in frequent potations of the good old wine of the country. Bernard Palissy, the master of the house, was a tall handsome fellow, with sparkling eyes and jovial countenance, both of which were not a little excited by the pleasures of the table, and by joy at meeting an old friend who had just returned from the Holy Land, whither he had gone to accomplish a vow, and returning home by Italy, he was enabled to answer the numerous questions put to him by Palissy, whose curiosity he gratified by a thousand interesting anecdotes of his long travels. The mistress of the house zealously performed her part in the hospitable reception of the traveller; her kind attentions were only interrupted by her desire to listen to the animated recitals of their friend Robert. She was leaning on her husband's shoulder for that purpose, when the young traveller suddenly broke off his discourse, with the exclamation, "Ah, dear me! Maitre Bernard, but I am forgetting to show you a nice present I intend offering your wife. Where have you put my trunk, Dame Catherine ?" "It has been taken into your bed room, Robert,” replied Bernard Palissy; " and I am now going to fetch it." A few moments after, Robert showed his friends a porcelain cup of great beauty, which he purchased from a Jew at Florence. Palissy looked at it with the most intense curiosity---“ What a pity that such an art should be lost," said he," and what a service that person would render his country, who should succeed in finding out the process by which the ancients were enabled to cover their pottery with so exquisite a glaze---thanks, worthy Robert, thou didst not forget, in thy long absence, thy old friends,---thou hast a noble heart, Robert; I only wish thou were not so flighty." "Never mind, Bernard, I shall be wiser by and bye. I have still Germany to see, for I have not yet visited that country; in a few years I shall come back, and Dame Catherine will be on the look out for a good wife for me, one just like herself, and I shall settle near thee; our evenings shall be passed in friendly chat; and then it will be my turn to regale my old friends." Already Bernard Palissy's attention was withdrawn from the lively conversation of his guest; his eyes were fixed on the porcelain cup; and his mind appeared to be so absorbed, that his wife was scarcely able to rouse him for the purpose of bidding a last farewell to Robert, whose departure was to be with the dawn next morning. Seven years after the period at which this story commences, Robert came back to Saintes, full of joy and hope. His affairs had prospered, and his first thoughts were of his friends, for, unfortunately, he had no longer on this earth any relatives of his own. He knocked at Bernard's door. No answer. Feeling uneasy, he enquired of the neighbours, who informed him with evident sorrow, that Dame Catherine lived in the garret of a wretched house in the lower part of the street, opposite the large iron cross. What a sight for the affectionate heart of the worthy traveller, a woman haggard, and prematurely old from misery and want, with eyes inflamed by continual weeping, and children covered with rags! Poor Catherine was spinning coarse wool; but on seeing her old friend she burst into a flood of tears "What's the matter, Dame Catherine?" said Robert, "Is it not a frightful vision that I behold?-I fear even to ask. But, no, tell me your sorrows; I am here; I can console you; I have more than sufficient wealth for us both dear unhappy friend, accept, I pray thee, the hand I offer; it is God who sends it to you!" Catherine sighed deeply, and related the long story of her misfortunes. Robert's fatal present had solely caused them! Bernard full of the hope that he should be able to discover the lost secret of glazing earthenware, clung to it with invincible obstinacy. By degrees, he neglected those occupations which enabled him respectably to support his family; wholly renounced his profession of land-surveyor; and finally ruined himself by a thousand fruitless attempts. He got into debt, and to avoid a prison, was obliged to fly from his home, "Alas!" continued the poor woman, "we have all of us our faults to confess; I myself, as well as others; for, soured by disappointment, I no longer felt any respect for my wretched husband, whom, however, I still loved with all the tenderness of my first affection, God knows it! I added to his sufferings, for I loaded him with cutting reproaches, insulted and ill-treated him; I even raised the neighbourhood against him, for I hoped to have forced him to renounce his extravagant pursuits; but it was all to no purpose. He was mad, and you now see, Robert, to what a state I am reduced. One day, I had just left him, after a scene of the most violent reproaches, which he bore with patience. As I was leaving the room, I cast a look of pity on him; he was seated opposite a lighted furnace ; his arms folded across his panting chest; his face red, almost roasted; his whole figure black and frightfully thin; for more than a month he had been in a constant fever; his fingers had lost all their skin, and were wrapped in bits of old rag; our eldest boy was standing close by him, crying piteously. Horror-struck, I ran to lock myself in my room, where I was weeping bitterly, when all of a sudden I heard a knock at the door. It was my child, that came to ask for more wood, his father having consumed all he had; he only wanted, he said, enough for one hour's work, as he was certain of complete success. I refused with harshness; Bernard went out, and sought for some every where; but I was before hand with him, and he was repulsed at every house. I soon heard a dreadful crash! You can well judge what a state of alarm I was in, on seeing Palissy return in a frightful rage, breaking every thing, smashing all the furniture, even to the cradle of our youngest child, which he was in the act of flinging into the furnace! I threw myself at his feet; he spurned me from him; some neighbours entered who found me senseless. On coming to myself, I learned that a great crowd of people had assembled round our door; that Bernard's life was threatened, and that he luckily escaped by jumping out of the window. Our house was sold—a charitable lady has taken pity on me, and given me this refuge. The poor man often lets me hear of him, and without making known his retreat, sends me occasionally a little money, telling me to be of good cheer, and not despond." "And, why not be of good cheer!" my dear Catherine, cried Robert. "In the mean time accept this, and many days shall not elapse before you see me again." Robert made enquiries every where, and rested not, till he had found out Palissy's retreat and brought him back secretly with him to Saintes. Many and long discussions they held together. Robert was at length persuaded that his friend's project was likely to succeed. Palissy's perseverance quite affected him. He paid his debts, and generously_offered him large sums, on condition of being paid in case of success. For three long years did Bernard Palissy labour, cheered by the encouragement of his friend and benefactor. What a triumph! what a glorious day was that, in which the whole town came to see specimens of porcelain, covered, not only with the most beautiful, but the most solid glaze, ornamented too, with figures and objects designed and coloured with perfect taste, which even now, in the 19th century, may be admired in the Museum of the Royal Manufactory of China near Sévre at Paris. Ten years of incredible sufferings were obliterated by the joy of this day. Catherine, mute with happiness and repentance, pressed her husband's hands to her heart. Robert intoxicated with delight, loudly proclaimed his friend's glory. Bernard himself, calm and modest, received, with smiles, the felicitations of those who only a short time before had heaped reproaches and insult on him. Fortune now showered down her favors. Charles the Ninth of France, desired to see him; he was received and lodged in the royal palace of the Louvre, and means were furnished to enable him to found several porcelain manufactories. Palissy likewise instituted courses of natural philosophy and natural history in Paris, which were frequented by the most A 30] Portrait of a Friend, who died in Switzerland. [JANUARY, learned men; and he it was, who first ascertained the fact, that fossil shells were truly shells, which up to that time was not credited, and which subsequently opened new roads to science. Many other important discoveries are also due to him. Whether Bernard Palissy was a Protestant or not, we have no information; but we know that he was immured in the Bastile during the war of religion which desolated France during the middle of the sixteenth century, and died in that fortress, at the advanced age of 90 years. PORTRAIT OF A FRIEND, WHO DIED AT YVERDUN, From the French of the late M. Hennezel. Your eyes upon this portrait turn, Alas! such friends as I deplore, We lose too soon, and find no more. Handsome, not vain, tho' gentle, valliant, One suit of clothes for dress sufficed; And the clear fountain quench'd his thirst. In friendship tender and unchang'd; He would have followed me for nought; Of friends, alas, it is the fate To quarrel and repent too late; Behold him as he was, described, UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF THE LATE S. T. COLERIDGE. I SHALL now lay before my readers a few more selections from the correspondence of Coleridge.* In the spring of 1819, the late William Blackwood, who had then just started his celebrated Magazine, (I think about eighteen months before), and who was anxious to obtain for its support the pen of every distinguished writer, being in London, requested me to give him a letter of introduction to Coleridge. I did so. A few days afterwards, I received the following note from him : DEAR SIR,-I have had an interview with Mr. Blackwood, and it seems not impossible that we may form some connection, on the condition that the Magazine is to be conducted henceforward,-first, pure from private slander, and public malignity; second, on principles the direct opposite to those which have been hitherto supported by the Edinburgh Review, moral, political and religious. I am sure, it is time for all good men who love the constiution, not only to unite, but to use all honourable means by vehicles, of diffusing the right feelings and principles. -We can condole with you regarding your health: for we are a household of invalids. Do give us, shortly, a proof of your convalescence, by taking the fresh air on the top of Highgate. Yours, obliged, S. T. COLERIDGE. 19th March, 1819. This note speaks highly for the correct moral feeling, which at all times directed the literary labours of Coleridge. Money was to him then, as indeed it always was, needful. But he would not earn it by even indirectly associating himself with a periodical, which at that time was regarded, by many, as seeking good ends by questionable means. When Blackwood's Magazine first appeared in the field, it contained several articles which partook of much personal virulence, and some that fell far short of that high, uncompromising, and energetic character, both in morals and politics, which has since rendered it so distinguished. The object, in fact, then was, to produce a sensation, by dashing and fearless opinions, that would make people talk about it, and so, grow into notice. This object was speedily attained; but many, while they admitted the talent with which the articles were written, condemned their severity, and, more particularly, the personalities that were somewhat too freely indulged in. Hence the conditions which Coleridge stipulated for, previously to becoining himself a writer for it; but I believe he did not contribute much. The following fragment requires a little prefatory explanation. Shortly after the death of the late Queen, (Charlotte-not Caroline, of factious memory), I received a letter from Coleridge, in which he said, "I have written a column or more on the character of the late Queen, in connection with the prevailing tendency among a numerous party to asperse their superiors. I hope you will be pleased with it. There are two pages more which you may depend on being left at the office, before six o'clock to-morrow evening." The " two pages more" never made their appearance; but, as I knew Coleridge's reluctance to resume an unfinished labour, I was not disappointed. This, however, was not all. Of the portion actually sent, one page was missing; and, when I apprised him of this mishap, I had the following whimsical explanation of it. That which follows the explanation, relating to the question of Catholic emancipation, is retained as shewing Coleridge's profound view of that question, at a time when concession itself was a matter of fierce dispute. Mrs. Gillman, who was prevented from coming with us by sudden indisposition, had promised to explain my apparent neglect, with regard to the Queen's *See CANTERBURY MAGAZINE for September, 1834, for the letters of Coles ridge, to which these are a sequel. will remain neutral. character-in short, the missing sheets, which she had herself seen, were sought for, in all possible, and impossible, holes and corners, in vain ; and all, we could discover was, that Henry had been seen burning some paper, or rather, with the tinder, which, on the servant's entering, he had dropt and run off-and which the maid had not told his mother of, because she knew that it was one of the very few whipping matters in the penal, or rather natal law of this family. If it would be of the least service, and you will send me the fragments, I will compleat them, for I have a distinct remembrance of all I wrote at that time, though I do not know which are the parts that are missing. I see that Dr. Stoddart espouses the Catholic cause-so, I suppose, that the try and try -keep my mind religiously open to every argument from the partizans of the (so-miscalled) Catholic Emancipation, but still my convictions remain the same. I believe, in my conscience, that the separation of Ireland from this country, would be a less ulimate evil. I hope I need not tell you, that no theological point enters into my grounds of reasoning. Though they had adored spiders instead of wafers, and prayed to beetles and onions, I should not regard it as an objection. No! I use no argument which our Houses of Parliament would not have acted upon, before Luther was born. I have conversed with the best and wisest advocates of the measure-with more than one Minister of State-but never could get a fair answer to my objections, or an adequate counterbalance. With all this, I can readily believe, that were I the conductor of the I might see justifying reasons for remaining neutral. The "fragments" I did not return to be completed, for which omission I should certainly take shame to myself, were I not consoled by knowing, that had I returned them, I should have seen them no more, either complete or incomplete. Their unfinished state may make us regret that they are unfinished but if the old saying be true, "that half a loaf is better than none," I think it will follow, that we are better off with only a fragment, from the pen of Coleridge, than to miss it altogether. With this apology for giving the fragment, I thall now lay it before the reader. The characteristics of the age are so numerous, that they would cease to answer their implied purpose, that of designating its character, but that they may be all traced to one and the same root: a restless, overweening conceit of rights, independent of duties. Judging by the comparative frequency with which the words are employed, instead of being interdependent correlatives, we should take them as symptoms of two contrary states of mind: the less regard an individual pays to his duties, the more parade he is sure to make about his personal and political rights. He is none of your sneaking church goers ! None of your fireside amiables! He won't be pinned to a wife's (at least to his own wife's) apron! But when did he ever miss a meeting in Palace yard, or Spa Fields? Never unless when the rights of man were outraged in his own person, by the sheriff's officer, or while he was sympathizing with some fair friend in a mishap, too incident to the free exercise of the rights of woman! This same predilection for rights, however, so far from blinding us to the nonperformance of duties in others, of all at least who are above us, renders us remarkably quick-sighted to them, and not seldom even creative, the inrush of the inventive faculty filling up any aching void in the perceptive, at the same time that the memory becomes so surprisingly retentive, that an error, or misconduct, shall appear as fresh and lively after an interval of twenty or thirty— * * * -freedom to forget, that he was Poet Laureate, and of course, therefore, a base apostate, hired by governmeut to slander the advocates of Reform, under the character of CATALINE, whose pretended conspiracy, manufactured out of Cicero's green bag, was made the pretext for suspending the Habeas Corpus Act, at Rome. This old placeman and pensioner, BEN JONSON by name, has (I say) acknowleged this, as a right of custom, (however much he would dissuade us from exercising the same,) in the following verses: In our blind censures of the state, We still do wander : And make the careful magistrate, |