A look back at John Russell Hind’s legacy

0

One of the advantages of retirement is that itinerant astronerds like me can roam wherever our curiosity takes us.

Those intellectual meanderings led me to the obituary of 19th century English astronomer John Russell Hind, director of the George Bishop’s Observatory and superintendent of the Nautical Almanac from 1853 until 1891.

Here is what British astronomer William E. Plummer had to say:

“It is with deep regret that we announce the death of Dr. J. R. Hind, whose name and whose work were possibly more familiar to astronomical students of the last generation than they are to those of to-day. By this, we do not mean to imply that Dr. Hind had outlived his reputation, but that circumstances forced him to the front early in life and in connection with subjects that have long since ceased to attract or to interest.”

Dr. Hind was trained as an engineer but abandoned that occupation early to pursue astronomical interests. He first served at the Greenwich Royal Observatory under George Airy and then became director of the George Bishop’s Observatory.

For almost 40 years, he directed the creation of the yearly Nautical Almanac, a vital document for British sailors to determine their location at sea.

His interest in stars that varied in brightness led to his discovery of Hind’s Crimson Star in Lepus and Hind’s Variable Nebula in Taurus.

He also discovered that the star Mu Cephei, also known as the Garnet Star, in the constellation Cepheus, varied systematically in its brightness.

He was the early discoverer of 10 asteroids. In 1971, Czech astronomer Luboš Kohoutek, discoverer of asteroid 1897, named it 1897 Hind. Additionally, astronomers honored him with crater Hind on the moon.

He discovered two comets that bear his name, 1847 Hind and 1846 de Vico-Hind.

He won the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society in 1853 and was elected a fellow of that august body in 1863.

So why should he have received such faint praise in his obituary? To put it bluntly, Plummer and other astronomers of his generation did not consider him a “real” astronomer.

From the obituary:

“He never devoted himself in any way to the higher branches of physical astronomy; the mathematical training that is sufficient for an engineer is not of that character that is required to advance our knowledge of planetary theories, or to assist their development by new functions.”

Hind was a “practical astronomer,” as the obituary points out. His scientific life was “cramped” by the fact that “he never had occasion to employ the newer methods of observation that spectroscopy and photography demand … since the habits of his life and the direction of his work were settled before these methods of investigation were generally employed.”

In other words, Hind was a Luddite. He observed the old-fashioned — way with a telescope and his highly sensitive eye.

His astronomical work was utterly free of controversy, however. When Hind discovered his third asteroid in 1850, he had already found two others: 7 Iris and 8 Flora, only the 7th and 8th discovered.

He named the 1850 asteroid 12 Victoria after the beloved Queen of England. The best way of gaining funding in those days was to suck up to wealthy aristocrats and government officials.

Although there was no official policy at the time, astronomers were supposed to name “planets” after Roman gods, of which there were plenty to choose from. They certainly were not supposed to name them after living humans.

In response to such critiques, Hind somewhat disingenuously claimed that he named the hunk of space rock after the goddess Victoria, the Roman version of the Greek deity Nike, the goddess of victory.

Astronomers in the generation that followed him may have rejected him, but amateur and professional astronomers still remember him today.

Red stars like the Garnet Star and Hind’s Crimson Star turn out to be stars at the end of their lives. Hind noticed their variability, which, as it turns out, reflects the violent expansion and contraction that characterizes their death throes.

I think of him whenever I point a telescope at the Garnet Star, about which we will have a few words to say next week.

Tom Burns is the former director of the Perkins Observatory in Delaware.

No posts to display