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NEW-YORK. June 4th, 1844.   The foot-race, yesterday, at the Beacon
Course,
attracted a wonderful share of the public attention. — Eleven thousand
persons are said to have been present, and several of our morning
papers
issued Extras, to satisfy the general curiosity, at a late hour in the
afternoon. You have already heard that Stannard was the winner, and
that
he did not accomplish the ten miles within the hour; being one
hour,
four
minutes, and thirty seconds, on the road. He walked the last
two
or three hundred yards, however; his sole antagonist, (towards the end
of
the race), having fallen, shortly after completing his ninth mile.
There
can be no doubt that Stannard could have run the ten miles within the
time
stipulated (as he did, easily, in 1835), and thus have secured five
hundred,
in place of three hundred dollars. He was, no doubt, influenced, in
holding
back, by the hope of a future bet. I myself did not see the contest;
feeling
little interest in feats of merely physical strength, or agility, when
performed by rational beings. The speed of a horse is sublime — that of
a man absurd. I always find myself fancying how very readily he could
be
beaten by an ass. In the same way, when Herr Kline curvets upon a rope,
I say to myself "how any ordinary baboon would turn up its nose at his
antics!" Touching the actual feat now in question — ten miles within
the
hour — I have not only accomplished it myself, but firmly believe that
there are at least one thousand men, in our western districts, who
could
perform, with proper training, twelve, with all ease. The true
reason
why "ten miles within the hour" is considered a marvel, is to be found
in the fact (not generally understood) that the most active men — those
in the highest physical condition — are seldom to be met with among
"the
lower classes" of society — among those who alone ever contend, in
public,
for the honors of the athletae. One of the truest curiosities of
Gotham, is the
great
raree-show of Messieurs Tiffany, Young, and Ellis, Broadway, at the
corner
of Warren. They are very tasteful and industrious importers of the
various
fancy manufactures of France, England, Germany, and China. Their
warehouses
are, beyond doubt, the most richly filled of any in America; forming
one
immense knicknackatory of virtu. The perfumery
department
is especially rare. I notice, also, particularly, a beautiful
assortment
of Swiss osier-work; chess-men — some sets costing five hundred
dollars;
paintings on rice-paper, in books and sheets; tile for fencing
ornamental
grounds; fine old bronzes and curiosities from the ancient temples;
fillogram
articles, in great variety; a vast display of bizarre fans;
ranging, in
price, from sixpence to seventy-five dollars; solid carved ebony and
"landscape-marble"
chairs, tables, sofas, &c.; apparatus for stamping initials on
paper;
Berlin iron and "artistique" candle-sticks, taper-stands,
perfume-burners, et cetera, et cetera. There is little political excitement;
or else it
lies "too deep for tears" — too profound for ordinary observation.
"Polk
Houses," "Polk Oyster Cellars," and "Polk hats, gloves, and
walking-canes,"
are already contending with their rivals of Clay. One poor hotel-keeper
had half-painted the sign of a "Wright Restaurant"; but the next mail
convinced
him that Wright was wrong, and so he plastered it over with "Dallas." Mr. Harper has failed, I am truly
happy to say,
in
an attempt to stop the running of the Harlaem rail-road cars upon
Sunday.
There are loud complaints, on the part of the "original Natives,"
that
the new authorities have made nearly all the appointments from the
ranks
of the Whigs. There can be no doubt that patriotism (well paid) is a
capital
thing. I learn that the "twelve quarto
volumes,"
embracing
a full account of the Exploring Expedition, are very shortly
to
be given to the public. Never before was so great an outcry in the case
of so little wool; never before was so great a tumult for so little
accomplished.
Let Mr. Wilkes say what he will, the Expedition was a failure. This is
the gentleman who picked up, on an iceberg at sea, a few morsels of
rock,
and brought them home (wrapped in Cotton) as specimens of an Antarctic
Continent — after the fashion of the skolastikos in Hierocles.
By
the examination of these specimens, a committee, appointed by Mr. W.,
will
determine the soil, climate, extent, geological condition, population,
governmental policy, religion, and literature of the new country, which
is to be entitled "Wilkesland," after its illustrious discoverer. Why
does
not some enterprising maker of wooden nutmegs get on board a flat-boat,
with a hand or two, and explore this Continent, of which so much has
been
sillily said, and about which so little has been satisfactorily done?
The
great error lies in the vastness of the expeditions —
altogether
disproportioned to the end in view. Celerity is the main point
in
explorations of high latitudes; and celerity never yet attended the
movements
of squadrons, especially when encumbered with "men of science." Let
some
Yankee open the way, (as, assuredly, some Yankee yet will), and
let
men of science follow his footsteps, and geologize at their leisure. It
is a great pity, and a "burning shame," that the control of this
important
enterprize was not given to its originator, Reynolds. He is, in every
respect,
as thoroughly qualified, as Commander Wilkes is not. A more
disgraceful
— a more unprincipled — a more outrageous system of chicanery, never
was
put in operation, before the open eyes of an intelligent community,
than
that by means of which Mr. Wilkes was made to occupy the position, and
usurp the undeniable rights, of Mr. Reynolds. I have been making vain endeavors to
ascertain
the
dimensions, (by which I mean the astronomical powers), of the
Frauenhofer
telescope, lately arrived. The papers, with the "Army and Navy
Chronicle,"
give the merely physical length and breadth, with the length and
breadth
of the boxes in which it came. Do you see anything more definite? What
has become of the telescope, an account of which Mr. Paine
furnished, some
years ago, to the "Worcester Palladium"? The tube, of Russia iron, was
said to be four feet in diameter, and forty-eight feet long — the
concave
mirror at the power-end forty-six inches in diameter — the lenses six
inches
and a quarter. Mr. P. stated that "owing to the form and
combination
of the lenses," his instrument would have "a magnifying power of
eleven
thousand." By "magnifying" power, I presume he meant space-penetrating
— but it has been hitherto supposed that, for good optical
reasons,
the space-penetrating power of a telescope must be limited to about
one
thousand, eight hundred. By and by, however, all telescopes must be
thrown
into the shade by the prodigious instrument of Lord Russell, the
speculum
of which is to be six feet in diameter — or is — for I
believe
the
telescope is now completed. If the difficulties attending the diffusion
of light, are overcome (difficulties hitherto considered
insurmountable)
Lord Russell may see, in the moon, any buildings as large as the
Capitol.
It is, perhaps, a fantastic, but it is, nevertheless, a perfectly
philosophical
idea, that, by the aid of his telescope, he might see as far, and as
well,
as would an imaginary giant, the ball of whose eye should be precisely
six feet in diameter, or eighteen feet round. The space-penetrating
power
is exactly proportioned to the area of the lens. Ceteris paribus, persons
with large eyes see better and farther than persons with small ones. The uproar which is made about
Seatsfield — "the
great Seatsfield" — is merely one other laughable, or disgusting
instance
of our subserviency to foreign opinion. His sketches are undoubtedly
clever;
but there are now, in America, some dozen of my own personal
acquaintances
who daily put forth, unnoticed, as good compositions, if not, indeed,
far
better. Seatsfield might have written and printed here, ad
infinitum, without getting his head above the mob of authors, even
were his
works
what the toadies of everything foreign tell us they are, but what they
positively are not. A German critic, however, of no very great
merit
or eminence, in a big book of no very particular importance, informs us
that we have a great author among us without knowing it. That is
enough.
The man is immortal; — he is "the great Seatsfield," henceforth and
forever.
Now only imagine some of our third or fourth-rate dabblers in
criticism,
gravely informing the Dutch, for example, that their epic poet, Cats,
is
a fine genius. They — even they — would not be so besotted as
to
believe Americans better judges of Dutch than the Dutchmen themselves.
They would reply, possibly, that Americans know nothing at all about
Cats,
nor cats about poetry. [column 3:] I mentioned, in my last, that the "Lady's
Companion"
had been sold by Snowden to a club of young literati. This, I
find,
is not precisely the fact — nor am I, socially speaking, quite
at
liberty to say what is. The "Companion," however, had better be
dropped
at once. Why, the very name of the thing is sufficient to damn
it.
Could any title possibly have been invented, more mawkish,
more
silly, more unmeaning, more flat? Who but a milliner's
apprentice
would even let into the house such a thing as a "Lady's Companion"? The "Magazine for the Million" has
been merged in
the "Rover."P.
[[column 1, continued:]] We observe, in one or two of our
exchange papers,
some comments expressive of surprise at an opinion broached in one of
the
letters of our New-York correspondent, touching the accuracy, or rather
the inaccuracy of the details, in the celebrated 'Moon-Hoax' of Locke.
We are aware that the general idea is in favor of the accuracy of the
narrative
— its philosophical accuracy, we mean. The success of the hoax
is
usually attributed to its correctness, and the consequent difficulty of
detecting a flaw. But we rather think it attributable to the
circumstance
of this hoax being first in the field, or nearly so. It took the people
by surprize, and there was no good reason (apart from internal
evidence)
for disbelief. It was therefore believed, although abounding in gross
errors,
which should have caused it to be discredited at once; while, on the
other
hand, the 'Balloon-Story,' which had no error, and which
related
nothing that might not really have happened, was discredited on account
of the frequent previous deceptions, of similar character, perpetrated
by the 'Sun.'The 'Moon-Hoax,' we say, was full of
philosophical
blunders; and these were pointed out distinctly by Mr. POE,
in the
Southern
Literary Messenger, at the time of the jeu d'esprit's appearance.
In the first place, Mr. Locke gives his lens a space-penetrating power
of 42,000, and speaks of seeing, with it, small flowers, such as the
Papaver
Rheas, the eyes of birds, and other minute objects. Now if we wish to
ascertain
how near, apparently, a lens will bring any distant object, we have but
to divide the distance by the magnifying power. The moon's distance is,
in round numbers, 240-000 [[240,000]] miles. Dividing this by 42,000,
we get 5
miles
and five-sevenths, as the apparent distance. But, at this distance, not
even the largest animals could be seen at all. Again; in speaking of a hairy veil,
over the eyes
of a species of bison, Mr. L. says: — It occurred to the acute mind of
Dr. 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 subjected. But,
unfortunately,
these inhabitants have no darkness at all; in the sun's
absence,
they have a light from the earth, equal to that of thirteen full moons.
Again; the points of the compass are
in
inextricable
confusion — the hoaxer seeming to be ignorant that, on a lunar map, the
east is to the left, &c., &c. Again; Mr. L. speaks of seas and
lakes in the
moon;
but it is positively demonstrated that no such bodies of water 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
(formerly
supposed to be water) the line of division is found to be rough and
jagged;
but were these dark places water, or liquid the line would be,
evidently,
even. Again; the description of the wings
of the
man-bats
is a literal copy from 'Peter Wilkins.' Again; the hoaxer says: — 'What a
prodigious
influence
must our thirteen-times larger globe have exercised upon this
satellite,
when an embryo in the womb of time!' Now here, the earth, in the sense
intended, is not only thirteen, but forty-nine times larger than
the moon. And once again; (for we have
not space to
pursue
these innumerable errors); Mr. Locke describes particularly the whole
appearance of man-bats and other living objects
supposed to be
seen.
He speaks of seeing their entire bodies; but is it not clearly
demonstrable
that he could only have perceived the diameter of their heads? They
would have appeared, to the observer, as flies upon a ceiling, heels up
and head down; but no mention of this fact is made at all; although
it would have been the first phenomenon which (from its oddness) would
have arrested the attention of a real spectator. The fact is,
that,
however rich the fancy displayed in this ingenious fiction, it was
sadly
deficient in the execution of its details — in vraisemblance,
and
analogical
truth. That the public were misled by it, even for an instant, merely
proves
the prevalent ignorance of Astronomy. |
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