After many painful efforts, the poor glass painter had succeeded in producing a substance which he believed to be white enamel.  He spread it on a number of earthenware pots which he had made, and placed them in his furnace.  The extremities to which he was reduced to supply heat to the furnace are set forth in his own words:  “Having,” he says, “covered the new pieces with the said enamel, I put them into the furnace, still keeping the fire at its height; but thereupon occurred to me a new misfortune which caused great mortification, namely, that the wood having failed me, I was forced to burn the palings which maintained the boundaries of my garden; which being burnt also, I was forced to burn the tables and the flooring of my house, to cause the melting of the second composition.  I suffered an anguish that I cannot speak, for I was quite exhausted and dried up by the heat of the furnace.  Further, to console me, I was the object of mockery; and even those from whom solace was due ran crying through the town that I was burning my floors, and in this way my credit was taken from me, and I was regarded as a madman.

“Others said that I was laboring to make false money, which was a scandal under which I pined away, and slipped with bowed head through the streets like a man put to shame.  No one gave me consolation, but, on the contrary, men jested at me, saying, ’It was right for him to die of hunger, seeing that he had left off following his trade!’ All these things assailed my ears when I passed through the street; but for all that, there still remained some hope which encouraged and sustained me, inasmuch as the last trials had turned out tolerably well; and thereafter I thought that I knew enough to get my own living, although I was far enough from that (as you shall hear afterward).”

This latest experiment filled him with joy, for he had at last discovered the secret of the enamel.  But there was yet much to be learned, and several years more of extreme poverty and suffering had to be endured before his labors were rewarded with complete success.  But it came at last in overflowing measure, as it almost invariably does to those who are willing to work and suffer privation and persevere to the end.

His work as a potter brought Palissy fame and riches.  At the invitation of Catherine de’ Medici, wife of King Henry II of France, he removed to Paris.  He established a workshop in the vicinity of the royal Palace of the Tuileries, and was thereafter known as “Bernard of the Tuileries.”  He was employed by the king and queen and some of the greatest nobles of France to embellish their palaces and gardens with the products of his beautiful art.

Notwithstanding his lack of schooling, Bernard Palissy was one of the most learned men of his day.  He founded a Museum of Natural History, wrote valuable books on natural science, and for several years delivered lectures on the same subject.  His lectures were attended by the most advanced scholars of Paris, who were astonished at the extent and accuracy of his knowledge of nature.  But he was as modest as he was wise and good, and when people wondered at his learning, he would reply with the most unaffected simplicity, “I have had no other book than the sky and the earth, known to all.”