and fired. She had not intended to hit, but only to frighten the ghost; but, unluckily, the ball passed directly through the poor ghost's heart, who fell in the forest dead, the victim of an ill-timed pleasantry.

— The Day's Doings, 17 September 1870

A GHOST STORY.
A GERMAN thought he would play a capital joke on some girls, one fine night recently, by wrapping himself up in a sheet and personating a ghost. All the girls ran away shrieking, and his success led him to repeat the joke several times. However, one more courageous than the rest took out a revolver, with her, and fired at him, wounding him severely. The sympathy of the people favoured the girl, and she has not been arrested. This is a warning to all who delight to play practical jokes.

— The Day's Doings, 3 August 1872

[toff]

I'd say the news items are better than the story by Hugues Lapaire (1869-1967) here.

Challenging a man's bravery and then having him be haunted in the same night seems too transparent, as is requiring him to leave his door unlocked. Shouldn't the setup involve spending a night in a reputedly haunted house? And if you're afraid what a man might do with a gun, why not similarly fear what he might do with his sword or fists? It seems all too contrived.

    A GHOST SHOT BY A GIRL.—A man living at a village near Mobile, on Monday night, attempted to frighten some girls by wrapping a white cloth around his body and personating a ghost. All ran but one, who deliberately pulled out a revolver and fired six shots into the head and body. At the first shot the ghost fell, but she continued firing. She then went home and related the circumstances, and parties returning to the spot found life extinct, two balls having penetrated the forehead, and the other four the region of the heart. The sympathy of the people favored the girl, and she has not been arrested.
Hackettstown Gazette [NJ]. July 26, 1866: 2 col 3.


      —Greenbush boasts of a haunted house, and the appearance of the ghost on Friday night so excited the watchers that in their attempt to shoot the spook the weapon was discharged, and a brother watcher was shot in the leg. The ghost escaped.
"Local Nots." Glens Falls Times [NY]. March 13, 1883: [4?] col 2. [The Village of Greenbush became the City of Rensselaer, Rensselaer County, New York in 1897.]

FEAR, A SHORT STORY

—

(By Hugues Lapaire.)

    LIEUT. HARRIMAN lit his pipe, threw himself into an easy chair, put his booted feet on the mantelpiece and continued the conversation with his friends, Lieuts. von Knoll and Karl Mueller.
    “I still insist,” said Harriman, “that you are not always master of your ‘fear.’”
    “Hah,” replied von Knoll, “it is simply a question of will power.”
    An enigmatical smile played about Harriman’s lips.
    He removed his pipe and said: “I do not know a single person who is able to boast that he has never known fear.”
    “Well, I do,” said Mueller.
    “You mean to say Karl, that you have never for a single moment felt fear?” asked Harriman.
    “Never,” said Mueller emphatically.
    “Then I will wager you a champagne supper that you will know what fear means, before this night is over.”
    Mueller laughed aloud.
    “It is very generous of you to invite Von Knoll and me to an excellent supper at Grumbers. You know my temperament and you not only warn me that you will scare me, but even tell me when and where. It is too easy.”
    “Then you accept the bet?” asked Harriman.
    “Of course. If you feel like paying for the supper, I would not deprive you of the pleasure.”
    “It is a bet then, and the only thing I now ask you is to leave your bedroom door unlocked.”
    They emptied their steins and as Mueller shook Harriman’s hand before they separated, he said jokingly: “Good night old manufacturer of terror.”

* * *

    Karl Mueller was sleeping soundly, when suddenly he thought he heard his chamber door open. He opened his eyes.
    A white figure wrapped in white sheets entered the room. Mueller immediately thought of his bet with Harriman and smiled at the sight of this ghost that slowly walked up and placed itself at the foot of his bed.
    “So that is the best you can do, Harriman,” he exclaimed with a laugh. I had better thoughts of your inventive genius. Now drop that sheet and stop playing ghost. You see I am calm, perfectly calm that you have lost your bet and had better go to bed. I am going to sleep. Goodnight, “old boy.”
    He turned around and closed his eyes. A clock struck twelve. The ghost remained, motionless at the foot of the bed.
    A few moments after Karl Mueller, whose sleep was disturbed by the feeling of the presence of somebody in his room, again opened his eyes and saw the ghost still in the same place.
    “Now it is enough, Harriman,” he cried petulantly. “Of course you are annoyed because you have failed, but I do not believe in the supernatural. Go to bed.”
    The ghost did not move.
    “Harriman,” cried Mueller and sat up in bed. “I tell you I am in no humor to be hoaxed. I beg you to leave my room.”
    The ghost stood as if petrified.
    “Harriman,” shouted Mueller now quite furiously, “don’t make me lose my patience. Leave me alone.”
    Still the ghost did not budge. Thoroughly angry Mueller picked up his revolver from a table at his bedside.
    “Harriman,” he gasped hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot with fury, “if you do not leave this room before I count three, I swear I am going to shoot.”
    The ghost remained motionless.
    “One!—Two!—Harruman go away, I beg for the last time. I am going to shoot.—Three!—It was your own fault.”
    He aimed carefully at the ghost and pressed the trigger, then closed his eyes, terrified at what he had done. When he opened them again, he felt mortally afraid for the first time in his life. The ghost was still there, erect, motionless as before. How was it possible? Could he have missed? He jumped out of bed fired a second shot, aiming even more carefully only to discover that, like all other ghosts, this one was invulnerable. Beads of cold perspiration covered his forehead, fear choked his voice in his throat, and only when he had fired a third shot he found strength to scream.
    The ghost did not move.
    He threw his smoking revolver on the floor and dropped into a chair. At this moment Lieut. von Knoll burst into the room roaring with laughter and holding a candle in his hand and Harriman dropped the sheet in which he had shrouded himself. “There is the man who does not know fear, he cried. “Look at him, Knoll. Is he pale enough? You look like a ghost yourself, Mueller, and you owe us a champagne supper.”
    The distorted features of Mueller gave no sign of relaxing.
    “Come, come now, Karl, pick yourself together. There is no secrecy about our little joke. You fired at me all right but I had been careful to remove the bullets from your revolver. All the cartridges were blank. Do you understand now?”
    With staring eyes and foaming lips, stark mad now Mueller jumped up and before his friends could stop him he snatched his sword and rushed out into the street yelling at the top of his voice: “The ghost! The ghost!”
El Paso Herald. November 26, 1912: 4 col 6.

[ripper]

In 1816 a guard at the Tower of London was terrified by the ghost of a bear. He hit it with his bayonet--presumably affixed to his musket--but it went clean through the bear and stuck into the door. The guard was so scared that he later died. The bear was given the name Old Martin.