But now, from seven to eight till between eleven and twelve, I am left to amuse myself as well as I may, but it is no easy task to turn books into companions by one who has no eyes left; but there is no help for it. There is neither man, woman, nor child in Hanover to be found but they must spend the evening at balls, plays, routs, clubs, &c., and not a month goes over one’s head without a jubilee being celebrated at enormous expense to someone who has fifty years enjoyed title and salaries for doing his duty (anyhow, perhaps).
But what a contrast between a jubilee auf der Börse[[53]] at Hanover and the one at Slough,[[54]] described in your letter with which I was made happy January 4th. The company so select—for I figure to myself none but angels from above were listening to, and joining their kindred in the chorus below!... Before I take leave of this jubilee I must beg the excellent poet of the song to accept my hearty thanks for remembering me so kindly in verse 4, and for not letting the poor forty-foot telescope[[55]] depart in silence.
1840. Misfortunes of Friends.
MISS HERSCHEL TO LADY HERSCHEL.
April 5, 1840.
My dearest Niece!—
Your delightful letter of March 8th, which I received about a week after that of my dear nephew, could never have come at a more needful time for chasing away the melancholy impressions my friends’ losses and misfortunes have had on my spirits. On the 7th of March Dr. Mühry came to wish me joy on my nephew’s birthday. Nine days after, when they all used to come and bring me flowers, &c., the whole family were thrown into despair by the death of Dr. C. M., who died by his own hands (thirty-four years old). About a week before I had spent an evening with him at his grandmother’s, when he begged me to thank my nephew once more for giving him a letter of introduction to Dr. ——, at Oxford. This poor man was spoiled by being made too much of from his infancy. As a boy of seven or eight, he was brought to England to visit his grandmother and aunt, and was loaded with costly presents by the Princesses, and fed with nothing but dainties, till, when grown up, nothing but what was most extravagant would satisfy him. The 30th of March our friend P—— was buried, eighty-three years old. On my birthday a circular letter came by post, announcing Dr. Olbers’s death. So, I must say once more, my nephew’s and your dear letter came very seasonably to turn my thoughts to something more cheering....
Now I am in two minds whether I shall turn to my dear niece or have done with you first. But out with it! I would, if you have no objection, draw on Mr. Drummond for £52,
* * * * *
and if I should (as it seems) live to the age of Methuselah, come again for the same sum after the 10th of October next. For this is quite enough for me to live with credit, and more would only be a trouble to me.