After the capture of Mons and the sack of Mechlin, the Duke of Alva had taken his way to Nimwegen, having despatched his son, Don Frederic, to reduce the northern and eastern country, which was only too ready to submit to the conqueror.  Very little resistance was made by any of the cities which had so recently, and—­with such enthusiasm, embraced the cause of Orange.  Zutphen attempted a feeble opposition to the entrance of the King’s troops, and received a dreadful chastisement in consequence.  Alva sent orders to his son to leave not a single man alive in the city, and to burn every house to the ground.  The Duke’s command was almost literally obeyed.  Don Frederic entered Zutphen, and without a moment’s warning put the whole garrison to the sword.  The citizens next fell a defenceless, prey; some being, stabbed in the streets, some hanged on the trees which decorated the city, some stripped stark naked; and turned out into the fields to freeze to death in the wintry night.  As the work of death became too fatiguing for the butchers, five hundred innocent burghers were tied two and two, back to back, and drowned like dogs in the river Yssel.  A few stragglers who had contrived to elude pursuit at first, were afterwards taken from their hiding places and hung upon the gallows by the feet, some of which victims suffered four days and nights of agony before death came to their relief.  It is superfluous to add that the outrages upon women were no less universal in Zutphen than they had been in every city captured or occupied by the Spanish troops.  These horrors continued till scarcely chastity or life remained, throughout the miserable city.

This attack and massacre had been so suddenly executed, that assistance would hardly have been possible, even had there been disposition to render it.  There was; however, no such disposition.  The whole country was already cowering again, except the provinces of Holland and Zealand.  No one dared approach, even to learn what had occurred within the walls of the town, for days after its doom had been accomplished.  “A wail of agony was heard above Zutphen last Sunday,” wrote Count Nieuwenar, “a sound as of a mighty massacre, but we know not what has taken place.”

Count Van, den Bergh, another brother-in-law of Orange, proved himself signally unworthy of the illustrious race to which he was allied.  He had, in the earlier part of the year, received the homage of the cities of Gelderland and Overyssel, on behalf of the patriot Prince.  He now basely abandoned the field where he had endeavoured to gather laurels while the sun of success had been shining.  Having written from Kampen, whither he had retired, that he meant to hold the city to the last gasp, he immediately afterwards fled secretly and precipitately from the country.  In his flight he was plundered by his own people, while his wife, Mary of Nassau, then far advanced in pregnancy, was left behind, disguised as a peasant girl, in an obscure village.