1775-1782. Life in Bath.

“But every leisure moment was eagerly snatched at for resuming some work which was in progress, without taking time for changing dress, and many a lace ruffle was torn or bespattered by molten pitch, &c., besides the danger to which he continually exposed himself by the uncommon precipitancy which accompanied all his actions, of which we had a melancholy sample one Saturday evening, when both brothers returned from a concert between 11 and 12 o’clock, my eldest brother pleasing himself all the way home with being at liberty to spend the next day (except a few hours’ attendance at chapel) at the turning bench, but recollecting that the tools wanted sharpening, they ran with the lantern and tools to our landlord’s grindstone in a public yard, where they did not wish to be seen on a Sunday morning.... But my brother William was soon brought back fainting by Alex with the loss of one of his finger-nails. This happened in the winter of 1775, at a house situated near Walcot turnpike, to which my brother had moved at midsummer, 1774. On a grass plot behind the house preparation was immediately made for erecting a twenty-foot telescope, for which, among seven and ten foot mirrors then in hand, one of twelve foot was preparing; this house offered more room for workshops, and a place on the roof for observing.

“During this summer I lost the only female acquaintances (not friends) I ever had an opportunity of being very intimate with by Bulmer’s family returning again to Leeds. For my time was so much taken up with copying music and practising, besides attendance on my brother when polishing, since by way of keeping him alive I was constantly obliged to feed him by putting the victuals by bits into his mouth. This was once the case when, in order to finish a seven foot mirror, he had not taken his hands from it for sixteen hours together.[[6]] In general he was never unemployed at meals, but was always at those times contriving or making drawings of whatever came in his mind. Generally I was obliged to read to him whilst he was at the turning lathe, or polishing mirrors, Don Quixote, Arabian Nights’ Entertainment, the novels of Sterne, Fielding, &c.; serving tea and supper without interrupting the work with which he was engaged, ... and sometimes lending a hand. I became in time as useful a member of the workshop as a boy might be to his master in the first year of his apprenticeship.... But as I was to take a part the next year in the oratorios, I had for a whole twelvemonth two lessons per week from Miss Fleming, the celebrated dancing mistress, to drill me for a gentlewoman (God knows how she succeeded). So we lived on without interruption. My brother Alex was absent from Bath for some months every summer, but when at home he took much pleasure to execute some turning or clockmaker’s work for his brother.”

News from Hanover put a sudden stop for a time to all these labours. The mother wrote, in the utmost distress, to say that Dietrich had disappeared from his home, it was supposed with the intention of going to India “with a young idler not older than himself.” His brother immediately left the lathe at which he was turning an eye-piece in cocoanut, and started for Holland, whence he proceeded to Hanover, failing to meet his brother as he expected. Meanwhile the sister received a letter to say that Dietrich was laid up very ill at an inn in Wapping. Alexander posted to town, removed him to a lodging, and after a fortnight’s nursing, brought him to Bath, where, on his brother William’s return, he found him being well cared for by his sister, who kept him to a diet of “roasted apples and barley-water.” Dietrich remained in England, his brother easily procuring him employment until 1779, when he returned to Hanover, and shortly afterwards married a Miss Reif. The family now moved to a larger house, 19, New King Street, which had a garden behind it, and open space down to the river. It is incidentally mentioned, “that here many interesting discoveries besides the Georgium Sidus were made.”

In preparation for the oratorios to be performed during Lent, Miss Herschel mentions that she copied the scores of the “Messiah” and “Judas Maccabæus” into parts for an orchestra of nearly one hundred performers, and the vocal parts of “Samson,” besides instructing the treble singers, of which she was now herself the first. On the occasion of her first public appearance, her brother presented her with ten guineas for her dress,—

“And that my choice could not have been a bad one I conclude from having been pronounced by Mr. Palmer (the then proprietor of the Bath theatre) to be an ornament to the stage. And as to acquitting myself in giving my songs and recitatives in the ‘Messiah,’ ‘Judas Maccabæus,’ &c., I had the satisfaction of being complimented by my friends, the Marchioness of Lothian, &c., who were present at the rehearsals, for pronouncing my words like an Englishwoman.”

It is evident that had she chosen to persevere, her reputation as a singer would have been secure. The following year she was first singer at the concerts, and was offered an engagement for the Birmingham Festival, which she declined, having resolved only to sing in public where her brother was conductor. At this time he had repeated proposals from London publishers to bring out some of his vocal compositions, but with the exception of “The Echo” catch, none of them ever appeared in print. Besides the regular Sunday services, concerts and oratorios had to be prepared for and performed in steady routine, sometimes at Bristol also, while the poor prima-donna-housekeeper “hobbled on” with one dishonest servant after another, until Whit Sunday, 1782, when both brother and sister played and sung for the last time, in St. Margaret’s Chapel. On this occasion, their last performance in public, the anthem selected for the day was one of the last compositions, of which mention has been made above.

The name of William Herschel was fast becoming famous, as a writer, a discoverer, and the possessor and inventor of instruments of unheard-of power. He was now about to be released from the necessity of devoting the time to music which he was eager to give to astronomical science.[[7]] It came about as follows:—

... “He was now frequently interrupted by visitors who were introduced by some of his resident scholars, among whom I remember Sir Harry Engelfield, Dr. Blagden, and Dr. Maskelyne. With the latter he was engaged in a long conversation, which to me sounded like quarrelling, and the first words my brother said after he was gone was: ‘That is a devil of a fellow.’... I suppose their names were not known, or were forgotten; for it was not till the year 1782 or 1783 that a memorandum of the names of visitors was thought of.... My brother applied himself to perfect his mirrors, erecting in his garden a stand for his twenty-foot telescope; many trials were necessary before the required motions for such an unwieldy machine could be contrived. Many attempts were made by way of experiment against a mirror for an intended thirty-foot telescope could be completed, for which, between whiles (not interrupting the observations with seven, ten, and twenty-foot, and writing papers for both the Royal and Bath Philosophical Societies) gauges, shapes, weight, &c., of the mirror were calculated, and trials of the composition of the metal were made. In short, I saw nothing else and heard nothing else talked of but about these things when my brothers were together. Alex was always very alert, assisting when anything new was going forward, but he wanted perseverance, and never liked to confine himself at home for many hours together. And so it happened that my brother William was obliged to make trial of my abilities in copying for him catalogues, tables, &c., and sometimes whole papers which were lent him for his perusal. Among them was one by Mr. Michel and a catalogue of Christian Mayer in Latin, which kept me employed when my brother was at the telescope at night. When I found that a hand was sometimes wanted when any particular measures were to be made with the lamp micrometer, &c., or a fire to be kept up, or a dish of coffee necessary during a long night’s watching, I undertook with pleasure what others might have thought a hardship.... Since the discovery of the Georgium Sidus [March 13, 1781], I believe few men of learning or consequence left Bath before they had seen and conversed with its discoverer, and thought themselves fortunate in finding him at home on their repeated visits. Sir William Watson[[8]] was almost an intimate, for hardly a day passed but he had something to communicate from the letters which he received from Sir Joseph Banks and other members of the Royal Society, from which it appeared that my brother was expected in town to receive the gold medal. The end of November was the most precarious season for absenting himself. But Sir William went with him, and it was arranged so that they set out with the diligence at night, and by that means his absence did not last above three or four days, when my brother returned alone, Sir William remaining with his father.

“Now a very busy winter was commencing; for my brother had engaged himself to conduct the oratorios conjointly with Ronzini, and had made himself answerable for the payment of the engaged performers, for his credit ever stood high in the opinion of every one he had to deal with. (He lost considerably by this arrangement.) But, though at times much harassed with business, the mirror for the thirty-foot reflector was never out of his mind, and if a minute could but be spared in going from one scholar to another, or giving one the slip, he called at home to see how the men went on with the furnace, which was built in a room below, even with the garden.