In the year 1782, while Sir Joseph Banks, the autocrat of the philosophers, who presided so formidably over the Royal Society for no less than forty-three years, was still comparatively new to office, the extraordinary conduct of a learned and popular Fellow involved the Royal Society in a situation of some difficulty. James Price was not only wealthy and of high social standing, he was also a man of considerable reputation as a chemist. In May of the year before, he had been elected to the Society with complete confidence. In the spring of 1782, to the consternation of his fellow chemists, this man whom they held to be not only an authority on chemistry but a man of honour put forward a claim to have achieved the goal towards which throughout the ages the efforts of the alchemists had been directed. He had discovered, he said, a means of transmuting baser metal into gold. He claimed to be in possession of a white powder, capable of converting fifty times its own weight of mercury into silver and a red powder which could convert sixty times its weight of mercury into gold. Between 7 May and 25 May 1782 he conducted in public in the laboratory in his house at Stoke, near Guildford, a series of experiments which appeared to his audience to confirm his claim in every respect. The demonstrations were attended by a distinguished company, including his neighbours Lord Onslow, Lord King and Lord Palmerston, although, as the Royal Society could not but feel, it was not a scientific audience nor one qualified to pass judgement on his claim. The apparent success of his experiments caused an immense sensation and the belief in his powers was strengthened when the gold and silver alleged to have been produced were found genuine on assay and were exhibited to the King. The University of Oxford—Price had been a Fellow-commoner of Oriel—presented him with the degree of M.D. on account of* his chemical labours ’, and two editions of his book,1 describing in great detail the chemical reactions concerned in the process, were quickly sold.
Siamon Gordon: A half-century fascination with macrophages
