From your ever-affectionate nephew,
J. F. W. Herschel.
1847. Latter Days.
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.
1848. The Long Life is Ended.
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.