At some distance from this spot, but near De la Forge's, at the entrance of the Rue St. Denis, at the corner of the boulevard, was a large draper's shop, the Black Horse, belonging to John du Bourg. This tradesman was a man of independent character, who liked to see, to understand, and to judge for himself: he had never frequented the schools or even had much conversation with the evangelicals, but for all that, says the chronicle, he had not been denied the wisdom from heaven. By means of the Holy Scriptures, which he read constantly, and in which he humbly sought the truth, he had received from God the knowledge of those 'glad tidings which (as it was said) the wise cannot obtain by their own wisdom.' Forthwith he had begun to spread it around him with an unwearying activity, which astonished his neighbours. 'That ardour, which makes a great show at the beginning,' said some of his relatives, 'will soon end in smoke, like a fire of tow as the proverb says.' They were mistaken; the Word had sunk into his heart, and taken such deep root there, that it could not be plucked out. The priests had intrigued, kinsfolk had clamoured, and customers had deserted him, but 'neither money nor kindred could ever turn him aside from the truth.'[149]
While his old friends were growing distant, new ones were drawing near him. A receiver of Nantes, Peter Valeton by name, was often seen entering his shop. Like Du Bourg, he was 'a man of sense and credit,' but while the tradesman had been instructed in solitude by the Holy Ghost, the receiver had come to a knowledge of the Gospel 'by means of some good people with whom he associated,'[150] and then the study of the New Testament had confirmed his faith. He did not stop here. Being in easy circumstances, and fond of books, he bought all the writings of the reformers he could procure. If there was one in any bookseller's back shop, he would catch it up, pay for it instantly, hide it under his cloak, for fear the volume should be seen, and hurry home with it. On reaching his room, he would place it at the bottom of a large chest or trunk, the key of which he always carried with him. Then as soon as he had a spare moment, he would close his door, reopen the chest, take out the precious book, and read it eagerly. He listened if any person was coming, for though he was a faithful soul, he was still weak in the faith, and was afraid of the stake.
All these pious men joyfully welcomed those who showed any love for the Gospel. There was sometimes present at their meetings a Picard gentleman, by name John le Comte, belonging to the household of the Amirale de Bonnivet, widow of the celebrated favourite of Francis I. He was born at Etaples in 1500, had attached himself to Lefèvre, his fellow-townsman, followed him into Briçonnet's service, and only left him to enter Madame de Bonnivet's family, as tutor to her three sons. Constantly attending the meetings of the little Church, he often spoke at them, and every one appreciated his knowledge of Scripture (he could read them in Hebrew), his sound theology, and his talent in expounding the truth. We shall meet with him again in Switzerland.
=GIULIO CAMILLO.=
Another rather singular person attracted the attention of the assembly by his dark complexion, his gloomy look, and mysterious air. He was a celebrated Italian, Giulio Camillo of Forli (in the States of the Church), philosopher, orator, poet, astrologer, philologist,and mythologist, of great skill in the cabalistic science,[151] who pretended to hold intercourse with the elementary beings, and had laboured forty years in constructing a machine in the form of a theatre, full of little niches, in which he lodged all our faculties and many other things besides, and by means of which he pretended to teach all the sciences. Francis I. having invited him to Paris, Camillo exhibited to him, and explained, his wonderful machine, at which the king was delighted, and gave him 500 ducats. Although taciturn and dreamy, he courted the society of pious men. Paleario speaks of him in his letters,[152] and he became intimate in Paris with Sturm, who willingly received into his house the learned of all countries. The latter was charmed to see a scholar, invited from Italy by the king, and of whom all the world was talking, inclining towards the Gospel; and one day, writing to Bucer, he said: 'Camillo professes not only profound science but admirable piety also.... God often does something by means of men of this sort; who, when their will is equal to their means, become great patterns.'[153] Camillo knocked at the door and came in while Sturm was writing. Sturm showed him the letter, and the Italian wrote at the foot: 'Would to God that my mind were in my hands, or that it could flow from my pen!... If you could see it you would certainly recognise it as your own.'[154] It would appear that Camillo was deceived. He was a man of original mind, desirous of learning everything new, including the Reformation; but there was some quackery in him. If his famous machine did nothing for the progress of science, it advanced his fortunes, which was a compensation in his eyes. Calvin was less pleased with him than Sturm; the eagle eye of the reformer was not deceived. The Italian's gloomy air seemed to hide some unbelief or heresy. 'If spiritual joy reign not in our hearts,' he said, 'the kingdom of God is not in us.'[155]
Many other well-known persons visited the friends of the Gospel in Paris; among them were Des Fosset, afterwards lieutenant-general of Berry, Jacques Canaye, subsequently a famous advocate before the parliament, besides other lawyers, noblemen, royal servants, tradesmen, and professors. Persecution made them known, and we shall have to name many of them among the exiles and martyrs.[156]
Besides these adult laymen, a number of scholars or students was observed at the evangelical meetings. Among them was a boy of Melun, Jacques Amyot by name, 'of very low origin,' says Beza, picked up in the streets of Paris by a lady, who, wishing to turn him to account, made him attend her sons to college and carry their books. Amyot, who was to be one of the most celebrated writers of the age, soon showed a wonderful aptitude for Greek literature; he had even learnt to know something of the Gospel. He was to change hereafter, to take orders, to forget what he had learnt, and even to become 'a very wretched persecutor;'[157] but at this time he was considered to be a friend of the new doctrine.
It was the common people, however, that were most numerous at these conventicles. One of them, Henry Poille, a poor bricklayer from a village near Meaux, told a friend one day 'that he had come to a knowledge of the truth in the school of Meaux, thanks to Bishop Briçonnet. Alas!' he added, 'the bishop has been overcome since then by the enemies of the cross.'
Even the most necessitous persons were active in good works. A poor woman named Catelle had turned school-mistress out of love for children. 'It would be too cruel a thing,' she said, 'to exclude those of tender age from God's grace!'