Georgia's Ghosts

Young Godfrey Barnsley was an upstart, eager to become another rich landowner in the South. Nothing ever came easy for Godfrey, though, and meeting his lofty expectations for himself was no small undertaking. Upon finding 4,000 acres of cheap land outside of Adairsville in northwestern Georgia, Godfrey knew then that he couldn't do this all alone. So he purchased 100 human beings.

It should also be noted that Godfrey's new lands were, by treaty, the property of Cherokee Indians. Thankfully, he had connections that easily alleviated this minor matter, revoking that outdated document and relocating those Indians elsewhere. Like most things involving Godfrey's undertaking, more troubles arose-The land wasn't as easily addressed as the Cherokee....

Working from dusk to dawn (the slaves, not Godfrey-he had other matters to attend), the heavily forested terrain proved most difficult to cultivate and marshy, infested with black flies and mosquitoes that spread malaria. The sickness and loss of his workers severely hampered Godfrey's plans, but soon, drained and cleared, his lands were producing some of the finest cotton the South had to offer.

Ever keen to opportunity, Godfrey then turned his attention to eliminating all middlemen in order to maximize his profits. Building a railroad extension to connect his fields with the ports of Savannah, then a full fleet of ships to bring his offerings to New York and Europe, Godfrey-and Adairsville-were officially on the map by the early 1840s.

At last rich and renowned for his vision and cotton, the only thing Godfrey Barnsley could not control was his heart. He fell madly in love with a Savannah belle named Julia. After their wedding, Godfrey set about building his bride a home almost as beautiful as her. A red-brick Italian villa overlooking their vast acreage in Adairsville, surrounded by gardens based on the designs of architect Andrew Jackson Downing, best known for the White House Rose Gardens and the Mall of Washington, D.C. These gardens would give the estate its name: "Barnsley Gardens."

Sadly, Julia would never see it. Suffering from tuberculosis, she died in Savannah a year before Barnsley Gardens was completed. Undeterred, Godfrey continued, adding to his estate land and human holdings, up to and throughout the Civil War. He was the undisputed cotton king: Even Sherman's March could not raze Godfrey's creation.

One Confederate soldier wasn't so lucky. He was shot dead by a sniper as he approached the plantation to warn of the Union's advance. Hiding in the root cellar until the troops passed, Godfrey emerged and heroically declared that the soldier be buried where he fell and a marker placed as a reminder of his gallantry.

Sadly, the end of the Civil War meant that of Godfrey Barnsley. His loyal labor taken away, his fine crop wasting in the fields, this titan of Southern ingenuity would die penniless. His home would suffer a similar fate: The entire roof was torn away by a tornado in 1906, leaving it exposed and soon only ruins.

A charming yet obnoxious golf resort now sprawls where Godfrey's vision, cotton and garden once bloomed. Maybe to attract tourists, reports of ghosts are also frequent, and newlyweds taking pictures at the villa's ruins often find curious spectral images in the background. Godfrey-and it seems Julia too-still inhabit Barnsley Gardens.

The picture below was taken in June of this year, unwittingly clicked at midnight after touring the ruins and gardens. Is that Godfrey in the lower left, staring out? Is that Julia kneeling-praying perhaps-center-left? And what or who are those larger forms surrounding, filling the frame? Arms extending, enclosing, enraged, this photo begs the question: Are slaves allowed to pose alongside their masters in the afterlife?