"Complete System of Optics," and Lalande's Astronomy.
What if he had devoted this time to ease or amusement! Would he have become learned or distinguished? Every young man and woman is obliged to decide the matter for himself and herself. We cannot idle away life and be great.
In 1767, the fond father, Isaac, died of paralysis. Caroline, who loved him tenderly, was desolate. He had taught her the violin when the prosaic mother "was either in good humor, or out of the way." It is quite possible that music, like inventions, did not bring an adequate support for ten children, and that the practical mother wished her daughter to learn something whereby she could earn a living. She thereupon sent her two or three months to a seamstress to be taught to make household linen. After a time a delightful proposition came from the organist at Bath. He would take her to England, and see if she "could not become a useful singer for his winter concerts and oratorios." If she did not succeed, after two years, he would carry her back to Germany.
In 1772, William came to Hanover and took his sister to Bath, at 7 New Kings Street. She was now twenty-two; an untutored girl, with a bright, eager mind, and a heart that went out to her brother in the most rapt devotion. History does not show a more complete, single-hearted, subservient affection, nor a sadder picture of a woman's sorrow in later years, in consequence of it.
At once Caroline began her work of voice culture, lessons in arithmetic, English, and in keeping accounts, from her brother, and in managing the house. Alexander, now in England, boarded with William, and he and Caroline occupied the attic. The first three winter months were lonely, as she saw little of William.
"The time," she says, "when I could hope to receive a little more of my brother's instruction and attention was now drawing near; for after Easter, Bath becomes very empty, only a few of his scholars, whose families were residents in the neighborhood, remaining. But I was greatly disappointed, for, in consequence of the harassing and fatiguing life he had led during the winter months, he used to retire to bed with a basin of milk or glass of water, and Smith's Harmonics and Optics, Ferguson's Astronomy, etc., and so went to sleep buried under his favorite authors; and his first thoughts on rising were how to obtain the instruments for viewing those objects himself of which he had been reading.
"There being in one of the shops a two-and-a-half-foot Gregorian telescope to be let, it was for some time taken in requisition, and served not only for viewing the heavens, but for making experiments on its construction… It soon appeared that my brother was not contented with knowing what former observers had seen, for he began to contrive a telescope eighteen or twenty feet long… I was much hindered in my musical practice by my help being continually wanted in the execution of the various contrivances, and I had to amuse myself with 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."
Herschel had attempted to buy a telescope, but found the price far beyond his means. But he was not discouraged. Caroline soon saw "almost every room turned into a work-shop. A cabinet-maker making a tube and stands of all descriptions in a handsomely furnished drawing-room;" this could be so occupied when the music scholars had left Bath in their vacation; "Alex putting up a huge turning machine in a bedroom, for turning patterns, grinding glasses, and turning eye-pieces, etc."
The longed-for time to see more of her brother never came to Caroline, except as she finally grew into his life-work, and became his second self.
He had one unalterable purpose, the study of the construction of the heavens. Nothing ever drew him from it. Nothing ever could draw him. And herein lay one of the elements of his great power. As an English writer has well said: "So gentle and patient a follower of science under difficulties scarcely occurs in the whole circle of biography." Yes, he was "gentle and patient," but with an untiring and never ending perseverance. Too poor to buy telescopes, he made them. With no time to read books during the day, he took the hours from sleep. With little opportunity for education, he educated himself.
In 1774, the music teacher made for himself a five-and-one-half-foot Gregorian telescope; and a year later, a Newtonian, with a four-and-a-half-inch aperture, which magnified two hundred and twenty-two times. The making of these instruments showed great mechanical skill and accurate knowledge. He began now to study the heavens in earnest, but the teaching must go on to provide daily bread. He directed an orchestra of nearly one hundred pieces, and Caroline copied the scores and vocal parts. So absorbed was he in his astronomical work, however, that at the theatre, between the acts, he would run from the harpsichord to look at the stars. This boyish eagerness and naturalness he kept through life.
He soon made a seven-foot reflector, then a ten-foot reflector. The mirrors for these telescopes were all made by hand, machines for the purpose not being invented till ten or more years later. Alexander, with his mechanical skill, assisted, and Caroline was always busy at the work. She says, "My time was taken up with copying music and practising, besides attendance on my brother when polishing; since, by way of keeping him alive, I was constantly obliged to feed him, by putting his victuals by bits into his mouth. This was once the case, when, in order to finish a seven-foot mirror, he had not taken his hands from it for sixteen hours together. In general he was never unemployed at meals, but was always at those times contriving or making drawings of whatever came in his mind. Generally I was obliged to read to him while he was at the turning-lathe, or polishing mirrors, 'Don Quixote,' 'Arabian Nights' Entertainment,' the novels of Sterne, Fielding, etc.; serving tea and supper without interrupting the work with which he was engaged."…
So busy that he could not find time to eat or sleep! Rare devotion of a rare mind! He now began to study every star of the first, second, third, and fourth magnitudes in the sky. He carefully observed the moon, and measured the height of about one hundred of her mountains. Her extinct volcanoes, and her unpeopled solitudes, without clouds or air, were an impressive study.
He was now forty years old, – not young to begin the study of a new and illimitable science, but not too old, for one is never too old to begin a great or a noble work.
Through Dr. William Watson, Fellow of the Royal Society, who happened – if anything ever happens in this world – to see Herschel at his telescope, he became a member of the Philosophical Society of Bath, and soon in 1780 sent two papers to the Royal Society, the one on the periodical star in Collo Ceti, and the other on the mountains of the moon, which were read by Dr. William Watson, Jr.
When he was forty-three, he says, "I began to construct a thirty-foot aërial reflector, and, having made a stand for it, I cast the mirror thirty-six inches in diameter. This was cracked in cooling. I cast it a second time, and the furnace I had built in my house broke." But he persevered. This same year, 1781, after he had lived in Bath nine years, on the night of Tuesday, March 13, having removed to a larger house, 19 New King Street, he says, "In examining the small stars in the neighborhood of H. Geminorum I perceived one that appeared visibly larger than the rest; being struck with its uncommon appearance, I compared it to H. Geminorum and the small star in the quarter between Auriga and Gemini, and, finding it so much larger than either of them, I suspected it to be a comet."
The orbit of this "comet" was computed and its distance from the sun found to be eighteen hundred million miles! The world soon awoke to the fact that a new planet had been found, the greatest astronomical discovery since Galileo invented the telescope, and the unknown musician at Bath had become famous! So little was Herschel known at this time, that one journal called him Mersthel, another Herthel, and still another Hermstel.
In December of the same year, 1781, Herschel was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society and received the Copley gold medal. He was no longer the poor German youth playing the oboe among the guards; he was the renowned discoverer. He called the planet Georgium Sidus, in honor of his
