Maria Mitchell: Life, Letters, and Journals - Maria Mitchell
"Yes; but my home is my children's home as well as mine," said Mr.
Mitchell, "and I propose that they shall not be obliged to go away from
home for their pleasures. I don't play on the piano."
It so happened that Mr. Mitchell held the property of the "monthly
meeting" in his hands at the time, and it was a very improper thing for
the accredited agent of the society to be "under dealings," as Mr.
Mitchell gently suggested.
This the Friend had not thought of, and so he said, "Well, William,
perhaps we'd better say no more about it."
When the father came home after this interview he could not keep it to
himself. If it had been the mother who was interviewed she would have
kept it a profound secret,--because she would not have liked to have her
children get any fun out of the proceedings of the old Friend. But Mr.
Mitchell told the story in his quiet way, the daughters enjoyed it, and
declared that the piano was placed upon a firm foothold by this
proceeding. The news spread abroad, and several other young Quaker girls
eagerly seized the occasion to gratify their musical longings in the
same direction. [Footnote: It is pleasant to note that this objection to
music among Friends is a thing of the past, and that the Friends' School
at Providence, R.I., which is under the control of the "New England
Yearly Meeting of Friends," has music in its regular curriculum.]
Few women with scientific tastes had the advantages which surrounded
Miss Mitchell in her own home. Her father was acquainted with the most
prominent scientific men in the country, and in his hospitable home at
Nantucket she met many persons of distinction in literature and science.
She cared but little for general society, and had always to be coaxed to
go into company. Later in life, however, she was much more socially
inclined, and took pleasure in making and receiving visits. She could
neither dance nor sing, but in all amusements which require quickness
and a ready wit she was very happy. She was very fond of children, and
knew how to amuse them and to take care of them. As she had half a dozen
younger brothers and sisters, she had ample opportunity to make herself
useful.
She was a capital story-teller, and always had a story on hand to divert
a wayward child, or to soothe the little sister who was lying awake, and
afraid of the dark. She wrote a great many little stories, printed them
with a pen, and bound them in pretty covers. Most of them were destroyed
long ago.
Maria took her part in all the household work. She knew how to do
everything that has to be done in a large family where but one servant
is kept, and she did everything thoroughly. If she swept a room it
became clean. She might not rearrange the different articles of
furniture in the most artistic manner, but everything would be clean,
and there would be nothing left crooked. If a chair was to be placed, it
would be parallel to something; she was exceedingly sensitive to a line
out of the perpendicular, and could detect the slightest deviation from
that rule. She had also a sensitive eye in the matter of color, and felt
any lack of harmony in the colors worn by those about her.
Maria was always ready to "bear the brunt," and could at any time be
coaxed by the younger children to do the things which they found
difficult or disagreeable.
The two youngest children in the family were delicate, and the special
care of the youngest sister devolved upon Maria, who knew how to be a
good nurse as well as a good playfellow. She was especially careful of a
timid child; she herself was timid, and, throughout her life, could
never witness a thunder-storm with any calmness.
On one of those occasions so common in an American household, when the
one servant suddenly takes her leave, or is summarily dismissed, Miss
Mitchell describes her part of the family duties:
"Oct. 21, 1854. This morning I arose at six, having been half asleep
only for some hours, fearing that I might not be up in time to get
breakfast, a task which I had volunteered to do the preceding evening.
It was but half light, and I made a hasty toilet. I made a fire very
quickly, prepared the coffee, baked the graham bread, toasted white
bread, trimmed the solar lamp, and made another fire in the dining-room
before seven o'clock.
"I always thought that servant-girls had an easy time of it, and I still
think so. I really found an hour too long for all this, and when I rang
the bell at seven for breakfast I had been waiting fifteen minutes for
the clock to strike.
"I went to the Atheneum at 9.30, and having decided that I would take
the Newark and Cambridge places of the comet, and work them up, I did
so, getting to the three equations before I went home to dinner at
12.30. I omitted the corrections of parallax and aberrations, not
intending to get more than a rough approximation. I find to my sorrow
that they do not agree with those from my own observations. I shall look
over them again next week.
"At noon I ran around and did up several errands, dined, and was back
again at my post by 1.30. Then I looked over my morning's work,--I can
find no mistake. I have worn myself thin trying to find out about this
comet, and I know very little now in the matter.
"I saw, in looking over Cooper, elements of a comet of 1825 which
resemble what I get out for this, from my own observations, but I cannot
rely upon my own.
"I saw also, to-day, in the 'Monthly Notices,' a plan for measuring the
light of stars by degrees of illumination,--an idea which had occurred
to me long ago, but which I have not practised.
"October 23. Yesterday I was again reminded of the remark which Mrs.
Stowe makes about the variety of occupations which an American woman
pursues.
"She says it is this, added to the cares and anxieties, which keeps them
so much behind the daughters of England in personal beauty.
"And to-day I was amused at reading that one of her party objected to
the introduction of waxed floors into American housekeeping, because she
could seem to see herself down on her knees doing the waxing.
"But of yesterday. I was up before six, made the fire in the kitchen,
and made coffee. Then I set the table in the dining-room, and made the
fire there. Toasted bread and trimmed lamps. Rang the breakfast bell at
seven. After breakfast, made my bed, and 'put up' the room. Then I came
down to the Atheneum and looked over my comet computations till noon.
Before dinner I did some tatting, and made seven button-holes for K. I
dressed and then dined. Came back again to the Atheneum at 1.30, and
looked over another set of computations, which took me until four
o'clock. I was pretty tired by that time, and rested by reading
'Cosmos.' Lizzie E. came in, and I gossiped for half an hour. I went
home to tea, and that over, I made a loaf of bread. Then I went up to my
room and read through (partly writing) two exercises in German, which
took me thirty-five minutes.
"It was stormy, and I had no observing to do, so I sat down to my
tatting. Lizzie E. came in and I took a new lesson in tatting, so as to
make the pearl-edged. I made about half a yard during the evening. At a
little after nine I went home with Lizzie, and carried a letter to the
post-office. I had kept steadily at work for sixteen hours when I went
to bed."
CHAPTER II
1847-1854
MISS MITCHELL'S COMET--EXTRACTS FROM DIARY--THE COMET
Miss Mitchell spent every clear evening on the house-top "sweeping" the
heavens.
No matter how many guests there might be in the parlor, Miss Mitchell
would slip out, don her regimentals as she called them, and, lantern in
hand, mount to the roof.
On the evening of Oct. 1, 1847, there was a party of invited guests at
the Mitchell home. As usual, Maria slipped out, ran up to the telescope,
and soon returned to the parlor and told her father that she thought she
saw a comet. Mr. Mitchell hurried upstairs, stationed himself at the
telescope, and as soon as he looked at the object pointed out by his
daughter declared it to be a comet. Miss Mitchell, with her usual
caution, advised him to say nothing about it until they had observed it
long enough to be tolerably sure. But Mr. Mitchell immediately wrote to
Professor Bond, at Cambridge, announcing the discovery. On account of
stormy weather, the mails did not leave Nantucket until October 3.
Frederick VI., King of Denmark, had offered, Dec. 17, 1831, a gold medal
of the value of twenty ducats to the first discoverer of a telescopic
comet. The regulations, as revised and amended, were republished, in
April, 1840, in the "Astronomische Nachrichten."
When this comet was discovered, the king who had offered the medal was
dead. The son, Frederick VII., who had succeeded him, had not the
interest in science which belonged to his father, but he was prevailed
upon to carry out his father's designs in this particular case.
The same comet had been seen by Father de Vico at Rome, on October 3, at
7.30 P.M., and this fact was immediately communicated by him to
Professor Schumacher, at Altona. On the 7th of October, at 9.20 P.M.,
the comet was observed by Mr. W.R. Dawes, at Kent, England, and on the
11th it was seen by Madame Ruemker, the wife of the director of the
observatory at Hamburg.
The following letter from the younger Bond will show the cordial
relations existing between the observatory at Cambridge and the smaller
station at Nantucket:
CAMBRIDGE, Oct. 20, 1847.
DEAR MARIA: There! I think that is a very amiable beginning,
considering the way in which I have been treated by you! If you
are going to find any more comets, can you not wait till they
are announced by the proper authorities? At least, don't kidnap
another such as this last was.
If my object were to make you fear and tremble, I should tell
you that on the evening of the 30th I was sweeping within a few
degrees of your prize. I merely throw out the hint for what it
is worth.
It has been very interesting to watch the motion of this comet
among the stars with the great refractor; we could almost see it
move.
An account of its passage over the star mentioned by your father
when he was here, would make an interesting notice for one of
the foreign journals, which we would readily forward.... [Here
follow Mr. Bond's observations.]
Respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
G. P. BOND.
Hon. Edward Everett, who at that time was president of Harvard College,
took a great interest in the matter, and immediately opened a
correspondence with the proper authorities, and sent a notice of the
discovery to the "Astronomische Nachrichten."
The priority of Miss Mitchell's discovery was immediately admitted
throughout Europe.
The King of Denmark very promptly referred the matter to Professor
Schumacher, who reported in favor of granting the medal to Miss
Mitchell, and the medal was duly struck off and forwarded to Mr.
Everett.
Among European astronomers who urged Miss Mitchell's claim was Admiral
Smyth, whom she knew through his "Celestial Cycle," and who later, on
her visit to England, became a warm personal friend. Madame Ruemker,
also, sent congratulations.
Mr. Everett announced the receipt of the medal to Miss Mitchell in the
following letter:
CAMBRIDGE, March 29, 1849.
MY DEAR MISS MITCHELL: I have the pleasure to inform you that
your medal arrived by the last steamer; it reached me by mail,
yesterday afternoon.
I went to Boston this morning, hoping to find you at the Adams
House, to put it into your own hand.
As your return to Nantucket prevented this, I, of course, retain
it, subject to your orders, not liking to take the risk again of
its transmission by mail.
Having it in this way in my hand, I have taken the liberty to
show it to some friends, such as W.C. Bond, Professor Peirce,
the editors of the "Transcript," and the members of my
family,--which I hope you will pardon.
I remain, my dear Miss Mitchell, with great regard,
Very faithfully yours,
EDWARD EVERETT.[Footnote: See Appendix.]
In 1848 Miss Mitchell was elected to membership by the "American Academy
of Arts and Sciences," unanimously; she was the first and only woman
ever admitted. In the diploma the printed word "Fellow" is erased, and
the words "Honorary Member" inserted by Dr. Asa Gray, who signed the
document as secretary. Some years later, however, her name is found in
the list of Fellows of this Academy, also of the American Institute and
of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. For many
years she attended the annual conventions of this last-mentioned
association, in which she took great interest.
The extract below refers to one of these meetings, probably that of
1855:
"August 23. It is really amusing to find one's self lionized in a city
where one has visited quietly for years; to see the doors of fashionable
mansions open wide to receive you, which never opened before. I suspect
that the whole corps of science laughs in its sleeves at the farce.
"The leaders make it pay pretty well. My friend Professor Bache makes
the occasions the opportunities for working sundry little wheels,
pulleys, and levers; the result of all which is that he gets his
enormous appropriations of $400,000 out of Congress, every winter, for
the maintenance of the United States Coast Survey.
"For a few days Science reigns supreme,--we are feted and complimented
to the top of our bent, and although complimenters and complimented must
feel that it is only a sort of theatrical performance, for a few days
and over, one does enjoy acting the part of greatness for a while! I was
tired after three days of it, and glad to take the cars and run away.
"The descent into a commoner was rather sudden. I went alone to Boston,
and when I reached out my free pass, the conductor read it through and
handed it back, saying in a gruff voice, 'It's worth nothing; a dollar
and a quarter to Boston.' Think what a downfall! the night before, and
'One blast upon my bugle horn
Were worth a hundred men!'
Now one man alone was my dependence, and that man looked very much
inclined to put me out of the car for attempting to pass a ticket that
in his eyes was valueless. Of course I took it quietly, and paid the
money, merely remarking, 'You will pass a hundred persons on this road
in a few days on these same tickets.'
"When I look back on the paper read at this meeting by Mr. J---- in his
uncouth manner, I think when a man is thoroughly in earnest, how
careless he is of mere _words!_"
In 1849 Miss Mitchell was asked by the late Admiral Davis, who had just
taken charge of the American Nautical Almanac, to act as computer for
that work,--a proposition to which she gladly assented, and for nineteen
years she held that position in addition to her other duties. This, of
course, made a very desirable increase to her income, but not
necessarily to her expenses. The tables of the planet Venus were
assigned to her. In this year, too, she was employed by Professor Bache,
of the United States Coast Survey, in the work of an astronomical party
at Mount Independence, Maine.
"1853. I was told that Miss Dix wished to see me, and I called upon her.
It was dusk, and I did not at once see her; her voice was low, not
particularly sweet, but very gentle. She told me that she had heard
Professor Henry speak of me, and that Professor Henry was one of her
best friends, the truest man she knew. When the lights were brought in I
looked at her. She must be past fifty, she is rather small, dresses
indifferently, has good features in general, but indifferent eyes. She
does not brighten up in countenance in conversing. She is so successful
that I suppose there must be a hidden fire somewhere, for heat is a
motive power, and her cold manners could never move Legislatures. I saw
some outburst of fire when Mrs. Hale's book was spoken of. It seems Mrs.
Hale wrote to her for permission to publish a notice of her, and was
decidedly refused; another letter met with the same answer, yet she
wrote a 'Life' which Miss Dix says is utterly false.
"In her general sympathy for suffering humanity, Miss Dix seems
neglectful of the individual interest. She has no family connection but
a brother, has never had sisters, and she seemed to take little interest
in the persons whom she met. I was surprised at her feeling any desire
to see me. She is not strikingly interesting in conversation, because
she is so grave, so cold, and so quiet. I asked her if she did not
become at times weary and discouraged; and she said, wearied, but not
discouraged, for she had met with nothing but success. There is
evidently a strong will which carries all before it, not like the sweep
of the hurricane, but like the slow, steady, and powerful march of the
molten lava.
"It is sad to see a woman sacrificing the ties of the affections even to
do good. I have no doubt Miss Dix does much good, but a woman needs a
home and the love of other women at least, if she lives without that of
man."
The following entry was made many years after:--
"August, 1871. I have just seen Miss Dix again, having met her only once
for a few minutes in all the eighteen years. She listened to a story of
mine about some girls in need, and then astonished me by an offer she
made me."
"Feb. 15, 1853. I think Dr. Hall [in his 'Life of Mary Ware'] does wrong
when he attempts to encourage the use of the _needle_. It seems to me
that the needle is the chain of woman, and has fettered her more than
the laws of the country.
"Once emancipate her from the 'stitch, stitch, stitch," the industry of
which would be commendable if it served any purpose except the
gratification of her vanity, and she would have time for studies which
would engross as the needle never can. I would as soon put a girl alone
into a closet to meditate as give her only the society of her needle.
The art of sewing, so far as men learn it, is well enough; that is, to
enable a person to _take the stitches_, and, if necessary, to make her
own garments in a strong manner; but the dressmaker should no more be a
universal character than the carpenter. Suppose every man should feel it
is his duty to do his own mechanical work of _all_ kinds, would society
be benefited? would the work be well done? Yet a woman is expected to
know how to do all kinds of sewing, all kinds of cooking, all kinds of
any _woman's_ work, and the consequence is that life is passed in
learning these only, while the universe of truth beyond remains
unentered.
"May 11, 1853. I could not help thinking of Esther [a much-loved cousin
who had recently died] a few evenings since when I was observing. A
meteor flashed upon me suddenly, very bright, very short-lived; it
seemed to me that it was sent for me especially, for it greeted me
almost the first instant I looked up, and was gone in a second,--it was
as fleeting and as beautiful as the smile upon Esther's face the last
time I saw her. I thought when I talked with her about death that,
though she could not come to me visibly, she might be able to influence
my feelings; but it cannot be, for my faith has been weaker than ever
since she died, and my fears have been greater."
A few pages farther on in the diary appears this poem:
"ESTHER
"Living, the hearts of all around
Sought hers as slaves a throne;
Dying, the reason first we found--
The fulness of her own.
"She gave unconsciously the while
A wealth we all might share--
To me the memory of the smile
That last I saw her wear.
"Earth lost from out its meagre store
A bright and precious stone;
Heaven could not be so rich before,
But it has richer grown."
"Sept. 19, 1853. I am surprised to find the verse which I picked up
somewhere and have always admired--
"'Oh, reader, had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
Oh, gentle reader, you would find
A tale in everything'--
belonging to Wordsworth and to one of Wordsworth's simple, I am almost
ready to say _silly_, poems. I am in doubt what to think of Wordsworth.
I should be ashamed of some of his poems if I had written them myself,
and yet there are points of great beauty, and lines which once in the
mind will not leave it.
"Oct. 31, 1853. People have to learn sometimes not only how much the
heart, but how much the head, can bear. My letter came from Cambridge
[the Harvard Observatory], and I had some work to do over. It was a
wearyful job, but by dint of shutting myself up all day I did manage to
get through with it. The good of my travelling showed itself then, when
I was too tired to read, to listen, or to talk; for the beautiful
scenery of the West was with me in the evening, instead of the tedious
columns of logarithms. It is a blessed thing that these pictures keep in
the mind and come out at the needful hour. I did not call them, but they
seemed to come forth as a regulator for my tired brain, as if they had
been set sentinel-like to watch a proper time to appear.
"November, 1853. There is said to be no up or down in creation, but I
think the _world_ must be _low_, for people who keep themselves
constantly before it do a great deal of stooping!
"Dec. 8, 1853. Last night we had the first meeting of the class in
elocution. It was very pleasant, but my deficiency of ear was never more
apparent to myself. We had exercises in the ascending scale, and I
practised after I came home, with the family as audience. H. says my ear
is competent only to vulgar hearing, and I cannot appreciate nice
distinctions.... I am sure that I shall never say that if I had been
properly educated I should have made a singer, a dancer, or a painter--I
should have failed less, perhaps, in the last. ... Coloring I might have
been good in, for I do think my eyes are better than those of any one I
know.
"Feb. 18, 1854. If I should make out a calendar by my feelings of
fatigue, I should say there were six Saturdays in the week and one
Sunday.
"Mr. ---- somewhat ridicules my plan of reading Milton with a view to
his astronomy, but I have found it very pleasant, and have certainly a
juster idea of Milton's variety of greatness than I had before. I have
filled several sheets with my annotations on the 'Paradise Lost,' which
I may find useful if I should ever be obliged to teach, either as a
schoolma'am or a lecturer. [Footnote: This paper has been printed since
Miss Mitchell's death in "Poet-lore," June-July, 1894.]
"March 2, 1854. I 'swept' last night two hours, by three periods. It was
a grand night--not a breath of air, not a fringe of a cloud, all clear,
all beautiful. I really enjoy that kind of work, but my back soon
becomes tired, long before the cold chills me. I saw two nebulae in Leo
with which I was not familiar, and that repaid me for the time. I am
always the better for open-air breathing, and was certainly meant for
the wandering life of the Indian.
"Sept. 12, 1854. I am just through with a summer, and a summer is to me
always a trying ordeal. I have determined not to spend so much time at
the Atheneum another season, but to put some one in my place who shall
see the strange faces and hear the strange talk.
"How much talk there is about religion! Giles [Footnote: Rev. Henry
Giles.] I like the best, for he seems, like myself, to have no settled
views, and to be religious only in feeling. He says he has no piety, but
a great sense of infinity.
"Yesterday I had a Shaker visitor, and to-day a Catholic; and the more I
see and hear, the less do I care about church doctrines. The Catholic, a
priest, I have known as an Atheneum visitor for some time. He talked
to-day, on my asking him some questions, and talked better than I
expected. He is plainly full of intelligence, full of enthusiasm for his
religion, and, I suspect, full of bigotry. I do not believe he will die
a Catholic priest. A young man of his temperament must find it hard to
live without family ties, and I shall expect to hear, if I ever hear of
him again, that some good little Irish girl has made him forget his
vows.
"My visitors, in other respects, have been of the average sort. Four
women have been delighted to make my acquaintance--three men have
thought themselves in the presence of a superior being; one offered me
twenty-five cents because I reached him the key of the museum. One woman
has opened a correspondence with me, and several have told me that they
knew friends of mine; two have spoken of me in small letters to small
newspapers; one said he didn't see me, and one said he did! I have
become hardened to all; neither compliment nor quarter-dollar rouses any
emotion. My fit of humility, which has troubled me all summer, is
shaken, however, by the first cool breeze of autumn and the first walk
taken without perspiration.
"Sept. 22, 1854. On the evening of the 18th, while 'sweeping,' there
came into the field the two nebulae in Ursa Major, which I have known
for many a year, but which to my surprise now appeared to be three. The
upper one, as seen from an inverting telescope, appeared double-headed,
like one near the Dolphin, but much more decided than that, the space
between the two heads being very plainly discernible and subtending a
decided angle. The bright part of this object was clearly the old
nebula--but what was the appendage? Had the nebula suddenly changed? Was
it a comet, or was it merely a very fine night? Father decided at once
for the comet; I hesitated, with my usual cowardice, and forbade his
giving it a notice in the newspaper.