together in the more southern provinces, under the
name of Malcontents. Stigmatized by the Calvinists
as “Paternoster Jacks,” they were daily
drawing closer their alliance with Alencon; and weakening
the bands which united them with their Protestant
brethren. Count John had at length become a permanent
functionary in the Netherlands. Urgently solicited
by the leaders and the great multitude of the Reformers,
he had long been unwilling to abandon his home, and
to neglect the private affairs which his devotion
to the Netherland cause had thrown into great confusion.
The Landgrave, too, whose advice he had asked, had
strongly urged him not to “dip his fingers into
the olla podrida.” The future of the provinces
was, in his opinion, so big with disaster, that the
past, with all its horrors; under Alva and Requesens,
had only furnished the “preludia” of that
which was to ensue. For these desperate views
his main reason, as usual, was the comet; that mischievous
luminary still continuing to cast a lurid glare across
the Landgrave’s path. Notwithstanding these
direful warnings from a prince of the Reformation,
notwithstanding the “olla podrida” and
the “comet,” Count John had nevertheless
accepted the office of Governor of Gelderland, to
which he had been elected by the estates of that province
on the 11th of March. That important bulwark of
Holland, Zealand, and Utrecht on the one side, and
of Groningen and Friesland on the other—the
main buttress, in short, of the nascent republic, was
now in hands which would defend it to the last.
As soon as the discussion came up in the states-general
on the subject of the Dort petitions, Orange requested
that every member who had formed his opinions should
express them fully and frankly. All wished, however,
to be guided and governed by the sentiments of the
Prince. Not a man spoke, save to demand their
leader’s views, and to express adhesion in advance
to the course which his wisdom might suggest.
The result was a projected convention, a draft for
a religious peace, which, if definitely established,
would have healed many wounds and averted much calamity.
It was not, however, destined to be accepted at that
time by the states of the different provinces where
it was brought up for discussion; and several changes
were made, both of form and substance, before the system
was adopted at all. Meantime, for the important
city of Antwerp, where religious broils were again
on the point of breaking out, the Prince preferred
a provisional arrangement, which he forthwith carried
into execution. A proclamation, in the name of
the Archduke Matthias and of the State Council, assigned
five special places in the city where the members
of the “pretended Reformed religion” should
have liberty to exercise their religious worship,
with preaching, singing, and the sacraments.
The churchyards of the parochial churches were to be
opened for the burial of their dead, but the funerals
were to be unaccompanied with exhortation, or any