








THE STORY OF THE HERSCHELS

A FAMILY OF ASTRONOMERS.


SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL
SIR JOHN HERSCHEL
CAROLINE HERSCHEL.

               "Stars
    Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;
    Each has his place appointed, each his course."

    MILTON.


1886




PREFATORY NOTE


From the best available sources have been gathered the following
biographical particulars of a remarkable family of astronomers--the
Herschels.

They will serve to show the young reader how great a pleasure may be
found in the acquisition of knowledge, and how solid a happiness in
quietly pursuing the path of duty.

On the value of biography it is unnecessary to insist. It is now well
understood that we may learn to make our own lives good and honest and
true, by carefully and diligently following the example of the good and
honest and true who have gone before us. And certain it is that the
lessons taught by the lives of the Herschels are such as young readers
will do well to lay to heart.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I.

   The study of astronomy a source of intellectual pleasure--By
   contemplating the heavens, the mind is led to wonder and adore--A
   proof of the existence of a Creator is afforded by creation--"We
   praise thee, O Lord!"--The beauty of Nature--Intellectual
   curiosity--"Order is Heaven's first law"--Value of astronomical
   study


CHAPTER II.

   Herschel's parents--The two brothers--A musical family--An
   inventive genius--The brothers in England--Herschel as an
   organist--A laborious life--Mechanical ingenuity of William
   Herschel--Telescope-making--A Sunday misadventure--Constructing a
   twenty-foot telescope--A domestic picture--Discovery of a new
   planet--Herschel's combined musical and astronomical pursuits--A
   thirty-foot telescope--Casting the mirror--An explosion


CHAPTER III.

   The house at Datchet--Housekeeping details--A devoted sister--Life
   at Datchet--Herschel's astronomical observations--Testing and
   trying "eyepieces"--The colossal telescope--Miss Herschel's
   accident--Removed to Slough--Constructing a forty-foot
   telescope--Brother and sister--Heroic self-denial--Occupations at
   Slough--Royal liberality--An astronomer's triumphs--About the
   nebulae--Investigation of the sun's constitution--The solar spots,
   and their influence--Physical constitution of the moon--Lunar
   volcanoes--Arago's explanation--Herschel's study of the
   planets--Satellites of Saturn--Discovery of Uranus--And of its six
   satellites--Study of Pigott's comet and the comet of
   1811--Description of the latter--An uneventful life--Herschel's
   marriage--His honours--Extracts from his sister's diary--Decaying
   strength--Herschel removes to Bath--Last days of an
   astronomer--Illustration of the ruling passion--Death of Sir
   William Herschel--His achievements


CHAPTER IV.

   Birth and education of Sir John Herschel--Honours at
   Cambridge--First publication--Continues his scientific studies--His
   numerous literary contributions--His devotion to his father's
   reputation--The forty-foot telescope--Herschel's observations on
   the double and triple stars--On the refraction and polarization of
   light--Catalogue of nebulae and star-clusters--Voyage to Cape
   Town--Letter to Miss Herschel--Study of the southern
   heavens--Return to England--Distinctions conferred upon him--His
   "Familiar Lectures on Scientific Subjects"--His description of
   volcanoes and earthquakes--Continual changes in the configuration
   of the earth--Violent earthquakes--Phenomena of volcanic
   eruptions--In Mexico--In the island of Sumbawa--Herschel's theory
   of volcanic forces--His character


CHAPTER V.

   Caroline Herschel's devotion to her brother William--Her grief and
   solitariness at his death--Reflections on the mutability of human
   things--Aunt and nephew--A parsimonious government--Miss Herschel's
   gold medal--South on Sir William's discoveries--On Miss Herschel's
   devotion--Her own astronomical discoveries--Her life at
   Hanover--Her wonderful memory--Anecdotes of Sir John
   Herschel--Correspondence between aunt and nephew--The path of
   duty--Sir John's visit to Miss Herschel--Reminiscences of early
   years--A nonogenarian--A Christmas in Hanover--Last days of
   Caroline Herschel--Her death--Her epitaph




THE STORY OF THE HERSCHELS.




CHAPTER I.


Of all the sciences, none would seem to yield a purer intellectual
gratification than that of Astronomy. Man cannot but feel a sense of
pleasure, and even of power, when, through the instruments constructed
by his ingenuity, he finds himself brought within reach, as it were, of
the innumerable orbs that roll through the domains of space. He cannot
but feel a sense of pleasure, and even of power, when the telescope
reveals to his gaze not only the worlds that constitute his own
so-called Solar System, but the suns that light up the borders of the
Universe, system upon system, sun upon sun, covering the unbounded area
almost as thickly as the daisies cover a meadow in spring. He cannot
but feel a sense of pleasure, and even, of power, when he tracks the
course of the flashing comet, examines into the physical characteristics
of the Sun and Moon, and records the various phases of the distant
planets. But if such be his feeling, it is certainly tempered with awe
and wonder as he contemplates the phenomena of the heavens,--the beauty
of the stars, the immensity of their orbits, the regularity with which
each bright world performs its appointed course, the simplicity of the
laws which govern its motions, and the mystery which attends its far-off
existence. It has been, said that "an undevout astronomer is mad;" and
if Astronomy, of all the sciences, be the one most calculated to gratify
the intellect, surely it is the one which should most vividly awaken the
religious sentiment. Is it possible to look upon all those worlds within
worlds, all those endless groups of mighty suns, all those strange and
marvellous combinations of coloured stars, all those remote nebulous
clusters,--to look upon them in their perfect order and government,--to
consider their infinite number and astonishing dimensions,--without
acknowledging the fulness of the power of an everlasting God, who
created them, set them in their appointed places, and still controls
them? Is it possible to be an astronomer and an atheist? Is it possible
not to see in their relations to one another and to our own little
planet an Almighty Wisdom as well as an Almighty Love? Could any
"fortuitous concourse of atoms" have strewed the depths of space with
those mighty and beautiful orbs, and defined for each the exact limits
of its movements? Alas! to human folly and human vanity everything is
possible; and men may watch the stars in their courses, and delight in
the beauty of Sun and Moon, and perceive all the wonders of the sunrise
and all the glories of the sunset, without any recognition in their
hearts of Him who made them--of Him in whom we and they alike live and
move and have our being! Yet it is not the less true that only the
devout and thankful heart can adequately and thoroughly sympathize with
the love and wisdom and power which are written in such legible
characters on the face of heaven. Astronomy gives up _all_ its
treasures only to him who enters upon its study in a reverent spirit. It
affords the purest intellectual gratification only when its pursuits are
undertaken with a humble acknowledgment of the littleness of man and the
greatness of God. Half the wonder, half the mystery of creation is lost,
when we fail to recognize the truth that it is governed by eternal laws
springing from an Almighty Intelligence. Take the Creator out of
creation, and it becomes a hopeless puzzle--a dreary problem, incapable
of solution. But we restore to it all its brightness, all its beauty,
all its charm, when we are able to lift up our hearts with the Psalmist
and to say: "Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens;
praise him in the heights. Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all
ye stars of light. Let them praise the name of the Lord: for his name
alone is excellent: his glory is above the earth and heaven."

And it is to be observed that the soul cannot be satisfied without this
religious view of Nature. The heavens and the earth are as nothing to
man, if they do not excite his awe and call forth his thanksgiving. We
might almost suppose that it is for this purpose that the sea rolls its
waves on the shore, and the violet smiles by the wayside, and the moon
floods the night with its silver radiance. As a recent writer has
observed,[1] the beauty of Nature is necessary for the perfection of
_praise_; without it the praise of the Creator would be essentially
weakened; our hearts must be roused and excited by what we see. "It may
seem extraordinary," adds our authority, "but it is the case, that,
though we certainly look at contrivance or machinery in Nature with a
high admiration, still, with all its countless and multitudinous uses,
which we acknowledge with gratitude, there is nothing in it which raises
the mind's interest in nearly the same degree that beauty does. It is an
awakening sight; and one way in which it acts is by exciting a certain
curiosity about the Deity. In what does God possess character, feelings,
relations to us?--all unanswerable questions, but the very entertainment
of which is an excitement of the reason, and throws us upon the thought
of what there is behind the veil. This curiosity is a strong part of
worship and of praise. To think that we know everything about God, is to
benumb and deaden worship; but mystical thought quickens worship, and
the beauty of Nature raises mystical thought. So long as a man is
probing Nature, and in the thick of its causes and operations, he is too
busy about his own inquiries to receive this impress from her; but place
the picture before him, and he becomes conscious of a veil and curtain
which has the secrets of a moral existence behind it,--interest is
inspired, curiosity is awakened, and worship is raised. 'Surely thou art
a God that hidest thyself.' But if God simply hid himself and nothing
more, if we knew nothing, we should not wish to know more. But the veil
suggests that it _is_ a veil, and that there is something behind it
which it conceals."

[Footnote 1: Professor Mozley, "University Sermons," pp. 145, 146.]

Now, this is the feeling which the study of Astronomy very certainly
awakens. Every day the astronomer discovers something which quickens his
curiosity to discover more. Every day he catches new glimpses of the
Almighty Wisdom, which stimulate his desire for a further revelation.
And all he learns, and all he anticipates learning, combine to produce
in him an emotion of awe. What grandeur lies before him in that endless
procession of worlds--in that array of suns and stars extending beyond
the limits of the most powerful telescopic vision! How marvellous it is!
How beautiful! Observe the combination of simplicity with power; note
how a great principle of "law" underlies the apparent intricacy of
eccentric and intersecting orbits. And then the field of inquiry is
inexhaustible. The astronomer has no fear of feeling the satiety of an
Alexander, when he lamented that he had no more worlds to conquer. What
Newton said of himself is true of every astronomer,--he is but as a
child on the sea-shore, picking up a shell here and a shell there, but
unable to grasp a full conception of the mighty ocean that thunders in
his ears!

And, therefore, because Astronomy cherishes the feelings of awe and
reverence and praise, because it inspires a continual yearning after
additional knowledge, because it reveals to us something of the
character of God, we conceive that of all the sciences it affords the
purest intellectual gratification. Certainly it is one of the most
absorbing. Its attraction seems to be irresistible. Once an astronomer,
always an astronomer; the stars, we may fancy, will not relax the spell
they lay upon their votary. He willingly withdraws himself from the din
and gaiety of social life, to shut himself up in his chamber, and, with
the magic tube due to the genius of a Galileo, survey with ever-new
delight the celestial wonders. So was it with Tycho Brahé, and
Copernicus, and Kepler; so was it, as the following pages will show,
with that remarkable family of astronomers--astronomers for three
generations--the HERSCHELS.




CHAPTER II.


In the quiet city of Hanover, nearly a century and a half ago, lived a
professor of music, by name Isaac Herschel, a Protestant in religion,
though presumably of Jewish descent. He had been left an orphan at the
early age of eleven, and his friends wished him to adopt the vocation of
a landscape-gardener; but being passionately fond of music, and having
acquired some skill on the violin, he left Dresden, his birthplace, in
order to seek his fortune; wandering from place to place, until at
Hanover, in 1731, he obtained an engagement in the band of the Guards.
Soon afterwards he married; and by his wife, Anna Ilse Moritzen, had ten
children, four of whom died in infancy. Of the others, two--a brother
and a sister--lived to distinguish themselves by their intellectual
power; and all true lovers of science will regard with reverence the
memories of William and Caroline Herschel.

Frederick William Herschel was born on the 15th of November 1738. Like
his father, he displayed an innate musical ability, which was sedulously
cultivated and constantly developed; while his general mental training
was left to the care of the master of the garrison-school. Those who are
gifted with a love and a capacity for music sometimes show to little
advantage in other pursuits; but such was not the case with William
Herschel, who progressed so rapidly in all his studies that the pupil
soon outstripped the teacher. Although, we are told, four years younger
than his brother Jacob, the two began French together, and William
mastered the language in half the time occupied by his senior. His
leisure time out of school, when not given up to practice on the oboe
and the violin, was devoted to the acquisition, of Latin and arithmetic.

His father in 1743 was present at the battle of Dettingen; and the
exposure consequent on a night spent on the rain-soaked battle-field
afflicted him with an asthmatic complaint and a partial paralysis of
the limbs, which darkened for years the musician's peaceful household.
He himself, however, was greatly cheered by the musical proficiency of
his two sons, and the intellectual refinement of Frederick William. "My
brothers," says Caroline Herschel, "were often introduced as solo
performers and assistants in the orchestra of the court; and I remember
that I was frequently prevented"--she was then a child about five years
old--"from going to sleep by the lively criticism on music on [their]
coming from a concert, or conversations on philosophical subjects, which
lasted frequently till morning, in which my father was a lively
partaker, and assistant of my brother William by contriving self-made
instruments." She adds that she often kept herself awake in order to
listen to their animating remarks, feeling inexpressibly happy in
_their_ happiness,--an indication of that devoted and unselfish
affection which afterwards consecrated her whole life. But, generally,
their conversation branched out into philosophical subjects; and
father and son argued with so much fervour, that the fond mother's
interference became necessary,--the immortal names of Leibnitz, Newton,
and Euler ringing with a clarion-like peal that boded ill for the repose
of the younger members of the family. "But it seems," says Caroline,
"that on the brothers retiring to their own room, where they shared the
same bed, my brother William had still a great deal to say; and
frequently it happened that, when he stopped for an assent or a reply,
he found his hearer had gone to sleep; and I suppose it was not till
then that he bethought himself to do the same. The recollection of these
happy scenes confirms me in the belief that, had my brother William not
then been interrupted in his philosophical pursuits, we should have had
much earlier proofs of his inventive genius. My father," she continues,
"was a great admirer of astronomy, and had some knowledge of that
science; for I remember him taking me, on a clear frosty night, into
the street, to make me acquainted with several of the most beautiful
constellations, after we had been gazing at a comet which was then
visible. And I well remember with what delight he used to assist my
brother William in his various contrivances in the pursuit of his
philosophical studies; among which was a neatly-turned four-inch globe,
upon which the equator and ecliptic were engraved by my brother."

       *       *       *       *       *

In 1755, the tranquil family circle was broken up--the Hanoverian
regiment in whose band William and Jacob were engaged having been
ordered to England. The parting was very sorrowful; for the invalid
father had derived much support as well as enjoyment from the company of
his sons. At first, the English experiences of the young Germans were
somewhat severe. They endured all the pangs of poverty; pangs endured
with heroic composure, while William relaxed not a whit in his devotion
to the pursuit of knowledge. Happily, however, his musical proficiency
attracted the attention of Lord Durham, who offered him the appointment
of bandmaster to a militia regiment stationed in the north of England.
In this position he gradually formed a connection among the wealthier
families of Leeds, Pontefract, and Doncaster, where he taught music,
and conducted the public concerts and oratorios with equal zeal and
success. In 1764 he paid a brief but happy visit to his family, much to
the joy of his faithful sister, Caroline. Returning to England, for
which country he cherished a strong affection, he resumed his career of
patient industry, and in 1765 was appointed organist at Halifax. He was
now in receipt of an income which secured him due domestic comforts, and
enabled him to remedy the defects of his early education. With the help
of a grammar and a dictionary he mastered Italian. He also studied
mathematics and the scientific theory of music, losing no opportunity of
adding to his stores of knowledge.

In 1766 he obtained the lucrative post of organist to the Octagon Chapel
at Bath. Increased emoluments, however, brought with them increased
obligations. He was required to play almost incessantly, either at the
oratorios or in the rooms at the Baths, at the theatre, and in the
public concerts. When his sister Caroline joined him, in 1772, she found
him immersed in his various labours. For the choir of the Octagon
Chapel he composed anthems, chants, and complete morning and evening
services. A part of every day was occupied in giving lessons to his
numerous pupils. In truth, he was one of the busiest men in England;
yet in all his arrangements he was so methodical that he found time for
everything--and time, more particularly, for the studies in which his
soul delighted. His life furnishes an admirable example of what may
be accomplished by a man with a firm will and a strong purpose, who
sets before himself an end to be attained, and controls all his efforts
towards its attainment. He toiled so hard as a musician, because he
wanted to be something more. Every spare moment of the day, and
frequently many hours of the night, he gave up to the pursuits which
were gradually leading him into the path best fitted for his genius.
The study of mathematics proved but a preliminary to the study of
optics; and an accident made him once for all an astronomer.

A common two-foot telescope falling into his hands, revealed to him
the wonders of the heavens. His imagination was inspired by their
contemplation; with ever-increasing enthusiasm he gazed on the revolving
planets, on the flashing stars; he determined to fathom more profoundly
the constellated depths. A larger instrument was necessary, and Herschel
wrote to London for it; but the price demanded proved far beyond the
resources of the sanguine organist. What should he do? He was not the
man to be beaten back by a difficulty: as he could not buy a telescope,
he resolved to make one; an instrument eighteen or twenty feet long,
which would reveal to him the phases of the remotest planets. And
straightway the musician entered on a multitude of ingenious
experiments, so as to discover the particular metallic alloys that
reflected light with the greatest intensity, the best means of giving
the parabolic figure to the mirrors, the necessary degree of polish, and
other practical details. In his eager pursuit he enlisted the services
of his loving and intelligent sister. "I was much hindered in my musical
practice," she writes, "by my help being continually wanted in the
execution of the various contrivances; and I had to amuse myself by
making the tube of pasteboard for the glasses which were to arrive from
London--for at that time no optician had settled at Bath. But when all
was finished, no one besides my brother could get a glimpse of Jupiter
or Saturn, for the great length of the tube would not allow it to be
kept in a straight line. This difficulty, however, was soon removed, by
substituting tin tubes."

The work went on famously, as might be expected from so much ardour,
perseverance, and ingenuity. Of a Quaker resident at Bath, the
musician-astronomer purchased a quantity of patterns, tools, hones,
polishers, and unfinished mirrors. Every room in the house was converted
into a workshop. In a handsomely-furnished drawing-room might be seen
a cabinetmaker constructing a tube and stands of all descriptions;
while Herschel's brother Alex was engaged in a bedroom in putting up a
gigantic turning-machine. Meantime, the claims of music could not be
ignored: there were frequent rehearsals for the public concerts; lessons
to pupils; the composition of glees and catches, and the like; the
superintendence of the practice of the chapel choir; and the study of
sonatas and concertos for public performance. But all the leisure that
could be made or stolen was occupied in labours which proved their own
reward. Straight from the concert-platform rushed the musician to his
workshop, and many a lace ruffle was torn by nails or bespattered by
molten pitch; to say nothing of the positive danger to which Herschel
continually exposed himself by the precipitancy of his movements. For
example: one Saturday evening, when the two brothers returned from a
concert between eleven and twelve o'clock, William amused himself all
the way home with the idea of being at liberty to spend the next day,
except the few hours' duty at chapel, at the turning-bench; but
recollecting that the tools wanted sharpening, they ran with them
and a lantern to their landlord's grindstone in a public yard, where,
very naturally, they did not wish to be seen on a Sunday morning. But
William was soon brought back by his brother, almost swooning with the
loss of one of his finger-nails.

This incident took place in the winter of 1775, at a house situated
near Walcot turnpike, to which Herschel had removed in the summer of the
previous year. Here, on a grass plot behind the house, he made active
preparations for the erection of a twenty-foot telescope. So assiduous
was his devotion to this work, that while he was engaged in polishing
the mirror, his sister was constantly obliged to feed him by putting his
victuals into his mouth. Otherwise he would have reduced himself to a
condition of positive emaciation! Once, when finishing a seven-foot
mirror, he did not take his hands from it for sixteen consecutive hours;
for in these days machinery had not been devised as a substitute for
manual toil. He was seldom unemployed at meals; but at such times
employed himself in contriving or making drawings of whatever occurred
to his fertile fancy. Usually his sister Caroline read to him while he
was engaged at the turning-lathe, or polishing mirrors; choosing such
books as "Don Quixote," the "Arabian Nights," the novels of Sterne and
Fielding; and tea and supper were served without any interruption to the
task in which Herschel was absorbed.

In Miss Herschel's charming letters we find a vivid sketch of the
family avocations at this period:---


     "My brother applied himself to perfect his mirrors, erecting in
     his garden a stand for his twenty-foot telescope: many trials
     were necessary before the required motions for such an unwieldy
     machine could be contrived. Many attempts were made by way of
     experiment against a mirror before an intended thirty-foot
     telescope could be completed, for which, between whiles (not
     interrupting the observations with seven, ten, and twenty-foot,
     and writing papers for both the Royal and Bath Philosophical
     Societies), gauges, shapes, weights, &c, of the mirror were
     calculated, and trials of the composition of the metal were
     made. In short, I saw nothing else and heard nothing else
     talked of but about these things when my brothers were
     together. Alex was always very alert, assisting when anything
     new was going forward; but he wanted perseverance, and never
     liked to confine himself at home for many hours together. And
     so it happened that my brother William was obliged to make
     trial of my abilities in copying for him catalogues, tables,
     &c, and sometimes whole papers which were lent [to] him for his
     perusal. Among them was one by Mr. Michel, and a catalogue of
     Christian Mayer in Latin, which kept me employed when my
     brother was at the telescope at night. When I found that a hand
     was sometimes wanted when any particular measures were to be
     made with the lamp micrometer, or a fire to be kept up, or a
     dish of coffee necessary during a night's long watching, I
     undertook with pleasure what others might have thought a
     hardship."

The astronomer-musician's patient survey of the heavens was rewarded,
on the 13th of March 1781, by the discovery of a new planet, situated
on the borders of our Solar System. In every way this was a discovery
of signal importance. It broke up the traditional conservatism of
astronomers, which had almost refused to regard as possible the
existence of any planets beyond the orbit of Saturn, because for so
many years none had revealed themselves to the watchful gaze. Men's
minds were widened, so to speak, at a bound; their conceptions
strengthened and enlarged; for the discovery of Georgium Sidus--as
the new planet was designated by its discoverer, in honour of George
III.--rendered possible and probable the discovery of other planets,
and thus extended immeasurably the limits of the Solar System. Herschel,
whose reputation as a musician had hitherto been local, now sprang into
world-wide fame as an astronomer. George III., who was a true lover of
science, and not disinclined to bestow his patronage on men and things
of Hanoverian origin, summoned him to his presence; and was so much
pleased with his modest and interesting account of the long labours
which had led to the great result, that, after a brief interval, he
bestowed upon him an annual pension of three hundred guineas, and a
residence, first at Clay Hall, and then at Slough.

But before this well-deserved good fortune fell to him, Herschel
continued his industrious career as both musician and astronomer. During
the concert season, which lasted five or six months, he had never a
night disengaged, but was conducting oratorios at Bath or Bristol,
arranging for public concerts, attending rehearsals, and superintending
the performances of his choir. As soon as a lull came, the indomitable
man, assisted by his faithful sister, returned to his astronomical
pursuits. To gain a fuller and clearer knowledge of the starry worlds
scattered over the vast fields of space, Herschel from the first had
seen that instruments of much greater power were necessary than any
hitherto used by astronomers. He set to work, therefore, on the
construction of a thirty-foot telescope; the metallic mirror of which
must, of course, be of proportionate dimensions. This huge mirror was to
be cast in a mould of loam prepared from horse-dung, of which an
immense quantity was to be pounded in a mortar, and sifted through a
fine sieve; an arduous and almost endless task, undertaken by Caroline
Herschel and her brother Alex. Then a furnace was erected in a back-room
on the ground-floor; and every preparation having been made, a day was
set apart for the casting. The day came, and Herschel and his
collaborateurs looked forward to the consummation of their hopes. The
metal was placed in the furnace; but, unfortunately, just when it was
ready for pouring in a molten stream into the mould, it began to leak,
and both the Herschels, and the caster with his men, were compelled to
fly from the apartment, the stone flooring exploding, and flying about
in all directions, as high as the ceiling. The astronomer, exhausted
with heat and exertion, fell on a heap of brickbats; exhausted, but not
dismayed. The work was renewed; and a second casting being attempted, it
proved entirely successful, and a very perfect metal was formed in the
mould.




CHAPTER III.


In August 1782 the Herschels removed to Datchet. Their new home was "a
large neglected place; the house in a deplorably ruinous condition, the
garden and grounds overgrown with weeds." Nor were the domestic
arrangements more favourable. For a fortnight the little family were
without a female servant; and an old woman, the gardener's wife, showed
Miss Herschel the shops, where the high prices of every article, from
coals to butcher's meat, appalled her. But of these inconveniences
Herschel took no account. Enough for him that he was released from the
drudgery of teaching, and free thenceforth to devote himself to the
heavens and their wonders. A man whose thoughts are always with the
stars can hardly be expected to trouble himself about the price of
tallow-candles! Were there not capacious stables in which mirrors of
any size could be ground; and a roomy laundry capable of easy conversion
into a library, with one door opening on a large lawn, where the "small
twenty-foot" was to take its stand? Compared with advantages such as
these, what mattered the scarcity of "butcher's meat"? Herschel
laughingly assured his sister that they could live on eggs and bacon;
which, he confidently asserted, would cost next to nothing, now that
they were really in the country!

And so he settled down to a life of quiet, industry at Datchet; his
admirable sister being formally adopted as his assistant and secretary.
Never had master a more devoted, a more enthusiastic, or a more
intelligent servant! She shared in all his night-watches, with her eye
constantly on the clock, and the pencil in her hand; with unerring
accuracy she made all the complex calculations so frequently required;
she made three or four copies of every observation in separate
registers, co-ordinating, classifying, and analyzing them. If the
scientific world, says Arago, saw with astonishment the unexampled
rapidity with which Herschel's works succeeded one another for many
years, they were greatly indebted for this affluence of production to
the affectionate ardour of his sister Caroline. Her enthusiasm never
failed; her industry knew no check; and her brother's fame was dearer to
her than life.

In one of her letters she describes with graphic simplicity the
"interior" at Datchet:--


     "I found that I was to be trained for an assistant-astronomer;
     and by way of encouragement, a telescope adapted for 'sweeping'
     (or rapidly surveying a wide extent of space), consisting of a
     tube with two glasses, was given [to] me. I was to 'sweep for
     comets;' and I see by my journal that I began August 22nd,
     1782, to write down and describe all remarkable appearances I
     saw in my 'sweeps.' But it was not till the last two months of
     the same year that I felt the least encouragement to spend the
     starlit nights on a grass-plot covered with dew or hoar-frost,
     without a human being near enough to be within call. I knew
     too little of the real heavens to be able to point out every
     object so as to find it again without losing too much time
     by consulting the Atlas. But all these troubles were removed
     when I knew my brother to be at no great distance, making
     observations with his various instruments on double stars,
     planets, and the like; and I could have his assistance
     immediately when I found a nebula, or cluster of stars, of
     which I intended to give a catalogue. I had the comfort to
     see," she continues, "that my brother was satisfied with my
     endeavours to assist him when he wanted another person either
     to run to the clocks, write down a memorandum, fetch and carry
     instruments, or measure the ground with poles,--of which
     something of the kind every moment would occur."

The conscientious care and assiduous industry with which Herschel made
his measurements of the diameter of the Georgium Sidus (now called
Uranus), and his interesting observations of other planets, of double
stars with their coloured light, of cometary and nebulous appearances,
were truly remarkable; as may be seen by the various papers which
he wrote at this time for the Royal Society. In addition to all this
labour, he perfected a twelve-inch speculum of vast magnifying power
before the spring of 1784; and many hours were spent at the
turning-bench, as not a night clear enough for observing ever passed
without the devising of improvements in the mounting and motion of
the various instruments then in use, or the test and trial of
newly-constructed "eyepieces," most of which were executed by Herschel's
own hands. "Wishing to save his time, he began to have some work of that
kind done by a watchmaker, who had retired from business, and lived on
Datchet Common; but the work was so bad, and the charges [were] so
unreasonable, that he could not be employed. It was not till some time
afterwards, in his frequent visits to the meetings of the Royal Society
(made in moonlight nights), that he had an opportunity of looking about
for mathematical workmen, opticians, and founders. But the work seldom
answered expectation, and it was kept to be executed with improvements
by Alexander during the few months he spent with us."

       *       *       *       *       *

In July 1783 Herschel began his observations with his large twenty-foot
telescope, though it was in an unfinished state; and his sister watched
and waited with much apprehension when she knew him to be elevated some
fifteen feet or more on a temporary crossbeam instead of a safe gallery.
Here it is needful to explain, perhaps, that these huge astronomical
telescopes are not used like ordinary glasses, to one end of which the
observer applies his eye; the objects towards which the tube is directed
being thrown upon a large mirror, which is attached to it externally
at some distance from the ground. The observer, therefore, needs to
be mounted on an elevated platform or gallery, from which he can
conveniently inspect the mirror. One night, in a very high wind,
Herschel had scarcely descended from his station before the whole
apparatus came down; and his sister was in continual apprehension of
some serious accident. One such, indeed, occurred, and to herself. The
evening of the 31st of December had been cloudy, but as a few stars
shone forth about ten o'clock, hurried preparations were made for
observing. Herschel, standing at the front of the telescope, directed
his sister to make a certain alteration in the lateral motion, which was
done by machinery, on which the point of support of the tube and mirror
rested. At each end of the machine or trough was an iron hook, such as
butchers use for suspending their joints of meat; and having to run in
the dark across ground covered a foot deep with melting snow, Miss
Herschel fell on one of these hooks, which entered her right leg above
the knee. To her brother's injunction, "Make haste!" she could answer
only by a pitiful cry, "I am hooked!" He and the workmen hastened
immediately to her assistance, but they could not disentangle her
without leaving nearly two ounces of her flesh behind. For some weeks
she was an invalid, and at one time it was feared that amputation might
be necessary.

       *       *       *       *       *

Not satisfied with the magnifying power of any of the instruments he
had hitherto constructed, Herschel resolved, in 1784, to attempt a
forty-foot telescope. Such a work, however, was far beyond his limited
private resources; and he did not venture to undertake it until promised
a royal bounty of £2000. Then he removed from Datchet to Clay Hall, Old
Windsor; and again, in 1786, to Slough, where he finally settled, and
succeeded in erecting a commodious and well-equipped observatory. "We
may confidently assert," says Arago, "relative to the little house and
garden of Slough, that it is the spot of all the world where the
greatest number of discoveries have been made. The name of that village
will never perish: science will transmit it religiously to our latest
posterity."

At Slough, as at Datchet, prevailed the most enthusiastic industry; and
the house was soon as full of well-ordered labour as a bee-hive. Smiths
were kept constantly at work on different parts of the new telescopic
leviathan; and a whole troop of labourers was engaged in grinding the
tools required for shaping and polishing its mirror. Had not a cloudy or
moonlight night sometimes intervened, Herschel and his sister must have
died of sheer exhaustion, for they toiled with unremitting ardour both
day and night. With the morning came the workpeople, of whom no fewer
than between thirty and forty were at work for upwards of three months
together: some employed in felling and rooting out trees, some digging
and preparing the ground for the bricklayers, who were laying the
foundation for the telescope. Then there were the carpenter and his men;
and, meanwhile, the smith was converting a wash-house into a forge, and
manufacturing complete sets of tools for his own share of the labour.
In short, the place was at one time a complete workshop for the
manufacture of optical instruments; and it was a pleasure to enter it
for the purpose of observing the fervour of the great astronomer, and
the reverent attention given to his orders.

It is impossible not to refer here to the sisterly devotion of Caroline
Herschel, who was in every respect worthy of her noble-minded,
tender-hearted, and enthusiastic brother.

She stood beside him to the last, sharing his labours, brightening his
life. In the days, says her biographer, when Herschel gave up a
lucrative career that he might dedicate all his energies to astronomical
pursuits, it was through her care and thriftiness that he was spared
from the unrest of pecuniary anxieties. As she had been his helper and
assistant during his career as a popular musician, so she became his
helper and assistant when he gave himself up, like the Chaldeans of old,
to the study of the stars. By dint of a resolute will and a love that
shrank from no sacrifice or exertion, she acquired such a knowledge of
mathematics and calculations, mysterious as these generally seem to the
feminine mind, that she was able to formulate with exactness the result
of her brother's researches. She never failed to be his willing
fellow-labourer in the workshop; she helped him to grind and polish his
mirrors; she stood beside his telescope, in order to record his
observations, during the dark and bitter mid-winter nights, when the
very ink was frozen in the bottle. It may be said, without exaggeration,
that she kept him alive by her care: thinking nothing of herself, she
lived for him, and him alone. She loved him, she believed in him, she
aided him with all her heart and all her strength. Her mental powers
were very considerable; and undoubtedly she might have attained to
eminence on her own account, for she herself discovered no fewer than
eight comets. But she shunned self-glorification; she desired to live in
her brother's shadow; she worked for him, never for herself; and in her
elevated character no feature more strongly demands our admiration than
her heroic though unconscious self-denial. Happy the man who has such a
sister; happy the sister whose brother is worthy of so much devotion! It
is pleasant to know that William Herschel deserved the love so lavishly
poured out at his feet; that great as were his achievements in science,
lofty and broad as was his genius, they were fully sustained and
ennobled by the beauty and worth of his inner life. Who can contemplate
their twofold career in all its singleness of purpose, its purity, its
unselfishness, its sublime disregard of worldly pleasures, without
emotion? The lessons told by such a life are worth all the moral
treatises ever written.

To Miss Herschel's diary we again refer, for a glimpse of the
occupations of her brother and herself at Slough in the first two years
of their residence. These two years, to use an apt expression of her
own, were spent in a perfect chaos of business. The garden and workrooms
swarmed with labourers and workmen--smiths and carpenters speeding to
and fro between the forge and the forty-foot machinery; and so incessant
was the vigilance of Herschel, that not a screw-bolt in the whole
apparatus was fixed except under his eye. "I have seen him," writes his
sister, "lying stretched many an hour in the burning sun, across the top
beam, whilst the iron-work for the various motions [of the great
telescope] was being fixed." At one time no fewer than twenty-four men,
in relays of twelve each, were engaged in grinding and polishing day and
night; and Herschel never left them, taking his food without allowing
himself time to sit down to table.

     "In August 1787," writes the diarist, "an additional
     man-servant was engaged, who would be wanted at the handles of
     the motions of the forty-foot,"--that is, to raise or lower it,
     or move it from side to side, as might be required,--"for which
     the mirror in the beginning of July was so far finished as to
     be used for occasional observations on trial. Such a person was
     also necessary for showing the telescopes to the curious
     strangers, as by their numerous visits my brother and myself
     had for some time past been much incommoded. In consequence of
     an application made through Sir J. Banks to the king, my
     brother had in August a second sum of £2000 granted for
     completing the forty-foot, and £200 yearly for the expense of
     repairs; such as ropes, painting, &c., and the keep and
     clothing of the men who attended at night. A salary of £50 a
     year was also settled on me, as an assistant to my brother. A
     great uneasiness was by this means removed from my mind; for
     though I had generally (and especially during the last busy six
     years) been almost the keeper of my brother's purse, with a
     charge to provide for my personal wants, only annexing in my
     accounts the memorandum '_For Car_.' to the sums so laid out.
     When cast up, they hardly amounted to seven or eight pounds per
     year since the time we had left Bath. Nothing but bankruptcy
     had all the while been running through my silly head, when
     looking at the sums of my weekly accounts, and knowing they
     could be but trifling in comparison with what had been and had
     yet to be paid in town. I will only add, that from this time
     the utmost activity prevailed to forward the completion of the
     forty-foot."

In recognition of his scientific triumphs, the honorary degree of LL.D
was conferred upon Herschel, in 1786, by the University of Oxford. They
were triumphs that well merited such a recognition. He had already made
some important observations on the nature of double stars, on the
dimensions of the telescopic planets, and had begun his famous
investigations into the composition of the nebulae,--those clusters of
stars and nebulous matter which had previously proved such a problem to
astronomers. The remarkable phenomenon of a periodical change of
intensity in certain stars, which wax and wane in radiance like a
revolving light, had also excited his attention. Further, he had entered
upon the experiments which ultimately showed that the Sun positively
moves; that in this, as in other respects, the magnificent orb of day
must be ranged among the stars; that the apparently inextricable
irregularities of numerous sidereal proper motions arise in great part
from the displacement of the Solar System; that, in short, the point of
space toward which Earth and its sister planets are annually advancing,
is situated in the constellation of Hercules.

"Let us," says a French writer, "to these immortal labours add the
ingenious ideas that we owe to Herschel on the nebulae, on the
constitution of the Milky Way, on the Universe as a whole,--ideas which
almost by themselves constitute the actual history of the formation of
the worlds,--and we cannot but have a deep reverence for that powerful
genius that scarcely ever erred, notwithstanding the ardour of its
imagination."

The ordinary spectator, looking upon the face of the heavens through a
telescope, had, prior to Herschel's time, felt his curiosity excited by
the appearance here and there of filmy patches, vague in structure and
irregular in shape, which, from their resemblance to clouds, received
the name of _nebulae_. What these were, no astronomer had succeeded in
defining. It was left for Herschel, with his rare powers of patient and
discriminating observation, assisted by the more powerful instruments
which his ingenuity succeeded in constructing, to discern in them
innumerable groups of worlds, in various stages of formation! A new
light was thrown upon the history of the Universe. Man was able to
assist, as it were, at the process of creation, and to watch the
development of a mass of incoherent matter into a perfect star. This
alone was a discovery which might well have immortalised the name of
Herschel.

But we owe to him the elements of our knowledge of the Sun's physical
constitution. He swept aside the erroneous theories and conjectures
which had previously prevailed, and guided the astronomical inquirer
into the right path. He convinced himself, by long and patient
researches, that the luminous envelope of the great "orb of day" was
neither a liquid nor an elastic fluid; that it was in certain respects
analogous to the clouds which wreathe our mountain-summits and fertilize
our plains; that it floated in the solar atmosphere. Thence he came to
the conclusion that the Sun has two atmospheres, endowed with motions
quite independent of each other. An elastic fluid, now known as the
_photosphere_, is in course of continual formation on the dark rugged
surface of the solar mass; and rising, on account of its specific
lightness, it forms the _pores_ in the stratum of reflecting clouds;
then, combining with other gases, it produces the irregularities or
furrows in the luminous cloud-region. When the ascending currents are
powerful, they create those appearances which astronomers designate the
_nuclei_, the _penumbrae_, the _faculae_.

Such was Herschel's explanation of the mode of formation of the solar
spots; and allowing it to be well-founded, we must expect to find--what
is, indeed, the case--that the Sun does not always and regularly pour
forth equal quantities of light and heat. It is true that Herschel's
hypothesis has been modified by later astronomers; but his is the credit
of having directed them into the right course of inquiry and
observation.

       *       *       *       *       *

The physical constitution of the Moon was a subject which also engaged
the attention of our indefatigable enthusiast. As early as 1780 he
attempted the measurement of the lunar mountains, and came to the
conclusion that few of them exceeded 2600 feet in height. Later
research, however, has proved these figures to be inadequate. Next he
addressed himself to a study of the lunar volcanoes, three of which he
declared to be in a state of ignition; two of them apparently on the
decline, the third still active. He was so convinced of the reality of
the phenomenon, that on the 20th of April 1787 he wrote:--"The volcano
burns with greater violence than it did last night." The real diameter
of the volcanic light he estimated at 16,400 feet. Its intensity he
described as superior to that of the nucleus of a comet then flashing
across our system. The objects situated near the crater were fully
illuminated by the glare of its burning matter.

It may seem strange that, after observations so exact and minute, few
astronomers now admit the existence of active volcanoes in the Moon. The
reasons for their incredulity are thus stated:--

The various parts of the Moon do not all reflect with the same
intensity. Here, that intensity may be dependent on the form;
elsewhere, on the nature of the materials. Those persons who have
examined the lunar orb with telescopes, know how very considerable the
difference arising from these two causes may be,--with how much keener
and stronger a radiance one point of the Moon will sometimes shine than
those around it. Well, it would seem to be obvious that the ratio of
intensity between the brilliant parts and the faint parts must always be
the same, whatever the origin of the illuminating light. In that portion
of the lunar sphere which receives the glow and glory of the sun, we
know that some points exist, the brightness of which is extraordinary
compared with the feeble flickering gleam of those around them. And
these same points, when seen in the dim reflection of the Earth, will
still predominate in intensity over the neighbouring regions. In this
way Arago and others explain the observations of Herschel, without
admitting the existence of active volcanoes in the Moon. That volcanoes
there are, is a familiar fact; but they would seem to have exhausted
their activity in long-past ages. The lunar surface is now a dreary
waste of rugged lava and ashes, covered with the matter ejected from
craters once in a state of furious eruption. The Moon, in fact, is a
world which has burned itself out. How strange the thought that in a
far-back period the inhabitants of Earth, had Earth then been inhabited,
might have seen the glare of countless volcanoes diffused, lurid and
threatening, over the face of their satellite! How strange the thought
that the once active fires should all have died away, and the Moon have
thus been prepared for the better reception and reflection of the solar
radiance in order to illuminate the nights of Earth!

The planets, needless to say, were the objects of Herschel's assiduous
attention. Mercury was the one which least interested him; but he
ascertained the perfect circularity of its disc. With respect to Venus,
he endeavoured to determine the time of its rotation from 1777. We owe
to him the discovery of the true shape of the "red planet Mars,"--that,
like the Earth, it is an oblate spheroid, or flattened at the poles.
After Piazzi, Olbers, and Harding had discovered the small planets,
Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta, he applied himself to the measurement
of their angular diameters. His researches led him to the conclusion
that these four new bodies could not properly be ranked with the
planets, and he proposed to call them Asteroids--a name now generally
adopted. Since Herschel's time, the number of these minor planets known
to astronomers has increased to upwards of one hundred.

With respect to Jupiter, our astronomer arrived at some important facts
in connection with the duration of its rotation. He also made numerous
observations on the intensities and comparative magnitudes of its
satellites.

We come next in order to Saturn, the gloomy planet which the ancient
astrologers regarded with so much dislike. Here, too, we find traces
of Herschel's labours. Not only has he enlarged our knowledge of its
equatorial compression, of its physical constitution, and of the
rotation of its luminous belt or ring, but he added two to the number
of its satellites. Five only of these were known at the close of the
seventeenth century; of which Cussiric discovered four, and Huygens one.
It was universally believed that the subject was exhausted.

But, on the 28th of August 1780, Herschel's colossal tube revealed to
his delighted gaze a satellite nearer to the Saturnian ring than those
previously observed. And a few days later, on the 17th of September, a
seventh and last satellite crossed his field of vision. It was situated
between the former and the ring; that is, it is the nearest to it of the
seven.

But the most remarkable of Herschel's achievements was the discovery of
the planet Uranus, and the detection of its satellites.

On the 13th of March 1781, between ten and eleven o'clock at night, the
great astronomer was engaged in examining the small stars near H in the
constellation Gemini, with a seven-foot telescope, bearing a magnifying
power of two hundred and twenty-seven times. It appeared to him that
one of these stars was of an unusual diameter; and he came to the
conclusion, therefore, that it was a comet. It was under this
denomination that it was discussed at the meeting of the Royal Society.
But the researches of Herschel at a later period showed that the orbit
of the new body was circular, and accordingly it was elevated to the
rank of a planet. As already stated, Herschel named it, in compliment to
George III., the Georgium Sidus; in this copying the example of Galileo
with his "Medicaean stars." Afterwards, astronomers christened it
Herschel, and subsequently Uranus, in conformity with the mythological
nomenclature of the other planets.

The immense distance of Uranus from our Earth, its small angular
diameter, and the feebleness of its light, seemed to preclude the hope
that, if it were attended by satellites of the same dimensions in
proportion to its own magnitude as those of the satellites of Jupiter
and Saturn in proportion to _their_ magnitude, they could be descried by
any human observer. The patient, persevering, reverent temper of
Herschel took no account, however, of any discouraging or unpropitious
circumstances. What he did was to substitute for telescopes of the
ordinary construction the new and gigantic forty-foot tube already
described; and, thus, with unremitting vigilance and intense zeal, he
arrived at the discovery (between January 4, 1787, and February 28,
1794) of the _six_ satellites of Uranus; in other words, he revealed to
man the completeness of a new system,--a system which will always be
identified with his name.

       *       *       *       *       *

Those singular meteors, the comets, which flash through heaven with long
trails of light, and of old astonished the nations as if they were
harbingers of some overwhelming calamity, were also the frequent
subjects of our astronomer's investigations. He brought some of his fine
and powerful instruments to bear on a comet discovered by Mr. Pigott in
1807, and closely and carefully investigated its physical constitution.

The nucleus, or head, was circular and well determined, and evidently
shone by its own light. Very small stars seemed to grow pale, "to hide
their diminished heads," when seen through its _coma_ or tail. It is
true, however, that this faintness may have been only apparent, and due
to the circumstance of the stars being projected on a luminous
background. Such was Herschel's explanation. A gaseous medium, capable
of absorbing sufficient solar radiance to efface the light of some
"lesser stars," appeared to him to possess in each stratum a sensible
quantity of matter. Hence it would cause a real diminution of the light
transmitted, though nothing would indicate the existence of such a
cause.[1]

[Footnote 1: This conclusion is disputed by many astronomers.]

Herschel examined the beautiful comet of 1811 with equal accuracy.
"Large telescopes showed him, in the midst of the gaseous head, a rather
reddish body of planetary appearance, which bore strong magnifying
powers, and showed no sign of _phase_ (that is, of change of aspect, as
in the case of the Moon). Hence Herschel concluded that it was
self-luminous. Yet, if we reflect that the planetary body under
consideration was not a second in diameter, the absence of a phase,"
says Arago, "does not appear a demonstrative argument."

The same writer adds:--

     "The light of the head had a bluish-green tint." Was this a
     real tint, or did the central reddish body, only through
     contrast, make the surrounding vapour appear to be coloured?
     Herschel did not examine the question from this point of view.

     "The head of the comet appeared to be enveloped at a certain
     distance, on the side towards the Sun, by a brilliant narrow
     zone, embracing about a semicircle, and of a yellowish colour.
     From the two extremities of the semicircle arose, towards the
     region away from the Sun, two long luminous streaks which
     limited the tail. Between the brilliant circular semi-ring and
     the head, the cometary substance appeared to be dark, of great
     rarity, and very diaphanous.

     "The luminous self-ring floated: one day it seemed to be
     suspended in the diaphanous atmosphere by which the head of the
     comet was surrounded, at a distance of 322,000 English miles
     from the nucleus.

     "This distance was not constant. The matter of the semi-annular
     envelope seemed even to be precipitated by slow degrees through
     the diaphanous atmosphere; finally, it reached the nucleus; the
     earlier appearances vanished; the comet was reduced to a
     globular nebula.

     "During its period of dissolution, the ring appeared sometimes
     to have several branches.

     "The luminous shreds of the tail apparently underwent rapid,
     frequent, and considerable variations of length. Herschel
     discerned symptoms of a rotatory movement both in the comet and
     its tail; a movement which carried unequal shreds from the
     centre towards the border, and the border towards the centre.
     On examining at intervals the same region of the tail--the
     border, for example--sensible changes of length must have been
     perceptible; which, however, had no reality in them. Herschel
     thought that both the comet of 1811 and that of 1807 were
     self-luminous. The second comet of 1811 appeared to him to
     shine only by borrowed light. It must be acknowledged that
     these conjectures did not rest on anything demonstrative.

     "In attentively comparing the comet of 1807 with the beautiful
     comet of 1811, relative to the changes of distance from the
     Sun, and the modifications resulting thence, Herschel put it
     beyond doubt that these modifications have something individual
     in them,--something relative to a special state of the nebulous
     matter. On one celestial body the changes of distance produce
     an enormous effect, on another the modifications are
     insignificant."

We have reproduced these observations by a distinguished French
astronomer, in order to show the reader what was the nature, and how
great was the importance, of Herschel's labours, and in how remarkable
and comprehensive a manner he conducted his survey of the celestial
phenomena. We now return to our brief narrative of his life.

Such a life, absorbed in tranquil and incessant studies, presents no
curious, romantic, or surprising incidents. It was the life of a
reverent, patient, gentle, and devoted man of genius, who dedicated
himself to the task of making known the "wondrous works of God" to his
fellow-men, and who in all his social and domestic relations was without
blot or stain.

In 1788 he married the widow of John Pitt, Esq., with whom he received
a considerable fortune, and thus for the remainder of his life he was
enabled to give himself up to his favourite pursuits unembarrassed by
pecuniary anxieties. His marriage was in every respect a happy one, and
effectually secured his domestic peace. By his wife he had an only
son,--the late Sir John Herschel,--who worthily maintained the
scientific dignity of his name.

It is said, by the highest of all authority, that a prophet is not
honoured in his own country. But our astronomer was not without the
reward of his work, even in his lifetime. The University of Oxford
conferred upon him the illustrious honorary degree of D.C.L. In 1816 he
received the Guelphic order of knighthood; and in 1820 he was chosen the
first president of the Astronomical Society.

From his sister's diary we gather a few particulars illustrative of his
mode of life.

On the 4th of October 1806 she writes:--


     "My brother came from Brighton. The same night two parties from
     the castle [Windsor] came to see the comet, and during the
     whole month my brother had not an evening to himself. As he was
     then in the midst of polishing the forty-foot mirror, rest
     became absolutely necessary after a day spent in that most
     laborious work; and it has ever been my opinion, that on the
     14th of October his nerves received a shock of which he never
     got the better afterwards; for on that day (in particular) he
     had hardly dismissed his troop of men, when visitors assembled,
     and from the time it was dark till past midnight he was on the
     grass-plot, surrounded by between fifty and sixty persons,
     without having had time for putting on proper clothing, or for
     the least nourishment passing his lips.

     "_February 6th, 1807_.--When I came to Slough to assist my
     brother in polishing the forty-foot mirror, I found my
     nephew[1] very ill with an inflammatory sore throat and fever.

     "_February 9th_.--Still very ill; and my brother obliged to go
     on with the polishing of the great mirror, as every arrangement
     had been made for that purpose.--_Mem_. I believe my brother
     had reasons for choosing the cold season for this laborious
     work, the exertion of which alone must put any man into a
     fever, if he were ever so strong.

     "_February 10th_.--From this day my nephew's health kept on
     mending.

     "_February 19th_.--My nephew mending, but my brother not well.

     "_February 26th_.--My brother so ill that I was not allowed to
     see him, and till March 8th his life was despaired of; and by
     March 10th I was permitted to see him, but only for two or
     three minutes, as he was not allowed to speak.

     "_March 22nd_.--He (Sir William) went for the first time into
     his library, but could only remain for a few moments."

     [Footnote 1: Afterwards Sir John Herschel.]

From this dangerous attack Sir William recovered, but thenceforth it
was clear to his friends that his strength gradually decreased, though
not his enthusiasm or his industry. He persevered in his life-long
labours with all his old intellectual force. What failed him was neither
his tender affections nor his mental powers; but his body refused to
answer all the demands made upon it by the resolute will,--the sword was
slowly but surely wearing out the scabbard. Under the date of April 2,
1819, we meet with an ominous entry in his loving and faithful sister's
diary:--


     "My brother left Slough, accompanied by Lady Herschel, for
     Bath, he being very unwell; and the constant complaint of
     giddiness in the head so much increased, that they were obliged
     to be four nights on the road both going and coming. The last
     moments before he stepped into the carriage were spent in
     walking with me through his library and workrooms, pointing
     with anxious looks to every shelf and drawer, desiring me to
     examine all, and to make memorandums of them as well as I
     could. He was hardly able to support himself; and his spirits
     were so low, that I found difficulty in commanding my voice so
     far as to give him the assurance he should find on his return
     that my time had not been misspent.

     "When I was left alone, I found that I had no easy task to
     perform, for there were packets of writings to be examined
     which had not been looked at for the last forty years. But I
     did not pass a single day without working in the library as
     long as I could read a letter without candlelight, and taking
     with me papers to copy, which employed me for best part of the
     night; and thus I was enabled to give my brother a clear
     account of what had been done at his return. But (May 1) he
     returned home much worse than he went, and for several days
     hardly noticed my handiwork."

To this same year of decay and decline (1819) belongs a small slip of
yellow paper, inscribed with the following lines in a tremulous and
feeble handwriting, which is jealously preserved by the illustrious
astronomer's descendants:--


     "LINA,--There is a great comet. I want you to assist me. Come
     to dine, and spend the day here. If you can come soon after one
     o'clock, we shall have time to prepare maps and telescopes. I
     saw its situation last night,--it has a long tail.

     "_July 4, 1819_."

Then follows:--


     "I keep this as a relic! Every line _now_ traced by the hand of
     my dear brother becomes a treasure to me.

     "C. HERSCHEL."

We know of nothing more touching in literary history than this noble,
self-sacrificing, generous affection of the sister towards her eminent
brother. Such instances of absolute self-denial and all-absorbing love
elevate our opinion of human nature generally, and prove that something
of the Divine image lingers in it still.

Herschel was now bordering upon the ripe old age of eighty, and it is no
wonder that, after a life of incessant study, his strength should daily
diminish. In 1822 it became painfully evident to his attached relatives
and friends that the end was not far off; and on the 25th of August he
passed away to his rest. We owe an account of his last days to his
sister, but for whose pious care, indeed, very little of his private
life would have been known, and Herschel could have been judged only
from the recorded results of his immense labours.


     "_May 20th_.--The summer proved very hot; my brother's feeble
     nerves were very much affected, and there being in general much
     company, added to the difficulty of choosing the most airy
     rooms for his retirement.

     "_July 8th_.--I had a dawn of hope that my brother might regain
     once more a little strength, for I have a memorandum in my
     almanac of his walking with a firmer step than usual above
     three or four times the distance from the dwelling-house to the
     library, in order to gather and eat raspberries, in his garden,
     with me. But I never saw the like again.

     "The latter end of July I was seized by a bilious fever, and I
     could for several days only rise for a few hours to go to my
     brother about the time he was used to see me. But one day I was
     entirely confined to my bed, which alarmed Lady Herschel and
     the family _on my brother's account_. Miss Baldwin [a niece of
     Lady Herschel] called and found me in despair about my own
     confused affairs, which I never had had time to bring into any
     order. The next day she brought my nephew to me, who promised
     to fulfil all my wishes which I should have expressed on paper;
     he begged me not to exert myself, for his father's sake, of
     whom he believed _it would be the immediate death if anything
     should happen to me_."

Afterwards she wrote:--


     "Of my dear nephew's advice I could not avail myself, for I
     knew that at that time he had weighty concerns on his mind.
     And, besides, my whole life almost has passed away in the
     delusion that, next to my eldest brother, none but Dietrich was
     capable of giving me advice where to leave my few relics,
     consisting of a few books and my sweeper [that is, the
     seven-foot telescope with which she was accustomed to sweep the
     heavens for comets]. And for the last twenty years I kept to
     the resolution of never opening my lips to my dear brother
     William about worldly concerns, let me be ever so much at a
     loss for knowing right from wrong."

Miss Herschel proceeds to note that on the afternoons of the 11th, 12th,
13th, and 14th of August, she, "as usual," spent some hours with her
brother.

On the 15th she hastened to the accustomed place, where she generally
found him, with the newspaper which she was to read aloud for his
amusement. But, instead, she found assembled there several of his
nearest friends, who informed her that her aged brother had been
compelled to return to his room. She lost no time in seeking him. He was
attended by Lady Herschel and his housekeeper, who were administering
everything which was likely to keep up his failing strength.

Miss Herschel observed that he was much irritated, with the irritation
natural to old age and extreme bodily feebleness, at his inability to
grant a friend's request for some token of remembrance for his father.
No sooner did he see Miss Herschel, the loving companion and
fellow-worker of so many years, than he characteristically employed her
to fetch one of his last papers, and a plate (or map) of the forty-foot
telescope. "But, for the universe," says Miss Herschel, "I could not
have looked twice at what I had snatched from the shelf; and when he
faintly asked if the breaking up of the Milky Way[1] was in it, I said,
'Yes,' and he looked content." I cannot help remembering this
circumstance; it was the last time I was sent to the library on such an
occasion. That the anxious care for his papers and workrooms never ended
but with his life, was proved by his frequent whispered inquiries if
they were locked and the key safe; of which I took care to assure him
that they were, and the key in Lady Herschel's hands.

[Footnote 1: The _Via Lactea_, or "Milky Way," had long been supposed to
consist of a nebulous, vague, luminous matter, but Herschel showed that
it was really made up of stars and systems of stars.]

After struggling for some thirty minutes against his rapidly increasing
weakness, the great astronomer, bowed by his burden of years and
labours, was forced to retire to his bed, with little hope that he would
ever rise from it again. For ten days and nights his wife and sister
watched by his side in painful suspense, until, on the 25th of August,
the end came. Peacefully closed a life which had passed in a peace and
quietness not often vouchsafed to man.

       *       *       *       *       *

Herschel, says a brother astronomer, will never cease to occupy an
eminent place in the small group of our contemporary men of genius,
while his name will descend to the most distant posterity. The variety
and the magnificence of his labours vie with their extent. The more they
are studied, the more they are admired. For it is with great men as it
is with great movements in the Arts and in national history,--we cannot
understand them without observing them from different points of view.

What a brilliant roll of achievements is recalled to the mind by the
name of William Herschel! The discovery of Uranus, and of its
satellites; of the fifth and sixth satellites of Saturn; of the many
spots at the poles of Mars; of the rotation of Saturn's ring; of the
belts of Saturn; of the rotation of Jupiter's satellites; of the daily
period of Saturn and Venus; and of the motions of binary sidereal
systems,--added to his investigations into nebulae, the Milky Way, and
double, triple, and multiple stars;--all this we owe to his patient, his
persevering, his daring genius! He may almost be styled the Father of
Modern Astronomy.




CHAPTER IV.


We now propose to furnish a brief sketch of the life of Sir John
Frederick William Herschel, the only son of Sir William, and not less
illustrious as a man of science.

He was born at Slough, in the year 1792. Evincing considerable talents
at a very early age, he received a careful private education under Mr.
Rogers, a Scottish mathematician of distinguished merit; and afterwards
was sent to St. John's College, Cambridge, always famous as a nursery of
mathematical and scientific prodigies! Here he pursued his studies with
remarkable success, suffering no obstacles to daunt him, and wasting no
opportunities of improvement. His fellow-collegians regarded him as one
who would add to the high repute of the college, and rejoiced at the
brilliant ease with which he passed every examination. In 1813 he took
his degree of B.A., and consummated a long series of successes by
becoming "senior wrangler," and "Smith's prizeman;" these being the two
highest distinctions to which a Cambridge scholar can attain.

In the same year, when he was hardly twenty-one, he published a work
entitled, "A Collection of Examples of the Application of the Calculus
to Finite Differences." To our young readers such a title will convey no
meaning; and we refer to it here only to illustrate the industry and
careful thought of the young student, which had rendered possible such a
result.

Returning to Slough, he continued his studies in mathematics, chemistry,
and natural philosophy, and in various publications exhibited that
faculty of observation and analyzation, that intelligence and
scrupulousness in collecting facts, and that boldness in deducing new
inferences from them, which were characteristic of his illustrious
father. The subjects he took up were so abstruse, that we could not hope
to make our readers understand what he accomplished, or how far he
excelled his predecessors in his grasp and comprehension of them. For
instance: if we tell them that in 1820 he wrote a paper "On the Theory
and Summation of Series;" communicated to the Cambridge Philosophical
Society his discovery that the two kinds of rotatory polarization in
rock crystal were related to the plagihedral faces of that mineral; and
issued an able treatise "On Certain Remarkable Instances of Deviation
from Newton's Tints in the Polarized Tints of Uniaxal Crystals,"--they
will gain no very distinct idea of the significance or value of these
researches. Again: it will not be very intelligible to them to be
informed that, in 1822, he communicated to the Royal Society of
Edinburgh a paper "On the Absorption of Light by Coloured Media", in
which he enunciated a new method of measuring the dispersion of
transparent bodies by stopping the green, yellow, and most refrangible
red rays, and thus rendering visible the rays situated rigorously at the
end of the spectrum. But they will understand that these results could
have been attained only by the most assiduous industry and the most
unflinching perseverance. And it is on account of this industry and
this perseverance that we recommend Herschel as an example to our
readers. They may not make the same progress in science, or achieve the
same reputation. It is not necessary they should. Humble work is not
less honourable, if it be done conscientiously, and with a sincere
desire to do the best that it is in our power to do.

An interesting feature in the younger Herschel's character was his
loving care for his father's fame. He was ever most anxious that the
full measure of his services to science should be recognized and
appreciated. Thus, in 1823, he writes to his aunt:--


     "I have been long threatening to send you a long letter, but
     have always been prevented by circumstances and want of leisure
     from executing my intention. The truth is, I have been so much
     occupied with astronomy of late, that I have had little time
     for anything else--the reduction of those double stars, and the
     necessity it has put me under of looking over the journals,
     reviews, &c, for information on what has already been done, and
     in many cases of re-casting up my father's measures, swallows
     up a great deal of time and labour. But I have the satisfaction
     of being able to state that our results in most instances
     confirm and establish my father's views in a remarkable manner.
     These inquiries have taken me off the republication of his
     printed papers for the present.

     "I think I shall be adding more to his fame by pursuing and
     verifying his observations than by reprinting them. But I have
     by no means abandoned the idea. Meanwhile, I am not sorry to
     hear they are about to be translated into German.... I hope
     this season to commence a series of observations with the
     twenty-foot reflector, which is now in fine order. The
     forty-foot is no longer capable of being used, but I shall
     suffer it to stand as a monument."

       *       *       *       *       *

In reference to this famous telescope, we may digress to state that its
remains have been carefully preserved.

The metal tube of the instrument, carrying at one end the recently
cleaned mirror of four feet ten inches in diameter, has been placed
horizontally in the meridian line, on solid piles of masonry, in the
midst of the circle where the apparatus used in manoeuvring it was
formerly placed. On the 1st of January 1840, Sir John Herschel, his
wife, their seven children, and some old family servants, assembled at
Slough. Exactly at noon the party walked several times in procession
round the instrument; they then entered the gigantic tube, seated
themselves on benches previously prepared, and chanted a requiem with
English words composed by Sir John Herschel himself. Then issuing from
the tube, they ranged themselves around it, while its opening was
hermetically sealed.

       *       *       *       *       *

In March 1821, the younger Herschel, in conjunction with Sir James
South, undertook a series of observations on the distances and positions
of three hundred and eighty double and triple stars, by means of two
splendid achromatic telescopes of five and seven focal length. These
were continued during 1822 and 1823, and have proved of great service to
astronomers.

Having pursued with much zeal the study of optics, and experimented
largely and carefully on the double refraction and polarization of
light, he compiled a treatise on the subject for the "Encyclopaedia
Metropolitana" It has been translated into French by M. Quetelet; and
both foreign and English men of science have been accustomed to regard
it as indicating a new point of departure in the important branch of
science to which it is devoted.

Astronomy, however, became for him, as for his father, the great
pursuit of his laborious life; and having constructed telescopes of
singular magnitude and power, he entered upon a study of the Sidereal
World. In 1825 he commenced a careful re-examination of the numerous
nebulae and starry clusters which had been discovered by his father, and
described in the "Philosophical Transactions," fixing their positions
and investigating their aspects. He devoted eight years to this _magnum
opus_, completing it in 1832. The catalogue which he then contributed to
the "Philosophical Transactions" includes 2306 nebulae and
star-clusters, of which 525 were discovered by himself. While engaged in
this difficult task, Herschel discovered between three and four thousand
double stars, which he described in the Memoirs of the Astronomical
Society. His observations were made with an excellent Newtonian
telescope, twenty feet in focal length, and eighteen and a half inches
in aperture; and having obtained, to use his own expression, "a
sufficient mastery over the instrument," the idea occurred to him of
making it available for a survey of the southern heavens. Accordingly,
he left England on the 13th of November 1833, and arrived at Cape Town
on the 16th of January 1834. Five days later he wrote to his aunt as
follows:--


     "Here we are safely lauded and comfortably housed at the far
     end of Africa; and having secured the landing and final storage
     of all the telescopes and other matters, as far as I can see,
     without the slightest injury, I lose no time in reporting to
     you our good success _so far_. M----[1] and the children are,
     thank God, quite well; though, for fear you should think her
     too good a sailor, I ought to add that she continued sea-sick,
     at intervals, during the whole passage. We were nine weeks and
     two days at sea, during which period we experienced only one
     day of contrary wind. We had a brisk breeze 'right aft' all the
     way from the Bay of Biscay (which we never entered) to the
     'calm latitudes;' that is to say, to the space about five or
     six degrees broad near the equator, where the trade-winds
     cease, and where it is no unusual thing for a ship to lie
     becalmed for a month or six weeks, frying under a vertical sun.
     Such, however, was not our fate. We were detained only three or
     four days by the calms usual in that zone, but never _quite_
     still, or driven out of our course; and immediately on crossing
     'the line' got a good breeze (the south-east trade-wind), which
     carried us round Trinidad; then exchanged it for a north-west
     wind, which, with the exception of one day's squall from the
     south-east, carried us straight into Table Bay. On the night of
     the 14th we were told to prepare to see the Table Mountain.
     Next morning (_N.B._, we had not seen land before since leaving
     England), at dawn, the welcome word land' was heard; and there
     stood this magnificent hill, with all its attendant
     mountain-range down to the farthest point of South Africa, full
     in view, with a clear blue ghost-like outline; and that night
     we cast anchor within the Bay. Next morning early we landed,
     under escort of Dr. Stewart, M----'s brother, and you may
     imagine the meeting. We took up our quarters at a most
     comfortable lodging-house (Miss Robe's), and I proceeded,
     without loss of time, to unship the instruments. This was no
     trifling operation, as they filled (with the rest of our
     luggage) fifteen large boats; and, owing to the difficulty of
     getting them up from the hold of the ship, required several
     days to complete the landing. During the whole time (and indeed
     up to this moment) not a single south-east gale, the summer
     torment of this harbour, has occurred. This is a thing almost
     unheard of here, and has indeed been most fortunate, since
     otherwise it is not at all unlikely that some of the boats,
     laden as they were to the water's edge, might have been lost,
     and the whole business crippled.

     [Footnote 1: Herschel married a Miss Stewart in February 1826.]

     "For the last two or three days we have been looking at houses,
     and have all but agreed for one--a most beautiful place within
     four or five miles out of town, called 'The Grove.' In point of
     situation it is a perfect paradise, in rich and magnificent
     mountain-scenery, and sheltered from all winds, even the fierce
     south-easter, by thick surrounding woods. I must reserve for my
     next all description of the gorgeous display of flowers which
     adorns this splendid country, as well as of the astonishing
     brilliancy of the constellations, which the calm, clear nights
     show off to great advantage."

Mr. Herschel settled at Feldhausen, about 142 feet above the sea, and in
long. 22° 46' 9".11 E., and lat. 33° 58' 26".59 S. Here he entered upon
his great series of observations of the southern heavens, which he
continued with unwearied ardour for a period of four years. The results
were afterwards published, at the cost of the Duke of Northumberland, in
a work entitled "Results of Astronomical Observations made in
1834-35-36-37-38, at the Cape of Good Hope." In this superb work, which
placed its author on an equality with the most brilliant and illustrious
astronomers, he defined and described 4015 of the nebulae and
star-groups in the southern hemisphere, and 2995 of the double stars;
besides entering into a variety of valuable particulars relative to
Halley's comet, the solar spots, the satellites of Saturn, and the
measurement of the apparent magnitude of stars.

On his return to England (in 1838) the astronomer received a noble
welcome. Honours poured in upon him. The Gold Medal of the Astronomical
Society was conferred upon him for a second time. William IV. had
previously distinguished him with the Hanoverian order of K.H.; but, on
the coronation of Queen Victoria, he received a baronetcy; and in 1839
the University of Oxford made him a D.C.L.

Continuing his career of scientific industry, he issued, in 1849, his
important and very valuable treatise entitled "Outlines of Astronomy."
In 1845, he was appointed President of the British Association; and in
1848, of the Royal Astronomical Society. To his other honours was added
that of Chevalier of the Prussian order, "Pour la Mérite," founded by
Frederick the Great, and bestowed at all times with a discrimination
which renders it a deeply-coveted distinction. Of the academies and
leading scientific institutions of the Continent and the United States,
he was also an honorary or corresponding member.

Besides his works on meteorology and physical geography, he published,
in 1867, an admirable little volume--"Familiar Lectures on Scientific
Subjects." In this he showed that he could write with as much ease and
intelligibility for the general public as for the higher order of
scientific inquirers. His style in this valuable manual of information
has a charm of its own, and entices the reader into the consideration of
subjects apparently abstruse. He is earned on from page to page without
any great mental effort, and finds himself rapidly mastering
difficulties which he had been accustomed to regard as insuperable.

Let us take the first lecture on "Volcanoes and Earthquakes," and obtain
a glimpse of Herschel's mode of treatment. He refers to the greater and
more permanent agencies which affect the configuration of our planet.
Everywhere, he says, and along every coast-line, we see the sea warring
against the land, and overcoming it; wearing it and eating it down, and
battering it to pieces; grinding those pieces to powder; carrying that
powder away, and spreading it out over its own bottom, by the continued
effect of the tides and currents. What a scene of continual activity is
presented by the chalk-cliffs of Old England! How they are worn, and
broken up, and fantastically sculptured by the influence of winds and
waters! Precipices cut down to the sea-beach, constantly hammered by the
waves, and constantly crumbling; the beach itself made of the flints
outstanding after the softer chalk has been ground down and washed
away; themselves grinding one another under the same ceaseless
discipline--first rounded into pebbles, then worn into sand, and then
carried further and further down the slope, to be replaced by fresh ones
from the same source. Here the likeness of an old Gothic cathedral, with
lofty arch, and shapely pinnacle; there the similitude of a mass of
medieval fortifications, with crumbling battlements and shattered
towers!

The same thing, the same waste and wear, is going on everywhere, round
every coast. The rivers contribute their share to the great work of
change. Look at the sand-banks at the mouth of the Thames. What are
they, says Sir John Herschel, but the materials of our island carried
out to sea by the stream? The Ganges carries away from the soil of
India, and delivers into the sea, twice as much solid substance weekly
as is contained in the Great Pyramid of Egypt. The Irawaddy sweeps off
from Burmah sixty-two cubic feet of earth in every second of time, on an
average Sometimes vast amount of earthy materials is transferred from
one locality to another by river agency, as is the case in the deltas
of the Nile and the Mississippi.

These changes operate silently, continuously, and unperceived by the
ordinary observer; but Nature does not limit herself always and
everywhere to such peaceful agencies. At times, and in certain places,
she acts with startling abruptness and extraordinary violence. Let the
volcano and the earthquake attest the immensity of her power. Let the
earthquake tell how, within the memory of man, the whole coast-line of
Chili, for 100 miles about Valparaiso, with the mighty chain of the
Andes, was hoisted at one blow, and in a single night (November 19,
1822), from two to seven feet above its former level, leaving the beach
below the old low-water mark high and dry. One of the Andean peaks
upheaved on this occasion was the colossal mass of Aconcagua, which
overlooks Valparaiso, and measures nearly 24,000 feet in height. On the
same occasion, at least 10,000 square miles of country were estimated as
having been upheaved; and the upheaval was not confined to the land, but
extended far away to sea,--which was proved by the soundings off
Valparaiso and along the coast having been found considerably shallower
than they were before the shock.

In the year 1819, in an earthquake in India, in the district of Cutch,
bordering on the Indus, a tract of country more than fifty miles long
and sixteen miles broad was suddenly raised _ten feet_ above its former
level. The raised portion still stands up above the unraised, like a
long perpendicular rampart, known by the name of Ullah Bund, or God's
Wall.

       *       *       *       *       *

With a similar fertility of illustration, Herschel sets before us the
phenomena of volcanic eruptions and their extraordinary effects.

In a district of Mexico, between the two streams of the Cintimba and the
San Pedro, on the 28th of September 1789, a whole tract of ground, from
three to four miles in extent, surged up like a foam-bubble, or the
swell of a wave, to a height of upwards of 500 feet. Flames, lurid and
crackling, broke forth over a surface of more than half a square league;
and the earth, as if softened by heat, was seen to rise and sink like
the rolling tide. Vast chasms opened in the earth, into which the two
rivers poured their waters headlong; reappearing afterwards at no great
distance from a cluster of _hornitos_, or small volcanic cones, which
sprang out of the mighty mud-torrent that gradually covered the entire
plain. Wonderful and awful as were these phenomena, they were surpassed
by the sudden opening of a chasm which vomited forth fire, and red-hot
stones and ashes, until they accumulated in a range of six large
mountain masses,--one of which, now known as the volcano of Jorullo,
attains an altitude of 1690 feet above the ancient level.

In like manner Sir John proceeds to describe an eruption of Mount
Tomboro, in the island of Sumbawa, the influence of which was felt to a
distance of 1000 miles from its centre, in strange tremulous motions of
the earth, and in the clash and clang of loud explosions. He says that
he had seen it computed that the quantity of ashes and lava ejected in
the course of this tremendous eruption would have formed three mountains
of the size of Mont Blanc.

As to the nature of the forces which operate to produce this astounding
result, Herschel puts forward a theory of singular simplicity and
directness.

"The origin," he says, "of such an enormous power thus occasionally
exerting itself, will no doubt seem very marvellous--little short,
indeed, of miraculous intervention; but the mystery, after all, is not
quite so great as at first it seems. We are permitted to look a little
way into these great secrets of Nature; not far enough, indeed, to clear
up every difficulty, but quite enough to penetrate us with admiration of
that wonderful system of counterbalances and compensations, that
adjustment of causes and consequences, by which, throughout all nature,
evils are made to work their own cure, life to spring out of death, and
renovation to tread in the steps and efface the vestiges of decay." And
he finds the clew to the secret, the key of the whole matter, in the
earth's vast central heat. This it is which produces the convulsions
that change the terrestrial configuration, and fill the minds of men
with fear and awe. Conceive of "a sea of fire, on which we are all
floating, land and sea,"--a boiling, seething, incandescent reservoir in
the centre of our planet; and the solution of the problem will seem to
you not difficult. Such a sea would necessarily roll its liquid matter
to and fro; and the removal of ever so small a portion from one point to
another on the earth's surface would tend to disturb the equilibrium of
the floating mass; just as, when a ship is launched into the river, the
water it displaces is carried to the opposite bank with greater or less
violence, according to the amount of displacement.

It is impossible, adds Herschel, but that this increase of pressure in
some places and relief in others must be very unequal in their bearings.
So that at some point or another our planet's floating crust must be
brought into a state of strain, and if there be a weak or a soft part a
crack will at last take place. This is exactly what happened in the
earthquake which originated the Allah Bund, or God's Wall, in Cutch.

Volcanic eruptions are easily explicable on this principle,--the volcano
being simply a vent for the passage of heated and molten matter, which
the elevating pressure of the liquid below tends to eject. It is a
well-known fact that volcanoes and earthquake-centres are nearly all
situated on the borders or in the immediate neighbourhood of seas and
oceans; and the reason would seem to be, that at such positions the
accumulation of transported matter would necessarily attain its maximum,
to whatever cause it might be due. Then again, as Herschel points out,
the eruption of scorite and lava from the mouths of volcanoes, the
result of the upward movement of the fiery liquid below, compensates in
some degree for the downward transfer of material by detritus and
alluvial deposits. Hence it may be inferred that, on the whole, the
quantity of solid matter above the ocean-level probably remains nearly
always at the same amount.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is with this ease and lucidity that Sir John deals with scientific
subjects of the greatest importance,--his genius resembling the
elephant's trunk, which can balance a straw or rend an oak. In private
life he displayed a simplicity of manner in harmony with the general
unassumingness of his character. In his books as in society, in society
as in his books, he was the same,--that is, free from all ostentation,
free from self-pride, free from the arrogance of superior knowledge, and
as ready to unbend himself to a child as to discourse with men of
science.

His career was a tranquil and a prosperous one, and, apart from the
record of his discoveries and his honours, presents nothing of interest.
He was peculiarly happy in his domestic relations; and in the wide
circle of friends attracted by the mingled charm of his intellect and
manners. A devout Christian, a man of generosity and culture, a
philosopher of great breadth of view and infinite patience of
research,--we can place few better or brighter examples before our
English youth than Sir John Herschel.




CHAPTER V.


We could not conclude our notice of this remarkable family without some
further allusion to its not least remarkable member--Caroline Lucretia
Herschel.

To her varied accomplishments, her astronomical researches, and, above
all, to her unwearied and unselfish devotion to her brother William, we
have already made frequent allusion. She seemed to live for him and in
him, to live for his fame and prosperity; and she poured out at his feet
the treasures of an inexhaustible affection. To assist him in his
labours, at whatever sacrifice, was her sole object in life; and she was
certainly more careful for his reputation than was he himself. During
his declining years she was his principal stay and support, and she was
in daily attendance to note down or to calculate the results of his
observations. His death was a severe blow to her; but, with
characteristic courage, she retired to Hanover, gave herself up to
scientific pursuits, and in comparative solitude spent her later years.

Her biographer writes:--

     "When all was over, her only desire seems to have been to hurry
     away. Hardly was her brother laid in his grave than she
     collected the few things she cared to keep, and left for ever
     the country where she had spent fifty years of her life, living
     and toiling for him and him only. 'If I should leave off making
     memorandums of such events as affect or are interesting to me,
     I should feel like what I am,--namely, a person that has
     nothing more to do in this world.' Mournful words! doubly
     mournful, when we know that the writer had nearly half an
     ordinary lifetime still between her and that grave which she
     made haste to prepare, in the hope that her course was nearly
     run. Who can think of her, at the age of seventy-two,
     heart-broken and desolate, going back to the home of her youth
     in the fond expectation of finding consolation, without a pang
     of sympathetic pity? She found everything changed."

_That_, indeed, is to all of us the greatest grief, when we return to
the home of our youth. It is as if, during the years of our absence, we
had expected everything to stand as still as in the palace of the
Sleeping Beauty while the charm rested upon it. We are fain to see the
trees in their young greenness as when they sheltered our childhood, to
find the hedgerows blooming with the same violets, to hear the
mill-stream murmuring with the same music. Time furrows our brows with
wrinkles, and streaks our hair with silver; our hearts grow colder; our
minds lose their elasticity and freshness; our friends pass away from
our side. But still we think to ourselves that in the old scenes all
things are as they were. We say to ourselves: The bird sings as of old
in the elm-trees at the garden-foot; the rose-bush blossoms as of old
against our favourite window.

    "The varying year with blade and sheaf
      Clothes and re-clothes the happy plains;
    Here rests the sap within the leaf,
      Here stays the blood along the veins.
    Faint shadows, vapours lightly curled,
      Faint murmurs from the meadows come,
    Like hints and echoes of the world
      To spirits folded in the womb."

       *       *       *       *       *

But we regain the old familiar places, and, alas! we find that change
has been as busy with them as with us. The signs of decay are upon the
trees; the brook has ceased to flow; the rose-bush has withered to the
ground. There are trees as green and streams as musical and flowers as
sweet as in our youth; but they are not the streams or flowers or trees
which delighted us, and to us they can never be as dear. But a worse
alteration has taken place than any visible in the face of nature. We
discover that we have lost the old habits, the old capacity of
enjoyment; and we soon discover that it was the sympathies, the hopes,
the aspirations of youth which, after all, lent to these early scenes
their rare and irrecoverable attraction.

And thus it was that Miss Herschel found everything changed. A life of
fifty years spent in a certain routine and upon certain objects, had
unfitted her to tread in the old paths. It soon became clear to her that
all her ideas and feelings had been shaped and influenced in a totally
different path. More bitter still, we are told, she came to know that in
her great sorrow and inextinguishable love she was all alone. And
bitterest of all was the feeling that, in losing her brother she had
lost the glory of her life, the source of her intellectual enjoyment.
"You don't know," she wrote to a friend, "the blank of life after
having lived within the radiance of genius." Yet to live in this
blankness, and to do the best she could with it, became the work of
Caroline Lucretia Herschel at the age of threescore years and ten,--an
age when most of us have already put off our cares and anxieties, but
when she began to enter on a new life, with new habits, new duties, and
new associations.

Her interest in astronomical pursuits never slackened, and she watched
with eagerness the labours and successes of her nephew. The respect paid
to her in society as a "woman of science" was not unwelcome, though she
affected to make light of it. "You must give me leave," she wrote to Sir
John, "to send you any publications you can think of, without mentioning
anything about paying for them. For it is necessary I should every now
and then lay out a little of my spare cash in that, for the sake of
supporting the reputation of being a learned lady; (there is for you!)
for I am not only looked at for such a one, but even stared at here in
Hanover!" It was with unaffected modesty she deprecated the honorary
membership of the Irish Academy, conferred on one who, she said, had
not for many years discovered even a comet; yet she was by no means
insensible to the distinction. Every man of scientific eminence who
visited Hanover visited this aged lady; and her presence in the theatre,
even in her latest years, was a constant source of attraction. Such was
the simple frugality of her habits, that she experienced an actual
difficulty in disposing of her income. She affirmed that the largest sum
she could spend upon herself was £50 a year; and the annual pension of
£100, left by her brother, she refused, or else devoted the quarterly or
half-yearly payment to the purchase of some handsome present for her
nephew or niece.

Such was Caroline Lucretia Herschel; and as such she was a remarkable
proof that the rarest womanly gifts of affectionate forethought and
loving devotion may exist in combination with intellectual strength and
scientific enthusiasm.

Of the force, keenness, and permanency of her sisterly love, an
illustration of a pathetic character occurs in a letter which she
addressed to her nephew, February 27, 1823:--


     "I am grown much thinner than I was six months ago: when I look
     at my hands, they put me so in mind of what your dear father's
     were, when I saw them tremble under my eyes, as we latterly
     played at backgammon together."

It has long been the reproach of England that she treats, or rather that
her Government treats, her men of science, her artists, and her
litterateurs with a disgraceful parsimony. It would appear from the
following letter that Sir William Herschel was inadequately rewarded,
and that his sister felt this keenly:--


     "There can be no harm," she says, "in telling my own dear
     nephew that I never felt satisfied with the support your father
     received towards his undertakings, and far less with the
     ungracious manner in which it was granted. For the last sum
     came with a message that more must never be asked for. (Oh! how
     degraded I felt, even for myself, whenever I thought of it!)
     And after all it came too late, and was not sufficient; for if
     expenses had been out of question, there would not have been so
     much time, and labour, and expense, for twenty-four men were at
     times by turns, day and night, at work, wasted on the first
     mirror, which had come out too light in the casting (Alex more
     than once would have destroyed it secretly, if I had not
     persuaded him against it); and without two mirrors, you know,
     such an instrument cannot be always ready for observing.

     "But what grieved me most was that to the last your poor father
     was struggling above his strength against difficulties which he
     well knew might have been removed if it had not been attended
     with too much expense. The last time the mirror was obliged to
     be taken from the polisher on account of some obstacle, I heard
     him say (in his usual manner of thinking aloud on such
     occasions), 'It is impossible to make the machine act as
     required without a room three times as large as this.'

     "I must say a few words of apology for the good King (George
     III.), and ascribe the close bargains which were made between
     him and my brother to the _shabby, mean-spirited advisers_ who
     were undoubtedly consulted on such occasions; but they are dead
     and gone, and no more of them."

In February 1828, the great services which this high-souled woman had
rendered to astronomical science were fitly rewarded by the presentation
to her of the Royal Astronomical Society's gold medal,--the greatest
honour which an astronomer can receive.

Mr. South, himself an astronomer of deserved repute, was charged with
the duty of presenting the medal; and in the course of his address he
dwelt on the labours of her brother, and the share she had had in them.

Sir William's first catalogue of new nebulae and clusters of stars, he
said, amounting in number to one thousand, was compiled with
observations made from a twenty-foot reflector in the years 1783, 1784,
and 1785. By the same instrument he was enabled to discover the
positions of a second thousand of these distant worlds in 1785 to 1788;
while the places of five hundred others were registered on the celestial
map between 1788 and 1802. What, we may ask, were the discoveries of
Columbus compared with these? He revealed to Europe the existence of
only a single continent; Herschel unfolded to man the mysteries of the
depths of the heavens.

But, continued Mr. South, when we have thus enumerated the results
obtained in the course of "sweeps" with this instrument, and taken into
consideration the extent and variety of the other observations which
were at the same time in progress, a most important part yet remains
untold. Who participated in his toils? Who braved with him all the
experiences of inclement weather? Who shared, and consoled him in, his
privations? A woman. And who was she? His sister. Miss Herschel it was
who by night acted as his amanuensis; she it was whose pen conveyed to
paper his observations as they issued from his lips; she it was who
noted the various aspects and phenomena of the objects observed; she it
was who, after spending the still night beside the wonder-exhibiting
instrument, carried the rough, blurred manuscripts to her cottage at
daybreak, and by the morning produced a clean copy and register of the
night's achievements; she it was who planned the labour of each
succeeding night; she it was who reduced into exact form every
calculation; she it was who arranged the whole in systematic order; and
she it was who largely assisted her illustrious brother to obtain his
imperishable renown.

Miss Herschel's claims to the gratitude of men of science, and to the
admiration of all who can appreciate the beauty of self-sacrifice, did
not end here. She was herself an astronomer, and an original observer.
At times her brother was enabled to dispense with her attendance. You
would suppose that such leisure nights she would gladly give up to rest.
Not she. Her brother might, at some unforeseen moment, require her aid,
and consequently she preferred to be close at hand. A seven-foot
telescope planted on the lawn helped to while away the hours of waiting;
and it was to the occupation of these hours that science owed the
discovery of the comet of 1786, of the comet of 1788, of the comet of
1791, of the comet of 1793, and of that of 1795, now connected with the
name of Encke. Many, also, of the nebulae contained in Sir William
Herschel's catalogues were detected by her keen and accurate gaze during
these nights of lonely observation. Indeed, as South remarked, when
looking at the joint-labours of these two enthusiasts, we scarcely know
whether the warmer praise should be given to the intellectual might of
the brother or the ardent industry of the sister.

In 1797, continued her eulogist, she presented to the Royal Society a
catalogue of 560 stars, taken from Flamsteed's observations, the exact
positions of which had not been previously defined.

Soon after the death of him to whom she had given up so much of her
life, her best energies, and her ripest faculties, she returned to
Hanover,--unwilling, however, to relinquish the astronomical researches
which had been so pure and permanent a source of pleasure. She undertook
and completed the laborious "reduction" or registration of the places of
2500 nebulae, down to the 1st of January 1800; thus presenting in one
view the results of all the observations Sir William Herschel had made
upon those wonderful bodies, and triumphantly bringing to a close half a
century of scientific toil.

       *       *       *       *       *

We return to Miss Herschel's biography, in order to gather up a few
particulars of her last years, and to exhibit some of the tenderer
features of her character.

On the occasion of her nephew's marriage, in 1829, she wrote to him in
the following terms:--


     "MY DEAREST NEPHEW,--I have spent four days in vain endeavours
     to gain composure enough to give you an idea of the joyful
     sensation your letter of February 5th has caused me. But I can
     at this present moment find no words which would better express
     my happiness than those which escaped in exclamation from my
     lips, according to Simeon (see St. Luke ii. 29), 'Lord, now
     lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'

     "I have now some hopes of passing the few remainder of my days
     in as much comfort as the separation from the land where I
     spent the greatest portion of my life, and from all those which
     are most dear to me, can admit. For, from the description given
     me of the dear young lady of your choice, I am confident my
     dear nephew's future happiness is now established.

     "I beg you will give my love to your dear lady, and best
     regards to all your new connections where they are due, in the
     best terms you can think of, for I am at present too unwell for
     writing all I could wish to say.

     "I have suffered much during this severe winter, and have not
     been able to leave my habitation above three or four times for
     the last three months; and feel, moreover, much fatigued by
     sitting eight times within the last ten days to Professor
     Tiedemann for having my picture taken--which he did at my
     apartment, and now he has taken it home to finish. I must
     conclude, for I wish to say a few words to your dear mother. It
     is now between eleven and twelve, and perhaps you are at this
     very moment receiving the blessing of Dr. Jennings; in which I
     most fervently join by saying, 'God bless you both!'"

Though eighty-three years old, Miss Herschel retained all her old powers
of memory; and in a letter to her new niece, Lady Herschel, written in
1833, she narrated some amusing reminiscences of her nephew's early
childhood.

He was only in his sixth year, she said, when she was separated for a
while from the family circle. But this did not hinder "John" and her
from remaining the most affectionate friends, and many a half or whole
holiday he spent with her, devoting it to chemical experiments, in which
all kinds of boxes, tops of tea-canisters, pepper-cruets, tea-cups, and
the like, served for the necessary vessels, and the sand-tub furnished
the matter to be analysed. Miss Herschel's task was to prevent the
introduction of water, which would have produced havoc on her carpet.
For his first notion of building, "John" was indebted to the affection
of his aunt, who, on his second or third birthday, lifted him in the
trenches to lay the south corner-stone of the building which was added
to Sir William's original house at Slough. On further reflection, she
felt convinced that this incident occurred in the second year of her
nephew's age, for she remembered being obliged to use "a deal of
coaxing" to make him part with the money he was to lay on the
comer-stone.

About the same time, when she was sitting near him one day, listening to
his prattle, her attention was drawn to his repeated and formidable
hammering. On investigating into its object, she found that it was the
continuation of the labour of many days, during which he had undermined
the ground about the corner of the house, had entirely removed the
corner-stone, and was zealously toiling to overthrow the next! His aunt
gave the alarm, and old John Wiltshire, a favourite carpenter, ran to
the spot, exclaiming, "Heaven bless the boy! if he is not going to pull
the house down!"

       *       *       *       *       *

In 1834, Sir John, as already stated, made a voyage to the Cape of Good
Hope, in order to undertake a series of observations of the southern
heavens. His aunt had now reached the ripe old age of eighty-four, an
age attained by few,--and when attained, bringing with it in almost
every case a painful diminution of physical energy, and a corresponding
decline in mental force. But such was not the case with this remarkable
woman. She still continued an active correspondence with her nephew, and
manifested the liveliest interest in all his movements. It is
astonishing to mark the vivacity and clearness of the letters she wrote
at this advanced period of her life. Thus, on the 1st of May 1834, she
writes to Sir John:--


     "Both yourself and my dear niece urged me to write often, and
     to write always twice; but, alas! I could not overcome the
     reluctance I felt of [at] telling you that it is over with me
     for getting up at eight or nine o'clock, dressing myself,
     eating my dinner alone without an appetite, falling asleep over
     a novel (I am obliged to lay down to recover the fatigue of the
     morning's exertions), awaking with nothing but the prospect of
     the trouble of getting into bed, where very seldom I get above
     two hours' sleep. It is enough to make a parson swear! To this
     I must add, I found full employment for the few moments, when I
     could rouse myself from a melancholy lethargy, to spend in
     looking over my store of astronomical and other memorandums of
     upwards of fifty years' collecting."

Later in the year she writes:--


     "I know not how to thank you sufficiently for the cheering
     account you give of the climate agreeing so well with you and
     all who are so dear to me, and that you find all about you so
     agreeable and comfortable;... so that I have nothing left to
     wish for but a continuation of the same, and that I may only
     live to see the handwriting of your dear Caroline, though I
     have my doubts about lasting till then, for the thermometer
     standing 80° and 90° for upwards of two mouths, day and night,
     in nay rooms (to which I am mostly confined), has made great
     havoc in my brittle constitution. I beg you will look to it
     that she learns to make her figures as you find them in your
     father's MSS., such as he taught me to make. The daughter of a
     mathematician must write plain figures.

     "My little grand-nephew making alliance with your workmen shows
     that he is taking after his papa. I see you now in idea,
     running about in petticoats among your father's carpenters,
     working with little tools of your own; and John Wiltshire (one
     of Pitt's men, whom you may perhaps remember) crying out, 'Dang
     the boy, if he can't drive in a nail as well as I can!'

     "I thank you for the astronomical portion of your letter, and
     for your promise of future accounts of uncommon objects. It is
     not _clusters of stars_ I want you to discover in the body of
     the Scorpion [the astronomical sign, so called], or thereabout,
     for that does not answer my expectation, remembering having
     once heard your father, after a long, awful silence, exclaim,
     'Hier ist wahrhaftig ein loch ein Himmel!' [Here, indeed, is a
     great gap in Heaven!], and, as I said before, stopping
     afterwards at the same spot, but leaving it unsatisfied."

These extracts may seem trivial to some of our readers, but they are not
so, rightly considered. They illustrate the wonderful mental vivacity of
their venerable writer, and in this respect are useful; but still more
useful in showing how cheerfully she bore the burden of her years, and
with what intellectual serenity she looked forward to her end.

We own that the lives of the Herschels are what the world would call
uneventful. The discovery of a new planet, or of the orbit of a star,
seems less romantic to the vulgar taste than the slaughter of ten
thousand men on a field of battle. It will seem to the unthinking that
the victorious general or the daring seaman, the leader of a forlorn
hope, or the captain who goes down with his sinking ship, affords an
example worthier of imitation than the patient, watchful, enthusiastic
astronomer or his devoted sister. _His_, they will say, was a noble
life. Be it so; but every life is noble which is spent in the path of
duty. Do what comes to your hand to do with all honesty and
completeness, and you will make _your_ life noble. Subdue your passions,
master your evil thoughts, observe the laws of temperance and purity, be
truthful, be firm, be honest, and keep ever before you the law of Christ
as the law of your daily work, and you will make _your_ life noble. We
cannot all be great commanders or daring captains, we cannot all be
distinguished men of science; but we can all be righteously-living men,
endeavouring to raise others by our example, and it is a higher aim to
live purely than to live successfully. We cannot all command the
success, just as we do not all enjoy the intellectual powers, of a
Herschel; but we can emulate the industry and perseverance of the
astronomer, we can copy the devoted affection and self-denial of his
sister. The sorriest mistake of which men can be guilty,--yet it is a
mistake which has clouded many lives,--is to suppose that duty is less
imperative in its claims on the humble and unknown than on men raised or
born to eminent position. Let it be understood and remembered that each
one of us can rise to a standard of true heroism, by cultivating the
graces of the Christian character, and doing the work which God has
appointed.

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir John Herschel returned to England in 1838, and in July of the same
year he and his little son paid a visit to Miss Herschel. It is
characteristic that her intense anxiety as to the proper treatment of
her little grand-nephew--his sleep, his food, his playthings--greatly
disturbed her peace. "I rather suffered him," she writes, "to hunger,
than would let him eat anything hurtful; indeed, I would not let him eat
anything at all unless his papa was present." Her biographer remarks,
that great as was her joy to see once more almost the only living being
upon whom she poured some of that wealth of affection with which her
heart never ceased to overflow, yet it was on the disappointments and
shortcomings of those few days, those precious days, that she chiefly
dwelt; and the abrupt termination of her nephew's visit filled her with
the deepest sorrow. With the generous, but, as it proved, mistaken
intention of sparing her feelings, her nephew left without informing her
beforehand of the exact time of his departure, simply bidding her
good-night prior to his return to his inn. Great was her distress when
she found that he and his son had quitted Hanover at four o'clock on the
following morning.

Her introduction to her grand-nephew, as described by his father, Sir
John, was exceedingly quaint:--

     "Now, let me tell you how tilings fell out. Dr. Groskopff took
     Willie with him to Aunty, but without saying who he was. Says
     she, 'What little boy is that?' Says he, 'The son of a friend
     of mine. Ask him his name.' However, Willie would not tell his
     name. 'Where do you come from, little fellow?' 'From the Cape
     of Good Hope,' says Willie. 'What is that he says?' 'He says he
     comes from the Cape of Good Hope.' 'Ay! and who is he? What is
     his name?' 'His name is Herschel.' 'Yes,'says Willie. 'What is
     that he says?' 'He says he comes from the Cape of Good Hope.'
     'Ay! and who is he? What is his name?' 'His name is Herschel.'
     'Yes,' says Willie, 'William James Herschel.' 'Ach, mem Gott!
     das nicht möglich; ist dieser kleines neffeu's sohn?' And so it
     all came out; and when I came to her all was understood, and we
     sat down and talked as quietly as if we had parted but
     yesterday."

       *       *       *       *       *

In a letter which she wrote to Lady Herschel in 1838, we find some
reminiscences of her early years. She says that when, at the age of
twenty-two, she first visited England, there was no kind of ornamental
needle-work, knitting, plaiting hair, stringing beads and bugles, and
the like, of which she did not make samples by way of mastering the art.
As she was the only girl, and consequently the Cinderella, of the
family, she could not find time, however, for much self-improvement. She
was not, for instance, a skilled musician, but she was able to play the
second violin part of an overture or easy quartette. And it is worth
notice that the Herschels were something more than astronomers only.
Both Sir William and his son, great as they were in their special
department of science, took care to cultivate their minds generally;
were mathematicians, chemists, geologists, and men of letters. And here
is a lesson for our younger readers. The mind should always be diverted
towards one particular object; it should be the aim of everybody to
attain towards supreme excellence, if possible, in some one pursuit. On
the other hand, he should gather knowledge, more or less, in every
field, so as to avoid narrowness of view and poverty of idea.
Versatility does not necessarily mean superficiality; we may know much
of many things, and more of one thing. A man who is only a botanist,
shuts himself out from all the truest and deepest pleasures of
knowledge. It may be very clever for a violinist to play on a single
string; but he must play on _all_, if he would bring out the full
harmonies of his instrument, and do justice to its extraordinary powers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss Herschel's enjoyment of life, which, when not carried to an excess,
is a Christian duty, continued to the very last. When she was in her
ninetieth year, she rose as usual every day, dressed, ate, drank, rested
on her sofa, read and conversed with her numerous visitors; still
taking an interest in science and literature, even in public affairs,
and still occupying herself with all that concerned the evergrowing
reputation of her nephew. Of course, she could not escape the
infirmities of old age, but by cheerfulness and patience she did her
best to alleviate them. In recalling incidents of her early life, she
frequently gave evidence of her good-humoured contentment. In 1840,
writing to her niece, she refers to an incident which occurred in the
early part of the forty-foot telescope's existence, when "God save the
King" was sung in it by her brother and his guests, who rose from the
dinner-table for the purpose, and entered the tube in procession. She
adds that among the company were two Misses Stows, one of whom was a
famous pianoforte player; some of the Griesbachs (well-known musicians),
who accompanied on the oboe, or any instrument they could get hold of;
and herself, who was one of the nimblest and foremost to get in and out
of the tube. "But now," she adds, "lack-a-day! I can hardly cross the
room without help. But what of that? Dorcas, in the _Beggar's Opera_,
says, 'One cannot eat one's cake and have it too!'"

She relates, in the same letter, a curious anecdote of the old and
celebrated tube. Before the optical apparatus was finished, many
visitors took a pleasure in walking through it,--among the rest, on one
occasion, King George III. and the Archbishop of Canterbury. The latter
following the king, and finding it difficult to proceed, his majesty
turned and gave him his hand, saying, "Come, my Lord Bishop; I will show
you the way to heaven!"

Then, with that astonishing memory of hers, which kept its greenness
until the very last, she notes that this occurred on August 17, 1787,
when the King and Queen, the Duke of York, and some of the princesses
were of the company.

       *       *       *       *       *

From another letter we take a lively little picture of a Christmas in
Hanover:--

She had been told that keeping Christmas in the German sense was coming
to be very general in England; but her shrewd, practical turn of mind
induced her to hope that the English would never go "such lengths in
foolery." At Hanover, she wrote, the tradespeople had been for many
weeks in full employ, framing and mounting the embroideries of the
ladies and girls of all classes; of _all_ classes, for not a folly or
extravagancy existed among the great but it was imitated by the little.
The shops were beautifully lighted up by gas, and the last three days
before Christmas all that could tempt or attract was exhibited in the
market-places in booths lighted up in the evening, whither everybody
hastened to gaze and to spend their money. Cooks and housemaids
presented one another with knitted bags and purses; the cobbler's
daughter embroidered "neck-cushions" for her friend the butcher's
daughter. These were made up by the upholsterer at great expense, lined
with white satin; the upper part, on which the back rested, being
wrought with gold, silver, and pearls.

       *       *       *       *       *

But we must no longer delay the reader by our gossip. Enough has been
said to illustrate the character of a remarkable woman, and of those
features of it--her cheerfulness, her patience, her industry, her
devoted affection, her unselfishness--which all of us may be the better
for studying and imitating. Our limits compel us to draw our simple
narrative to a close, and we must pass over the delight with which she
received and read Sir John Herschel's great work, "Cape
Observations,"--a noble monument of the perseverance and strenuous
labour of genius; but of twofold interest to her, because it not only
testified to the eminent qualities of her nephew, but brought to a noble
conclusion the vast undertaking of that nephew's father and her own
beloved brother--the survey of the nebulous heavens.

A letter written by her friend Miss Becksdorff, on the 6th of January
1848, describes Caroline Herschel's last days:--


     "Her decided objection to having her bed placed in a warmer
     room had brought on a cold and cough; and so firm was her
     determination to preserve her old customs, and not to yield to
     increasing infirmities, that when, upon her doctor's positive
     orders, I had a bed made up in her room, before she came to sit
     in it one day, it was not till two o'clock in the night that
     Betty could persuade her to lie down in it. Upon going to her
     the next morning, I had the satisfaction, however, of finding
     her perfectly reconciled to the arrangement; she now felt the
     comfort of being undisturbed, and she has kept to her bed ever
     since. Her mental and bodily strength is gradually declining.
     But a few days ago she was ready for a joke. When Mrs. Clarke
     told her that General Halkett sent his love, and 'hoped she
     would soon be so well again that he might come and give her a
     kiss, as he had done on her birthday,' she looked only archly
     at her, and said, 'Tell the general that I have not tasted
     anything since I liked so well.' I have just left her, and upon
     my asking her to give me a message for her nephew, she said,
     'Tell them I am good for nothing,' and went to sleep again."

On the 9th of January 1848 she breathed her last, passing away with a
Christian's tranquillity.[1]

[Footnote 1: The particulars recorded in the foregoing pages are chiefly
taken from Mrs. John Herschel's very interesting "Memoir and
Correspondence of Caroline Herschel."]

       *       *       *       *       *

Her body was followed to the grave by many of her relatives and friends,
the royal carriages forming part of the funeral procession. The coffin
was adorned with garlands of laurel and cypress and palm branches, sent
by the Crown-Princess from Herrnhausen; and the service was conducted in
that same garrison-church in which, nearly a century before, she had
been christened, and afterwards confirmed. And, as proving her love and
fidelity to the last, in her coffin were placed, by her express desire,
"a lock of her beloved brother's hair, and an old, almost obliterated
almanac that had been used by her father."

       *       *       *       *       *

May our readers be induced, by their perusal of these pages, to emulate
the Herschels--brother, sister, nephew--in all the bright and lovely
qualities that ennoble life; in their fixity of purpose, their elevation
of thought, their purity of character, their self-denial, their
industry, their hopefulness, and their faith!

     [The following inscription is engraved on Miss Herschel's tomb.
     It begins: "Hier ruhet die irdische Hülle von CAROLINA
     HERSCHEL, Geboren zu Hannover den 16ten Marz 1750, Gestorben,
     den 9ten Januar 1848." But, for the convenience of our young
     readers, we give it in English:--

         HERE RESTS THE EARTHLY CASE OF
             C A R O L I N E   H E R S C H E L.
         BORN AT HANOVER, MARCH 10, 1750.
             DIED JANUARY 9, 1848.

     "The eyes of her now glorified were, while here below, directed
     towards the starry heavens. Her own discoveries of comets, and
     her share in the immortal labours of her brother, William
     Herschel, bear witness of this to succeeding ages.

     "The Royal Irish Academy of Dublin, and the Royal Astronomical
     Society of London, enrolled her name among their members.

     "At the age of 97 years 10 months, she fell asleep in calm
     rest, and in the full possession of her faculties; following
     into a better life her father, Isaac Herschel, who lived to the
     age of 60 years, 2 months, 17 days, and has lain buried not far
     off since the 29th of March 1767."

     This epitaph was mainly written by Miss Herschel herself, and
     the allusion to her brother is characteristic.]





