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      Palissy the Huguenot Potter / A True Tale

      PREFACE

      The 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.

      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.

      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 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.

      So with the religious events narrated: they are given from his work, “Recepte Vèritable, par laquelle tous les hommes de la France,” etc.1 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.

      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.

      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.

      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.

      Norwich, November, 1858.

      CHAPTER I

      “And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man according to his several ability.”

      In 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 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.

      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.

      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 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.

      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, on the works of God and the productions of human skill.

      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.

      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 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.

      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

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