Caroline Herschel - by Sue Purkiss

 I've been interested for some time in the network of artists and scientists who coalesced around the wealthy, charismatic and imposing figure of Sir Joseph Banks. Banks launched his career (which was initially as a botanist) first by voyaging to Newfoundland and Labrador to study their natural history, and then by travelling with Captain Cook, in 1768, to explore the southern seas. He later became a friend of King George 111, was instrumental in developing the botanic gardens at Kew, and, among many other interests and activities, became the President of the Royal Society (the national academy for the advancement of science).

He was very good at spotting and encouraging talent. And one of the young scientists who came to his notice was William Herschel. William was an astronomer - as was his younger sister, Caroline.

William came from a family of musicians in Hanover. He moved to England in 1757 and initially worked as a musician, first in the north and then in Bath, where he became organist at the Octagon Chapel and Director of Public Concerts. It was during this time that he invited his younger sister Caroline to come and live with him - his brother Alexander also shared the house, which is now the Herschel Museum of Astronomy.

A silhouette of Caroline as a young woman.

The Herschels' house, now a museum. 

Caroline was seventeen when she arrived in England. She had been very close to William and must have been devastated when he left home - particularly as her mother, who really only had time for her oldest son, Jacob, neglected the child. Caroline was treated as a servant: she contracted typhoid as a child, as a result of which her growth was stunted; she was tiny, just a little over four feet tall. But things took a turn for the better when William came back to Hanover and rescued her. He taught her to play music and to sing - so well that she was offered a post with an opera company in Birmingham.

But by this time, Caroline and William were both becoming fascinated with astronomy. (I've noticed that there's often a connection between music and science, though I don't know enough about either to understand why this is.) William learnt how to grind and polish lenses, and built increasingly large telescopes which he used to sweep the night sky. Caroline was initially his recorder and note taker, but she progressed to making her own observations.

The garden behind the museum.

One day, a friend of Banks named William Watson noticed Herschel in the street in Bath, making observations with his telescope. Intrigued, he fell into conversation with the astronomer, and later brought him to the notice of both Banks and the Astronomer Royal, Neville Maskelyne. Not long after that, Herschel discovered a new planet, which was eventually named Uranus. This caused a great stir, not just in Britain, but further afield on the continenet too. Meanwhile Caroline was making her own discoveries in the night sky: she specialised in finding comets.

In 1782, they both moved to Datchet, and initially William, but later Caroline, came to be employed as astronomers by the King. Caroline was the first woman in England to be honoured with a government position, and the first to be given a salary as an astronomer. Imagine, for a child neglected by her own mother to have achieved so much, and in a country where she arrived not knowing a word of English - it must have felt wonderful!

But there was a shadow over this period of her life. Hitherto, Caroline had worked closely with her beloved brother, and had managed his house for him too. But now, William decided to marry - and everything had to change. Fortunately, Caroline's salary, though not large, allowed her to be independent. But these were difficult years for her; so much so that she later destroyed her journals for this period.

Caroline in later life.

But eventually, she became reconciled to the marriage, and to William's wife, Mary - and she delighted in their son, John, with whom she later collaborated when he too became an astronomer. She lived a very long life, dying at ninety eight.

The Herschels' house in Bath is now the Herschel Museum of Astronomy, and I went to visit it a few months ago. It's not that easy to find - it doesn't really advertise its presence - but it's well worth seeking out: it's quite charming, and really gives you a sense of what life was like there for Caroline and her brother. Somehow, I feel very fond of Caroline. She must have been a remarkable woman to have achieved so much, after such a difficult start, and in a time when high achievers were generally men.

Stargazers: Sue Purkiss

Last week, I sat down happily to watch Stargazing Live, with Dara O’Briain and Professor Brian Cox. I’ve been a fan of this programme since it started, and it was lovely to see the lads again, along with Liz Bonnin and the usual assortment of enthusiastic and incredibly knowledgeable astronomers, physicists etc. The music starts, the vast telescope looms above the studio, and off we go, raring to see what new gadgets, discoveries, and fantastic photographs there will be this season.

I can’t tell a lie, though  – about twenty minutes in (Well, okay, more like five!) it occurred to me that at best I was probably understanding one word in ten. Two or three years ago, when the series began, I’d swear I was nearly grasping – ooh, maybe three in ten. So what’s happened? Well, one possibility, based on the available evidence, would be that I’m getting stupider. My preferred theory, however, is that it’s become clear that there’s a sizable audience out there that, unlike me, actually does understand an awful lot. Look at the kit some of them have! Telescopes and cameras powerful enough to discover – yes, actually to discover – hitherto unknown stars and galaxies, and what’s more, to take stunning pictures of them.

So Professor Brian doesn't need any longer to explain things in words of one syllable, illustrating concepts with a piece of string, three oranges and a heap of pebbles. No, he can talk to a large part of his audience in language he can be confident they’ll understand.

But even though I don’t (understand, that is), I’m still fascinated by astronomy, just as I always have been. Did anyone do that thing, at Freshers’ Week  in your first term at university, where you joined loads of clubs and then never went to any of them? Well, I did, and the first one was the Astronomical Society. Why on earth (sorry) did I never go to any of their meetings? So what if, at school, I was to science as two like poles of a magnet are to each other? (See, I did learn something in science.) Maybe if I'd gone. I'd have discovered that despite all appearances to the contrary, I did have an aptitude for science. Or maybe not.

Caroline Herschel in 1829

There used not to be such a divide between scientists and artists. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, they happily rubbed shoulders: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was, in a sense, born when, as a girl of 14, she went to hear lectures on chemistry given by Humphrey Davy. Davy himself wrote poetry, and was a friend of Coleridge and Southey. Keats studied medicine for two years. And you could switch. William Herschel - born in Germany - began as a musician, but became a self-taught astronomer who shook up the scientific world by, among other things, discovering the seventh planet, Uranus. From his observations, he conjectured that the universe was not unchanging and static, as had been hitherto believed, but was continually evolving. His younger sister, Caroline, escaped what threatened to be a lifetime of drudgery looking after her mother and her eldest brother Jacob, when she came to live with William in England. She began helping him with his observations, and eventually became an astronomer in her own right, achieving fame in 1786 when she discovered a new comet. A subject for a future History Girls anthology, perhaps!

So if Caroline could do all that, maybe I shouldn't give up so easily. Perhaps I'll just give Stargazing Live another go on the i-player, only this time I'll really really concentrate.

To read more about the Herschels and their circle, go to Richard Holmes' fascinating book, The Age of Wonder.