On the 25th of August, 1822, Sir William Herschel died in his house at Slough.
A small book, containing a very few pages, entitled “Memorandum from 1823 to,” &c., gives the sad history of the last days of that long life of indefatigable toil over which the devoted sister had watched so long with untiring love. It would be easy, and perhaps in some respects preferable, to tell the story without the details, but it would be at the cost of much that is characteristic and illustrative of the nature which has thus far been unfolded from within, and it is the last chapter of her life which she thought worth recalling to memory and committing to paper. The terrible blow of the death of her brother seems to have deprived her of all power or desire to do or to will anything beyond the one stern, dogged resolve to leave England for ever as soon as the beloved remains were buried from her sight. Six months after her return to Hanover she thus prefaced this last and most pathetic of her Recollections:—
Hanover, April 15th, 1823.
“Eighteen months have elapsed since I could acquire fortitude enough for noting down in my Day-book any of those heartrending occurrences I witnessed during the last nine months of the fifty years I have lived in England, and I cannot hope that ever a time will come when I shall be able to dwell on any one of those interesting but melancholy hours I spent with the dearest and best of brothers. But if I was to leave off making memorandums of such events as either affect or are interesting to me, I should feel like what I am, viz., a person that has nothing more to do in this world.
“But to regain the thread of my narration, it is necessary to take notice of the vacancy between the present date and the ending of the year 1821, and the only way in which I can possibly fill up this vacancy must be to take a few dates with memorandums marked in my almanac and account books for the year 1822, without making any comments on what my feelings and situation must have been throughout that whole interval.
“By some letters I wrote during the first four months of 1822 to my brother Alexr. here at Hanover, I see that I was employed in copying from the Philosophical Transactions the first twelve papers of my brother’s publications. The time required for this purpose I could only obtain by making use of most of the hours which are generally allotted to rest, as during the day my time was spent in endeavours to support my dear brother in his painful decline. And besides, the hope that we might continue yet a little longer together began to forsake me, for my own health and spirits were in that state that I was in daily expectation of going before.[[27]] Therefore each moment of separation from my dear brother I spent in endeavours to arrange my affairs so that my nephew, J. Herschel, as the executor of my will, might have as little trouble as possible.
[A letter of eighteen pages would have been found along with a will, if I had (as I then daily expected) died before my brother. After the sad events of the succeeding two years, I thought it necessary to destroy both the will and the letter.] My thoughts were continually divided between my brother’s library, from which I was now on the point of being severed for ever, and my own unfinished work at home endeavouring to bring by degrees all into its proper place.”
Recollections written at Hanover.
Diary—(continued).
May 13th.—Lady Herschel and my nephew went to town: I was left with my brother alone, but was counting every hour till I should see them again, for I was momentarily afraid of his dying in their absence.