accomplished, the Catholics marched towards Antwerp, drums beating,
colors flying. The five hundred Calvinists, not liking their appearance,
and being in reality outnumbered, retreated within; the gates as hastily
as they had just issued from them. De Beauvoir advanced close to the city
moat, on the margin of which he planted the banners of the unfortunate
Tholouse, and sounded a trumpet of defiance. Finding that the citizens
had apparently no stomach for the fight, he removed his trophies, and
took his departure.

On the other hand, the tumult within the walls had again increased. The
Calvinists had been collecting in great numbers upon the Mere. This was a
large and splendid thoroughfare, rather an oblong market-place than a
street, filled with stately buildings, and communicating by various cross
streets with the Exchange and with many other public edifices. By an
early hour in the afternoon twelve or fifteen thousand Calvinists, all
armed and fighting men, had assembled upon the place. They had barricaded
the whole precinct with pavements and upturned wagons. They had already
broken into the arsenal and obtained many field-pieces, which were
planted at the entrance of every street and by-way. They had stormed the
city jail and liberated the prisoners, all of whom, grateful and
ferocious, came to swell the numbers who defended the stronghold on the
Mere. A tremendous mischief was afoot. Threats of pillaging the churches
and the houses of the Catholics, of sacking the whole opulent city, were
distinctly heard among this powerful mob, excited by religious
enthusiasm, but containing within one great heterogeneous mass the
elements of every crime which humanity can commit. The alarm throughout
the city was indescribable. The cries of women and children, as they
remained in trembling expectation of what the next hour might bring
forth, were, said one who heard them, "enough to soften the hardest
hearts."