“A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.”—Proverbs xvi. 9.

Victor 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.

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. I passed so near in the road, I could have touched the lappets of your coat, but you saw me not.”

Palissy studying a shell on the sea-shore

“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 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.”

“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.”

“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 shall follow the statutes and ordinances of our Lord.”

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 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.”

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?

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 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 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.”

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 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 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 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.’”

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 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.

How often, in after years, did this farewell recur to the mind of Bernard, with sweet and consolatory power!