“The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”—Job i. 21,

Some six or seven years have passed away since we last saw Palissy; and it is now the month of February, 1557 . . .

“The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away”

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, “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.

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.

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.

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.

They spoke, as was natural, first of the domestic circumstances of Palissy, and of the bereavement 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.

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 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.”

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.

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 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.”

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 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 the Parable of the Talents, 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; 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.

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 Bernard Palissy.

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 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.” This was the great cardinal truth which Palissy taught, and which his hearers received in the love of it.