ions, and the property of
himself and wife. He was questioned closely upon his administration of
the finances. He was invariably self-possessed and ready with an answer,
and he eluded satisfactorily every attempt of the judges to entrap him,
although, as one of his best friends confessed, "some places were very
slippery." The second charge, treason against the State, was based upon
a paper addressed to his wife, and found in his desk. Fifteen years
before, after a quarrel with Mazarin, he had drawn up a plan of the
measures to be taken by his family and adherents in case of an attack
upon his life or liberty. It was a mere rough draught, incomplete, which
had remained unburned because forgotten. The fortifications of Belleile
and the number of his retainers were brought up as evidence of his
intention to carry out the "_projet_," as it was called, if it became
necessary. Fouquet's explanations, and the date of the paper, were
satisfactory to the majority of the Commission. At last even the
Chancellor admitted that the proof was insufficient to sustain this part
of the accusation. Fouquet's answer to Seguier, during the examination
on the "_projet_," was much admired, and repeated out-of-doors. Seguier
asserted more than once, "This is clearly treason." "No," retorted
Fouquet, "it is not treason; but I will tell you what is treason. To
hold high office, to be in the confidence of the King; then suddenly to
desert to the enemies of that King, to carry over relatives, with the
regiments and the fortresses under their command, and to betray the
secrets of State: that is treason." And that was exactly what Chancellor
Seguier had done in the Fronde.

In French criminal jurisprudence, the theory seems to be that the
accused is guilty until he has proved his innocence, and those
conversant with French trials need not be told that the judges assist
the public prosecutor. In this case, they sought by cross-examinations
to confuse Fouquet, and to entrap him into dangerous admissions. Seguier
sternly repressed any leanings in his favor; he even reproved some of
the judges for returning the salutation of the prisoner, as he entered
the court-room.

The trial lasted five weeks. All Paris looked on absorbed, as at a drama
of the most exciting interest. Fouquet never appeared so admirable as
then, at bay, firmly facing king, ministers, judges, eager for his
blood, excited by the ardor of pursuit, and embittered by the roar of
applaus