musketeers, all perfectly appointed, entering Antwerp at once.  From the Kipdorp gate two main arteries—­the streets called the Kipdorp and the Meer—­led quite through the heart of the city, towards the townhouse and the river beyond.  Along these great thoroughfares the French soldiers advanced at a rapid pace; the cavalry clattering furiously in the van, shouting “Ville gaignee, ville gaignee! vive la messe, vive la messe! tue, tue, tue!”

The burghers coming to door and window to look for the cause of all this disturbance, were saluted with volleys of musketry.  They were for a moment astonished, but not appalled, for at first they believed it to be merely an accidental tumult.  Observing, however, that the soldiers, meeting with but little effective resistance, were dispersing into dwellings and warehouses, particularly into the shops of the goldsmiths and lapidaries, the citizens remembered the dark suspicions which had been so rife, and many recalled to mind that distinguished French officers had during, the last few days been carefully examining the treasures of the jewellers, under pretext of purchasing, but, as it now appeared, with intent to rob intelligently.

The burghers, taking this rapid view of their position, flew instantly to arms.  Chains and barricades were stretched across the streets; the trumpets sounded through the city; the municipal guards swarmed to the rescue.  An effective rally was made, as usual, at the Bourse, whither a large detachment of the invaders had forced their way.  Inhabitants of all classes and conditions, noble and simple, Catholic and Protestant, gave each other the hand, and swore to die at each other’s side in defence of the city against the treacherous strangers.  The gathering was rapid and enthusiastic.  Gentlemen came with lance and cuirass, burghers with musket and bandoleer, artisans with axe, mallet, and other implements of their trade.  A bold baker, standing by his oven-stark naked, according to the custom of bakers at that day—­rushed to the street as the sound of the tumult reached his ear.  With his heavy bread shovel, which he still held in his hand, he dealt a French cavalry, officer, just riding and screaming by, such a hearty blow that he fell dead from his horse.  The baker seized the officer’s sword, sprang all unattired as he was, upon his steed, and careered furiously through the streets, encouraging his countrymen everywhere to the attack, and dealing dismay through the ranks of the enemy.  His services in that eventful hour were so signal that he was publicly thanked afterwards by the magistrates for his services, and rewarded with a pension of three hundred florins for life.