These exhortations exerted a wholesome effect for a moment, but matters soon went from bad to worse.  Imbize, fearing the influence of the Prince, indulged in open-mouthed abuse of a man whose character he was unable even to comprehend, He accused him of intriguing with France for his own benefit, of being a Papist in disguise, of desiring to establish what he called a “religious peace,” merely to restore Roman idolatry.  In all these insane ravings, the demagogue was most ably seconded by the ex-monk.  Incessant and unlicensed were the invectives hurled by Peter Dathenus from his pulpit upon William the Silent’s head.  He denounced him—­as he had often done before—­as an atheist in heart; as a man who changed his religion as easily as his garments; as a man who knew no God but state expediency, which was the idol of his worship; a mere politician who would tear his shirt from his back and throw it in the fire, if he thought it were tainted with religion.

Such witless but vehement denunciation from a preacher who was both popular and comparatively sincere, could, not but affect the imagination of the weaker portion of his, healers.  The faction of Imbize became triumphant.  Ryhove—­the ruffian whose hands were stained with the recent blood of Visch and Hessels—­rather did damage than service to the cause of order.  He opposed himself to the demagogue who was prating daily of Greece, Rome, and Geneva, while his clerical associate was denouncing William of Orange, but he opposed himself in vain.  An attempt to secure the person of Imbize failed, but by the influence of Ryhove, however, a messenger was despatched to Antwerp in the name of a considerable portion of the community of Ghent.  The counsel and the presence of the man to whom all hearts in every part of the Netherlands instinctively turned in the hour of need, were once more invoked.

The Prince again addressed them in language which none but he could employ with such effect.  He told them that his life, passed in service and sacrifice, ought to witness sufficiently for his fidelity.  Nevertheless, he thought it necessary—­in view of the calumnies which were circulated—­to repeat once more his sentiment that no treaty of peace, war, or alliance, ought to be negotiated, save with the consent of the people.  His course in Holland and Zealand had proved, he said, his willingness always to consult the wishes of his countrymen.  As for the matter of religion it was almost incredible that there should be any who doubted the zeal which he bore the religion for which he had suffered so much.  “I desire,” he continued, fervently, “that men should compare that which has been done by my accusers during ten years past with that which I have done.  In that which touches the true advancement of religion, I will yield to no man.  They who so boldly accuse me have no liberty of speech, save that which has been acquired for them by the blood of my kindred, by my labors, and my excessive expenditures.  To me they owe it that they dare speak at all.”  This letter, (which was dated on the 24th of July, 1579) contained an assurance that the writer was about to visit Ghent.