The young man, soured and disappointed, drew a sad picture of Strasburg. 'There was not a single person in the whole city from whom I could obtain a penny,' he said. 'My enemy left not a stone unturned; scattering the sparks of his wrath on every side, he kindled a great fire.... My sojourn there was a real tragedy, which had the ruin of an innocent man for its catastrophe.' Calvin questioned him on baptism, and the severe examination was entirely to the advantage of the young refugee. 'Really,' said the commentator on _Clemency_, 'I have never met with any one who professed the truth on this point with so much frankness.' Calvin did not lose a moment, but sat down (4th of September) to write to Bucer, whom he styled the _bishop_ of Strasburg. 'Alas!' he said, 'how much stronger calumny is than truth! They have ruined this man's reputation, perhaps without intention, but certainly without reason. If my prayers, if my tears have any value in your eyes, dear Master Bucer, have pity on the wretchedness of this unfortunate man![231] You are the protector of the poor, the help of the orphan; do not suffer this unhappy man to be reduced to the last extremity.' Shortly after writing this touching appeal, Calvin returned to Paris. As for the young man, we know not what became of him. He was not, however, the only one who first attacked and then called for pity. The literary movement of the capital manifested itself more and more every day in a biblical direction. Guidacerio of Venice, devoting himself to scriptural studies, published a commentary on the _Song of Solomon_, and an explanation of the _Sermon on the Mount_,[232] to the great annoyance of the doctors of the Sorbonne, who were angry at seeing laymen break through their monopoly of interpreting Scripture. Priests in their sermons, students in their essays, put forward propositions contrary to the Romish doctrine; and Beda, who was beside himself, filled Paris with his furious declamations. He soon met with a cutting reply. Some young friends of learning gave a public representation of a burlesque comedy entitled: 'The university of Paris is founded on a monster.'[233] Beda could not contain himself: 'They mean me,' he exclaimed, and called together the Faculties. They laid the matter before the inquisitors of the faith, who had the good sense to let it drop.[234] [Sidenote: THE MERCHANT DE LA FORGE.]