Self Help, Samuel Smiles [good romance books to read .txt] 📗

fortress of Spandau.

But the young apothecary, suspecting the king’s intention, and

probably fearing detection, at once resolved on flight, and he

succeeded in getting across the frontier into Saxony.

 

A reward of a thousand thalers was offered for Bottgher’s

apprehension, but in vain. He arrived at Wittenberg, and appealed

for protection to the Elector of Saxony, Frederick Augustus I.

(King of Poland), surnamed “the Strong.” Frederick was himself

very much in want of money at the time, and he was overjoyed at the

prospect of obtaining gold in any quantity by the aid of the young

alchemist. Bottgher was accordingly conveyed in secret to Dresden,

accompanied by a royal escort. He had scarcely left Wittenberg

when a battalion of Prussian grenadiers appeared before the gates

demanding the goldmaker’s extradition. But it was too late:

Bottgher had already arrived in Dresden, where he was lodged in the

Golden House, and treated with every consideration, though strictly

watched and kept under guard.

 

The Elector, however, must needs leave him there for a time, having

to depart forthwith to Poland, then almost in a state of anarchy.

But, impatient for gold, he wrote Bottgher from Warsaw, urging him

to communicate the secret, so that he himself might practise the

art of commutation. The young “gold-cook,” thus pressed, forwarded

to Frederick a small phial containing “a reddish fluid,” which, it

was asserted, changed all metals, when in a molten state, into

gold. This important phial was taken in charge by the Prince Furst

von Furstenburg, who, accompanied by a regiment of Guards, hurried

with it to Warsaw. Arrived there, it was determined to make

immediate trial of the process. The King and the Prince locked

themselves up in a secret chamber of the palace, girt themselves

about with leather aprons, and like true “gold-cooks” set to work

melting copper in a crucible and afterwards applying to it the red

fluid of Bottgher. But the result was unsatisfactory; for

notwithstanding all that they could do, the copper obstinately

remained copper. On referring to the alchemist’s instructions,

however, the King found that, to succeed with the process, it was

necessary that the fluid should be used “in great purity of heart;”

and as his Majesty was conscious of having spent the evening in

very bad company he attributed the failure of the experiment to

that cause. A second trial was followed by no better results, and

then the King became furious; for he had confessed and received

absolution before beginning the second experiment.

 

Frederick Augustus now resolved on forcing Bottgher to disclose the

golden secret, as the only means of relief from his urgent

pecuniary difficulties. The alchemist, hearing of the royal

intention, again determined to fly. He succeeded in escaping his

guard, and, after three days’ travel, arrived at Ens in Austria,

where he thought himself safe. The agents of the Elector were,

however, at his heels; they had tracked him to the “Golden Stag,”

which they surrounded, and seizing him in his bed, notwithstanding

his resistance and appeals to the Austrian authorities for help,

they carried him by force to Dresden. From this time he was more

strictly watched than ever, and he was shortly after transferred to

the strong fortress of Koningstein. It was communicated to him

that the royal exchequer was completely empty, and that ten

regiments of Poles in arrears of pay were waiting for his gold.

The King himself visited him, and told him in a severe tone that if

he did not at once proceed to make gold, he would be hung! (“Thu

mir zurecht, Bottgher, sonst lass ich dich hangen”).

 

Years passed, and still Bottgher made no gold; but he was not hung.

It was reserved for him to make a far more important discovery than

the conversion of copper into gold, namely, the conversion of clay

into porcelain. Some rare specimens of this ware had been brought

by the Portuguese from China, which were sold for more than their

weight in gold. Bottgher was first induced to turn his attention

to the subject by Walter von Tschirnhaus, a maker of optical

instruments, also an alchemist. Tschirnhaus was a man of education

and distinction, and was held in much esteem by Prince Furstenburg

as well as by the Elector. He very sensibly said to Bottgher,

still in fear of the gallows—“If you can’t make gold, try and do

something else; make porcelain.”

 

The alchemist acted on the hint, and began his experiments, working

night and day. He prosecuted his investigations for a long time

with great assiduity, but without success. At length some red

clay, brought to him for the purpose of making his crucibles, set

him on the right track. He found that this clay, when submitted to

a high temperature, became vitrified and retained its shape; and

that its texture resembled that of porcelain, excepting in colour

and opacity. He had in fact accidentally discovered red porcelain,

and he proceeded to manufacture it and sell it as porcelain.

 

Bottgher was, however, well aware that the white colour was an

essential property of true porcelain; and he therefore prosecuted

his experiments in the hope of discovering the secret. Several

years thus passed, but without success; until again accident stood

his friend, and helped him to a knowledge of the art of making

white porcelain. One day, in the year 1707, he found his perruque

unusually heavy, and asked of his valet the reason. The answer

was, that it was owing to the powder with which the wig was

dressed, which consisted of a kind of earth then much used for hair

powder. Bottgher’s quick imagination immediately seized upon the

idea. This white earthy powder might possibly be the very earth of

which he was in search—at all events the opportunity must not be

let slip of ascertaining what it really was. He was rewarded for

his painstaking care and watchfulness; for he found, on experiment,

that the principal ingredient of the hair-powder consisted of

kaolin, the want of which had so long formed an insuperable

difficulty in the way of his inquiries.

 

The discovery, in Bottgher’s intelligent hands, led to great

results, and proved of far greater importance than the discovery of

the philosopher’s stone would have been. In October, 1707, he

presented his first piece of porcelain to the Elector, who was

greatly pleased with it; and it was resolved that Bottgher should

be furnished with the means necessary for perfecting his invention.

Having obtained a skilled workman from Delft, he began to TURN

porcelain with great success. He now entirely abandoned alchemy

for pottery, and inscribed over the door of his workshop this

distich:-

 

“Es machte Gott, der grosse Schopfer,

Aus einem Goldmacher einen Topfer.” {16}

 

Bottgher, however, was still under strict surveillance, for fear

lest he should communicate his secret to others or escape the

Elector’s control. The new workshops and furnaces which were

erected for him, were guarded by troops night and day, and six

superior officers were made responsible for the personal security

of the potter.

 

Bottgher’s further experiments with his new furnaces proving very

successful, and the porcelain which he manufactured being found to

fetch large prices, it was next determined to establish a Royal

Manufactory of porcelain. The manufacture of delft ware was known

to have greatly enriched Holland. Why should not the manufacture

of porcelain equally enrich the Elector? Accordingly, a decree

went forth, dated the 23rd of January, 1710, for the establishment

of “a large manufactory of porcelain” at the Albrechtsburg in

Meissen. In this decree, which was translated into Latin, French,

and Dutch, and distributed by the Ambassadors of the Elector at all

the European Courts, Frederick Augustus set forth that to promote

the welfare of Saxony, which had suffered much through the Swedish

invasion, he had “directed his attention to the subterranean

treasures (unterirdischen Schatze)” of the country, and having

employed some able persons in the investigation, they had succeeded

in manufacturing “a sort of red vessels (eine Art rother Gefasse)

far superior to the Indian terra sigillata;” {17} as also “coloured

ware and plates (buntes Geschirr und Tafeln) which may be cut,

ground, and polished, and are quite equal to Indian vessels,” and

finally that “specimens of white porcelain (Proben von weissem

Porzellan)” had already been obtained, and it was hoped that this

quality, too, would soon be manufactured in considerable

quantities. The royal decree concluded by inviting “foreign

artists and handicraftmen” to come to Saxony and engage as

assistants in the new factory, at high wages, and under the

patronage of the King. This royal edict probably gives the best

account of the actual state of Bottgher’s invention at the time.

 

It has been stated in German publications that Bottgher, for the

great services rendered by him to the Elector and to Saxony, was

made Manager of the Royal Porcelain Works, and further promoted to

the dignity of Baron. Doubtless he deserved these honours; but his

treatment was of an altogether different character, for it was

shabby, cruel, and inhuman. Two royal officials, named Matthieu

and Nehmitz, were put over his head as directors of the factory,

while he himself only held the position of foreman of potters, and

at the same time was detained the King’s prisoner. During the

erection of the factory at Meissen, while his assistance was still

indispensable, he was conducted by soldiers to and from Dresden;

and even after the works were finished, he was locked up nightly in

his room. All this preyed upon his mind, and in repeated letters

to the King he sought to obtain mitigation of his fate. Some of

these letters are very touching. “I will devote my whole soul to

the art of making porcelain,” he writes on one occasion, “I will do

more than any inventor ever did before; only give me liberty,

liberty!”

 

To these appeals, the King turned a deaf ear. He was ready to

spend money and grant favours; but liberty he would not give. He

regarded Bottgher as his slave. In this position, the persecuted

man kept on working for some time, till, at the end of a year or

two, he grew negligent. Disgusted with the world and with himself,

he took to drinking. Such is the force of example, that it no

sooner became known that Bottgher had betaken himself to this vice,

than the greater number of the workmen at the Meissen factory

became drunkards too. Quarrels and fightings without end were the

consequence, so that the troops were frequently called upon to

interfere and keep peace among the “Porzellanern,” as they were

nicknamed. After a while, the whole of them, more than three

hundred, were shut up in the Albrechtsburg, and treated as

prisoners of state.

 

Bottgher at last fell seriously ill, and in May, 1713, his

dissolution was hourly expected. The King, alarmed at losing so

valuable a slave, now gave him permission to take carriage exercise

under a guard; and, having somewhat recovered, he was allowed

occasionally to go to Dresden. In a letter written by the King in

April, 1714, Bottgher was promised his full liberty; but the offer

came too late. Broken in body and mind, alternately working and

drinking, though with occasional gleams of nobler intention, and

suffering under constant ill-health, the result of his enforced

confinement, Bottgher lingered on for a few years more, until death

freed him from his sufferings on the 13th March, 1719, in the

thirty-fifth year of his age. He was buried AT NIGHT—as if he had

been a dog—in the Johannis Cemetery of Meissen. Such was the

treatment and such the unhappy end, of one of Saxony’s greatest

benefactors.

 

The porcelain manufacture immediately opened up an important source

of public revenue, and it became so productive to the Elector of

Saxony, that his example was shortly after followed by most

European monarchs. Although soft porcelain had been made