Buzz
The term “humbug” emerged in 1751, essentially meaning deceit and fraud. Describing someone, such as P.T. Barnum, as a humbug suggests they are a master of deception and trickery, a title Barnum undoubtedly earned. Below are ten notable hoaxes, scams, and cons from the 19th century, each a perfect example of pure humbug.
10. The Elusive Missing Links
Charles Waterton’s 1825 publication Wanderings in South America gained acclaim for its vivid accounts of his journeys to Guiana, detailing the people, landscapes, plants, and wildlife he encountered. Written more as an engaging travel narrative than a scientific document, it nonetheless motivated numerous scientists and adventurers to explore Guiana. However, one element of the book sparked debate. Waterton, renowned for his taxidermy skills, brought back numerous preserved specimens from his travels, showcasing them in his home as a public museum.
The book’s frontispiece featured an illustration of a unique specimen—referred to as the “Nondescript.” This creature had a strikingly human-like face atop a monkey-like body. Waterton explained that he hadn’t preserved the entire animal due to its size but noted it possessed a monkey-like tail when he found it.
Following the book’s release, rumors began to circulate. Some claimed the Nondescript was actually a native man Waterton had killed, not a monkey. Allegations suggested he bribed customs officials to smuggle the head into the country and was showcasing it as evidence of his crime. Many believed professionals turned a blind eye to protect Waterton, while his friends were reportedly concerned about his mental and ethical well-being.
These rumors were entirely false. Experts who inspected the specimen confirmed it was a skillfully crafted howler monkey. Charles Waterton’s reputation as a highly skilled taxidermist was well-deserved.
9. Everyone Started as a Baby
Joice Heth spent her entire life in slavery and was remarkably old—reportedly 161 years old when she was exhibited in 1835. Even more astonishing, she was claimed to have been the nursemaid of George Washington himself.
This incredible claim was promoted in newspapers, often supported by supposed expert endorsements. During her appearances, Heth would recount her life as a slave and share anecdotes about a young George Washington, even singing ancient nursery songs she allegedly used to soothe the future president.
P.T. Barnum was the mastermind behind Heth’s fame, having acquired her from a less prominent showman. Barnum fabricated the “expert opinions” sent to newspapers to drum up interest. When public fascination waned, he anonymously claimed Heth was a mechanical creation made of whalebone and leather, reigniting curiosity and drawing crowds back to her exhibitions.
8. Crafting a Convincing Tale (And Proving It) Is No Easy Feat
In the 19th century, newspapers were prime targets for hoaxes due to their fierce competition to break news first. Many publications rushed to print sensational stories without thorough verification, fearing rivals might beat them to the punch.
Amid this climate, on April 13, 1844, The New York Sun published a shocking account of a manned balloon crossing the North Atlantic in just three days. The article claimed the balloon was built by renowned enthusiasts like Monck Mason and Robert Holland, who had previously flown from London to Weilberg, Germany. The team aimed to travel from Wales to France but was diverted by strong winds, discovering an air current that propelled them across the ocean swiftly, revolutionizing international travel.
The public was captivated, newspapers flew off the shelves, but two days later, the Sun confessed the story was fabricated. Though short-lived, the infamous “Balloon Hoax” achieved its purpose: Edgar Allen Poe, struggling with a sick wife and mother, earned much-needed money by selling the tale to the paper.
7. A Timeless Classic
The Tower of London once served as a home for exotic animals gifted to English royalty by foreign dignitaries, including lions, tigers, and elephants. For centuries, it also functioned as a public zoo, allowing ordinary Londoners to marvel at these rare creatures. Around 1680, a tradition began where gullible individuals were told that the Tower’s lions were washed annually on April 1, and they were encouraged to witness this spectacle. Every year, crowds gathered on April 1, only to be disappointed when the event never occurred.
One might assume the prank would lose its charm over time, but in March 1860, an anonymous prankster distributed official-looking cards to a large number of people. The cards stated:
Tower of London.—Admit the Bearer and Friend to view the Annual Ceremony of Washing the White Lions, on Sunday, April 1st, 1860. Admitted only at the White Gate. It is particularly requested that no gratuities be given to the Wardens or their Assistants.
As expected, that Sunday, crowds filled the streets searching for the nonexistent “White Gate.” Even if it had existed, it wouldn’t have mattered—all the Tower’s animals had been relocated to a zoo 25 years prior.
6. A Man of Remarkable Achievements
James Barry’s career was nothing short of extraordinary. As an assistant surgeon in the army, he championed significant medical reforms to enhance the well-being of soldiers, military prisoners, and leprosy patients. In 1826, Barry performed the first successful cesarean section and later rose to the position of inspector general of military hospitals. Known for his fiery temper, he engaged in multiple duels and faced accusations of a homosexual relationship with Lord Charles Somerset, leading to a libel case. Despite these controversies, Barry was widely respected as a skilled surgeon and regarded as a multifaceted individual.
Barry succumbed to dysentery at 76 in 1865 during a London epidemic. It was only after his death that the truth emerged—Barry was actually a woman named Margaret Ann Bulkley, the niece of the renowned artist and professor James Barry from London’s Royal Academy. With the help of her mother and her uncle’s friends, Margaret had assumed the male identity of James Barry to attend medical school, fully embracing her new persona and never reverting to her original identity.
5. The Ultimate Zoo Breakout
On November 9, 1874, The New York Herald shocked readers with a front-page story claiming that every dangerous animal in the zoo had escaped and was roaming the city, attacking anyone outdoors. The chaos reportedly began when a careless zookeeper provoked a rhinoceros, which broke free and fatally gored him. Efforts to recapture the rhino inadvertently freed other animals, unleashing lions, tigers, elephants, bears, and hyenas into the streets. The article detailed tragic deaths and heroic acts, such as General Dix shooting a leopard and gambler-politician John Morrisey delivering a fatal punch to a tiger.
The story caused widespread panic, with people barricading themselves indoors. Ironically, the article’s final paragraph revealed, “Of course, the entire story above is a complete fabrication. Not a single word is true, and none of the events described actually occurred.” To the editor’s dismay, the hoax highlighted that many readers never read articles to the end.
4. A Name Doesn’t Change Its Nature
In 1874, a letter published in newspapers and magazines across the U.S. and Europe sparked widespread fascination. It described a rare, carnivorous plant allegedly discovered on the island of Madagascar—a tree that devoured humans.
The letter’s supposed author, Karl Leche, depicted the plant as having a thick, pineapple-like trunk with enormous leaves lined with fang-like structures. These leaves could supposedly close around anything placed atop the plant. Leche claimed to have witnessed locals offering a sacrificial victim to the tree, which took 10 days to digest everything but the bones.
However, Karl Leche was a fictional character. The story was later traced to a journalist named Edmund Spencer. Despite this revelation, adventurers spent the next six decades searching Madagascar for the mythical plant.
3. The Original Crocodile Dundee
In 1898, Louis de Rougemont became synonymous with adventure. Through a series of articles in The Wide World Magazine, later compiled into a book, he captivated readers with tales of his 30 years living among Australian natives. His stories included surviving an octopus attack, being stranded after a canoe battle, riding sea turtles, training pelicans to fish, living with cannibals, escaping alligators, and using stilts to intimidate enemies.
Rougemont faced frequent accusations of fraud, though his publishers often defended him. His downfall came unexpectedly when his wife and children, whom he had abandoned in Sydney in 1897, came forward. His real name was Henri Louis Grin, and he had married Eliza Ravenscroft in 1882, fathering seven children before disappearing with a bushman’s diary that became the basis for his fictional adventures.
2. A Story Too Incredible to Believe
One of the most popular ghost stories of the 19th century involved Silas Weir Mitchell, a renowned Philadelphia physician, and an unexpected visit from a young girl.
On a frigid winter night, Mitchell heard a knock at his door. Answering it, he found a frail, trembling girl wrapped in a tattered shawl. She begged him to help her ailing mother. Despite the late hour, Mitchell followed her into the cold. Upon arriving at a small apartment, he recognized the sick woman as a former employee. Diagnosing her with pneumonia, he arranged for medicine and comforted her, praising her courageous daughter. The woman, however, revealed her daughter had died a month earlier. Mitchell noticed the girl’s shawl on a shelf—dry and warm, impossible to have been worn in the harsh weather.
Though compelling, the story was entirely fabricated by Mitchell, who shared it at a medical meeting. From there, it spread through gossip and publications, becoming widely known. Despite Mitchell’s later attempts to debunk it, the tale persisted. Even 35 years after his death, people still believed it was true, and Mitchell spent his life fielding questions about the nonexistent ghost.
Ironically, Mitchell was haunted by a ghost that never existed.
1. The Legendary Centenarian Soldier
On April 3, 1877, New York City mourned the loss of Captain Frederick Lahrbush, who reportedly died at the remarkable age of 111. Lahrbush arrived in New York in 1848, claiming to have been born in London on March 9, 1766. He recounted a storied military career, including serving with the Duke of York in 1793, witnessing General Humbert’s surrender to Lord Cornwallis in 1798, capturing Copenhagen with Nelson in 1801, attending a pivotal meeting between Napoleon and Alexander, fighting under the Duke of Wellington from 1808 to 1810, and guarding Napoleon at St. Helena, where he allegedly befriended the deposed emperor.
Incredibly, Lahrbush seemed to have been present at every major military event since his birth before settling in New York at 82. New Yorkers adored him, granting him a reserved church seat and hosting visits from prominent Englishmen and high-ranking military officials.
While Lahrbush was indeed elderly, he was far from the age he claimed. He was never a captain, nor had he participated in the historic battles he described. His military service lasted only nine years, and his tales of meeting Napoleon were pure fiction.
It’s unclear whether New Yorkers truly believed Lahrbush’s elaborate tales or simply relished the richness of his fabrications. Lahrbush also delighted in distributing “authentic” locks of Napoleon’s hair as tokens of gratitude to his benefactors. Each recipient believed they possessed the sole relic, leading to ongoing confusion in verifying genuine strands of the emperor’s hair to this day.
