Memoirs of Thiebault #20 - Paul the errand boy

     The more tearful the departure is, the more we welcome the occupations and concerns it generates. It seemed to me as though everyone had conspired to burden me with errands; my carriage was loaded with packages, some of which contained large sums of money. I also carried a necklace made of three rows of virgin pearls, which General Vignolle told me to give Mme Murat. Obviously, I gave no receipts for all of these valuables, for I did not want my deference to trap me into a potentially ruinous responsibility. I had to cross Piedmont, through roads that were so unsafe that every week brought the news of a coach being arrested by brigands; nonetheless, I would carry everything, and as a complement to all the precious deposits I was entrusted with, I travelled with General Poinsot’s wife; her husband had asked me to watch over her until Lyons, and since he was the commander of Alexandria, I had to go through that city, where I spent my first night after that detour.

     After twenty-four hours without sleep, with my head hurting from the heat and all the tears I had shed, I washed myself, looking for refreshment, and in a moment of unbelievable distraction, I took off a ring that had slipped from Pauline’s finger to mine in Naples, and dropped it in my basin. Well, when I wanted to change the water, I emptied the basin through the window, and just as the water flowed out, I heard a small clinking; that noise startled me and immediately reminded me of my ring, which I had just thrown along with the water. I ran to the window and saw a field covered in high grass; I had to painfully open an old rusty door to access this terrain. I carefully walked towards the wet spot: the grass was taller than I was, and my first attempt only convinced me that it would be useless to look further. At last, the promise of one louis determined two men to uproot every plant around the spot where the water had fallen, cleaning up the terrain as they went; thus three hours were spent to recover this token of love, which I took with the same reverence as though it were a talisman to everything precious and dear in the world.

     General Poinsot was incredibly bold, good natured but common in his tone and manners, and far from being dimwitted. Several things he said struck me at the time; but with my mind overtaken by the painful obsession which I neither could nor wanted to defeat, I only remember one. As I manifested my surprise that he could send his wife back to France without anything forcing him to, this was his answer:

     “When I receive my orders to march, I buy an estate which my campaign will pay for. As soon as the conquest has started, I get myself into a calmer command, and once we have some peace, I send for my wife; then, once I have earned enough to pay for my mortgage, Mme Poinsot leaves to bring the payment herself, acquiring the estate and sometimes enlarging it.”

     It was absolutely clear, and I congratulated him or a situation I would normally have felt sorry for.

     On the next day, at dawn, I left again with Mme Poinsot, my aide-de-camp Richebourg, my valet, this Jacques Dewint who served me so devotedly until 1814, and twenty-two heavy cavalrymen, led by a sergeant. Mme Poinsot and I took place in my carriage, while Richebourg and Jacques sat on the outer bench.

     Mme Poinsot was quite young, plump, cheerful and overall a pleasant travelling companion; but her many qualities, which I would have greatly enjoyed in other times, turned her company into a torture. Regrets and memories always brought my thoughts back to Pauline, and a tête-à-tête with another woman was unbearable to me. In order to avoid any embarrassment, I pretended I had a blinding headache and simulated a sort of drowsiness that should be both the consequence and the proof of it. However, there was one good aspect to my mission of watching over Mme Poinsot, it was the escort, which protected both the lady and my packages. This escort should have only left us at Novalese; but it slowed down our march, and we were still one league away from Turin when night fell. I was sound asleep; a scream awoke us. We were shot at, and Richebourg and Jacques grabbed their pistols to answer in kind. In that moment of surprise, I first thought about Mme Murat’s necklace; it was inside a portfolio placed next to me; I took it and put it around my neck; then I grabbed my pistols, and since the carriage had stopped, I was ready to jump out of it, when suddenly, the sergeant, who had remained far behind, arrived at full speed with his twenty-two men. This unexpected apparition changed the scene; our attackers took flight; fortunately, only one of our carriage horses was wounded: we could immediately go ahead on our way, and this adventure had no consequences besides the fact that I had to declare it to the commander of Turin. On the next day, we crossed the Mont Cenis, then, without a halt, we went to Lyons, where I left Mme Poinsot and rode day and night to Paris; I was in a hurry to arrive, for it was only there that I could receive news from Pauline, to whom I had written letters from Alexandria, Turin and Lyons.

     The bells sounded ten in the evening when I crossed the d’Enfer barrier, and fifteen minutes later, I was at my father’s house. Despite the late hour, there were things which I could not wait to discuss. As it happened, my father had seen General Masséna immediately after the latter’s arrival in Paris, and amidst his astonishment at the general’s quick wit, he had understood from the first words they exchanged that the general wanted to see my Journal du blocus de Gênes published as soon as possible, and he had offered to have it printed. General Masséna welcomed this proposal, my father had hastened the publishing process as fast as he could, and the work was released eight days before I arrived; the general had sent me fifty copies of it. Time flew fast as we spoke of these family and business matters; it was well over midnight when I went to bed. On the next day, I was still sound asleep at nine, and I was woken up by a courier sent by Mme Murat’s secretary. Mme Murat wanted to know whether I had arrived, and if so, whether I carried her pearl necklace; I handed it to her two hours later, adding: “You will not be the first one to wear it”, which led me to relate the unpleasant encounter during which I had put it around my own neck.

     I had lunch with General Murat and his wife, who then lived in the mansion located north of the Tuileries’ courtyard. The future King and Queen of Naples were spontaneous and down-to-earth; and indeed, if it is true that happiness makes people more open and sociable, could there be a more affable couple than them?

     In their position, which was all the more elevated when put in contrast with the ones they were born in, now that they walked the path to human prosperity as relatives of the greatest man of the modern era, could they have asked for more? Not only that, but they were both still young; she was beautiful like an angel, while he stood tall and proud with his handsome face and coal-black mane; and as my eyes always came back, almost against my will, to these two persons favoured by nature and fate, I appreciated their perfect good-heartedness all the more. After an excellent lunch that was served in fine porcelain, we were brought a crude sandstone jar containing grape jelly.

     “It’s a treat from my home country,” Murat announced¹; “my mother made it and sent it to me.”

     I praised the feelings behind his words, and this made the jelly somewhat more palatable; but obviously he did not offer it to his guests for much longer, and soon, this childhood taste would disappear altogether, along with any remnants of the envy he had felt towards me at the Marly camp.

     Just as we were about to exit the dining room, Isabey brought a miniature portrait of the newborn Achille Murat; the copy was deemed worthy of the original, who had come into the world as the complement to so much prosperity.