A very paltry old woman excited the image-breaking of Antwerp.

She had for years been accustomed to sit before the door of the cathedral with wax-tapers and wafers, earning scanty subsistence from the profits of her meagre trade, and by the small coins which she sometimes received in charity.
Some of the rabble began to chaffer with this ancient hucksteress.

They scoffed at her consecrated wares; they bandied with her ribald jests, of which her public position had furnished her with a supply; they assured her that the hour had come when her idolatrous traffic was to be forever terminated, when she and her patroness, Mary, were to be given over to destruction together.

The old woman, enraged, answered threat with threat, and gibe with gibe.

Passing from words to deeds, she began to catch from the ground every offensive missile or weapon which she could find, and to lay about her in all directions.