The good monk, whom Curione and his friends had gone to hear, preached according to the oratorical rules of vulgar preachers. ‘Do you know,’ he exclaimed, ‘why Luther pleases the Germans?... Because, under the name of Christian liberty, he permits them to indulge in all kinds of excess.[[821]] He teaches, moreover, that Christ is not God, and that He was not born of a virgin.’ And continuing this monkish philippic with great vehemence, he inflamed the animosity of his hearers.
When the sermon was over, Curione asked the prelate who was present for permission to say a few words. Having obtained it, and the congregation being silent and expectant, he said: ‘Reverend father, you have brought serious charges against Luther: can you tell me the book or the place in which he teaches the things with which you reproach him?’ The monk replied that he could not do so then, but if Curione would accompany him to Turin, he would show him the passages. The young man rejoined with indignation: ‘Then I will tell you at once the page and book where the Wittemberg doctor has said the very contrary.’ And opening Luther’s Commentary on the Galatians, he read aloud several passages which completely demonstrated the falseness of the monk’s calumnies. The persons of rank present at the service were disgusted; the people went still further; some violent men, exasperated by the Dominican’s having told them such impudent lies, rushed upon him and struck him. The more reasonable had some trouble to rescue him and send him home safe and sound.[[822]]
Curione Again Imprisoned.
This scene made a great noise. The bishop and the inquisitors looked upon it as a revolt against the papacy. Curione was a firebrand flung by Satan into the midst of the Church, and they felt that if they did not quench it instantly, the impetuous wind which, crossing the Alps, was beginning to blow in the peninsula, would scatter the sparks far and wide, and spread the conflagration everywhere. The valiant evangelist was seized, taken to Turin, thrown into prison, and in a moment, as soon as the news circulated, all his old enemies set to work. His covetous brother, and even his sister, as it would appear, made common cause with the priests to destroy him.[[823]] Fanaticism and avarice joined together; one party wished to deprive him of his property only, but the others wanted his life. It was not the first time Curione had been in prison for speaking according to the truth: he did not lose courage, he preserved all the serenity of his mind, and remained master of himself. The ecclesiastic charged with the examination overwhelmed him with questions.[[824]] He was reminded of the relics taken away from the monastery of St. Benignus, the journey he had wished to take to Germany, and the conversations he had held on the road, and was threatened with the stake.[[825]]
The bishop, knowing that Curione had protectors among the first people in the city, started for Rome, in order to obtain from the pope in person his condemnation to death. Before leaving, he transferred the prisoner to his coadjutor David, brother of the influential cardinal Cibo. David, wishing to make sure of his man, and to prevent its being known where he was detained, removed him by night from the prison in which he had been placed, took him to one of those mansions, not very unlike castles, that are often to be found in Italy, and locked him up in a room enclosed by very thick walls.[[826]] His officers attached heavy chains to poor Celio’s feet, riveted them roughly, and fastened them into the wall; and finally, two sentries were placed inside the door of the house. When that was done, David felt at ease, sure of being able to produce his prisoner when the condemnation arrived from Rome. There was no hope left the wretched man of being saved. Curione felt that his death could not be far off; but though in great distress he still remained full of courage.
The different operations by which David had secured his prisoner had been carried on during the night; when the day came, Curione looked round him: the place seemed to bring to his memory certain half-effaced recollections. He began to examine everything about him more carefully, and by degrees remembered that once upon a time, when a boy, he had been in that house, in that very room—it had probably been the house of some friend. He called to remembrance exactly the arrangement of the building, the galleries, the staircase, the door, and the windows.[[827]] But ere long he was recalled from these thoughts by a feeling of pain: his jailers had riveted the fetters so tightly that his feet began to swell and the anguish became intolerable. When his keeper came as usual to bring him food, Curione spoke to him of his pain, and begged him to leave one of his feet at liberty, adding that, when that was healed, the jailer could chain it up again and set the other free. The man consented, and some days passed in this way, during which the prisoner experienced by turns severe pain and occasional relief.
This circumstance did not prevent him from making the most serious reflections. He should never see his wife, his children, or his friends again; he could no longer take part in that great work of revival which God was then carrying on in the Church. He knew what sentence would be delivered at Rome. When St. John saw the woman seated on the seven hills, he exclaimed: ‘Babylon! ... drunken with the blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus.’ Death awaited Curione on the bishop’s return: of that he had not a doubt. But was it not lawful to defend one’s life against the violence of murderers? An idea suddenly crossed his inventive mind; the hope of escaping, of seeing his dear ones again, of again serving the cause of the Gospel, flashed upon him. He reflected and planned; the expedient which occurred to his mind was singular: possibly it might not succeed, but it might also be the means of saving him from the hands of his persecutors. When Peter was in prison the angel of the Lord opened the door and led him out. Celio did not expect a miracle; but he thought it was man’s duty to do all in his power to thwart the counsels of the ungodly. He was not, however, very sanguine of success. God holds the lives of his children in his hand; the Lord will restore him to liberty or send him to the scaffold, as He shall judge best.
Curione’s Escape.
Curione delayed no longer: he proceeded at once to carry out the curious and yet simple expedient which had occurred to his lively imagination. He took the boot off his free leg and stuffed it with rags;[[828]] he then broke off the leg of a stool that was within his reach, fastened the sham foot to it, and contrived a wooden leg which he fixed to his knee, in such a way that he could move it as if it were a real leg. His Spanish robe, reaching down to his heels, covered everything, and made the matter easier. Presently he heard the footsteps of his jailers: luckily, everything was ready. They entered, did what they were accustomed to do every day, loosed the chained foot, and then, without examining too closely—for they had no suspicions—they put the fetters on the sham leg, and went away.
Celio was free; he rose, he walked; surprised at a deliverance so little expected, he was almost beside himself ... he was rescued from death. But all was not over; he had still to get out of that strong mansion, where so close a watch was kept over him. He waited until night, and when darkness brooded over the city and his keepers were sunk in sleep, he approached the door of the chamber. The jailers, knowing that the prisoner was chained to the wall, and that sentinels were posted at the outer gate, had only pushed it to without locking it. Curione opened it, and moved along with slow and cautious steps, avoiding the slightest noise for fear of giving the alarm. Although it was quite dark, he easily found his way by the help of his memory: he groped his course along the galleries, descended the stairs; but on reaching the door of the house, he found it closely shut. What was to be done now? The sbirri were asleep, but he dared not make any noise lest he should wake them. Recollecting that there was a window placed rather high on one side of the door, he contrived to reach it, leapt into the court-yard, scaled the outer wall, fell into the street, and began to seek for a hiding-place as fast as his wounded feet would permit him.[[829]] When the morning came, there was great surprise and agitation in the house. The fidelity of the jailers was not suspected: and as no one could explain the prisoner’s flight, his enemies circulated the report that he had had recourse to magic to save himself from death.