Events

The New York Sun published the first installment of a stunning report on August 25, 1835: the renowned astronomer Sir John Herschel had discovered life on the Moon. Readers learned of vast forests, blue unicorns, bipedal beavers that built huts, and bat-winged humanoids living near sapphire temples. The articles were entirely fabricated, and they made the Sun the best-selling newspaper in the world. The series ran across six installments, allegedly reprinted from the Edinburgh Journal of Science, a publication that had actually ceased printing years earlier. The fictional author, "Dr. Andrew Grant," described observations made through a revolutionary telescope Herschel had supposedly erected at the Cape of Good Hope. The details were lavishly specific: oceans of lunar water, beaches of brilliant white sand, herds of miniature bison, and a species of humanoid creatures the articles called Vespertilio-homo, or bat-men. Each installment was more fantastical than the last, and each sold more papers. The hoax succeeded because it exploited the public's genuine excitement about astronomy and its limited ability to verify claims. Herschel was a real and famous astronomer working in South Africa, lending the story a veneer of credibility. Transatlantic communication took weeks, so debunking required patience few readers possessed. Some scientists initially took the reports seriously, and a delegation from Yale reportedly traveled to New York to examine the original Edinburgh article, only to be sent from office to office without finding it. The Sun never formally retracted the story. When the hoax was exposed, the paper's circulation barely dipped; readers had enjoyed the ride. The actual author was likely Richard Adams Locke, a Sun reporter, though he never fully admitted it. The Great Moon Hoax demonstrated the commercial power of sensational journalism decades before the term "yellow journalism" existed. Herschel, upon learning of the affair, was reportedly amused but noted that his real astronomical discoveries could never compete with fiction for public attention. He was right then, and the observation holds now.

Captain Matthew Webb waded into the water at Dover, England, on August 24, 1875, coated himself in porpoise oil, and began swimming toward France. Twenty-one hours and forty-five minutes later, he staggered ashore near Calais, becoming the first person known to have swum across the English Channel. The feat was considered so extraordinary that no one would repeat it for 36 years. Webb was a 27-year-old merchant navy captain from Shropshire who had become a strong swimmer as a child in the River Severn. He gained public attention in 1873 by diving into the Atlantic to attempt a rescue of a fellow sailor, an act of courage that earned him the Royal Humane Society's medal. Reading about a failed Channel attempt by J.B. Johnson inspired Webb to try it himself. He trained obsessively, including a 20-mile practice swim in the Thames. The Channel presented savage conditions: water temperatures around 15 degrees Celsius, unpredictable tidal currents that could sweep a swimmer miles off course, and the constant risk of jellyfish stings. Webb used the breaststroke exclusively, fed by his support boat crew who passed him beef broth, brandy, coffee, and cod liver oil on a pole. Powerful tides pushed him in a zigzag pattern, meaning he swam nearly 40 miles to cover the 21-mile straight-line distance. At one point, strong currents pushed him backward for over an hour. He was stung repeatedly by jellyfish but refused to quit. Webb became an instant national celebrity. He was awarded prize money, endorsement deals (including a brand of matchboxes bearing his image), and the adulation of Victorian Britain, which viewed the swim as proof of British pluck and physical superiority. Fame consumed him. He attempted increasingly dangerous stunts to maintain public interest, and on July 24, 1883, he tried to swim across the rapids below Niagara Falls. The whirlpool dragged him under, and his body was recovered four days later. Webb was 35. He proved that the Channel could be crossed, but the water does not forgive overconfidence.