reception discourse in verse. At the moment when that poet, then almost
sixty years of age, said, speaking of himself,
"No gall has ever poisoned my pen,"
the hall reëchoed with approbation.
I was going to apply this line by the author of _Rhadamistus_ to our
colleague, when accident offered to my sight a passage in which Lalande
reproaches Bailly for having swerved from his usual character, in 1773,
in a discussion that they had together on a point in the theory of
Jupiter's Satellites. I set about the search for this discussion; I
found the article by Bailly in a journal of that epoch, and I affirm
that this dispute does not contain a word but what is in harmony with
all our colleague's published writings. I return therefore to my former
idea, and say of Bailly, with perfect confidence,
"No gall had ever poisoned his pen."
Diffidence is usually the trait that the biographers of studious men
endeavour most to put in high relief. I dare assert, that in the common
acceptation, this is pure flattery. To merit the epithet of diffident,
must we think ourselves beneath the competitors of whom we are at least
the equals? Must we, in examining ourselves, fail in the tact, in the
intelligence, in the judgment, that nature has awarded us, and of which
we make so good a use in appreciating the works of others? Oh! then, few
learned men can be said to be diffident. Look at Newton: his diffidence
is almost as celebrated as his genius. Well, I will extract from two of
his letters, scarcely known, two paragraphs which, put side by side,
will excite some surprise; the first confirms the general opinion; the
second seems with equal force to contradict it. Here are the two
passages:
"We are diffident in the presence of Nature."
"We may nobly feel our own strength in the face of man's works."
In my opinion, the opposition in these two passages is only apparent; it
will he explained by means of a distinction which I have already
slightly indicated.
Bailly's diffidence required the same distinction. When people praised
him to his face on the diversity of his knowledge, our colleague did not
immediately repel the compliment; but soon after, he would stop his
panegyrist, and whisper in his ear with an air of mystery: "I will
confide a secret to you, pray do not take advantage of it: I am only a
very little less ignorant than another man."
Never did a man act more in harmony with his principles. Bailly was led
to reprimand severely a man belonging to the humblest and poorest class
of society. Anger does not make him forget that he speaks to a citizen,
to a man. "I ask pardon," says the first magistrate of the capital,
addressing himself to a rag-gatherer; "I ask your pardon, if I am angry;
but your conduct is so reprehensible, that I cannot speak to you
otherwise."
Bailly's friends were wont to say that he devoted too much of his
patrimony to pleasure. This word was calumniously interpreted. Mérard
Saint Just has given the true sense of it: "Bailly's pleasure was
beneficence."
So eminent a mind could not fail to be tolerant. Such in fact Bailly
constantly showed himself in politics, and what is almost equally rare,
in regard to religion. In the month of June, 1791, he checked in severe
terms the fury with which the multitude appeared to be excited, at the
report that at the Théatines some persons had taken the Communion two
or three times in one day. "The accusation is undoubtedly false," said
the Mayor of Paris; "but if it were true, the public would not have a
right to inquire into it. Every one should have the free choice of his
religion and his creed." Nothing would have been wanting in the picture,
if Bailly had taken the trouble to remark how strange it was, that these
violent scruples against repeated Communions emanated from persons who
probably never took the Sacrament at all.
The reports on animal magnetism, on the hospitals, on the
slaughter-houses, had carried Bailly's name into regions, whence the
courtiers knew very cleverly how to discard true merit. _Madame_ then
wished to attach the illustrious academician to her person as a cabinet
secretary. Bailly accepted. It was an entirely honorary title. The
secretary saw the princess only once, that was on the day of his
presentation.
Were more important functions reserved for him? We must suppose so; for
some influential persons offered to procure Bailly a title of nobility
and a decoration. This time the philosopher flatly refused, saying, in
answer to the earnest negotiators: "I thank you, but he who has the
honour of belonging to the three principal academies of France is
sufficiently decorated, sufficiently noble in the eyes of rational men;
a cordon, or a title, could add nothing to him."
The first secretary of the Academy of Sciences had, some years before,
acted as Bailly did. Only he gave his refusal in such strong terms, that
I could not easily believe them to have been written by the timid pen of
Fontenelle, if I did not find them in a perfectly authentic document, in
which he says: "Of all the titles in this world, I have never had any
but of one sort, the titles of Academician, and they have not been
profaned by an admixture of any others, more worldly and more
ostentatious."
Bailly married, in November, 1787, an intimate friend of his mother's,
already a widow, only two years younger than himself. Madame Bailly, a
distant relation of the author of the _Marseillaise_, had an attachment
for her husband that bordered on adoration. She lavished on him the most
tender and affectionate attention. The success that Madame Bailly might
have had in the fashionable world by her beauty, her grace, by her
ineffable goodness, did not tempt her. She lived in almost absolute
retirement, even when the learned academician was most in society. The
Mayor's wife appeared only at one public ceremony: the day of the
benediction of the colours of the sixty battalions of the National Guard
by the Archbishop of Paris, she accompanied Madame de Lafayette to the
Cathedral. She said: "My husband's duty is to show himself in public
wherever there is any good to be done, or sound advice to be given; mine
is to remain at home." This rare retiring and respectable conduct did
not disarm some hideous pamphleteers. Their impudent sarcasms were
continually attacking the modest wife on her domestic hearth, and
troubling her peace of mind. In their logic of the tavern they fancied
that an elegant and handsome woman, who avoided society, could not fail
to be ignorant and stupid. Thence arose a thousand imaginary stories,
ridiculous both as to their matter and form, thrown out daily to the
public, more, indeed, to offend and disgust the upright magistrate than
to humble his companion.
The axe that ended our colleague's life, with the same stroke, and
almost as completely, crushed in Madame Bailly, after so many poignant
agitations and unexampled misfortunes, all that was left of strength of
mind and power of intellect. A strange incident also aggravated the
sadness of Madame Bailly's situation. On a day of trouble, during her
husband's lifetime, she had placed the assignats resulting from the sale
of their house at Chaillot, amounting to about thirty thousand francs,
in the wadding of a dress. The enfeebled memory of the unfortunate widow
did not recall to her the existence of this treasure, even in the time
of her greatest distress. When the age of the material which had
secreted them began to reveal them to daylight, they were no longer of
any value.
The widow of the author of one of the best works of the age, of the
learned member of our three great academies, of the first President of
the National Assembly, of the first Mayor of Paris, found herself thus
reduced, by an unheard-of turn of fortune, to implore help from public
pity. It was the geometer Cousin, member of this academy, who by his
incessant solicitations got Madame Bailly's name inserted at the Board
of Charity in his arrondissement. The support was distributed in kind.
Cousin used to receive the articles at the Hôtel de Ville, where he was
a Municipal Councillor, and carried them himself to the street de la
Sourdière. It was, in short, in the street de la Sourdière that Madame
Bailly had obtained two rooms gratis, in the house of a compassionate
person, whose name I very much regret not having learnt. Does it not
appear to you, Gentlemen, that the academician Cousin, who crossed the
whole of Paris, with the bread under his arm and the meat and the
candle, intended for the unfortunate widow of an illustrious colleague,
did himself more honour than if he had come to one of the sittings
bringing in his portfolio the results of some fine scientific research?
Such noble actions are certainly worth good "Papers."
Affairs proceeded thus up to the revolution of the 18th Brumaire. On the
21st, the public criers were announcing everywhere, even in the street
de la Sourdière, that General Bonaparte was Consul, and M. de Laplace
Minister of the Interior. This name, so well known by the respectable
widow, reached even the room that she inhabited, and caused her some
emotion. That same evening, the new minister (this was a noble
beginning, Gentlemen) asked for a pension of 2000 francs for Madame
Bailly. The Consul granted the demand, adding to it this express
condition, that the first half year should be paid in advance, and
immediately. Early on the 22d, a carriage stopped in the street de la
Sourdière; Madame de Laplace descends from it, carrying in her hand a
purse filled with gold. She rushed to the staircase, runs to the humble
abode, that had now for several years witnessed irremediable sorrow and
severe misery; Madame Bailly was at the window: "My dear friend, what
are you doing there so early?" exclaimed the wife of the minister.
"Madam," replied the widow, "I heard the public crier yesterday, and I
was expecting you!"
If after having, from a sense of duty, expatiated upon anarchical,
odious, and sanguinary scenes, the historian of our civil discords has
the good fortune to meet on his progress with an incident that gratifies
the mind, raises the soul, and fills the heart with pleasing emotions,
he stops there, Gentlemen, as the African traveller halts in an oasis!
HERSCHEL.
William Herschel, one of the greatest astronomers that ever lived in any
age or country, was born at Hanover, on the 15th of November, 1738. The
name of Herschel has become too illustrious for people to neglect
searching back, up the stream of time, to learn the social position of
the families that have borne it. Yet the just curiosity of the learned
world on this subject has not been entirely satisfied. We only know that
Abraham Herschel, great-grandfather of the astronomer, resided at
Mähren, whence he was expelled on account of his strong attachment to
the Protestant faith; that Abraham's son Isaac was a farmer in the
vicinity of Leipzig; that Isaac's eldest son, Jacob Herschel, resisted
his father's earnest desire to see him devote himself to agriculture,
that he determined on being a musician, and settled at Hanover.
Jacob Herschel, father of William, the astronomer, was an eminent
musician; nor was he less remarkable for the good qualities of his heart
and of his mind. His very limited means did not enable him to bestow a
complete education on his family, consisting of six boys and four girls.
But at least, by his care, his ten children all became excellent
musicians. The eldest, Jacob, even acquired a rare degree of ability,
which procured for him the appointment of Master of the Band in a
Hanoverian regiment, which he accompanied to England. The third son,
William, remained under his father's roof. Without neglecting the fine
arts, he took lessons in the French language, and devoted himself to the
study of metaphysics, for which he retained a taste to his latest day.
In 1759, William Herschel, then about twenty-one years old, went over to
England, not with his father, as has been erroneously published, but
with his brother Jacob, whose connections in that country seemed likely
to favour the young man's opening prospects in life. Still, neither
London nor the country towns afforded him any resource in the beginning,
and the first two or three years after his expatriation were marked by
some cruel privations, which, however, were nobly endured. A fortunate
chance finally raised the poor Hanoverian to a better position; Lord
Durham engaged him as Master of the Band in an English regiment which
was quartered on the borders of Scotland. From this moment the musician
Herschel acquired a reputation that spread gradually, and in the year
1765 he was appointed organist at Halifax (Yorkshire). The emoluments of
this situation, together with giving private lessons both in the town
and the country around, procured a degree of comfort for the young
William. He availed himself of it to remedy, or rather to complete, his
early education. It was then that he learnt Latin and Italian, though
without any other help than a grammar and a dictionary. It was then also
that he taught himself something of Greek. So great was the desire for
knowledge with which he was inspired while residing at Halifax, that
Herschel found means to continue his hard philological exercises, and at
the same time to study deeply the learned but very obscure mathematical
work on the theory of music by R. Smith. This treatise, either
explicitly or implicitly, supposed the reader to possess some knowledge
of algebra and of geometry, which Herschel did not possess, but of which
he made himself master in a very short time.
In 1766, Herschel obtained the appointment of organist to the Octagon
Chapel at Bath. This was a more lucrative post than that of Halifax, but
new obligations also devolved on the able pianist. He had to play
incessantly either at the Oratorios, or in the rooms at the baths, at
the theatre, and in the public concerts. Then, being immersed in the
most fashionable circle in England, Herschel could no longer refuse the
numerous pupils who wished to be instructed in his school. It is
difficult to imagine how, among so many duties, so many distractions of
various kinds, Herschel could continue so many studies, which already at
Halifax had required in him so much resolution, so much perseverance,
and a very uncommon degree of talent. We have already seen that it was
by music that Herschel was led to mathematics; mathematics in their turn
led him to optics, the principal and fertile source of his illustrious
career. The hour finally struck, when his theoretic knowledge was to
guide the young musician into a laborious application of principles
quite foreign to his habits; and the brilliant success of which, as well
as their excessive hardihood, will excite reasonable astonishment.
A telescope, a simple telescope, only two English feet in length, falls
into the hands of Herschel during his residence at Bath. This
instrument, however imperfect, shows him a multitude of stars in the sky
that the naked eye cannot discern; shows him also some of the known
objects, but now under their true dimensions; reveals forms to him that
the richest imaginations of antiquity had never suspected. Herschel is
transported with enthusiasm. He will, without delay, have a similar
instrument but of larger dimensions. The answer from London is delayed
for some days: these few days appear as many centuries to him. When the
answer arrives, the price that the optician demands proves to be much
beyond the pecuniary resources of a mere organist. To any other man this
would have been a clap of thunder. This unexpected difficulty on the
contrary, inspired Herschel with fresh energy; he cannot buy a
telescope, then he will construct one with his own hands. The musician
of the Octagon Chapel rushes immediately into a multitude of
experiments, on metallic alloys that reflect light with the greatest
intensity, on the means of giving the parabolic figure to the mirrors,
on the causes that in the operation of polishing affect the regularity
of the figure, &c. So rare a degree of perseverance at last receives its
reward. In 1774 Herschel has the happiness of being able to examine the
heavens with a Newtonian telescope of five English feet focus, entirely
made by himself. This success tempts him to undertake still more
difficult enterprises. Other telescopes of seven, of eight, of ten, and
even of twenty feet focal distance, crown his efforts. As if to answer
in advance those critics who would have accused him of a superfluity of
apparatus, of unnecessary luxury, in the large size of the new
instruments, and his extreme minutiæ in their execution, Nature granted
to the astronomical musician, on the 13th of March 1781, the unheard-of
honour of commencing his career of observation with the discovery of a
new planet, situated on the confines of our solar system. Dating from
that moment, Herschel's reputation, no longer in his character of
musician, but as a constructor of telescopes and as an astronomer,
spread throughout the world. The King, George III., a great lover of
science, and much inclined besides to protect and patronize both men and
things of Hanoverian origin, had Herschel presented to him; he was
charmed with the simple yet lucid and modest account that he gave of his
repeated endeavours; he caught a glimpse of the glory that so
penetrating an observer might reflect on his reign, ensured to him a
pension of 300 guineas a year, and moreover a residence near Windsor
Castle, first at Clay Hall and then at Slough. The visions of George
III. were completely realized. We may confidently assert, relative to
the little house and garden of Slough, that it is the spot of all the
world where the greatest number of discoveries have been made. The name
of that village will never perish; science will transmit it religiously
to our latest posterity.
I will avail myself of this opportunity to rectify a mistake, of which
ignorance and idleness wish to make a triumphant handle, or, at all
events, to wield in their cause as an irresistible justification. It has
been repeated to satiety, that at the time when Herschel entered on his
astronomical career he knew nothing of mathematics. But I have already
said, that during his residence at Bath, the organist of the Octagon
Chapel had familiarized himself with the principles of geometry and
algebra; and a still more positive proof of this is, that a difficult
question on the vibration of strings loaded with small weights had been
proposed for discussion in 1779: Herschel undertook to solve it, and his
dissertation was inserted in several scientific collections of the year
1780.
The anecdotic life of Herschel, however, is now closed. The great
astronomer will not quit his observatory any more, except to go and
submit the sublime results of his laborious vigils to the Royal Society
of London. These results are contained in his memoirs; they constitute
one of the principal riches of the celebrated collection known under the
title of _Philosophical Transactions_.
Herschel belonged to the principal Academies of Europe, and about 1816
he was named Knight of the Guelphic order of Hanover. According to the
English habit, from the time of that nomination the title of Sir William
took the place, in all this illustrious astronomer's memoirs, already
honoured with so much celebrity, of the former appellation of Doctor
William. Herschel had been named a Doctor (of laws) in the University of
Oxford in 1786. This dignity, by special favour, was conferred on him
without any of the obligatory formalities of examination, disputation,
or pecuniary contribution, usual in that learned corporation.
I should wound the elevated sentiments that Herschel professed all his
life, if I were not here to mention two indefatigable assistants that
this fortunate astronomer found in his own family. The one was Alexander
Herschel, endowed with a remarkable talent for mechanism, always at his
brother's orders, and who enabled him to realize without delay any ideas
that he had conceived;[15] the other was Miss Caroline Herschel, who
deserves a still more particular and detailed mention.
Miss Caroline Lucretia Herschel went to England as soon as her brother
became special astronomer to the king. She received the appellation
there of Assistant Astronomer, with a moderate salary. From that moment
she unreservedly devoted herself to the service of her brother, happy
in contributing night and day to his rapidly increasing scientific
reputation. Miss Caroline shared in all the night-watches of her
brother, with her eye constantly on the clock, and the pencil in her
hand; she made all the calculations without exception; she made three or
four copies of all the observations in separate registers; coördinated,
classed, and analyzed them. If the scientific world saw with
astonishment how Herschel's works succeeded each other with unexampled
rapidity during so many years, they were specially indebted for it to
the ardour of Miss Caroline. Astronomy, moreover, has been directly
enriched by several comets through this excellent and respectable lady.
After the death of her illustrious brother, Miss Caroline retired to
Hanover, to the house of Jahn Dietrich Herschel, a musician of high
reputation, and the only surviving brother of the astronomer.
William Herschel died without pain on the 23d of August 1822, aged
eighty-three. Good fortune and glory never altered in him the fund of
infantine candour, inexhaustible benevolence, and sweetness of
character, with which nature had endowed him. He preserved to the last
both his brightness of mind and vigour of intellect. For some years
Herschel enjoyed with delight the distinguished success of his only
son,[16] Sir John Herschel. At his last hour he sunk to rest with the
pleasing conviction that his beloved son, heir of a great name, would
not allow it to fall into oblivion, but adorn it with fresh lustre, and
that great discoveries would honour his career also. No prediction of
the illustrious astronomer has been more completely verified.
The English journals gave an account of the means adopted by the family
of William Herschel, for preserving the remains of the great telescope
of thirty-nine English feet (twelve metres) constructed by that
celebrated astronomer.
The metal tube of the instrument carrying at one end the recently
cleaned mirror of four feet ten inches in diameter, has been placed
horizontally in the meridian line, on solid piers of masonry, in the
midst of the circle, where formerly stood the mechanism requisite for
manoeuvring the telescope. The first of January 1840, Sir John
Herschel, his wife, their children, seven in number, and some old family
servants, assembled at Slough. Exactly at noon, the party walked several
times in procession round the instrument; they then entered the tube of
the telescope, seated themselves on benches that had been prepared for
the purpose, and sung a requiem, with English words composed by Sir John
Herschel himself. After their exit, the illustrious family ranged
themselves around the great tube, the opening of which was then
hermetically sealed. The day concluded with a party of intimate friends.
I know not whether those persons who will only appreciate things from
the peculiar point of view from which they have been accustomed to look,
may think there was something strange in several of the details of the
ceremony that I have just described. I affirm at least that the whole
world will applaud the pious feeling which actuated Sir John Herschel;
and that all the friends of science will thank him for having
consecrated the humble garden where his father achieved such immortal
labours, by a monument more expressive in its simplicity than pyramids
or statues.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] When age and infirmities obliged Alexander Herschel to
give up his profession as a musician, he quitted Bath, and
returned to Hanover, very generously provided by Sir William
with a comfortable independence for life.