It was much disputed whether these instructions had been left purposely or by accident in the table-drawer.  Jeannin could not make up his mind whether it was a trick or not, and the vociferous lamentations of Richardot upon his misfortunes made little impression upon his mind.  He had small confidence in any austerity of principle on the part of his former fellow-leaguer that would prevent him from leaving the document by stealth, and then protesting that he had been foully wronged by its coming to light.  On the whole, he was inclined to think, however, that the paper had been stolen from him.

Barneveld, after much inquiry, was convinced that it had been left in the drawer by accident.

Richardot himself manifested rage and dismay when he found that a paper, left by chance in his lodgings, had been published by the States.  Such a proceeding was a violation, he exclaimed, of the laws of hospitality.  With equal justice, he declared it to be an offence against the religious respect due to ambassadors, whose persons and property were sacred in foreign countries.  “Decency required the States,” he said, “to send the document back to him, instead of showing it as a trophy, and he was ready to die of shame and vexation at the unlucky incident.”

Few honourable men will disagree with him in these complaints, although many contemporaries obstinately refused to believe that the crafty and experienced diplomatist could have so carelessly left about his most important archives.  He was generally thought by those who had most dealt with him, to prefer, on principle, a crooked path to a straight one.  “’Tis a mischievous old monkey,” said Villeroy on another occasion, “that likes always to turn its tail instead of going directly to the purpose.”  The archduke, however, was very indulgent to his plenipotentiary.  “My good master,” said the, president, “so soon as he learned the loss of that accursed paper, benignantly consoled, instead of chastising me; and, after having looked over the draught, was glad that the accident had happened; for thus his sincerity had been proved, and those who sought profit by the trick had been confounded.”  On the other hand, what good could it do to the cause of peace, that these wonderful instructions should be published throughout the republic?  They might almost seem a fiction, invented by the war party to inspire a general disgust for any further negotiation.  Every loyal Netherlander would necessarily be qualmish at the word peace, now that the whole design of the Spanish party was disclosed.

The public exercise of the Roman religion was now known to be the indispensable condition—­first, last, and always—­to any possible peace.  Every citizen of the republic was to be whipped out of the East and West Indies, should he dare to show his face in those regions.  The States-General, while swallowing the crumb of sovereignty vouchsafed by the archdukes, were to accept them as protectors, in order not to fall a prey to the enemies whom they imagined to be their friends.