Dearest Nephew!—
I have more than once asked if you would have my history, but my question has never been answered, and I am (though unwillingly) obliged to send it off without having received your permission....
Perhaps I have told you nothing but what you have known long since; but as my thoughts are continually fixed on the past, I was, as it were, conversing with you on paper, not choosing to trust them to any one about me, for I know none who would understand me, or whom it can concern, what my own private opinion and remarks have always been about the transactions that continually passed before my eyes. But there can be no harm in telling my own dear nephew, that I never felt satisfied with the support your father received towards his undertakings, and far less with the ungracious manner in which it was granted. For the last sum came with a message that more must never be asked for. (Oh! how degraded I felt even for myself whenever I thought of it!) And after all it came too late, and was not sufficient; for if expenses had been out of question, there would not have been so much time and labour and expense, for twenty-four men were at times by turns day and night at work, wasted on the first mirror, which had come out too light in the casting (Alex more than once would have destroyed it secretly if I had not persuaded him against it), and without two mirrors you know such an instrument cannot be always ready for observing.
But what grieved me most was, that to the last, your poor father was struggling above his strength against difficulties which he well knew might have been removed, if it had not been attended with too much expense. The last time the mirror was obliged to be taken from the polisher on account of some obstacle, I heard him say (in his usual manner of thinking aloud on such occasions), “It is impossible to make the machine act as required without a room three times as large as this.”
But when all hope for the return of vigour and strength necessary for resuming the unfinished task was gone, all cheerfulness and spirits had also forsaken him, and his temper was changed from the sweetest almost to a pettish one; and for that reason I was obliged to refrain from troubling him with any questions, though ever so necessary, for fear of irritating or fatiguing him; else there was work enough cut out for keeping me employed for several years to come, such as making correct registers of the sweeps in which all Nebulæ were to be laid down and numbered, complete Catalogues, &c. But what I most regret is, that I never could find an opportunity of consulting your father about collecting the observations made with the 40-foot into a separate book from the journals, into which they were written down among other observations made with the other instruments in the same night. I know besides that many must have been lost, being noted only either on slates or on loose papers, like those on the first discovery of the Georgian Satellites. Owing to my not being, as formerly, the last nor the first at the desk (generally retiring as soon as the mirror was covered), the memorandums were often mislaid or effaced before I had an opportunity of booking them. But I ought to remember that suchlike incomplete observations were made under unfavourable circumstances. For instance, the P. D. clock disordered by not having been used for some time; the timepiece not having been regulated, nor every one of the out-door motions wanting oiling or cleaning; company being present; the night not perfectly clear; and, in general, the first night the instrument is used after it has been left at rest for some time, it cannot be expected that all should go on without interruption or ease without a good mechanical workman had spent best part of the day in looking over all the motions, in doing which your father used to find great pleasure.
But what I most lament is, that between the interval before your coming to the age of forming a proper opinion of the instrument, it had nearly fallen into decay almost in all its parts. But we have all had the grief to see how every nerve of the dear man had been unstrung by over-exertion; and that a farther attempt at leaving the work complete became impossible.
But, by the description of the forty-foot telescope given in the Philosophical Transactions, May 18, 1795, it may be seen what a noble instrument had been obtained by all the exertions described in my narrative; but from that description so briefly given there, no idea can be formed with what accuracy and nicety each part of the whole had been executed to make it an instrument fit for the most delicate observations.
P.S.—I must say a few words of apology for the good King, and ascribe the close bargains which were made between him and my brother to the shabby, mean-spirited advisers who were undoubtedly consulted on such occasions; but they are dead and gone, and no more of them! Sir J. Banks remained a sincere well-meaning friend to the last.
Farewell, my best Nephew!
1827. Sir William’s Copy of Locke.