enemies? Had they not stained the house of God with wholesale massacre?
What altar and what hearthstone had they not profaned? What fatigue,
what danger, what crime, had ever checked them for a moment? And for all
this obedience, labor, and bloodshed, were they not even to be paid such
wages as the commonest clown, who only tore the earth at home, received?
Did Philip believe that a few thousand Spaniards were to execute his
sentence of death against three millions of Netherlanders, and be
cheated of their pay at last?

It was in vain that arguments and expostulations were addressed to
soldiers who were suffering from want, and maddened by injustice. They
determined to take their cause into their own hand, as they had often
done before. By the 15th of July, the mutiny was general on the isle of
Schouwen. Promises were freely offered, both of pay and pardon; appeals
were made to their old sense of honor and loyalty; but they had had
enough of promises, of honor, and of work. What they wanted now were
shoes and jerkins, bread and meat, and money. Money they would have, and
that at once. The King of Spain was their debtor. The Netherlands
belonged to the King of Spain. They would therefore levy on the
Netherlands for payment of their debt. Certainly this was a logical
deduction. They knew by experience that this process had heretofore
excited more indignation in the minds of the Netherland people than in
that of their master. Moreover, at this juncture, they cared little
for their sovereign's displeasure, and not at all for that of the
Netherlanders. By the middle of July, then, the mutineers, now entirely
beyond control, held their officers imprisoned within their quarters at
Zierickzee. They even surrounded the house of Mondtagon, who had so
often led them to victory, calling upon him with threats and taunts to
furnish them with money. The veteran, roused to fury by their
insubordination and their taunts, sprang from his house into the midst of