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Brun de Villeret about Marshal Victor
Claude-Victor Perrin aka Marshal Victor is one of the marshals I know the least about. So I was quite happy to find Soult’s aide de camp Brun de Villeret wrote a bit about him in his Cahiers. As this journal was never intended for publication, it’s likely to contain Brun’s honest (if possibly exaggerated) opinion.
Victor was, together with Mortier, one of the marshals who found themselves under the superior command of one marshal Soult during their sojourn in Spain (and didn’t like it one bit). Victor specifically was tasked with the siege of Cadix. When Napoleon sent Masséna into Portugal in the third and last attempt to occupy the country, he demanded Soult come to his support. Soult decided to besiege the fort of Badajoz together with Mortier and for that purpose had to take a larger number of troops from Andalusia into Estremadura, stretching himself dangerously thin. The Spanish troops in Cadix used that opportunity to attack Victor’s siege forces and even had some small successes before being driven back into Cadix. As Brun puts it:
[...] Some of our redoubts had been taken and demolished. The damage was easily repaired, however, and the Duke of Bellune could only congratulate himself on his victory and the way he had conducted his business.
Unfortunately, the gloomy mood which dominated him and still dominates him in all the circumstances of life, led him to believe that the Duke of Dalmatia had wanted to sacrifice him, by weakening the forces he had in Andalusia and taking the Duke of Treviso to Estremadura. He wrote him bitter and reproachful letters. As I was on fairly intimate terms with him, given that my brother was one of his aides-de-camp and had his confidence, the Duke of Dalmatia thought it appropriate to send me to him as a mediator, with the mission of trying to soothe his bad mood.
I see. The Brun brothers. Unofficial psychotherapists of the Armée de Midi.
I found him furious. He had retired to bed and received me while in bed. For two hours, his ravings were so violent that it was impossible for me to reach the end of a sentence. Finally, exhausted from shouting, he allowed me to speak.
Brun: Can I say something now?
Victor [sheepish]: Yes. I am hoarse and my throat hurts.
I managed to make him understand that with his talents, his reputation and three divisions as fine as his own, he should not be surprised that the Duke of Dalmatia had counted on him to defend his lines and cover the south of Andalusia.
"You have," I finally said, "responded perfectly to this hope and added a fine jewel to your military crown. For our part, we have obtained great results [...] In short, since success has crowned your defence as well as our undertaking, you would be doing yourself a disservice in the eyes of the Emperor if you were to cast a negative light on what has been achieved."
While I was speaking, his face had become serious, and he had resumed that air of benevolence he had always treated me with, when I did not have to address him on his relations with the Duke of Dalmatia. He even showed me the most delicate attentions and sent me away very satisfied with the result of my mission, and bearing answers written in a perfectly moderate style. I knew how to deal with him, and the Duke of Dalmatia knew it too: let him exhaust his ire and his verve. Afterwards, he would listen to reason. Also, during my stay in Spain, I had the opportunity to carry out several missions of the same kind.
One of them apparently included Victor shouting to Brun for another hour about how Soult never sent him enough food and how he was about to starve with his troops, before Brun finally could present him all certificates of receipt for Victor’s corps, proofing that the food Victor claimed was missing had very well arrived, and announce that Soult, nevertheless, had sent off some more boats with food for Victor’s corps. As Brun remarks at this occasion, Victor was "a better warrior than a good administrator".
But my favourite part about the scene Brun describes is that Victor apparently, all the time while he was raging to Brun about Soult’s injustice, was lying in bed. So he was like, yelling at the ceiling, his head in the pillows? Did he also wear a night gown and a sleeping cap?
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Saint Peter of Alcantara
1499-1562
Feast Day: October 19
Patronage: night watchmen, Eucharistic adoration, Brazil, Estremadura Spain
Saint Peter of Alcantara was a Spanish Franciscan friar of noble birth. He was friends of many 16th century saints including St Teresa of Avila who he was her confessor. Peter was a priest, mystic, writer, preacher, and provincial of the Observant Franciscans. He worked towards church reform, starting with himself, practicing severe penances and patience. At times he only ate once in 3 days and sleeping 90 min. a night. He started the Alcantarine reforms, which followed a stricter order of the rule of St. Francis. He died while praying on his knees.
Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)
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Elsewhere
The delectable names of harsh places:
Cilicia Aspera, Estremadura.
In that smooth wave of cello-sound, Mojave,
We hear no ill of brittle parch and glare.
So late October's pasture-fringe,
With aster-blur and ferns of toasted gold,
Invites to barrens where the crop to come
Is stone prized upward by the deepening freeze.
Speechless and cold the stars arise
On the small garden where we have dominion.
Yet in three tongues we speak of Taurus' name
And of Aldebaran and the Hyades,
Recalling what at best we know,
That there is beauty bleak and far from ours,
Great reaches where the Lord's delighting mind,
Though not inhuman, ponders other things.
By Richard Wilbur
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