Kitabı oku: «Palissy the Huguenot Potter», sayfa 2

CHAPTER III

“Here is the patience of the saints; here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus.”

– Rev. xiv. 12.

Of 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.

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 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 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.

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. 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.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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; 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.”

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 apple 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 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.

“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.”

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 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 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.

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. 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.

CHAPTER IV

“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.”

– Jer. xviii. 3, 4.

Shortly 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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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.

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 feel such joy as made me think I was become a new creature.”

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.

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 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.

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.”

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.

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 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!

“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.”

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 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.”

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.’”

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 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 to give the potter all his meals, and to lodge him for six months, putting the cost down to the account of Bernard.

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.

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.