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Long before James wrote his final paper, the one that scientists would never forget, he was busy writing papers that no one would ever remember, papers like on a substance from an elm tree called Ulmann. A few facts relative to the coloring matters of some vegetables on the discovery of acids in mineral substances and the timeless on a sailin substance from Mount Vesuvius. Though the topics varied wildly, his many unvarnished titles had one thing in common. They all reflected the author's long held belief that all things should be described as simply and accurately as possible.

And so James made a point to title each of his papers in a way that invited zero ambiguity. Thus, his very first paper, presented to Britain's Royal Society back in 1791, was called an account of some chemical experiments on Tabish year because that's exactly what it was.

A scientific analysis of how the fluid inside certain forms of bamboo could form new and useful compounds when combined with other substances.

James would never forget that first presentation for the 26 year old chemist. This was his moment. The ultimate assemblage of scientists, physicians, naturalists, physicists and philosophers had gathered in London in the north wing of Somerset Hall to evaluate his work. The sheer gravitas of the place was a palpable thing, and James was understandably tense. He could also sense the skepticism radiating from the crowd as he waited to be introduced, nervously checking that the pages of his presentation were in order.

James could pick out a few murmurs from the front row as the old guard settled into their overstuffed chairs, puffing on their cigars, sipping their brandies. Tabish here.

Really? I suppose we're treating chemistry as science these days. What next?

Pray tell, astrology, hypnosis, acupuncture should be most illuminating.

Cadd. Recall the last time I was enlightened by the illegitimate son of a Smith.

The man chortled, leaned in closer and continued to speak in hushed tones. I'm told the Duke of Northumberland shagged the lads mother in the stables after a fox hunt in Yorkshire, his wife's own cousin, no less Tallyho James flushed with anger as the aristocrats continued to gossip.

The illegitimacy of his birth had plagued him from his earliest memory, denied his correct name. James Macie was disqualified from entering the military, the clergy, the civil service and politics. Science was all he had left. Science a discipline that should be utterly indifferent to titles and birthrights, but was no less polluted with egomaniacs and sneering elitists and political animals eager to curry favor with the nearest royal. James was dismayed by the state of science in his beloved England and hoped to reinvigorate the Royal Society with more curiosity and less pretence.

An old man wearing an ill fitting wig and a waistcoat several sizes too small walked to the podium and demanded quiet.

Gentlemen, for your edification, we present to you our youngest member to share with us his first paper, soon to be published and no doubt destined to revolutionize mankind's relationship with bamboo.

The audience laughed. James flushed some more. The esteemed organization that published Newton's Principia Mathematica and Franklin's kite experiment was devolving into something else entirely. These were not the men who tracked the transit of Venus and backed Cook's epic voyage to Tahiti.

These men were far too in love with yesterday's accomplishments here.

Then, with no further ado and account of some chemical experiments on Thabiso presented by Mr. James Lewis Macy, the crowd applauded the way crowds do when their hands or otherwise occupied with drinks and cigars.

There was some general halfhearted harrumphing as the sound of walking sticks tapped on the wooden floor. James made his way to the podium under the dead gaze of various animal heads mounted on the walls. He knew exactly what the audience was thinking. Oh, good. Here comes the Duke of Northumberland bastard son to enlighten us with his pointless chemistry.

Somebody wake me when it's over at base. It was an 18th century TED talk, and if there had been video back in 1791, this one probably wouldn't have gone viral. It was, however, an indisputably thorough presentation, relentlessly specific and unapologetically scientific.

And so while the reception was cool within the Royal Society, he was the bastard son of a Smith. After all, the science itself was well received, which could also be said of his many papers that soon followed papers like on the discovery of acids in mineral substances, a method of fixing crayon colors, some improvements in lamps, and the ever popular on the detection of very minute quantities of arsenic and mercury. So titled because. Well, that's exactly what they were.

When the first Duke of Northumberland died, his illegitimate son didn't grieve for James Massey, did not really know his father, what his mother died. James inherited a tidy sum, which he invested wisely then with both parents dead and buried. James finally took his father's last name, his correct name, the name denied him at birth. Under that moniker, he continued to publish, and the more he wrote, the more convinced he became that science, real science, the kind of science that was rooted in everyday curiosity and intellectual honesty, belonged not just to the man in power, but to the people.

And then one day, when he could take no more high handed, high minded, supercilious condescension, James shocked the scientific world. He broke with the Royal Society and challenged European monarchs to do all they could to, quote, increase and diffuse knowledge among men. It was a tough sell, but this rebellious Englishman, this illegitimate son of a Smith, never stopped trying to bring science to the masses, nor did he ever stop writing, satisfying his boundless curiosity with papers like an improved method of making coffee, an examination of some Egyptian colors, and a letter from Dr.

Black describing a very sensible balance. There were other papers, of course, many others, but only one is still remembered today.

His last one, the one he called my last will and testament because, well, that's precisely what it was, a simple document that in one paragraph bequeathed over 15 million of today's dollars to the country James believed was most likely to follow the instructions of his will to found an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men.

Who was the lucky recipient of such an extraordinary gift, was it England, his own country, with its ridiculous titles and doomed aristocracy? Was it France, his adopted country with its equally ridiculous nobility and preposterous lords and ladies?

No. In the end, James Lewis Macy left his fortune to a country he never even visited, a country that seemed to care very little for titles.

A new nation where it was said a man might be judged on the legitimacy of his ideas, not the illegitimacy of his name.

Thus, you can today find a very English name all over Washington, D.C., emblazoned on the facade of 16 separate museums for research centers, multiple libraries, a magazine, a press, a traveling exhibition service, an office of education, a cable TV channel and a national zoo. Quite a legacy for the bastard son of a Smith, or to be precise and illegitimate, Smith's son. The inconvenient spawn of Hugh Smithson, first Duke of Northumberland, who was far too busy to raise the progeny of his aristocratic affair.

And so it came to pass that a curious boy christened James Lewis Macie grew to become a scientist who believed all things should be called by their correct names, including people. Ergo, James Lewis Macie became James Smithson, the British scientist who left the world a uniquely American institution, an institution we call the Smithsonian. Anyway, that's the way I heard it.