Thursday, November 21, 1664.
The examination upon the subject of the grants was resumed to-day. The
chancellor kindly endeavored to drive M. Fouquet to extremities, and
to embarrass him, but he did not succeed. M. Fouquet acquitted himself
admirably; he did not come into the chamber of justice till eleven
o’clock, because the chancellor made the reporter read as before; but
in spite of this parade of justice, he said the worst he could of
our poor friend. The reporter[273] always took his part, because the
chancellor evidently leaned to the other side of the question. At last
he said, “Here is a charge to which the accused will not be able to
answer.” “And here, sir,” said the reporter, “is a plaster that will
cure the weakness;” he made an excellent justification of him, and then
added: “In the place in which I stand, sir, I shall always speak the
truth, in whatever form it presents itself to me.”
[273] The reporter was M. d’Ormesson, one of the most respectable
magistrates of his time.
This allusion to a plaster called forth a smile from the audience,
as it reminded them of the one that has lately made so much noise
at court. The accused was then brought in; he only remained an hour
in court; and, on his leaving it, M. d’Ormesson was complimented by
several persons upon his firmness.
I must relate to you what I myself did. Some ladies proposed to me
to accompany them to a house exactly opposite the arsenal, where we
could see the return of our poor friend. I was masked,[274] but my
eye caught him the moment he was in view. M. d’Artagan was at his
side, and fifty mousquetaires about thirty or forty steps behind him.
He appeared thoughtful. The moment I saw him my legs trembled, and
my heart beat so violently that I could scarcely support myself. In
approaching us to re-enter his dungeon, M. d’Artagan pointed out to him
that we were there, and he saluted us with the same delightful smile
you have so often witnessed. I do not believe he recognized me; but
I own I was strangely affected when I saw him enter the little door.
If you knew the misfortune of having a heart like mine, I am sure you
would pity me; but from what I know of you, I do not think you have
much the advantage of me in this point. I have been to see your dear
neighbor. I pity you as much at losing her as I rejoice at her being
with us. We have had a good deal of conversation upon the subject of
our poor friend; she has seen Sappho,[275] who has considerably raised
her spirits. I shall go there to-morrow, to recruit my own; for I often
feel the want of consolation; it is not that I do not hear a thousand
things, that should inspire hope; but alas! my imagination is so
lively, that every thing which is uncertain destroys me.
[274] It was still the custom for ladies to wear masks when they
went abroad; a custom which is retained in Corneille’s plays,
and which was brought from Italy by the Medicis, with many other
customs equally disagreeable. These masks of black velvet, to
which the _loups_ succeeded, were intended as a preservative to
the complexion.
[275] Mademoiselle Scudery, sister of the author, known under
this name by an unfortunate fertility of imagination; a woman who
had more wit than her writings display, though they display a
great deal.
Friday, November 28.
The court opened early this morning. The chancellor said he had now
to speak of the four loans: D’Ormesson observed, that it was a very
unimportant affair, and one upon which no blame could be attached to
M. Fouquet, as he had declared from the beginning. An attempt was made
to contradict him: he begged leave to explain the matter according to
his own view of it, and desired his colleagues to listen to him. The
court was attentive, and he convinced them that it was a very trifling
business. The accused was then ordered to be brought in; it was eleven
o’clock. You will remark that he has never been more than an hour upon
the sellette. The chancellor still wished to speak of the loans. M.
Fouquet requested he might be allowed to state what he had omitted the
day before, respecting the grants; leave was given him, and he said
wonders. The chancellor asked him, “Have you had your acquittance for
the employment of this sum?” He replied that he had, but that it was
conjointly with other things which he had marked, and which will come
in their course. “But,” said the chancellor, “at the time you received
these acquittances you had not incurred the expenses?” “True,” replied
M. Fouquet, “but the sums were set apart for the purpose.” “This is
not enough,” said the chancellor, “Pardon me, sir,” said M. Fouquet;
“when I gave you your appointments, for instance, I sometimes received
the acquittance a month beforehand, and as the sum was set apart, it
was exactly the same as if it had been paid.” “That is true,” said the
chancellor; “I was much indebted to you.” M. Fouquet replied that he
had no intention to reproach him, and that he was at that time happy
to serve him; but the circumstance had occurred to his mind, as an
instance in point, and he could not help making use of it.
The court has closed till Monday. They seem determined to prolong the
affair as much as possible. Puis*** has promised to give the accused as
few opportunities of speaking as he can. The fact is, they are afraid
of him. They would, therefore, interrogate him summarily, and even pass
over some of the articles; but he is determined they shall not do this,
nor will he suffer them to judge his cause without his being permitted
to justify himself upon every separate head of accusation. Puis*** is
in continual apprehension of offending Petit. He excused himself the
other day by saying that M. Fouquet had certainly spoken too long, but
that he had no means of interrupting him. Ch*** is constantly behind
the screen whenever the examinations take place; he hears all that is
said, and offers to go to the judges and explain the reasons by which
he is led to draw such opposite conclusions. All this is irregular,
and shows a great inveteracy against the unfortunate prisoner. I own I
have no longer any hope. Adieu, sir, till Monday. I wish you could see
my heart, you would then be convinced of the sincerity of a friendship
which you profess to prize.