The introduction of spectrum analysis into astronomical research in the mid-nineteenth century was synchronous with William Huggins's rise to prominence as an amateur astronomer. After his death in May 1910, eulogisers were effusive in their praise of his vision and imagination, which American astronomer George Ellery Hale suggested allowed Huggins ‘to divine some of the less obvious applications of the spectroscope’. Appreciation of his willingness to break new ground was tempered by admiration for what the Astronomer Royal for Scotland, Frank Watson Dyson (1868–1939), termed Huggins's ‘characteristic thoroughness’ and ‘care’, and what maverick American astronomer Thomas Jefferson Jackson See characterised as his ‘judicious habits of weighing evidence’, ‘wise selection of subjects of research’, and ‘strict conscientiousness and calm deliberation’. How did so cautious and measured a man come to lead a movement that ultimately revolutionised the theory, technique and practice of astronomy by the turn of the twentieth century?

The question's paradoxical premise, I argue, is founded on a well-crafted and convincing illusion, namely the sturdy façade of Huggins's public persona. Like a precious egg preserved in situ, the real stuff of another's life remains undisturbed until we, the curious, penetrate its protective shell. Once inside we may find only dust and musty memories. Not so in the case of William Huggins.