Edmond Halley was born on the 8th November 1656 in eastern London, the son of a relatively wealthy soapmaker and entrepreneur. His childhood was comfortable, but uneventful, and from a very early age he showed an interest in mathematics. When the Great Fire of London devastated the city in September 1666, 9-year-old Edmond watched as the flames destroyed a sizable amount of his father’s fortune and realized that his mind was set: he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps and would occupy himself with less perishable matters. His heart belonged to science.
Fortunately, Edmond Halley Sr. was very supportive of his son’s choices. Despite the setback that the Great Fire had been for his finances, he made sure to pay for Edmond Jr.’s studies and provide him with the necessary tools to develop his knowledge, such as his first telescope.
By the time that Halley was in college, he managed to strike a friendship with a rather important person: John Flamsteed, the first Astronomer Royal. This relationship would prove to be a double-edged sword for Edmond Halley. While at the beginning his rapport with Flamsteed was excellent and he learnt much from the other astronomer, Flamsteed’s view of Halley eventually changed for the worse. The differences between them blossomed into full-blown hostility, and Flamsteed resolved to block Halley’s advance for as long as he lived.
However, it is certain that positive things came out of the time in which both men were friendly towards each other. Flamsteed had been working on a project to catalogue the stars of the Northern Hemisphere, and Halley was inspired to do the same for the Southern Hemisphere. Therefore, he left Oxford University before finishing his studies and embarked on a two-year voyage that took him to the faraway island of St. Helena in 1676. The detailed observations that he and his companions made during the two-year journey and the resulting star catalogue of the southern stars (the first one ever compiled with the aid of a telescope) contributed to his nomination as a fellow of the Royal Society and to his standing in the eyes of king Charles II.
His non-conventional beliefs made him somewhat of an outcast in the eyes of the scientific and clerical authorities of the time, but they couldn’t keep him away from the thriving scientific community of the time allowed Halley to quickly make a name for himself as a mediator in disputes, such as the conflict between Johannes Hevelius, Robert Hooke and his very mentor John Flamsteed. He also demonstrated a keenness for making sense of great quantities of data, developing advances that redefined demographics as we know it.
These qualities served him well when one of the key moments of his life came to pass. Like many other experts of the time, Halley busied himself with finding a way to prove Kepler’s laws of planetary motion. He was specially motivated, given that Christopher Wren had turned the matter into a race between Halley and Robert Hooke, with a monetary prize for the winner. At one point, in 1684, he decided to consult with Isaac Newton, who had allegedly done some work in the field, and history was made.
When Halley posed his questions to Newton, he was surprised to see the natural philosopher answer casually with a solution to the problem. Newton said he had already solved it some time ago, but that he couldn’t show him the proof because he had misplaced it. However, he quickly remade it and showed it to Halley, who immediately abandoned any personal ambitions or projects that he might have had and focused all of his efforts in helping Newton achieve the recognition that he deserved. He encouraged the man to go public with his findings, bringing the discovery to the attention of the Royal Society and paying money out of his own pocket to finance the publication. The result was the Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, one of the most revolutionary works in the history of science. Halley and Newton remained close friends ever since.
After all, Halley’s sacrifices for his friend and the progress of all science were rewarded. Newton’s Principia served as a stepping stone from which to launch many inquiries into the mysteries of the celestial. Halley set out to analyze ancient observations of astronomical events, compare them to the current ones and derive new conclusions. He found his greatest successes in the study of comets. He researched the appearances of many of them throughout history and was able to deduce how several of those appearances were the recurrence of older comets that returned from the outer fringes of the solar system. In fact, he predicted that the comet of 1682 (which he had observed and researched extensively) had been observed previously in 1531 and 1607 and would return in 1758. He knew that he would be dead by then, but he hoped that his eventual successors would be able to prove him right.
Even though these are considered the greatest highlights of his career, Halley never stopped moving, never stopped learning. His interests and achievements were as ardent as they were diverse. He fought for a post as a professor in Oxford, against the barriers put up by his superiors. He designed a diving bell to explore the depths. He researched geomagnetism and identified the aurora borealis as an electromagnetic phenomenon. He revolutionized life insurance. He teamed up with Newton to manage the Mint and rationalize England’s coinage. He befriended Peter the Great. He was given command of a ship. He undertook the challenge of dating the mysterious Stonehenge (he failed).
Halley would not receive the promotions that he sought until his opponents died, such was the zeal with which they impeded his advance. John Flamsteed’s passing saw Halley become the next Astronomer Royal in 1720 and he established his new base of operations at the Greenwich observatory. His new position did not change his work in the slightest: he kept diligently observing, cataloguing, mapping the sky. What he did as the apprentice, he did now as the master.
Thus, Halley died as he lived: ceaselessly pursuing the mysteries of the universe. He had continued his work as an astronomer well into his twilight years, and death found him sitting on his chair at the observatory, at the ripe old age of 86. His mind remained a well-oiled machine; it was his ailing body what finally gave out and put an end to his journey.
True to his calculations, the 1682 comet returned 77 years later. Appropriately, it was christened “Halley’s Comet”, after the man that had dedicated so much to it.