Part 1 (1/2)

The Story of the Herschels.

by Anonymous.

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.

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 s.p.a.ce. He cannot but feel a sense of pleasure, and even of power, when the telescope reveals to his gaze not only the worlds that const.i.tute 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 flas.h.i.+ng 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 cl.u.s.ters,--to look upon them in their perfect order and government,--to consider their infinite number and astonis.h.i.+ng dimensions,--without acknowledging the fulness of the power of an everlasting G.o.d, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 G.o.d. 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 mult.i.tudinous uses, which we acknowledge with grat.i.tude, 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 G.o.d 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 wors.h.i.+p and of praise. To think that we know everything about G.o.d, is to benumb and deaden wors.h.i.+p; but mystical thought quickens wors.h.i.+p, 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 wors.h.i.+p is raised. 'Surely thou art a G.o.d that hidest thyself.' But if G.o.d 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 antic.i.p.ates 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-sh.o.r.e, picking up a sh.e.l.l here and a sh.e.l.l 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 G.o.d, 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 Brahe, 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 pa.s.sionately 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 a.s.sistants 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 a.s.sistant 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 a.s.sent 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 a.s.sist 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.