Frederick William Herschel was born on the 15th of November 1738.  Like his father, he displayed an innate musical ability, which was sedulously cultivated and constantly developed; while his general mental training was left to the care of the master of the garrison-school.  Those who are gifted with a love and a capacity for music sometimes show to little advantage in other pursuits; but such was not the case with William Herschel, who progressed so rapidly in all his studies that the pupil soon outstripped the teacher.  Although, we are told, four years younger than his brother Jacob, the two began French together, and William mastered the language in half the time occupied by his senior.  His leisure time out of school, when not given up to practice on the oboe and the violin, was devoted to the acquisition, of Latin and arithmetic.

His father in 1743 was present at the battle of Dettingen; and the exposure consequent on a night spent on the rain-soaked battle-field afflicted him with an asthmatic complaint and a partial paralysis of the limbs, which darkened for years the musician’s peaceful household.  He himself, however, was greatly cheered by the musical proficiency of his two sons, and the intellectual refinement of Frederick William.  “My brothers,” says Caroline Herschel, “were often introduced as solo performers and assistants in the orchestra of the court; and I remember that I was frequently prevented”—­she was then a child about five years old—­“from going to sleep by the lively criticism on music on [their] coming from a concert, or conversations on philosophical subjects, which lasted frequently till morning, in which my father was a lively partaker, and assistant of my brother William by contriving self-made instruments.”  She adds that she often kept herself awake in order to listen to their animating remarks, feeling inexpressibly happy in their happiness,—­an indication of that devoted and unselfish affection which afterwards consecrated her whole life.  But, generally, their conversation branched out into philosophical subjects; and father and son argued with so much fervour, that the fond mother’s interference became necessary,—­the immortal names of Leibnitz, Newton, and Euler ringing with a clarion-like peal that boded ill for the repose of the younger members of the family.  “But it seems,” says Caroline, “that on the brothers retiring to their own room, where they shared the same bed, my brother William had still a great deal to say; and frequently it happened that, when he stopped for an assent or a reply, he found his hearer had gone to sleep; and I suppose it was not till then that he bethought himself to do the same.  The recollection of these happy scenes confirms me in the belief that, had my brother William not then been interrupted in his philosophical pursuits, we should have had much earlier proofs of his inventive genius.  My father,” she continues, “was a great admirer of astronomy, and had some knowledge