Thursday, December 4, 1664.
At length the examinations are over. M. Fouquet entered the chamber
this morning. The chancellor ordered his _project against the state_
to be read throughout. M. Fouquet spoke first upon the subject. “I
believe, sir,” said he, “you can derive nothing from this paper, but
the effect it has just produced, of overwhelming me with confusion.”
The chancellor replied, “You have yourself heard and seen by it that
your regard for the state, which you have so much insisted upon in
court, was not so considerable but that you would have embroiled it
from one end to the other.” “Sir,” replied M. Fouquet, “this idea
occurred to me only in the height of the despair in which the cardinal
often placed me; especially when, after contributing more than any
man in the world to his return to France, I found myself repaid by
the basest ingratitude. I had a letter from himself, and one from the
queen-mother, in proof of what I say; but they have been taken away
with my papers, as have several letters. It is to be lamented that I
did not burn this unfortunate paper which had so completely escaped
my mind and my memory that I have been nearly two years without
thinking of it or knowing even that it existed. However this affair may
terminate, I disown it with my whole heart, and I entreat you, sir, to
believe, that my regard for the person and the service of the king has
never been in the slightest degree diminished.” “It is very difficult
to believe this,” said the chancellor, “when we see such contrary
sentiments expressed at a different period.” M. Fouquet replied, “At
no period, sir, even though at the hazard of my life, have I ever
abandoned the king’s person; and at the time in question, you, sir,
were at the head of the council of his enemies, and your relations gave
free passage to the army against him.”
The chancellor felt this stroke; but our poor friend was irritated, and
therefore not quite master of himself. The subject of his expenses was
afterward introduced. “I undertake,” said he, “to prove that I have not
incurred a single expense which, either by means of my private income,
with which the cardinal was well acquainted, or my appointments, or my
wife’s fortune, I was not able to afford; and if I do not prove this
satisfactorily, I consent to be treated with the utmost ignominy.” In
short, this interrogation lasted two hours; M. Fouquet defended himself
ably, but with a degree of warmth and petulance; the reading of the
project having ruffled him exceedingly.
When he had left the court, the chancellor said, “This is the last time
we shall interrogate him.” M. Poncet then went up to the chancellor,
and said, “You have made no mention, sir, of the proofs there are that
he had attempted to put his project against the state into execution.”
The chancellor replied, “They are not, sir, sufficiently strong; he
would have refuted them too easily.” Upon which Saint Hélène and
Puissort said, “Every one is not of that opinion.” This is a subject to
muse upon. The rest to-morrow.
Friday, December 5.
This morning the subject of the requests was mentioned, which are of
little importance except that there are persons, not ill disposed, who
wish the sentence to refer to them. The business on the side of the
prosecution is at an end. It is now M. d’Ormesson’s turn to speak; he
is to recapitulate the several matters. This will occupy the whole
of the next week, during which the time we shall pass can scarcely
be called living. For myself, you would hardly know me, and I do not
think I can hold out so long. M. d’Ormesson has desired me not to see
him again till the business is over: he is in the conclave, and will
have intercourse with no one. He affects great reserve; he listens to
me, but does not answer. I had the pleasure, in bidding him adieu, to
acquaint him with my sentiments. I will inform you of all I hear. God
grant my last tidings may be good; I desire it fervently. I assure
you we are all very much to be pitied. I mean you and I, and all who,
like ourselves, are interested in the event. Adieu, my dear sir: I am
so dull this evening, and my heart is so much oppressed that I must
conclude.