eputies from
Utrecht succeeded at last in arranging terms, which were accepted by the
sister city. The basis of the treaty was, as usual, the nominal supremacy
of the Catholic religion, with toleration for the Reformed worship. The
necessary effect would be, as in Harlem, Utrecht, and other places, to
establish the new religion upon an entire equality with the old. It was
arranged that no congregations were to be disturbed in their religious
exercises in the places respectively assigned to them. Those of the
Reformed faith were to celebrate their worship without the walls. They
were, however, to enjoy the right of burying their dead within these
precincts, and it is singular how much importance was attached at that
day to a custom, at which the common sentiment and the common sense of
modern times revolt. "To bury our dead within our own cities is a right
hardly to be denied to a dog," said the Prince of Orange; and accordingly
this right was amply secured by the new Satisfaction of Amsterdam. It
was, however, stipulated that the funerals should be modest, and attended
by no more than twenty-four persons at once. The treaty was hailed with
boundless joy in Holland and Zealand, while countless benedictions were
invoked upon the "blessed peace-makers," as the Utrecht deputies walked
through the streets of Amsterdam. There is no doubt that the triumph thus
achieved by the national party far counterbalanced the Governor-General's
victory at Gemblours.

Meantime, the Seigneur de Selles, brother of the deceased Noircarmes, had
arrived from Spain. He was the special bearer of a letter from the King
to the states-general, written in reply to their communications of the
24th of August and 8th of September of the previous year. The tone of the
royal despatch was very affectionate, the substance such as entirely to
justify the whole policy of Orange. It was obvious that the penetrating
and steadfast statesman had been correct in refusing to be moved to the
right or the left by the specious language of Philip's former letters, or
by the apparent frankness of Don John. No doubt the Governor had been
sincere in his desire for peace, but the Prince knew very well his
incapacity to confer that blessing. The Prince knew--what no man else
appeared fully to comprehend at that epoch--that the mortal combat
between the Inquisition and the Reformation was already fully engaged.
The great battle between divine reason and right divine, on which