Three years' pay were due to the Spanish troops, and it was not
surprising that upon this occasion one of those periodic rebellions
should break forth, by which the royal cause was frequently so much
weakened, and the royal governors so intolerably perplexed. These
mutinies were of almost regular occurrence, and attended by as regular a
series of phenomena. The Spanish troops, living so far from their own
country, but surrounded by their women, and constantly increasing swarms
of children, constituted a locomotive city of considerable population,
permanently established on a foreign soil. It was a city walled in by
bayonets, and still further isolated from the people around by the
impassable moat of mutual hatred. It was a city obeying the articles of
war, governed by despotic authority, and yet occasionally revealing, in
full force, the irrepressible democratic element. At periods which could
almost be calculated, the military populace were wont to rise upon the
privileged classes, to deprive them of office and liberty, and to set up
in their place commanders of their own election. A governor-in-chief, a
sergeant-major, a board of councillors and various other functionaries,
were chosen by acclamation and universal suffrage. The Eletto, or chief
officer thus appointed, was clothed with supreme power, but forbidden to
exercise it. He was surrounded by councillors, who watched his every
motion, read all his correspondence, and assisted at all his conferences,
while the councillors were themselves narrowly watched by the commonalty.
These movements were, however, in general, marked by the most exemplary
order. Anarchy became a system of government; rebellion enacted and
enforced the strictest rules of discipline; theft, drunkenness, violence
to women, were severely punished. As soon as the mutiny broke forth, the
first object was to take possession of the nearest city, where the Eletto
was usually established in the town-house, and the soldiery quartered
upon the citizens. Nothing in the shape of food or lodging was too good
for these marauders. Men who had lived for years on camp rations--coarse
knaves who had held the plough till compelled to handle the musket, now
slept in fine linen, and demanded from the trembling burghers the
daintiest viands. They ate the land bare, like a swarm of locusts.
"Chickens and partridges," says the thrifty chronicler of Antwerp,
"capons and pheasants, hares and rabbits, two kinds of wines;