“The service of Your Majesty cannot prevent M. Fouquet from being surintendant-général.”
“Well?”
“That, in consequence of holding that post, he has for him all the parliament, as he has all the army by his largesses, literature by his favors, and the noblesse by his presents.”
“That is to say, then, that I can do nothing against M. Fouquet?”
“Absolutely nothing—at least at present, sire.”
“You are a sterile counselor, M. Colbert.”
“Oh, no, sire; for I will not confine myself to pointing out the peril to Your Majesty.”
“Come, then, where shall we begin to undermine this Colossus; let us see”; and His Majesty began to laugh bitterly.
“He has grown great by money; kill him by money, sire.”
“If I were to deprive him of his charge?”
“A bad means, sire.”
“The good—the good, then?”
“Ruin him, sire, that is the way.”
“But how?”
“Occasions will not be wanting; take advantage of all occasions.”
“Point them out to me.”
“Here is one at once. His Royal Highness Monsieur is about to be married; his nuptials must be magnificent. That is a good occasion for Your Majesty to demand a million of M. Fouquet. M. Fouquet, who pays twenty thousand livres down when he need not pay more than five thousand, will easily find that million when Your Majesty demands it.”
“That is all very well; I will demand it,” said Louis.
“If Your Majesty will sign the ordonnance I will have the money got together myself.” And Colbert pushed a paper before the king, and presented a pen to him.
At that moment the usher opened the door and announced Monsieur le Surintendant. Louis turned pale. Colbert let the pen fall, and drew back from the king, over whom he extended his black wings like an evil spirit. The superintendent made his entrance like a man of the court, to whom a single glance was sufficient to make him appreciate the situation. That situation was not very encouraging for Fouquet, whatever might be his consciousness of strength. The small black eye of Colbert, dilated by envy, and the limpid eye of Louis XIV inflamed by anger, signalled some pressing danger. Courtiers are, with regard to court rumors, like old soldiers, who distinguish through the blasts of wind and bluster of leaves the sound of the distant steps of an armed troop. They can, after having listened, tell pretty nearly how many men are marching, how many arms resound, how many cannons roll. Fouquet had then only to interrogate the silence which his arrival had produced; he found it big with menacing revelations. The king allowed him time enough to advance as far as the middle of the chamber. His adolescent modesty commanded this forbearance of the moment. Fouquet boldly seized the opportunity.
“Sire,” said he, “I was impatient to see Your Majesty.”
“What for?” asked Louis.
“To announce some good news to you.”
Colbert, minus grandeur of person, less largeness of heart, resembled Fouquet in many points. He had the same penetration, the same knowledge of men; moreover, that great power of self-compression which gives to hypocrites time to reflect, and gather themselves up to take a spring. He guessed that Fouquet was going to meet the blow he was about to deal him. His eyes glittered ominously.
“What news?” asked the king. Fouquet placed a roll of papers on the table.
“Let Your Majesty have the goodness to cast your eyes over this work,” said he. The king slowly unfolded the paper.
“Plans?” said he.
“Yes, sire.”
“And what are these plans?”
“A new fortification, sire.”
“Ah, ah!” said the king, “you amuse yourself with tactics and strategies then, M. Fouquet?”
“I occupy myself with everything that may be useful to the reign of Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet.
“Beautiful descriptions!” said the king, looking at the design.
“Your Majesty comprehends, without doubt,” said Fouquet, bending over the paper; “here is the circle of the walls, here are the forts, there the advanced works.”
“And what do I see here, Monsieur?”
“The sea.”
“The sea all round?”
“Yes, sire.”
“And what is, then, the name of this place of which you show me the plan?”
“Sire, it is Belle-Île-en-Mer,” replied Fouquet with simplicity.
At this word, at this name, Colbert made so marked a movement, that the king turned round to enforce the necessity for reserve. Fouquet did not appear to be the least in the world concerned by the movement of Colbert, or the king’s signal.
“Monsieur,” continued Louis, “you have then fortified Belle-Isle?”
“Yes, sire; and I have brought the plan and the accounts to Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet; “I have expended sixteen hundred livres in this operation.”
“What to do?” replied Louis, coldly, having taken the initiative from a malicious look of the intendant.
“For an aim very easy to seize,” replied Fouquet. “Your Majesty was on cool terms with Great Britain.”
“Yes; but since the restoration of King Charles II I have formed an alliance with him.”
“A month since, sire, Your Majesty has truly said; but it is more than six months since the fortifications of Belle-Isle were begun.”
“Then they have become useless.”
“Sire, fortifications are never useless. I fortified Belle-Isle against MM. Monck and Lambert and all those London citizens who were playing at soldiers. Belle-Isle will be ready fortified against the Dutch, against whom either England or Your Majesty cannot fail to make war.”
The king was again silent, and looked askant at Colbert. “Belle-Isle, I believe,” added Louis, “is yours, M. Fouquet?”
“No, sire.”
“Whose then?”
“Your Majesty’s.”
Colbert was seized with as much terror as if a gulf had opened beneath his feet. Louis started with admiration, either at the genius or the devotion of Fouquet.
“Explain yourself, Monsieur,” said he.
“Nothing more easy, sire; Belle-Isle is one of my estates; I have fortified it at my own expense. But as nothing in the world can oppose a subject making an humble present to his king, I offer Your Majesty the proprietorship of the estate, of which you will leave me the usufruct. Belle-Isle, as a place of war, ought to be occupied by the king. Your Majesty will be able, henceforth, to keep a safe garrison there.”
Colbert felt almost sinking down upon the floor. To keep himself from falling, he was obliged
