... Nine o’clock in the evening (February 19). This is the first moment of quiet after six days in tumultuous joys by all living beings, from the most highest to the most lowest, and I will give you here an account of what share I have had in the rejoicings. In the first place, I must begin with confessing that I have been uncommonly ill of late, and nobody came near me to comfort me; for all my friends were too busy with gala-dresses, or else laid up with colds, &c., from shopping in bad weather, and paddling about in the snow, and I am at this moment ignorant of how they have fared....

I have not time to fill the paper, for my friends begin now to take up my little time of my short forenoons, and the evenings I cannot see; so here I send what I have been scribbling, and will only add that the enclosed programme was sent me, on the 14th by the Crown Prince, who having inquired through somebody after my health, and hearing I was well, and preparing for illumination, was much affected; and yesterday his adjutant, Major Stolzenberg, brought me a message from the Crown Prince, including H. R. H. the Princess, with a present of their portraits.

My dearest Nephew!—

Many thanks for your dear letter, which I found on my breakfast-table on the morning of the 16th March,^[63] ... when the Crown Prince and Princess were announced. Mrs. Clarke, who just came in, assisted me to entertain the royal and interesting pair for nearly an hour. They came in arm in arm, carrying an immense bouquet before them, which I heard afterwards they were returning with from the hothouses at Herrnhausen. As soon as the Princess was placed on the sofa, and I beside the same, the Crown Prince drew a chair close to me, chatting and joining in our conversation. I could not help giving the Princess the lines of your letter to read, where you mention them so prettily, and presenting her with “The Walk,” which was lying among the flowers and the open letters before us on the table. It was a little rumpled in the coming, which she said made it the more welcome, as it would remind her of its having once been mine.

I intended to amuse you with the list of the names and titles of all the visitors I had to receive on that day, but you will find them one of these days in my Day-book; and I will only say that it was rather too much to expect me to be civil to upwards of thirty persons in one day, which lasted till evening, so that I had no time to eat a morsel, finding myself seriously ill.

Memorandum for my next letter, made April 23rd.

To my Nephew. On reading your letter to the editor of the Times, of March 31st, I recollect having written down some observations of your father’s on the zodiacal light; he never lost an opportunity of noticing anything remarkable during twilight, or in the absence of nebulæ, &c., and I remember also his explaining to me another kind of ray, which is after sun-setting, reaching up very high; but this only appears for one or two nights at the equinox: but I have forgot all about it, and want only to speak here about a temporary Index to observations, in which I know a few of suchlike memorandums were catalogued or carried in their separate books. With this Index your father was never satisfied, telling me, “I could not make an Index, it was a task Sir I. Newton had found too difficult to accomplish,” ... and he would hardly allow me to make use of this book, after calling it a temporary Index. But it has often saved me a whole week’s poring over the Journals for a memorandum....

My dearest and best Niece,—

I must write a few lines by way of thanking you for your dear letter of May 9th. Your description of the splendid observations which are made on the roof of your own mansion, recall the many solitary and, at the same time, happy hours I spent on my little roof at Slough, when I was not wanted at the twenty-foot. And I cannot help at the same time regretting my having spent these last twenty years in so useless a manner, between roofs and houses which prevent my seeing even an eclipse of the moon when in a low part of the ecliptic, it passes away behind the houses of my opposite neighbours; and so did the glorious tail of your comet, of which, however, I have gathered all that has been said in the papers, besides what you and my dear nephew have been so kind as to communicate....

I have just been reading part of your dear packet over again, and am resolved to follow your advice, and say as little of what happens now as possibly I can help, and send herewith what I call the first part of my History, of which I wish you will in your very next give me your sincere opinion. I shall judge by it if I may go on, or lay down the pen for ever.

(I hope the packet containing my brother’s biography has been safely taken care of among his papers, for I have no copy of it; pray let me know if you have seen such a packet, I think it is in quarto, and that I put it in a cover like all the MSS.)

Of the present I can only say that I have been unable to do anything beside keeping myself alive, and getting my clothes on by twelve at noon, so that I may be able to receive anybody who may call on me between that hour and eight in the evening.

This brings to my remembrance, that when I was godmother to Mrs. Waterhouse’s eldest sister in 1787, I was called away in the afternoon to help my brother to receive the Princesse Lamballe, who came with a numerous attendance to see the moon, &c. About a fortnight after, her head was off.

My dear Aunt,—

Again we are rejoiced by the sight of your handwriting, and by the admirable and truly interesting History of your own younger days, which you have sent with your delightful letter, and which arrived perfectly safe, and, you may be sure, will be treasured as the apple of the eye, and often read and re-read. I began the reading of it last evening to all your grand-nephews and nieces who are old enough to understand it, and the History of their great-grandpapa’s hardships after the Battle of Dettingen, and poor uncle Alexander’s harsh treatment, and your own quiet, thoughtful activity and self-dependence, made on all my hearers, as well as on myself, an impression which I am sure will not easily be forgotten, and which I shall take care not to let them forget. We all entreat you to continue it, and you need not be in any fear about the writing. Your handwriting (Gottlob^[64]) is still excellently good, and there was not a word either in your letter or in the “History” that gave me the least trouble to read....

... I visited in London Mde. Taylor (whom you entrusted with the pictures of your Royal visitors, which are very charming things, and seem as if they must be good likenesses). I did not find her husband at home, but she is a very pleasing person, and pleased me greatly by the respectful and friendly way in which she spoke of you. We hope to see them here, where they will be much valued, as will be the effigy or recollection of everybody that has been kind to you, or anything that has given you pleasure....

The only news I have to send you is that of Capt. Ross’s safe return with the South Polar Expedition after nearly four years’ absence, having penetrated to the 79th degree of S. Lat., and discovered a new continent full of volcanoes and icy mountains, and the true position of the south magnetic pole. He anchored his ship upon the spot where the Americans say they found land, and found no bottom at six hundred fathoms!

My dearest Nephew,—

... For these last three months I have not been able to add a single line to my Memoir, but what you will find among my papers and memorandums; perhaps your daughter Isabella may, for her amusement some time or other, correct and write in the clear, my scribblings, for I find that in attempting to correct one blunder I am making two others in the same line. But I wish you might see, by what I say of myself, what trouble and invention it must have cost your father to enable me to assist in determining the places of all these objects, and I see with pleasure that your observations agree so nearly.

I was going to send, for the amusement of my dear niece, some description of what is going on here in Hanover, but I find it would be too much for my time and patience at present, and will only say that I believe they are all out of their senses.

There is an Eisenbahn^[65] from Hanover to Braunschweig just now completed, which has turned them all wild. Some hundreds of high officers all (but the King) set off at eight o’clock to breakfast with the Braunschweigers, and returned with the same at three to dinner (eight hundred in number) in the orangery at Herrnhausen, from whence the Braunschweigers returned and were at home, I believe, again at eight.

I am too tired at present, else I was going to tell you how they are building. Hanover is now twice as large as when you saw it last; nothing but castles will serve them any longer. I have all this from hearsay, for I have not been downstairs since February 3, 1842.

They talk of nothing here at the clubs but of the great mirror and the great man who made it. I have but one answer for all, which is, “Der Kerl ist ein Narr!”^[66]...

My dearest Niece,—

Have I understood you aright? Saw you the thermometer 1½° above zero? the lowest I have heard of here was only 13° below freezing; but we are buried in snow!

March 5th.—No alteration in the weather, nor in my affection for my dear niece and nephew and their ten children! the first is as cold as the latter is warm!

In his father’s library my nephew must have found a folio volume of H—— (an astronomer and copper engraver), where, for every hour a distinct picture [of the moon] is given. In the Phil. Transactions for 1780, p. 507, is the first paper of William Herschel on the Moon. In 1787; 1792, p. 27; 1793, p. 206, measure of mountains, &c.

Twenty-three years ago, when first I came here, I visited Madame W. (not von) once or twice, saw her observatory and a telescope, I believe not above 24-inch focal length; at that time she amused herself with modelling the heads of the Roman Emperors: her daughter, then a girl, was a poet, and a portrait of her was exhibited as a Sappho crowned with laurels....

The great difficulty of writing begins at last to tell in Miss Herschel’s correspondence. One more letter in 1845, is the last of the ample sheets she had been used to fill. The monthly report becomes shorter, more blotted, and betrays extreme feebleness. On the first of October, 1846, she wrote:

My dearest Niece!—

I must not let the messenger go without a line just to say that I am still in the land of the living, of which, however, I have no other proof than a letter from Baron v. Humboldt, inclosing a Golden Medal from the King of Prussia. I can say no more at present, and the post will not wait, so believe me, my dear niece, yours and my dear nephew’s most affectionate aunt,

The following is the letter referred to from Alexander von Humboldt which accompanied the Gold Medal presented by the King of Prussia on the occasion of her ninety-sixth birthday:—

Most honoured Lady and Friend!—

His Majesty the King, in recognition of the valuable services rendered to Astronomy by you, as the fellow-worker of your immortal brother, Sir William Herschel, by discoveries, observations, and laborious calculations, commanded me, before his departure for Silesia, to convey to you, in his name, the large Gold Medal for Science, and to express to you the gratification he felt that, by God’s grace, your noble life has been a long succession of years free of pain, and that now in your solitude you continue to enjoy the reflected glory of the all-embracing knowledge, the great labours in both hemispheres, and the profoundly penetrating genius of your illustrious nephew, Sir John Herschel. To be had in remembrance by an intellectual and kind-hearted Prince cannot be a matter of indifference to you. He had wished you to receive this little gratification on your ninety-sixth birthday, and by an unfortunate mistake the date of Caroline Lucretia Herschel’s birth has been changed from the 16th of March to the 16th of October, and I am the culprit, misled by a misprint in a French history of astronomy. I know I may count upon your indulgence and that of your distinguished family in England. I specially deserve such leniency to-day—the day on which my young friend, Dr. Galle, assistant astronomer in our Observatory (to the triumph of theoretical astronomy be it said), has discovered the transuranian planet indicated by Leverrier as the cause of the perturbations of Uranus.

Do not trouble yourself to write to the King; I will convey your thanks to him.

Once more a few lines, begun November 1st, and finished December 3rd, were traced, betraying, now only for the first time, the apprehension that they might be the last, in the words—

Miss Beckedorff shall write for me if I do not get better. Loves to all.

Even this, the last letter of all, is addressed in a large, clear handwriting. Henceforth “the messenger” carried no more the large familiar sheet which had often been filled at the cost of many days’ work and frequent re-writing; but her kind friend, Miss Beckedorff, wrote a regular monthly report to the anxious friends in England, from which the following most interesting extracts are taken:—

... She said that whilst she was idling away her time on her couch she had—with her mind’s eye—set up a whole solar system in one corner of her room, and given to each newly-discovered star its proper place. She cried when I told her again of your and Sir John’s solicitude about her, &c.

Her likeness has been taken by two young painters lately.... She was sitting—or rather reclining—for her picture whilst my niece was with her, and the exertion of it made her at first nervous and hysterical, but by degrees she overcame it, and conversed cheerfully. I am sorry to say the drawing which I saw did not do justice to her intelligent countenance; the features are too strong, not feminine enough, and the expression too fierce; but I hear the picture which I did not see is more like her.

I am commissioned by dear Miss Herschel to send to you and for her dear nephew, with her best love, the accompanying print, which I fear will at first sight not satisfy you. The artist has, I believe, imitated the style of the old German school of Albert Dürer, resembling more a ‘woodcut’ than a print, nor does it justice to her fine old countenance. Yet it is extremely like in features, expression, and deportment, her eyes having taken the languid expression more from fatigue occasioned by her sitting for the picture, whilst she is used generally to recline on her sofa, and I see them very frequently sparkle with all their former animation.... She has, as I predicted, lived to begin her ninety-eighth year, and she has stood the exertions and excitements of her birthday even better than could have been expected. I saw her on the 15th, and again on the 17th; for knowing that Mrs. Clarke, who, like all General Halkett’s family, are full of kind attentions to her, would act as her aide-de-camp on the occasion, I felt that it would only be adding to the number of those who must be kindly spoken to if I had gone to see her on the 16th. Upon passing the door I just saw a beautiful and most comfortable velvet armchair, a cake, and magnificent nosegay carried up to her, and soon after met the gracious donor, our kind Crown-Princess, with the Crown-Prince and the Royal child driving to her; they stayed nearly two hours, Miss Herschel conversing with them without relaxation, and even singing to them a composition of Sir William’s, ‘Suppose we sing a Catch.’ The King sent his message by Countess Grote. On the 17th I found her, more revived than exhausted, in a new gown and smart cap, which Betty provided; and Betty’s own cap was new trimmed for the occasion, strictly in keeping with the style of her mistress, and I can but again commend the judgment and zeal with which she makes her arrangements for the comfort and appearance of dear Miss Herschel, and for a fit reception of her high and numerous visitors.

... I ran over to ask for Miss Herschel’s own message before I seal. I am to “give her best love to her dear nephew, niece, and the children, and to say that she often wished to be with them, often felt alone, did not quite like old age with its weaknesses and infirmities, but that she too sometimes laughed at the world, liked her meals, and was satisfied with Betty’s services.”

... You may rest assured that she is most carefully attended to, and Betty is not only fully to be depended upon, but is also extremely judicious, and the only person who has gained Miss Herschel’s entire confidence and approbation.... I have charged her to come to me whenever she sees a possibility of doing anything for her mistress’s comfort, and, from the girl’s unaffected attachment for her, can quite rely upon her. Dear Miss Herschel has, indeed, arranged everything beforehand; and for years past has reserved a sum to answer all calls in the event of her death.

... I generally find her dozing, and now always lying on her sofa; she requires, however, but a very short moment to recollect herself, and then enters into a conversation, of which she takes the greater and by far the better part on herself. It generally carries her back to old times and events and persons long gone by, sometimes with great humour, sometimes with regret; and when she enters upon subjects of vexation, I have the means of restoring cheerfulness and satisfaction by speaking of her nephew and his family. She avoids topics of a directly serious and religious nature—and is indeed so much alone that she has time for these reflections when by herself.

A few days ago she talked of her childhood, and even sung me a little ballad she had then learnt.

While her faculties were equal to the appreciation of the gift, she received a copy of Sir John Herschel’s great work of Cape Observations. The first of the two following letters tells how it was in progress; the next announces its completion; and thus, by a most striking and happy coincidence, she, whose unflagging toil had so greatly contributed to its successful prosecution in the hands of her beloved brother, lived to witness its triumphant termination through the no-less persistent industry and strenuous labour of his son, and her last days were crowned by the possession of the work which brought to its glorious conclusion Sir William Herschel’s vast undertaking—The Survey of the Nebulous Heavens.

My dear Aunt,—

Your letter, which arrived this morning, confirms the apprehension which the absence of any news from you during the last month had begun to excite, that you were unwell, and has caused us the liveliest sorrow. How I wish we were near you, that dear M. could be with you and nurse you. But the same kind Providence which has preserved you so long in health will not fail you in sickness. Meanwhile, I pray and entreat you not to decline the attendance of our good Dr. Mühry, or to avail yourself of any comforts that Hanover can afford. We shall look most anxiously for further accounts from Mde. Knipping, or if her family distresses will not allow her (as you say she has lost her mother very lately), from the kind pen of Miss Beckedorff, and I hope they will not wait for the messenger, but write by the post, and that immediately, as soon as this reaches your hands.

Still I trust to see many more letters in your own handwriting, and that the cessation of the very severe weather we have had of late will prove beneficial in restoring your strength, to enable you to face the farther progress of the season, which, if your climate is anything like ours, is always worse in February than at Christmas....

I am working still hard at my book (of which you will have by this time received the first four hundred pages), but I cannot get on quite so fast as I would, and I greatly fear it will not be out by Christmas.

My dear Aunt,—

I send to the messenger who will take this, a copy of my “Cape Observations” for you, and I hope it will not be too large for him to take.

You will then have in your hands the completion of my father’s work—“The Survey of the Nebulous Heavens.”

I hope you will be able to look at the figures (the engravings of the principal nebulæ). As to the letter-press, the Introduction will perhaps interest you, and I daresay Miss Beckedorff or Mde. Knipping will be kind enough to read it to you—a little at a time.

A copy is on its way I presume by this time to His Majesty the King of Hanover, as a testimony of respect to a sovereign who has shown you on many occasions such kind attentions.

Louisa sends you all our news, and the autographs of Struve and Adams, who, with M. Leverrier, are now at Collingwood.

But the time was past when such gifts could be acknowledged with the old enthusiasm, though the faculty to appreciate them had not failed, and we can well imagine how nothing in the power of man to bestow could have given her such pleasure on her death-bed as this last crowning completion of her brother’s work.

The Day-book had long ceased. The final entry, on 3rd September, 1845, is “Astronomischen Nachrichten^[67] came in.” As the letters show, the never-failing birthday festival had been gallantly encountered, and the accustomed offerings of her many friends with their good wishes, always including those of the Royal Family, received in the usual place. But the curtain begins to descend, and the months to go by with only a bulletin to announce that she still lived, and, as the following extract from a letter written by her friend Miss Beckedorff shows, with unabated will and perfectly collected faculties:—

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 Dr. M.’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, and although she at times rallies wonderfully, we can hardly expect that another month will elapse ere I have to make my sad and last report.... She says that she is without pain; fever has left her, and her pulse is regular and good, though weak at times. She still turns and even raises herself without assistance, and at times converses with us.... 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 very 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 that I am good for nothing,” and went to sleep again.... She is not averse to seeing visitors.

January 6th.

Four days later the same kind friend had to tell how peacefully and gently the end came at last.

Jan. 10th, 1848.—Your excellent aunt, my kind revered friend, breathed her last at eleven o’clock last night, the 9th of January.... She suffered but little, and went to sleep at last with scarcely a struggle. Up to the last moment she has had the most undeniable proofs of the affection and veneration of her own family and a number of friends, both English and German. Mr. Wilkinson, the English clergyman, has been unremitting in his visits, and so kind and judicious was his manner, that she received them to the last with unfeigned satisfaction.... At four o’clock the guns announced the birth of a young Princess—an event she had anticipated with much interest; and upon her being told of it she opened her eyes for the last time with consciousness.

The following, translated from a letter of Miss Herschel’s niece, Mrs. Knipping, to her cousin, Sir J. Herschel, is a most precious fragment, expressing the sentiments of one who for years contributed to lighten the grievous burden of age and growing infirmity by her constant affection and appreciative sympathy. The regret that so little remains from the same pen is enhanced by the fact that no notes, or memorials of any kind, appear to exist by which we might hope to picture to ourselves one whose unconscious self-portraiture makes us crave to see and know and become familiarly acquainted with her, as she was seen and known by others. Comparatively recent as was her death, to the best of our knowledge all have passed away from whose lips we could hope to gather the impressions of personal acquaintance. Excepting from the letters already quoted on the occasion of her nephew’s two visits to Hanover, it is not until she lay on her death-bed that we obtain a glimpse of her drawn by any other hand than her own.

... I felt almost a sense of joyful relief at the death of my aunt, in the thought that now the unquiet heart was at rest. All that she had of love to give was concentrated on her beloved brother. At his death she felt herself alone. For after those long years of separation she could not but find us all strange to her, and no one could ever replace his loss. Time did indeed lessen and soften the overpowering weight of her grief, and then she would regret that she had ever left England, and condemned herself to live in a country where nobody cared for astronomy. I shared her regret, but I knew too well that even in England she must have found the same blank. She looked upon progress in science as so much detraction from her brother’s fame, and even your investigations would have become a source of estrangement had she been with you. She lived altogether in the past, and she found the present not only strange but annoying. Now, thank God, she has gone where she will find again all that she loved. I shall long feel her loss, for I prized and loved her dearly, and it is to me a most precious recollection that she loved me best of all those here, admitted me to closer intimacy, and allowed me to know something even of her inner life.

All the necessary instructions about her property, her house, her burial, she had written years before; even the sum which she considered sufficient had been carefully set apart for the funeral expenses, and everything, down to the minutest trifle, had been arranged, so that her executor, Sir John Herschel, might have the least possible trouble. She especially prayed him not to come should her death occur in the winter; but the reiterated instructions through the long series of letters show how keen was her anxiety that whatever she possessed of value should pass into his hands, and that no one of her Hanoverian connections, with the exception of Mrs. Knipping [who, with Miss Beckedorff, was entrusted with her keys], should intermeddle. She desired to be laid beside her father and mother, and an inscription^[68] of her own composition records how she was her brother’s assistant, &c. She was followed to the grave by many relations and friends, the Royal carriages forming part of the procession; the coffin was covered with garlands of laurel and cypress and palm branches sent by the Crown Princess from Herrnhausen, and the holy words spoken over it were uttered in that same garrison church in which, nearly a century before, she had been christened, and afterwards confirmed. One direction she could not put on paper, but she desired Mrs. Knipping to place in her coffin a lock of her beloved brother’s hair and an old, almost obliterated, almanack that had been used by her father.