From an early age he sunbathed naked on Welsh hillsides (when there was sun), which did not endear him to the preachers of the local chapels. He believed himself to be a druid, wrote in an archaic Welsh all his own, and wore red trousers, a green tunic, and a complete fox skin on his head. He grew a long white beard and refused to wear socks. He was a vegetarian, claiming that to eat the flesh of animals was to take on their characteristics (exactly what a vegetarian cousin of mine claimed a century later), and was an anti-vaccinationist. He was in favour of free love and fathered a child at the age of 87.
He was the father of British cremation, believing burial to be unhygenic and wasteful. In 1884 he tried to cremate his 5 month old son (called Jesus Christ Price) but was arrested in the attempt. A howling mob attacked his home for his blasphemy, but at his trial—Dr. Price always defended himself—he was acquitted by the judge, James Fitzjames Stephen, author of the classic riposte to John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty and uncle of Virginia Woolf. Henceforth cremation was permissible under UK law. The howling mob changed its mind too. Around 20,000 people attended Dr. Price’s own cremation, nine years later.
— Theodore Dalrymple, Nothing But Wickedness: The Delusions of Our Culture
This potent little capsule biography reminds me of a similar one by Bill Bryson. Again, it seems to me that a full biography would be disappointing in comparison. On the one hand, it’s sobering to imagine one’s own life summarized, however deftly, in a couple short paragraphs. On the other hand, we can only hope for a Dalrymple or Bryson to memorialize us in such a charming way. Nudity seems to be a common theme with these eccentrics. I guess I need to start going around naked more often if I’m going to be worthy of an amusing eulogy.