In the world of grand promises and bold claims, the line between confidence and deception can blur all too easily. What begins as ambition can quickly spiral into illusion, and the pressure to maintain appearances grows heavier with every passing moment. In 1783, James Price, a chemist and self-proclaimed alchemist, found himself in such a predicament. Trapped in a web of his own making, he chose a tragic end over the humiliation of exposure.
James Price was born James Higginbotham in London in 1752. As a young man, he changed his surname to Price in accordance with the wishes of a deceased relative who had left him a significant inheritance. Little is known about his early education, but he went on to study at Oxford University, where he excelled academically. By the age of 25, he had earned a Master of Arts degree, and in 1778, he was awarded a Doctor of Medicine, largely in recognition of his contributions to chemistry. Just three years later, in 1781, he was elected a member of the prestigious Royal Society.
“The Alchemist Discovering Phosphorus” by Joseph Wright of Derby (1734–1797)
Despite his academic accolades, there are no surviving records detailing the specific nature of Price's chemical research at Oxford. What is clear, however, is that he eventually turned away from the empirical foundations established by pioneers like Francis Bacon and Robert Boyle, venturing instead into the arcane world of alchemy. In 1782, he embarked on an ambitious project—one that would ultimately unravel both his career and his life.
Price acquired a country house in Stoke, near Guildford in Surrey, where he constructed and outfitted an impressive laboratory. His goal was one that had captivated alchemists for centuries: the transmutation of base metals into precious ones, such as gold and silver. Unlike his many predecessors, however, Price appeared to have achieved success. After showcasing his results privately to a select group of friends, he decided to stage a series of public experiments to further demonstrate his discoveries.
In a pamphlet published in May 1782 and titled An account of some experiments on mercury, silver and gold made at Guildford, Price describes an experiment conducted on May 6, 1782, before an audience comprising of some of the most respected men in the country. The demonstration began with a flux mixture composed of borax, a small piece of charcoal, and a small piece of nitre, all pounded together with a pestle under the watchful eyes of his audience. The carefully inspected mixture was then pressed into a small Hessian crucible, onto which half an ounce of mercury was added. At this point, Price introduced what he claimed to be the key to his success: half a grain of “a certain powder, of a deep red colour.” It was these mysterious powders, Price insisted, that made his remarkable results possible.
James Price.
The crucible was placed in the fire of a “moderate red heat”, with Price keeping a close eye on developments and urging others too to watch every stage of the process.
“In about a quarter of an hour, from the projection of the powder, and the placing of the crucible in the fire, he observed to the company, who on inspection found his observation true, that the mercury though in a red hot crucible, shewed no signs of evaporation, or even of boiling.”
The heat was gradually increased, and an iron rod was dipped into the crucible. To the astonishment of the onlookers, small “globules of a whitish-coloured metal” appeared. Price noted that this material could not be mercury, as it remained stable even under intense heat. He explained that it was an intermediate substance in the transmutation process.
The fire was then raised further, and more borax was added. When the crucible was finally removed and broken open, a “globule of yellow metal” was discovered at the bottom, with smaller globules scattered throughout the residue. The metal was carefully collected and weighed, amounting to ten grams.
The sample was sealed in a vial and sent away for testing. Yet, to those present who had witnessed the experiment, there was little doubt. Sure enough, the following day Price's assertions were confirmed: he had produced gold.
Price conducted a total of seven public demonstrations, each showcasing what appeared to be the successful transmutation of mercury into gold and, later, silver. For the latter, he used a different powder—this one white in colour. Though he refused to reveal the composition or preparation method of his mysterious powders, he willingly submitted the resulting gold and silver to reputable assayers, who consistently declared the metals to be genuine. In a gesture that underscored his confidence in his results, Price even presented some of the gold he had produced to King George III.
“The Alchemist” by Mattheus van Helmont (1623-1679)
Price’s fabulous experiments took place during a transformative period in the history of science. Alchemy, once a respected pursuit, was increasingly being overshadowed by the principles of modern science, which emphasized precise measurement, repeatability, and empirical observation. Central to this shift was Robert Boyle, often considered the father of modern chemistry. Boyle approached his experiments with meticulous care, recording every conceivable variable, from atmospheric pressure to the phases of the moon, in an effort to eliminate uncertainty and bias. This methodical approach laid the groundwork for modern chemistry as it emerged in the 18th and 19th centuries.
By the early 18th century, a clear distinction had been established between alchemy and chemistry. Alchemy became synonymous with the quest for gold-making, a pursuit now widely dismissed as fraudulent. Consequently, alchemists were increasingly viewed as charlatans, and their work as little more than elaborate deception. Against this backdrop of scepticism, it was no surprise that many men of science, including Price’s colleagues at the Royal Society, viewed his claims with deep suspicion.
Joseph Black, the eminent Scottish chemist, known for his discoveries of magnesium, carbon dioxide, latent heat, and specific heat, wrote that Price's claim was "nothing but a mass of errors throughout." Black goes on to say:
I thought it was necessary, however, to take some notice of his pamphlet in my introductory lecture this season, but my only intention in this was earnestly to dissuade my pupils from giving way in the least to the ruinous notions and pursuits of Alchemy, which Dr. P's publication, so far as it may be credited, would have a tendency to encourage. I reminded my audience that numerous experiments to prove the possibility of transformation had been formerly exhibited or described which were afterwards discovered to have been founded on mistakes or frauds: and observed that the present age does not require incentive to experimental inquiries, with a view to deterring my young friends from entering Alchemical Notions or Projects.
Eventually, the Royal Society asked Price to make another demonstration, this time under the supervision of its members. Price refused, arguing that his previous experiments had already been performed in the presence of honourable and competent witnesses, leaving nothing to be gained from repeating them. However, the Society was adamant. Price was reminded that not only his personal honour but also the integrity of one of the world’s most esteemed scientific institutions was at stake.
“An alchemist peering into a glass vessel”, by James Northcote (1746-1831)
Price tried to excuse himself by saying that he had exhausted his supply of powders and that the process of preparing it was not only difficult and tedious but injurious to his health as well. Moreover, he admitted that while the results of his experiments were valuable as scientific discoveries, they were far from being commercially viable. According to his calculations, producing just one ounce of gold cost around seventeen pounds sterling—a sum vastly exceeding the gold’s actual market value of less than four pounds.
But the Royal Society would have none of it. They insisted that Price must repeat his experiments under the observation of an appointed panel, leaving no doubt about the legitimacy of his claims. The pressure proved inescapable. Reluctantly, Price conceded and agreed to prepare a fresh batch of his powders for a final demonstration that would either cement his legacy or expose him as a fraud.
Price left London, in January 1783, and shut himself up in his laboratory at Guildford ostensibly to start production of the miraculous powders. What he did instead, was distil a measure of laurel water from the fresh leaves of the cherry laurel. Laurel water was historically used as treatment for asthma, coughs, indigestion and dyspepsia, and as a sedative narcotic. However, laurel water also contains hydrogen cyanide, an extremely toxic compound. During this time, Price also took the sombre step of writing his will.
On August 3, 1783, members of the Royal Society arrived in Stoke to witness the long-anticipated demonstration. The initial excitement surrounding Price’s experiments had waned considerably due to the repeated delays and his begrudging conduct. As a result, only three representatives appeared at the laboratory on the appointed day. Though visibly disappointed by the poor turnout, Price greeted the delegates with cordiality and led them into his workspace. Suddenly, he stepped aside and drank the laurel water he had prepared from a flask. Within a few moments, Price collapsed and before the men realized what had happened, the chemist lay lifeless on the floor.
No one knows for certain what led Price to his terrible end. It is likely that he initially deceived himself, genuinely believing in the efficacy of his powders. Then by natural sequence, attempted either wilfully or in ignorance to deceive others. When he realized his error, he did not have the moral courage to confess openly and boldly that he had been mistaken. Whether out of shame, fear of public humiliation, or sheer despair, Price chose a final, irreversible act. He was just thirty-one years old.
References:
# Denis Duveen, “James Price (1752-1783) Chemist and Alchemist”
# Willow Winsham, “All That Glitters: James Price and the Death of Alchemy”
# Thebookofdays
# James Price, “An account of some experiments on mercury, silver and gold : made at Guildford in May, 1782, in the laboratory of James Price”
Comments
Post a Comment