sonnet. His friend C. C. Clarke had put before him Chapman’s “paraphrase” of Homer, and they sat up till daylight to read it, “Keats shouting with delight as some passage of especial energy struck his imagination. At ten o’clock the next morning Mr. Clarke found the sonnet on his breakfast-table.”

Sonnet XI
On first looking into Chapman’s “Homer”

Comparison with discovery of Uranus.Let us then, as our first example of the way in which astronomical discoveries are made, turn to the discovery of the planet Uranus, and see how it corresponds with the popular conception as voiced by Keats. In one respect his words are true to the life or the letter. If ever there was a “watcher of the skies,” William Herschel was entitled to the name. It was his custom to watch them the whole night through, from the earliest possible moment to daybreak; and the fruits of his labours were many and various almost beyond belief. But did the planet “swim into his ken”? Let us turn to the original announcement of his discovery as given in the Philosophical Transactions for 1781.

At first sight this seems to be the wrong reference, for it speaks of a new comet, not a new planet. But it is indeed of Uranus that Herschel is speaking; and so little did he realise the full magnitude of his discovery at once, that he announced it as that of a comet; and a comet the object was called for some months. Attempts were made to calculate its orbit as a comet, and broke down; and it was only after much work of this kind had been done that the real nature of the object began to be suspected. But far more striking than this misconception is the display of skill necessary to detect any peculiarity in the object at all. Among a number of stars one seemed somewhat exceptional in size, but the difference was only just sufficient to awaken suspicion in a keen-eyed Herschel.Other observers would not have found it at all. Would any other observer have noticed the difference at all? Certainly several good observers had looked at the object before, and looked at it with the care necessary to record its position, without noting any peculiarity. Their observations were recovered subsequently and used to fix the orbit of the new planet more accurately. I shall remind you in the next chapter that Uranus had been observed in this way no less than seventeen times by first-rate observers without exciting their attention to anything remarkable. The first occasion was in 1690, nearly a century before Herschel’s grand discovery, and these chance observations, which lay so long unnoticed as in some way erroneous, subsequently proved to be of the utmost value in fixing the orbit of the new planet. But there is even more striking testimony than this to the exceptional nature of Herschel’s achievement. It is a common experience in astronomy that an observer may fail to notice in a general scrutiny some phenomenon which he can see perfectly well when his attention is directed to it: when a man has made a discovery and others are told what to look for, they often see it so easily that they are filled with amazement and chagrin that they never saw it before. Not so in the case of Uranus. At least two great astronomers, Lalande and Messier, have left on record their astonishment that Herschel could differentiate it from an ordinary star at all; for even when instructed where to look and what to look for, they had the greatest difficulty in finding it. I give a translation of Messier’s words, which Herschel records in the paper already quoted announcing the discovery:—

We cannot, therefore, fit the facts to Keats’ version of them. The planet did not majestically reveal itself to a merely passive observer: rather did it, assuming the disguise of an ordinary star, evade detection to the utmost of its power; so that the keenest eye,