The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1896-02-26
The alehta a Eagle: Oh zlornme ebrnarp

4
PalisSy, Il great French glass worker
Palsy was not 50 much a man as 4
| viii. Like most men of one idea, he
! bent himself and all his surroundings
TO one narrow point in bOundlesS uni
verse In one story of his life we
read of the impossible made real, and
wonder as we might If the Enchanted
Princess should walk into our drawing
room on an ordinary day.
Born about the year 1910 in Peri
CORD. France. worker in glass, cutting
it into bits. staining. and joining it to-
| gether with lead for church windows.
Palissy's ambition led him 10 study
drawing and color that he might him.
self design and execute in glass scenes
from the Bible and lives of saints, such
as he saw done by his superiors."
When old enough, be jOurneyed on
/ foot through France. absorbing facts
and ideas. allured and inspired by the
beauty that his eyes We're opened 10
see. Faience, which dates back TO the
fourteenth century, charmed and baf
fled him. 1t was a hidden art; but
Palsy was destined 10 rediscoyer and
in some respects surpass il.
After his marriage in 1899, his house
in the country filed mis- heart for a time
and dispelled his visions. until in an
evil hour he saw an enamelled Italian
cup. From this time his desire TO
abtain the secret became a sort OF pos
session. stopping his ears, binding his
eyes hardening his heart.
The world was 10 be richer by one
artist and poorer by one man.
what a glory for my name" he
cried; what Il benefit to France If |
could establish this industry here in
my own landr'
Then began the struggle. hand to
hand, foot TO foot with poverty. pain,
alienation of friends steep and diff
ficult." says Porphyry, as the path of
the gods
He had no furnace; he did not know
the composition of enamel or how 10
set about finding il. Desperately mix
ing ingredients, covering bits of earth
enWare with the substance OF his hopes.
begging oven room for the firing of his
treasures, jeered at for failure when
no glaze appeared on his pottery; build
ing his own furnaces, bringing the
bricks on his back, plastering them to-
gether with his worn hands; accused
Of counterfeiting money because his
lamp was always burning by night. re-
preached by his wife and starving
children. his credit gone. nothing left
him but the bottom article in PandOra's
box, he went about the streets hang
ing his head because he had no answer
TO make to his accuserS."
For six days and nights he crammed
his furnace with fuel, mad at the
thought of failure from lack of heat:
pulling down fences. hewing down the
trees his own hands had planted, break
ing up furniture, tearing up the planks
of his cottage fiOOr-and for what? To
discover a mystery, 10 read a riddle. To
fell apart from the intense heat; and
again with bleeding, bandaged hands
he pulled il down and built anew.
without Ony help or any repOse,"
working like a mailman, only To find
that the stones in the mortar had burst
with the awful heat, and spattered the
lovely vases he had moulded, So that
their beauty was gone. The very ''stars
in their courses fought against Siserar'
Fate like a lean wolf logged his heels
and disputed with him the last poor
bone. But he was stronger than fate,
and so won at last.
He began to make a living. though a
poor one. and his children had bread.
which must have been thinly buttered
at the best
Then the old rage came upon him,
and, throwing aside his pottering in
bits OF glass for church-windows, he
worked for years in the open air, pur-
suing the shadow of fame.
He passed whole nights at the mercy
Of rain and cold. without any aid. com
fort, or companionship. except that Of
owls screeching on one side and dogs
bowling on the other. Sometimes"
he says. winds and tempeStS blew
with such violence inside and outside
Of my ovens thatI was obliged 10 leave.
with a total loss of al they contained.
Several times when l had thus LETT
everything, without a dry rag on me
on account of the rain, / came in at
midnight or daybreak without any
light. staggering like drunken man,
all broken down at the thought Of my
toll: and then. all wet and dirty rs /
was. ! found in my bedroom the worst
affiiction Of all. which makes me won
der now why / was not consumed with
grief"
the story. The poetry of her life never
seems 10 have found expression. II
some wise friend could have told her
in the happy girlhood that geniuses are
not warranted % wear Well in the
diney alleys OF mortal life, Possibly
she failed in philosophy. and could noS
Sweetly welcome the wet and dirty hus-
band who woke the starving babes F.
from their hardly earned sleep. and
forced upon her the reality Of another .
DAY Ike all those that had gone before. /
We are tempted 10 wonder why she F.
too was not consumed By grief
But for Pal.ssy-h.s reward came. /