No. 190.]

ELIZA

JOURNAL

RETIRING TO THE COUNTRY.

PEOPLE who have habitually lived in London are wont to imagine that by distancing themselves from the great metropolis, and retiring to some sequestered hamlet, village, or town, they shall escape the criticism of neighbours' prying observation, scandal, gossip, visiting and being visited, receiving and leaving cards, the necessity of dress, show, and all those other social evils to which civilized flesh is heir. If, however, this idea has hitherto prevailed amongst a large class of humanity, it is with a pleasant sort of triumph, I feel assured, that the perusal of the history of my persecutions will tend to change this opinion.

My income having been considerably reduced by a series of causes, into which it is perfectly unnecessary to enter, I found myself reluctantly called upon to make that attempt which seems to be of all things else the most difficult and unpleasant of accomplishment, viz., a reduction of one's establishment. Being quite unwilling to expose to my town friends the state of my finances, or to move under meaner auspices in a circle where my dinner-parties had been renowned for their excellence and completeness,— where my wife and children had sustained a reputa tion for unimpeachable taste, elegance, and style, even though at the expense of an only late-averted bankruptcy, I proposed to my family to retire awhile into the country until we should be able to recover our lost position, before the keensighted throng by whom we were surrounded should discover in the stagnation of our domestic circle that there was something wrong.

Taking the map of England, therefore, I scanned it for the purpose of selecting some out-of-the-way place where we should be able to maintain a perfect incognito, and appear at the same time as respectable, easy circumstanced. Every name familiar to me, either by personal knowledge, or the converse of friends, I rejected with scorn. They were not rural spots,--not sufficiently distanced from the great metropolis. After long search, I chose the small, little-known town of, in Berkshire, five miles distant from a railway station, and for this destination, I accordingly one morning set out. There was an air of so much repose brooding over the little place when it first burst upon me in all the beauty of

[PRICE 1d.

a spring morning,—the straggling streets were so peaceful, the ivied church reared its ancient turret in such venerable solemnity, -the peaceful square, which it seemed a mockery to call a market-place, struck me as possessing a powerful charm after the bustling scene I had so lately quitted; and I unhesitatingly agreed to visit the old-fashioned cottage, with its weed-filled garden, on the outskirts of the town-if such it could be called, and hurried back to fetch my family down to this retreat of peace, where, it seemed, we should be distanced from all the tumultuous passions of life,-where our very existence would be unnoticed,-where we might dress, act, speak, and do just as we pleased. For a day or two, everything went on remarkably well; there was a charming novelty in having to wait the pleasure of the few country tradespeople, and receiving such messages as, Mr. Reatley, the carpenter, would feel obliged if Mr. Simpson could defer his little job until next week, as he had some work to do for Lord T―, which he had promised faithfully to finish in a day or two; or, Mr. Hopkins would be happy to repair the kitchen grate the day after to-morrow; or again, the charwoman would be disengaged on Saturday, but not before. But when we had slept a week on the floor, and cooked our dinner in the parlour, and worked. our only servant to death, we began to have a slight notion that there was an unpleasant sort of independence about these country tradespeople, infinitely jarring to my nerves, and opposed to my convictions of right and wrong.

The spot, to which we scarcely hoped civilization had penetrated, was, it seemed, far advanced in certain notions of stations, respectability, and so forth, and judged people and things in a sort of offhand practical manner,-very beneficial, doubtless, to their own interests, but superlatively disagreeable to us. The truth of the inattention showed us, however, only came out at a much later period. With a velocity far exceeding that of the electric telegraph, within a few hours of our arrival, the following facts had been disseminated through the town,-handed from butcher to baker,-from baker to grocer,listened to by servant girls and footboys, carried to their masters' kitchens, and whispered in toilet conclave to their mistresses' ears.

"That we only kept one servant, (and that a mere girl, equivalent to nothing); that our furniture was

of the plainest description; that our dress was shabby beyond measure; that myself and eldest sons walked from the station instead of having a second fly; that our name was Simpson, and therefore vulgar; that, in short, we were nobodies,-whom it was not worth while to overload with attentions, or to manifest any delight in serving."

For the time, however, we remained in blissful ignorance of the position to which our kind townsfolk had assigned us, and pursued the even tenor of our way, regardless of looks and surmises, although wondering that so few of the inhabitants called upon us. The head doctor, however, was the first to make his appearance,-ingratiated himself into my favour by his gentlemanly demeanour,-conversed with gentleness and suavity upon the scenery,inquired if we had ever visited the place before, -told us the names and residences of the surrounding gentry, of the "families," about; and after distri buting a few jocose remarks amongst my children, departed, satisfied that he had secured the practice. Then followed some persons holding an anomalous position in the town, such as retired drapers, grocers, &c., &c. By-and-by a few more of the respectables -other surgeons, and the lawyer, the clergyman, of course; but here the civilities ceased; and after having returned the calls, we waited quietly in retirement for whatever should turn up.

Our own pleasures, however, consisted in simple gratifications, of which, in the lovely weather of spring, we could avail ourselves without being indebted to any one for them; and what with walks, and excursions, and reading, and gardening, I and my sons felt perfectly contented, while my wife and daughters found a novel delight in the practice of duties which it had not before been incumbent upon them to perform. We had never been happier, and the secret charm of our position was its extreme novelty we wondered how, surrounded by these magnificent landscapes-this clear air-these lovely walks these brilliant sunsets and verdant meadows, people could ever weary of the country. Living within ourselves, and having no channel through which to receive the gossip of the town, we for a long time understood nothing of the voxtex of scandal-bearing, tale-telling, gossiping, manoeuvring, intriguing, by which we were surrounded.

:

When the long winter evenings came, however, we began to wish that we were acquainted with some one family who could by their presence enliven us occasionally. My sons longed for some companions, my daughters for just a little change. The roads were impassable from mud, and as we could not afford even the luxury of a donkey-chaise, the girls were compelled to stay at home. The landscape had deteriorated since the spring; there was not a newspaper to be borrowed; the circulating library contained only a few of the worst Minerva-press novels, and our own stock of books had been read to satiety.

In this emergency we resolved to give a party, and invited most of those who had called upon us, imagining that in a quiet country town, etiquette was not so tightly strained, perhaps, as to exclude people, who, although of obscure origin, could sustain the same establishments as their neighbours. In fact, we scarcely gave the matter a thought, dismissing our notes of invitation with a sort of confidence that they would be accepted, and never deeming that their receipt would arouse all the latent dignity of lawyers', surgeons', and small gentry's wives; that it was necessary to know who beside was asked before any one actually accepted; so that we received a number of droll notes half accepting,-some saying they would come should nothing unforeseen prevent them.

Through various channels, however, it appears that all particulars got abroad about our reunion, and before the night arrived, the whole town knew better than we did ourselves precisely who were asked, and who were not; what we had projected for supper, and that our sweets and pastry were homemade; what we had had from the confectioner's; how many fowls were to be roasted; where we bought our ham; with many other etceteras to numerous to mention.

The evening came; my daughters, in their pale blue dresses and simple adornments. looked as lovely as I had ever seen them in their softest and most expensive of all costumes of another day. Besides, there was a certain tender association in my heart connected with them; they stole before my sight unburdened by the alarming accompaniment of a milliner's bill, since my sweet girls, wishing in every way to accommodate themselves to their position, had dispensed, since our residence in the country, with all such aids, fancying no one would know it. But alas, we found that 66 no one" in a country town constitutes a very large proportion of the inhabitants. My wife was satisfied with the appearance of the supper table, at which she and the girls had taken many a peep since the morning to see if anything was wanting, or if it at all resembled by dint of artificial flowers and quantities of glass, the elegant paraphernalia once in their power to use in the adornment of the table.

Our rooms were rather small than large (a little crushing had with us been fashionable), and we had invited just as many as would render us comfortable. The first application made to our knocker was a servant with a note from Mrs. Henry Hart, the surgeon's wife, apologising for her late change of purpose; but the sudden indisposition of one of her household would compel her to decline the extreme pleasure she had promised herself in spending the evening with ourselves and family. Our favourite

doctor Mr. Richard Steele-dropped in shortly afterwards, and he was present at the numerous notes and hurried apologies I received, until we sat down almost alone to eat our little supper, my wife and daughters disconsolately surveying the preparations on which they had expended so much care. I could not refrain from expressing my wonder at the state of things to the doctor, after the departure of the one or two guests (consisting of Mr. Barber, the retired draper, his wife and family, very nice, homely people; Mr. and Mrs. Chillgrove, who were now nothing, and had been also nothing in their younger days) who had honoured us with their presence. With a quiet smile Mr. Steele immediately gave me an elucidation of the mystery, telling me that, in a small town like this, there was so much party feeling, so much opposition in social matters, so much petty jealousy, so much pride, so much affectation, that Mrs. I- would not go where she was at all likely to meet Mrs. K; that Mrs. Buttercup and her daughters, whose father had made a fortune by bricklaying in the town, was now too high and mighty to associate with Mrs. Stanley, whose father was only about to retire from business. The surgeon's wife, from Wantage, because her family was related, through some seventieth degree, with the aristocracy of the country, would not associate with the lawyer's wife, whose origin was traceable to something like a clergyman's family at Reading.

In short, our unfortunate party only brought out or laid before us the actual condition of affairs, to which before we had been blind. Our doctor initiated us very speedily into the state of feeling prevalent in this quiet, rural place, almost beyond the precincts of civilization, or rather that artificial

process by which natural men and women are converted into stone automatons. We found that even those that could keep handsome establishments, -live in handsome houses,-dress in a handsome manner, who had made their fortunes by speculation, merchandise, or any other similar source, and over whose heads a whole generation had passed since the disgraceful fact of having attained an independence by their wits or energies-even these were not admitted within the sacred precincts of the "old family society," and were therefore compelled to form a coterie, from which they, in like manner, excluded all retired tradespeople, those who had risen from nothing to independence; so that these again, in order to do as others did, formed another sub-society, from which all present dealers in merchandise all still serving in shops-were utterly excluded, compelling these again to fall back upon themselves; the large shopholder associating with his fellow-the smaller with his fellow; and so on, until the charwoman that worked at Lord B's, held her nose above the charwoman that worked at Sir W. M's. We at last discovered that the only gentility of the town was concentrated in the persons of the surgeons, lawyers, clergymen, and who, boasting of high descent and unimpeachable family trees, suffered this shadow from the past to supply the place of the substance of the present. There could be no society while these things continued, and so we discovered.

"I see

After we had lived a little longer, we became more and more amalgamated with the general mass, a few of the dishes of scandal were insensibly drifted towards us, and we gathered from the conversations concerning others what were probably those held about ourselves. Returning from church one morning, I sauntered along, threading my way between the groups, who, in close conclave, with bonnets huddled in each others' faces, were, as I imagined, discussing the nature of the sermon. No such thing. The first observation arrested my attention; and without intending it, I heard a great many more:-"Did you notice Mr. So-and-so? why, he was asleep during the whole service." Mrs. Lamb is wearing the same bonnet she wore last summer-there must be some reason for that." "And the Miss Larkings, were they not preposterously dressed? I wonder what Mrs. Wilkie's bonnet was made of I tried to get near, but could not." "Oh, I determined the minute she came into church, that before I left I would find out." "It was very ugly." "Oh, she has shocking taste." "How plain Miss Paisley looked to-day." "Mr. L- did not come to church with Miss Poulter." "Oh, they say that affair is broken off." "Indeed." "I'll tell you how I know. Betty was in Mr. Bentham's shop last night, and heard Mary, their servant, telling all about it." "Have you heard that the new-married couple lead a shocking life." "Talking of the Mertons, they have put down their carriage- some failures, I suppose." "There is something the matter, too, at Glen Cottage, only I should not like it repeated-of course not.' And so on, from the one to the other, did the chit-chat go. I began to get thoroughly out of patience with the whole home-going congregation, when I heard-"the Miss Simpsons, indeed; I wonder who they are!-a petty London tradesman's daughters: would you believe it-they do half the work themselves, keep one servant, and then hold their heads high!" The ironical laugh which followed this very witty sally rather irritated my parental feelings; besides, did I look or feel like a tradesman ? I soothed myself, however, as well as possible and returned home in a semi-philosophical mood, almost ready to devote myself for ever to the bitterness of

Rochefoucault, and deny the world and its inhabitants a single virtue.

The country was fast beginning to lose its charm; and as the spring came on, another evil made itself felt. My friends in town had "AT LAST found out my retreat (extraordinary that they should have omitted to notice certain letters addressed to them on my leaving town), and in playful badinage reproved me for making myself a hermit,-talked of how they missed me,-longed for my return to town. Very gratifying. But, somehow or another, the conclusion of these epistles was not equally so. It seemed that my long absence had rendered the feelings of my friends so sensitively alive to my merits, that nothing but a meeting in the fresh air of the country would satisfy them; for they one and all invited themselves down to my retreat in such an easy, good-humoured, hospitable way, that it was quite impossible to refuse them. One had sprained his ancle, another had been reading too hard, another had sustained a domestic affliction in the loss of a wife, another had overrun the constable; and it really seemed as if a few days in the country was a panacea for all these ills.

What could I do? I could not refuse; the only satisfaction I could get out of the matter was, that they could not come all at once, for my house was quite small enough as it was; and to accommodate our visitors everyone was packed nowhere,-I hardly knew where to find my own children, half a dozen being packed into a garret,-my daughters in the servant's room,-the maid in the kitchen-all to make room for my visitors from London! I invited each time as many as the house would contain, in the hope that each batch would be the last but no, the whole metropolis appeared to be pouring down upon us, week after week; our passage was continually jammed up with trunks departing, or boxes or carpetbags arriving; how d'ye do, and good-by, the order of the day; my wife eternally planning meals; the smell of ham and coffee hovering all morning about the passage; my daughters in everlasting conclave about the arrangement of beds, the altering of rooms, making of puddings and pies; provisions always arriving and departing; the servant, it seemed, never in bed; my sons trudging backward and forward to the station, either to meet some one or see some one off; a continual running up and down stairs; showing people "our town," and the "landscape;" a perpetual calling for pipes and glasses, cigars and coffee; the bells ringing; doors opening and shutting; slamming; breaking; everybody in everybody's way; until I began to think within myself that retiring to the country was, under our peculiar circumstances, at all events, a very uncomfortable sort of thing: and when our last visitor had actually departed, I began seriously to contemplate what retiring to some quiet place in town would do to restore our peace of mind.

PALISSY THE POTTER. *

IN a former number of this journal,+ when noticing Mr. Joseph Marryatt's valuable work on the history of ceramic manufactures, we expressed a wish to know more of Bernard Palissy than could be gathered from the necessarily brief sketch of his labours therein contained. That desire is fully satisfied by Mr. Morley, whose volumes may be described as an annotated autobiography. The most touching scenes

The Life of Bernard Palissy, of Saintes; his Labours and Discoveries in Art and Science; with an outline of his Philosophical Doctrines, &c. By Henry Morley. London: Chapman & Hall.

† No 109.

of domestic misery,-the patient, toilsome, and oftentimes unsuccessful experiments of the simple-minded but earnest Palissy are told in his own quaint and felicitous language, in passages from his writings skilfully interwoven with the general narrative. To the same primary source we are also indebted for some painfully interesting delineations of the political and religious aspect of the times in which he lived-the persecutions of the Huguenots particularly. In this way the author has succeeded in furnishing both an interesting and instructive work-one that relates the inmost thoughts and the external operations of the subject of the memoir, and exhibits, moreover, in clear and palpable form the spirit of the times in which he had his being.

There is some uncertainty about the year when Bernard Palissy was born. Mr. Morley fixes it at 1509, "with a concession that this may be wrong within a limit of six years on either side." The place of his birth is also involved in some obscurity; one authority bestows this honour upon the poor hamlet of Chapelle Biron, near to the town of Biron, in Perigord, in the diocese of Agen, and our author states it was "somewhere in the diocese of Agen." Of Palissy's parents, too, we know very little. There is good reason for supposing that his father was not overburdened with worldly wealth, and that he followed the craft of a glass-worker. Bernard was educated no better than a peasant's son, except that he taught himself to read and write, and, as he says of himself, "God has gifted me with some knowledge of drawing." It is perhaps worthy of remark, that the trade of his father-that of a 66 glass-painter and worker generally in painted glass" "-was a pursuit followed only by "penny-needing nobles," and that Palissy the potter had uncommon blood in him.

While a boy, his observant and inquiring mind was active. He cared little for book learning, and prided himself somewhat on the fact that he was ignorant of Latin and Greek-the "test of educa tion" at that time, as now with some folks. But, after all, young Palissy rather profited by this circumstance, as it saved him from "a wilderness of theory," and left his mind to the unrestrained study of the ways and processes of nature. It is to be supposed, moreover, that in the usual course, he assisted his father in his trade, and thus fitted himself to enter upon the sterner duties of manhood.

Arrived at about eighteen years of age,-with a vigorous constitution and a spirit of adventure lurking in his breast,-Palissy set forth from his native hamlet to look on men and things in other parts of France. He tells us that portrait-painting, at which he was clever, was an art falling out of request; and that glass-painting was little patronized in the rural district of Agen. But he hoped, we suppose, that these unprofitable talents would serve him on the road,--furnish him with the means of subsistence, while he was also increasing his store of knowledge, -as they did in fact for nine or ten years.

It is curious to notice the growth and expansion of the artist's ideas during these journeyings. It was of course impossible for Palissy to expect employment or patronage from the poor and lowly,-it was to the rich and great that he must direct his attention. This much we may be certain of, although we have but a very general knowledge of his mode of life or pursuits during the period we now refer to. But yet it was in these wanderings that his mind gathered up the facts upon which his opinions were built, and that caused him afterwards to so firmly espouse the Reformed Religion. The countries through which he travelled were dotted over with castles and fortresses, and painted glass windows commonly ornamented these rude homes of soldiers, priests, and nobles,

whose rapacity and lust Palissy was withal obliged to witness in silence, for they were his paymasters and patrons. His income, while on travel, it is needless to observe, must have been precarious and scanty. Although we have but few particulars left us of his mode of life at this time, we may safely infer so much; and Mr. Morley, in an early chapter, draws a likely picture of the wandering artist and philosopher, engaged on a small commission,-putting a new cheek on St. Martin's face,-when the appearance of a lordly urchin, the son of the lady of the house, supplies him with a hint of which he takes advantage. "Palissy had a proper sense of business, and enough knowledge of the maternal nature to suggest to him, that it would be wise quietly to sketch the child and suffer it to show the picture to its mother;" and the experiment being satisfactory, he "left the massive country house with good proof of metallic testimonials that he was competent to earn his living." In addition to these two pursuits— portrait-painting and glass-working-Palissy, who had learned geometry, also obtained occasional employment at land-surveying; and thus he wandered over a large part of France, while Paracelsus was stirring up the minds of the learned in medicine, and Luther was rousing a religious conflict in Germany; while Calvin, in France, with less fervour, perhaps, but with great success, was preaching and writing in favour of his own peculiar tenets-to which Bernard Palissy became a convert.

At length Palissy got married and settled in the town of Saintes, at about the twenty-ninth year of his age, and somewhere about A.D. 1538. He here followed the same various pursuits by which he had i earned his bread while travelling, until accident set him to work in a new direction. The current of his married life seems at first to have run through smooth waters; but in time he grew tired of "labouring for bread among the narrow-minded people of the narrowstreeted Saintes,-dissatisfied with labour that produced food, and only food." Glass-painting, we have his own authority for stating, had become a thriftless occupation, and the more lucrative occupation of a land surveyor was less to be depended on perchance, because commissions came more rarely and at wider intervals of time. His family was moreover increasing, and with the increase of domestic blessings came attendant responsibilities. Yet it is unfair to attribute the mental dissatisfaction and restlessness of Palissy to any external source. He was now thirty-one years of age, with unwasted intellect, and imbued with lofty aspirations-promptings of the inner soul, -which seemed to say, Bernard Palissy, thou art worthy of better things than a long drudge through life with no higher aim than to get bread by meriting the patronage of nobility.

While such thoughts as these were passing through the breast of Palissy, an incident occurred which brought out all the latent moral heroism of his character, and rendered good service to art and manufactures. This circumstance is thus related by Bernard in quiet and modest terms. "I was shown," he says, "an earthen cup turned and enamelled with so much beauty, that from that time I entered into controversy with my own thoughts, recalling to mind several suggestions that some people had made to me, in fun, when I was painting portraits. Then, seeing that these were falling out of request in the country where I dwelt, and that glass-painting was little patronised, I began to think that if I should discover how to make enamels, I could make earthen vessels and other things very prettily, because God had gifted me with some knowledge of drawing," This is the commencement of the veritable life of

Bernard Palissy, the potter. Before him all was

dark and obscure there lay the earthen cup, elegantly turned and enamelled: where it had been made, how it had been made, or by whom it had been made, he was profoundly ignorant. But there it was. And so, to borrow the words of Palissy again, he set to work regardless of the fact, that he had no knowledge of clays, and began "to seek for the enamels as a man gropes in the dark."

The cup, there is reason for believing, was of Italian manufacture, from the pottery of Lucca della Robbia, who brought this manufacture to great perfection, and his enamels were always (at least the white enamels) superior to those of Palissy. But at this time the wares made in France were of the coarsest description, and no man in the kingdom was able to make an enamel. To accomplish this, then, Palissy devoted the whole of his skill and energies.

But it must be remembered that Palissy was a comparatively poor man, and while he determined on the pursuit of the unknown, he wisely resolved that his leisure, and such moneys as he could spare, after provision had been made for his family, should alone be given this object. Ah! how many other men of like character have set out with the same resolve? The imaginative reader, can perhaps form an idea of the continual conflict in the mind of Palissy-the endeavour to hold fast by his determination, and the frequent temptations to break it by sacrificing to his darling pursuit those hours necessary to his ordinary business and the requirements of his family. Had Palissy been an unmarried man, his biographer suggests he might have travelled into Italy, and by visiting the potters as he had done the alchymists previously, have learned their secrets; but we rather doubt if so simple and so sturdily honest a man would have condescended to such an expedient. However, we are saved all speculation on this head by the facts within our reach. We know that he did not do so; nor have we any solid reasons for supposing that he ever contemplated it.

The white, he conceived to be the basis of all other enamels, and to this discovery he therefore confined his early efforts. How he proceeded his own pen shall tell the reader. "Without having heard of what materials the said enamels were composed, I pounded in those days all the substances which I could suppose likely to make anything; and having pounded and ground them, I bought a quantity of earthen pots, and after having broken them in pieces, I put some of the materials that I had ground upon them, and having marked them, I set apart in writing what drugs I had put upon each as a memorandum; then having made a furnace to my fancy, I set the fragments down to bake." The account which he gives us of his various endeavours to fuse his chemicals -his labours, watchings, hopes, fears, and disappointments, are deeply interesting. At first his materials would not melt at all; his oven, at one time too hot, was again too cold; then he succeeded in heating it to the required degree; but he had not fuel-woodenough to maintain the fire. At one time, finding himself likely to be ruined by the cost of his earthen pots, and drugs, and fuel, he arranged with the nearest potter to "fire" his experiments. But in this he made a grand miscalculation-the heat which served to fire rude earthen pots would not liquify his chemicals; and his money, time, labour, and thought, were wasted. Again he built himself a model furnace --or one as near to his liking as his means would permit; he got together fuel enough for an experiment, and the drugs were melted. Yet here he encountered fresh trials, that overwhelmed him, he tells, with "sorrow and confusion." The particles of flint from his furnace, and the dust from his fuel, adhered to the glaze and spoiled his wares. Then

he bethought him of using guards, that he styled lanterns, corresponding, we may presume, in some measure, to the saggers used by modern potters,-and so conquered this difficulty. Thus, after sixteen years of constant thought and almost constant effort in the one direction, sixteen years of anxiety and suffering hopefulness, the white enamel was discovered.

But we must turn back for a few moments to scan

those sixteen years. At one time-just as it seemed

to the artist he had arrived at the solution of his difficulty-he was compelled by poverty, the remonstrances of his wife, and urgent family necessities, to concentrate his labours on his usual and proper trade. It chanced also about this time that the king required a survey of the salt marshes-or, to be intelligible, we should say salt manufactories of Saintonge, and Bernard Palissy received the royal commission to execute this work, the payment for which enabled him to restore something like comfort to his desolate home, and to save enough money to resume his search for the white enamel. His wife, it seems, did not share in equal degree the enthusiasm of her husband "the artist in earth" and with Mr. Morley we ask, what modern woman, with a family of half-famished, ill-clad children, would have contentedly witnessed experiments whereby the "bread of her offspring was lessened?" Palissy has recorded something of her frequent midnight remonstrances, and tells us that she more than once proclaimed his sins to the other good housewives of her acquaintance, whereby he became an object of reproach throughout the town of Saintes. On one great occasion poor Palissy, it seems, having exhausted his own means, borrowed money of friends, purchased and prepared his ingredients, lighted the furnace in an outhouse at the rear of his dwelling, and sat day after day, and night after night, watching the heated mass. His children brought him food, and wood to pile upon the fire as long as his store would last; but the materials did not melt; more fuel was wanted. tore up the palings around his garden-that garden on which he had lavished so much industry and taste, -and one by one the pieces were consumed. Still the chemicals did not melt; still more fuel was wanted. He sallied into the house. Tables and chairs were, we are told, broken up and sacrificed at the shrine of the white enamel. His household furniture was exhausted, and still the ingredients were unmelted. More wood must yet be had. Palissy did not hesitate, although his wife was terror-stricken, and his little ones dismayed. He tore up the floor and used the planks to feed the furnace; his wife rushed frantic through the streets, proclaiming the mischief that her husband was perpetrating on his house and his household. And this experiment, like many a previous one, turned out a failure.

He

It will be seen, from the preceding incident, how arduously, and at what sacrifice of personal comfort Palissy pursued his object. But he did not despair. "Sorrow and confusion," he tells us, often took possession of him: Despair is a word he never uses. When fairly and thoroughly beaten he would, for a while, lay aside his experiments, compose himself, as if he were not zealous to dive into the secrets of enamels," and shortly return again with renewed vigour to his silently cherished design.

66

We have already hinted at Palissy's attachment to the reformed religion. It is no part of our purpose to follow Mr. Morley through the very excellent resume of cotemporary history that he furnishes; but it is a remarkable and a pleasant feature in the character of the artist, that while his thoughts were so engrossed, as we have seen, with material things, he found time and money to bestow in aid of the persecuted faith. He it was who formed the nucleus