Remark of Fouquet’s Mother--The Prisoner’s Piety--Danger which he
escapes at Pignerol--Incessant Supervision over him at La Pérouse,
near Pignerol--Excessive Scruples of Saint-Mars--Precautions
prescribed by Louvois--Espionage exercised over Fouquet by his
Servants and his Confessor--Illnesses of the Prisoner--He devotes
himself entirely to Study and to religious Meditations--Works to
which he gives himself up--His new Motto--Interest which he continues
to take in all his Relations and in Louis XIV.--Saint-Mars’ laconic
Answers.
The fortitude with which Fouquet supported adversity has almost caused
his contemporaries to forget how he had allowed himself to be blinded
and led astray by prosperity. Without exhibiting this excessive
indulgence, without going so far as to take the part of the victim
against his judges, or to forget his errors and his faults, one cannot
prevent oneself from owning that at Pignerol he nobly expiated them by
his unceasing resignation, by his firmness and by the elevation of his
sentiments.
When Fouquet’s mother heard of his arrest, she threw herself upon her
knees, exclaiming: “It is now, O God, that I have hopes of my son’s
salvation!”[384] This prayer of a pious woman whom the grandeur of the
Surintendant had never dazzled, and whom his dissipation had caused
to mourn, was fully answered. If so unhappy as to survive her son and
to be ignorant of none of his sufferings, her sorrow may at least have
been softened by the thought that the prisoner of Pignerol sought
consolation in religion and study. During the early period of his
imprisonment at Angers, depressed by misfortune, but sustained by the
remembrance of the counsels and the virtues of his mother, he had, in a
touching letter imbued with the most pious[385] sentiments, requested a
confessor. A terrible danger encountered by him at Pignerol six months
after his arrival, and which he escaped as if by a miracle, went to
confirm him more completely in these sentiments. In the middle of the
month of June, 1665, a thunderbolt fell upon the donjon of the citadel
and set fire to the powder-magazine. A portion of the donjon was blown
down, and a large number of soldiers were entombed beneath the ruins.
Fouquet’s chamber was reached by the explosion. Some of the walls fell
and the furniture was shattered to pieces. Saint-Mars thought that his
prisoner was killed. But he was found in the embrasure of a projecting
window, and had not even received a bruise.[386] As the repairs in the
donjon necessitated by this disaster could not be completed in less
than a year, Fouquet, by orders of Louis XIV. and Louvois,[387] was
transferred for a time to the neighbouring château of La Pérouse.
Here commenced the attempts made by the prisoner, not so much to
escape--he could not be mistaken as to the impossibility of succeeding
in this--as to write to his mother and his wife, and to obtain from
them letters expected in vain since his departure from Paris. “I
have received the letters written by M. Fouquet,” Louvois informs
Saint-Mars, July 26. “The King has seen the whole, and was not
surprised that he should do his utmost to obtain news, and that you
exert all your efforts to prevent his receiving it.”[388] “To give
and receive news:” such, indeed, was Fouquet’s most lively and very
natural desire. In order to satisfy it, he made the most industrious
efforts and showed the most ingenious patience. With soot mixed with
a few drops of water he made ink, a fowl’s bone served him for a pen,
and he wrote upon a handkerchief, which he afterwards concealed in
the back of his chair.[389] He managed even to compound an ink, which
he employed to cover the margin of a book with some lines of writing
that became visible only after being warmed.[390] But Saint-Mars’[391]
vigilance frustrated these attempts. He soon discovered the hidden
handkerchief, and not content with sending this alone to the King,
also forwarded the clumsy implements fabricated and used by his
prisoner.[392] The latter having afterwards written upon ribbons, black
ones only were in future given him, and his garments were, moreover,
lined with stuff of the same colour. From this period he became the
object of a still closer surveillance, the proof of which we find in
the numerous letters exchanged between Louvois and Saint-Mars. Like
all timorous people, Saint-Mars was absolutely wanting in the spirit
of initiation, and took delight in having recourse to his chief. He
possessed no ambitious desire of exhibiting his zeal, but only an
imperious need of dissipating his alarms and of relieving himself from
responsibility. It did not suffice this timid gaoler to adopt the most
minute precautions with respect to his prisoner. He recounted them in
his correspondence with the Minister, with the view of obtaining fresh
orders, or of receiving an approval which might calm his uneasiness. It
was in this spirit that he begged Louvois to authorise him to have a
salt-cellar made for Fouquet out of his two broken candlesticks.[393]
It was in this spirit also that after having prevented his prisoner’s
servant from giving an alms, considering it suspicious, he consulted
the Minister on the subject, and solicited his advice.[394]
These excessive scruples sometimes caused him to be wanting in
humanity. He one day considered it necessary to ask Louvois for
an authorisation to have a sick prisoner bled, and the Minister,
on according it twenty days afterwards, added: “Whenever such
circumstances occur, you can have [the prisoner] treated and doctored
as may be needful without awaiting orders for it.”[395] The puerile
questions and the demands for fresh instructions became so frequent,
that the Minister was compelled to write to Saint-Mars: “I have
received your two last letters. They oblige me to tell you that, as
the King has charged you with the care of Mons. Fouquet, his Majesty
has no new orders to give you to prevent his escape, or his sending or
receiving letters.”[396] This outburst is so much the more significant
as Louvois, very prone and qualified to enter into the slightest
details, and an imperious and most exacting chief, accustomed all his
subordinates to extreme deference, and to having incessant recourse
to his authority. But in this case the Minister’s prejudices were
outstripped, and Saint-Mars alone perhaps had the power to wear out
by his pertinacity him who on ordinary occasions was most desirous of
being consulted. Moreover, we must admit, it was the only instance in
which the Minister manifested his displeasure. He habitually replied
with care to every detail comprised in the letters from the commandant
of Pignerol, and he sometimes even rivalled him in his want of
confidence. Thus it was that in December, 1670, Fouquet, who was ill,
having obtained authority to have a prescription drawn up by Pecquet,
his former medical attendant, Louvois sent it to Saint-Mars with these
words: “As soon as you have received it, you will make a very exact
copy. You will show the original to M. Fouquet, and you and he will
compare it with the copy which you will leave with him. You will then
burn the original. By this means the said Sieur Fouquet having seen it
will have no doubt, and you having burnt it will have no anxiety about
it.”[397] On another occasion, when sending a chest of tea for Fouquet,
Louvois prescribed to Saint-Mars: “To empty it into another receptacle,
and to take away the chest, and the paper which may be within the
chest, so as to leave to M. Fouquet the said tea only.”[398] Never were
orders more agreeable or more faithfully executed. These precautions
of Louvois encouraged Saint-Mars’ distrust, who thus found himself
supported in his conduct by that authority, most persuasive when it
emanates from one above us in station, namely, example.
Thus stimulated in suspicions to which he naturally inclined,
Saint-Mars was not slow to conceive that his means of surveillance
were insufficient. To see one’s prisoner often, to assure oneself
with one’s own eyes that he communicates with nobody, to examine
with care his furniture and effects, to multiply the difficulties
of an escape, seem to constitute all the duties of a conscientious
and vigilant gaoler. But the suspicious Saint-Mars was in no-wise
satisfied with these precautions. Forgetting that the prisoner’s body
alone was under his care, he wished to extend his surveillance even
to Fouquet’s thoughts. To attain this end he had recourse both to his
confessor and to the servant who waited upon him. Having, however, soon
discerned the interest which the unfortunate prisoner inspired in his
servant, Saint-Mars felt that he could not rely upon the sincerity of
his reports, and he attached to the person of Fouquet a second valet,
who was instructed to watch the first, and was himself the object of
a secret surveillance on the part of the latter.[399] As for the
confessor, to control him was impossible, and in fact would have been
unnecessary. We read in the correspondence of Louvois and Saint-Mars
that “he was a good man,”[400] which is another proof how differently
the conduct of men may be appreciated. In the eyes of Louvois and of
Saint-Mars Fouquet’s confessor was a _good man_, because he consented
to act as a spy; because, as Fouquet wrote later to his wife, “instead
of having God in view, he acted the cowardly part of making his fortune
at the expense of one in trouble.” He succeeded; for Saint-Mars
obtained a promise from Louvois “that he should receive a living when
he should cease to fulfil his office.”[401] The first instructions
given to Saint-Mars authorised him to change the priest each time that
Fouquet desired to confess. But when they had discovered this “good
man,” they abandoned henceforth this useless precaution, and Fouquet
in vain requested to be allowed to make a general confession to the
Superior of the Jesuits, then to the Superiors of the Récollets and
Capucines of Pignerol.[402]
These proceedings, and the non-success of an attempt made in 1669 by
an old servant of Fouquet’s,[403] who endeavoured, by corrupting
some soldiers, to place himself in communication with his master,
induced the latter to give himself up entirely to study and religious
meditations. He renounced the project of communicating with his
relations and friends. The salvation of his soul and the care of his
body alone occupied his thoughts. Deprived long since of all physical
exercise, and having suddenly exchanged an existence, excited by
travel, and adorned by everything that could make life attractive
and sweet, for the solitude and inactivity of a prison, Fouquet had
seen his health rapidly decay, and innumerable disorders seize on
him.[404] “There is not a disease to which the body is liable,” he
wrote to his wife, “of which mine has not experienced some symptom. I
am no sooner quit of one than it is succeeded by another, and I can
but suppose that these will only cease with my life. I should require
a large volume to describe my sufferings in detail, but the principal
one is that my stomach does not act in concert with my liver; what
suits one is injurious to the other, and, what is more, my legs are
always swollen.”... “The best thing to be done,” he says afterwards,
“is to give up all care of the body, and to think of one’s soul. This
is important to us, and yet we show more concern for the body.” In
truth, he gave as much attention to one as to the other. Distrustful
of the surgeon of the citadel, he compounded himself the remedies
which suited him best; and in order, no doubt, that he might avail
himself of his servant as an auxiliary, he instructed him in the art
of dispensing.[405] The first books which Saint-Mars consented to
give him after having received authority to do so, were the Bible and
a history of France. Later, the works of Clavius and St. Bonaventura
were added; and then, by desire of the prisoner, a dictionary of
rhymes.[406] Poetry to him was nothing more than a relaxation, and
he devoted himself above all to reading religious works and to the
production of several lengthy treatises on morals. The remembrance
of his former grandeur clashed in them with the impressions of his
profound fall. The Christian preoccupied with his salvation, the
philosopher enlightened by adversity, the recluse giving himself up to
the contemplation of divine things, hold in their turn a language of
sublime and unchangeable serenity. One finds in almost every page proof
of this resignation in disgrace, and of this contentment in affliction
which Christianity can alone inspire. He whose haughty motto, for a
long time justified by events, had been _Quo non ascendam_, now humbly
submissive to his lot, adopted the touching emblem of the silkworm in
his cocoon with these words: _Inclusum labor illustrat!_
However, Fouquet was not so detached from things terrestrial as not
to interest himself in them at all. His mother, wife and several
children, being still alive, his thoughts often turned towards these
dearly beloved beings, and also, but without bitterness, towards
Louis XIV. and his conquests, towards the Court and the Ministers.
He often questioned Saint-Mars. The latter’s replies were brief, and
so unprecise that he considered himself obliged to write to Louvois
and inquire in what sense he ought to answer.[407] Entirely master of
his prisoner, sure of those who surrounded him, he believed that the
barrier which he had erected around him was insuperable, and thought
that he would be able to keep him apprised of contemporary events as
he pleased, or else leave him in the most complete ignorance. Useless
efforts and vain confidence in his power! The enterprising audacity and
industrious perseverance of a prisoner recently brought to Pignerol,
triumphed over even the innumerable precautions of the most suspicious
of gaolers.
FOOTNOTES:
[384] _Mémoires de Choisy_, p. 590.
[385] M. Feuillet de Conches, _Causeries d’un Curieux_, vol. ii. p.
529. “M. d’Artagnan told me,” says Olivier d’Ormesson in his _Journal_,
“that M. Fouquet, during the first three weeks, was very unquiet
and amazed, but that his mind grew calmer, and that he became very
self-possessed afterwards, giving himself up largely to devotion; that
he fasted every week on Wednesday and Friday, and besides this, lived
on Saturday on bread and water; that he rose before seven o’clock,
said his prayers, and after that worked till nine o’clock; that he
subsequently heard mass.”--_Journal d’Olivier d’Ormesson_, vol. ii. p.
52.
[386] Letters from Louvois to Saint-Mars, June 29, 1665, and from
Colbert to the same, on the same day. People at Paris as well as at
Pignerol did not fail to say that heaven had judged him innocent whom
men had condemned. See _Lettres de Madame de Sévigné et de Guy Patin_;
_Journal d’Olivier d’Ormesson_, vol. ii. p. 372; _Œuvres de Fouquet_,
vol. xvi.
[387] Order of Louis XIV., countersigned by Le Tellier, and dated from
Saint-Germain, June 29, 1665. It was Saint-Mars who, with his free
company as escort, took Fouquet to La Pérouse, and continued to guard
him there till the month of August, 1666, at which period he brought
him back to Pignerol.
[388] Delort, _Histoire de la Détention des Philosophes_, vol. i. p.
103.
[389] Letters from Louvois to Saint-Mars, July 26 and December 18, 1665.
[390] Louvois inquired in vain as to the manner in which Fouquet had
been able to compound this sympathetic ink. “It is necessary,” he wrote
to Saint-Mars on July 26, 1665, “that you should endeavour to find out
from Monsieur de Fouquet’s servant how [his master] has written the
four lines which appeared upon the book on warming it, and of what he
has composed this writing.”
[391] The following is one of the first letters written from Pignerol
by Saint-Mars. It is one of the rare letters addressed to Colbert.
Saint-Mars made some progress in orthography after this, and the later
despatches which we have of his show a rather less imperfect knowledge
of the French language:--
“At Pignerol, this 13 February, 1665.
“MONSEIGNEUR--I have nothing fresh to tell you; everything is going
on all right, in my humble opinion. I had been assured that there was
a man of M. Fouquet’s here in the town. I had him sought for by the
major, he has not been found; he has not shown himself before the
prisoner’s windows, and I have taken care to say everywhere that I
would not advise him to appear before the donjon, and that [if he did]
it would not be a case of live and let live. I believe that this has
frightened him. I thank you very humbly, Monseigneur, for the care
and kindness that you have for me. I have received, by the last post,
an account for the subsistence here for the present month which I am
about to draw. My company arrived here on the 9th, and has already
mounted guard. There is so much work to do here for the safety of a
prisoner that I shall not be altogether settled for three weeks. M.
Fouquet wishes to confess every month. I have given him a confessor
who is of the household of one M. d’Amorclan, a man altogether devoted
to Mgr. le Tèlier. For myself, I should approve of him; but as I have
received orders to change him continually, I shall not allow him to
confess until I receive your commands. I shall always await them with
impatience, having no stronger desire than to please you, and to call
myself all my life, Monseigneur, your very humble,” &c.--Manuscripts of
the Imperial Library, Volumes in Green, C.
[392] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, August 24, 1665.
[393] _Ibid._, August 2, 1665.
[394] _Ibid._, March 26, 1669.
[395] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, September 25, 1669.
[396] _Ibid._, December 25, 1665.
[397] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, December 13, 1670.
[398] _Ibid._, November 27, 1677.
[399] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, February 14, 1667.
[400] _Ibid._, February 24, 1665. See also letters of February 20 and
April 24, 1665.
[401] Letter of April 17, 1670. Moreover, the King from time to time
granted him gratuities. See among others, in Delort, a letter of June
4, 1666.
[402] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, October 1, 1668.
[403] Named Laforest. Five soldiers received money and were severely
punished. Laforest was arrested, condemned to death, and executed on
the spot. Despatches from Louvois to Saint-Mars, December 17, 1669, and
January 1, 1670.
[404] Letters of Louvois to Saint-Mars, November 21, 1667, October 9,
1668, January 2, 1670, April 15, 1675, and July 3, 1677.
[405] Delort, _Histoire de la Détention des Philosophes_, vol. i. p. 33.
[406] Despatches from Louvois to Saint-Mars, March 3, September 12,
1665, October 23, 1666, and April 8, 1678.
[407] Letter from Louvois to Saint-Mars, November 22, 1667 and March 1,
1673. “There is no great inconvenience,” writes Louvois to Saint-Mars,
“in M. Fouquet’s knowing that the King has made war 011 the Dutch. So
do not persuade yourself that you have been deficient in any way in
giving him a book which has apprised him of this.”--Letter from Louvois
to Saint-Mars, July 2, 1673. “I have received your letter of the 16th
of this month, which requires no answer except to say that the King
approves your informing M. Fouquet of the current news, according as
his Majesty has already permitted you.”--Letter of April 25, 1678.