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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Palissy the Huguenot Potter, by C. L.
Brightwell
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Palissy the Huguenot Potter
A True Tale
Author: C. L. Brightwell
Release Date: February 16, 2014 [eBook #44930]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PALISSY THE HUGUENOT POTTER***
</pre>
<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/fp.jpg">
<img alt=
". . . our artist was struck dumb with admiration"
title=
". . . our artist was struck dumb with admiration"
src="images/fp.jpg" />
</a></p>
<h1>PALISSY<br />
<span class="GutSmall">THE</span><br />
HUGUENOT POTTER.</h1>
<p style="text-align: center">A TRUE TALE.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br
/>
C. L. BRIGHTWELL</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<div class="gapshortline"> </div>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="GutSmall">PHILADELPHIA:</span><br />
<span class="GutSmall">PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF
PUBLICATION</span><br />
<span class="GutSmall">AND SABBATH SCHOOL WORK,</span><br />
<span class="GutSmall">No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET.</span></p>
<h2><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
3</span>PREFACE.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> readers of this little book may
ask, with great propriety, “What is meant by a true
tale?” and the answer to this question shall be very
explicit, as it is of great importance that there should be no
misunderstanding as to the matter of truth or fiction.</p>
<p>What is known of the history of Palissy is gathered from his
writings, which are written in the form of dialogues, and into
which he has incorporated short narratives of the events of his
own life, and of the occurrences which took place under his own
eyes. These, and a few incidental notices of him in
contemporary writers, are the sources whence the materials for
his life have been gathered.</p>
<p>In the present narrative, I have attempted to give an account
of the facts which Palissy has himself recorded, weaving them
into a tale. For instance, he tells us, in one of his
treatises, of his troubles, and experiments, and sorrows, during
the time he was engaged in discovering the white enamel; and he
gives, now and then, a peep at his domestic life, showing how his
poor children drooped and died; how he became burdened with debt;
that his <a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
4</span>family and friends reproached him for his long and
unprofitable toil; and that his neighbors joined in their
invectives against his folly; also, that when reduced to the
greatest straits, he obtained help from a friendly publican.</p>
<p>So with the religious events narrated: they are given from his
work, “Recepte Vèritable, par laquelle tous les
hommes de la France,” etc. <a name="citation4"></a><a
href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a> All that has
been done is to arrange these details in order, and give them a
narrative form. There is not one event in this narrative
which did not actually occur, although it was not possible to
give literally a Life of Palissy.</p>
<p>The principal aim has been to call attention to his religious
character, which has been but slightly noticed in the accounts of
those who have recorded the achievements of this great genius, as
an artist in earth. He was, in fact, a French Huguenot: one
of the glorious band of martyrs for the faith of Jesus; and he
has told us, in a touching and simple manner, what he saw and
heard in those days of persecution and trial.</p>
<p>The plan adopted seemed not only legitimate, but the one which
could best render the work attractive and pleasing to those for
whose instruction it is designed. They may be assured that
the sentiments and doings of Palissy are here truly recorded, and
if they take his example as an incentive to earnest, patient, and
unwearying application—above all, if they adopt his high
standard and the motive which sanctified all his work—they
will not read this “True Tale” in vain.</p>
<p><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 5</span>I cannot
conclude without expressing the great obligations I am under to
Mr. Morley’s “Life of Palissy,” which has been
my guide throughout. Of his admirable translations of the
various passages he has given from the original treatises, I have
gladly availed myself, finding it impossible to improve upon
them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Norwich</span>, <i>November</i>, 1858.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page7"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 7</span>
<a href="images/p7.jpg">
<img alt=
"The Town of Saintes"
title=
"The Town of Saintes"
src="images/p7.jpg" />
</a></p>
<h2><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>CHAPTER
I.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“And unto one he gave five talents, to
another two, and to another one; to every man according to his
several ability.”—<span class="smcap">Matthew</span>
xxv. 15</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the south-west of France is the
ancient town of Saintes, the capital of Saintonge, charmingly
situated on the river Charente, and once the most flourishing
city of all Guienne. It is a very ancient place, and was,
in the time of the Romans, one of the principal cities of
Aquitaine. There are still some slight remains of an
amphitheatre, and a fine Roman bridge spans the waters of the
Charente, bearing a Latin inscription (now illegible) upon its
frieze. Placed at the foot of a mountain, the aspect of the
town from a distance is impressive, but its streets are narrow
and winding, and its houses low and ill-built. In olden
times it boasted an ancient cathedral dedicated to St. Peter, and
said to have <a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
10</span>been built by Charlemagne; but only the bell-tower now
remains, and, indeed, most of the antiquities in which the town
once abounded must be named among the things that were. A
great deal of this destruction is attributed to the religious
struggles which were carried on in Saintes with especial
fierceness, and of which some record will be found interwoven in
the story of Palissy the Potter.</p>
<p>It was in the year 1538, one morning in May, that the people
of the old narrow-streeted town we have described, were surprised
to find a strange family had arrived among them. The
new-comers were a young couple who brought with them an infant in
arms, and presently established themselves in a small house on
the outskirts of the city, the frontage of which looked upon one
of the steep crooked streets, and presented to view a workshop,
in which were displayed various objects calculated to attract the
eyes of passers-by. Above all, at the entrance of the door
was placed the figure of a dog, modelled and painted in such
life-like fashion, that many a time was this sturdy-looking
guardian of the threshold challenged to single combat by the
perplexed dogs of the good town.</p>
<p>It was not long before the inhabitants of Saintes learned that
the head of this small family was named Bernard Palissy, and that
he desired to obtain occupation among them as a surveyor, a
painter, or a worker in glass. In the former of these
occupations they soon discovered that he possessed <a
name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>considerable
talent. He had good knowledge of geometry, and manual skill
in the employment of the rule and compass, and these enabled him
to measure and plan sites for houses and gardens, and to make
maps of landed property; all which might turn to account in
disputes as to questions of boundaries, a source of constant
litigation formerly, in most countries. But, unfortunately,
land measuring came only now and then, and on the arts of
painting and glass-working, he must chiefly depend for
support. The neighbours learned, too, after a while, to
look with favourable eyes upon the young artist, whose spirit and
vivacity attracted them, and seemed always to shed a sunshine
around his home; for Palissy was a man full of hope at all times;
and, even in the darkest hour of evil fortune he still looked
cheerfully onward. At the time when he settled in Saintes
he was about thirty years old. Of his early history but few
particulars are known; he was born in the diocese of Agen, of
parents so poor that they were unable to give him the advantages
of a liberal education. However, he learned to read and
write, and from his early youth showed a turn for drawing and
designing, and speedily attained a degree of skill which secured
him employment in painting on glass and drawing plans.</p>
<p>It was by the small funds he procured in this way that he
supported himself during his travels through the principal
provinces of France, which he traversed, everywhere gazing, with
youthful eagerness, <a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
12</span>on the works of God and the productions of human
skill.</p>
<p>For nine or ten years he wandered on; sometimes pausing, and
taking up his temporary residence in places where he found
employment. Thus, at Tarbes, the capital of Bigorre, he
dwelt some years, and in sundry other towns be sojourned
awhile. It is evident that those were years of education to
his young and indefatigably inquiring spirit. He was
storing up knowledge which was afterwards turned to excellent
account. He investigated the arts of life and studied the
monuments of antiquity, observing the local customs and habits of
the places he visited, acquiring dexterity of hand, while, at the
same time, he enlarged his mind. But the study in which he
most delighted was that of natural history. The great
interest he took in the various qualities of the earths, rocks,
sands, and waters, on account of the relation they bore to his
calling, had made him a naturalist. Everywhere he employed
his leisure hours in wandering over the woods and meadows, and
thus he studied that wondrous book men call the Book of
Nature.</p>
<p>It is time we visit the humble dwelling of the man of genius,
who, his wanderings now over, has quietly settled down, and is
entering on the earnest business of life, full of that spiritual
sense of power which begets hopefulness, and, at the same time,
simple-hearted and loving as a child. Bernard’s
studio was no other than a small out-house, in <a
name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>which he
wrought at his occupation, and beyond which was a little garden,
filled with the choice plants and herbs he met with in his
rambles through the woods and pasture lands around Saintes.
The evening hour has just set in, bringing with it rest and
relaxation, and the artist has laid aside his tools and is
fondling the little Nicole, his eldest born; while his eyes
glance lovingly towards his young wife, who, delicate and
slightly formed, looks but ill-fitted to endure the troubles of
life—we must add, the troubles peculiar to the wife of a
genius.</p>
<p>For the present, however, the evil days have not come upon
her, and she replies with looks of pleasure to his fond
words. He is telling her of the glorious ramble he has had
in the early morning, and of the treasures he has seen and
gathered. A large earthen pot stands on his work-bench,
filled with flowers and foliage, and his pencil has been
diligently occupied in imitating the bright colors and elegant
forms of these wild plants, with the minute accuracy of a
naturalist. Lisette has opened his portfolio, and is
turning over the loose sketches it contains; butterflies,
lizards, beetles, and many other wild creatures are
there—all drawn from nature, and true to the smallest
tracery-work upon the insects’ wings. To her
exclamation of delight he answers, “Truly, it is a great
recreation to those who will contemplate admiringly the wondrous
works of nature, and methinks I could find nothing better than to
employ one’s-self in the art of agriculture, <a
name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>and to
glorify God, and to admire him in his marvels. As I walked
along the avenues, and under the foliage of the chestnuts, I
heard the murmuring waters of a brook which passes at the foot of
the hill; and on the other side the voices of the young birds
warbling among the trees; then there came to my memory that 104th
Psalm, where the prophet says, ‘He sendeth the springs into
the valleys, which run among the hills;’ also, he says,
‘By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their
habitation, which sing among the branches.’”</p>
<p>The mother took the infant from her husband, and began
undressing him for bed, while the father smiled and went on, half
soliloquizing, “When I had walked through the avenue, I
turned toward the side, where the woods and mountains are, and
there I received a great contentment, and much joyous pleasure,
for I saw the squirrels gathering the fruits and leaping from
branch to branch, with many pretty looks and gestures; further
on, I beheld the rooks busy at their repast; and again, under the
apple trees I found certain hedgehogs, which had rolled
themselves up, and having thrust their little hairs, or needles,
through the said apples, went so burdened. I saw likewise
many things narrated in that Psalm, as the conies, playing and
bounding along the mountains, near certain holes and pits which
the Sovereign Architect has made for them: and when suddenly the
animals caught sight of an enemy, they knew well how to retire
into the place <a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
15</span>which was ordained to be their dwelling. Then I
exclaimed, ‘O Lord, how manifold are thy works; in wisdom
hast thou made them all.’ Such sights as these have
made me so great a lover of the fields, that it seems to me there
are no treasures on earth so precious, or which ought to be held
in such great esteem, although they are the most
despised.”</p>
<p>At that moment Lisette, who had risen from the bench on which
they had seated themselves, looking toward the palings of their
garden, perceived a tall figure leaning there. She directed
the attention of her husband to this person, and then retired
into the chamber with her infant. A few moments after,
Bernard was in eager conversation with the stranger. They
spoke in low accents, as though anxious not to be
overheard. “Let us go down to the field
together,” said Palissy; “I must speak with thee,
master Philibert, where our words may be freely uttered;”
and presently the two had disappeared in the twilight.</p>
<p>This Master Philibert Hamelin, who was so eagerly accosted by
our artist, was one of those “poor and unlearned
men,” whose names were chronicled in the list of
“heretics,” as infected with the taint of disloyalty
to the Roman Catholic Church. At the time when Palissy came
forth into life, the minds of men were greatly agitated by those
religious struggles which convulsed Europe during the sixteenth
century. From Germany the desire of spiritual emancipation
had spread abroad, and before <a name="page16"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 16</span>long the fire which burned with such
fierceness during the terrible wars of the Huguenots, was kindled
in France. Examples of religious persecution, cruel
punishments of heretics, and expressions of much discontent on
matters of faith, must, without fail, have often attracted the
notice of Palissy during his years of travel.</p>
<p>As we have already intimated, Saintes became a stronghold of
the new opinions. Many “heretics,” and among
them Calvin himself, the great Reformer, had taken refuge in
Saintonge—the very district in which the home of Palissy
was afterwards fixed. He dwelt there in the house of a
young man, whose friends were wealthy; and this youth persuaded
Calvin, while in his retirement there, to write Christian sermons
and remonstrances, which he then caused to be preached by
curés in the neighbourhood. These curés were
“certain Reformed monks,” who, having adopted the new
tenets, visited among the people, teaching them secretly, and
gradually instructing them, so that by degrees the eyes of many
were opened to see the errors of the Romish Church.</p>
<p>Among those who had eagerly embraced the instructions of
Calvin was Hamelin, who, consequently, having incurred suspicion
of heresy, escaped from Saintes, and journeyed to Geneva, at that
time the head quarters of the French Reformers, where he acquired
clearer knowledge of divine truth, and increased
earnestness. Zealous to communicate to <a
name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>others the
faith he had adopted, he wandered from place to place through the
provinces of his native land, exerting himself wherever he went
to incite men to have ministers, and to gather themselves into
church communion. So eager was he to spread the gospel,
that he took up with the trade of a printer, and printed Bibles,
which he hawked about in the towns and villages. In the
course of his journeyings, he passed through one of the towns in
which Palissy had taken up his temporary abode. The spirit
of the young artist was stirred within him as he listened to the
animated exhortations of Hamelin, who, having gathered together a
little flock of some seven or eight auditors, laboured to win
them to God: and exhorted them to meet together for prayer and
mutual instruction.</p>
<p>His teaching fell like the dew upon the heart of the young
man, and he eagerly sought out the preacher and took counsel with
him. From that time the persecuted Huguenot commanded the
love and reverence of Palissy, who never spoke of him but in
terms of respect and affection.</p>
<p>At the period of which we are about to speak, although the
persecutions had not yet reached Saintonge, the struggle had
begun in many towns by the tumultuous rising of the people, and
severe punishments were inflicted upon all who joined in these
outbreaks. Emissaries of the ecclesiastics were keenly on
the watch for suspected characters, and it was at the risk of
fine, imprisonment, and death, that <a name="page18"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 18</span>the proceedings of men like Hamelin
were carried on. Nor was it without serious danger of
compromising his own safety that Palissy cultivated the
friendship of a man so attainted, and of this he was well
aware. It was, however, no part of his character to flinch
from trouble or peril in such a cause.</p>
<p>It will be unnecessary to relate what passed between the two
friends on the evening in which we have introduced Palissy to our
readers. The visit of Hamelin was secret and hurried.
He had come for the purpose of bringing to the poor people he had
formerly taught around Saintes, three teachers, who, having been
convinced of the errors of the Romish Church, had been
constrained to take flight and exile themselves. Having
recommended them to the friendly notice of Bernard, and taken
counsel with him as to certain precautionary measures, Hamelin
hastened to quit the neighbourhood of a place in which he was too
well known to venture himself openly. Some years passed
away before these two met again.</p>
<p>Shall we follow our artist homeward, as slowly and
thoughtfully he retraced his steps thither? He was
pondering, in the earnestness of his heart, an idea which was
indeed the mainspring of all his intellectual and moral
activity. Again and again in his writings does he solemnly
recur to this idea, and in all the long years of his toil and
suffering to acquire the skill which was to render him <a
name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>immortal in
the history of art; this was his incentive and spur. The
parable of the talents—the duty of every man to turn to
account the powers and gifts he has received from God—was
the touchstone by which Bernard tried his work.</p>
<p>His own words, written long after, will best close this
opening chapter. “Though there be some who will at no
time hear mention of the holy Scripture, yet so it is that I have
found nothing better than to pursue the counsel of God; his
edicts, statutes, and ordinances; and in regarding what might be
his will, I have found that he has commanded his heirs that they
should eat bread by the labour of their bodies, and that they
should multiply the talents which he has committed to them.
Considering which, I have not been willing to hide in the ground
those talents it has pleased him to allot me; but to cause them
to yield profit and increase to him from whom I have received
them.”</p>
<h2><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
20</span>CHAPTER II.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it
with thy might.”</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Eccles</span>.
ix. 10.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">For</span> a considerable time after he
had settled at Saintes, Palissy went on surveying, painting, and
designing, working industriously, and earning a competent, though
slender, income for the support of his household—an
increasing one—for he had now another baby to kiss, as well
as a child upon his arms. Conscious of his own strength,
and dissatisfied with labour which produced only food, he
naturally felt eager to accomplish something better than he had
yet done.</p>
<p>There is often a long period, during which a man of genius is
occupied in gathering together materials, unconscious what use
they shall eventually serve; but the turning-point of his history
comes, and suddenly, perhaps through a passing and merely
accidental circumstance, he receives an impetus which directs him
on to the fulfilment of his career. It was thus in the case
of Palissy. Some two years after the events related in the
preceding chapter, Bernard had received a little commission from
one of the great seigneurs who lived in the neighbourhood of
Saintes. He was a man of much taste in <a
name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>the fine
arts, and had in his possession some choice specimens of ancient
Moorish pottery. After showing these to Palissy (who had
come to the château for directions), the nobleman, going to
the cabinet from which they had been taken, drew out an earthen
cup, turned and enamelled with so much beauty, that, at the sight
of it, our artist was struck dumb with admiration. He knew
nothing of pottery, he had no knowledge of clays, and he was
aware of the fact that there was no man in all France who could
make enamels.</p>
<p>This last thought acted, perchance, as a stimulus to his
ambition. However that might be, the idea instantly took
possession of his mind that he would make enamels. They
could be made, for here was a specimen. To be the only man
in the land who could produce these beautiful vases would be not
only to secure an abundant supply for the wants of his family,
but it would be a triumph of art—a riddle of deep interest
to solve, and an occupation after his heart.</p>
<p>That evening he called his wife to him, and told her what he
had seen, and how his heart was set upon learning to make
enamels. The poor woman saw by his beaming countenance that
he was pleased; she knew that he loved her and their children,
and she said not a word to discourage him, although he plainly
told her, with that truthfulness which was as the very breath of
his nostrils, that his first experiments must be made at great
cost. “There will <a name="page22"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 22</span>be the loss of my time from my wonted
occupation; besides that, I must purchase drugs and make me
furnaces, and all, at first, a clear outlay, without fruit.
I shall have many drawbacks, and it may be a weary while before I
master this art. I shall be as a man that gropes his way in
the dark, for I have no knowledge of clays, nor have I ever seen
earth baked, nor do I know of what materials enamels are
composed.” His wife urged that he had better rest
content with diligence in his own calling, and on her pale face
came a blush of pleasure and pride as she looked up at him, who
was already, in her esteem, a perfect artist. But he heeded
not her words, save that he tenderly bade her be of good
cheer. Poverty and pain would have mattered little to him
personally; and had he been free from household cares, he would,
in all likelihood, have wandered forth among the potters, and
learned all that could be gathered of their work from them.
But he was bound to home and its cares and duties, and so, alone,
unaided, and without sympathy, must he work. Nothing
daunted, however, by these drawbacks, his resolve was
taken—to complete his invention, or perish in the
attempt.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p22.jpg">
<img alt=
"Palissy devoutly opened the sacred volume"
title=
"Palissy devoutly opened the sacred volume"
src="images/p22.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>Before retiring to rest that night, Palissy, as his custom
was, devoutly opened the sacred volume; and turning to the
thirty-fifth chapter of Exodus, he read how God called by name
Bezaleel, the son of Uri, and filled him with the Spirit of God,
in <a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>wisdom,
in understanding, in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship,
and to devise curious works, in gold, in silver, in brass, and in
cutting of stones, and in carving of wood, in all manner of
cunning work. “Then I reflected,” said he,
“that God had gifted me with some knowledge of drawing, and
I took courage in my heart, and besought him to give me wisdom
and skill.”</p>
<p>Palissy lost no time in setting to work. He began by
making a furnace which he thought most likely to suit his
purpose, and having bought a quantity of earthen pots, and broken
them into fragments, he covered these with various chemical
compounds which he had pounded and ground, and which he proposed
to melt at furnace heat. His hope was, that of all these
mixtures, some one or other might run over the pottery in such a
way as to afford him at least a hint towards the composition of
white enamel, which he had been told was the basis of all
others. Alas! his first experiment was but the beginning of
an endless series of disappointments and losses, while, for many
long months and years he wrought with fruitless labor. But
we must not anticipate. Happily the ardent spirit of our
artist suffered him not easily to succumb under difficulties;
nay, it even seemed to gather new energy from the struggle, as,
with all the fire of love and all the strength of will, he, every
day, renewed his experiments, and blundered on with <a
name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>cheerful
hope. It has well been said, “Ideas become passions
in the breasts of poets and artists.”</p>
<p>Many months have now passed in this way; and the little family
gathering around Palissy’s humble hearth begin to show
symptoms that all is not so flourishing as when we first saw
them. Lisette looks thin and worn, and there is a shadow
upon her brow. As she goes down the garden walk to call her
husband to his mid-day meal, you see her garments are poor and
scanty, and she has no longer the trim look of conscious
comeliness about her. By her side, and clinging to her
gown, is a delicate creature, whose pale face tells a sorrowful
tale of childish suffering, and the infant she is carrying looks
sallow and feeble. The furnace and shed where Palissy is at
work are built at the end of the garden, as far as possible from
the house. Close by, is the road, and beyond it the fields
and waste lands; there was no sheltering wall or enclosure near,
and when the storm and winds of winter blew, nothing could be
more bleak and comfortless. Palissy has drawn a doleful
picture of this scene of his labors. “I was every
night,” he says, “at the mercy of the rains and
winds, without help or companionship, except from the owls that
screeched on one side, and the dogs that howled upon the other;
and oftentimes I had nothing dry upon me, because of the rains
that fell.” At the present time, however, it is
looking cozy and picturesque, for the season is spring, and a
bright sun is shining <a name="page25"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 25</span>overhead. There is a glad
sound, too, proceeding from the shed, over which its owner has
trained a cluster-rose, whose tendrils have interwoven themselves
among the reeds, and are putting forth their blossoms. It
is the voice of Palissy, chanting in clear sonorous tones, the
Psalm which Luther loved so well, and which we sing in the
tuneful strains of our unequalled psalmodist—</p>
<blockquote><p>“God is the refuge of his saints,<br />
When storms of sharp distress invade.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And the little Nicole, who is busily occupied in mimic
pottery-work at the door of the shed, chimes in with his small
voice, and beats the time with his wooden spade.
Lisette’s face brightened as she listened, and with
cheerful tones, she summoned Bernard indoors, and bade the little
boy lead his sister back.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding Palissy’s psalmody and the cheerful face
he wore, matters were far from satisfactory at this peculiar
juncture. In fact, he had just undergone a heavy
disappointment, and was secretly making up his mind to a step
which it cost him a grievous heartache to have recourse to.
Seeing that all his experiments with his own furnace had proved
failures, he determined to adopt a new scheme, and send the
compositions to be tested in the kiln of some potter. For
this purpose he bought a large stock of crockery, which according
to custom, he broke into small fragments; three or four hundreds
of which he covered with various mixtures, <a
name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>and sent to a
pottery some league and a half off, requesting the workmen to
bake this strange batch with their own vessels. They
consented readily to let the amateur potter try his experiments;
but alas! when the operation was complete, and the trial pieces
were drawn out, they proved absolutely worthless. Not the
smallest appearance of the longed-for enamel was to be seen on
any of them. The cause of the failure was a secret, at the
time, to the grievously disappointed Bernard, and he returned
home heavily discouraged, for he knew that his wife and children
were deprived of many comforts they might have enjoyed, had he
continued steadily at his occupation of glass-working and
surveying. What was to be done? “Begin
afresh.” And so, again he fell to work, compounding
and grinding, and sending more batches to the same potters to be
baked as before. This he had continued to do time after
time, “with great cost, loss of time, confusion, and
sorrow.”</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p26.jpg">
<img alt=
". . the trial pieces were . . absolutely worthless"
title=
". . the trial pieces were . . absolutely worthless"
src="images/p26.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>At length a more than usually trying failure had occurred, and
many things combined to warn our artist that he must desist for a
season and procure some remunerative work. His home
resources were completely exhausted; while the home wants had
greatly multiplied, and he could not be blind to the sorrowful
looks of the woman he loved, nor indifferent to the necessities
of his babes.</p>
<p>Three years had been spent about this work, and, for the
present, he was no wiser than when he <a name="page27"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 27</span>began, and he resolved now to try his
hand at the old trades. His poor wife urged that food and
medicine must be thought of, and she lowered her voice as she
added that the doctor had yet to be paid for her confinement, and
for physicking their lost darling, whom he said he would soon
cure, notwithstanding, she pined and languished like a
frost-nipped flower, that fades away and dies. Poor mother!
the tears trickled down her cheeks at the thought; and for all
there were still three hungry little mouths to feed, she could
not be reconciled to the loss of one of her treasures. But
Palissy would not let her dwell upon this sorrow; he wiped away
the tears, and smilingly said, he had good news for her.
Yesterday, there had arrived in the town the commissioners
deputed by the king to establish the salt-tax in the district of
Saintonge; and it seems they had judged no man in the diocese
more competent than Bernard Palissy for the task of mapping the
islands and the countries surrounding all the salt marshes in
that part of the world. It was a profitable job, and would
occupy him many months.</p>
<p>This was, indeed, glad tidings for Lisette; and that night she
slept sweetly, and dreamed of her girlhood; for when the heart is
happy it suns itself in the memories of early days. Her
husband’s rest was broken and perturbed, for it pained him
deeply to give up the struggle which had cost him so much, before
he had justified his pertinacious efforts by success.</p>
<p><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>Perhaps
it was in reality advantageous to him, and tended to his eventual
success, that he was thus perforce constrained to taste an
interval of repose. When a man has been repeatedly foiled
it is well to cease from effort awhile, and to dismiss, if
possible, the subject which has occupied his thoughts too long
and too unremittingly.</p>
<p>Revolving in his mind such considerations, Palissy determined
wholly to cease from his labours in pursuit of the discovery on
which his heart was set, and “to comport himself as if he
were not desirous to dive any more into the secrets of
enamels.”</p>
<h2><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
29</span>CHAPTER III.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“Here is the patience of the saints; here
are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of
Jesus.”—<span class="smcap">Rev</span>. xiv. 12.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> the profitable task assigned him
by the commissioners of the gabelle (or tax), Palissy has left
some memorial in his spirited account of the salt marshes of
Saintonge. The work with which he was intrusted was to make
a plan of the district adjoining the western coast line, where
was the celebrated salt-marsh, which yielded the largest supply
of salt. At that time Saintonge was the chief source of
salt in France, until it was obtained more abundantly from
Brittany, and a large sum was gathered into the royal revenue
from the tax produced by this article. But with all the
skill and energy of taxation, difficulties and fraud still
perplexed and threatened the tax receivers; and in the year 1543,
Francis I, after trying various means for enforcing the payment
of the gabelle, determined on a new and more stringent system, in
consequence of which it became necessary that an accurate survey
should be taken and new maps prepared.</p>
<p>What chiefly interests us in this matter of the surveying is
the fact that the islands Oléron, Allevert, and
Marepènes—called the Saintonic Isles—which <a
name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>adjoin and
form part of this marshy district, were a favourite resort for
the persecuted refugees, who brought the Reformed tenets into
Saintonge. These districts being remote from the public
roads, in fact being an intricate labyrinth of marshes, afforded
a safe hiding-place, and there several “Reformed
monks” had established themselves; some taking to a little
trade, others keeping village-schools, and finding sundry means
of gaining a livelihood, without being known. As it was
impossible for large ships to approach the low flat coast, one of
the chief difficulties in ordering the marshes was to form
channels of communication by which the salt made on them might be
conveyed to the open sea. An immense amount of money and
labour had been expended in the construction of dykes, canals, or
passages—of which there was a perfect net-work, extending
many miles—to afford the means of bringing up small barques
or vessels, which thus penetrated the flat country, and conveyed
the salt from thence. So intricate was this labyrinthine
communication, that a stranger inclosed therein without a guide,
would have been wholly unable to thread his way, or extricate
himself from their meshes. During the winter season, all
these marshes were flooded, in order that the clay which formed
the foundation of the dykes or canals, might be protected by the
water from the destructive bite of the frost; and thus, for a
considerable part of the year, all communication was blocked up,
or wholly cut off. What <a name="page31"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 31</span>an admirable place of refuge must
this district have afforded to men hunted like partridges upon
the mountains! Accordingly here the three refugees brought
by Hamelin, together with many others similarly circumstanced,
had found shelter: men these, whose guileless lives and active
charity commended them to the esteem of the poor peasants among
whom they had sought a home. They visited in their
cottages, ministered, as best they could, to their wants, and
ventured by degrees to promulgate those spiritual truths, for the
sake of which they had suffered the loss of all worldly goods,
and were prepared to yield life itself. At first their
instructions were cautiously given. They spoke in parables,
and with hidden meaning, until they were assured they should not
be betrayed. Slowly, but steadily, the leaven had begun to
work, and it was shortly after Palissy had completed his task
(which involved no slight labour, and occupied him more than a
year), that a report came to the ears of the bishop of Saintes,
that the place was full of Lutherans, whom it was highly
desirable to extirpate without delay.</p>
<p>The devil never wants for agents to execute his malicious
purposes; and at this juncture, a man of “perverse and evil
life,” named Collardeau (a fiscal attorney), set busily to
work to discover the lurking places of the heretics. In
that day, Saintes was an extensive and lucrative bishopric,
including more than 700 parishes, and its bishop was an august
personage, in whose veins flowed “the blood of St. <a
name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>Louis,”
Charles, cardinal of Bourbon, brother of the king of Navarre,
then twenty-three years of age. His fitting place was the
court, and, accordingly, there he abode, taking small note of the
heretical doings among the poor villagers of the Saintonic
isles.</p>
<p>With zeal worthy a good cause, Collardeau not only repeatedly
wrote to this high dignitary, preferring his charges, but
eventually crowned his energetic efforts by a journey to the
capital, and by these means he succeeded in obtaining a
commission from the bishop and the parliament of Bordeaux, with
ample funds for carrying out his designs. Thus furnished,
he proceeded to work upon the cupidity of certain judges, with
whom he tampered so successfully that he procured the arrest of
the preacher of St. Denis, a small town at the extremity of the
isle of Oléron, named brother Robin, a man of such metal,
that the principal anxiety had been to lay hand upon him by way
of example. Shortly after, another preacher named Nicole
was taken; and a few days later a similar fate overtook the
schoolmaster at Gimosac, a man much beloved of the inhabitants,
to whom he preached on Sundays. This last arrest keenly
touched the heart of Palissy. He knew and esteemed the good
brother, and had intrusted to his care his little Nicole, who had
been placed at the school of Gimosac from the time Bernard had
made his survey of the marshes. The poor child wept
bitterly as he described to his parents <a
name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>the grievous
parting his young eyes had witnessed; for, undaunted by the
threats of their cruel enemies, the poor villagers accompanied,
with prayers, tears, and lamentations, their beloved instructor
to the shores of their little island. Alas! there,
perforce, they parted never to meet on earth again.</p>
<p>It was the eve of St. John, the twenty-third of June, 1546,
when the citizens of Saintes beheld a strange and ominous scene,
the commencement of the horrors subsequently perpetrated within
the walls of their ancient town. The day, being a gala one,
was ushered in with music of every kind, while the whole
population, down to the lowest of the multitude, were decorated
with flowers. Old pitch-barrels and faggots, piled up along
the banks of the river, lay in readiness for the illuminations of
the evening, while games, dances, and banquets were the
diversions of the day. In the afternoon, there were to be
many hogsheads of claret delivered out, and a universal
merry-making prevailed. From an early hour crowds hastened
to perform their devotions at the shrine of the patron saint of
the city, carrying with them their votive offerings with which to
propitiate his favour.</p>
<p>Among the multitude who thronged the high street at noon, were
two men, one tall, and of a vigorous form, who looked with an air
of thoughtful concern around him. He was still in the prime
of manhood, and about his whole bearing there was a certain air
of energetic intelligence, while, ever <a name="page34"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 34</span>and anon, his eyes kindled with the
fire of enthusiasm; one saw at once he was a worker, and that
what his hands found to do would be done with all his
might. His companion was small and deformed, and would not
have awakened any interest save from the intense feeling visible
on his pale, sunken countenance. The two were approaching
the church of St. Eutropius, where the saint was displayed to the
admiring gaze of the people. On entering the sacred
edifice, all kneeled down reverently before a kind of cupboard
with an iron grating before it, and at an awful distance made
sundry genuflections, and uttered various prayers. At last,
the attendant priests opened the door of the closet where the
head of the saint was deposited, and displayed the treasure to
view. It would be difficult to conceive an object less
calculated to awaken feelings of true devotion than that
presented for adoration. It was very large, and formed
entirely of solid silver; the hair and an immense pair of
whiskers were gilt, and the shoulders were covered with lawn, and
decorated with glittering gems. All around were placed the
gifts brought by the deluded people, who ascribed the most
marvellous power of healing to this graven image. The
divinity was absolutely encircled with their votive
offerings. Group after group, alternately advancing and
retiring, filled up the church, and then emerged into the busy
streets to gaze upon the crowds of gaily bedecked revellers, and
gossip over the news of the day.</p>
<p><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>Close
to the gate of the church Palissy and his companion had taken
their stand, and were conversing together in low tones.
“Alas! I know the truth of the facts, and can assert them
for such,” said the former; “nay, I was myself
present when the three brethren admirably disputed and maintained
their religion in the presence of that false theologian,
Navières, who had himself, some months ago, begun to
detect errors, although now, conquered by his love of gain, he
stoutly upholds the contrary. Well did brother Robin know
how to reproach him with this to his face, and he flinched under
his words, but for all the right is with the poor heretics, as
they are called, the power is with their enemies, and they have
ever since languished in prison. After a while Robin fell
sick of pleurisy, and as it was feared he might die in his bed,
after all, they sent both for physician and apothecary, the
latter of whom is well known to me, having been but too frequent
a visitor in my afflicted household. The worthy man has
conveyed many a message from me to the brethren, and in more ways
than one has done them good service.” “And now
they are to be made a show of openly, like the servants of the
Lord in former times,” said Bernard’s comrade;
“it is a hateful thing when the wicked triumph, and when
the righteous are as the offscouring of all things.”
“Patience, my good Victor,” replied the sturdy
potter. “Let us see the end of these things. At
present we are but in the beginning of sorrows; <a
name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>I am of
opinion we must lay our account for trouble, and assure ourselves
that we shall have enemies and be persecuted, if, by direct
paths, we will follow and sustain the cause of God; for such are
the promises written originally in the Old and New
Testaments. Let us, then, take refuge under the shelter of
our protecting Chief and Captain the Lord Christ, who, in time
and place, will know how properly to avenge the wrongs his people
have suffered, and our sorrows.”</p>
<p>As he spoke, the sound of music was heard at a distance, and
presently a noisy rabble crowded the street, running, shouting,
pushing, and gesticulating. Then followed the procession,
whose approach had been heralded by the sound of drums, fifes,
and tabrets; horsemen gaily attired, rode, two and two, at a foot
pace; then flags and banners were borne aloft, and a troop of
priests, barefooted, and carrying torches, advanced at a slow
pace. A strange and melancholy sight was next presented to
the eyes of the by-standers; three men, caparisoned in green, and
bedizened with fluttering ribbons, walked, bridled like horses,
and each of them having an <i>apple</i> of iron fastened to the
bridle, which filled all the inside of his mouth. Thus
tortured and degraded, the three brethren, Robin, Nicole, and he
of Gimosac, were driven, like beasts, by their cruel enemy,
Collardeau, who triumphantly conducted them, in this wise, to a
scaffold, which was erected in the market-place, that they might
there be exposed to <a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
37</span>the public execration, as fools and madmen. This
done, they were returned to prison, thence to be conveyed to
Bordeaux to receive sentence of death.</p>
<p>“A hideous sight to behold,” said Palissy, drawing
a deep breath, as he looked after the three sufferers, whose sole
crime was that they had manfully upheld the cause of truth,
“and one that makes us marvel at the wondrous patience of
God. How long, O Lord, wilt thou leave thy chosen ones at
the mercy of those who cease not to torment them?”
This sorrowful exclamation had scarcely been uttered, when two
fellows who stood near fell to quarrelling and beating each
other. A ring was soon formed around them, and the
bystanders looking on cried, “Give it him well; strike as
though he were an heretic.” “Alas!” said
Palissy, “what frightful crimes will be committed when such
a spirit grows rife; already terrible things are done
elsewhere. I heard but yesterday, through one who shall be
nameless, that many are burned and destroyed in various ways, in
Paris and elsewhere. A peasant in the forest of Lyons, met
four men who were on their way to execution. He asked the
reason of their punishment, and having learned they were
Huguenots, claimed a place upon the cart, and went to the gallows
with them.”</p>
<p>That evening there occurred what Bernard called “an
admirable accident.” The three heretics had been
conveyed to their prison-house carefully guarded; and, above all,
Robin, who was the <a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
38</span>principal object of hatred, and whom it was designed to
put to death with the most cruelty. He was kept, with his
companions, heavily ironed, in a prison attached to the
bishop’s palace, and a sentry was placed to watch outside,
while a number of large village dogs were turned into the
court-yard. But, for all these precautions, Robin did not
despair. He had obtained a file (probably Palissy could
have told how he managed this,) and having filed off the irons
which were upon his legs, he gave the file to his
fellow-captives, and proceeded to scrape a hole through the
prison wall. But a strange accident here occurred. It
chanced that a number of hogsheads which had been emptied during
the fête, had been piled, one above another, against the
wall, and these being pushed down by the prisoner, in his efforts
to escape, fell with rumbling noise, and awakened the sleeping
sentry, who listened for a while, but hearing nothing further,
and overcome by the fumes of the liquor in which he had indulged
somewhat freely, relapsed into slumber. Bernard tells, in
his quaint manner, what next befell, thus: “Then the said
Robin went out into the court at the mercy of the dogs; however,
God had inspired him to take some bread, which he threw to the
said dogs, who were quiet as the lions of Daniel. It was so
ordered that he should find an open door, which led into the
garden, where, finding himself again shut up between certain
somewhat high walls, he perceived by the light of the moon, a
tall pear tree, close <a name="page39"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 39</span>enough to the outer wall, and having
mounted this, he perceived, on the outer side of the wall, a
chimney, to which he could leap easily enough.” He
was soon safe in the street, but, having never been in the town
before, he was at a loss how to proceed. In this dilemma,
the clever fugitive recalled to mind the names of the physician
and apothecary who had attended him, and went knocking from door
to door inquiring for their residence. He had contrived to
fasten his fetters to his leg, and carrying his dress about his
shoulders, had the adroitness to arrange it somewhat after the
costume of a footman, so that the people whom he roused were
deceived, and supposing it to be an urgent case of sickness, gave
him the necessary directions. In this manner he succeeded
in gaining the shelter of a friendly roof, and from thence was
conducted safely out of the town; nor was he again taken, though,
in the course of his perilous adventure, he had knocked at the
door of one of his principal enemies, who, in the morning,
offered a reward of fifty dollars for his recapture.</p>
<p>Alas, for Nicole and the kind-hearted schoolmaster of
Gimosac! Brother Robin would fain have had them accompany
him and share his risk, but they chose rather to remain in their
fetters. Seeing they had neither strength nor energy to
follow his example, he took a sorrowful leave of them, praying
with and consoling them, exhorting them to do valiantly, and to
meet death with courage. <a name="page40"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 40</span>Both perished in the flames a few
days after; one in the city of Saintes, and the other at
Libourne. The heart of Palissy was too full to suffer him
to detail the particulars of this event. It was the first
time the fires of persecution had blazed before his eyes; and as
he gazed upon the terrific sight, his soul was kindled with a
zeal unquenchable, and from that time the whole force of his
energy was upon the side of the Reformers.</p>
<h2><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
41</span>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“Then I went down to the potter’s
house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And
the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the
potter.”—<span class="smcap">Jer</span>. xviii. 3,
4.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Shortly</span> before the events recorded
in the preceding chapter, there had been no small excitement
among Palissy’s poor neighbours and acquaintance, with
reference to his proceedings. Day after day little knots of
gossips might be seen, lounging about the neighbourhood of his
garden and work-shed, expressing in various ways, their surprise
and indignation at his conduct, and exclaiming, in no measured
terms, against his obstinate and mad folly. This
indignation reached its height when, one day, the report spread,
far and wide, that the poor man was actually insane, and had torn
up the palings of his garden, and the planks of his
dwelling-house, and that his unhappy wife, half-crazed with his
conduct, had herself rushed out of the house accompanied by her
children, and taken refuge with a neighbour.</p>
<p>In order to account for all this, it is necessary to retrace
our steps, and relate in what manner our artist has been spending
the two years that have intervened since his marsh-surveying.</p>
<p><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
42</span>Undaunted by the failure of his early efforts, and
relieved, for a time, from anxiety on the score of domestic
wants, Palissy, giving the money he had received for the
execution of his task into the hands of his wife, resumed his
“affection for pursuing in the track of the
enamels.”</p>
<p>Two years of unremitting and zealous labour followed,
productive of no practical results, although there had once been
a partial melting of some of his compounds, which gave him
sufficient encouragement to persist. During those two long
years, he tells us, he did nothing but come and go between his
dwelling and the adjacent glass-houses, where the furnaces being
much hotter than those of the potteries, were more likely to be
successful in melting his materials.</p>
<p>Was it any marvel if poverty and sorrow invaded his household;
if his wife grew moody and sad, and if the neighbours, pitying
the hapless woman and innocent children, pronounced hard judgment
upon a man who consumed his time in buying pots and breaking
them, in grinding drugs and burning them, and in going to and fro
upon his bootless errand? Death, too, had once and again
entered his doors, bearing away the two sickly infants we saw
clinging to their mother, while in their place, two others had
been born, inheriting, alas! their malady. Of late,
Lisette, full of gloomy thoughts, had taken to complaining, and
remonstrating with her husband. Her temper had been soured
by disappointment and <a name="page43"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 43</span>trouble; and hope, so long deferred,
ceased to buoy up her spirit. She could not understand the
course Bernard was pursuing. She did not partake in his
glowing visions of future fame and prosperity, and the instinct
of power and the energy of will that nerved and inspired him were
all unknown to and unshared by her. Poor suffering
woman! She felt as any other common-sense wife and mother
would have felt in her circumstances; and bewailing his obstinate
persistence in such profitless labour, she embittered his home by
her lamentations and reproaches.</p>
<p>In this strait Palissy began to give way: he faltered, and at
length made a compromise with his anxious helpmate. One
more last trial he pleaded for; and then—if it failed, he
would abandon the search for ever! He must have felt that
the happiness as well as the fortune of his life, depended on the
cast. Rather, we learn from his own touching account of
what ensued, that he looked for counsel and help from
above. In all his ways did this good man acknowledge his
heavenly Father’s hand, and seek his blessing. What
befell, in this crisis, he thus tells us: “God willed that,
when I had begun to lose my courage, and was gone for the last
time to a glass furnace, having a man with me carrying more than
300 kinds of trial pieces, there was one among them which was
melted within four hours after it had been placed in the furnace,
which turned out white and polished, in a way that caused me to
<a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>feel such
joy as made me think I was become a new creature.”</p>
<p>With winged feet he flew home, bearing his treasure, which he
pronounced “exceedingly beautiful,” and, almost
beside himself with delight, he rushed into the chamber, where
his poor wife lay in her sick bed, and holding up the shining
white fragment exclaimed, “I have found it!”
Lisette caught the infection of his gladness, and hailed the
first ray of returning prosperity. Poor woman, she little
knew how long she must wait before she could warm herself in its
sunshine.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p44.jpg">
<img alt=
". . he exclaimed, “I have found it!”"
title=
". . he exclaimed, “I have found it!”"
src="images/p44.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>But Palissy was convinced that he had now discovered the full
perfection of the white enamel; and his delight was in proportion
to all the toil and struggle the discovery had cost him. No
more any idea, now, of giving over, and returning to his old
calling. Illustrious results must soon follow, he was sure,
and from henceforth it was necessary he should work privately,
and construct for his own use a furnace like that of the
glass-workers. Already in imagination stretching out his
hand to grasp the prize, he eagerly betook himself to moulding
vessels of clay, shaped after his own designs, which, covered
with the exquisite white enamel he had discovered, he purposed to
adorn with lovely paintings. He saw them doubtless, in his
mind’s eye, beautiful, as those he actually produced in
after years—those perfect master-pieces of porcelain in
relief, and dishes ornamented with <a name="page45"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 45</span>figures, beasts, reptiles, insects,
beetles, and flowers: treasures of art, full of grace, beauty,
and simplicity, which were eagerly purchased by the rich
seigneurs of that day, to adorn their cabinets and beautify their
châteaux, and which now sell for their weight in gold.</p>
<p>But though his fancy saw them, as his taste, so exquisite and
refined, had already designed them, still it was with the rough
clay his hands were actually at work, and he had, unfortunately
for his present need, “never understood earths.”</p>
<p>Some seven or eight months more were expended in making these
vessels, and then he began to erect the furnace. With
incredible difficulty and labour—for he had none to assist
him in the work, not even so much as to draw water, and fetch
bricks from the kiln—the indefatigable man wrought till he
had completed the furnace, and the preliminary baking of his
vessels. And then, instead of reposing after all this toil,
by the space of more than a month, he worked, night and day,
grinding and compounding the materials of which he had made the
white enamel. At length his task was completed, and the
vessels, coated with the mixture, were arranged within the
furnace.</p>
<p>Look at him now!—he has kindled his furnace fire, and is
feeding it through its two mouths. He does not spare the
fuel; he diligently throws it in, all day; he suffers it not to
slacken all night. Yet the enamel does not melt. The
sun rises, bright <a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
46</span>and glowing, and Nicole, now a sturdy boy of eleven or
twelve years old, brings his father a basin of pottage for
breakfast; a poor and scanty meal, ill-fitted to recruit his
over-taxed powers, but eagerly devoured by the hungry artisan,
who pauses for a few moments in order to swallow it. How
pale and thin and haggard he looks! What a strained
expression does his countenance wear; but all indomitable and
calmly hopeful ’mid his toil!</p>
<p>“God bless thee, my child,” he says, as he returns
the empty basin to the boy; “learn well thy lesson to-day,
and to-morrow, I hope, we may make holiday, and ramble together
through the fields as we once used to do.”
“Nay, father, and who will mind the furnace?”
“I trust it will have done its work. The enamel will
surely melt soon.”</p>
<p>But the hours of that day passed on; and the dark night
succeeded, and still, amid the blaze and crackle of the furnace,
Palissy worked on. Another day dawns; and still he feeds
his fire. Worn and weary, he occasionally drops asleep for
some minutes, but his ever wakeful spirit rouses him almost
instantly, and he throws in more wood, again. In
vain. Six days and six nights has he spent about the
glowing furnace, each day more anxious and laborious than the
preceding—but the enamel has not melted. At length,
convinced that something is amiss, he ceases from his task.
He sits, with drooping head and lack-lustre eye, gazing on the
smouldering fires, which begin slowly to slacken <a
name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>ready to die
away. What will he do next? In few and heart-stirring
words he tells us what: “Seeing it was not possible to make
the said enamel melt, I was like a man in desperation; and
although quite stupefied with labour, I counselled to myself that
in my mixture there might be some fault. Therefore I began
once more to pound and grind more materials, all the time without
letting my furnace cool; in this way I had double labour, to
pound, grind, and maintain the fire. I was also forced to
go again, and purchase pots, in order to prove the said compound,
seeing that I had lost all the vessels which I had made
myself. And having covered the new pieces with the said
enamel, I put them into the furnace, keeping the fire still at
its height. But now occurred a new misfortune, which caused
me 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; it was more than a month since my shirt
had been dry upon me. Further to console me, I was the
object of mockery; even those from whom solace was due ran crying
through the town that I was burning my floors. In this way
my credit was taken from me, and I was regarded as a
madman.”</p>
<p><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>How
grievous those plaintive words—scarcely
condemnatory—yet keenly sensitive to desertion on the part
of those who should have comforted him in the time of his
calamity! It was a scandal under which he pined away, and
with bowed head, slipped through the streets like a man put to
shame. No one gave him consolation in this extremity; on
the contrary, men jested at him, saying it was right and just
that he who had left off following his trade should die of
hunger. Will he succumb to this new trial? Hear the
brave heart’s resolve—“All these things
assailed my ears when I passed through the street; but for all
that there remained still some hope which encouraged and
sustained me. So, when I had dwelt with my regrets a
little, because there was no one who had pity upon me, I said to
my soul; ‘Wherefore art thou saddened, since thou hast
found the object of thy search? Labour now, and the
defamers will live to be ashamed.’”</p>
<p>For a few sad days only, Palissy “dwelt with his
regrets.” But “a little while” did he
indulge his sorrow. Scarcely had his physical powers,
exhausted by long tension, regained their spring, than he was
again in pursuit of his darling object. Could he but find
some friendly hand to aid him a little, all would go well; but
where was the good Samaritan to be sought? Alas! he knew of
none. Pondering sorrowfully over this matter, he one
evening chanced to pass by a small inn on the outskirts of the
town, and saw sitting on the bench, beside the door, two <a
name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>or three
labouring men who had just come from the fields. One of
these was a potter, whom Palissy knew to be a good workman.
The thought immediately came into his mind, could he but engage
the services of this man for a few months, it would be the very
thing he wanted. At that instant the host stepped out into
the porch, and, seeing Bernard, addressed a few friendly words to
him. They sounded sweet to the thirsty soul that craved for
sympathy, and he gladly accepted the landlord’s offer of a
refreshing draught, and presently entered into chat with
him. As they conversed, it chanced that mention was made of
the religious troubles then so thickly gathering around their
father-land. A chord of sympathy was thus struck, to which
their hearts responded with deep feeling. It soon appeared
that Hamelin was not unknown to the worthy innkeeper; he had,
indeed, found shelter of old, beneath his roof, when closely
pressed by the spies of Collardeau. In short, Palissy had
found one like-minded with himself; and mutual good will toward
the new religion formed a bond between himself and Victor.
This man was the same whom we have already seen in company with
Bernard, on the eve of St. John, when they beheld that cruel
sight which made their hearts burn with righteous zeal.
Victor, the little deformed innkeeper, was a man of sterling
worth and rare courage, and he proved a steady friend and ally to
Palissy. Learning from him his present difficulties, he at
once offered <a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
50</span>to give the potter all his meals, and to lodge him for
six months, putting the cost down to the account of Bernard.</p>
<p>And thus was he started afresh, with new hope. He had
made drawings of the vessels he wanted to produce, and these he
gave to the potter, as models to work by, while he occupied
himself about some medallions, which he was commissioned to
execute, and in this manner he gained a little ready money on
which to support himself and his family. As for the debts
he owed, the payment of them must be postponed till the
completion of his new batch, from which he confidently reckoned
to reap nearly four hundred livres.</p>
<p>The six months passed slowly by, and were followed by some two
or three more; during which Palissy wrought alone, at building an
improved furnace, and preparing fresh chemicals for the
enamel. Of this latter business, he says, “It was a
labour so great as threatened to baffle all my wits, had not the
desire I felt to succeed in my enterprise made me do things which
I should have esteemed impossible.” Some idea of the
difficulties he encountered may be obtained when we learn that,
after having wearied himself several days in pounding and
calcining his drugs, he had to grind them in a hand-mill, which
it usually required two strong men to turn, and all this while
his hand was bruised and cut in many places with the labour of
the furnace.</p>
<p>Those were eventful months during which Palissy <a
name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>thus toiled
in the depths of poverty and neglect. The fiery blaze that
consumed the good brother of Gimosac had awakened alarm in the
hearts of not a few who inhabited the ancient town of Saintes,
and other and more fearful sights and sounds were swift to
follow. But these must be reserved for another chapter.</p>
<h2><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
52</span>CHAPTER V.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to
the waters, and he that hath no money.”—<span
class="smcap">Isa</span>. lv. 1.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the year 1547, Henry II.
ascended the throne of France. With the intrigues of the
court it is not our province to intermeddle; but from the fierce
contests waged during that stormy period, our story cannot be
dissevered. There were four principal factions, each
pledged to the interests of a distinct chief, of whom the most
influential were the celebrated constable, Anne de Montmorency,
and his great rivals of the house of Guise. The constable
was a personage of supreme importance, possessing enormous
wealth, and raised to the pinnacle of power. As he became,
in course of time, one of the chief patrons of that skill which
Palissy was acquiring at the cost of so much toil and suffering,
a slight sketch of this famous man, who stands out as one of the
giants of the ancient monarchy, will not be misplaced here.</p>
<p>In early life he had gained a powerful influence over the mind
of Francis I., which he long retained, and on the death of that
monarch he stood high in favour with his successor, Henry
II. Faithful to <a name="page53"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 53</span>the interests of the throne and of
his country, valiant in arms, possessed of intrepid courage, and
resolute in the maintenance of what he believed right, he was,
nevertheless, full of terrible blemishes and errors. He was
an austere man, hard and rugged, rough and ungracious in manner,
stern in his resolves, and fearful in the severity of the
punishments he inflicted.</p>
<p>One of the first acts of the new king was to issue an edict
confirmatory of religious penalties. A blasphemer was to
have his tongue pierced with a hot iron, but all heretics were to
be burned alive. The spirit of this sanguinary enactment
was completely in harmony with the fierce bigotry which formed
one of the distinguishing traits of Montmorency’s
character. So great was his zeal against the heretics that
he received on one occasion the nickname of “Captain
Bench-burner,” because he made bonfires of the pulpits and
benches taken from the churches of the Calvinists. Such was
the man who now undertook the suppression of a revolt which broke
out among the inhabitants of Saintonge and the surrounding
districts. The occasion of this disturbance was the
oppressive character of the new salt tax, which heavily burdened
the poor country-people, who were consequently the first to take
up arms and drive out the officers of the gabelle. In a
short time the excitement spread. Pillage, fire, and
massacre abounded, and the insurrection extended to Bordeaux,
which became the <a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
54</span>head-quarters of the disaffected. Montmorency
marched in person against the inhabitants of the disturbed
districts, and wherever he went he erected gibbets and inflicted
horrible punishments.</p>
<p>The inhabitants of Saintes had now something to divert their
thoughts from the doings of Palissy. They trembled as they
heard of the tremendous scenes enacted at Bordeaux, where the
stern marshal, disdaining to accept the keys of the town, marched
his troops into it as a triumphant enemy, and presently put to
death one hundred citizens in its great square; at the same time
compelling the magnates of the town to dig up with their nails
the body of the royal governor, who had been slain in one of the
recent tumults. Having inflicted this summary vengeance at
Bordeaux, Montmorency advanced through Saintonge, resting, on his
route, at Pons, a town not far from Saintes, where resided the
king’s lieutenant for that department, who was also the
Count of Marennes, the famous salt district. This nobleman,
Sire Antoine de Pons, and his lady, Anne de Parthenay, were among
the earliest and staunchest friends and patrons of Palissy.
It was at their château he saw the cup of “marvellous
beauty,” which had acted as a talisman to elicit his
genius; and from them he had frequently received commissions for
various works of art. The “Dame Pons” was,
especially, a lover of gardens, and delighted in
floriculture. Scarcely could she have found another so
admirably suited <a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
55</span>to give her assistance in her favourite pursuit as
Palissy, whose congeniality of taste in this matter caused him in
after days to say, “I have found in the world no greater
pleasure than to have a beautiful garden.”</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p54.jpg">
<img alt=
"Palissy relating his failures to Lady Anne"
title=
"Palissy relating his failures to Lady Anne"
src="images/p54.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>It chanced at the time when Montmorency came to Pons, that
Bernard was engaged at the château of the Sire Antoine, in
designing some panels and decorations, as well as in laying out
the pleasure grounds. He had suffered another
disappointment in his darling object, even more overwhelming than
all previous ones, and had been again driven to a temporary
renunciation of its pursuit. The narrative of his toils and
struggles had been drawn from him by the gentle-hearted lady,
who, as she marked with discerning eye the exquisite skill and
taste of Palissy, became interested to learn somewhat of his
history. He told her, in his own strong and simple
language, all that had befallen him from the day when her lord
had shown him the Italian cup. Alas! his latest trial, like
all the others had proved a failure, and (as he declared)
“his sorrows and distresses had been so abundantly
augmented,” that he lost all countenance.</p>
<p>“And yet,” said the lady Anne, as she listened to
his tale, “you assure me, that on this last occasion you
had been right in every one of your calculations, and that the
enamel was so correctly mixed, and the furnace so well ordered,
that one single day <a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
56</span>was sufficient for the melting. How, then, did you
fail?”</p>
<p>“From this unforeseen accident,” said Palissy;
“the mortar of which I had erected the furnace, had been
full of flints, which burst with the vehement heat, at the same
time that the enamels began to liquefy; and the splinters,
striking against the pottery, which was covered with the
glutinous matter, became fixed there. Thus, all the
vessels, which otherwise would have been beautiful, were bestrewn
with little morsels of flint, so firmly attached to them that
they could not possibly be removed. The distress and
embarrassment I felt from this new and unforeseen disaster
exceeded all I had before experienced. The more so that
several of my creditors, whom I had held in hope to be paid out
of the produce of these pieces, had hastened to be present at the
drawing of my work, and now seeing themselves disappointed of
their long delayed expectations, departed in blank dismay,
finding their hopes frustrated.” “Were there
none of your pieces that had escaped injury?”
“None, madame; it is true, though they were all more or
less blemished, they would hold water, and there were some who
would have bought them of me at a mean price, but because that
would have been a decrying and abasing of my honour, I broke in
pieces the entire batch from the said furnace, and lay down in
melancholy—not without cause, for I had no longer any means
to feed my family. After a while, however, reflecting <a
name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>that if a man
should fall into a pit, it would be his duty to endeavour to get
out again, I, Palissy, being in like case, resolved to exert
myself in making paintings, and in various ways taking pains to
recover a little money.” “A wise
resolve,” replied the lady; “and one in which it will
be in my power to assist you. But hark! there sounds a
horn, which I know to be that of my lord, and it announces his
approach, accompanied by Monseigneur, the duke de
Montmorency. An idea strikes me; his highness has great
taste for ornamental art; his patronage would secure the fortune
of one who possesses your skill in designing. Bring hither
to-morrow your paintings and sketches of animals, foliage, and
groups, not forgetting the designs of your vases, and I will take
occasion to present them to the notice of Monseigneur.”</p>
<p>The lady was as good as her word; and, as she had foreseen,
Montmorency was struck with the marks of genius perceptible even
in these early and imperfect productions of the great artist, and
he immediately decided to afford Palissy an opportunity of
exercising his talents in his service.</p>
<p>In this manner did the great constable first become acquainted
with Palissy. A few years later he was intrusted with
important charges in the pot decoration of the celebrated
château d’Écouen, one of the most famous
architectural works of France in that day.</p>
<p>The building of this château, distant about four <a
name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>leagues from
Paris, had been one of the principal amusements of the wealthy
marshal, during his seasons of forced leisure, when the sunshine
of royal favour had deserted him. The architect employed
upon it was Jean Bullant, who afterwards enjoyed the patronage of
Cathurine de Medici, and assisted in the building of the
Tuilleries. Of the work contributed by Palissy towards the
decoration of the château, nothing remains in the present
day but the beautiful pavement in the chapel and galleries.
Much time was employed by him in the painting and enamelling of
the decorated tiles which compose this pavement. The
designs were all his own, of subjects taken by him from the
Scriptures, very highly finished, and so admirably arranged and
contrived as to give to the whole a surprisingly rich effect of
beautiful colouring, surpassing, it is said, that of the finest
turkey carpeting.</p>
<p>In one part of the sacristy the passion of our Lord was
represented upon pottery, in sixteen pictures, in a single frame,
copied from the designs of Albert Durer, by the hand of
Palissy. Of this piece, and of another painted by him on
glass, representing the history of Psyche, after the designs of
Raffaelle, there remain only representations upon paper. <a
name="citation58"></a><a href="#footnote58"
class="citation">[58]</a> Of all the windows of
Écouen, Palissy is also said to have been the painter; nor
must we omit to mention that in a grove of the garden there <a
name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>was formerly
a fountain, called “<i>Fontaine Madame</i>,” to which
was attached a rustic grotto, of which Palissy always spoke with
pride, as one of the chief triumphs of his handiwork. His
skill and ingenuity were exerted in the adornment of the grotto;
and the rock from whence the cascade fell was a grand specimen of
his painted pottery. Figures of frogs and fishes were
placed in and about the water, lizards were upon the rock, and
serpents were coiled upon the grass. And, that devout
thoughts might be awakened in the breasts of those who came to
enjoy the sweets of this pleasant retreat, its pious artificer
had contrived that on a rustic frieze, should be inscribed in a
mosaic, formed with various coloured stones, the text we have
chosen as the motto of this chapter.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">“HO,
EVERY ONE THAT THIRSTETH, COME YE TO THE
WATERS.”</span></p>
<p>Probably the formation of the fountain, and the arrangements
made for its supply, were suggested by Palissy, whose acute
observation in the study of nature had, by that time, led him to
the discovery of the true theory of springs. “I have
had no other book than heaven and earth, which are open to
all,” he was wont to say, and upon all subjects connected
with the study of that marvellous volume, Palissy was assuredly
far in advance of the men of his time. He delighted in
grottoes and fountains of waters, and his inquiry into the
sources of natural <a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
60</span>fountains conducted him to the true solution of an
enigma which baffled all the skill of Descartes. <a
name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60"
class="citation">[60]</a></p>
<p>We are, however, antedating the course of this
narrative. At the time of Palissy’s introduction to
the constable, he was about forty years old, and his labour to
discover the enamel ware had been spread <a
name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>over a period
of some eight years. It cost him eight years more during
which he endured great toil and numerous mishaps, before he
attained full perfection in the moulding and enamelling of
ornamental pottery. But from this time he did not lack
patronage, and business was always to be obtained sufficient for
the supply of household necessities. We shall presently
have occasion to return with him again to the detail of his
trials and struggles, and to hear of privation and distress yet
to be endured in the prosecution of the object of his
ambition. But first we are about to see him in a new
aspect, and it will be necessary to interrupt the story of his
toil in the pursuit of art, while we dwell upon some other facts
in his history, by which his mind was exercised, and his
character, as a man and a Christian, formed and illustrated.</p>
<h2><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
62</span>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”—<span
class="smcap">Job</span> i. 21,</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> six or seven years have passed
away since we last saw Palissy; and it is now the month of
February, 1557 . . .</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p62.jpg">
<img alt=
"“The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away”"
title=
"“The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away”"
src="images/p62.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>The short day is just drawing to a close, and our old friend,
who is sitting with a book open before him, has given over the
effort to continue reading, and is pensively resting, with his
hand supporting his head, which now begins to show a few silvery
threads among the long dark brown hair that overshadows the
brow. His lips are moving, and he utters the words he has
just perused on the page of that holy book with which he has
formed so close and reverent an acquaintance. “Whom
the Lord loveth he chasteneth.” “Even so,
Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight.” And he
sighed deeply, and rising, went slowly toward a corner of the
chamber, where was placed a baby’s cot. Bending down,
he raised the covering that shrouded the infant form which rested
there. It was that of a girl some few months old, who
looked so like a marble statue, that, at first sight, you would
have said, <a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
63</span>“It is the work of the sculptor.” But
no; the eyes were slightly open, and the lashes drooped over the
violet orbs, that even in death seemed beautiful.</p>
<p>The father stooped to kiss the fair delicate face, and then
kneeled down beside the cot, to read more closely the innocent
features by the fading twilight that still lingered.</p>
<p>He had remained several minutes thus absorbed in thought, and
prayerfully abstracted in spirit, when suddenly a low and
peculiar noise was heard close to the window. It roused him
from his reverie, and he quickly lifted his eyes. Again the
sound met his ear, and immediately he rose, and going to the
door, looked abroad, and uttered a signal cry, responsive to the
one he had heard. “It is Philebert Hamelin,” he
exclaimed, and the next instant his friend stood beside
him. Most heartily did Palissy receive his unexpected
visitor, and bade him welcome to his lowly roof, where he might
be in safety, seeing its owner was then under the patronage of
Sire Antoine, who had commanded that the premises of the potter
should be held inviolate from all intrusion.</p>
<p>After discharging the duties of hospitality, and seeing the
wants of his guest supplied, Bernard seated himself beside
Hamelin, and the two fell into long and earnest discourse.</p>
<p>They spoke, as was natural, first of the domestic
circumstances of Palissy, and of the bereavement <a
name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>that now
weighed heavily upon him. It was the sixth of his children
from whom he had been called to part in their tender age, and his
spirit was cast down within him. Hamelin, who had a soul
full of tender sensibilities, felt his eyes fill with tears as he
listened to the sorrows of his friend, and lovingly sought to
comfort him.</p>
<p>After a time he inquired for the two boys, Nicole and
Mathurin, who were the sole survivors of so numerous a
family. “They are grown tall and hearty, and will
soon take their part in the workshop,” said Palissy.
“The younger is a sharp wit. Certain monks of the
Sorbonne were sent, last summer, into this town and many others
of the diocese, to win over the people to allow their woods to be
cut down for the king’s pleasure. They made strange
gestures and grimaces, and all their discourses were nothing but
outcry against the new Christians. It chanced that one of
them, as he was preaching, taught how it behoved men to purchase
heaven by their good works; but Mathurin, who stood there
listening, exclaimed, ‘That’s blasphemy! for the
Bible tells us that Christ purchased heaven by his sufferings and
death, and bestows it on us freely by his mercy.’ He
spoke so loud that many heard, and some disturbance ensued.
Happily, Victor was near by, and he sheltered the lad, who might
otherwise have paid dearly for his unadvised
utterance.” “In good truth,” said Master
Philebert, “it was a perilous deed, and these are fearful
<a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
65</span>times. When a child of fifteen is not deemed too
young for the stake, when young maidens have been stabbed for
their singing, and fellow-tradesmen broken on the wheel for
exercising liberty of conscience, then it is no marvel if our
children, being taught the truths of God’s word, should
exchange their youthfulness of manner for a manly fortitude, and
should be ready sternly to sing their hymns in the free air of
heaven.”</p>
<p>The conversation now turned upon Geneva, from whence Hamelin
had recently come. He was one of those agents who, at the
instigation of Calvin, travelled through the length and breadth
of France, spreading the Reformed tenets, sometimes reading the
Scriptures and pious books—sometimes preaching the word and
exhorting, and above all, providing for the establishment of a
gospel ministry; everywhere taking occasion to search out pastors
to undertake the charge of those small and despised flocks that
were scattered about in the hamlets and towns.</p>
<p>The marvellous energy of the great Reformer was unceasingly at
work in various ways. He encouraged many French refugees to
become booksellers or printers; he formed numerous schools for
the training of his disciples; and Geneva, under his auspices,
became the metropolis of the Reformed religion; the centre of a
vast propagandist system, and one of the most famous schools of
learning and theology. It is almost impossible to conceive
how <a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>he
could support the immense labours of his latter years. He
preached almost every day; gave three theological lessons in the
week; assisted at all the consistorial deliberations, and all the
assemblies of the clergy, and was the soul of their
counsels. He carried on, besides, an immense correspondence
throughout Europe, and published, every year, some work on
theology or controversy. With all these labours and many
others, he was, nevertheless, of a feeble constitution, and all
his life long suffered under various maladies. Hamelin gave
the following graphic description of his personal appearance at
this period: “He resembles an old hermit, emaciated by long
vigils and fasting; his cheeks are sunken, his forehead furrowed,
his face colourless as that of a corpse, but his brilliant eyes
glow with an unearthly fire. His figure is slightly bowed,
the bones seem bursting through the skin, but his step is steady,
and his tread firm.”</p>
<p>The two friends spoke next upon a subject of deep interest to
both. By the advice, and at the instigation of Hamelin,
Bernard had, for a considerable time, been in the habit of
gathering together a small company of poor people on sabbath
days, to read the Scriptures, and to make exhortations
weekly. At first their number did not exceed nine or ten,
and they were indigent and illiterate men, nevertheless they had
the matter at heart, and from this small beginning was
established a church which, in a few years, grew and
flourished. Very simple <a name="page67"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 67</span>and touching is Palissy’s
account of the manner in which he, “moved with an earnest
desire for the advancement of the gospel,” daily searched
the Scriptures with Victor; and how at length the two, taking
counsel together, one Sunday morning assembled a few neighbours,
to whom Bernard read “certain passages and texts which he
had put down in writing, and offered for their
consideration.” First, he showed them how each man,
according to the gifts he had received, should distribute them to
others, and that every tree which bore not fruit, must be cut
down and cast into the fire. He also propounded to them
<i>the Parable of the Talents</i>, and a great number of such
texts; and afterwards exhorted them, to the effect that it was
the duty of all people to speak of the statutes and ordinances of
God, and that his doctrine must not be despised on account of his
own abject estate, seeing that God little esteems those things
which men account great. For, while he gives wisdom, birth,
or worldly greatness, to such as shall never see his face, he
calls to the inheritance of glory poor despised creatures, who
are looked upon as the offscouring and refuse of the world.
These, he raises from the dunghill, setting them with princes,
and making them his sons and daughters. “Oh, the
wonder!” He then begged his auditors to follow his
example, and do as he had been doing; which he so successfully
urged, that they resolved that same hour, that six of their
number should make exhortations weekly; <a
name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>that is to
say, each of them once in six weeks, on the Sunday. And it
was agreed that “since they undertook a business in which
they had never been instructed, they should put down in writing
what they had to say, and read before the assembly.”
“That was,” said Palissy, “the beginning of the
Reformed Church of Saintes.” Six poor and unlearned
men were all who had the boldness, with resolute hearts, to form
themselves into a worshipping assembly of Protestant Christians
in that town, which had so recently beheld the burning of a
heretic.</p>
<p>We seek in the chronicles of earthly glory for the names of
our famous heroes, patriots, and statesmen. The only annals
in which the name of our potter is recorded are those of the
despised Huguenot church of Saintes. In a contemporary list
of preachers we find mentioned <span class="smcap">Bernard
Palissy</span>.</p>
<p>We have no other record of the manner in which his
ministrations were carried on, than those few sentences just
given; but we know that the doctrine of the Reformed Church of
France was identical with that of Luther. The motto of that
school was, “The word of God is sufficient.”
“To know Christ and his word, this is the only living,
universal theology; he who knows this knows all,” said the
two men who first proclaimed the gospel in Paris. The
doctrine of justification by faith overturned at one sweep the
subtleties of the schoolmen, and the practices of Popery.
“It is God alone,” said Lefèvre, within the
walls of the <a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
69</span>Sorbonne, “who by his grace, through faith,
justifies unto everlasting life. There is a righteousness
of works, there is a righteousness of grace; the one cometh from
man, the other from God; one is earthly, and passeth away, the
other is heavenly and eternal; one is the shadow and the sign,
the other the light and the truth; one makes sin known to us that
we may escape death, the other reveals grace that we may obtain
life.” “We are saved by grace, through faith,
and that not of ourselves; it is the gift of God.”
<i>This</i> was the great cardinal truth which Palissy taught,
and which his hearers received in the love of it.</p>
<h2><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
70</span>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“He had respect unto the recompense of the
reward.”—<span class="smcap">Hebrews</span> xi.
26.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> morrow after Hamelin’s
unexpected visit to his friend was Sunday, and he gladly embraced
the opportunity, so soon as the shadows of night had spread their
friendly veil, to slip through the streets, and repair to the
place of meeting, where he exhorted and prayed with the little
congregation, bidding them be of good cheer, and encouraging them
with the hope, that before long, they should have a minister to
take the charge of them. The next day he departed for
Allevert, where, being kindly received by many of the people, he
remained some time, calling them together by the sound of a bell,
to listen to his exhortations, and also baptizing a child.
Tidings of these proceedings were not long in reaching Saintes,
and a great stir was immediately raised by divers officials of
the town, who instigated the bishop at that time in residence, to
authorize proceedings against Hamelin.</p>
<p>So slenderly provided was the poor Huguenot, that he had taken
with him no other outfit than a simple staff in his hand; neither
purse nor scrip <a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
71</span>had he, nor carried any weapon of defence. Alone,
and without fear, he went his way, solely intent on the errand he
was about. His friend, who evidently regarded him with the
utmost love and reverence, after describing his defenceless
condition, his poverty, and his trustful spirit, humorously
contrasts with all this the extravagant and absurd measures
adopted by his enemies, who “constrained the bishop to
produce money for the maintenance of a pursuit of the said
Philebert, with horses, gendarmes, cooks, and
cutlers.” With all this fuss and ado, they speedily
transferred themselves to the islands of Allevert, where they
re-baptized the child—thus, as far as was in their power,
repairing the mischief done by the heretic, whom, though they
failed to catch him in that place, they shortly discovered in the
mansion of one of the neighbouring gentry; and, laying forcible
hands on him, they carried him off as a malefactor, to the
criminals’ prison in Saintes, where they lodged him in safe
custody.</p>
<p>Sore was the grief of Palissy when he learned that the friend
whom he esteemed above all others, had thus been captured by
wicked men; and well he knew that they had both power and will to
destroy Hamelin. Indignation struggled in his breast with
sorrow; and as he reflected on the blameless conversation, pure
charity, and simple-heartedness of the man, he
exclaimed—“I am full of wonder that men should have
dared to sit in judgment of death over him, when they had heard
and well <a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
72</span>knew, that his life was holy.” Not content
with passively bewailing his friend’s calamity, he tells
that he mustered hardihood, notwithstanding that these were
perilous days, “to go and remonstrate with six of the
principal judges and magistrates of the town, that they had
imprisoned a prophet or an angel of the Lord,” assuring
them that for eleven years he had known this Philebert Hamelin to
be of so holy a life that it seemed to him as if other men were
devils compared with him.</p>
<p>Strong and impetuous language, prompted by the indignant
earnestness of a loving and faithful heart, which set at nought
all selfish considerations! It was, indeed, no light risk
our noble-hearted Bernard was incurring. The edict of
Châteaubriand had recently appeared, aggravating all former
penalties, forbidding all assistance to those who were of the new
religion, and all refuge of them; offering rewards to such as
should denounce them, and, in short, rendering the laws against
heresy so stringent, that the life of any one known to be a
heretic depended wholly on the sufferance of his
neighbours. In the face of such a danger, Palissy went to
the very men who were officially engaged to punish his rashness,
and boldly remonstrating with them, proclaimed the innocence and
virtue of their prisoner. This courageous and honourable
conduct was fruitless. The judges, indeed, showed
sufficient humanity not to avail themselves of his boldness as a
weapon against himself; they even heard him <a
name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>with
courtesy, and tried to excuse themselves in reference to
Hamelin’s condemnation. To use Palissy’s
words—“The better to come by a wash for their hands,
that would acquit their hearts, they reasoned that he had been a
priest in the Roman church; therefore they sent him to Bordeaux,
with good and sure guard, by a provost-marshal.” Thus
they set the seal to his doom; for Bordeaux was well-known to be
the waiting-chamber to the scaffold.</p>
<p>An effort was made, while yet Hamelin remained imprisoned at
Saintes, to procure his release, which deserves to be mentioned
on more than one account. The tidings of his captivity had
spread abroad, among the neighbouring districts, and reached the
ears of a little church founded by him in a somewhat remote
region. These poor people, with overflowing hearts, when
the evil tidings reached them, lost no time in considering how
they might best help to procure the release of one whom they
loved and honoured as their spiritual father. The result of
their deliberation was apparent, when, the day previous to his
removal to Bordeaux, an advocate came secretly to the
prison-house in which Hamelin lay, and offered to the jail-keeper
the sum of 300 livres, provided he would, that night, put the
captive outside the prison door. The bribe was tempting;
and the frail official hesitated, desiring first, however, to
take counsel of Master Philebert in the matter. His
magnanimous reply was that he chose <a name="page74"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 74</span>rather to perish by the hands of the
executioner than to expose another man to peril, for the purpose
of securing his own safety. On hearing this, the advocate,
taking back his money, returned to those who had sent him.
“I ask you,” said Palissy, as he recounted this
worthy conduct of his friend, “which is he among us who
would do the like, being at the mercy of enemies, as he
was?”</p>
<p>It was a sad meeting of the infant church when they assembled
on the Sabbath after Hamelin’s death. They looked
each other in the face, and sorrowfully proceeded to the sacred
exercises of the hour. After the service was concluded,
Palissy introduced to them a minister, named De La Place, who had
been chosen by their deceased friend to undertake the office of
pastor in Allevert. The events which had since befallen
rendered it, however, highly dangerous and undesirable that he
should repair thither for a time; and he had received notice,
warning him to abstain from proceeding on his journey.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p74.jpg">
<img alt=
". . a sad meeting of the infant church"
title=
". . a sad meeting of the infant church"
src="images/p74.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>In compliance with this intimation he had stopped short at
Saintes where he remained in safety with Bernard, who now made
him known to the brethren, and they with one accord prayed him to
stay among them and minister the word of God. Thus were
they, most unexpectedly, supplied with a pastor.</p>
<p>Before the assembly broke up, Victor, calm in manner, though
with intense feeling, narrated to <a name="page75"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 75</span>them some touching incidents he had
learned of the last hours of their martyred friend. He had
not been alone; a companion in tribulation shared his sufferings
and death, whom Philebert had strengthened in the hour of trial
by his own quiet confidence and joyful anticipation of the future
that awaited them. On the morning fixed for their execution
he awoke his comrade, who was sleeping in the same cell, and
pointing with his hand to the splendid sunrise just visible on
the eastern horizon, he exclaimed, “Let us rejoice; for, if
the aspect of nature, and the return of daylight, be so beautiful
on earth, what will it be to-morrow, when we shall behold the
mansions of heaven?”</p>
<p>His composure and piety affected even the stern jailer, who
was so much impressed with what he saw and heard that he had
spoken of it to one who secretly sympathized with the martyrs,
and related everything to Victor. When conveyed to the
gibbet, Hamelin remained self-possessed, and a divine peace was
visible on his countenance. He was asked once more, if he
would renounce his errors, and return to the true faith, but,
unmoved, and steadfast in hope, he sang a hymn, making no other
reply to the importunities of those around him than this,
“I die for the name of Jesus Christ.” His last
words were, “Lord Jesus, have mercy on me.”</p>
<p>When Victor had concluded his narrative, Palissy said,
“You have heard, brethren, the end of this child of God, to
whom we are indebted in no small <a name="page76"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 76</span>degree; for if there be among us any
of that Christian fellowship in love which is the blessed product
of communion with the members of the body of Christ, we must
assuredly trace it to his influence. All that has been done
among us is the result of the good example, counsel, and doctrine
of this brother, beloved in the Lord. And think you,”
he continued—his eye kindling, and his voice tremulous with
emotion—“that they who condemned the just will be
excused on the plea of ignorance? Assuredly the judges of
this town knew well that his life was holy; nevertheless, they
acted through fear, lest they should lose their offices: so we
must understand it. And thus they delivered him up, and
caused him to be hung like a thief. But, will not God
avenge his elect? Will he not show that precious in his
sight is the death of these, his witnesses? Truly, a rich
harvest has always sprung up from the blood of the martyrs, and
the ashes of the just, scattered to the four winds of heaven,
have been as the seed of the kingdom.”</p>
<p>These words of the noble-hearted potter recall to our minds
what Luther had spoken, some thirty years before this period,
when tidings reached him of the persecution and death of some of
his followers. “At length,” he exclaimed,
“Christ is gathering some fruit from our labours, and is
creating new martyrs. Their bonds are our bonds; their
dungeons our dungeons; and their fires our fires. We are
all with them, and the Lord himself is at our <a
name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>head.
He afterwards celebrated these first victims of the Reformation
in a noble hymn, whose strains were speedily heard echoing
throughout Germany, and everywhere spreading enthusiasm for the
cause—</p>
<blockquote><p>“They ride the air—they will not
down,<br />
The ashes of the just;<br />
Nor graves can hide, nor waters drown,<br />
That spirit-pregnant dust.<br />
Where’er the winds that seed have flung<br />
Soldiers are gendered;<br />
And Satan’s foiled, and Christ is sung<br />
By voices from the dead.” <a
name="citation77"></a><a href="#footnote77"
class="citation">[77]</a></p>
</blockquote>
<p>The early years of the little Reformed church of Saintes were
very troublesome ones. It was established, in the outset,
with great difficulties and imminent perils, and those who
ventured to enroll themselves among its number were blamed and
vituperated with perverse and wicked calumnies. The
ignorance and superstition of that age and country were called
into active exercise against the adherents of the new faith, and
the vilest slanders were fabricated against them, and accredited
even by those who witnessed their blameless lives. Most
frequently their meetings for religious worship were held during
the hours of darkness, for fear of their enemies; and occasion
was taken from this circumstance to insinuate that, if their
doctrine were good, <a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
78</span>they would preach it openly. They were even
accused of wickedness and unchaste conduct in their assemblies;
nor were there wanting some “of the baser sort” who
said that the heretics had dealings with the devil, whose tail
they went to kiss by the light of a rosin candle.
Notwithstanding all these things, however, the church continued
to exist, and to grow; and after a time, it made surprising
increase. The timid commencement, the rapid advance, and,
finally, the successful establishment and prevalence of the
Reformed tenets in Saintes, were all noted by Palissy, with
loving fidelity. He scanned, with the eye of a Christian
and a philosopher, the dealings of God’s providence; and
watchfully observed the various ways in which his purposes of
wisdom and mercy were brought to pass.</p>
<p>It is remarked, by a Roman Catholic historian of the day, that
“the painters, clock-makers, modellers, jewellers,
booksellers, printers, and others, who, although in humble
trades, have still some exercise for thought, were the first to
adopt these new ideas.” What a pleasing and
instructive fact, proving, as it does, that not only for the rich
and leisurely, the learned and studious, are reserved those best
and choicest gifts of God—the seeing eye, the hearing ear,
and the heart wise to discern the heavenly wisdom of the
cross! Nowhere could we find an instance more strikingly in
point than that afforded us by the life of Palissy. While
he <a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
79</span>laboured with enthusiasm and devoted earnestness at the
calling of his choice (and of his necessity), his most precious,
his chosen pursuit was not his art, but the knowledge and service
of God his Saviour. He obeyed the sacred mandate,
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his
righteousness,” and girding himself to the conflict with
error, his soul became possessed with a holy enthusiasm; and
having assumed to himself the right of free inquiry, he did not
scruple to make bold confession of his faith.</p>
<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
80</span>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“In all labour there is
profit.”—<span class="smcap">Prov</span>. xiv. 23</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Probably</span>, the happiest time of
Palissy’s life is that at which we are now arrived.
He may be accounted to have reached the end of his great period
of struggle as a potter. He was labouring prosperously in
his vocation; he was yet in the vigour of his age, and he had,
above all, the enjoyment of feeling that he had solved the
problem and effected the object for which he had endured a long
struggle with privation and contumely. We will not dwell on
the remaining disappointments he had been doomed to suffer before
he attained this point. They were numerous and painful in
the extreme. We get a passing glimpse of them in the
following incident. One day he encountered a friend whom he
had not seen for many a long year. He had first met with
him in the days of his youth at Tarbes, where they had worked
together, and listened in company to the teachings of
Hamelin. His companion had, in consequence, embraced the
Reformed doctrine, and afterwards became one of the colporteurs
employed in the circulation of religious <a
name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>books.
In the course of his wanderings he had occasionally visited
Saintes, but it was long since he had been there. As on
former occasions, he now eagerly sought out Palissy, to whom he
related much of deep interest with reference to the progress of
religious truth throughout the provinces of France, while, at the
same time, he drew a distressing picture of the fearful
sufferings of all classes; for it has been said, and probably
with little exaggeration, that in France during the sixteenth
century, there scarcely lived a poor rustic, the current of whose
life was not distressed and troubled by the course of state
affairs; and who had not been, or was not destined at some time
of his life to be, heavily bruised by a hard-fisted
government. Having finished his narrative, the worthy man
asked of Bernard some particulars concerning his own history, and
that which had transpired in the good town of Saintes during the
last few years.</p>
<p>“For myself,” replied Palissy, “I may say
matters are now, comparatively speaking, prosperous with
me. Much have I suffered, however, since I last saw
you. During the space of fifteen or sixteen years in all, I
have blundered on at my business. When I had learned to
guard against one danger, there came another on which I had not
reckoned. I made several furnaces, which caused me great
losses, before I understood how to heat them equally. At
last I found means to make various vessels of different enamels,
intermixed, in the manner of <a name="page82"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 82</span>jasper. That fed me several
years; and, when at length, I had discovered how to make my
rustic pieces, <a name="citation82"></a><a href="#footnote82"
class="citation">[82]</a> I was in greater trouble and vexation
than before, for having made a certain number of them, and put
them to bake, my enamels turned out, some beautiful and well
melted, and others quite the reverse; because they were composed
of different materials, which were fusible in different
degrees. Thus, the green of the lizards was burnt long
before the colour of the serpents was melted; and the colour of
the serpents, lobsters, tortoises, and crabs, was melted before
the white had attained any beauty. All these defects caused
me such labour and heaviness of spirit, that, before I could
render my enamels fusible at the same degree of heat, I verily
thought I should be at the door of my <a name="page83"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 83</span>sepulchre.” “Nay,
my friend, you look tolerably stout, at present, and carry your
fifty years as well as most men.” “It may be
so,” was the reply, “but you would have thought
otherwise, had you seen me some time since, for, from incessant
labour and anxiety, in the space of more than ten years, I had so
fallen away in my person, that there was no longer any form in my
legs or roundness in my arms; insomuch that my limbs were all one
thickness, and as soon as I began to walk, the strings with which
I fastened the bottom of my hose dropped about my heels, together
with my stockings. I frequently used to walk in the meadows
of Saintes, considering my vexation and affliction, and above
all, that I could meet with no comfort or approval even in my own
house. But, indeed, I was despised and scorned by
all. Nevertheless, I always contrived to make some ware of
divers colours, which afforded me some sort of a living.
The hope which supported me, meantime, gave me such manly courage
for my work, that oftentimes, to entertain persons who came to
see me, I would endeavour to laugh, although within me I felt
very sad.” . . . “Who would believe
Master Bernard was ever very sad?” said a lively voice, and
at the same moment a cavalier entered the workshop, and passing
through it, peeped in at the door of the studio where Palissy was
seated with his friend. “You are too prosperous a man
to speak after that fashion; and your coffers must be filling
apace, to judge by the value set on <a name="page84"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 84</span>your beautiful designs in
pottery.” “The Seigneur de Burie speaks too
favourably of my work,” replied Bernard, while his visitor,
rapidly glancing round, noticed admiringly some charming things
which were in progress of completion, and gave orders for several
pieces of enamelled earthenware—specimens of that beautiful
sculpture in clay, which was destined, before long, to adorn the
mansions and palaces of the nobles of the land.</p>
<p>“M. the Count de la Rochefoucault is eager to visit your
studio, Master Bernard,” said the seigneur, as he took his
leave; “and his patronage will be valuable to you for more
reasons than one. Not only will he give you commissions for
your works, but his influence can protect you from the dangers
you incur as one of the new religionists. It is true,
indeed, that the support of Monseigneur de Montmorency is so
powerful as to stand you in sufficient stead; and a man who is
intrusted with an important share in his famous building-works at
Écouen, will be sure to have a large circle of friends,
or, at all events, admirers and employers. Nevertheless, I
would say a word of advice in your ear. It is but the other
day I met his reverence, the dean of this town, in a courtly
circle, where the gentry were discussing the progress of
heretical doings, and I heard, with concern, that you had made
yourself obnoxious to that dignitary, as well as to the chapter
of this place, by your unguarded language. Indeed, excuse
me, if I say, it were well to be more <a name="page85"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 85</span>circumspect. Is there not a
word in the Holy Book which bids us be ‘wise as
serpents?’”</p>
<p>“I thank you heartily, monsieur, for the good will you
are pleased to show towards me,” said Bernard; “but I
do assure you these gentry have none occasion against me, except
in that I have urged upon them many times certain passages of
Scripture in which it is written that he is unhappy and accursed
who drinks the milk and wears the wool of the sheep without
providing for their pasture. Assuredly this ought to have
incited them to love me, rather than to take umbrage at the words
of truth and uprightness. In the mouth of an honest man the
language of remonstrance is friendly, and gives none occasion for
displeasure.” “By my faith, though,” said
the seigneur, laughing heartily, “such reproof must have
stung sharply. I trow, the cap fitted too closely. It
is notorious that similar language has been spoken in the ears of
Majesty itself. The Advocate-General, Séguier, in
the name of the parliament of Paris, recently made the
king’s ears tingle with his bold utterance. ‘If
heresy is to be suppressed,’ said he, ‘let pastors be
compelled to labour among their flocks. Commence, sire, by
giving an edict to the nation, which will not cover your kingdom
with scaffolds, nor be moistened with the blood or tears of your
faithful subjects. Distant from your presence—bent
beneath the toil of labour in the fields, or absorbed in the
exercise of arts and trades, they cannot plead <a
name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>for
themselves. It is in their name that parliament addresses
to you its humble remonstrance, and its ardent
supplication.’”</p>
<p>“Methinks such counsel was wise and timely. How
did the king reply?” “The king? oh, he
listened, smiled assent, and went on as before. However,
the speech was to good purpose, for the opposition of parliament
prevented a most oppressive enactment, against which the appeal
was made.”</p>
<p>As the young nobleman turned to leave the apartment, his eye
was caught by a carved group, which stood somewhat apart.
“Ah! what have we there? How lovely that infant form;
it reminds me of my own sweet little Amélie;” and he
approached it more nearly. It was a young girl who had
caught up a litter of puppies, and was taking them up in the lap
of her pinafore to exhibit, their little heads peeping out
helplessly over the sides of the cloth, while the mother, fondly
and anxiously following its young, had seized the skirt of the
child’s dress while she was turning with a smile to quiet
its solicitude. “So simple and so natural!”
said the young man, who was himself a father. “One
sees, at a glance, it is modelled from the life.”</p>
<p>Palissy sighed. “It is from a sketch of my eldest
little daughter,” he said, “as she came one day into
my garden-house, carrying her new pets, to show me. Alas!
it was almost the last time her frolicsome glee delighted my
heart, for she fell sick soon after.” “I almost
envy you, good Master Bernard, <a name="page87"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 87</span>the power thus to perpetuate your
reminiscences of past joys. I had rather be a successful
artist than a victorious warrior.” And with these
words the Seigneur de Burie at length departed.</p>
<p>The two friends, being left to themselves, continued their
discourse; and Palissy related at considerable length, the
history of his beloved church, now a flourishing community.
“The little one has become a thousand,” said
he. “Within comparatively a short period we have made
rapid strides. When our first minister, De la Place, was
with us, it was a pitiable state of affairs, for we had the
goodwill, but the power to support the pastors we had not.
So that, during the time we had him, he was maintained partly at
the expense of the gentry, who frequently invited him. When
he removed to Allevert, he was succeeded by M. de la
Boissière, whom we have at the present time. For a
long time there were very few rich people who joined our
congregation, and hence we were often without the means of his
support; frequently, therefore, did he content himself with a
diet of fruit and vegetables, and water as his drink. Yet,
were we not forsaken, nor without manifest tokens of God’s
favour and protection. Insomuch that, notwithstanding the
enmity of those who sought to destroy the cause, there was no
evil suffered to overcome us; but God bridled them, and preserved
his church. He fulfilled in our town an admirable work, for
there were sent to Toulouse two of the principal opponents, <a
name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 88</span>who would not
have suffered our assemblies to be public, and it pleased God to
detain them at that place for two years or thereabout, in order
that they might not hurt his church during the time that he would
have it manifested publicly.” “You are then,
now so prosperous, as to venture openly to avow your
principles?” “Yes; the absence of these two
opponents encouraged us, so that we had the hardihood to take the
Market Hall in which to hold our meetings; and now that they have
returned, though, indeed, their will is to molest and persecute
us, as before, yet are matters so much changed that their evil
designs are frustrated, and they dare not venture openly to
malign a work which has so well prospered that it is changing the
whole aspect of the town.”</p>
<h2><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
89</span>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“The works of the Lord are great, sought out
of all them that have pleasure therein.”—<span
class="smcap">Psalm</span> cxi. 2.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Palissy</span> had not exaggerated when he
said that the influence of the Reformed church in Saintes was
changing the whole aspect of the town. Though but of short
duration, its period of prosperity was bright and happy, and he
was prominent among its firm and peaceable supporters. The
picture he has drawn of it is a lovely one. “You
would have seen in those days,” he says,
“fellow-tradesmen, on a Sunday, rambling through the
fields, groves, and other places, singing in company psalms,
canticles, and spiritual songs—reading and instructing one
another. You would also have seen the daughters and
maidens, seated by troops, in the gardens and other places, who,
in like way, delighted themselves in singing of all holy
things. The teachers had so well instructed the young, and
affairs had so much prospered, that people had changed their old
manners, even to their very countenances.”</p>
<p>Nor was this merely a question of psalm-singing and prayers,
he assures us. The Reformation was practical and
earnest. Quarrels, dissensions, and <a
name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>hatreds were
reconciled; unseemly conduct and debauchery suppressed; and this
had been carried so far that “even the magistrates had
assumed the control of many evil things which depended on their
authority.” Innkeepers were forbidden to have gaming
in their houses, and to entertain the householders, whose duty it
was to abide with their own families, not eating and drinking
their substance elsewhere. Even the enemies of the church
were constrained, to their very great regret, to speak well of
the ministers, and especially of M. de la Boissière, who
seems to have won general respect and esteem by his judicious and
manly piety, as well as his pastoral instructions. Thus
were the opponents of the gospel fairly silenced, and recourse
was had to a system of counteraction, in the shape of a
reformation on the part of the Roman Catholics. This went
to such a point that Palissy says, “certain of the priests
began to take part in the assemblies, and to study and take
counsel about the church.” In fact, it was time they
should be on the alert, for the monks and ecclesiastics were
blamed in common talk; that is, by those who cared nothing for
religion, but who were ready enough to throw a stone at these
idle shepherds. “Why do you not exhort your people,
and pray, as these ministers do?” they asked; “you
are paid salaries for preaching.” These taunts
reaching the ears of Monsieur, the theologian of the chapter,
measures were taken accordingly, and the shrewdest and <a
name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>most subtle
monks engaged for the service of the cathedral church.
“Thus it happened that, in these days, there was prayer in
the town of Saintes every day, from one side or the
other.” But the thing which worried the priests more
than any other, and which seemed to them very strange, was, that
several poor villagers refused to pay tithes, unless they were
supplied with ministers. It was certainly a strange thing
to see, as Palissy says, when certain farmers, who were no
friends to the religion, finding these things so, actually went
to the ministers, praying them to exhort the people of the
districts they farmed, in order that they might get paid their
tithes; the labourers having refused to supply them with corn and
fruits on any other conditions. In short, the efforts of
the little church had so well prospered, that they had
constrained the wicked to become good—at all events, to
seem so.</p>
<p>How delightful to think of Bernard now! at his ease, rejoicing
in the peace and happiness around him, and in the religious
aspect of his town; frequently journeying abroad, to
Écouen and elsewhere, to and fro, as his business
required, and coming home again, to wander, thoughtfully and
tranquilly, among the rocks and fields in which he took such
delight. He was now so well supplied with patronage that he
might have been growing rich, had he not, with his own ardent
zeal and restless energy, been ever expending time, and toil, and
money, on new efforts to improve his art. Now, <a
name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>too, he had
leisure to pursue those inquiries which, in his character of a
naturalist, so deeply interested him. With surprising and
marvellous sagacity he penetrated some of the problems which have
puzzled the most skilful investigators, and there was always
mingled with his love of nature a spirit of glowing and
unaffected piety. The bright gladness of his pious soul was
as a beaming light that shone upon his path and made it ever
radiant.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p92.jpg">
<img alt=
"“This dish is charming!” said the lady"
title=
"“This dish is charming!” said the lady"
src="images/p92.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>How skilfully he turned to use all the modes of acquiring
knowledge, and what good account he made of his own sharp wits,
we see in a little incident he has recorded. It chanced one
day, he received a visit from the Dame de la Pons, for whom he
was executing a commission, in which the lady felt, naturally, a
woman’s interest. She had ordered a complete set of
dishes, to be adorned with his favourite “rustic
figulines;” the work was progressing favourably; there
remained only a few pieces to be completed; and she had come to
see and to criticise. “This dish is charming,”
said the lady; “the bottom covered with sea weeds and
corals, while the fish, with open fins, seem darting across the
water. Really, one can fancy the slight tremor of the tail,
so like the helm of the living ship. The cray-fish, too,
the spider of the waters, stretches his long claws as if to grip
the rock, and shrink into its crevices.” “And
see this one, mamma,” said her daughter, who had
accompanied her, “this is for the fresh water fish.
Look at the edges, fringed <a name="page93"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 93</span>with the dank mosses, and the sides
covered with the broad leaves of the plants. It is the
subaqueous world of waters, with all the leaves, stems, and flags
of the marsh, and its aquatic animals, transferred to clay, as
true in form, and as brilliant in colours, as if a housemaid had
dipped one of her plates in the stream, and drawn it out, filled
to the brim, with the plants, shells, and animals of the
brook.” “It is admirable,” said her
mother. Palissy’s eyes sparkled, for praise is sweet;
and what son of Adam is there to whom it does not come doubly
welcome from the lips of a woman?</p>
<p>“What a curious shell is this!” exclaimed Madame,
taking up one, from which Palissy was modelling.
“That comes from the shores of Oléron,” said
the artist; “there are numbers more on yonder table,”
and he pointed to one, covered with a multitude of similar
ones. “I engaged a score of women and children to
search for them on the rocks. And now, lady, I must tell
you something curious about those shells. Only a day or two
after they were brought to me, I chanced to call on M. Babaret,
the advocate, who, you know, is a man famous for his love of
letters and the arts. We fell into some discussion upon a
point in natural history, and he showed me two shells exactly
similar to these—urchin shells; <a name="citation93"></a><a
href="#footnote93" class="citation">[93]</a> but which were quite
massive; and he maintained that the said shells had been carved
by the hand of the workman, and was quite <a
name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>astonished
when I maintained, against him, that they were natural.
Since that time, I have collected a number of these shells
converted into stones.” “You surprise
me,” said his attentive hearer; “I was indeed greatly
puzzled myself, some years since, when I chanced to find certain
stones embedded in rock, made in the fashion of a ram’s
horn, though not so long nor so crooked, but commonly arched, and
about half a foot long. I could not imagine, nor have I
ever known how they could have been formed.”
“Your description, madame, much interests me; for, it so
happens that I have also seen, nay, possess, a stone of the kind
you describe, which was brought to me one day by Pierre Guoy,
citizen and sheriff of the town of Saintes. He found, in
his farm, one of these very stones, which was half-open, and had
certain indentations, that fitted admirably, one into the
other. Well knowing how curious I am about such things, he
made me a present of it, which I was greatly rejoiced at; for I
had seen, as I walked along the rocks in this neighbourhood, some
similar stones, which had awakened my curiosity; and from that
time I understand that these stones had formerly been the shells
of a fish, which fish we see no more at the present
day.” He then showed his visitors the picture of a
rock, in the Ardennes, near the village of Sedan, in which were
paintings of all the species of shells that it contained.</p>
<p>“The inhabitants of that place,” said he,
“daily <a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
95</span>hew the stone from that mountain to build; and in doing
so, the said shells are found at the lowest, as well as at the
highest part; that is, inclosed in the densest stones. I am
certain that I saw one kind which was sixteen inches in
diameter. From this I infer that the rock, which is full of
many kinds of shells, has formerly been a marine bed, producing
fishes.” “You speak as if stones grew, or were
made, in process of time,” said the lady; “while we
know that from the beginning, God made heaven and earth. He
made also the stones; and from that time there have been none
made, for all things have been finished from the commencement of
the world.” <a name="citation95"></a><a href="#footnote95"
class="citation">[95]</a></p>
<p>“It is indeed, madame, written in the book of Genesis
that God created all things in six days, and that he rested on
the seventh. But yet, for all that, God did not make these
things to leave them idle. Therefore, each performs its
duty according to the commandment it received from him. The
stars and planets are not idle. The sea wanders from one
place to another, and labours to bring forth profitable
things. The earth likewise is never idle; that which decays
naturally within her, she <a name="page96"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 96</span>forms over again; if not in one shape
she will reproduce it in another. It is certain that if,
since the creation of the world, no stones had grown within the
earth, it would be difficult to find any number of them, for they
are constantly being dissolved and pulverized by the effects of
frosts, and an infinite number of other accidents, which daily
spoil, consume, and reduce stone to earth.”
“You tell us startling things; very hard to be understood,
Master Bernard,” said the Dame de la Pons, “yet full
of deep interest to one who loves to note the wonderful works of
creation, and would fain learn to see them with discernment as
well as admiration.” Palissy paused from his work,
(he had continued to sketch while he conversed,) and opening a
cabinet with drawers which stood near him, he showed the ladies
several specimens of fossils and minerals, which in his
enthusiastic researches he had collected; for, with the acuteness
of a philosophic observer, he had perceived the importance of a
detailed study of fossil forms to the discovery of geological
truths; and it may be truly said that the first who pursued this
study (on which undoubtedly modern geology and all its grandest
results are founded) was Palissy, the self-educated potter, who
had taught himself in the school of nature. “I have
been anxious,” said he, “to represent by pictures,
the shells and fishes which I have found lapidified, to
distinguish between them and the sorts now in common use; but
because my time <a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
97</span>would not permit me to put my design in execution, I
have, for some years, sought, according to my power, for
petrifactions, until at length I have found more fishes and
shells in that form petrified upon the earth than there are
modern kinds inhabiting the ocean.” He then showed
them a small specimen which he begged them carefully to
observe. “What can it be?” they inquired;
“it resembles wood more nearly than anything
else.” “You will think it very strange when I
assure you that it is indeed wood, converted into stone. It
came into my possession through the kindness of the Seigneur de
la Mothe, the secretary to the king of Navarre, a man very
curious and a lover of <i>virtú</i>. He was once at
court in company with the late king of Navarre, when there was
brought to that prince a piece of wood changed into stone.
It was thought so great a curiosity that the king commanded one
of his attendants to lock it up, among his other treasures.</p>
<p>“Taking occasion to speak with the gentleman who had
received this charge, Monsieur de la Mothe begged that he would
give him a little morsel of it, which he did; and some time
after, passing through Saintes, be brought the treasure to me,
and seeing how much pleasure and interest I took in examining it,
he gave it me. I have since made inquiry, and find that it
was brought from the forest of Fayan, which is a swampy
place. It appears to me, indeed I am persuaded, that in the
same manner <a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
98</span>as the shells are converted into stone, so is the wood
also transmuted, and being petrified it preserves the form and
appearance of wood, precisely like the shells. By these
things you see how nature no sooner suffers destruction by one
principle, than she at once resumes working with another; and
this is what I have already said—to wit, that the earth and
the other elements are never idle.” “Where can
you have learned all this?” asked the young lady, with
girlish wonder; “I would fain know to what school you have
been, where you have learned all that you are telling
us.” “In truth, Mademoiselle,” said
Palissy smiling, “I have had no other teacher than the
heavens and the earth which are given to all, to be known and
read. Having read therein, I have reflected on terrestrial
matters, because I have had no opportunity in studying astrology
to contemplate the stars.”</p>
<h2><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
99</span>CHAPTER X.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“The wicked walk on every side, when the
vilest men are exalted.”—<span
class="smcap">Psalm</span> xii. 8.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Thus</span> happily occupied with the
pursuits he loved, but taking no share in the turmoils of the
time, Palissy prospered and cheerfully pursued his way. He
could not, indeed, be an unconcerned observer of the events that
were transpiring around. Having eyes, he doubtless saw the
clouds that were gathering over his country, and from time to
time, heard the thunders that threatened before long to burst in
a terrific storm. For a season, however, the evil day was
deferred, and the hymns of the rejoicing Huguenots continued to
gladden his heart. We have already had sufficient evidence
that he did not spare his remonstrances against those who, while
they enjoyed the revenues of the church, neglected the
performance of its duties. Nor did he stop there, and as
his censures extended from the highest to the lowest matters, his
shafts were often pointed against those who could ill endure the
test of common sense, which he unceremoniously applied to
them. His criticisms on the follies and vices of his
neighbours had too much the character <a name="page100"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 100</span>of home-thrusts not to be
felt. In his lively way he relates that, on one occasion,
he remonstrated with a certain high dame upon the absurdities and
improprieties of feminine attire; but “after I had made her
this remonstrance,” he quietly adds, “the silly
woman, instead of thanking me, called me Huguenot, seeing
which—I left her.” At another time, he relates
that, being on a visit to the neighbouring town of Rochelle, he
earnestly remonstrated with a tradesman, of whom he inquired what
he had put into his pepper which enabled him, though buying it in
that place at thirty-five sols the pound, to make a great profit
by selling it again, at the fair of Niord, at seventeen sols, in
consequence of the adulteration of the article. In reply to
the man’s excuse of poverty, Bernard replied, that, by such
criminal acts he was heaping up to himself fearful punishments,
“and surely,” said he, “you can better afford
to be poor than be damned.” Strong, though faithful
language, which was wholly ineffectual upon this “poor
insensate, who declared he would not be poor, follow what
might.” Plain speaking of this sort was evidently
very characteristic of Palissy, who uttered his remonstrances
without reckoning on the consequences. The same originality
and force of intellect which procured him patrons in his art,
undoubtedly, when applied in a different direction, served to
multiply enemies around him, and their time was not long in
coming.</p>
<p>Happily and swiftly flew the years of prosperity, <a
name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>but (as we
have already seen) the clouds were gathering in the horizon, and
soon the cruel hounds of war were let slip, and most frightful
were the results. Two great parties had involved in their
disputes the passions of the whole French nation. One,
which included all the Huguenots, was headed by the high old
French nobility; while the leaders of the others, embracing all
the Roman Catholics, were the Guises. These opposing
factions, with their strong deep passions, rapidly precipitated
themselves into a fierce and bloody contest. One of the
young sons of Catherine de Medici had died, after a few months of
nominal rule, and a child no more than ten years old, called
Charles IX. had succeeded to the throne. The queen mother,
who, as regent for her son, assumed the government of affairs,
was anxious, as far as possible, to offend neither of the
contending parties, but to hold them so well balanced, as to
preserve the power in her own hands. For a short time,
there was a cessation of disputes, and efforts at
conciliation. The policy of Catherine was the maintenance
of peace, and she spoke fair to the Huguenots, feigning so well
and so successfully that she was even accused by those of the
Roman Catholic party, of being in heart one with the new
sect. The Reformers took courage, and were full of fervour
and hope; the enthusiasm spreading throughout the provinces and
awakening everywhere the hope that the triumph of the Reformed
faith was at hand. It was but a passing <a
name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>gleam,
presently followed by a darker gloom, which finally deepened into
the thick night of the Black Bartholomew. In vain did the
queen and the chancellor, De l’Hôpital, labour to
secure peace by colloquies and edicts of toleration. The
Guises fiercely stirred the fires of contention, and employed
themselves in active preparations for a struggle. At
length, the first signal for the outbreak of the civil war was
given.</p>
<p>There was in Champagne, a small fortified town, called Vassy,
containing about three thousand inhabitants, a third of whom, not
reckoning the surrounding villages, professed the Reformed
religion. It happened, on the 28th of February, 1562, that
the Duke of Guise, journeying on his way to Paris, accompanied by
his cousin, the cardinal of Lorraine, with an escort of
gentlemen, followed by some two hundred horsemen, visited the
château de Joinville, which was situated in the
neighbourhood, on an estate belonging to the Lorraines.</p>
<p>The mistress of the castle was a very old lady, the dowager
Duchess of Guise, whose bigoted attachment to the faith of her
ancestors made the very name of Huguenot an offence to her.
Sorely indignant was she at the audacity of the inhabitants of
Vassy, who had no right, she declared, as vassals of her
granddaughter, Mary Stuart, to adopt a new religion without her
permission. Often had she threatened vengeance upon them,
and the time was now come to inflict it. And the aged woman
urged <a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
103</span>her son, the fierce Duke Francis, to make a striking
example of these insolent peasants. As he listened to her
angry words, he swore a deep oath, and bit his beard, which was
his custom, when his wrath waxed strong.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p102.jpg">
<img alt=
"“Heretic dogs! Huguenot rebels! Kill, kill!”"
title=
"“Heretic dogs! Huguenot rebels! Kill, kill!”"
src="images/p102.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>The next morning, resuming his march, he arrived at a village
not far from the obnoxious town; and the morning breeze, as it
came sweeping up the hills, brought to his ears the sound of
church bells. “What means that noise?” he asked
of one of his attendants. “It is the morning service
of the Huguenots,” was the reply. It was, in fact,
the sabbath day, and the Reformers, assembled to the number of
some hundreds, were performing their worship in a barn, under the
protection of a recent edict of toleration. Unsuspicious of
danger, there was not a man among them armed, with the exception
of some ten strangers, probably gentlemen, who wore swords.</p>
<p>Suddenly, a band of the duke’s soldiers approached the
place, and began shouting—“Heretic dogs!
Huguenot rebels! Kill, kill!” The first person
whom they laid hands on was a poor hawker of wine.
“In whom do you believe?” they cried. “I
believe in Jesus Christ,” was the answer; and with one
thrust of the pike he was laid low. Two more were killed at
the door, and instantly the tumult raged. The duke,
hastening up at the sound of arms, was struck by a stone, which
drew blood from his cheek. Instantly the rage of his
followers <a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
104</span>redoubled, and his own fury knew no bounds. A
horrible butchery followed; men, women, and children were
attacked indiscriminately, and sixty were slain in the barn or in
the street, while more than two hundred were grievously
wounded.</p>
<p>The pastor, Leonard Morel, at the first sound of alarm,
kneeled down in the pulpit and implored the divine aid. He
was fired at; and then endeavoured to escape, but, as he
approached the door, he stumbled over a dead body, and received
two sabre cuts on the right shoulder and on his head.
Believing himself to be mortally wounded, he exclaimed,
“Into thy hands I commend my spirit, O Lord; for thou hast
redeemed me.” He was captured, and carried, being
unable to walk, into the presence of the duke.
“Minister, come this way,” he said, “what
emboldens thee to seduce this people?” “I am no
seducer,” said Morel, “but I have faithfully preached
the gospel of Jesus Christ.” “Does the gospel
teach sedition, sirrah?” said M. de Guise, with his usual
blasphemous oath; “thou hast caused the death of all these
people; and thou shalt thyself be hanged immediately. Here,
Provôt, make ready a gallows for him on the
spot!” But even among that fierce crew none seemed
willing to obey the savage mandate, and no one came forward to
enact the part of hangman. This delay saved the life of the
captive, who was removed under good guard, but eventually
escaped.</p>
<p>The following year, as the blood-thirsty duke lay <a
name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>on his
death-bed, mortally wounded by the hand of an assassin, he
protested that he had neither premeditated nor commanded the
massacre of Vassy. This may be true; but his consent at the
moment of its perpetration is beyond question.</p>
<p>An extraordinary effect was produced throughout the whole
kingdom, by the tidings of this cruel slaughter. Among the
Reformed party it created a universal feeling of indignant horror
and alarm. It was like the war-whoop of the Indians, which
precedes the rush to battle. Each party flew to arms, after
putting forth manifestoes, asserting the merits of their
respective causes. The Prince of Condé hastened to
Orleans, which he succeeded in occupying, and there the army of
the Huguenots established their headquarters. In that town
the Calvinist lords assembled, on the 11th of April, 1562, and
after partaking the Lord’s supper together, bound
themselves in an alliance, to maintain the Edicts, and to punish
those who had broken them. They took a solemn oath to
repress blasphemy, violence, and whatever was forbidden by the
law of God, and to set up good and faithful ministers to instruct
the people; and lastly, they promised, by their hope of heaven,
to fulfil their duty in this cause.</p>
<p>And thus the fearful work began, and tumult, massacre, battle,
and siege prevailed. Every town in France was filled with
the riot of contending factions. “It was a grand and
frightful struggle <a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
106</span>of province against province, city with city, quarter
with quarter, house with house, man with man,” says a
recent historian. “Fanaticism had reduced France to a
land of cannibals; and the gloomiest imagination would fail to
conceive of all the varieties of horrors which were then
practised.”</p>
<p>We have to do with the town of Saintes. There were few
places in which the Huguenots were so numerous, and had
multiplied so rapidly, as in Saintonge. Passions were
nowhere stronger; no place was more trampled by combatants; it
was the scene of many of the maddest contests during the days of
the religious warfare. At the invitation of the Duke de La
Rochefoucault, all the Protestant leaders of the district
gathered themselves together at Angoulême, and betook
themselves, under his guidance, to Orleans, in order to join the
Prince of Condé, who was his brother-in-law. After
the departure of these forces, the various towns in that
neighbourhood, Angoulême, Saintes, Pons, and others,
remained indeed in the possession of the Huguenots, but without
defence, nearly all the Reformers of the district, capable of
bearing arms, having followed the march of De La Rochefoucault,
“especially” we are told, “those of
Saintes.” Consequently, the town, deprived of its
soldiers, presented an easy prey to the enemy, and in a short
time, fell into the hands of a hostile leader, named Nogeret, who
treated with harsh severity all that remained in the place, in
execution of a decree <a name="page107"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 107</span>from Bordeaux, by which the
Reformers were abandoned, without appeal, to the mercy of any
royal judge.</p>
<p>Among those thus given over to the power of these miscreants,
was Palissy. In few but emphatic words he has recorded the
terrors of that fearful time. “Deeds so wretched were
then done,” he said afterward, “that I have horror in
the mere remembrance. To avoid those dreadful and execrable
sights, I withdrew into the secret recesses of my house, and
there, by the space of two months, I had warning that hell was
broke loose, and that all the spirits of the devils had come into
this town of Saintes. For where, a short time before, I had
heard psalms, and holy songs, and all good words of edification,
now mine ears were assailed only with blasphemies, blows,
menaces, and tumults, all miserable words, and lewd and
detestable songs. Those of the Reformed religion had all
disappeared, and our enemies went from house to house, to siege,
sack, gluttonize, and laugh; jesting and making merry with all
dissolute deeds and blasphemous words against God and
man.”</p>
<p>Very terrible is this truth-breathing description of the
miseries of a city given over to the license of an unbridled
soldiery; but the most affecting picture is that which he draws
when closing his short narrative of those “evil
days.” “I had nothing at that time but reports
of those frightful crimes that, from day to day, were committed;
and of all those <a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
108</span>things, that which grieved me most within myself was,
that certain little children of the town, who came daily to
assemble in an open space near the spot where I was hidden
(always exerting myself to produce some work of my art), dividing
themselves into two parties, fought and cast stones one side
against another, while they swore and blasphemed in the most
execrable language that ever man could utter, so that I have, as
it were, horror in recalling it. Now, that lasted a long
time, while neither fathers nor mothers exercised any rule over
them. Often I was seized with a desire to risk my life by
going out to punish them; but I said in my heart the 79th Psalm,
which begins, ‘O God, the heathen are come into thine
inheritance.’”</p>
<h2><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
109</span>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“A friend loveth at all times, and a brother
is born for adversity.”—<span
class="smcap">Proverbs</span> xvii. 17.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Seigneur de Burie had not
spoken without sufficient cause when he warned Palissy that he
had made himself enemies of certain high church dignitaries in
Saintes. Those admonitions he had uttered were not
forgotten by the Romish ecclesiastics, who bestirred themselves
so zealously, that after the city had been in the power of the
Roman Catholic party for a few weeks, violent hands were laid
upon the unsuspecting potter. He had believed himself
secure from actual assault within his own premises, and not
without cause, since he was under the protection of a safeguard,
given him by the Duke de Montmorency, which expressly forbade the
authorities undertaking anything against him or his house.
It was also well known by both parties that the building in which
he worked for the constable had been partly erected at the
expense of that nobleman, and that, on occasion of an outbreak in
the city which had occurred some time before, the leaders of the
Roman Catholic party had expressly <a name="page110"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 110</span>forbidden any interference with
Palissy or his work, through respect to his employer.</p>
<p>But matters had now reached a strange height, and there seemed
to be a favourable season for malice and bigotry to work their
will. Palissy was arrested and imprisoned; and, as soon as
he was taken into custody, his workshop was broken into, and part
of it laid open to the intrusion of the public. The
magistrates, at their town meeting, actually came to a resolution
to pull down the building, and would infallibly have carried
their purpose into effect, had not the Seigneur de Pons and his
lady immediately interfered. These tried friends of Bernard
lost no time in personally remonstrating with the magistrates,
from whom they, with some difficulty, obtained the promise to
defer carrying out their design. To deliver him from the
clutches of his enemies was not so easy a matter. His
prosecutors were, in fact, no other than the dean and chapter,
who, he says, were his cruel foes, and would have delivered him
to death for no other cause than his free speech in the matter of
their neglect of duty.</p>
<p>The Sire de Pons, as king’s lieutenant in Saintonge, had
power to control the justices of Saintes; and, consequently, the
hands of his judges were tied. They were all, indeed,
“one body, one soul, and one single will” with the
reverend prosecutors of their prisoner, and without a shadow of
doubt, had they been able to work their pleasure, he would <a
name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>have been
put to death before appeal could have been made to the
constable.</p>
<p>“An awkward business is this,” said the dean to
one of his brethren, as they discussed the matter of the
interposition of the Sire de Pons. “Plainly, we
cannot carry out our intentions here; but once at Bordeaux this
obstinate heretic would be given up into the hands of the
parliament there, and then the interference of the king alone
could save him.” “There will be no satisfaction
till he is silenced,” was the reply; “and, without
doubt, he has done ample mischief. Only think of the
labourers on our farms beginning to murmur at paying tithes to
those who they, forsooth, say do not deserve them. This
comes of his unbridled tongue. And shall we thus be defied
and brow-beaten by an insolent mechanic?” “Nay,
there is no need to urge me on. If he were but in our
power; . . . but the question is, how to manage the affair, and
get him safely out of the jurisdiction of these people, who will
certainly never be brought to consent to his condemnation.
There are so many wealthy men in this neighbourhood by whom the
knave is employed in decorative works, besides the buildings at
Écouen, and his skill in pottery-ware has made him so much
thought of, that he is safe as long as he remains within this
district.” “To Bordeaux, then, let him go, and
that without delay. Why not this very night? In the
daytime the matter would get bruited abroad, and his friends
might contrive to send to <a name="page112"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 112</span>the rescue; but by night, and across
by-roads, he can be carried off silently and safely; and once at
Bordeaux—” . . . “You say well. Measures
shall be taken immediately.”</p>
<p>Little did our captive imagine what were the devices of those
that hated him. He might easily have contrived to escape
beyond their reach, had he not reckoned himself so safe that his
arrest came upon him wholly unawares. It had fared ill with
him at this juncture but for the watchful and affectionate care
of his old friend, Victor. Through the interposition of
those from whom he had learned the particulars of Hamelin’s
last hours, he obtained admission into the prison where Palissy
was confined, and ministered to him with the solicitude of a
brother. By his means, communication was carried on between
the prisoner and his patrons, the Seigneurs de Burie and de
Jarnac, as well as the king’s lieutenant. All these
gentlemen took much trouble, and made interposition with the dean
and chapter, to whom they repeatedly urged that no man but
Palissy could complete M. de Montmorency’s work, and that
the displeasure of his highness would be incurred if a person
under his especial patronage were injured. We have seen
that their interference did but hasten on the catastrophe, and
make his doom more certain.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p112.jpg">
<img alt=
"Victor obtained admission into the prison"
title=
"Victor obtained admission into the prison"
src="images/p112.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>Victor’s heart misgave him that evil was designed
against his friend. He had seen the fearful end of the two
pastors of Allevert and Gimosac, and the <a
name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>more recent
fate of Hamelin; and the most cruel forebodings oppressed
him. He was incessantly on the watch, and when obliged to
leave the prison, and compelled to abandon Palissy to solitude,
he could not go to his own home and rest there, but remained,
pacing to and fro, in the neighbourhood of the jail; and, while
thus restless and agitated, he poured out his soul in earnest
entreaties for help from on high. Oh, the blessing of a
true friend in the hour of adversity! How sweet a thing is
heavenly charity—the brotherhood of love in Christ
Jesus! It was a true word, spoken by the great lawyer,
Gerbellius—“There is nothing the devil hates so
cordially as sincere friendship;” and what marvel, since,
as an old divine says, “it makes men so unlike his
ill-natured self.” But, as long as we enjoy
prosperous days, and sail before a favouring wind, there is no
test by which we can prove the strength and value of this
principle. The time to know who truly loves us is the
season when troubles assail us. All sorts of affliction and
misery test this, and show what friendship is genuine and
hearty. This is one of “the uses of adversity,”
as friendship is one of its sweetest alleviations.</p>
<p>On the afternoon of the day when Palissy’s abstraction
from Saintes was plotted, Victor was at his customary post beside
his friend, who remained quite composed and free from anxiety on
his own account. “Be not so anxious,” he said,
endeavouring to soothe the fears he did not share; “I am,
at <a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>all
events, secure from further harm, since the power is not in the
hands of these judges. No thanks, indeed, to them; they
fear to lose some morsel of benefice which they possess, and
consequently go hand in hand with my sanguinary enemies. It
is certain I can but take the blame of what has befallen me to my
own account. Jesus Christ has left us a counsel, written in
the 7th chapter of St. Matthew, by which he forbids us to scatter
pearls before the swine, lest, turning upon us, they rend
us. If I had obeyed this injunction, I should not now have
been suffering, and at the mercy of those who, though they want
the power, have undoubtedly the will to bring me to destruction
as a malefactor.”</p>
<p>Just at that moment the jailer entered, desiring a man who
followed him to bring in a box, which they placed in a corner of
the room. “You must be going soon,” said he,
addressing Victor; “I have some business in hand, and must
lock up doors early to-night. Your friend can stay,
however,” he added, casting a glance at Palissy, which
seemed to the ever observant Victor to have a shade of compassion
in it, “for half an hour longer if you wish
it.” So saying he retired, turning the key, which
grated heavily and with a harsh sound in the lock. Victor
would have spoken of his suspicion that something was wrong, and
that mischief was designed; but Bernard interrupted him with a
gesture of impatience, and presently began talking on a theme
which appears to have formed the solace of <a
name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>his
prison-house, and by which he whiled away the hours, which else
had seemed so tedious to his free and active nature. He had
for some time had it in his intention to publish a little book
containing his observations and opinions on various
matters—in short, the experience of his past years.
He now recurred to this subject. “I have
resolved,” said he, “that my book shall treat on four
subjects; to wit, agriculture, natural history, the plan of a
delectable garden (to which I will append a history of the
troubles in Saintonge), and lastly, the plan of a fortified town,
which might serve as a city of refuge in these perilous
times. Of the two former I have sketched the plan in my
imagination, and the matter of the garden now fills my
thought. You know well the delight I have in so great a
recreation, and how I have been minded to make me such a pleasant
retreat, as a place of refuge, whither I might flee from the
iniquity and malice of the world to serve God with pure
freedom.” “Would to heaven, my beloved friend,
you were safe sheltered there,” said Victor, “but oh!
methinks, this is but a pleasant dream.”
“Often, in my sleep, I have seemed to be occupied about
it,” said Bernard, “and it happened to me only last
night, that, as I lay slumbering on my bed, my garden seemed to
be already made, and I already began to eat its fruits and
recreate myself therein; and it came to pass, in my night vision,
that, while considering the marvellous deeds which our Sovereign
Lord has <a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
116</span>commanded nature to perform, I fell upon my face, to
worship and adore the Living of the living, who has made such
things for man’s service and use. That also gave me
occasion to consider our miserable ingratitude and perverse
wickedness; and the more I entered into the contemplation of
these things, the more was I disposed to value the art of
agriculture, and I said in myself, that men were very foolish so
to despise rural places and the labours of the field, which is a
thing just before God, and which our ancient fathers, men of
might and prophets, were content themselves to exercise, and even
to watch the flocks; and being in such ravishment of
spirit—”</p>
<p>The sentence was broken short by the return of the jailer, who
announced that the time he had allowed was now expired.
Victor reluctantly took his leave of Palissy, and, with a heavy
heart, turned to go from him. No sooner had he reached the
open street than, again recurring, in his own thoughts, to what
had transpired, he felt convinced that something was wrong.
That compassionate glance of the stern jailer intimated, as it
seemed to him, the cause of the favour he had granted, in
allowing the two friends a longer interval before they were
parted. “Parted!” cried Victor, his heart
filled with dismay as his lips unconsciously uttered the ominous
word—“parted! can it be that we are parted for
ever? Lord!” he exclaimed, in a burst of feeling,
“be thou his guard and his defence, <a
name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>as a wall
of fire to keep thy servant; and in this hour of trial show that
thine arm is not shortened, that it cannot save.”
After a short interval, he repeated, in a low tone, this verse of
a hymn composed by the Protestant Gondinel, and often sung by the
little persecuted church of Saintes:—</p>
<blockquote><p>“The time is dark, we faint with woe,<br />
Our foes are mightier far than we;<br />
They say, ‘Their God forsakes them now,<br />
And who shall their deliverer be?’<br />
Lord, show thy presence—prove thy power,<br />
And save us at the latest hour.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Continuing to pace to and fro, he remained within sight of the
prison until the darkness gathered around, and the bright stars,
one by one, came shining in brilliant beauty overhead. The
sight of them, as he raised his prayerful eyes upwards, calmed
his spirit, and he whispered gently, “He calleth them all
by their names.” It was a thought calculated to
inspire confidence in Him who has promised to his children that
they shall be graven on the palms of his hands, and who has said,
“Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver
thee,” and the spirit of Victor was cheered as he pleaded
the exceeding great and precious promises of divine love.</p>
<p>At length the hour of midnight approached, and still all
around remained hushed in repose. There was nothing to
justify his prognostications, nor to awaken alarm, and he had
just resolved to retire, <a name="page118"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 118</span>when the sound of horses tramping at
a distance, caught his ear. Presently, from a side street
emerged a small troop of horsemen, who moved cautiously along,
and kept, as much as possible, within the deep shadows of the
walls. They proceeded down the street, and drew up before
the gate of the prison-house. Victor, who had hastily
retired beneath an archway, watched their movements with strained
eyes, and dimly saw, by the starlight, the outline of their
figures as they filed along. The gate was unbarred to them
without summons, and the next instant a muffled form was led out
between two men, and hastily lifted on to the crupper of one of
the horses behind the stalwart form of a trooper. There was
not a moment to lose, for the party were evidently about to
resume their march, and Victor, with ready wit, emerging from his
hiding-place, reeled forward, in the manner of a drunken man, and
began to sing a carol. Just as the horse with its double
freight passed him, he shouted the words, “Save us at the
latest hour.” His stratagem succeeded, for a shrill
whistle was instantly heard mingling with the ringing sound of
the horses’ hoofs on the stones, as they passed along the
street. “It is he!” cried Victor, and, with the
speed of a greyhound he darted down the nearest passage.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p118.jpg">
<img alt=
"Victor . . . watched their movements"
title=
"Victor . . . watched their movements"
src="images/p118.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>He knew that his errand admitted not of delay. There was
but one chance that Palissy might be <a name="page119"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 119</span>saved. It was an intercession
with the king; and possibly the Sire de Pons, on receiving
immediate information of the secret Victor had thus learned,
might take timely measures to frustrate the deadly designs of
Barnard’s enemies.</p>
<h2><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
120</span>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“A good man shall be satisfied from
himself.”—<span class="smcap">Proverbs</span> xiv.
14.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Palissy</span> was now immured within the
walls of the Bordeaux prison. While he lies there, bereft
of the consolation he had hitherto enjoyed in the society of
Victor, we must betake ourselves to a very different scene.</p>
<p>In consequence of the information he received from the Sire de
Pons, the constable Montmorency determined, as the only means of
averting the fate which threatened his ingenious workman, to
apply himself, in person, to the queen mother, through whose
influence the court might be induced to protect him. In
fact, Catherine was herself virtually monarch, and a word from
her would suffice. The sole redeeming quality of this woman
of evil renown was, an enlightened taste for literature and the
fine arts, a taste which seems to have been hereditary in her
family. She enriched the royal library with many precious
manuscripts of Greece and Italy, and presented to it half the
volumes which her great ancestor Lorenzo de Medici had purchased
of the Turks, after the taking of Constantinople. <a
name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>Especially
she excelled in her love of the fine arts, and her taste and
genius were displayed in the erection of many châteaux in
various provinces, remarkable for the exactness of their
proportions and their style, at a period when the French had
scarcely a notion of the principles of architecture. At the
present time she had just conceived the purpose of constructing a
new residence for herself; and Montmorency found her, in one of
the apartments assigned to her use, in the palace of the Louvre,
busily engaged in looking over some manuscript plans. As
the constable was announced, she raised her eyes from the table
on which these designs were placed, and after receiving his
salutations, begged him to be seated beside her, and pointing
with her hand (the most beautiful one ever beheld, according to a
contemporary historian), she smilingly requested his assistance
in her choice. “Allow me, monsieur,” she said,
“to appeal to your judgment, for in the matter now under
consideration, I could not have an adviser whose opinion I should
more highly value. You are aware that the château des
Tournelles has been destined to demolition, and I have,
therefore, determined to build me a new palace, the site of which
I am anxious to fix upon. The plan now before his
majesty”—and she glanced at her son, the poor young
boy king, who sat opposite her—“appears to me to
present no small advantages.” The paper to which the
queen referred was the plan of a plot of ground close to <a
name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>the
trenches of the Louvre, situated, at that time, out of Paris, and
which had been purchased, some half century before, by king
Francis I., as a present to his mother, Marie Louise, of
Savoy. It had been originally occupied by tuileries
(<i>i.e.</i>, tile-kilns), and in the old drawings which
Catherine was inspecting, the spots where formerly stood the
wood-yards and baking-houses used in making the bricks and tiles,
were marked out. “Its situation by the river, and the
large space suitable for garden ground attached to it, seem much
in its favour, madame,” said the constable.
“And its neighbourhood to the royal dwelling also,”
said the queen, at the same time she unrolled another map, which
she proceeded to examine, with the assistance of Montmorency.</p>
<p>Whilst they are thus engaged we will take the opportunity to
say something of the two royal personages present. Charles
IX. was not yet fourteen years old, tall in stature, strongly but
not gracefully built, and with a countenance of energetic
expression, but fierce and unrefined. The poor lad,
invested at so early an age with unbounded authority, appears to
have been naturally of a violent temper, with high animal
spirits. His great passion was the chase, and he also
showed considerable taste for letters. But, kept in
subjection to the will of his mother, and tutored by her to
suspect and dissimulate, his natural character was vitiated, and
he suffered himself to continue, to the time of his death, <a
name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>the passive
instrument of her ambition and cruelty. A remarkable
anecdote is told of him, which seems to prove that better things
might have been expected of him, had his education been in
different hands. When but a youth, having perceived that
after drinking wine he was no longer master of himself, he swore
never to use it again; and he kept his oath. What might not
have been expected from a prince gifted with such powers of
self-control, had he been judiciously trained?</p>
<p>At the time of which we are speaking, the queen mother was in
the decline of her beauty, though she still retained some
remnants of those charms which adorned her in youth. She
was clad in the black robes of her widowhood, which it was her
fancy to persist in wearing long after the usual period; her hair
was completely hidden beneath the angular white cap we see in the
pictures of that day, and her strongly marked features were
softened by the shade of a grey gauze veil. Her eyebrows
were dark, and her eyes, large and brilliant, had a restless
severity in their expression which inspired fear and
distrust. Her complexion was olive, and her figure tall and
large, her movements full of grace and majesty, while an air of
command was visible in every gesture.</p>
<p>As she spoke now, the tones of her voice were soft and
musical, for it was her wish to please; but, when angry passions
agitated her bosom, they became dissonant, harsh, and
startling.</p>
<p><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
124</span>“I think,” she said, in answer to an
observation made by Montmorency, “the balance of advantages
lies much in the favour of the first design, to which I shall,
therefore, give the preference, and will immediately give
directions for digging the foundations of the new palace, and it
shall be named, from the site on which it is built, the Palace of
the Tuileries.” “Well, madam,” said the
constable, “your majesty has admirably chosen, and
skilfully selected, an appropriate name for the intended royal
abode.” “It occurred to my recollection,”
said Catherine, “that one of the finest quarters of ancient
Athens was called the Ceramic, because it occupied ground once
held by extra-mural potteries.” “Speaking of
potteries reminds me, madam,” said Montmorency, “of
the principal object I had in seeking an interview with your
majesty. Among the workmen I have employed at
Écouen, there is a mechanic who evinces a surprising
genius in the art of painting on glass, and who has invented an
enamelled earthenware of great beauty. I know of none equal
to him in skill, and, in fact, I cannot supply his place should
he be sacrificed.” “You should not allow so
great a treasure to slip through your hands. What danger
threatens him?” “He is a Huguenot,
madam,” was the reply. “No matter,” said
the queen, laughing, “his heresy won’t alter the hues
of his glass or pottery-ware.” “Nay; but he has
fallen into the hands of Nogeret, one of the royalist leaders in
Saintonge, and will <a name="page125"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 125</span>infallibly be hanged or burned, and
serve him right, as I should say, for a heretic knave, but that
my work is incomplete, and that Master Palissy is a rare
workman. Such skill, too, as he shows in designing, and in
the adorning of gardens! In short, he is precisely the man
whom your majesty would find invaluable in the works you have now
in prospect.”</p>
<p>Queen Catherine was by no means unwilling, in so trifling a
matter, to oblige the great constable; besides that, she had a
taste for the patronage of clever artists, and knew too well the
difficulty of procuring such a one as had been described, to turn
a deaf ear to the hint thrown out by Montmorency.
“Let an edict be issued, in the king’s name,”
she said, “appointing this Palissy ‘workman in earth
to his majesty.’ He will then, as a servant of the
king, be removed from the jurisdiction of Bordeaux, and his cause
can come under no other cognizance than that of the grand
council.” Montmorency expressed his gratitude, and
rose to depart, when the Queen carelessly remarked, “That
was a blundering affair of M. de Guise at Vassy; it drove the
Protestants to such extreme measures that the game of moderation
was at an end.” The constable made no reply, save to
shrug his shoulders; but the young king tittered the following
impromptu, which history has preserved:</p>
<blockquote><p>“François premier, prédit ce
point,<br />
Que ceux de la maison de Guise<br />
Mettraient ses enfants en pourpoint<br />
Et son pauvre peuple en chemise.” <a
name="citation126"></a><a href="#footnote126"
class="citation">[126]</a></p>
</blockquote>
<p><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
126</span>Catherine looked disconcerted at this unexpected
<i>jeu-de-mot</i> of her son, and rising somewhat hastily,
stepped across the room, and taking the arm of Charles, bowed
gracefully to the constable and withdrew.</p>
<p>The result of this colloquy was that, in as short a time as
the royal post could convey the letter of M. de Montmorency to
Bordeaux, Palissy was released from the power of his enemies, and
being thoroughly protected from the hostilities of the
belligerents on either side, returned to Saintes, and resumed his
place in the dilapidated workshop, whose broken doors bore
sorrowful witness to the ravages of civil strife. Alas! it
was now a very different home, for the town was half depopulated;
the best of the inhabitants had fled or been slaughtered in the
streets, churches had been battered, and rude hands had wrought
destruction everywhere. But nothing seems to have shaken
the equilibrium of his spirit, and he could say, with St. Paul,
“I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be
content.” It is evident that he had attained to that
fortitude and equanimity, that happy confidence of spirit, which
so substantially realizes the truth of <a
name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>the divine
promise—“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose
mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee;” the
solid reality, this, of what the ancient sages did but dream
about, and of which they sweetly sang, as in the famous ode of
Horace—</p>
<blockquote><p>“The man of strong resolve and just
design<br />
When, for bad ends, infuriate mobs combine,<br />
Or gleams the terror of the monarch’s frown<br />
Firm in his rock-based worth, on both looks down.” <a
name="citation127"></a><a href="#footnote127"
class="citation">[127]</a></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bernard was now at leisure to renew the past, and he availed
himself of the opportunity to complete his little book, which we
have seen so busily absorbing his thoughts when he was captive
within the walls of his prison. He bethought him again of
the beautiful garden, and he tells how, one day (when peace was
for a season restored), as he was walking through the meadows of
the town, near to the river Charente, contemplating the horrible
dangers from which God had delivered him in the past time of
tumult and trouble, he heard once more the sounds which had so
delighted him before those evil days. “It was the
voice of certain maidens, who were seated under the shade of the
trees, and sang together the 104th Psalm; and, because their
voice was soft, and exceedingly harmonious, it caused me to
forget my first thought, and having stopped to <a
name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>listen, I
passed through the pleasure of the voices, and entered into
consideration of the sense of the said psalm; and having noted
the points thereof, I was filled with admiration of the wisdom of
the royal prophet, and said, ‘Oh divine and admirable
bounty of God! I would that we all held the works of
God’s hands in such reverence as he teaches us in this
psalm;’ and then I thought I would figure in some large
picture the beautiful landscapes which are therein described;
but, by-and-by, considering that pictures are of short duration,
I turned my thoughts to the building of a garden, according to
the design, ornament, and excellent beauty, or part thereof,
which the Psalmist has depicted; and having already figured in my
mind the said garden, I found that I could, in accordance with my
plan, build, near thereto, a palace, or amphitheatre of refuge,
that might be a holy delectation and an honourable occupation for
mind and body.”</p>
<h2><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
129</span>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“A man’s heart deviseth his way: but
the Lord directeth his steps.”—<span
class="smcap">Proverbs</span> xvi. 9.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Victor</span> and Bernard were now more
closely united to each other in bonds of loving fellowship than
ever. With thankful joy they embraced the opportunity once
more given them of taking sweet counsel together, without fear of
those rude alarms they had so recently experienced. They
could, indeed, no longer meet with their brethren in church
communion, for, alas! the members of that once flourishing flock
were scattered, and the voice of their honoured pastor was hushed
in death; but they two met, as of old, to unite in the sacred
exercises of devotion. But few evenings passed without some
words of loving intercourse, generally closed with prayer and
thanksgiving.</p>
<p>On one of these occasions, Victor, coming in, found his friend
engaged in studying the formation of a shell, which he was
turning round and diligently examining. “I thought
better not interrupt your cogitations the other day,” said
he; “you were walking like a man absent in mind, having
your head bowed down, and noticing nothing around you. <a
name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>I passed so
near in the road, I could have touched the lappets of your coat,
but you saw me not.”</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p130.jpg">
<img alt=
"Palissy studying a shell on the sea-shore"
title=
"Palissy studying a shell on the sea-shore"
src="images/p130.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>“Nay, I saw you not, my friend, for my spirit was
engrossed because of my interest regarding the matter of some
town or fortress which might serve as a place of refuge for
exiled Christians. Having vainly sought among the plans and
figures of architects and designers for what might assist me, I
have been fain to wander among the woods and mountains, to see
whether I could find some industrious animal which might give me
a hint for my design; and, indeed, I saw a vast number of them,
which caused me astonishment at the great industry God has given
them; and I have had frequent occasion to glorify him in all his
marvels; and from one and another have gained some little aid to
my affairs; at the least, I have been encouraged to hope I might
eventually succeed. Having employed many weeks thus, during
my hours of leisure, I at length bethought me of visiting the
shore and rocks of the ocean, where I perceived so many diverse
kinds of dwellings and fortresses, which sundry little fish had
made with their own liquor or saliva, that I began to think I
might discover here what I was searching for. So I
contemplated all the different sorts of fish, beginning from the
least to the greatest, and I found things which made me all
abashed because of the amazing goodness of divine Providence,
which had bestowed such care upon these creatures. I
perceived, also, that the battles <a name="page131"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 131</span>and stratagems of the sea, were,
without comparison, greater in the said animals than in those of
the earth, and saw that the luxury of the sea was greater than
that of the earth, and that, without comparison, it produced more
fruit.”</p>
<p>“You surprise me,” said Victor, “that you
still retain this desire; for I would gladly hope and believe
that there will be no need of such a thing. Consider that
we have now peace, and also we hope there will shortly be liberty
of preaching through all France; and not only in our own land,
but throughout all the world; for it is written so in St.
Matthew, chapter xxiv., where the Lord God says, that ‘the
gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a
witness unto all nations.’ That is what causes me to
say there is no longer need to seek out cities of refuge for the
Christians.”</p>
<p>“You have not duly considered other sayings of the New
Testament,” replied Palissy, “for it is written that
the children and elect of God shall be persecuted to the end,
hunted, mocked, banished, and exiled. It is true St.
Matthew says that the gospel of the kingdom shall be preached
unto all the world; but not that it shall be received of all;
only, it shall be a witness unto all; that is, to justify those
who believe, and to condemn righteously the unbelieving. In
consequence, it is to be concluded that the perverse and
iniquitous, the avaricious and all kinds of wicked people will be
at all times ready to persecute those who by straight roads <a
name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 132</span>shall
follow the statutes and ordinances of our Lord.”</p>
<p>The amiable Victor, yielding to his friend’s superior
judgment, did not contest his opinion; but contented himself with
asking whether he had succeeded at length in the object of his
search. “I seem to myself to have done so. Look
at this shell; it was given me the other day when I was at
Rochelle, by a citizen there, named L’Hermite. It is
that of a purple murex; and yonder larger one on the desk is a
conch. They were brought from Guinea; and are both made in
the manner of a snail, with spiral lines; but that of the conch
is stronger and larger than the other. Now, the result of
my observation of these things is, that God has bestowed more
industry upon the weak creatures than on the strong; and has
given them skill to know how to make each for himself a house,
constructed on such a system of geometry and architecture that
never Solomon, in all his wisdom, could have made the like.
Considering, therefore, this proposition, I stayed to contemplate
more closely the shell of the purple murex, because I assured
myself that God had given to it something more, to make
compensation for its weakness; and so, having dwelt long upon
these thoughts, I noticed that, in the shell of the murex, there
were a number of tolerably large projections, by which it is
surrounded.” “I see what you mean; they add
greatly to its beauty and ornament.” “Do you
think that <a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
133</span>is all? No, no, there is something more.
These are so many bulwarks and defences for the fortress and
refuge of the inhabitant of the shell. Now, seeing this, I
resolved to take example from it, for the building of my
fortified town, and I took straightway a compass, rule, and the
other tools, necessary for the making of my picture.”</p>
<p>Bernard then produced the plan he had drawn, which he
described at length in his little book. As a curiosity and
specimen of ingenuity, this idea of his is exceedingly
interesting, and it shows another of the numerous subjects on
which his busy wits were exercised, and shows too, how thoroughly
his love of nature governed all his other thoughts. Who,
but an enthusiast in that delightful study, would have had
recourse to the nests of birds, and the shells of the sea, when
he wished to plan a fortress that would resist the utmost fury of
a siege?</p>
<p>At length his book was completed and printed at Rochelle, in
the year 1563, the one succeeding that of his imprisonment.
He prefixed to it three letters, written after his release,
addressed to the constable, to his son the marshal Montmorency,
and to the queen mother. Having rendered his grateful
acknowledgments to these illustrious patrons, he proceeded to
relate the particulars of the ill-usage he had received, desiring
that it might be understood that he was “not imprisoned as
a thief or a murderer.” He then went on to explain
the <a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
134</span>subjects of which his work treated, and showed that
they were, in themselves, worthy of attention, although not
couched in learned language, “seeing,” he said,
“I am not Greek nor Hebrew, poet nor rhetorician, but a
simple artisan, poorly enough trained in letters.
Notwithstanding, these things are no less valuable than if
uttered by one more eloquent. I had rather speak truth in
my rustic tongue than lie in rhetoric; therefore I hope you will
receive this small work with as ready a will as I have desire
that it shall give you pleasure.” In his address to
queen Catherine, he hinted at his readiness to be employed in her
service, and at his ability to assist much in her building work
and gardens. Nor was it long before he had an opportunity
to exercise his skill. Through the medium of his excellent
friends, the Sire de Pons and his lady, he received the tidings
that he had been chosen, in company with Jean Bullant, his
co-worker at the château d’Écouen, to assist
in the new works commenced by the queen mother. His removal
to Paris would follow, as a matter of course.
“Indeed,” said the Sire de Pons, “it is time,
Master Bernard, that you left Saintes, for many reasons.
Your position here is cramped and inconvenient. Your
enemies are but muzzled—not removed out of the way.
Your principal patrons are great men, necessarily much in
attendance upon the court; and in a remote province you can
neither receive, not execute, their commands. In Paris your
advantages <a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
135</span>will be great. You will live in constant
intercourse with men of genius, and your taste will be perfected
by the study of the choicest works of art collected in the
capital.” “Your sons, too, Nicole and Mathurin,
are now young men, for whom employment and patronage will be thus
secured,” said Madame; “and though we shall be sorry
to lose you, we cannot be selfish enough to regret an event so
fortunate for yourself and your family.” “I had
not thought,” said Bernard, “to be thus
distinguished. It is doubtless the good word of my lord,
the constable, which has gained me this appointment. I am
resolved, according to the ability I possess, to do credit to his
patronage. And this I may say, that the work which I have
wrought for him gives witness enough of the gift which God has
been pleased to bestow on me as an artist in earth. I am,
therefore, not without hope that my work may prove acceptable in
that place to which his providence now calleth me.”
“It is our purpose to journey before long to Paris,”
said the Sire, “and you can, if you think fit, accompany
us. The time is but short, ten days or a fortnight, at the
utmost; but, I doubt not, you will be in readiness.”</p>
<p>This friendly proposal was gratefully accepted, and, at the
time appointed, Palissy bade farewell to Saintes, and,
accompanied by his two sons, set off for the French capital,
which was thenceforward to be his place of residence. It
was with a full heart that he left the city which had been, for
so many <a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
136</span>years, his home; where his children had been born, and
where he had served his long apprenticeship of sorrow and trial,
and eventually triumphed over all the obstacles that threatened
to overwhelm him, and to blight his fond expectations. As
he returned, the evening before his departure, from visiting the
graves of his wife and their six little ones, while meditating,
and slowly and pensively moving onward, he was overtaken by
Victor, who had gone in search of him, anxious to spend the last
few hours in his company. They returned together, and
Victor announced to his friend a most unexpected piece of
tidings. “I shall not remain here long after you have
gone,” he exclaimed, with unwonted energy, his pale face
flushed and eager. “A kinsman of mine has this very
afternoon brought me a communication which will lead to my
removal hence, probably within a few months. Had you not
been leaving I should have felt it a grief indeed, but now, it is
well; for I could scarcely have borne your loss.”
“What has befallen, and where will you go?” asked
Bernard, in his quick manner. “My eldest brother was
killed (as you know) last year, in one of the murderous assaults
upon those of our religion. He has left a young family, and
his poor wife, who has never recovered the shock of his death, is
now sinking rapidly. She entreats me, through the kinsman
she has sent, to go back to my native place, and to undertake the
care of my brother’s children. They will inherit <a
name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>the small
property which was our father’s, and which would, in all
probability, be soon dissipated in the hands of strangers.
I have myself no family; and my wife, loving soul, will be a true
mother to these poor orphans. It seems the voice of our
heavenly Father, which is saying to us, ‘Arise and go
hence.’” “I have never heard you speak of
your early days, Victor.” “True; I was
thinking, as I came hither, of my boyhood. Happy time, and
happy household ours, where comfort and content reigned!
The property on which we all subsisted was very small; but order,
domestic arrangement, labour, and frugality, kept us above
want. Our little garden produced nearly as many vegetables
as we required, and the orchard yielded us fruits. Our
quinces, apples, and pears, preserved, with the honey of our
bees, were, in winter, most excellent breakfasts for us children,
and the good old women, our grandmother and aunts. We were
all clothed by the small flock that pastured on the neighbouring
hills; my aunts spun the wool; and the hemp of the field
furnished us with linen. In the evenings, by the light of
our lamp, which was fed with oil from our walnut trees, the young
people of the neighbourhood came to help us to dress our flax,
and we, in our turn, did the same for them. The harvest of
the little farm sufficed for our subsistence. Our buckwheat
cakes, moistened, smoking hot, with the good butter of Mont
d’Or, were a delicious treat to us. I know not what
dish we should have relished better <a name="page138"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 138</span>than our turnips and
chestnuts. When we sat, on a winter evening, round the
fire, and saw these fine turnips roasting, and heard the water
boiling in the vase where our chestnuts were cooking so sweet and
nice, our mouths watered; and the grandmother, delighted with our
childish pleasure, added, now and then, to the feast, a quince,
whose delicious perfume, while roasting under the ashes, I still
remember. Dear, kind old dame! She, with all her
frugality and moderation, nevertheless made little gluttons of us
boys. Ah! my friend, it is the women who begin it from our
cradle, and go on fondling and humouring us to the grave.
So, you see we had enough to satisfy all our wants, for, in our
household, if there were little to expend, there was nothing
lost, and trifling things united, made plenty. In the
neighbouring forest, too, there was abundance of dead wood, of
small value, and there my father was permitted to take his annual
provision. Dear and honoured father! He ruled us all,
in the fear of the Lord; and the crowning bliss of my life it has
ever been to come before God and plead, ‘Thou wast my
father’s God; be thou also my God.’”</p>
<p>How much longer Victor would have indulged in these fond
memories, cannot be told. He was interrupted by the
entrance of some neighbours who came to take leave of Palissy and
his sons, and when they had departed, the hour was late.
The two friends bent the knee together in prayer at the throne of
heavenly grace, and commended each <a name="page139"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 139</span>other to the divine protection and
favour. Victor then arose and departed; but, on the
threshold, he paused, and looking fixedly on his friend, his eyes
filled with tears, as he grasped his hand, and said, “Yes,
God is a sweet consolation.” And, with these words,
he turned away and was gone.</p>
<p>How often, in after years, did this farewell recur to the mind
of Bernard, with sweet and consolatory power!</p>
<h2><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
140</span>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“And I saw the woman drunken with the blood
of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus; and
when I saw her I wondered with great
admiration.”—<span class="smcap">Rev</span>. xvii.
6.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> present chapter will embrace
the history of ten years in the life of Palissy—years full
of terrible interest to France, during which there were two more
bursts of civil war, with intervals of peace between, and
followed by that event of world-wide renown in the annals of
crime and blood, the massacre of St. Bartholomew. During
those years Bernard was quietly and laboriously engaged,
protected from harm by the patronage of the court, and probably
also, having learned from experience the necessity of a prudent
restraint in the utterance of his opinions.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p140.jpg">
<img alt=
"Palissy dishes"
title=
"Palissy dishes"
src="images/p140.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>Arrived at Paris, he established his workshop in a place
allotted to him in the precincts of the Tuileries, and the
gardens that partly occupied the site of the new palace, and
surrounded by the debris of buildings that had to be removed, and
the scaffolding of workmen who were engaged about the new
erections. At no great distance was the Louvre itself, then
a new structure and the royal residence; and queen Catherine,
attended by her courtiers, frequently went to <a
name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>watch the
progress of the buildings, and to direct, with her admirable
taste, the works of Palissy, familiarly known as “Master
Bernard, of the Tuileries.” There is still in
existence, in the royal library at Paris, a MS., containing an
account of the queen’s expenditures, dated 1570, among
which is a note of payment “to Bernard, Nicole, and
Mathurin Palissy, sculptors in earth, for the sum of 2,600
livres, for all the works in earth, baked and enamelled, which
have yet to be made to complete the <i>quatre pans au
pourtour</i>, (the four parts of the circumference) of the grotto
commenced by the queen, in her palace, near the Louvre at Paris,
according to the agreement made with them.”</p>
<p>We are told that his taste being improved by the study of the
great works of Italian art, he became a more consummate artist,
and produced masterpieces, far surpassing his former
efforts. He found, also, much employment in garden
architecture, then greatly in vogue, and for which his larger
pieces, rocks, trees, animals, and even human figures, were
designed. A few only of these have withstood the accidents
of time, but it is known they adorned some of the sumptuous
residences of the French nobles in that day, especially the
château of Chaulnes, that of Nesles, in Picardy, and of
Reux, in Normandy. His smaller productions, designed to
ornament rooms, and to find a place in the buffets and cabinets
of the wealthy, were very numerous; and such as have been
preserved are highly valued, <a name="page142"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 142</span>as works of art, at the present
time. Statuettes, elegant groups, ewers, vases, with
grotesque ornaments, plates, rustic basins, cups, tiles for the
walls and floors of mansions, as well as for the stoves used on
the continent; all these, and many similar articles, were made in
great perfection by our skilful artist. <a
name="citation142"></a><a href="#footnote142"
class="citation">[142]</a> Working thus, with busy hands
and inventive skill, Palissy saw the years pass by, and beheld
strange scenes, far exceeding in fearful interest all he had
formerly witnessed.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p142.jpg">
<img alt=
"A Palissy pitcher and Dish"
title=
"A Palissy pitcher and Dish"
src="images/p142.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>He spoke from experience when he said, “If you had seen
the horrible excesses of men that I have <a
name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 143</span>seen,
during these troubles, not a hair of your head but would have
trembled at the fear of falling to the mercy of men’s
malice; and he who has not beheld such things, could never think
how great and fearful a persecution is.” He had
scarcely become settled in his new occupation when the
“Second Troubles” broke out; and one of the first
victims of the war was his great patron, the constable
Montmorency. Upon the tenth of November, 1567, the battle
of St. Denys was fought outside the walls of Paris, when the aged
constable, at the head of his army, in fine array, with colours
flying and drums beating, marched out to meet the foe. The
heights of Montmartre presented, on that occasion, a strange
spectacle. They were crowded with eager spectators, in the
highest excitement; all the busy, restless population of the
great city flocking there, to gaze upon the scene of
warfare. Priests chanting litanies and distributing
chaplets to the warriors, foreign ambassadors, fair ladies
dressed as Amazons, some even carrying lances, which they
vibrated in the air, and magistrates and doctors, wearing
cuirasses beneath their robes; a motley crowd of every rank and
condition huddled together, with mingled curiosity and terror,
waiting the result of the fight.</p>
<p>The short winter’s day was closing fast when the battle
commenced, and an hour of bloody strife followed. The
result was fatal to the gallant old veteran, whose resolution and
bravery led him to <a name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
144</span>push forward into the midst of the Huguenot
ranks. Five times was he wounded, yet still fought on, and
then received the mortal stroke, and was left, stretched, amid
the dead and dying, on the field. Still living, though
suffering deadly agony, he was borne back within those walls he
had left in so different a manner but a few hours before.
The night was dark and rainy, his pains were grievous, and he
desired to breathe his last where he lay; but those around
intreated that he would suffer himself to be carried to Paris,
where he died on the following day, preserving to the last a
surprising fortitude and endurance.</p>
<p>The court ordered a magnificent funeral for the grim old
warrior, whose rugged and austere manners had rendered him so
obnoxious to many, and whose religious bigotry was but too much
in accordance with the spirit of his times. At his own
request he was buried at his favourite estate at Écouen,
where Palissy had so long wrought in his service. To
Bernard he had proved a generous patron and a steady friend, and
his hand had been outstretched to save him from the gallows.</p>
<p>Would that this had been done from a higher motive than the
love of art! Then he might one day have been among the
number of those to whom shall be addressed the joyful words,
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”</p>
<p>Happily, it is not necessary for this narrative to <a
name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>dwell upon
the well-known story of the massacre. Its fearful horrors
are but too familiar to every reader of history. Bernard
escaped being an eyewitness of them, as he happened to be at the
time occupied about one of those commissions to which we have
alluded, and which had carried him to Chaulnes, where he laid out
the park according to a plan resembling that he described in his
“Delectable Garden.”</p>
<p>There was one among the numerous men of science with whom
Palissy associated who narrowly escaped destruction. This
was Ambroise Paré, first surgeon to the king, who seems to
have been a truly pious and excellent man. Having embraced
the Reformed tenets, he steadily adhered to them, and despite the
dangers of his situation, persisted in openly avowing his
principles. As he had drawn upon himself the odium of
heresy, and in addition to that, the rancorous jealousy of a host
of practitioners in his art, he was a marked character; and
Charles IX., who owed his life to the skill of Paré, and
is said to have “loved him infinitely,” took measures
to secure his safety. “I will tell you, my
friend,” said he, describing that eventful night to
Bernard, “how it fared with me, and what I saw and
heard. I was in attendance upon the admiral <a
name="citation145"></a><a href="#footnote145"
class="citation">[145]</a> till late into the night, and was on
the point of leaving him, when one of the royal hussars came,
bringing a summons <a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
146</span>to me to repair immediately to the king. I
obeyed, and found him in evident trepidation. As soon as he
saw me, he exclaimed, ‘It is well that you have come, my
dear Ambroise; you must remain with me this night, and in my
chamber.’ So saying, he put me into his dressing
room, adding, ‘Be sure you don’t stir from
hence. It will never do to have you who can save our lives,
massacred after this fashion.’ My hiding place
adjoined a saloon where the king remained, and to which, after
midnight, the queen came, evidently for the purpose of watching
over her son. Four of the principal agitators were present,
all urging him to preserve his courage, while his mother
endeavoured, by every means in her power, to irritate his fiercer
passions, and to silence his remorse. Though I could not
hear all that passed, a few words occasionally reached my ears,
and the appearance of Charles, and the words he had spoken to me,
sufficed to convince me that a terrible crisis was at hand.
At length a single pistol-shot rang through the silence. It
was dark, the morning had not yet dawned, when at that signal,
through the deep silence of the night, the tocsin of St.
Germain’s was heard uttering its dreadful alarum. The
queen and her two sons came, with stealthy tread, to the windows
of the small closet through the king’s chamber, which
overlooked the gate of the Louvre: and there those three
miserable and guilty beings, opening the window, looked out, to
watch the first outbreak of <a name="page147"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 147</span>the dreadful tragedy.
Presently shouts were heard of ‘Vive Dieu et le Roi,’
and armed men, issuing from the gates, trampled along the
causeway, hastening to perform their bloody work.</p>
<p>“About five in the morning, I ventured to quit the
dressing room, and, eager to see what was passing, gazed from one
of the windows which looked in the direction of the Fauxbourg St.
Germain’s, where Montgomery, Rohan, Pardaillan, and many of
the Calvinist gentlemen lodged. As you know, it lies upon
the opposite bank of the river from the Louvre; all had hitherto
been quiet in that direction, but the sound of the tocsin, and
the cries and screams which were heard across the river, had
roused the Huguenots, who, suspecting some mischief, hastily
prepared to cross the water and join their friends; but as they
were about to embark, they saw several boats filled with Swiss
and French guards, approaching, who began to fire upon
them. It is said the king himself, from his closet window,
was seen pointing and apparently directing their movements.
They took the hint in time to save their lives by flight.
They mounted their horses, and rode off at full
speed.” “Thanks be to God, they escaped, as a
bird from the hand of the fowler. May they live to avenge
the blood of the saints.” “I shall never
forget,” continued Paré, “the scene, when the
broad light of an August day displayed, in all their extent, the
horrors which had been committed. The bright, glowing sun,
and the <a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
148</span>unclouded sky, and magnificent beauty over-head; and at
our feet, the blood-stained waters of the Seine, and the streets
bestrewn with mangled corpses. It was too terrible.
To crown the whole, it was the holy sabbath.</p>
<p>“Towards the evening of the second day, the king called
again for me. Sickened with horror and remorse, his mind
and spirits were giving way. ‘Ambroise,’ said
he, taking me into his cabinet, ‘I don’t know what
ails me, but these last two or three days, I find both mind and
body in great disorder. I see nothing around me but hideous
faces, covered with blood. I wish the weak and innocent had
been spared.’ I seized the moment of relenting in the
unhappy monarch, and urged him to put an immediate stop to the
massacre, and he did, in effect, issue orders by sound of
trumpet, forbidding any further violence to be committed, upon
pain of death.” “Alas!” said Palissy,
“no hand was outstretched to save our French Phidias, Jean
Goujon, the master of my comrade and co-worker, Bullant. He
was struck down on his platform, while working on the Caryatides
of the Louvre; with his chisel yet in his hand, he fell a corpse
at the foot of the marble his genius was moulding into
life.” “No power could restrain the violence of
the rabble. In vain were the royal commands, and useless
every effort of the bourgeoisie, and the higher orders. Day
after day the barbarous slaughter <a name="page149"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 149</span>continued. Ah! my
friend,” concluded Paré, “that fatal night
will form a black page in our history, which Frenchmen will
vainly desire to erase, or to tear from its
records.”—(“Feuillet de notre histoire à
arracher, à brûler.”)</p>
<h2><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
150</span>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“He spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and
of creeping things, and of fishes.”—1 <span
class="smcap">Kings</span> iv. 33.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">We</span> learn from his own words that
king Solomon, amid all his magnificence and glory, found nothing
truly satisfying to his spirit. He discovered that silver
and gold, and costly apparel, and singing men and singing women,
with all the luxuries of the East, sufficed not to give him
happiness. They did not even keep him amused: he wanted
something better. And a purer, more refined, and enduring
delight was tasted by him when he turned the powers of his active
and inquiring mind to the investigation of nature, the works of
God’s hands, in the diversified and beautiful productions
of the fields, woods, and lakes of Judea. He sought them
out diligently, and then he “spake of”
them—spake of the richly-varied productions of the animal
kingdom, and “spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of
creeping things, and of fishes.” Very interesting it
must have been to hear the great Solomon speaking of these works
of God’s hands, and no wonder the sacred writers have
recorded the fact. Most edifying of all to the thoughtful
part of his audience it <a name="page151"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 151</span>would be to reflect on the moral
phenomenon he himself presented—taking his refreshment, his
recreation, his pleasure, after the toils and disappointments of
riches and of worldly honours, in considering the lilies, how
they grew, and the fowls of the air, how God cared for them.</p>
<p>But if Solomon found, in this pursuit, a relief from ennui and
satiety, how many, in all succeeding times, have found therein
support and consolation amidst inevitable anxieties and painful
trials. There have been persons who declared that it was
the study of nature alone which made their condition tolerable,
by diverting their minds from painful and oppressive
thoughts. It must have been the same experience which
caused Palissy, amid the terrible scenes of his day, to retire
into his cabinet, or to wander in the roadside, among the fields
and caves, searching after “things note-worthy and
monstrous,” which he “took from the womb of the
earth,” and placed among his other treasures, the
accumulated hoard of long years. We find him the same
Bernard still—unaltered by time and change of fortune; as
simple-minded, as diligent in research, and as enthusiastic in
utterance as at Saintes, in the days of his youth. He had
found, too, some congenial associates and friends. Among
them, we have seen, was Ambroise Paré, who had a great
taste for natural history, and himself possessed a collection of
valuable and curious specimens, especially of foreign birds, for
which he was principally <a name="page152"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 152</span>indebted to Charles IX., who used to
send him many of the rarest and most valuable he obtained, to
preserve.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p152.jpg">
<img alt=
"Palissy exploring a quarry"
title=
"Palissy exploring a quarry"
src="images/p152.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>There was, too, one “Maistre François
Choisnyn,” physician to the queen of Navarre, a special
favourite with Bernard, of whom he says—“His company
and visits were a source of great consolation to me.”
These two went a little geological exploration together, in the
year 1575. “He had heard me often speak,” said
Palissy, “of these matters, and knowing that he was a lover
of the same, I begged him to accompany me to the quarries, near
St. Marceau, that I might give him ocular proof of what I had
said concerning petrifactions; and he, full of zeal in the
affair, immediately caused waxen flambeaux to be brought, and
taking with him his medical pupil, named Milon, <a
name="citation152"></a><a href="#footnote152"
class="citation">[152]</a> we went to a place in the said
quarries, conducted by two quarrymen; and there we saw what I had
long before known, from the form of stones shaped like icicles,
having seen a number of such stones, which had been brought, by
command of the queen mother, from Marseilles; also among the
rocks on the shores of the river Loire. Now, in those
quarries we saw the distilled water congeal in our presence,
which set the matter at rest.” Another day, walking
with his friend, he found himself, while wandering over the
fields, very thirsty, and passing by some village, asked where he
could meet with a good spring, in order to refresh <a
name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>himself;
but he was told there was no spring in that place, all their
wells being exhausted on account of the drought, and that there
was nothing but a little muddy water left in them. This
caused him “much vexation,” and expressing his
surprise at the distress suffered by the inhabitants of that
village through want of water, he proceeded to explain to his
companion his theory on springs, in which he propounded a
doctrine which the science of the present day has pronounced
absolutely correct. <a name="citation153"></a><a
href="#footnote153" class="citation">[153]</a></p>
<p>This subject led Bernard to recur to the home of his early
manhood, and he added, “At Saintes, which is a very ancient
town, there are still found the remains of an aqueduct, by which,
formerly, they caused the water to come from a distance of two
great leagues. There are now no ancient fountains; by which
I do not mean to say we have lost the water-courses, for it is
well known that the ancient spring of the town of Saintes is
still on the spot where it formerly existed; to see which, the
chancellor De l’Hôpital, travelling from Bayonne,
turned out of his way to admire the excellence of the said
spring. Now, in the neighbourhood of Saintes, is a small
town called Brouage, situated on the coast amongst the marshes of
Saintonge. Its name points out its nature, the word
‘brou,’ <a name="page154"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 154</span>meaning, marshy soil. That
said town has undergone two sieges during the civil wars; the
last in the year 1570. When besieged, it suffered much from
want of water, and I am, at the present time, preparing an
advertisement to the governor and inhabitants thereof, to explain
to them that the situation of the place is very commodious for
making a fountain there, at small expense.”</p>
<p>“Your mention of this reminds me,” said his
companion, “of the remarkable manner in which the city of
Nismes fell into the hands of the Huguenots, some four or five
winters ago.”</p>
<p>Palissy expressed a wish to hear the particulars, with which
he was but imperfectly acquainted; and as the story affords a
striking instance of the spirit which animated even obscure
individuals in the cause of religion and freedom, it shall be
told here.</p>
<p>The governor of Nismes, a ferocious old man, had treated the
Huguenots with the utmost barbarity, and had plundered and
banished great numbers of them, who had retired to a neighbouring
town. Among those left in Nismes was a carpenter, named
Maderon, who resolved to deliver the town into the hands of his
exiled brethren, and for that purpose took advantage of the
famous fountain, the abundant waters of which flowed between the
gate of Carmes and the castle, through a channel which was closed
by a grate. Just above, and close by the castle, a sentinel
was placed, who was relieved every hour. When he was about
to leave he was <a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
155</span>accustomed to ring a bell, in order to advertise the
soldier who was to relieve him, to come and take his place.
A short interval always elapsed between the departure of one
soldier and the arrival of the other, and Maderon having observed
this, undertook, in those moments, to file asunder the bars of
the grate.</p>
<p>He executed his purpose thus. In the evening he went
down into the ditch, with a cord fastened round his body, the end
of which was pulled by a friend when the soldier quitted his
post, and again, when the other arrived. Maderon worked
during these few moments, and then ceasing, waited in patience
till another hour elapsed. In the morning he covered his
work with mud and wax. In this manner did this
indefatigable man work for fifteen nights, the noise he made
being drowned by the rushing of the waters. It was not till
his work was nearly completed that he informed the exiles of his
success, and invited them to take possession of the town.
They appear to have wanted courage for the undertaking; and while
irresolute, a flash of lightning, though the weather was
otherwise serene, terrified and put them to flight; but their
minister, pulling them by their sleeves, exhorted them to come
back, saying, “Courage! this lightning shows that God is
with us.”</p>
<p>Twenty of them entered the town, and being joined by others
who were exasperated at the cruelty of the governor, it was
taken, and the castle <a name="page156"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 156</span>surrendered a few days after.
“That was truly an admirable occurrence,” said
Bernard. “And the results were very important, since
the town, by the large supplies it afforded, was of great service
to the army of the princes during the ensuing
spring.” “There will doubtless be many
historians who will employ themselves upon these matters,”
said Palissy; “and the better to describe the truth, I
should think it wise that in each town there should be persons
deputed to write faithfully the things that have been done during
these troubles. I have myself already given a short
narrative of what befell when I was resident in Saintonge, and I
have left others to write of those things which themselves have
witnessed. At present I am engaged in preparing a volume of
Discourses on Natural Objects, of practical use to agriculturists
and others, and I purpose, in the Lectures I have just commenced,
to discuss various positions with reference to these matters, to
which end, as you know, I have invited interruption,
contradiction, and discussion, from those who may attend
them.”</p>
<p>Palissy referred, in these words, to an undertaking which we
find he commenced in the Lent of the year 1575, and which he
carried on, for several seasons, annually.
“Considering,” he says, “that I had employed
much time in the study of earths, stones, waters, and metals, and
that old age pressed me to multiply the talents which God had
given me, I thought good to bring forward to light those <a
name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 157</span>excellent
secrets, in order to bequeath them to posterity.”</p>
<p>But, like a true philosopher, he was anxious, first, to
subject his theories to the test of keen criticism. Free
discussion was, he knew, the best friend to the true interests of
science, and he resolved, therefore to invite about him the most
learned persons then resident in the capital, and to meet them in
his lecture room to state to them his opinions, and to hear their
arguments in reply. He set about doing this in a peculiar
manner, which he describes. “Thus debating in my
mind, I decided to cause notices to be affixed to the street
corners in Paris, in order to assemble the most learned doctors,
and others, to whom I would promise to demonstrate, in three
lessons, all I have learned concerning fountains, stones, metals,
and other natures. And, in order that none might come but
the most learned and curious, I put in my placards that none
should have admission without payment of a dollar. I did
this partly to see whether I could extract from my hearers some
contradiction which might have more assurance of truth than the
arguments I should propound; knowing well that, if I spoke
falsely, there would be Greeks and Latins who would resist me to
my face, and who would not spare me, as well on account of the
dollar I should have taken from each, as on account of the time I
should have caused them to misspend. For there were very
few of my hearers who could not elsewhere have extracted profit
out <a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 158</span>of
something during the time spent by them at my lessons.
Also, I put in my placards that if the things therein promised
did not prove trustworthy, I would restore the
quadruple.”</p>
<p>The result of this experimental course was most
successful. “Thanks be to God,” says the
triumphant lecturer, “never man contradicted me a single
word.”</p>
<p>Of the character of the audience whom Palissy attracted around
him in his museum (as he called his cabinet of natural history),
on this occasion, we are fully informed. He has given a
list of more than thirty of them, including many skilful
physicians, celebrated surgeons, grand seigneurs, gentlemen, and
titled ecclesiastics, also some of the legal profession, and
others, who were drawn together by a common love of scientific
research. These were no idlers, but an assemblage of the
choicest students—a sort of Royal Society, instituted for
the occasion—who sat listening to the self-taught
philosopher, the wise and vigorous old man, who, illustrating his
cases as he went on, by specimens of the things about which he
spoke, turned his cabinet into a lecture-room, where he delivered
the first course of lectures upon natural history ever given in
the French metropolis, held in the first natural history museum
ever thrown open to the public there. Supported by the
favourable opinion of such judges—than whom he could not
have “more faithful witnesses, nor men more assured in <a
name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
159</span>knowledge,” Bernard “took courage to
discourse” of various matters concerning which he had
attained a surprising degree of knowledge.</p>
<p>The science taught by the self-educated potter was such as has
entitled him, in the present day, to the admiration of men like
Buffon, Haller, and Cuvier.</p>
<h2><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
160</span>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
<blockquote><p>“Be thou faithful unto
death.”—<span class="smcap">Revelation</span> ii.
10.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“<span class="smcap">The</span> number of my years hath
given me courage to tell you that, a short time since, I was
considering the colour of my beard, which caused me to reflect on
the few days which remain to me before my course shall end: and
that has led me to admire the lilies and the corn, and many kinds
of plants, whose green colours are changed into white when they
are ready to yield their fruits. Thus, also, certain trees
become hoary when they feel their natural vegetative power is
about to cease. A like consideration has reminded me that
it is written, ‘Better is the fool who hides his folly,
than the wise man who conceals his wisdom.’” We
are peeping over Palissy’s shoulder as he bends his silvery
locks over his writing-desk, and commences the dedication of his
last volume of “Admirable Discourses.” Its
superscription is as follows:—“To the very high and
very powerful lord, the sire Antoine de Pons, knight of the order
of the king, captain of a hundred gentlemen, and his
majesty’s very faithful counsellor.” It is to
his ancient <a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
161</span>patron he pays this tribute of loving respect.
The good old sire was probably still more aged than himself, but
his friendship had stood the test of years, and their intercourse
had been renewed “in these later days,” with mutual
pleasure and edification; their conversation having often turned
on “divers sciences; to wit, philosophy, astrology, and
other arts drawn from mathematics,” in which,
“without any flattery,” Bernard declares himself
convinced of the venerable knight’s marvellous ability,
which “length of years had but augmented, instead of
diminishing therefrom.”</p>
<p>It is pleasant to find Bernard thus steadfastly retaining the
friendship of earlier years, but far more satisfactory to
perceive that he had preserved his religion pure, and that the
source whence his activity in the pursuit of knowledge was
derived remained the same. At the close of a pious and
laborious life, he remembered there was still something left
which he might do. He had learned the wonderful secrets of
nature to the glory of Him who had given him the hearing ear, and
the seeing and observing eye; and now, recurring to the ruling
motive of his life—that solemn idea of
responsibility—he says, “It is a just and reasonable
thing that the talents a man has received from God, he should
endeavour to multiply, following his commandment. For which
reason I have studied to bring unto the light the things of which
it has pleased God to give me understanding. Having seen
how many pernicious <a name="page162"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 162</span>errors have been set abroad, I have
betaken me to scratch in the earth for the space of forty years,
and search into the entrails of the same, in order to understand
the things which she produces in herself; and by such means I
have found grace before God, who has caused me to understand
secrets which have hitherto been unknown even to the
learned.”</p>
<p>The book, thus dedicated and prefaced, contained the mature
fruit of his studies as a naturalist. It is a collection of
short treatises upon waters and fountains, metals, salts, stones,
and earths, fire, enamels, and many other things, besides a
treatise on marl, “very useful and necessary for those
concerned in agriculture.” It was published at Paris
in the year 1580, when its author was more than seventy years of
age.</p>
<p>Four years later he was still lecturing in his museum,
wandering out, now and then, to the river side and elsewhere to
find an illustration of some lesson he was teaching. Thus,
one winter’s day, he was seen standing beside the Seine,
opposite the Tuileries, surrounded by a throng of listeners and
objectors, among whom were several of the boatmen, who persisted
in maintaining what Palissy was combatting: namely, that the
floating masses of ice upon the river came from the bottom of the
water. Among those who listened with interest and
discernment to his instruction was the Sieur de la Croix Dumaine,
who afterwards, in a volume published in <a
name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>1584,
described Palissy as “a natural philosopher, and a man of
remarkably acute and ready wit, flourishing in Paris, and giving
lessons in his science and profession.”</p>
<p>His was a vigorous old age, and he looked so much younger than
he really was, that the Sieur supposed him little more than
sixty. He might, in all probability, have continued thus to
lecture and discourse about the wonders of the earth and waters
some years longer; yet, even a few months later we should have
vainly sought him in his beloved museum, or on his pleasant
rambles around the environs of Paris. He was no longer
there, but immured within the walls of yon grim
fortress—</p>
<blockquote><p>“That shame to manhood, and opprobrious
more<br />
To France, than all her losses and defeats<br />
Old, or of later date; by sea or land;<br />
Her house of bondage, worse than that of old<br />
Which God avenged on Pharaoh—the Bastile.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Although in his lectures and in his book he had abstained from
all allusion to the struggles of the times, he was well-known for
a staunch Huguenot, a man whom nothing could induce to change or
to conceal his religion. They were indeed “evil
days” in which his lot was cast. It had been sorrow
and trouble enough to live in Paris then, and behold the vice,
frivolity, and riot which prevailed. True, most true it is,
that “between the excesses of depravity, and those of
bigotry, there exist remarkable and intimate
affinities.” Nowhere was this more <a
name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 164</span>strikingly
exemplified than in the French court and capital during the rule
of the house of Valois. The religious ideas of a court in
which fanatical intolerance reigned, give sufficient proof of
this. The vilest and most sanguinary passions were excited
by the ceremonies of religion. The sermons of “the
League” preachers were like torches, which set the kingdom
in a blaze. The most impious and revolting spectacles were
presented to the eyes of the mob. Thus, at Chartres, after
the day of barricades, a Capuchin monk in the presence of Henry
III., represented the Saviour ascending Mount Calvary. This
wretched priest had drops of blood apparently trickling from his
crown of thorns, and seemed with difficulty to drag the cross of
painted card-board which he bore; while, ever and anon, he
uttered piercing cries and fell beneath the load. The king
himself, utterly steeped in the vicious pleasures of the court,
became a member of the brotherhood of Flagellants, and, in a
solemn procession, king, queen, and cardinal, headed the white,
black, and blue friars, as they traversed the city barefoot, with
heads uncovered, chaplets of skulls around their waists, and
flogging their backs with cords till the blood flowed. The
atrocities committed within many of the churches by the soldiers
of “the League,” it is impossible here to
relate. Since the massacre of St. Bartholomew the mobs of
Paris had become familiar with blood, and a spirit of increased
ferocity prevailed. <a name="page165"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 165</span>Assassinations, tortures, and
executions were frequent, and the extreme Roman Catholic party,
to which the city had, from that time, been heartily attached,
was pledged to exterminate the Huguenots.</p>
<p>At the head of “the League” was the Duke of Guise,
the hero of the violent among the Roman Catholics, whom they
desired to make king, instead of the worthless and despised
Henry. At length, in the year 1585, the king, finding no
other way of saving himself from the imminent peril which
threatened him, made peace with the duke at the expense of the
Reformers, and issued a decree, prohibiting the future exercise
of the Reformed worship, and commanding all its adherents to
abjure, or emigrate immediately, on pain of death and
confiscation. This was no miserable court quarrel; it
affected the interests of all, and touched the liberty, faith,
fortune, and life of every man. So rigorously was the edict
carried out, that the petition of a few poor women, who begged
permission to dwell with their children in any remote corner of
the kingdom, was refused. The most they could obtain was a
safe conduct to England. Flight was out of the question for
Palissy; and he remained at the mercy of men who respected
neither age, virtue, nor misfortune. That he had friends
who would gladly have protected him was known; nay, the king
himself would willingly have sheltered one who had so long and
skilfully served his mother. But the <a
name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>protection
of the court was now unavailing; and the venerable man was sent
to the Bastile.</p>
<p>Four years of life yet remained to Bernard; all spent within
the walls of his prison-house. There, in communion with God
and his own soul, he passed the residue of his days, shut out
from the eye of man, within that gloomy fabric, the very thought
of which inspires one’s soul with shrinking horror.
Profound secrecy and mystery were among the most prominent
features in the management of the Bastile, and he who was
retained there to waste away life within its damp and dismal
cells, was sedulously kept from all knowledge of what was passing
in the busy world without, while no tidings of him were ever
permitted to reach the ears of his kindred and former
companions.</p>
<p>Debarred from the enjoyment of the beautiful sights of nature,
the treasures of intellect, and the delights of social converse,
fearful, indeed, was the lot of such a prisoner, unless sustained
by divine consolations. We know not in what words our
beloved Palissy would have clothed his thoughts, could he have
spoken to us from his living tomb; but the following passage,
contained in the narrative of one who was for some months a
prisoner there, affords a pleasing example how, even in such
circumstances, the soul has been sustained in hope.
“I recollect,” says the narrator, “with humble
gratitude, the first idea of comfort that shot across this
gloom. It was the idea that neither massive walls, nor
tremendous <a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
167</span>bolts, nor all the vigilance of suspicious keepers,
could conceal me from the sight of God. This thought I
fondly cherished, and it gave me infinite consolation in the
course of my imprisonment, and principally contributed to enable
me to support it with a degree of fortitude and resignation that
I have since wondered at: I no longer felt myself
alone.” So true it is,</p>
<blockquote><p>“Stone walls do not a prison make,<br />
Nor iron bars a cage;<br />
Minds innocent and quiet take<br />
That for a hermitage.<br />
If I have freedom in my love,<br />
And in myself am free,<br />
Angels alone, that soar above,<br />
Enjoy such liberty.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And Palissy was a true Christian. He was free with the
freedom wherewith Jesus Christ makes his people free.
Therefore, as an old and faithful servant of the Lord, he was
willing, for the testimony of Christ, to suffer affliction, even
unto bonds; nay, he counted not his life dear unto him, so that
he might win Christ, and be found in him.</p>
<p>One glimpse we have within his dungeon. Its doors are,
for once, unbarred, and we are permitted to look, for the last
time, at him whose history we have lovingly retraced.</p>
<p>Sentence of death, executed upon many who had remained staunch
in their refusal to obey the royal edict, had been deferred, in
the case of Palissy, only <a name="page168"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 168</span>by the artifice of friends in
power. But now, at length, the formidable Council of
Sixteen became urgent for the public execution (already too long
deferred) of so obstinate a heretic.</p>
<p>The king was loath to yield to these barbarous and
bloodthirsty counsels, and determined to try what a personal
interview might effect in bringing the recusant to a more pliant
mood.</p>
<p>He went, accompanied by some of his gay courtiers, to visit
and remonstrate with Bernard, whom he found not solitary, for his
captivity was shared by two young girls, the daughters of Jacques
Foucand, the attorney to the parliament, condemned, as he was,
for the firm faith and resolute tenacity with which they refused
to yield to the threats of their persecutors.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<a href="images/p168.jpg">
<img alt=
"The King visiting Palissy in his dungeon"
title=
"The King visiting Palissy in his dungeon"
src="images/p168.jpg" />
</a></p>
<p>“My good man,” said the king, addressing himself
to Bernard, “for many years you have been in the service of
our family, and we have suffered you to retain your religion
amidst fires and massacres; but at present I find myself so
pressed by the Guises and my own people, that I am compelled to
give you into the hands of my enemies. These two poor
women, whom I see with you, are to be burned to-morrow; and so
will you, unless you be converted.”
“Sire,” replied Bernard, “I am ready to yield
up my life for the glory of God. You say you feel pity for
me. It is rather I that should pity you, who utter such
words as these, ‘I am compelled.’ This is not
the language of a king, <a name="page169"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 169</span>and neither yourself nor the Guises,
with all your people, shall compel <i>me</i>; for I know how to
die.” “What an impudent rascal!” said one
of the courtiers, who afterwards recorded the scene he had
witnessed; “one might have supposed that he knew that line
of Seneca, ‘Qui mori scit, cogi nescit.’” <a
name="citation169"></a><a href="#footnote169"
class="citation">[169]</a></p>
<p>Two months later there were fagots blazing in the Place de
Grève, and monks gesticulated around the fires which were
consuming to ashes the “two poor women” of whom the
king had spoken, and who had found grace to continue steadfast to
the end.</p>
<p>But Palissy still lived. Some powerful arm had sheltered
him, and he was saved from the fiery trial. A few months
longer he remained captive in the bonds of his prison-house, and
then the message came for him also, Thou hast been faithful unto
death, “I will give thee a crown of life.”</p>
<p>He died in the Bastile, in the year 1589.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p style="text-align: center">THE END.</p>
<h2>NOTES.</h2>
<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4"
class="footnote">[4]</a> “A true Recipe, whereby all
the inhabitants of France may learn to multiply and augment their
possessions.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote58"></a><a href="#citation58"
class="footnote">[58]</a> They occupy forty-five plates in
volume vi. of the “Musée des Monuments
Français.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60"
class="footnote">[60]</a> By the body of his countrymen in
his own day, his teaching was disregarded, and his writings
passed, after a time, into unmerited oblivion. There were,
however, a few who made practical use of his suggestions; and of
the application of his theory on springs a most remarkable
instance is on record.</p>
<p>Coulange la Vineuse, in Burgundy, was a place in which there
was much wine and little water. In fact, the town was
entirely destitute of that necessary element. Thrice had it
fallen a prey to alarming conflagrations, and great efforts had
been made, though with fruitless labour and expense, to supply
its natural deficiency. At length the domain of the town
having come into the possession of the chancellor
d’Aguesseau, he invited M. Couplet, a distinguished
mathematician and hydraulist, to consider the case, in September,
1705, the dry month of an unusually dry year. M. Couplet
had studied the theory of springs as contained in the writings of
Palissy, and to such good purpose did this shrewd pupil apply the
knowledge he had derived from the pages of Master Bernard, that
he was enabled to point out to his employer, not only on what
spots to dig, but at what depth he would find water. In
three months his prophecies having been fulfilled, a plenteous
supply of water was brought into the town. The joy exceeded
that of the most profitable vintage time; men, women, and
children ran to drink; and the judge of the town, a blind man,
travelled out, incredulous, to wave the waters through his hands,
as a miser fingers gold. The grateful inhabitants testifiod
their feelings by a device representing Moses bringing water from
a rock encircled with vines, with the words, <i>Utile dulci</i>,
and a laudatory inscription.</p>
<p>Mr. Morley, in his Life of Palissy (after quoting this
anecdote from the quarto edition of his works), says,
“Palissy has a statue somewhere I think. This, among
other pictures, would look well upon its pedestal.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77"
class="footnote">[77]</a> “Die Asche will nicht
lassen ab,<br />
Sie staübt in alle Landen.<br />
Hie hilft kein Bach, noch Loch, noch Grab.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote82"></a><a href="#citation82"
class="footnote">[82]</a> The pottery made by Palissy (of
which, under the name of Palissy Ware, exquisite specimens are
still existing) was very characteristic of himself. He was
a naturalist, and had a keen, innate love of the beautiful.
To reproduce, in his works, the bright colours and elegant forms
of the plants and animals on which he had so long and so often
gazed in the woods and fields was his delight, and he founded his
reputation on what he called rustic pieces. The title which
he took for himself was, Ouvrier de Terre, et Inventeur de
Rusticities Figulines—Worker in Earth, and Inventor of
Rustic Figulines (<i>i.e.</i>, small modellings). These
were, in fact, accurate models from life of wild animals,
reptiles, plants, and other productions of nature, tastefully
introduced as ornaments upon a vase or plate. His rich
fancy covered his works with elaborate adornment; but all these
designs were so accurately copied from nature, in form and
colour, that the species of each can be readily recognized, and
there is hardly found a fancy leaf, and not one lizard,
butterfly, or beetle, which does not belong to the rocks, woods,
fields, rivers, and seas of France.</p>
<p><a name="footnote93"></a><a href="#citation93"
class="footnote">[93]</a> Radiata.</p>
<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95"
class="footnote">[95]</a> Sixty-three years after this
time, these opinions of Palissy concerning stones were
propounded, in a public disputation by three savants (one of them
an inhabitant of Saintes). The faculty of theology at Paris
protested against their doctrines as unscriptural. The
treatises were destroyed, and the authors banished from Paris,
and forbidden to live in towns or enter places of public
resort. It was only the contemptuous neglect in which
Palissy was held, that saved him from a similar fate.</p>
<p><a name="footnote126"></a><a href="#citation126"
class="footnote">[126]</a> “Francis the First has
plainly foretold,<br />
That they of the household of Guise<br />
Would clothe their children in purple and gold,<br
/>
But the poor folk only in frieze.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote127"></a><a href="#citation127"
class="footnote">[127]</a> “Justum et tenacem
propositi virum<br />
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,<br />
Non vultus instantis tyranni<br />
Mente quatit solidâ, . . . ”</p>
<p><a name="footnote142"></a><a href="#citation142"
class="footnote">[142]</a> The master-pieces of Palissy
adorn the private collections of the wealthy and noble
continental amateurs. Mr. Marryat, in his history of
pottery, says, the most extensive and complete collection of his
Fayence crockery exists in the Musée Royale, in the
Louvre, and in the Hôtel de Cluny; purchased since the
death of its late proprietor, M. de Sommerard, by the French
government. “These magnificent specimens,” he
says, “have been eagerly bought up, from a just
appreciation of the merits of their talented and much persecuted
countryman.” Mr. M. gives the following description
of the Fayence of Palissy. “It is characterized by a
peculiar style and many singular qualities. The forms of
his figures are generally chaste. The ornaments, the
historical, mythological, and allegorical subjects, are in relief
and coloured. The colours are generally bright, but not
much varied, being usually confined to yellows, blues, and grays,
though sometimes extending to green, violet, and brown. The
enamel is hard, but the glaze is not so good as that of Delft,
and he never succeeded in attaining the purity of the white
enamel of Luca della Robbia.” “At a sale at
Phillip’s, of Palissy ware, belonging to M. Roussel, of
Paris,” it is added, “an extraordinary large vase,
enriched with boys in relief, supporting flowers and fruit in
festoons, with masked heads, on a fine blue ground, and snake
handles, sold for £57 15s. A very curious
candlestick, with perforated work and heads in relief sold for
£20; equal to $100.”</p>
<p><a name="footnote145"></a><a href="#citation145"
class="footnote">[145]</a> Coligny, who had been wounded by
the dagger of an assassin only two days before.</p>
<p><a name="footnote152"></a><a href="#citation152"
class="footnote">[152]</a> Afterwards first physician to
Henry IV.</p>
<p><a name="footnote153"></a><a href="#citation153"
class="footnote">[153]</a> It is worthy of note, that a
work of great pretensions, published by French naturalists,
(“The New Dictionary of Natural History,
1816–1830,”) two hundred and fifty years after
Palissy’s demonstrations, gives an incorrect theory on this
subject.</p>
<p><a name="footnote169"></a><a href="#citation169"
class="footnote">[169]</a> “He who knows how to die
cannot be compelled.”</p>
<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PALISSY THE HUGUENOT POTTER***</p>
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