Curione’s Spiritual Wants.
A work was then going on in his soul. The truths he had read in his Bible grew clearer and sank deeper into his mind; his spirit thrilled with joy when he found his faith confirmed by that of these great doctors, and his heart was filled with love for Luther and Melancthon. ‘When I was still young,’ he said to the latter afterwards, ‘when first I read your writings, I felt such love for you that it seemed hardly capable of increase.’[[809]]
Curione was not satisfied with the writings merely of these men of God: his admiration for them was such that he longed to hear them: an ardent desire to start immediately for Germany was kindled in his heart.[[810]] He talked about it with his friends, especially with Giovanni and Francesco Guarino, whom the Gospel had also touched, and who declared their readiness to depart with him.
The three young Italians, enthusiastic admirers of Luther and Melancthon, quitted Turin and started for Wittemberg. They turned their steps towards the valley of Aosta, intending to cross the St. Bernard,[[811]] where for more than five centuries a house of the Augustine order had existed for the reception of the travellers who made use of that then very frequented pass. They conversed about their journey, their feelings, and their hopes; and not content with this, they spoke of the truth with simple-hearted earnestness to the people they met with on the road or at the inns. In the ardor of their youthful zeal, they even allowed themselves to enter into imprudent discussions upon the Romish doctrines.[[812]] They were ‘bursting to speak’—they could not wait until they had crossed the Alps: the spirit with which they were filled carried them away. They had been cautioned, and had resolved to be circumspect; but ‘however deep the hiding-places in the hearts of men,’ said a reformer, ‘their tongues betray their hidden affections.’[[813]] One of those with whom these Piedmontese youths had debated went and denounced them to Boniface, Cardinal-bishop of Ivrea, and pointed out the road they were to take. The prelate gave the necessary orders, and just as the three students were entering the valley of Aosta,[[814]] the cardinal’s satellites, who were waiting for them, laid hold of them and carried them to prison.
What a disappointment! At the very time they were anticipating the delights of an unrestrained intercourse with Melancthon and Luther, they found themselves in chains and solitary imprisonment. Curione possessed friends in that district who belonged to the higher nobility; and contriving to inform them of his fate, they exerted themselves in his behalf. The cardinal having sent for him, soon discovered that his prisoner was not an ordinary man. Struck with the extent of his knowledge and the elegance of his mind, he resolved to do all he could to attach him to the Roman Church. He loaded him with attentions, promised to bear the necessary expenses for the continuation of his studies, and with that intent placed him in the priory of St. Benignus. It is probable that Cornelio and Guarino were soon released: although less celebrated than their fellow-traveller, they afterwards became distinguished by their evangelical zeal.
Relics And The Bible.
Although shut up in a monastery, Curione’s soul burnt with zeal for the Word of God. He regretted that Germany on which he had so much reckoned, and unable to increase his light at the altar of Wittemberg, he wished at least to make use of what he had for the benefit of the monks commissioned to convert him. He was grieved at the superstitious practices of their worship, and would have desired to enfranchise those about him. A shrine, put in a prominent place on the altar, enclosed a skull and other bones reported to be those of St. Agapetus and St. Tibur the martyr, and which during certain solemnities were presented to the adoration of the people. Why set dry bones in the place which should be occupied by the living Word of God? Are not their writings the only authentic remains of the apostles and prophets? Curione refused to pay the slightest honor to these relics, and in his private conversation he went so far as to speak to some of the monks against such idolatrous worship, instructing them in the true faith.[[815]] He resolved to do something more. In the convent library he had found a Bible, to which no one paid any attention; he had, moreover, noticed the place where the monks kept the key of the shrine they held so dear.[[816]] One day—probably in 1530—taking advantage of a favorable opportunity when the monks were occupied elsewhere,[[817]] he went into the library, took down the holy Word of which David said it was more to be desired than gold, carried it into the church, opened the mysterious coffer, removed the relics, put the Bible in their place, and laid this inscription upon it: ‘This is the ark of the covenant, wherein a man can inquire of the true oracles of God, and in which are contained the true relics of the saints.’ Curione, with emotion and joy, closed the shrine and left the church without being observed. The act, rash as it was, had a deep and evangelical meaning: it expressed the greatest principles of the Reformation. Some time after, at one of the festivals when the relics were to be presented to the adoration of the worshippers, the monks opened the shrine. Their surprise, emotion, and rage were boundless, and they at once accused their young companion of sacrilege. Being on the watch, he made his escape, and, quitting Piedmont, took refuge at Milan.
In that city Curione zealously devoted himself to lecturing; but, being at the same time disgusted with the unmeaning practices of the monks, he gave himself with his whole heart to works of Christian charity. As famine and pestilence were wasting the country, he soon after occupied himself wholly in succoring the poor and the sick; he solicited the donations of the nobility, prevailed on the priests to sell for the relief of the wretched the precious objects which adorned their churches, consoled the dying, and even buried the dead.[[818]] In the convent, he had appeared to be struggling for faith only; in the midst of the pestilence, he seemed to be living for works only. He remembered that Jesus had come to serve, and following his Master’s example, he was eager to console every misery. ‘Christ having become the living root of his soul, had made it a fruitful tree.’ As soon as the scourge abated, every one was eager to testify a proper gratitude to Celio, and the Isacios, one of the best families in the province, gave him the hand of one of their daughters, Margarita Bianca, a young woman of great beauty, who became the faithful and brave companion of his life.[[819]]
Papal Preachers.
Some time after this, Curione, believing that he had nothing more to fear, and desiring to receive his patrimony, to revisit his native country, and to devote his strength and faith to her service, returned to Piedmont. His hopes were disappointed. Cruel family vexations and clerical persecutions assailed a life that was never free from agitation. He had lost all but one sister, whose husband, learning that he intended claiming his inheritance, determined to ruin him. A Dominican monk was making a great noise by his sermons in a neighboring city.[[820]] Celio took a book from his library, and went with some friends to hear him. He expected that the monk, according to the custom of his class, would draw a frightful picture of the reformers. Curione knew that the essence of the preaching of the evangelical ministry was Christ, justification by faith in his atoning work, the new life which He imparts, and the new commandments which He gives. According to him, the task of the servant of God, now that all things were made new, was to exalt, not the Church, but the Saviour; and to make known all the preciousness of Christ rather than to stun his hearers by furious declamations against their adversaries. Such were not the opinions entertained at that time—we will not say by the great doctors of the Romish Church, but by the vulgar preachers of the papacy. Laying down as a fundamental principle that there was no salvation out of the Church, they naturally believed themselves called to urge the necessity of union—not with Christ, but—with Rome; to extol the beauties of its hierarchy, its worship, and its devout institutions. Instead of feeding the sheep, by giving them the spiritual nourishment of faith, they thought only of pronouncing declamatory eulogies of the fold and drawing horrible pictures of the devouring wolves that were prowling about it. If there had been no protestants to combat, no Luther or Calvin to calumniate, many popish preachers would have found the sermon a superfluous part of the service, as had been the case in the Middle Ages.