Stargazing Among the Shrubs: William Herschel’s Backyard Astronomy

On This Day
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:

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July 8, 1822

On this day, dear readers, we find ourselves peering into the private diary of one Caroline Herschel, a woman whose gaze often turned skyward, but whose feet remained firmly planted in her brother's garden.

Let us transport ourselves to that fateful summer day, two centuries ago, when Caroline penned these poignant words:

I had a dawn of hope that my brother might regain once more a little strength; for I have a [note] in my almanac of his walking with a firmer step than usual -- above three or four times the distance from the... house to his library in his garden, for the purpose [of gathering and eating] Raspberries with me; but I never saw the like again.

Can you picture it, my fellow horticultural enthusiasts?

The great William Herschel, German-English astronomer and composer, shuffling through his garden with renewed vigor, plucking ripe raspberries alongside his devoted sister. Oh, how the mundane can become magnificent when viewed through the lens of history!

Alas, this moment of vitality was to be fleeting. A mere six weeks later, William Herschel, at the venerable age of eighty-four, would take his final journey into the great unknown. This year marks the bicentenary of his passing, a moment for reflection on a life that quite literally reached for the stars.

But let us not dwell on endings when we can celebrate beginnings!

Cast your mind back forty-one years prior to that raspberry-filled day. On the night of March 13, 1781, William Herschel, armed with nothing more than a homemade 6.2-inch reflecting telescope, made a discovery that would etch his name in the annals of astronomical history.

From the humble confines of his backyard garden, Herschel spotted what he initially believed to be "either a Nebulous star or perhaps a comet." In a delightful display of royal flattery, he christened this celestial body "George" - or more formally, Georgium Sidus (the Georgian Planet) - in honor of his patron, King George III. Alas, even the weight of royal patronage couldn't make this name stick, and George was eventually rechristened Uranus, after the Greek god of the sky.

Imagine, dear readers, the thrill of discovering a planet from one's own garden!

Uranus holds the distinction of being the first - and thus far, only - planet to be spotted from such humble surroundings. One can't help but wonder if the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers or the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze played some small part in inspiring Herschel's celestial explorations.

For those of you with a penchant for historical pilgrimages, I must recommend a visit to the Herschel Museum in Bath.

Housed in the Georgian townhouse at 19 New King Street, where William and Caroline once resided, it offers a glimpse into their world. The garden, where brother and sister spent countless hours gazing at the heavens, still stands - a living testament to the intertwining of terrestrial and celestial pursuits.

And let us not forget young John, William's son, who carried the torch of scientific inquiry into the next generation. A polymath of the highest order, John not only continued his father's astronomical work but also dipped his toes into the verdant world of botany. One can't help but wonder if those childhood days spent in his father's garden, where planets were discovered amidst the pea plants, played a part in nurturing his diverse scientific interests.

As we tend to our own gardens this day, let us take a moment to gaze upward. Who knows what wonders we might discover, nestled between the constellations?

And perhaps, as we pluck a ripe raspberry or two, we might remember Caroline and William Herschel, for whom the garden was not just a place of earthly delights, but a launchpad for cosmic exploration.

William Herschel
William Herschel
William Herschel, oil painting by L. Abbott, 1785
William Herschel, oil painting by L. Abbott, 1785

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