Thus much for England and France.  As for Germany, the prospects of the Netherlands were not flattering.  The Reforming spirit had grown languid, from various causes.  The self-seeking motives of many Protestant princes had disgusted the nobles.  Was that the object of the bloody wars of religion, that a few potentates should be enabled to enrich themselves by confiscating the broad lands and accumulated treasures of the Church?  Had the creed of Luther been embraced only for such unworthy ends?  These suspicions chilled the ardor of thousands, particularly among the greater ones of the land.  Moreover, the discord among the Reformers themselves waxed daily, and became more and more mischievous.  Neither the people nor their leaders could learn that, not a new doctrine, but a wise toleration for all Christian doctrines was wanted.  Of new doctrines there was no lack.  Lutherans, Calvinists, Flaccianists, Majorists, Adiaphorists, Brantianists, Ubiquitists, swarmed and contended pell-mell.  In this there would have been small harm, if the Reformers had known what reformation meant.  But they could not invent or imagine toleration.  All claimed the privilege of persecuting.  There were sagacious and honest men among the great ones of the country, but they were but few.  Wise William of Hesse strove hard to effect a concordia among the jarring sects; Count John of Nassau, though a passionate Calvinist, did no less; while the Elector of Saxony, on the other hand, raging and roaring like a bull of Bashan, was for sacrificing the interest of millions on the altar of his personal spite.  Cursed was his tribe if he forgave the Prince.  He had done what he could at the Diet of Ratisbon to exclude all Calvinists from a participation in the religious peace of Germany, and he redoubled his efforts to prevent the extension of any benefits to the Calvinists of the Netherlands.  These determinations had remained constant and intense.

On the whole, the political appearance of Germany was as menacing as that of France seemed for a time favorable to the schemes of Orange.  The quarrels of the princes, and the daily widening schism between Lutherans and Calvinists, seemed to bode little good to the cause of religious freedom.  The potentates were perplexed and at variance, the nobles lukewarm and discontented.  Among the people, although subdivided into hostile factions, there was more life.  Here, at least, were heartiness of love and hate, enthusiastic conviction, earnestness and agitation.  “The true religion,” wrote Count John, “is spreading daily among the common men.  Among the powerful, who think themselves highly learned, and who sit in roses, it grows, alas, little.  Here and there a Nicodemus or two may be found, but things will hardly go better here than in France or the Netherlands.”