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In 1672, the Dutch Republic was reeling from a French invasion, and panic gripped every corner of the country. Blame needed a face, and the public settled on Johan de Witt, the man who had run the government for nearly two decades.
De Witt wasn't a king or a dictator. As Grand Pensionary, he held enormous influence without an army of loyal soldiers or royal guards to protect him when the mood in the streets turned.
His brother Cornelis was arrested on flimsy treason charges, and when Johan came to visit him in prison, a mob gathered outside The Hague's jail. The crowd dragged both brothers out and beat them to death in broad daylight.
What happened next is the part that still stuns historians. The bodies were strung up, mutilated, and pieces were reportedly cooked and eaten by members of the crowd.
Some accounts describe onlookers selling slices of the brothers' flesh, and even display of body parts as grim souvenirs. Prints and paintings of the massacre circulated for years afterward, treated almost as historical trophies rather than horrors.
The man widely blamed for orchestrating the unrest, William III of Orange, rose to power almost immediately after the killings. He never faced consequences, and many suspect he quietly encouraged the chaos that ended his rivals' lives.
Today the event is remembered in Dutch history as one of the darkest days of the Republic, a moment when political fear curdled into something almost unthinkable. It stands as a reminder that even respected leaders can become targets overnight when a nation feels cornered.