That morning the news of the cardinal’s death spread throughout the château, and from the château to the city. The ministers Fouquet, Lyonne, and Le Tellier went to the King’s Council chamber for a meeting; the king, hearing of it, sent for them immediately. “Messieurs,” he said, “while Monsieur le Cardinal lived, I allowed him to govern my affairs, but now I intend to govern them myself. You will give me your opinion when I ask you for it. Now go!”
The ministers looked at each other in surprise. If they managed not to openly smile it was with great effort, for they knew that the prince, raised in absolute ignorance of affairs, had taken on, out of pride, a burden far beyond his abilities.
Fouquet took leave of his colleagues on the staircase, saying, “So much the less work for us, Messieurs.” And he went cheerfully to his carriage. The other two, rather anxious about this turn of events, returned together to Paris.
The king, around ten o’clock, went to visit his mother, with whom he had a long conversation, and then, after the midday meal, he called for a closed carriage and went straight to the Louvre. There he received a great many people, taking a certain pleasure in their curiosity and hesitation.
Toward evening, he ordered the gates of the Louvre to be closed, all but one that opened onto the river quay. He sent as sentries to this gate two of the Hundred Swiss who didn’t speak a word of French, with orders to admit all bearers of deliveries but no one else, and then to let no one leave. At eleven exactly he heard the rumbling of a heavy wagon outside the river gate, then another, and finally a third, and then the gate squealed on its hinges as it closed. Shortly thereafter someone scratched at the door123 to his study; the king opened it himself to find Colbert, whose first words were, “The money is in Your Majesty’s cellars.”
Louis then went down personally to see for himself the barrels of coins, gold, and silver, that, under the eye of Colbert, four men had just rolled down into a vault the key to which the king had given Colbert that morning. His inspection completed, the king returned to his rooms, followed by Colbert, whose chilly demeanor seemed not the least bit warmed by the satisfaction of this personal success.
“Monsieur,” said the king, “what would you desire as your reward for this devotion and integrity?”
“Absolutely nothing, Sire.”
“What, nothing? Not even the opportunity to serve me?”
“If Your Majesty doesn’t give me an opportunity, I will serve him nonetheless. It’s impossible for me not to serve the king as well as I’m able.”
“You will be my Intendant des Finances, Monsieur Colbert.”
“But isn’t there a superintendent, Sire?”
“Indeed.”
“Sire, the Surintendant des Finances is the most powerful man in the realm.”
“Oh?” exclaimed Louis, flushing. “Is that what you think?”
“I won’t last a week under him, Sire, unless Your Majesty gives me independent authority. An intendant under a superintendent has none.”
“You don’t think you could depend upon me?”
“As I had the honor to tell Your Majesty, while Monsieur Mazarin was alive, Monsieur Fouquet was the second man in the kingdom; now that Monsieur Mazarin is dead, he’s the first.”
“Monsieur, I’m willing to tolerate hearing you say such things to me today, but tomorrow, believe me, I won’t put up with it.”
“Then I shall be of no use to Your Majesty?”
“You’re already useless, since you’re afraid to compromise yourself by serving me.”
“The only thing I fear is not having the means to serve.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I want Your Majesty to give me some assistants to serve in his intendancy.”
“Won’t that diminish your position?”
“It will add to its security.”
“Name your colleagues.”
“Messieurs Breteuil, Marin, and Hervard.”
“They’ll be in place tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sire!”
“Is that all you need?”
“No, Sire, one thing more…”
“What’s that?”
“Allow me to empanel a Court of Justice.”
“A Court of Justice? To do what?”
“To try the corrupt tax-farmers and debt collectors who’ve been cheating the treasury for the past ten years.”
“But… what will we do to them?”
“We’ll hang two or three of them, which will make the rest come clean.”
“But I can’t begin my reign with a spate of executions, Monsieur Colbert.”
“On the contrary, Sire, better to begin with a few executions than to end in mass upheaval.”
The king said nothing to this.
“Does Your Majesty agree?” said Colbert.
“I’ll think about it, Monsieur.”
“A delay to think about it will render it too late.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re dealing with men whose positions, given time to reinforce them, are stronger than ours.”
“Empanel your Court of Justice, Monsieur.”
“I shall do so.”
“Is that all?”
“No, Sire, there’s one more important thing. What authority does Your Majesty give to this intendancy?”
“Well, I don’t know… the usual authority, I suppose.”
“Sire, I need this intendancy to include the right to read any correspondence with England.”
“Impossible, Monsieur—that correspondence isn’t even shared with the King’s Council. Monsieur le Cardinal handled it personally.”
“I thought Your Majesty had declared this morning that he would handle such affairs without the council.”
“Yes, I did declare that.”
“Then let Your Majesty himself be the only one to read such correspondence, particularly from England; I must emphasize the importance of this.”
“Monsieur, you shall handle that particular correspondence, and give me a full account of it.”
“Now, Sire, what shall I do regarding the finances?”
“Everything that Monsieur Fouquet doesn’t do.”
“Then that’s all I need from Your Majesty. Thank you, that puts my mind at ease.” And with these words, he took his leave.
Louis watched him go. Colbert wasn’t a hundred paces from the Louvre when the king received a courier from England. After a quick look at the envelope the king opened it and found within a letter from King Charles II. Here’s what the English prince wrote to his royal brother:
Your Majesty must be very anxious about the illness of Monsieur le Cardinal Mazarin, but this imminent danger must serve to inspire you, as the cardinal is given up for dead by his own physician. I thank you for your gracious reply to my communication regarding Lady Henrietta Stuart, my sister, and in a week the princess will leave for Paris with her court.
It warms my heart to acknowledge the fraternal friendship which you’ve shown me, and which makes you all the more my brother. And it’s good, moreover, to prove to Your Majesty just how warm my feelings are. You are quietly fortifying Belle-Île-en Mer.124 This is a mistake; we will never make war on one another. This measure doesn’t upset me, it just makes me sad. You are spending millions there uselessly and can tell your ministers as much. As you can see, my intelligencers are well informed, and I hope, my brother, that you can render me a similar service if the chance arises.
The king tugged violently on his bell pull, and his valet de chambre appeared. “Monsieur Colbert just left and can’t have gone far,” he cried. “Call him back!”
The valet was about to follow this order when the king stopped him. “No, never mind,” he said, and then continued to himself, “I see what Colbert was up to. Belle-Île belongs to Monsieur Fouquet, and fortification of it implicates Fouquet in conspiracy. Discovery of this conspiracy is the ruin of the superintendent, its discovery would be reported in correspondence from England, and that’s why Colbert wanted to handle that correspondence. But, oh! I can’t rely solely on this man—he’s a brain, but I also need brawn.”
Louis paused, then gave a cry of satisfaction. He said to the valet, “Didn’t I have a Lieutenant of Musketeers?”
“Yes, Sire, Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“Who recently left my service?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Find him for me, and make sure he’s here for tomorrow morning’s lever.”
The valet bowed and went out.
“Thirteen million in my cellar,” the king said, “Colbert holding my purse and d’Artagnan wielding my sword: I am king!”
The End
~ The story continues in Book Six of the Musketeers Cycle,
Court of Daggers ~