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History has been unkind to astronomer Nevil Maskelyne 鈥� but the bizarre suit he wore in the cause of science tells a different story

IT WAS yet another bone-chilling winter鈥檚 night in Greenwich and Nevil Maskelyne steeled himself for a spell in his hilltop . Clear skies and the position of the moon and stars dictated when he must drag himself from his fireside to spend an hour or two at the telescope. With the observatory roof open to the night sky, it was cold enough to freeze the blood鈥�

For Maskelyne, Britain鈥檚 Astronomer Royal from 1765 to 1811, duty and observations came before comfort. But why suffer unnecessarily? Since his appointment, he had endured some appalling winters. Ever practical, Maskelyne鈥檚 response to plummeting temperatures was to climb into his specially tailored 鈥渙bserving suit鈥�.

Standing by the fire, he pulled on his breeches. Outside, they were fashionable Indian silk striped in bright yellow, red and white. Inside, they were warm flannel and between the two was a layer of wadding. Even stranger, they had built-in feet and an enormous cushioned bottom for sitting on something cold and hard. Next came the jacket. Made from matching silk, it buttoned to the neck in the style of the day, but was padded and quilted and cut unfashionably short 鈥� too short to hide his bulging bottom. Finally, Maskelyne slipped his outsized padded feet into a pair of wooden overshoes, or pattens, for the short walk to the observatory.

It鈥檚 a far cry from the popular view of Maskelyne today. Now he is best known as the arch-enemy of John Harrison, the self-educated genius who invented the sea-going clock that enabled mariners to find a ship鈥檚 longitude at sea 鈥� a view that began to take shape in the 1930s after Harrison鈥檚 early timekeepers were rediscovered and restored. The idea of Maskelyne the villain gained even wider currency when writer Dava Sobel took up the story in her bestselling book Longitude. Harrison became the hard-done-by hero and Maskelyne the arrogant, vindictive man who abused his position to deny Harrison the reward he deserved.

鈥淚t is unfortunate that he is known only for his role in the Harrison story,鈥� says Rebekah Higgitt, curator for the history of science and technology at the . 鈥淗e was so much more than that.鈥�

As Astronomer Royal, Maskelyne was the driving force behind many improvements in astronomy and navigation. He was a leading light of the Royal Society and organised the scientific side of some of its most famous voyages of exploration, including James Cook鈥檚. In 1774, Maskelyne travelled to Scotland to carry out a famous experiment to 鈥渨eigh the world鈥�, calculating Earth鈥檚 density by measuring the gravitational pull of the mountain Schiehallion. But his greatest achievement was the Nautical Almanac, which proved such a vital source of astronomical data for navigators and astronomers that it is still in print today. 鈥淗e was a hugely significant figure in the scientific world for more than four decades,鈥� says Higgitt.

Two hundred years after his death, historians at the museum would like Maskelyne鈥檚 good name to be restored. They hope the image of him in his eccentric observing suit will help to banish the perception that he was a snobbish and mean-hearted villain. The suit is part of a collection of Maskelyne鈥檚 personal possessions and private notebooks donated to the museum in 2009, which together reveal a character at odds with the one fixed in the public imagination.

The question of longitude

By the time Maskelyne embarked on his career as an astronomer, some of the finest minds in Europe had spent many years puzzling over the problem of finding longitude at sea. In 1714, the British government passed the Longitude Act, which offered a prize of 拢20,000 (well over 拢1 million today) for any method accurate to within half a degree that would be 鈥渇ound practicable and useful at sea鈥�. It also established a Board of Longitude 鈥渇or examining, trying and judging of all proposals, experiments, and improvements relating to the same鈥�.

By the mid-18th century, the two front-runners were a technological solution and an astronomical one. The key to calculating longitude was to know what time it was locally and at a second reference point such as Greenwich: every hour鈥檚 difference equals 15掳 of longitude. Mariners could easily tell the time at sea by observing the sun and measuring its altitude. The challenge was working out the time at Greenwich. Harrison aimed to solve the problem with a timepiece so accurate that it would keep Greenwich time over long ocean voyages, and began work on a sea clock in 1730. The astronomical solution was the 鈥渓unar distance method鈥�, which used the daily predicted movement of the moon across the sky to calculate the time at Greenwich.

By 1761, when Maskelyne entered the picture, the Board of Longitude was considering Harrison鈥檚 fourth timekeeper, the brilliantly innovative watch that eventually scooped him the longitude prize, and a new improved version of the lunar distance method submitted by German astronomer Tobias Mayer. That year, the 28-year-old Maskelyne sailed to St Helena in the South Atlantic to observe the transit of Venus for the . Although cloud obscured the sun at the crucial moment, Maskelyne鈥檚 trip was not wasted. He spent his months at sea experimenting with Mayer鈥檚 improved lunar method and reported it was sufficiently accurate to find longitude to within 1掳 鈥� though it took a marathon 4 hours of calculations to work out the time at Greenwich.

Nonetheless, Maskelyne believed that with improvements in accuracy and simpler mathematics, the lunar method would be a cheap and practical solution to the longitude problem. Perhaps not surprisingly, when Maskelyne was sent to Barbados by the Board of Longitude to assess the reliability of Harrison鈥檚 sea watch in 1763, the clock-maker and his son William suspected him of bias. His enthusiasm for the lunar distance method prompted William to suggest that Maskelyne had sabotaged the trial of his father鈥檚 watch to bolster the case for astronomy. When Maskelyne was made Astronomer Royal in 1765, a job that automatically put him on the Board of Longitude, the Harrisons were convinced he was the main obstacle standing between them and the prize.

Harrison did eventually receive the full prize but not before waging a very public campaign against Maskelyne, accusing him of coveting the prize for himself. Official records of events make it clear that the Harrisons鈥� concerns were unfounded. As Astronomer Royal, Maskelyne was ineligible for the prize. Nor is there any evidence of prejudice against Harrison. Maskelyne thought Harrison 鈥渁 genius of the first rate鈥� and his sea watch a brilliant but very expensive invention. Based on price and practicality, he felt the lunar distance method was a better bet.

The lunar method鈥檚 drawback was the need for time-consuming calculations to find Greenwich time. But Maskelyne had a brainwave 鈥� he hired a network of mathematically minded people to do the routine sums in advance and published ready-worked lunar tables in the Nautical Almanac. All mariners had to do then was measure the angle between the moon and a star, look the figures up in the tables and do 30 minutes of relatively simple mathematics. If Harrison was a mechanical genius, Maskelyne was the ultimate pragmatist. Marine clocks and later chronometers were expensive rarities not widely used until the early 19th century. Maskelyne鈥檚 Nautical Almanac was an immediate success. Within a few years, he was publishing tables several years ahead to cater for long voyages.

All the evidence suggests Maskelyne was no villain, but what about the other slurs on his character? Documents and letters portray him as a sociable man with a network of friends and contacts. Records also show he was fair-minded and did not hold grudges. Even while the Harrisons were accusing him of what amounted to corruption, he recommended William for election to the Royal Society.

The charges of elitism and snobbery don鈥檛 hold up either. In 1784, the Royal Society was rocked by the 鈥渕athematicians鈥� mutiny鈥�, in which engineers, surveyors and astronomers rebelled against the dominance of the gentleman elite, in particular the society鈥檚 president Joseph Banks, who they regarded as a dandified dabbler in botany. 鈥淢askelyne was on the side of those who used their mathematical expertise to make a living, what the mutineers called the scientific side of the society,鈥� says Higgitt.

With access to Maskelyne鈥檚 notebooks, the museum鈥檚 scholars now have the opportunity to learn something of his private side. 鈥淗e was a meticulous, almost compulsive observer and jotted down extraordinary details of his day-to-day life 鈥� things he鈥檚 done, lists of things to do, things he鈥檚 read or heard,鈥� says Amy Miller, curator of decorative arts and material culture.

One moment he records ordering linen for six shirts, the next he鈥檚 jotted down the longitude of some far-flung outpost of the colonies. Between lists of tradesmen and handy household hints (鈥渉ow to make a powder of soap鈥� and 鈥渉ow to hide a hole in a black silk stocking鈥�), he sketches the optics of a new astronomical instrument. Remedies for all manner of ailments, from colds to nosebleeds, feature regularly. In the 1780s, he was obsessed with stomach remedies, says Miller. 鈥淗e had a major issue with his bowels. There are pages of rhubarb recipes.鈥�

Food for thought

Food also loomed large in his life. Norfolk dumplings, he noted immediately after the longitude of Pondicherry, are 鈥渙nly milk and flour stirred together but not too hard and boiled in a strainer without salt or anything else鈥�. He often received gifts of food and sometimes liked something so much he started to buy it for himself, says Miller. 鈥淗e鈥檇 get chocolate. Then it would be Lapsang souchong and green tea. And then he took a liking to tomato ketchup which was just coming into vogue.鈥�

Some of his enthusiasms lasted longer than others. Cider was a long-term interest. He was initiated into the art of cider-making on a trip to Somerset, and from then on made it in vast quantities. His notebooks record the day he made 300 gallons 鈥� and a little later, the day when only half was left.

After almost 20 years at the observatory, Maskelyne married. He doesn鈥檛 mention the marriage, but 10 months later makes a note to engage a midwife. His only child, Margaret, was born in June 1785. 鈥淲e start to see a more intimate side of him when he writes about his wife and daughter,鈥� says Miller. When Margaret was very ill as a child, he is clearly upset. 鈥淗e obsessively logs the course of her illness as if it helps him through it.鈥�

While Maskelyne鈥檚 jottings do not prove he was sweet and saintly they do paint a more three-dimensional and human picture of him. The real convincer is the observing suit. 鈥淗e was short and a bit podgy and with his pattens on he would have waddled with his bottom sticking out,鈥� says Miller. It鈥檚 hard to imagine there weren鈥檛 a few giggles 鈥� but if the state of his much-mended breeches is any guide, he wasn鈥檛 too bothered. He carried on waddling to work on bitter winter nights for 30 years or more.