their former cynicism, that glory could be put neither into pocket nor
stomach. They had no use for it; they had more than enough of it. Give
them money, or give them a City, these were their last terms.

Sorrowfully and bodingly Mansfeld withdrew to consult again with the
State Council. The mutineers then made a demonstration upon Mechlin,
but that city having fortunately strengthened its garrison, was allowed
to escape. They then hovered for a time outside the walls of Brussels.
At Grimsberg, where they paused for a short period, they held a parley
with Captain Montesdocca, whom they received with fair words and specious
pretences. He returned to Brussels with the favourable tidings, and the
mutineers swarmed off to Assche. Thither Montesdoeca was again
despatched, with the expectation that he would be able to bring them to
terms, but they drove him off with jeers and threats, finding that he
brought neither money nor the mortgage of a populous city. The next day,
after a feint or two in a different direction, they made a sudden swoop
upon Alost, in Flanders. Here they had at last made their choice,
and the town was carried by storm. All the inhabitants who opposed
them were butchered, and the mutiny, at last established in a capital,
was able to treat with the State Council upon equal terms. They were
now between two and three thousand strong, disciplined, veteran troops,
posted in a strong and wealthy city. One hundred parishes belonged to
the jurisdiction of Alost, all of which were immediately laid under
contribution.

The excitement was now intense in Brussels. Anxiety and alarm had given
place to rage, and the whole population rose in arms to defend the
capital, which was felt to be in imminent danger. This spontaneous
courage of the burghers prevented the catastrophe, which was reserved for
a sister city. Meantime, the indignation and horror excited by the