to deposit the image in the chapel, instead of the conspicuous station
usually assigned to it in the cathedral, to receive there during the
coming week the adoration of the faithful.

On the following day, unluckily, the prince was recalled to Brussels. In
the evening some boys, who had found their way into the church, called
out to the Virgin, demanding "why little Mary had gone so early to her
nest, and whether she were afraid to show her face in public."[810] This
was followed by one of the party mounting into the pulpit, and there
mimicking the tones and gestures of the Catholic preacher. An honest
waterman who was present, a zealous son of the Church, scandalized by
this insult to his religion, sprang into the pulpit, and endeavored to
dislodge the usurper. The lad resisted. His comrades came to his rescue;
and a struggle ensued, which ended in both the parties being expelled
from the building by the officers.[811] This scandalous proceeding, it
may be thought, should have put the magistrates of the city on their
guard, and warned them to take some measures of defence for the
cathedral. But the admonition was not heeded.

On the following day a considerable number of the reformed party entered
the building, and were allowed to continue there after vespers, when the
rest of the congregation had withdrawn. Left in possession, their first
act was to break forth into one of the Psalms of David. The sound of
their own voices seemed to rouse them to fury. Before the chant had died
away, they rushed forward as by a common impulse, broke open the doors
of the chapel, and dragged forth the image of the Virgin. Some called on
her to cry, "_Vivent les Gueux!_" while others tore off her embroidered
robes, and rolled the dumb idol in the dust, amidst the shouts of the
spectators.

This was the signal for havoc. The rioters dispersed in all directions
on the work of destruction. Nothing escaped their rage. High above the
great altar was an image of the Saviour, curiously carved in wood, and
placed between the effigies of the two thieves crucified with him. The
mob contrived to get a rope round the neck of the statue of Christ, and
dragged it to the ground. They then fell upon it with hatchets and
hammers, and it was soon broken into a hundred fragments. The two
thieves, it was remarked, were spared, as if to preside over the work of
rapine below.

Their fury now turned against the other statues, which were quickly
overthro