brother answered; “it is the Bible.” It was probably the one used in public worship. “S’blood! how is that? This book has only been printed a year, and they say the Bible is more than fifteen hundred years old.” “My brother is mistaken,” quietly observed the cardinal, as he turned away to hide a smile of contempt at the duke’s ignorance.[278] The news of the “blood-bath of Vassy” spread like wild-fire through France, everywhere creating the deepest agitation. Such an outrage was not only an infringement of the Edict of January, the ink of which was scarcely dry, but a direct defiance of it; the act (as it were) of a man who, in pursuance of his own ends, had resolved to trample upon all law.[279] If the offense were not punished, no one would be safe hereafter; no law would be binding. As soon as the tidings of the massacre reached Paris, Marshal Montmorency, the governor, who was not unfriendly to the Huguenots, advised the ministers to adjourn their preachings for a few days, lest there should be a riot; but with characteristic obstinacy they refused, as it would be “acknowledging they were in the wrong.” They farther asked for a guard to protect them in their ministrations. Meanwhile Beza went to Monceaux, and appealed personally to the queen-regent. The apostate Anthony of Navarre attempted to defend the Duke, and, throwing the blame on the Huguenots, said that Beza ought to be hanged.[280] Beza replied that the Church of Christ was more apt to receive blows than to inflict them, adding, in words that have since passed into a proverb, “Remember, Sire, it is an anvil on which many a hammer has been broken.” The queen-mother made a gracious answer, and promised that the edict should be enforced. She bade Navarre watch over the safety of the king, and summoned Guise to court, “unattended by any men-at-arms.” Marshal St. André was ordered to repair to his government at Lyons, but refused to go. The excitement was so great in Paris that each party took up arms, declaring they did so in self-defense; and had there been a reckless leader on either side, the streets would have run with blood shed in civil strife. The hotels of Montmorency and of Guise were turned into fortresses, and strongly garrisoned by their respective partisans. The constable, as representative of the oldest barony of France, was urged by his wife to act up to his motto, and defend the faith; and he would possibly have been induced to adopt an extreme course but for his son Marshal Montmorency, who advised moderation, and urged that it would be wiser to conciliate the queen-mother than attempt to coerce her.