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[page 112, continued:]
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN.
MR. CHARLES
FENNO HOFFMAN has been
long known
to the public as an author. He commenced his literary career (as
is usually the case in America) by writing for the newspapers — for
"The
New York American" especially, in the editorial conduct of which he
became
in some manner associated, at a very early age, with Mr. Charles
King.
His first book, I believe, was a collection (entitled "A Winter
in the West") of letters published in "The American" during a tour made
by their author through the "far West." This work appeared in 1834,
went
through several editions, was reprinted in London, was very popular,
and
deserved its popularity. It conveys the natural enthusiasm of
a
true idealist, in the proper phrenological sense, of one
sensitively
alive to beauty in every development. Its scenic descriptions are
vivid, because fresh, genuine, unforced. There is nothing of the
cant of the tourist for the sake not of nature but of tourism.
The
author writes what he feels, and, clearly, because he
feels
it. The style, [page 113:] as well as that
of
all Mr. Hoffman's books, is easy, free from superfluities, and,
although
abundant in broad phrases, still singularly refined,
gentlemanly.
This ability to speak boldly without blackguardism, to use the tools of
the rabble when necessary without soiling or roughening the hands with
their employment, is a rare and unerring test of the natural in
contradistinction
from the artificial aristocrat.
Mr. H.'s next work was "Wild
Scenes in the
Forest and Prairie," very similar to the preceding, but more
diversified
with anecdote and interspersed with poetry. "Greyslaer" followed,
a romance based on the well known murder of Sharp, the
Solicitor-General
of Kentucky, by Beauchampe. W. Gilmore Simms, (who has far more
power,
more passion, more movement, more skill than Mr. Hoffman) has treated
the
subject more effectively in his novel "Beauchampe;" but the fact is
that
both gentlemen have positively failed, as might have been
expected.
That both books are interesting is no merit either of Mr. H. or of Mr.
S. The real events were more impressive than are the fictitious
ones.
The facts of this remarkable tragedy, as arranged by actual
circumstance,
would put to shame the skill of the most consummate artist.
Nothing
was left to the novelist but the amplification of character, and
at this point neither the author of "Greyslaer" nor of "Beauchampe" is
especially au fait. The incidents might be better woven
into
a tragedy.
In the way of poetry, Mr.
Hoffman has also
written a good deal. "The Vigil of Faith and other Poems" is the
title of a volume published several years ago. The subject of the
leading poem is happy — whether originally conceived by Mr. H. or based
on an actual superstition, I cannot say. Two Indian chiefs are
rivals
in love. The accepted lover is about to be made happy, when his
betrothed
is murdered by the discarded suitor. The revenge taken is the
careful preservation of the life of the assassin, under the
idea that the
meeting the maiden in another world is the point most desired by both
the
survivors. The incidents interwoven are picturesque, and there
are
many quotable passages; the descriptive portions are particularly good;
but the author has erred, first, in narrating the story in the first
person,
and secondly, in putting into the mouth of the narrator language and [page
114:] sentiments above the nature of an Indian. I say that
the
narration should not have been in the first person, because, although
an
Indian may and does fully experience a thousand delicate shades of
sentiment,
(the whole idea of the story is essentially sentimental), still he has,
clearly, no capacity for their various expression. Mr.
Hoffman's
hero is made to discourse very much after the manner of Rousseau.
Nevertheless, "The Vigil of Faith" is, upon the whole, one of our most
meritorious poems. The shorter pieces in the collection have been
more popular; one or two of the songs particularly so —
"Sparkling
and Bright," for example, which is admirably adapted to song purposes,
and is full of lyric feelings. It cannot be denied, however,
that,
in general, the whole tone, air and spirit of Mr. Hoffman's fugitive
compositions
are echoes of Moore. At times the very words and figures of the
"British
Anacreon" are unconsciously adopted. Neither can there be any
doubt
that this obvious similarity, if not positive imitation, is the source
of the commendation bestowed upon our poet by "The Dublin University
Magazine,"
which declares him "the best song writer in America," and does him also
the honor to intimate its opinion that "he is a better fellow than the
whole Yankee crew" of us taken together — after which there is very
little
to be said.
Whatever may be the merits of
Mr. Hoffman
as
a poet, it may be easily seen that these merits have been put in the
worst
possible light by the indiscriminate and lavish approbation bestowed on
them by Dr. Griswold in his "Poets and Poetry of America." The editor
can
find no blemish in Mr. H., agrees with everything and copies
everything
said in his praise — worse than all, gives him more space in the book
than
any two, or perhaps three, of our poets combined. All this is as
much an insult to Mr. Hoffman as to the public, and has done the former
irreparable injury — how or why, it is of course unnecessary to
say.
"Heaven save us from our friends !"
Mr. Hoffman was the original
editor of "The
Knickerbocker Magazine," and gave it while under his control a tone and
character, the weight of which may be best estimated by the
consideration
that the work thence received, an impetus which has sufficed to bear it
on alive, although tottering, month after month, [page 115:]
through even that dense region of unmitigated and unmitigable fog —
that
dreary realm of outer darkness, of utter and inconceivable
dunderheadism,
over which has so long ruled King Log the Second, in the august person
of one Lewis Gaylord Clark. Mr. Hoffman subsequently owned and
edited
"The American Monthly Magazine," one of the best journals we have ever
had. He also for one year conducted "The New York Mirror," and
has
always been a very constant contributor to the periodicals of the day.
He is the brother of Ogden
Hoffman.
Their
father, whose family came to New York from Holland before the time of
Peter
Stuyvesant, was often brought into connexion or rivalry with such men
as
Pinckney, Hamilton and Burr.
The character of no man is more
universally
esteemed and admired than that of the subject of this memoir. He
has a host of friends, and it is quite impossible that he should have
an
enemy in the world. He is chivalric to a fault, enthusiastic,
frank
without discourtesy, an ardent admirer of the beautiful, a gentleman of
the
best school — a gentleman by birth, by education and by
instinct.
His manners are graceful and winning in the extreme — quiet, affable
and
dignified, yet cordial and dégagés. He converses
much,
earnestly, accurately and well. In person he is remarkably
handsome.
He is about five feet ten in height, somewhat stoutly made. His
countenance
is a noble one — a full index of the character. The features are
somewhat
massive but regular. The eyes are blue, or light gray, and full
of
fire; the mouth finely formed, although the lips have a slight
expression
of voluptuousness; the forehead, to my surprise, although high [[,]]
gives
no indication, in the region of the temples, of that ideality (or love
of the beautiful) which is the distinguishing trait of his moral
nature.
The hair curls, and is of a dark brown, interspersed with gray. He
wears
full whiskers. Is about forty years of age. Unmarried. [page
116:]
[[~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~]]
MARY E. HEWITT.
I AM not
aware that Mrs.
Hewitt
has written any prose; but her poems have been many, and occasionally
excellent.
A collection of them was published, in an exquisitely tasteful form, by
Ticknor & Co., of Boston. The leading piece, entitled "Songs
of our Land," although the largest, was by no means the most
meritorious.
In general, these compositions evince poetic fervor, classicism, and
keen
appreciation of both moral and physical beauty. No one of them,
perhaps,
can be judiciously commended as a whole; but no one of them is without
merit, and there are several which would do credit to any poet in the
land.
Still, even these latter are particularly rather than generally
commendable.
They lack unity, totality — ultimate effect, but abound in forcible
passages.
For example:
Shall I portray thee in thy
glorious
seeming,
Thou that the pharos of my darkness
art ? . . .
.
Like the blue lotos on its own
clear
river
Lie thy soft eyes, beloved, upon my
soul. . . .
.
And there the slave, a slave no
more,
Hung reverent up the chain he wore. .
. . .
Here 'mid your wild and dark
defile
O'erawed and
wonder-whelmed I
stand,
And ask — "Is this the fearful
vale
That opens on the
shadowy land
?"
. . . .
Oh, friends ! we would be
treasured
still,
Though Time's cold
hand should
cast
His misty veil, in after years,
Over the idol
Past,
Yet send to us some offering
thought
O'er Memory's
ocean wide,
Pure as the Hindoo's votive lamp
On Ganga's sacred
tide. |
Mrs. Hewitt has warm partialities for
the sea and
all that concerns it. Many of her best poems turn upon sea
adventures
or have reference to a maritime life. Some portions of her
"God bless the Mariner" are naïve and picturesque: e.g. —
God bless the happy mariner !
A homely garb
wears he,
And he goeth with a rolling gait,
Like a ship
before the sea. [page
117:]
He hath piped the loud "ay, ay,
Sir !"
O'er the voices of
the main
Till his deep tones have the
hoarseness
Of the rising
hurricane.
But oh, a spirit looketh
From out his clear
blue eye,
With a truthful childlike earnestness,
Like an angel
from the sky.
A venturous life the sailor leads
Between the
sky and sea,
But, when the hour of dread is past,
A merrier who than
he ? |
The tone of some quatrains entitled
"Alone,"
differs
materially from that usual with Mrs. Hewitt. The idea is happy
and
well managed.
Mrs. Hewitt's sonnets are upon the
whole, her
most
praiseworthy compositions. One entitled "Hercules and
Omphale"
is noticeable for the vigor of its rhythm.
Reclined, enervate, on the couch
of ease,
No more he pants
for deeds of
high
emprize;
For Pleasure holds
in soft
voluptuous
ties
Enthralled, great Jove-descended
Hercules.
The hand that bound the Erymanthean
boar,
Hesperia's dragon
slew with
bold intent,
That from his
quivering side
in triumph
rent
The skin the Cleonœan lion wore,
Holds forth the goblet — while the
Lydian queen,
Robed like a
nymph, her brow
enwreathed
with vine,
Lifts high the
amphora brimmed
with
rosy wine,
And pours the draught the
crownéd cup
within.
And thus the soul, abased to sensual
sway,
Its worth forsakes — its might
foregoes for aye. |
The unusual force of the line
italicized, will be
observed. This force arises first, from the directness, or
colloquialism
without vulgarity, of its expression: — (the relative pronoun "which"
is
very happily omitted between "skin" and "the") — and, secondly, to the
musical repetition of the vowel in "Cleonœan," together with the
alliterative terminations in "Cleonœan" and "lion." The
effect,
also, is much aided by the sonorous conclusion "wore."
Another and better instance of fine
versification
occurs in "Forgotten Heroes."
And the peasant mother at her
door,
To the babe that
climbed her
knee,
Sang aloud the land's heroic songs
—
Sang of
Thermopylæ —
Sang of Mycale — of Marathon — [page 118:]
Of proud
Platæa's day
—
Till the wakened hills from peak to
peak
Echoed the
glorious lay.
Oh, god like name ! — oh, god like
deed !
Song-borne afar
on every
breeze,
Ye are sounds to thrill like a battle
shout,
Leonidas !
Miltiades ! |
The general intention here is a line
of four
iambuses
alternating with a line of three; but, less through rhythmical skill
than
a musical ear, the poetess has been led into some exceedingly happy
variations
of the theme. For example; -- in place of the ordinary iambus as
the first foot of the first, of the second, and of the third line, a
bastard
iambus has been employed. These lines are thus scanned:
An4d th4e
peas
| a2nt moth | e2r
at
| he2r door |
To4
th4e
babe | tha2t climbed | he2r
knee |
Sa4ng al4oud
| the2
land's | he2ro | i2c
songs | |
The fourth line,
| Sang o2f
|
The2rmo
| py2læ, |
is well varied by a trochee, instead of an iambus, in
the first
foot;
and the variation expresses forcibly the enthusiasm excited by the
topic
of the supposed songs, "Thermophylæ". The fifth line is
scanned
as the three first. The sixth is the general intention, and
consists
simply of iambuses. The seventh is like the three first and
the fifth. The eighth is like the fourth; and here again the
opening
trochee is admirably adapted to the movement of the
topic.
The ninth is the general intention, and is formed of four
iambuses.
The tenth is an alternating line and yet has four iambuses, instead of
the usual three; as has also the final line — and alternating one, too.
A fuller volume is in this manner given to the close of the subject;
and
this volume is fully in keeping with the rising enthusiasm. The
last
line but one has two bastard iambuses, thus:
| Ye4 ar4e
sounds
| to2 thrill | lik4e a4
bat | tl2e shout | . |
Upon the whole, it may be said that
the most
skilful
versifer could not have written lines better suited to the purposes of
the [page 119:] poet. The errors of "Alone,"
however, and of Mrs. Hewitt's poems generally, show that we must regard
the beauties pointed out above, merely in the light to which I have
already
alluded — that is to say, as occasional happiness to which the poetess
is led by a musical ear.
I should be doing this lady injustice
were I not
to mention that, at times, she rises into a higher and purer region of
poetry than might be supposed, or inferred, from any of the passages
which
I have hitherto quoted. The conclusion of her "Ocean Tide to the
Rivulet" puts me in mind of the rich spirit of Horne's noble epic,
"Orion."
Sadly the flowers their faded
petals
close
Where on thy banks they languidly
repose,
Waiting in vain to
hear thee
onward
press;
And pale Narcissus by thy margin
side
Hath lingered for thy coming, drooped
and
died,
Pining for thee
amid the
loneliness.
Hasten, beloved ! — here,
'neath the
o'erhanging rock
!
Hark ! from the deep, my
anxious hope to
mock,
They call me
back unto my
parent
main.
Brighter than Thetis thou — and, ah,
more
fleet !
I hear the rushing of thy fair
white feet!
Joy! joy ! —
my breast
receives
its own again !
|
The personifications here are
well
managed.
The "Here ! — 'neath the o'erhanging rock !" has the high merit of
being
truthfully, by which I mean naturally, expressed, and imparts
exceeding
vigor to the whole stanza. The idea of the ebb-tide, conveyed in
the second line italicized, is one of the happiest imaginable; and too
much praise can scarcely be bestowed on the "rushing" of the "fair
white
feet." The passage altogether is full of fancy, earnestness, and
the truest poetic strength. Mrs. Hewitt has given many such
indications
of a fire which, with more earnest endeavor, might be readily fanned
into
flame.
In character, she is sincere,
fervent,
benevolent
— sensitive to praise and to blame; in temperament melancholy; in
manner
subdued; converses earnestly yet quietly. In person she is tall
and
slender, with black hair and large gray eyes; complexion dark; general
expression of the countenance singularly interesting and agreeable. [page
120:]
[[~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~]]
RICHARD ADAMS LOCKE.
ABOUT
twelve years
ago,
I think, "The New York Sun," a daily paper, price one penny, was
established
in the city of New York by Mr. Moses Y. Beach, who engaged MR.
RICHARD ADAMS LOCKE
as its editor. In a well-written prospectus, the object of the
journal
professed to be that of "supplying the public with the news of the day
at so cheap a rate as to lie within the means of all." The consequences
of the scheme, in their influence on the whole newspaper business of
the
country, and through this business on the interests of the country at
large,
are probably beyond all calculation.
Previous to "The Sun," there
had been an
unsuccessful
attempt at publishing a penny paper in New York, and "The Sun" itself
was
originally projected and for a short time issued by Messrs. Day
&
Wisner; its establishment, however, is altogether due to Mr.
Beach,
who purchased it of its disheartened originators. The first
decided movement of the journal, nevertheless, is to be
attributed to
Mr. Locke; and
in so saying, I by no means intend any depreciation of Mr. Beach, since
in the engagement of Mr. L. he had but given one of the earliest
instances
of that unusual sagacity for which I am inclined to yield him credit.
At all events, "The Sun" was
revolving in a
comparatively narrow orbit when, one fine day, there appeared in its
editorial
columns a prefatory article announcing very remarkable astronomical
discoveries
made at the Cape of Good Hope by Sir John Herschell. The
information
was said to have been received by "The Sun" from an early copy of "The
Edinburgh Journal of Science," in which appeared a communication from
Sir
John himself. This preparatory announcement took very well, (there had
been no hoaxes in those days,) and was followed by full details of the
reputed discoveries, which were now found to have been made chiefly in
respect to the moon, and by means of a telescope to which the one
lately
constructed by the Earl of Rosse is a plaything. As these
discoveries
were gradually spread before the public, the astonishment of that
public
grew out of all bounds; [page 121:] but those who
questioned
the veracity of "The Sun" — the authenticity of the communication to
"The
Edinburgh Journal of Science" — were really very few indeed; and this I
am forced to look upon as a far more wonderful thing than any "man-bat"
of them all.
About six months before this
occurrence,
the
Harpers had issued an American edition of Sir John Herschell's
"Treatise
on Astronomy," and I had been much interested in what is there said
respecting
the possibility of future lunar investigations. The theme excited
my fancy, and I longed to give free rein to it in depicting my
day-dreams
about the scenery of the moon — in short, I longed to write a story
embodying
these dreams. The obvious difficulty, of course, was that of accounting
for the narrator's acquaintance with the satellite; and the equally
obvious
mode of surmounting the difficulty was the supposition of an
extraordinary
telescope. I saw at once that the chief interest of such a
narrative
must depend upon the reader's yielding his credence in some measure as
to details of actual fact. At this stage of my deliberations, I
spoke
of the design to one or two friends — to Mr. John P. Kennedy, the
author
of "Swallow Barn," among others — and the result of my conversations
with
them was that the optical difficulties of constructing such a telescope
as I conceived were so rigid and so commonly understood, that it would
be in vain to attempt giving due verisimilitude to any fiction having
the
telescope as a basis. Reluctantly, therefore, and only half convinced,
(believing the public, in fact, more readily gullible than did my
friends,)
I gave up the idea of imparting very close verisimilitude to what I
should
write — that is to say, so close as really to deceive. I fell
back
upon a style half plausible, half bantering, and resolved to give what
interest I could to an actual passage from the earth to the moon,
describing
the lunar scenery as if surveyed and personally examined by the
narrator.
In this view I wrote a story which I called "Hans Phaall," publishing
it
about six months afterwards in "The Southern Literary Messenger," of
which
I was then editor.
It was three weeks after the
issue of "The
Messenger" containing "Hans Phaall," that the first of the "Moon-hoax"
editorials made its appearance in "The Sun," and no sooner had I [page
122:] seen the paper than I understood the jest, which not
for
a moment could I doubt had been suggested by my own jeu d'esprit. Some
of the New York journals ("The Transcript" among others) saw the matter
in the same light, and published the "Moon story" side by side with
"Hans
Phaall," thinking that the author of the one had been detected in the
author
of the other. Although the details are, with some exception, very
dissimilar, still I maintain that the general features of the two
compositions
are nearly identical. Both are hoaxes, (although one is
in
a tone of mere banter, the other of downright earnest;) both
hoaxes
are on one subject, astronomy; both on the same point of that subject,
the moon; both professed to have derived exclusive information from a
foreign
country, and both attempt to give plausibility by minuteness of
scientific
detail. Add to all this, that nothing of a similar nature had
ever
been attempted before these two hoaxes, the one of which followed
immediately
upon the heels of the other.
Having stated the case,
however, in this
form,
I am bound to do Mr. Locke the justice to say that he denies having
seen
my article prior to the publication of his own; I am bound to add,
also,
that I believe him.
Immediately on the completion
of the "Moon
story," (it was three or four days in getting finished,) I wrote an
examination
of its claims to credit, showing distinctly its fictitious character,
but
was astonished at finding that I could obtain few listeners, so really
eager were all to be deceived, so magical were the charms of a style
that
served as the vehicle of an exceedingly clumsy invention.
It may afford even now some
amusement to
see
pointed out those particulars of the hoax which should have sufficed to
establish its real character. Indeed, however rich the
imagination
displayed in this fiction, it wanted much of the force which might have
been given it by a more scrupulous attention to general analogy and to
fact. That the public were misled, even for an instant, merely
proves
the gross ignorance which (ten or twelve years ago) was so prevalent on
astronomical topics.
The moon's distance from the
earth is, in
round
numbers, 240,000 miles. If we wish to ascertain how near,
apparently,
a lens would bring the satellite, (or any distant object,) we, of
course,
have but to divide the distance by the magnifying, or, more [page
123:] strictly, by the space-penetrating power of the
glass.
Mr. Locke gives his lens a power of 42,000 times. By this divide
240,000, (the moon's real distance,) and we have five miles and
five-sevenths
as the apparent distance. No animal could be seen so far, much
less
the minute points particularized in the story. Mr. L. speaks
about
Sir John Herschell's perceiving flowers, (the papaver Rheas, etc.,)
and even detecting the color and the shape of the eyes of small birds.
Shortly before, too, the author himself observes that the lens would
not
render perceptible objects less than eighteen inches in diameter; but
even
this, as I have said, is giving the glass far too great a power.
On page 18, (of the pamphlet
edition,)
speaking
of "a hairy veil" over the eyes of a species of bison, Mr. L. says —
"It
immediately occurred to the acute mind of Doctor Herschell that this
was
a providential contrivance to protect the eyes of the animal from the
great
extremes of light and darkness to which all the inhabitants of our side
of the moon are periodically subjected." But this should not be thought
a very "acute" observation of the Doctor's. The inhabitants of
our
side of the moon have, evidently, no darkness at all; in the absence of
the sun they have a light from the earth equal to that of thirteen full
moons, so that there can be nothing of the extremes mentioned.
The topography throughout, even
when
professing
to accord with Blunt's Lunar Chart, is at variance with that and all
other
lunar charts, and even at variance with itself. The points of the
compass, too, are in sad confusion; the writer seeming to be unaware
that,
on a lunar map, these are not in accordance with terrestrial points —
the
east being to the left, and so forth.
Deceived, perhaps, by the vague
titles Mare
Nubium, Mare Tranquilitatis, Mare Fæcunditatis, etc., given
by
astronomers of former times to the dark patches on the moon's surface,
Mr. L. has long details respecting oceans and other large bodies of
water
in the moon; whereas there is no astronomical point more positively
ascertained
than that no such bodies exist there. In examining the boundary
between
light and darkness in a crescent or gibbous moon, where this boundary
crosses
any of the dark places, the line of division is found to be jagged; but
were these dark places liquid, they would evidently be even. [page
124:]
The description of the wings of
the man-bat
(on page 21) is but a literal copy of Peter Wilkins' account of the
wings
of his flying islanders. This simple fact should at least have
induced
suspicion.
On page 23 we read thus — "What
a
prodigious
influence must our thirteen times larger globe have exercised upon this
satellite when an embryo in the womb of time, the passive subject of
chemical
affinity!" Now, this is very fine; but it should be observed that no
astronomer
could have made such a remark, especially to any "Journal of Science,"
for the earth in the sense intended (that of bulk) is not only thirteen
but forty-nine times larger than the moon. A similar
objection
applies to the five or six concluding pages of the pamphlet, where, by
way of introduction to some discoveries in Saturn, the philosophical
correspondent
is made to give a minute school-boy account of that planet — an account
quite supererogatory, it might be presumed, in the case of "The
Edinburgh
Journal of Science."
But there is one point, in
especial, which
should have instantly betrayed the fiction. Let us imagine the
power
really possessed of seeing animals on the moon's surface — what in such
case would first arrest the attention of an observer from the
earth?
Certainly neither the shape, size, nor any other peculiarity in these
animals
so soon as their remarkable position — they would seem to be
walking
heels up and head down, after the fashion of flies on a ceiling.
The real observer (however prepared by previous knowledge) would have
commented
on this odd phenomenon before proceeding to other details; the
fictitious
observer has not even alluded to the subject, but in the case of the
man-bats
speaks of seeing their entire bodies, when it is demonstrable that he
could
have seen little more than the apparently flat hemisphere of the head.
I may as well observe, in
conclusion, that
the size, and especially the powers of the man-bats, (for example,
their
ability to fly in so rare an atmosphere — if, indeed, the moon has
any,)
with most of the other fancies in regard to animal and vegetable
existence,
are at variance generally with all analogical reasoning on these
themes,
and that analogy here will often amount to the most positive
demonstration.
The temperature of the moon, [page 125:] for
instance,
is rather above that of boiling water, and Mr. Locke, consequently, has
committed a serious oversight in not representing his man-bats, his
bisons,
his game of all kinds — to say nothing of his vegetables — as each and
all done to a turn.
It is, perhaps, scarcely
necessary to add,
that all the suggestions attributed to Brewster and Herschell in the
beginning
of the hoax, about the "transfusion of artificial light through the
focal
object of vision," etc., etc., belong to that species of figurative
writing
which comes most properly under the head of rigmarole. There is a
real and very definite limit to optical discovery among the stars, a
limit
whose nature need only be stated to be understood. If, indeed,
the
casting of large lenses were all that is required, the ingenuity of man
would ultimately prove equal to the task, and we might have them of any
size demanded;* but, unhappily, in proportion to
the increase of size
in
the lens, and consequently of space-penetrating power, is the
diminution
of light from the object by diffusion of the rays. And for this
evil
there is no remedy within human reach; for an object is seen by means
of
that light alone, whether direct or reflected, which proceeds from the
object itself. Thus the only artificial light which could avail
Mr.
Locke, would be such as he should be able to throw, not upon "the focal
object of vision," but upon the moon. It has been easily
calculated
that when the light proceeding from a heavenly body becomes so diffused
as to be as weak as the natural light given out by the stars
collectively
in a clear, moonless night, then the heavenly body for any practical
purpose
is no longer visible.
The singular blunders to which
I have
referred
being properly understood, we shall have all the better reason for
wonder
at the prodigious success of the hoax. Not one person in
ten
discredited it, and (strangest point of all!) the doubters were chiefly
those who doubted without being able to say why — the ignorant, those
uninformed
in astronomy, people who would not believe because the thing
was
so novel, so entirely "out of the usual way." A [page 126:]
grave professor of mathematics in a Virginian college told me seriously
that he had no doubt of the truth of the whole affair!
The
great effect wrought upon the public mind is referable, first, to the
novelty of the idea; secondly, to the fancy-exciting and
reason-repressing
character of the alleged discoveries; thirdly, to the consummate tact
with
which the deception was brought forth; fourthly, to the exquisite vraisemblance
of
the narration. The hoax was circulated to an immense extent, was
translated into various languages — was even made the subject of
(quizzical)
discussion in astronomical societies; drew down upon itself the grave
denunciation
of Dick, and was, upon the whole, decidedly the greatest hit in
the way of sensation — of merely popular sensation — ever made
by
any similar fiction either in America or in Europe.
Having read the Moon story to
an end, and
found
it anticipative of all the main points of my "Hans Phaall," I suffered
the latter to remain unfinished. The chief design in carrying my
hero to the moon was to afford him an opportunity of describing the
lunar
scenery, but I found that he could add very little to the minute and
authentic
account of Sir John Herschell. The first part of "Hans Phaall,"
occupying
about eighteen pages of "The Messenger," embraced merely a journal of
the
passage between the two orbs, and a few words of general observation on
the most obvious features of the satellite; the second part will most
probably
never appear. I did not think it advisable even to bring my
voyager
back to his parent earth. He remains where I left him, and is
still,
I believe, "the man in the moon."
From the epoch of the hoax "The
Sun" shone
with unmitigated splendor. The start thus given the paper insured
it a triumph; it has now a daily circulation of not far from fifty
thousand
copies, and is, therefore, probably, the most really influential
journal
of its kind in the world. Its success firmly established "the penny
system"
throughout the country, and (through "The Sun") consequently, we
are indebted to the genius of Mr. Locke for one of the most important
steps
ever yet taken in the pathway of human progress.
On dissolving, about a year
afterwards, his
connexion with Mr. Beach, Mr. Locke established a political daily
paper,
"The New [page 127:] Era," conducting it with
distinguished
ability. In this journal he made, very unwisely, an attempt at a
second hoax, giving the finale of the adventures of Mungo Park
in
Africa — the writer pretending to have come into possession, by some
accident,
of the lost MSS. of the traveler. No one, however, seemed to be
deceived,
(Mr. Locke's columns were a suspected district,) and the adventures
were
never brought to an end. They were richly imaginative.
The next point made by their
author was the
getting up a book on magnetism as the primum mobile of the
universe,
in connexion with Doctor Sherwood, the practitioner of magnetic
remedies.
The more immediate purpose of the treatise was the setting forth a new
magnetic method of obtaining the longitude. The matter was
brought
before Congress and received with favorable attention. What
definite
action was had I know not. A review of the work appeared in "The
Army and Navy Chronicle," and made sad havoc of the whole
project.
It was enabled to do this, however, by attacking in detail the accuracy
of some calculations of no very radical importance. These and
others
Mr. Locke is now engaged in carefully revising; and my own opinion is
that
his theory (which he has reached more by dint of imagination than of
anything
else) will finally be established, although, perhaps, never thoroughly
by him.
His prose style is noticeable
for its
concision,
luminousness, completeness — each quality in its proper place. He
has that method so generally characteristic of genius
proper.
Everything he writes is a model in its peculiar way, serving just the
purposes
intended and nothing to spare. He has written some poetry, which,
through certain radical misapprehensions, is not very good.
Like most men of true imagination,
Mr.
Locke is a seemingly paradoxical compound of coolness and excitability.
He is about five feet seven
inches in
height,
symmetrically formed; there is an air of distinction about his whole
person
— the air noble of genius. His face is strongly pitted
by
the small-pox, and, perhaps from the same cause, there is a marked
obliquity
in the eyes; a certain calm, clear luminousness, however,
about
these latter, amply compensates for the defect, and the forehead [page
128:] is truly beautiful in its intellectuality. I am
acquainted with no person possessing so fine a forehead as Mr.
Locke.
He is married, and about forty-five years of age, although no one would
suppose him to be more than thirty-eight. He is a lineal
descendant
from the immortal author of the "Essay on the Human Understanding." |
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