One of the most stupendous hoaxes, and one foisted on the credulity of
the public with the most complete success, was the famous Moon Hoax
which was published in the pages of the New York _Sun_ in 1835. It
purported to be an account of the great astronomical discoveries of
Sir John Herschel at the Cape of Good Hope, through the medium of a
mighty telescope, a single lens of which weighed nearly seven tons.
It was stated to be reproduced from the Supplement to the Edinburgh
_Journal of Science_, though as a matter of fact, the _Journal_ had
then been defunct some years. In graphic language, and with a wealth
of picturesque detail, the wonders of the Moon as revealed to the
great astronomer and his assistants were set forth. A great inland
sea was observed, and “fairer shores never angel coasted on a tour
of pleasure.” The beach was “of brilliant white sand, girt with wild
castellated rocks apparently of green marble, varied at chasms,
occurring every two hundred feet, with grotesque blocks of chalk or
gypsum, and feathered and festooned at the summit with the clustering
foliage of unknown trees.” There were hills of amethysts “of a diluted
claret colour”; mountains fringed with virgin gold; herds of brown
quadrupeds resembling diminutive bison fitted with a sort of “hairy
veil” to protect their eyes from the extremes of light and darkness;
strange monsters--a combination of unicorn and goat; pelicans, cranes,
strange amphibious creatures, and a remarkable biped beaver. The last
was said to resemble the beaver of the earth excepting that it had
no tail and walked only upon its two feet. It carried its young in
its arms like a human-being, and its huts were constructed better and
higher than those of many savage tribes; and, from the smoke, there was
no doubt it was acquainted with the use of fire. Another remarkable
animal observed, was described as having an amazingly long neck, a head
like a sheep, bearing two spiral horns, a body like a deer, but with
its fore-legs disproportionately long as also its tail which was very
bushy and of a snowy whiteness, curling high over its rump and hanging
two or three feet by its side.
But even these marvels fade into insignificance compared with the
discovery of the lunarian men “four feet in height, covered, except
on the face, with short and glossy copper-coloured hair, with wings
composed of a thin membrane.” “In general symmetry they were infinitely
superior to the orang-outang”--which statement could hardly have
been regarded as complimentary; and, though described as “doubtless
innocent and happy creatures,” the praise was rather discounted by
the mention that some of their amusements would “but ill comport with
our terrestrial notions of decorum.” In the “Vale of the Triads,”
with beautiful temples built of polished sapphire, a superior race of
the punariant were found, “eminently happy and even polite,” eating
gourds and red cucumbers; and further afield yet another race of the
vespertilio-homo, or man-bat, were seen through the wonderful telescope
of “infinitely greater personal beauty ... scarcely less lovely than
the general representation of angels.”
Such were a few of the marvels told of in the Moon story; and, though
one may laugh at them as they stand, shorn of their clever verbiage and
quasi-scientific detail, at the time of publication they were seriously
accepted, for the popular mind, even among the educated classes, was
then imbued with the fanciful anticipators of vast lunar discoveries
heralded in the astronomical writings of Thomas Dick, LL.D., of the
Union College of New York. Scarcely anything could have been brought
forward too extravagant for the general credulity on the subject then
prevailing; and this well-timed satire, “out-heroding Herod” in its
imaginative creations, supplied to satiety the morbid appetite for
scientific wonders then raging. By its plausible display of scientific
erudition it successfully duped, with few exceptions, the whole
civilised world.
At the time, the hoax was very generally attributed to a French
astronomer, M. Nicollet, a legitimist who fled to America in 1830. He
was said to have written it with the twofold object of raising the
wind, and of “taking in” Arago, a rival astronomer. But its real author
was subsequently found to be Richard Adams Locke, who declared that
his original intention was to satirise the extravagances of Dick’s
writings, and to make certain suggestions which he had some diffidence
in putting forward seriously. Whatever may have been his object, the
work, as a hit, was unrivalled. For months the press of America and
Europe teemed with the subject; the account was printed and published
in many languages and superbly illustrated. But, finally, Sir John
Herschel’s signed denial gave the mad story its quietus.