The enemies of John de Witt were not content with his fall from power.  A committee of six judges were empanelled to try his brother Cornelis for his alleged crime.  On August 17, to their eternal disgrace, they by a majority vote ordered the prisoner, who was suffering from gout, to be put to the torture.  The illustrious victim of their malice endured the rack without flinching, insisting on his absolute innocence of any plot against the prince’s life.  Nevertheless, early on August 19, sentence was pronounced upon him of banishment and loss of all his offices.  Later on the same day Cornelis sent a message to his brother that he should like to see him.  John, in spite of strong warnings, came to the Gevangenpoort and was admitted to the room where the Ruwaard, as a result of the cruel treatment he had received, was lying in bed; and the two brothers had a long conversation.  Meanwhile a great crowd had gathered round the prison clamouring for vengeance upon the De Witts.  Three companies of soldiers were however drawn up under the command of Count Tilly with orders from the Commissioned-Councillors to maintain order.  At the same time the schutterij—­the civic guard—­was called out.  These latter, however, were not to be trusted and were rather inclined to fraternise with the mob.  So long as Tilly’s troops were at hand, the rioters were held in restraint and no acts of violence were attempted.  It was at this critical moment that verbal orders came to Tilly to march his troops to the gates to disperse some bands of marauding peasants who were said to be approaching.  Tilly refused to move without a written order.  It came, signed by Van Asperen, the president of the Commissioned-Councillors, a strong Orange partisan.  On receiving it Tilly is said to have exclaimed, “I will obey, but the De Witts are dead men.”  The soldiers were no sooner gone than the crowd, under the leadership of Verhoef, a goldsmith, and Van Bankhem, a banker, forced the door of the prison (the schutterij either standing aloof, or actually assisting in the attack), and rushing upstairs found John de Witt sitting calmly at the foot of his brother’s bed reading aloud to him a passage of Scripture.  Hands were laid upon both with brutal violence; they were dragged into the street; and there with blows of clubs and repeated stabs done to death.  It was 4 p.m. when Tilly departed, at 4.30 all was over, but the infuriated rabble were not content with mere murder.  The bodies were shamefully mis-handled and were finally hung up by the feet to a lamppost, round which to a late hour in the evening a crowd shouted, sang and danced.  It is impossible to conceive a fate more horrible or less deserved.  The poor dishonoured remains were taken down when night fell by faithful hands and were at dawn in the presence of a few relatives and friends interred in the Nieuwe Kerk.