Berlin chemist, discovered that it was possible to extract sugar from
beets. There was only a little sugar in the beet root then, some six per
cent., and what he got out was dirty and bitter. One of his pupils in
1801 set up a beet sugar factory near Breslau under the patronage of the
King of Prussia, but the industry was not a success until Napoleon took
it up and in 1810 offered a prize of a million francs for a practical
process. How the French did make fun of him for this crazy notion! In a
comic paper of that day you will find a cartoon of Napoleon in the
nursery beside the cradle of his son and heir, the King of Rome--known
to the readers of Rostand as l'Aiglon. The Emperor is squeezing the
juice of a beet into his coffee and the nurse has put a beet into the
mouth of the infant King, saying: "Suck, dear, suck. Your father says
it's sugar."

In like manner did the wits ridicule Franklin for fooling with
electricity, Rumford for trying to improve chimneys, Parmentier for
thinking potatoes were fit to eat, and Jefferson for believing that
something might be made of the country west of the Mississippi. In all
ages ridicule has been the chief weapon of conservatism. If you want to
know what line human progress will take in the future read the funny
papers of today and see what they are fighting. The satire of every
century from Aristophanes to the latest vaudeville has been directed
against those who are trying to make the world wiser or better, against
the teacher and the preacher, the scientist and the reformer.

In spite of the ridicule showered upon it the despised beet year by year
gained in sweetness of heart. The percentage of sugar rose from six to
eighteen and by improved methods of extraction became finally as pure
and palatable as the sugar of the cane. An acre of German beets produces
more sugar than an acre of Louisiana cane. Continental Europe waxed