In November, 1664, Fouquet was brought before a commission of twenty-two judges, selected from the different Parliaments of the kingdom.  After protesting against the jurisdiction of the court, he took his seat upon the sellette, although a chair had been prepared for him beside it.  The interrogatories commenced.  There were two principal charges against him.  First, diversion of the public funds to his own use,—­embezzlement or defalcation we should call it.  Proof:  his great expenditure, too large for any private fortune.  Answer:  that his expenses were within the income he derived from his salaries, pensions, 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.