London Diaries: The Imperfect Story of a Perfect Clockmaker
Meet John Harrison and his epic journey to give us a perfect sea clock to measure longitude.
I saw mirrored in clockmaker Harrison’s work, the collective life of us writers seeking perfection in our writing, even as our creative journey is sometimes imperfect.
Dear friends,
Authenticity sits beautifully on the soul. When you see authenticity in someone, you pause to admire the beauty, humility, and gusto of the person for staying true to themselves, despite it all.
Such is the story of John Harrison, the 17th century English clockmaker and woodworker who went up against mighty astronomers of his time to ingenuously solve the problem of longitude when the world was struggling to map the seas and avoid repeated maritime disasters. Harrison spent 31 (yes!) years perfecting a marine chronometer or a clock that works at sea, to determine longitude—yes, those imaginary lines that run top down on a globe and divide the world into east-west points—so ships could travel more directly and safely to their destinations.
Born on March 24, 1693, in Yorkshire, John Harrison was the son of a country woodworker and the oldest of five children. He was a self-taught genius, fascinated with the craft of clockmaking since age six. Legend has it that Harrison kept himself entertained by the ticking of a pocket watch during an episode of smallpox, and that triggered his fascination with timepieces. Harrison craved book learning and he is believed to have created his own annotated copy of a Cambridge math professor’s lectures, writing out every word and labeling every diagram to understand the laws of motion.
Carpenter Versus Astronomers
Harrison was a perfectionist woodworker-horologist who was passionate—obsessed even, one might say—with his craft of clockmaking. He firmly believed that his iterations of the marine chronometer, namely Harrison 1 or H-1, H-2, H-3, and H-4, that he spent a third of his life working on, were best poised to measure longitude and win him the Longitude Award of £20,000 announced by Queen Anne with the passage of the Longitude Act of 1714 (See the section, “Extra” at the end of this post to learn more about each of these exquisite pieces, including videos on how they work).
Harrison drove himself and his family into a frenzy and ill health perfecting his sea clock, and battling the prevalent scientific belief at the time that the answer to the longitude problem lay in the heavens above and studying the positions of the moon and the stars. He butted heads with leading Royal Astronomers of the time like Nevil Maskeleyne, his arch rival and nemesis, and James Bradley; noted German astronomer and map maker, Tobias Mayer; and Sir Isaac Newton himself.
The gist of the battle was: how dare a country clockmaker suggest a mechanical solution to what was clearly an astronomical problem? Ludicrous!
Harrison Wronged
Harrison’s bitter rivalry with Royal Astronomer, Nevile Maskeleyne—40 years his junior and unlike Harrison, well educated at Cambridge and Trinity College, and an avid mapper of the skies—meant that Harrison’s timepiece would be politicized by his arch rival and tested time and again, unfairly. This included multiple voyages abroad on the sea to test its credibility; impossible demands of duplicating his intricate inventions, part by part; and even having Harrison disassemble hundreds of minute pieces for examination by Maskeleyne and his Royal Society cohorts. All along, Harrison suffered from bouts of gout and failing eyesight, not to mention being subject to stress, public mockery, and criticism for being up in arms against the astronomical elite.
Listening to Harrison’s case, even King George III exclaimed upon meeting with Harrison's son, William, in 1772 at the Windsor Castle, “These people have been cruelly treated. By God Harrison, I will see you righted!”
Finally in 1773, when Harrison was 80 years old, he received a monetary award in the amount of £8,750 from the Parliament for his achievements, but he never received the official Longitude Award (which, by the way, was never awarded to anyone). He died three years later. In total though, Harrison received £23,065 over several separate installments for his work on chronometers, and he became the equivalent of a multi-millionaire in the final decade of his life.
Longitudes or meridians are imaginary lines that run top down from the north to the south pole, but actually measure distances east to west. Featured here at the Royal Observatory, a must see, is the Prime Meridian at Greenwich (the metallic brown strip running down the center of the photograph), which has divided the eastern and western hemispheres of the Earth since the late 19th century and forms the basis of Greenwich Median Time (GMT). My son Sahil, above, has one foot in the eastern hemisphere and the other in the western hemisphere! It’s pretty cool. The Royal Observatory today houses Harrison’s timepieces, which are, lo and behold, in working condition even 300-odd years after their invention.
Harrison et Moi: Why the Kinship?
As I walked through the crowded room at the Royal Observatory where Harrison’s enchanting timepieces lie today, I was instantly smitten.
First, I fell in love with the intricate, almost fairy-tale like contraptions. They seemed to have a million parts, yet they seemed to move in perfect harmony like, well, clockwork (see videos below).
Second, I fell in love with the story of the man—not only his stellar dedication to his craft, but his simplicity, honesty, and humility. Humility especially, is a core teaching of the Vedanta, the spiritual belief system I follow and write about here, and is challenging for anyone to practice, since it is hard to set aside the Ego. I’d imagine for the ultra intelligent, like Harrison, it’d be harder. Notwithstanding, Harrison willingly admitted to the Board of Longitude—multiple times at that—that he could improve his timepieces, even if that meant losing the prize money, valued today at $3 million. That takes gusto!
Harrison's story was human yet poignant, simple yet complex, humble yet majestic in its outcomes. It was an extraordinary display of life in its many shades, in a way that resonates with everyone.
Third, as a writer, I identified with Harrison. After all, how many times have we proverbially killed ourselves writing a story just like Harrison drove himself sick creating his masterpieces?
recently wrote about The Thin Line Between Perseverance and Clenching, with “clenching” being that stubborn creative grave dug by our own perfectionism and high expectations. We watch ourselves as writers going down that rabbit hole of endless edits, certain that we won’t be able to continue on any more till—lo and behold—we are buoyed by that sudden urge of creativity or God power that navigates our work to a perfect end. It happened to me with this story that marinated in me for so long, it was worse than being on the dentist’s chair!I saw mirrored in clockmaker Harrison’s work, the collective life of us writers seeking perfection in our writing, even as our creative journey is sometimes imperfect.
Finally, I saw reflected in Harrison’s trajectory, the spirit behind my Substack’s namesake, Imperfectly Perfect. Perfect moments in life happen in the seat of imperfection, and it is in our best interest to train our mind from a young age to recognize these perfect moments and feel good about them. Especially as we age and life tends to drag its feet, we are bound to walk through some proverbial muck and mire, eventually dimming the eternal optimism of youth.
Recognizing that life’s a matter of learning to see the glitter in the gray, gives it an ever-optimistic wrap and keeps us going toward that next spectacular burst.
I shared with
in response to his wonderful post on If You're In the Shower, Be in the Shower that I fell upon Zen Buddhism and Thich Nhat Hahn’s The Miracle of Mindfulness during the worst time of my life—delivering and losing my son at an advanced stage of pregnancy—and wanting to get a handle on my mind and my obsessive desire to have a baby, no matter what. That journey further led me to discover Vedanta, which inspires my life journey every day.Waiting for or chasing perfection does not pay; doggedly sticking to doing what feels meaningful to us and enjoying what we choose to do, makes life fun and worth living. I only hope Harrison recognized his meaningful moments on the tough road to perfecting his clock at sea, and enjoyed them as perfect in their authenticity. I did, and I am thankful for it. I hope you enjoyed his story too, in all its authenticity.
Meaningfully yours,
Anu Prabhala
PS: Do pick up Dava Sobel’s Longitude, if interested some more in the fascinating details of Harrison’s journey (yes, there are many more intricacies!). It’s a brilliant read.
Extra: Harrison’s Four Timepieces
Harrison developed four timepieces—Harrison-1 or H-1, H-2, H-3, and H-4 over 31 years.
Watch a video on how H-1 works (scroll down on the page). H-1 took Harrison five years to make, and the Board of Longitude was ready to give him the prize money of £20,000 for it, but Harrison became his own worst critic and asked the Board to give him two years and £500 to fix its defects, and make it smaller and perfect it, thank you!
H-2 never went to trial, because Harrison hated his new version and claimed to have discovered a fundamental flaw. He asked the Board of Longitude if he could go home and try it all over again.
Watch a video on how H-3 works (scroll down on the page). Harrison began work on his third attempt, H-3, in 1740, and would continue to work on it for 19 years! No one knows exactly why Harrison took so long to finish it, but it became an obsession to the extent that Harrison did not even seek gainful employment during that time.
Watch a video on how H-4 works (scroll down on the page). H-4, which finally won Harrison the prize money, had the most contentious history, mostly because of the clash between royal astronomer, Nevile Maskeleyne and Harrison, who hated each other. Maskeleyne tried to oust him and his invention out of favor with the Board of Longitude, so that he could keep the prize money to himself and practice his preferred lunar distance method to track longitude.
A beautifully written piece Anu. Arrogance and humility conflict us all. Humility should win always, but it seldom does, leaving all too often the arrogant to prevail! But it is good to see that Harrison won out in the end.
This was fascinating, Anu. I can relate to both the obsessive working on something and the perfectionism.