My dear Aunt,—

Here we are safely landed and comfortably housed at the far end of Africa, and having secured the landing and final stowage 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. 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 Rabe’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.

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; and wishing we had you here to see them, must conclude with best loves from M. and the children.

My dear Nephew,—

Your precious letter relieved me on the 14th from a whole twelvemonth’s anxiety, for it was in April last year when, by your few brief lines on business, I saw that you were seriously preparing for leaving Europe, and from that time I became in idea a vagrant accompanying you through all the fatigues of preparing for such a momentous undertaking. And if it had not been for the consoling letter of your brother [in law] James, and one from Miss B. giving me an account of the carefully arranged accommodation with which they saw you depart, I should not have known how to support myself till I saw your dear letter, which brought me even more comfort than I could hope you would have found time to think of....

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 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 to 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, and destroying all what might produce nonsense when coming through the hands of a Block-kopff in the Zeitungen.

My dear friends, Mrs. and Miss Beckedorff, are assisting me in my final preparations for going to that bourn from whence none ever returned, but let me hope that you, my dear nephew, with my dear niece and the whole of your young family, will return to your dear relatives and friends after having seen all your wishes and expectations crowned with success. Though, if I may not be among those who will greet your return, I can assure you their number will be great, judging from the sensation the account of your safe arrival at the Cape has caused among all our friends; and (as Dr. M—— will have it) “the whole intelligent and scientific world in general are participating in our feeling.” Poor Mrs. Beckedorff, to whom I read your letter, sat trembling and crying for joy; for I now find that my friends had not been without fear for your safety on account of the storms (and their sad consequences) which prevailed for a long time immediately after your departure, and the same evening a note was despatched to her Royal Highness the Landgräfin to communicate the news; for from the Duke’s and her Royal Highness’s constant inquiries when I expected to hear from you, I knew the account of your safe arrival would give pleasure.

The feelings of joy I experienced the first few days after the arrival of your letter are nearly evaporated, and I begin to feel already that the essential information required for making me reconciled to the immense space which divides me from you is still wanting; which is, that I cannot now, as formerly, receive so frequent accounts concerning the health of my dear niece and the children, not even from Miss B., who used to describe their little ways so prettily, for she, too, cannot now observe them. I look with impatience for the next account ... of the health of my dear niece, yours, and the dear little beings. Caroline and Isabella and I are old friends, but is William Herschel the second likely to live (if not beyond) at least to the age of his grandfather?

Perhaps you will receive the “Göttingsche Gelehrte Anzeigen” of 16th and 19th December, 1833, containing what is said of your book on Natural Philosophy (by Gauss they say).

My dear Aunt,—

The twenty-foot has been in activity ever since the end of February, and, as I have now got the polishing apparatus erected and three mirrors (one of which I mean to keep constantly polishing) the sweeping gets on rapidly. I had hardly begun regular sweeping, when I discovered two beautiful planetary nebulæ, exactly like planets, and one of a fine blue colour. I have not been unmindful of your hint about Scorpio, I am now rummaging the recesses of that constellation and find it full of beautiful globular clusters. A few evenings ago I lighted on a strange nebula, of which here is a figure! and since I am about it I shall add a figure of one of the resolvable nebulæ in the greater magellanic cloud. The equatorial is at last erected, and the revolving roof (upon a plan of my own) works perfectly well, but I am sorry to say that the nights in which it can be used to advantage are rare, even rarer than in England, as, in spite of the clearness of the sky, the stars are ill-defined and excessively tremulous. But a truce to astronomical details! though from time to time I shall continue to plague you with them.... Farewell; M. desires to add her kindest regards to those of

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 (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 im Himmel!”^[47] and, as I said before, stopping afterwards at the same spot, but leaving it unsatisfied, &c....

About two months ago I was, for the last time, unfortunately, at the theatre, when Professor Schumacher and the Chevalier Kessel, of Danneburg, called on me. As soon as I came home I sent a note of invitation for the next evening, but had one returned informing me of their leaving Hanover next morning, and a promise of coming perhaps next summer. But I hear Struve is coming, and I hope I shall get a sight of him. The Emperor of Russia and the King of Denmark are cramming their observatories with astronomical instruments, &c., of all descriptions, made, I believe, some of them by Hohenbaum....

To my dear niece I beg you to give my best love and thanks for the kind arrangement to indemnify me for the loss of her dear letters, by charging her brothers to inform me of all they know, &c., which, thank God, is hitherto of the most comforting nature.

With the most heartfelt wishes for the continuance of the health of you all,

For my own part I never enjoyed such good health in England as I have done since I came here. The first coming on of the hot season affected me a little (odd enough with colds and rheumatisms), but it soon went off.

The stars continue to be propitious, and the nights which follow a shower, or a “black south-easter,” are the most observing nights it is possible to imagine. I have swept well over Scorpio, and have many entries in my sweeping books of the kind you describe, viz., blank space in the heavens without the smallest star. For example:—

and so on. Then come on the globular clusters, then more blank fields, then suddenly the Milky Way comes on as here described (from my sweep 474, July 29, 1834):—

“17^h 28^m, 114° 27ʹ.—The Milky Way comes on in large milky nebulous irregular patches and banks, with few stars of visible magnitude, after a succession of black fields and extremely rare stars above 18th magnitude. I do not remember ever to have seen the Milky Way so decidedly nebulous, or, indeed, at all so, before.”

Altogether the constitution of the Milky Way in its whole extent, from Scorpio to Argo Navis, is extremely curious and interesting. I have already collected a pretty large catalogue of southern nebulæ, for the most part hitherto unobserved, but my most remarkable object is a fine planetary nebula of a beautiful greenish-blue colour, a full and intense tint (not as when one says Lyra is a bluish star, &c.), but a positive and evident blue, between indigo-blue and verditer green. It is about 12ʺ in diameter, exactly round, or a very little elliptic, and quite as sharply defined as a planet. Its place is 11^h 42^m R.A., and 146° 14ʹ N.P.D. My review for double stars goes on in moonlight nights, and among them I may mention γ Lupi and ε Chameleontis as among the closest and most interesting.

I have been hunting for Halley’s comet by Rümker’s Ephemeris in Taurus, but without success, though in the finest sky, quite dark, and with a newly-polished mirror. (By the way, I should mention that I have not had the least difficulty in my polishing work, and my mirrors are now more perfect than at any former time since I have used them.) My last comet hunt was Feb. 18. I shall, however, continue to look out for it. Pray mention this to Schumacher, who is Rümker’s next-door neighbour.

Sir,—

I return you many thanks for your communication of being chosen an Honorary Member of the Royal Astronomical Society, and beg you will do me the favour to convey my most heartfelt thanks to the honourable gentlemen of the Council for conferring so great an honour on me; and only regret that at the feeble age of 85 I have no hope of making myself deserving of the great honour of seeing my name joined with that of the much distinguished Mrs. Somerville.

I beg you will believe me to remain, with great regard,

Dear Sir,—

I feel very great gratification at recollecting that some twenty years ago I had the pleasure of being present when you were conversing at Slough with my dear brother, for it encourages me to address you now as an old friend, and I might almost say my only one, for death has not spared me one of those valuable men of the last century in whose society I had an opportunity of spending many happy hours, when they came to pass an astronomical night at Bath, Datchet, Clay Hall, and Slough. And I should now in the absence of my nephew (who would in my name have properly answered your kind letter for me) been much at a loss how to reply to yours of March 17. But I hope, dear Sir, you will have the goodness to return my sincere thanks to the Council of the Society for voting me a complete copy of their Memoirs. But, considering my advanced age and declining health, I think it best not to have them sent over to me, for it would cause me much uneasiness to leave them in the hands of those who could neither read nor understand them.

I suppose my nephew must have himself a complete copy of the Memoirs; but, if not, I beg you will give them to him, along with my love, as a keepsake from his affectionate and grateful aunt, the first opportunity you have to see him on his return.

Your kind information of the work with which you are at present engaged, touches a string which it has caused me no small trouble to silence; for whenever my thoughts return to those two or three years of which every moment that could be spared from other immediate astronomical business was, by my brother’s desire, allotted for comparing each star of the British Catalogue with their observations in that incorrect edition of 1725, I feel always sorry that want of time, and, perhaps, want of ability too, must have been the cause of leaving many incorrections unnoticed. The work, however, was solely intended for the use of my brother, who valued Flamsteed as an observer too much to have made use of any other but the British Catalogue for determining the places of his newly-discovered objects. N.B. We ought to remember that till the year 1790 and 1800, when Wollaston’s and Bode’s Catalogues appeared, we had no other to go by, for those of Piazzi and several other excellent observers were then not generally known.

But, dear Sir, I ought to take leave of this to me interesting subject; for finding, about eight years since, that, on account of the failure of my eyes and wretched health in general, I should be unable to make further use of Flamsteed’s works, I gave the three volumes, along with the Atlas, Catalogue of Omitted Stars, &c., to the Observatory of Göttingen, all marked throughout with what corrections I knew of at that time; thinking they might be of use to the observer there, and relieve me besides from the fear of leaving them where they could not be appreciated, or an attempt be made to comment on them, and perhaps have made bad worse.

I wish (but almost fear life will not be spared me so long) to see your new edition of the British Catalogue, therefore beg you will favour me with a copy as early as possible. I never knew that there was a Biography of Flamsteed’s existing, and trust you will favour me with the same as soon as you can.

Any small parcels of astronomical papers will come to me by favour of Herr Schumacher in Altona, who is so kind as to send me his Astronom. Nachrichten regularly for my amusement. And if you could send me the names of the President and of the gentlemen of the present Council, it would greatly oblige me.

I hope you will pardon my having intruded so long on your time, but it has ever been my fault to be tedious in expressing my thoughts on paper; but will now only add that, with great esteem and regard,

Dear Madam,—

I have sincere pleasure in availing myself of the opportunity of writing to you which the Astronomical Society of London has afforded me, by placing my name in the number of Honorary Members, and greatly adding to the value of that distinction by associating my name with yours, to which I have looked up with so much admiration.

My object in writing is to request that you will accept of a copy of my book on the Connexion of the Physical Sciences, which is offered with great deference, having been written for a very different class of readers.

I am proud of the friendship of your nephew, the worthy son of such a father, who is succeeding so well in his glorious undertaking at the Cape. I have seen a letter of the 27th January, when they were all well and prospering.

My dearest Niece,—

Your own dear letter arrived containing such a volume of joyful news, conveyed in the most kindest expressions, as if chosen for the purpose to cheer the heart of feeble age.

I was then not able (nor am I so now) to thank you as I could wish for your sparing so much of your valuable time and strength for the purpose of making me a partaker of your domestic happiness.

I have now received in all five letters, two by your own hands, and three by my nephew. Each time after having read them over again they are put by, under thanksgiving to the Almighty, with a prayer for future protection.

... Writing to my absent friends is one of the most laborious employments I could fly to when under bodily and, of course, mental sickness, for it is not impossible I might, instead of making inquiry about my little precious grand-nephew and the young ladies who play, sing, and sew so prettily, write, “O! my back. O! I have the cramp here, there, &c.”

I had intended to keep a day-book to note down how and where I spent my time, and what was passing about me, which was to have served for yours and my nephew’s amusement some day or other. But this I have given up long since, for seeing nothing but lapses of weeks and months where I could have given no better account of myself than that, after the fatigue of getting up and dressing, I fell asleep on the sofa, with a newspaper or other uninteresting subject in my hands, this would only have put me in mind of the useless life I am leading now.

But within the last two months I have been obliged to exert myself once more to answer two letters, one to Mr. De Morgan, the Secretary of the Royal Astronomical Society, the other to Mr. Baily (who I suppose is President), for they have been pleased to choose me, along with Mrs. Somerville, to be a member (God knows what for) of their Society. This, and receiving visits of congratulation (for congratulate they must about all they find—what they call promotion—in the Zeitungen) has really somewhat disturbed me, though Captain Müller and Mr. Hausmann I am always glad to see; with them I can talk about my nephew, for they know him personally, and admire him. The winter else has passed away rather heavily, because the Landgräfin not being here, I had no other opportunity for seeing anything to put me in mind of England, but going to eight or ten concerts, and those, ill or well, I never missed, for there I was always sure to be noticed by the Duke of Cambridge as his countrywoman (and that is what I want, I will be no Hanoverian!), and then inquiries are made about my nephew and his family; even the little princess, twelve years old, who sometimes when there, comes to give me her hand, asking if I have had any letters from the Cape; but now I have seen the last of them, for the family go to England, and will be absent for many months, and where may I be when they return? But Sunday night I sat a full hour on the sofa with the Duke at Mrs. Beckedorff’s, where I go Sundays from seven to nine, where there is nobody but the female part of Mrs. B.’s family, and another old lady, who was absent on account of being not well. Of this our meeting the good Duke knew all along, and good-naturedly came to join our gossip.

Here I have filled my paper with talking of nothing but myself, because I know that my nephew corresponds with all scientific men in Europe, for I hear frequently of extracts having appeared in the papers (of his communications) by Struve, Littrow, &c., and should suppose he will also know what is done at our Society, of which I now am a fellow! and is of course acquainted with what Mr. Baily mentioned in his letter to me, that at the public expense a new edition of Flamsteed’s work is now in print, and that papers have been found at the Royal Society containing a biography by Flamsteed’s own hands, which—but here I transcribe what Mr. B. writes:—“I lament very much, in common with every friend of science, that Newton’s name is mixed up with transactions that show him in a different light from that in which we have generally received his character. But justice to Flamsteed’s memory would not allow me to suppress any portion of his autobiography.”

Now we talk of biographies, I have no less than nine of my poor brother, and heard of two more, one by Zach, which I shall try to get sight of. There is but one or two which are bordering on truth, the rest being stuff, not worth while to fret about. The best is accompanied with a miniature of Reberg’s bad copy; but I have ordered a lithograph copy to be taken from the portrait by Artaud; if it turns out correct I will send two copies as soon as they come out.

God bless you both, and the dear children, my best niece.

Let the time come whenever it may please God, I leave cash enough behind to clear me from all and any obligations to all who here do know me. Even the expenses of a respectable funeral lie ready to enable my friend Mrs. Beckedorff, and one of my nieces (the widow of Amptmann Knipping,^[49] who lately came to settle at Hanover) to fulfil my directions.

I hope you will pardon my troubling you with such doleful subjects, but I wish to show you that my income is by one third more than I have the power to spend, for by a twelve years’ trial I find that I cannot get rid of more than 600 thl. = £100 per year, without making myself ridiculous.

My dearest Niece,—

I dare not wait any longer for a return of better spirits, such as in which I should like to reply to my nephew’s dated February 22nd, and yours of May 19th, for I fear if I do not at least acknowledge the receipt of them, I shall not be gladdened again by such delightful descriptions of your health and healthful situation, and my nephew’s contentment with the successful progress he is making in his intended observations.

At first, on reading them, I could turn wild, but this is only a flash, for soon I fall in a reverie of what my dear nephew’s father would have felt if such letters could have been directed to him, and cannot suppress my wish that his life instead of mine had been spared until this present moment; for what immense and wonderful discoveries have not been made within these thirteen years, chiefly by his own son, or son’s suggestion!

But I must stop here and turn to more earthly and indifferent subjects (though they ought not to be called indifferent neither), for in the first place I have to return my thanks for no less than three dozen of Constantia wine, but this I shall do but with a very bad grace, for ever since the 11th of May, when I received my nephew’s letter, I have been in the fidgets about the trouble he and his friends must have had before such a thing could reach me.... I feel more reconciled after unburdening myself of some of this weighty concern by making presents to all who love and esteem you so truly, and after setting apart a portion, according to Captain Müller’s advice, with which you may be treated when at your return you may perhaps visit Hanover again, there remains more than ever I can get through with, for I am very desirous to spin out the thread of my life till you return home. And I know it is a mistaken notion that old folks want more of what they call comfort than young ones. It is not very easy to find out what will convey comfort in general.... I, for instance, know of no other comforts like those I derive from yours and my dear niece’s letters. Her last leaves me nothing to wish for....

You compliment me on having a steady hand, but if you were to see the blotting I make before I can make it hang together (when I am composing, as it were, a letter) you would not say so, and, after all, it will cause you some trouble to understand me, for the letter begins to my dear niece, and soon after I find myself talking to you....

Dear Aunt,—

The last accounts we have of you are that you are elected a member of the Astronomical Society, and that to keep you in countenance, and prevent your being the only lady among so many gentlemen, you have for a colleague and sister member, Mrs. Somerville. Now this is well imagined, and we were not a little pleased to hear it. May you long enjoy your well-earned laurels!

As I presume our news will interest you more than comments upon what goes on in Europe, in the first place be it known to you, that we are all well and, thank Heaven, happy. The children, one and all, thrive uncommonly.... The stars go on very well, though for the last two months the weather has been chiefly cloudy, which has hitherto prevented me seeing Halley’s comet. Encke’s (yours) escaped me, owing to trees and the Table Mountain, though I cut away a good gap in our principal oak avenue to get at it. However, Maclear, at the Observatory, succeeded in getting three views of it with the fourteen-foot Newtonian of my father’s (the Glasgow telescope) on the 14th, 19th, and (?) 24th of September. If you have an opportunity of letting this become known to Encke, pray do so—(I shall write to him shortly myself). It was in or near the calculated place, but no measures could be got.

I have now very nearly gone over the whole southern heavens, and over much of it often. So that after another season of reviewing, verifying, and making up accounts (reducing and bringing in order the observations) we shall be looking homewards. In short, I have, to use a homely phrase, broken the neck of the work, and my main object now is to secure and perfect what is done, and get all ready to begin printing the moment we arrive in England; or, if that is not possible, at least to have no more calculation to do....

The Duke of Cambridge hastens to acknowledge the receipt of Miss Herschel’s very obliging note, and to return his many thanks for her attention in sending him some of the Constantia she has lately received from her nephew. He seizes this opportunity of assuring her of the satisfaction he felt at hearing that Mr. Herschel and his family were in good health, and he sincerely hopes that the climate of the Cape will agree with them.

My dear Madam,—

I forwarded some time since, to Professor Schumacher, a copy of my “Account of Flamsteed,” to be sent to you; and which he says was duly transmitted. I am anxious to know whether it has arrived safe, for, as only a limited number of copies were printed (which are all distributed) it cannot be purchased.

I have been the more desirous that you should have a copy, because there is no one that has taken so much pains to elucidate and explain the works of Flamsteed as yourself, and therefore I am bound in gratitude to see that you are put in possession of a copy of the work.

I shall take this opportunity of stating that I hear occasionally from your nephew at the Cape of Good Hope, and that the last accounts confirmed his continuance in good health, and his enjoyment of the pleasures of the fine climate in which he is placed.

I remain, my dear madam, with the assurance of my best respects, and my best wishes for your health and happiness,

Dear Sir,—

I am quite at a loss for terms in which to apologize for having neglected to acknowledge the receiving of your valuable Catalogue and biography of our dear ill-used Flamsteed, which was forwarded to me by the usual kindness and punctuality of Prof. Schumacher on the 9th October last. The same packet also contained Mrs. Somerville’s second edition “On the Connexion,” &c., accompanied by a kind note, dated as far back as April 16th, which, to my sorrow, is also still left unanswered on account of illness, and in the hope that when the days are somewhat longer (my eyes fail me), and that with the return of spring I might perhaps regain some small portion of strength—but I doubt.

The parcel also contained duplicates of my nephew’s second series, and on the satellites of Uranus, and I must trust that on his return he will convey my grateful thanks to you, sir, and the gentlemen, for all the kind attention conferred on me during his absence. My last letter from the Cape is dated October 24th, and I am much gratified by your kindness in having informed my nephew of the wish I have that the volumes of the Royal Astronomical Society’s publications voted to me might be kept for him, and he seems much pleased with the arrangement. I therefore would recommend them to your obliging care till his return. The volume of your “Account of Flamsteed” must be my companion to the last, but I will take care it shall be safely delivered to my nephew.

If I will not lose another post I must conclude with the assurance of ever remaining with great regard,

Dear Aunt,—

Maggie desires me to finish this for her, but she has not left me room to write at length. So I will only devote this space to one point in your last letter which requires reply. I have not got Gauss’s apparatus, and I am not sufficiently acquainted with his method of observing to construct one for myself. Besides which it is quite out of my power to undertake any extensive series of observations, being anxious to get home, and having still so much to do, both in observation and reduction, that I really shall hardly be able to accomplish all I have already in hand. This comet [Halley’s] has been a great interruption to my sweeps, and I hope and fear it may yet be visible another month. Unluckily when I sailed from England I left all my volumes of Poggendorff and the Nachrichten behind me, and none of the former and very few of the latter have reached me here. I fear it is now too late to send home for anything, and I have two series of observations, viz., of the comparative brightness of the southern stars, and of the photometric estimation of their magnitudes—the former just commencing, the latter not yet begun, which I must do. Pray explain this to Gauss.... Astronomical news I have little, but one thing very remarkable I must tell you, γ Virginis is now a single star in both the twenty-foot and the seven-foot equatorial!!!