to lead them in their foray against Tournay. Beneath the walls of that
city he was slain, and buried under its cathedral. And now as if his
offence had not been sufficiently atoned for by the loss of his ancestral
honors, his captivity, and his death, the earth, after the lapse of
nearly a century, had cast him forth from her bosom. There, once more
beneath the sunlight, amid a ribald crew of a later generation which had
still preserved the memory of his sin, lay the body of the more than
parricide, whom "excellent spices" had thus preserved from corruption,
only to be the mark of scorn and demoniac laughter.

A large assemblage of rioters, growing in numbers as they advanced, swept
over the province of Tournay, after accomplishing the sack of the city
churches. Armed with halberds, hammers, and pitchforks, they carried on
the war, day after day, against the images. At the convent of
Marchiennes, considered by contemporaries the most beautiful abbey in all
the Netherlands, they halted to sing the ten commandments in Marot's
verse. Hardly had the vast chorus finished the precept against graven
images;

Taiiler ne to feras imaige
De quelque chose que ce soit,
Sy bonneur luy fail on hommaige,
Bon Dieu jalousie en recoit,

when the whole mob seemed seized with sudden madness. Without waiting to
complete the Psalm, they fastened upon the company of marble martyrs, as
if they had possessed sensibility to feel the blows inflicted. In an
hour they had laid the whole in ruins.

Having accomplished this deed, they swept on towards Anchin. Here,