3
The Skin of the Bear
COLBERT HANDED THE DUCHESSE the letter, and gently
drew aside the chair behind which she was standing. Madame de
Chevreuse, with a very slight bow, immediately left the room.
Colbert, who had recognised Mazarin’s handwriting, and had counted
the letters, rang to summon his secretary, whom he enjoined to go
in immediate search of M. Vanel, a counsellor of the Parliament.
The secretary replied that, according to his usual practice, M.
Vanel had just that moment entered the house, in order to render to
the Intendant an account of the principal details of the business
which had been transacted during the day in the sitting of the
Parliament. Colbert approached one of the lamps, read the letters
of the deceased Cardinal over again, smiled repeatedly as he
recognised the great value of the papers Madame de Chevreuse had
just delivered to him and, burying his head in his hands for a few
minutes, reflected profoundly. In the meantime, a tall, large-made
man entered the room; his spare thin face, steady look, and hooked
nose, as he entered Colbert’s cabinet, with a modest assurance of
manner, revealed a character at once supple and decided,—supple
towards the master who could throw him the prey, firm towards the
dogs who might possibly be disposed to dispute it with him. M.
Vanel carried a voluminous bundle of papers under his arm, and
placed it on the desk on which Colbert was leaning both his elbows,
as he supported his head.
“Good-day, M. Vanel,” said the latter, rousing
himself from his meditation.
“Good-day, monseigneur,” said Vanel
naturally.
“You should say monsieur, and not monseigneur,”
replied Colbert gently.
“We give the title of monseigneur to ministers,”
returned Vanel, with extreme self-possession, “and you are a
minister.”
“Not yet.”
“You are so in point of fact, and I call you
monseigneur accordingly; besides, you are my seigneur for me, and
that is sufficient; if you dislike my calling you monseigneur
before others, allow me, at least, to call you so in
private.”
Colbert raised his head as if to read, or to try to
read, upon Vanel’s face how much actual sincerity entered into this
protestation of devotion. But the counsellor knew perfectly well
how to sustain the weight of his look, even were it armed with the
full authority of the title he had conferred. Colbert sighed; he
could not read anything in Vanel’s face, and Vanel might possibly
be honest in his professions, but Colbert recollected that this
man, inferior to himself in every other respect, was actually his
superior through the fact of his having a wife unfaithful to him.
At the moment he was pitying this man’s lot, Vanel coldly drew from
his pocket a perfumed letter, sealed with Spanish wax, and held it
towards Colbert, saying, “A letter from my wife,
monseigneur.”
Colbert coughed, took, opened, and read the letter,
and then put it carefully away in his pocket, while Vanel turned
over the leaves of the papers he had brought with him with an
unmoved and unconcerned air. “Vanel,” he said suddenly to his
protégé, “you are a hard-working man, I know; would twelve hours’
daily labour frighten you?”
“I work fifteen hours every day.”
“Impossible. A counsellor need not work more than
three hours a day in Parliament.”
“Oh! I am working up some returns for a friend of
mine in the department of accounts, and, as I still have time left
on my hands, I am studying Hebrew.”
“Your reputation stands high in the Parliament,
Vanel.”
“I believe so, monseigneur.”
“You must not grow rusty in your post of
counsellor.”
“What must I do to avoid it?”
“Purchase a high place. Mean and low ambitions are
very difficult to satisfy.”
“Small purses are the most difficult to fill,
monseigneur.”
“What post have you in view?” said Colbert.
“I see none—not one.”
“There is one, certainly, but one need be almost
the King himself to be able to buy it without inconvenience; and
the King will not be inclined, I suppose, to purchase the post of
Procureur-Général.”
At these words, Vanel fixed his at once humble and
dull look upon Colbert, who could hardly tell whether Vanel had
comprehended him or not. “Why do you speak to me, monseigneur,”
said Vanel, “of the post of Procureur-Général to the Parliament; I
know no other post then the one M. Fouquet fills.”
“Exactly so, my dear counsellor.”
“You are not over fastidious, monseigneur; but
before the post can be bought, it must be offered for sale.”
“I believe, Monsieur Vanel, that it will be for
sale before long.”
“For sale! What, M. Fouquet’s post of
Procureur-Général?”
“So it is said.”
“The post which renders him so perfectly
inviolable, for sale! Oh! oh!” said Vanel, beginning to
laugh.
“Would you be afraid, then, of the post?” said
Colbert gravely.
“Afraid! no, but—”
“Nor desirous of obtaining it?”
“You are laughing at me, monseigneur,” replied
Vanel; “is it likely that a counsellor of the Parliament would not
be desirous of becoming Procureur-Général?”
“Well, Monsieur Vanel, since I tell you that the
post, as report goes, will be shortly for sale—”
“I cannot help repeating, monseigneur, that it is
impossible; a man never throws away the buckler, behind which he
maintains his honour, his fortune, his very life.”
“There are certain men mad enough, Vanel, to fancy
themselves out of the reach of all mischances.”
“Yes, monseigneur; but such men never commit their
mad acts for the advantage of the poor Vanels of the world.”
“Why not?”
“For the very reason that those Vanels are
poor.”
“It is true that M. Fouquet’s post might cost a
good round sum. What would you bid for it, Monsieur Vanel?”
“Everything I am worth.”
“Which means?”
“Three or four hundred thousand francs.”
“And the post is worth—”
“A million and a half at the very lowest. I know
persons who have offered one million seven hundred thousand francs,
without being able to persuade M. Fouquet to sell. Besides,
supposing it were to happen that M. Fouquet wished to sell, which I
do not believe, in spite of what I have been told—”
“Ah! you have heard something about it, then; who
told you?”
“M. de Gourville, M. Pélisson, and others.”
“Very good; if, therefore, M. Fouquet did wish to
sell—”
“I could not buy it just yet, since the
Surintendant will only sell for ready money, and no one has a
million and a half to throw down at once.”
Colbert suddenly interrupted the counsellor by an
imperious gesture; he had begun to meditate. Observing his
superior’s serious attitude, and his perseverance in continuing the
conversation on this subject, Vanel awaited the solution without
venturing to precipitate it. “Explain fully to me the privileges
which this post confers.”
“The right of impeaching every French subject who
is not a prince of the blood; the right of quashing all proceedings
taken against any Frenchman, who is neither king nor prince. The
Procureur-Général is the King’s right hand to punish the guilty; he
is the means whereby also he can evade the administration of
justice. M. Fouquet, therefore, will be able, by stirring up the
Parliaments, to maintain himself even against the King; and the
King could as easily, by humouring M. Fouquet, get his edicts
registered in spite of every opposition and objection. The
Procureur-Généralship can be made a very useful or very dangerous
instrument.” “Vanel, would you like to be Procureur-Général?” said
Colbert suddenly, softening both his look and his voice.
“I!” exclaimed the latter; “I have already had the
honour to represent to you that I want about eleven hundred
thousand francs to make up the amount.”
“Borrow that sum from your friends.”
“I have no friends richer than myself.”
“You are an honest and honourable man,
Vanel.”
“Ah! monseigneur, if the world were to think as you
do!”
“I think so, and that is quite enough; and if it
should be needed, I will be your security.”
“Do not forget the proverb, monseigneur.”
“What is that?”
“That he who becomes responsible for another, has
to pay for his responsibility.”
“Let that make no difference.”
Vanel rose, quite bewildered by this offer which
had been so suddenly and unexpectedly made to him. “You are not
trifling with me, monseigneur?” he said.
“Stay; you say that M. Gourville has spoken to you
about M. Fouquet’s post.”
“Yes; and M. Pélisson also.”
“Officially so, or only by their own
suggestion?”
“These were their very words: ‘These Parliamentary
people are as proud as they are wealthy; they ought to club
together two or three millions among themselves, to present to
their protector and great luminary, M. Fouquet.’ ”
“And what did you reply?”
“I said that, for my own part, I would give ten
thousand francs if necessary.”
“Ah! you like M. Fouquet, then?” exclaimed Colbert,
with a look full of hatred.
“No; but M. Fouquet is our chief. He is in debt—is
on the high road to ruin; and we ought to save the honour of the
body of which we are members.”
“Exactly; and that explains why M. Fouquet will be
always safe and sound so long as he occupies his present post,”
replied Colbert.
“Thereupon,” said Vanel, “M. Gourville added, ‘If
we were to do anything out of charity to M. Fouquet, it could not
be otherwise than most humiliating to him; and he would be sure to
refuse it. Let the Parliament subscribe among themselves to
purchase, in a proper manner, the post of Procureur-Général; in
that case, all would go on well, the honour of our body would be
saved, and M. Fouquet’s pride spared.’ ”
“That is an opening.”
“I considered it so, monseigneur.”
“Well, Monsieur Vanel, you will go at once, and
find out either M. Gourville or M. Pélisson. Do you know any other
friend of M. Fouquet?”
“I know M. de la Fontaine very well.”
“La Fontaine, the rhymester?”
“Yes; he used to write verses to my wife, when M.
Fouquet was one of our friends.”
“Go to him, then, and try to procure an interview
with the Surintendant.”
“Willingly—but the sum itself?”
“On the day and the hour you arrange to settle the
matter, Monsieur Vanel, you shall be supplied with the money; so,
do not make yourself uneasy on that account.”
“Monseigneur, such munificence! You eclipse kings
even—you surpass M. Fouquet himself.”
“Stay a moment—do not let us mistake each other. I
do not make you a present of fourteen hundred thousand francs,
Monsieur Vanel; for I have children to provide for—but I will lend
you that sum.”
“Ask whatever interest, whatever security you
please, monseigneur; I am quite ready. And when all your
requisitions are satisfied, I will still repeat, that you surpass
kings and M. Fouquet in munificence. What conditions do you
impose?”
“The repayment in eight years, and a mortgage upon
the appointment itself.”
“Certainly. Is that all?”
“Wait a moment. I reserve to myself the right of
repurchasing the post from you at one hundred and fifty thousand
francs profit for yourself, if, in your mode of filling the office,
you do not follow out a line of conduct in conformity with the
interests of the King and with my projects.”
“Ah! ah!” said Vanel, in a slightly altered
tone.
“Is there anything in that which can possibly be
objectionable to you, Monsieur Vanel?” said Colbert coldly.
“Oh! no, no,” replied Vanel quickly.
“Very good. We will sign an agreement to that
effect, whenever you like. And now, go as quickly as you can to M.
Fouquet’s friends, obtain an interview with the Surintendant; do
not be too difficult in making whatever concessions may be required
of you; and when once the arrangements are all made—”
“I will press him to sign.” “Be most careful to do
nothing of the kind; do not speak of signatures with M. Fouquet,
nor of deeds, nor even ask him to pass his word. Understand this,
otherwise you will lose everything. All you have to do is to get M.
Fouquet to give you his hand on the matter. Go, go.”