Part 2 (1/2)
”_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 a.s.surance 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 pa.s.s 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 ill.u.s.trious astronomer's descendants:--
”LINA,--There is a great comet. I want you to a.s.sist 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 n.o.ble, 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 amus.e.m.e.nt. But, instead, she found a.s.sembled 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 circ.u.mstance; 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 a.s.sure him that they were, and the key in Lady Herschel's hands.