What Became of the White Savage (36 page)

BOOK: What Became of the White Savage
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5. To Monsieur Narcisse Pelletier, storekeeper at the Baleines Lighthouse on the Île de Ré (Lower Charentes) the sum of eight hundred francs. The sum to be placed in the charge of the master of the said lighthouse, for him to disburse to the interested party in the form of an allowance in such increments as he sees fit, taking into consideration Monsieur Pelletier’s needs and his other sources of income.

Should Monsieur Pelletier predecease me, and should he leave heirs, the remaining sum shall be distributed in equal parts between his children upon their reaching the age of majority.

6. To Charles-Louis and Eugénie-Charlotte Pelletier, the sum of two thousand five hundred francs. This sum shall be disbursed annually in tenth parts to Mr. Wilton-Smith, merchant of Sydney (Australia) for him to finance expeditions in search of the said Charles-Louis and Eugénie-Charlotte Pelletier, and if necessary to repatriate them to France. Mr. Wilton-Smith shall be required to present an annual accounting of the manner in which the funds have been used.

If the allotted sum is not spent in its entirety (as a result of the death of Mr. Wilton-Smith or in the event of his declining to undertake the said expeditions, or for any other reason) the remaining funds shall be apportioned as in 5.

Once the children have been found, the remaining funds shall be placed in the charge of my brother, Louis de Vallombrun, for him to provide for the needs and education of these children until the age of their majority. The remaining capital shall be used in one half to establish Charles-Louis in a profession of his choice, and the remaining half to provide a dowry for Eugénie-Charlotte.

7. To the Geographical Society of Paris, the sum of two thousand and two hundred francs for the Society to undertake and finance within ten years one or several exploratory expeditions in north-east Australia, within the area outlined in the attached map. As an absolute condition of this bequest, the reports written by leaders of the expeditions shall be published either as articles in the Geographical Review or in book form, according to their length.

8. To Mr. Wilton-Smith, merchant of Sydney (Australia), the portrait of me that hangs in the library, unless my sister Charlotte exercises her right of option on this item at the time of the reading of the will. The portrait was painted by Aristide Verne, an associate member of the Geographical Society, in the spring of this year and shows me in three quarters bust, holding in one hand, a six-holed native flute, in a rocky landscape of red tones evocative of Australia.

The rest of my movable and immovable property shall be divided in equal parts between my brother Louis and my sister Charlotte, who are equally dear to my heart.

However, the Château de Vallombrun, with all the land and furnishings at the time of my death, shall fall to Charlotte’s share. The same shall apply to the ring which I had the honour of receiving from the hands of Her Majesty. If as a result of this Charlotte’s share should be greater that Louis’, so be it. No compensation shall be due.

Finally, I wish my tomb to be inscribed with the dates that mark the boundaries of my life and the single line: “Octave de Vallombrun, traveller”.

May God have mercy on my soul.

Written and signed at the Château de Vallombrun on this day, 22nd February 1864.

Octave de Vallombrun
(Countersigned by Messieurs Pouillier and Dufourg)

My brother, the Viscount Louis, who is in full agreement with me on every point in this letter, is as surprised as I by these terms.

In particular, points 5 and 6, concerning Monsieur Pelletier and the search for his hypothetical children, at considerable expense, are entirely unreasonable.

My late brother showed great generosity of spirit in taking in this fellow and bringing him back to France. As if this fine gesture did not in itself suffice, he then obtained by imperial favour a position for Pelletier in government employment. This was admittedly a modest position, but nevertheless one that far exceeded the candidate’s qualifications. Having thus assured Pelletier’s future, my brother then proceeded to finance, entirely at his own expense and at extraordinary cost, four expeditions to Australia, which were by any account a wasted investment.

Pelletier spent almost one month in Vallombrun at the end of 1861. This sailor’s countenance bespeaks a lack of intelligence; he utters few words and has nothing to say. Degenerate by nature, he takes for granted all that is done for him, shows no gratitude whatsoever and seems not to know his place. One cannot but ask oneself if he is simple-minded. Or was he playing the fool in order to exploit Octave’s excessive generosity? I would prefer to believe this man to be simple-minded and naïve rather than calculating, but I have alas several times had the occasion to observe his surly and manipulative character.

My late brother’s patience and generosity may not have been exhausted, but I have certainly been driven beyond the limits of forbearance, as has the Viscount Louis. The vain efforts and fruitless waste that ensued from Octave’s benign whims cannot be allowed to continue beyond his lifetime. Must I add that my late brother’s kindness towards this man gave rise to the most scurrilous of rumours with regard to the nature of the interest he showed in the sailor. Not only has Pelletier compromised my brother’s fortune, he has also besmirched his reputation.

It is therefore our intention to contest this will and render it null and void. We shall cite our late brother’s occasionally excitable and fanciful temperament, and we are confident as to the outcome. The matter is in the hands of the lawyer and we shall proceed in accordance with his advice. However, nothing would be more distressing – or indeed more contrary to my late brother’s wishes – than to find ourselves before the bench in confrontation with you. At the sound of the clerk of the court calling the affair of “the Vallombrun heirs versus the Geographical Society”, Octave’s eternal slumber would surely be wretchedly disturbed.

For this reason we feel it is preferable to approach you for a settlement. As you will have gathered, you are prevented from enjoying the full benefit of my late brother’s legacy to you by the condition imposed in the will: the extravagant obligation to finance further expeditions to north-east Australia, expeditions that have already been undertaken in every direction on four occasions during Octave’s lifetime, and always in vain. Too much time, money and energy have been squandered heretofore. Furthermore, the obligation to publish the results, (or the absence thereof) can only serve to tarnish your Society’s image.

Octave was as if bewitched by this affair, but we could not tell him: our affection for him was too great. Alas, the time has now come to break the spell.

Not wishing to see our brother’s legacy dissipated in the financing of further absurd expeditions, we feel it is more salutary, and indeed more faithful to Octave’s memory, to make a payment to your Society. While the sum would be more modest than the amount stipulated in the will, it would come free of all conditions, for you to spend as you see fit: on expeditions to the pampas of Argentina or the steppes of Kamchatka perhaps? The acquisition of a collection of books? Repairs to your headquarters? Who better than you, Sir, to make such decisions?

We therefore wish to propose that you renounce my late brother’s bequest. Louis de Vallombrun and I would make a gift to the Geographical Society with no conditions, of a sum of five hundred francs, for example. These points would be agreed in the presence of a lawyer.

(May I take the liberty of adding not a condition, but a humble request? That Octave’s name should be inscribed on a plaque placed in a location of your choice within the walls of your headquarters. We would of course take full responsibility for all costs.)

We have presented this proposal to the other beneficiaries of the will: the curate of Vallombrun, the mayor, Monsieur Firmin Delessert and Madame Félicie Sorel, and they are in full agreement. I have exercised my right of option on the portrait of Octave. I should add that the witnesses to my brother’s handwritten will, Messieurs Pouillier and Dufourg, are prepared to testify to my late brother’s exaggeratedly fanciful state of mind when the will was written in February 1864, at the time of the first expedition.

If all parties are in agreement, Pelletier’s opposition would be the only obstacle to declaring the will null and void. I must tell you that he seems to have disappeared quite suddenly following his last conversation with my brother in La Rochelle. His inexplicable defection affected Octave profoundly. If Pelletier’s whereabouts remain unknown, the case against him will of course be greatly strengthened.

Must I also point out the will is dated February 1864, before Pelletier disappeared? How can one be sure that these would still have been Octave’s final wishes after Pelletier had acted in such a cavalier and unworthy fashion towards his protector? Had Octave lived a few more weeks, would he not have rescinded, with one furious and richly justified stroke of the pen, the benefits he intended to bestow on this ingrate?

These are all the reasons that have led us to propose this simple compromise, a solution that could be both rapidly executed and mutually advantageous. Our peace of mind depends on your response: a quick and successful case against Pelletier, or may God forbid, a long and painful legal action against your Society.

If I may once more presume upon your good will Sir, I would also like to mention Octave’s papers.

I have had the sad task of sorting and classifying these documents. While Octave was alive, I never set foot in his study. But he was meticulous, as I have always known, and I had no trouble making an inventory of the contents of the various drawers and cupboards.

I ask your opinion on a geographical matter and seek your opinion on two types of papers.

Firstly, there are three notebooks on Pelletier. The notebooks contain a daily record of my late brother’s singular encounters with him in Sydney in the gardens of the governor’s residence. The notebooks begin on the 1st March 1861 with the record of the initial encounters followed by notes on further meetings, and by my late brother’s personal musings. There is nothing definitive here, nothing that could be considered ready for publication: rather the notebooks form a diary, a record of Octave’s thoughts on the affair.

Secondly, there is a box bearing the inscription “ADMLG”. This title means nothing to me. Octave said nothing that might throw any light on this. Inside the boxes are twenty-five files, with the headings “Introduction I, II and III”, and “Volumes 1 to 22”. Each file contains three to ten pages. On each page are three, four or five lines of inscriptions, some with only one word, others with geometrical shapes, diamonds, stars and squares. His hand here is smaller. It is distended and unlike his usual hand. I find it quite impossible to decipher.

He had sometimes in the course of the last two or three years alluded to a great work in progress. His tone was ironic at first, but this became increasingly sardonic as he began to doubt his ability to complete the work. Because of one or two allusions he made, I understood his efforts to be in some way related to geography. Yet he said that he had distanced himself from your Society and from geography, a state of affairs which he manifestly regretted.

As you will have surmised, we have no use for either these notebooks or the box of jottings. The papers are carefully stored in the attic, and are entirely at your disposition, whatever may be your decision with regard to the will.

I am deeply grateful to you for your kind attention to our affairs and beg you to accept my humble thanks in memory of our beloved brother, Octave de Vallombrun.

My brother Louis sends you his respects.

I am your humble and most devoted servant,

Charlotte de Vallombrun

16

The rains have ceased. The land is carpeted with lush green grass, studded with white flowers. The colour of the trees has softened too, their green less metallic. A barely perceptible aroma of honey floats on the air.

For the thousandth time that day he waves his right arm to swat away the flies. And then, perhaps because of the look Waiakh gives him every time he does this, he sees the futility of the gesture. The flies will come back whatever he does, whether he swats them away or leaves them alone. Watching them as they buzz around and land on him again, he decides not to move, to resist the urge he’s been giving into, and just accept their presence. The flies roam about on his skin, take off, come back again. He no longer cares about them.

The hunters have done well, and everyone has been able to eat their fill, and more. In the evening, the men draw close to their wives, the young become amorous.

The children play and run around all over the place, teasing and taunting each other, tussling and fighting, breaking off without waiting to declare a winner. He doesn’t join in these activities, but he too feels lighter, tranquil almost.

They are camped at the foot of a small hill, and after the midday rest, he climbs to the top to make the most of the almost imperceptible breeze. Beneath him, the grey plane, dotted with clumps of trees, stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction.

Between two rocks, he spots an outcrop of yellow earth, rich and lumpy. He puts his finger in the earth and runs it over his thigh: a clean line appears, as if drawn with charcoal. An orange tinted line on his tanned skin.

He sits down and dips his finger again in the yellow earth. He traces a circle on his chest, beneath the right breast, then another on the left side. He dips his finger in again to draw a circle under his navel and one above it, and one more under his left shoulder. It gives him a subtle and indefinable pleasure to decorate himself like this, drawing whatever patterns take his fancy. Once more he takes some yellow earth on his finger and slowly traces a series of broken lines on his thighs. He looks at his arms and is pleased with the contrast between their unmarked skin and his painted legs and chest.

BOOK: What Became of the White Savage
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