One of the most immediate consequences of the event was the discovery of Herschel himself. The Royal Society made him a Fellow the same year. The University of Oxford dubbed him a doctor; and the King sent for him to bring his telescope and show it at Court. So to London and Windsor he went, taking with him his best telescope. Maskelyne, the then Astronomer-Royal, compared it with the National one at Greenwich, and found Herschel's home-made instrument far the better of the two. He had a stand made after Herschel's pattern, but was so disgusted with his own instrument now that he scarcely thought it worthy of the stand when it was made. At Windsor, George III. was very civil, and Mr. Herschel was in great request to show the ladies of the Court Saturn and other objects of interest. Mr. Herschel exhibited a piece of worldly wisdom under these circumstances, that recalls faintly the behaviour of Tycho Brahé under similar circumstances. The evening when the exhibition was to take place threatened to become cloudy and wet, so Herschel rigged up an artificial Saturn, constructed of card and tissue paper, with a lamp behind it, in the distant wall of a garden; and, when the time came, his new titled friends were regaled with a view of this imitation Saturn through the telescope--the real one not being visible. They went away much pleased. He stayed hovering between Windsor and Greenwich, and uncertain what was to be the outcome of all this regal patronizing. He writes to his sister that he would much rather be back grinding mirrors at Bath. And she writes begging him to come, for his musical pupils were getting impatient. They had to get the better of their impatience, however, for the King ultimately appointed him astronomer or rather telescope-maker to himself, and so Caroline and the whole household were sent for, and established in a small house at Datchet. From being a star-gazing musician, Herschel thus became a practical astronomer. Henceforth he lived in his observatory; only on wet and moonlight nights could he be torn away from it. The day-time he devoted to making his long-contemplated 20-foot telescope. Not yet, however, were all their difficulties removed. The house at Datchet was a tumble-down barn of a place, chosen rather as a workshop and observatory than as a dwelling-house. And the salary allowed him by George III. was scarcely a princely one. It was, as a matter of fact, £200 a year. The idea was that he would earn his living by making telescopes, and so indeed he did. He made altogether some hundreds. Among others, four for the King. But this eternal making of telescopes for other people to use or play with was a weariness to the flesh. What he wanted was to observe, observe, observe.