#le maréchal victor: loyal sous napoléon fidèle sous le restauration (2006)

[impetuous-impulse]

Victor Meets Bonaparte, 1793

7 December, 1764 is Victor’s birthday. To be topical on the same day, let me detail the first meeting between Victor, then still using the name Claude Perrin, and the young artillery captain Napoleone Buonaparte at the Siege of Toulon. I will use the two Victor biographies I have access to: one by veternarian-turned-writer Jacques Le Costumier, the second by Jean-Pierre Tarin, who, in his avant-propos, accuses Le Costumier of publishing "a catalogue of errors" instead of a biography. The two authors illustrate the ways the same historical evidence can be spun in different ways to further different narratives about Victor and Bonaparte’s initial relationship. All translation errors are my own.

To set the scene, the man who would become Victor went to Toulon under the command of General Carteaux, where he was appointed adjutant-général chef de brigade (colonel) of a brigade of volunteers on 2 October 1793. Bonaparte, as I will call him for clarity, had been called to replace Carteaux’s commandant of artillery Dommartin on 7 September 1793, after the latter was shot in the shoulder and was unable to make his appointment to Toulon. General Doppet came to aid Carteaux after quelling resistance in Lyon, and Carteaux was replaced by General Dugommier on 16 November.

Here is how both biographies describe their meeting, with Tarin more extensively quoting Victor’s unpublished Memoires (1846):

Following his valourous conduct during the affair [a counter-attack at Arenes] on 30 November, Bonaparte was appointed adjutant-general [basically colonel]. "It was then that he became more particularly acquainted with Victor, whom Dugommier had brought from the left to the right of the Army. The Commander of artillery visited the quarters of the colonel of Volunteers every morning and took him to visit the batteries; relations of esteem and intimacy were promptly establisehd between them. In this moment perhaps, Bonaparte inscribed Victor among the number of Napoleon’s lieutenants, and perhaps Victor foresaw the conqueror he was to accompany, throughout all of Europe, on triumphant courses. Already, no doubt, he admired the surety of his certainty of his glance, the boldness of his plans, the promptness of its execution and the energy of his character.” (p. 34)

Le Costumier is eager to reinforce how dazzled Victor is by Bonaparte.

The Lorrainian historian Michel Caffier reproduces the remarks Victor would have made in Paris, two years later on Bonaparte. “What surprises me most about this man who entered the [military] career by his mathematical spirit is his appetite for reading. At Toulon, I saw him devour the works of Tacitus, [Michel de] Montaigne, Plato, Racine, and Livy which are not habitual companions of the bivouac. I was surprised by him. He replied to me: ‘I always find something to learn.’ Bonaparte for me, has a mind that thinks, and above all as we have seen in his reactions on the night of 12 Vendemaire, he has a mind that thinks fast. [...] His career will not end here. He knows how to command, to act. He also reflects and I saw him at Toulon writing a document for the Academy of Lyon on the verities and feelings that are most important to instill in men for their happiness.” (pp. 27-28)

Let us put aside the fact that the veracity of Victor’s statements, not to mention the later date at which he wrote them with how he uses “Bonaparte”, a spelling only used since 1796, instead of “Buonaparte”. Let us admire that Le Costumier has created a perfect picture of Victor being won over by Bonaparte during the Revolution. Tarin is not so sure, however:

Let us refrain from all abusive extrapolations: fraternity of arms, no doubt, esteem certainly, but as to intimacy… The general Doppet wrote in his memoirs about Bonaparte: “This young officer never left his batteries.” […] It was therefore at this moment that relations were established between Victor and Bonaparte which, “without having presented a great character of intimacy, nevertheless did not remain without influence on the state of the military career" of the Vosgien. (pp. 34)

Here’s the kicker: the first quote is from Doppet’s memoirs (he died in 1799, so there is no doubt they are contemporary). The second quote is from Biographies contemporaines, Vol. I by A. Boullée, published in 1863. Tarin uses these quotes combined to declare Victor and Bonaparte’s intimacy as only “plausible”. He also posits that rapport was borne of a similar career path, not of natural friendship, and that Victor was quite normal about Bonaparte:

Furthermore, the fact that both were artillerymen had obviously played a role, even if Victor did not have the same level of theoretical knowledge as Bonaparte; this is what we call espirit de corps. […] On this occasion, it seems fair to say that Victor admired Bonaparte’s qualities. He experienced what all his contemporaries recognised. (ibid.)

So, was Victor under Bonaparte’s spell from the start? Quite hard to tell, considering we only have Victor's memoirs as evidence. It is still highly interesting to read Victor's account of their meeting, considering he was one of few soldiers Napoleon had known since Toulon, aside from Junot and Marmont, that stayed under his influence until the Empire collapsed. And out of these three, two went over to the Bourbons at the first chance, while the other went mad in his devotion.

[impetuous-impulse]

Spain was, like it was for every Napoleonic general involved, a terrible time for Victor. Specifically, during the siege of Cadix/Cadíz, his biographer Tarin highlights that he suffered an attack of acute rheumatism in June 1810, early on in the siege. He wrote to King Joseph on the 11th to try and get a congé: "The unfortunate and painful state of my health forces me to take a step which costs me infinitely (...) in order to go and take the thermal waters"; "A most violent has taken hold of me, it takes away from me all the energy that is necessary and no longer permits me to fulfill all me duties." He later gave up sending the letter (164-165). He continued to suffer ill health for almost two years, and would only be granted permission to return to France on 11 December 1811, though he stuck to his post during Soult's expedition against Tarifa and actually left on 9 February 1812. For comparison, Mortier had already left in May 1811, also because of ill health (171-172). Tarin also mentions in the same chapter that Victor was not great at administrating his troops in Spain.

In any case, if Brun de Villeret was visiting any time after June 1810, perhaps Victor was not in bed because he liked lounging around (though this is also likely), but because he was sick. This situation would also make the sleepwear plausible. That said, from Brun's observations, his voice was completely fine!

If there was anything ongoing in Victor's personal life, it was securing the purchase of a larger residence befitting of a Duke and a Marshal of the Empire (his second wife would purchase the famous Château de Ménars for him in 1811—a definite display of vanity!). Incidentally, he had also picked up a mistress in Seville, who was married to a Spanish colonel... and who happened to be the older sister of Soult's mistress... and we know this because, during the evacuation of Seville in 1812, Captain Blaze witnessed both of them bundled up in a sumptous carriage pulled by "four beautiful horses" (Tarin 150-151). How this happened in the first place was a wonder considering what Victor and Soult's relations were like in Spain!

Also, though Victor was definitely quick to emotion, there were apparently occasions where he could be the opposite. During the Russian retreat, when Ney asked Victor for some of his troops and offered Victor the place of the rearguard, Victor refused both. Ségur records in his memoirs that,

In this altercation, the prince of the Moskowa lost his temper, it is said, with an excessive violence, by which Victor's coldness was hardly affected.

*Insert Germanic yelling on one side and Vosgien quips on the other, possibly comprehsible to both but not quite to everyone else.*

Thank you so much for translating Brun's Cahiers! It was really nice to learn more about Victor.

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?

[impetuous-impulse]

Ney’s Execution; Victor’s Remorse

If, in the year of 1815, all eyes are turned to Luxembourg, it is not to admire the Haute Chambre itself, but because a resounding event took place there: Ney first appeared before a council of war that declared itself incompetent; according to his own wishes, he is brought before the Chamber of Peers constituting a Court of Justice. A climate of revenge permeates royalist circles, excepting the King, a fine politician, who would have done without a lynching. His entourage, however, burns to make an example, a sort of expiatory sacrifice. On 4 December [1815], the Peers meet and debate for two days. The result is without appeal: one single Peer, the duke of Broglie, speaks with courage against the condemnation; five abstain; seventeen vote for deportation; a hundred and thirty eight vote for death. They considered themselves judges rather than jurors; they thus enforced the law. Victor voted with the majority, undoubtedly with a heavy heart; in any case in each of the two ballots, he voted for the death of his former companion-in-arms, as did Maison, former chief of staff of Victor and Ney’s companion-in-suffering in Russia. The King will not use his right of pardon and Ney will be shot on 7 December. It seems that Victor, throughout his life, will suffer from remorse of this decision [...]

Jean-Pierre Tarin, Le Maréchal Victor: loyal sous Napoléon, fidèle sous la Restauration, p. 280.

It is common knowledge in Napoleonic circles that Victor voted for Ney’s death, and the circulated claim that Victor regretted his choice for the rest of his life intrigued me as soon as I saw it. From where was it sourced and how valid was the source? The Tarin biography of Victor skims over Victor’s reaction to Ney’s fate (more emphasis was given to figures of the Restoration in the succeeding passages—men, money, dates). Worse, the account Tarin gives of the trial and execution does not seem to be sourced, as if a memory-based anecdote. Evidently, from Tarin’s perspective, Victor’s alleged “remorse” is unimportant to his life. I am sure many reading this would agree with Tarin—it would be more telling to act as one believes in the moment than to cry over spilt milk. Indeed, acting in the moment is what the Marshals are known for, and it's why We Don't Talk About Victor Marshals that fit the archetype are more likeable.

The Le Coustumier biography is sympathetic to Victor. It circulates the same claim with more detail, and fortunately, the source is mentioned (p. 284).

If we are to believe Count André Martinet in an article published in Janurary 1902 in Le Figaro, (as Martinet could consult the Bellune family archives and speak with [Victor’s] descendants,) the death of Ney tormented Victor’s conscience through his remaining life. He reports: “But there was a day in the year where the Duke of Bellune did not appear at the family table, where he refused to receive even the most intimate of his friends: 7 December, which witnessed Ney's execution.* (…) Why, he often said, did my poor comrade refuse to appear before a council of war composed of the Marshals of France? If we were obliged to pronounce a condemnation, rather than executing the sentence, we would all have returned our batons to the hands of the King, and he would have been compelled to give pardon.” * The death of Ney pursued Victor to his grave. It was the 7 and 8 March 1841 that the eldest son of the Prince of Moscow made his entrance after ten years of waiting into the Chamber of Peers, demanding in vain the rehabilitation of his father. On both days, Victor was resting at Saint Louis des Invalides, to be buried on 9 March at Père Lachaise.

A note on the footnotes: Victor had died on 1 March 1841, so Le Coustumier may be stretching the metaphor a little. It might be more logical to say that Marshal Ney was left unrecognised until more favourable hands seized political power. The italics are my emphasis, for clarity. pp. 280-281 of the Le Coustumier quotes Augereau (unsourced!) on a similar note.

Weakened by his remorse, Augereau confessed on his deathbed, seven months later: “We were cowards. We should have declared ourselves competent despite Ney’s objections. If we had done so, he would at least have lived."

Augereau's words are believable enough. Do we buy Victor’s “remorse”?

The source from which the claim is taken from should not be disregarded entirely—Le Figaro is still recognised as an authoritative and independent newspaper—but it does have conservative tendencies, and has largely catered to a middle, if not the upper-middle class. To put it in context, the author of the article was a count, writing about a former government official with a similar status to himself, and conducted interviews with said official’s descendants. As a result of the individuals involved and the demographic the newspaper caters to (one similar to the featured individual), the writer would be more likely to portray Victor in a positive light. If remorse does not exonerate Victor, it softens his cruelties and paints his decision as a one-off mistake instead of condemning his character flaws. Is repenting for twenty-six years not absolution enough? Is it not karmic enough that Ney’s death occurred on Victor’s birthday, permanently blackening a date supposed to be his? (Never mind that perhaps he celebrated his name day or baptism day instead of his birthday, or that one day of mourning each year is a small price to pay for a dead man.) But if, as humans, we want to believe in the inherent goodness in Victor, we must also consider the claim's side affect of apotheosising the man. This is, after all, a family account featured in a sympathetic newspaper.

If there were other sources to crosscheck this, we could verify Victor’s sentiments (and if they are true, calling your annual day to wither away in a room “remorse” may be underselling how much you regret your life choices). The problem is that I cannot find other sources. It would be gratifying to believe Victor’s grief was real, because he was only human, but it is dubious at best. One can only hope that, in some timeline, if not in this one, he did pay emotional penance. Ultimately, I think that if a claim is made, it will be remembered if it is a good story.

[impetuous-impulse]

Two Victor Biographies

Recently, I have come across two biographies on Marshal Victor. The first is Le Maréchal Victor (2004) by Jacques Le Coustumier; the second is Le Maréchal Victor: loyal sous Napoléon, fidèle sous le Restauration (2006) by Jean-Pierre Tarin. What is interesting about the two biographies is that they were written for the same person during the same time, when there was (apparently) a dearth of current historiography on Victor.

At a first glance and without having read them in full, both biographies seem to be rather pro-Victor than critical of him (which is understandable, given there are choicer individuals to write critically about in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic eras). The Le Coustumier biography goes out on a limb in that regard—in an interview with the author, he mentions himself to be inspired by his common origins with Victor, both having lived in the Vosges. His methodologies included “work[ing] as a gold panner, searching for little nuggets of gold”, collecting various documents related to victor and consulting Victor’s descendants. From this description, his biography seems more like a work of passion than a historical text. It was published by the Fondation Napoleon in what I assume was an effort to promote popular Napoleonic-era research, and indeed, the author claims to be a vetenarian rather than a historian. However, as it is the first comprehensive biography on Victor written in this century, perhaps it will yield valuable findings about Victor’s character, even if it does not contain much historiography.

The second biography by Tarin seems more balanced, promising a targeted study on Victor’s overall personality. The author’s blurb says he is a specialist historian of the first Empire, with publications esteemed by the Fondation Napoleon. Being published second, Tarin also has hindsight in avoiding the errors of the Le Coustumier’s biography. Of Le Coustumier and his methods, Tarin writes, “I have never known a biographer that has ever found such a catalogue of errors, sometimes even nonsense, about a historical figure.” (The drama! "Spilling tea" right in the preface!) The errors he cites largely involves the geneaology of Victor’s parents and descendants and questionable career mixups (perhaps not unexpected for an amateur?). Tarin also admits shortcomings he cannot cover—numerous “black holes” in Victor’s life, especially concerning his marriage and addresses. Perhaps this book will balance the other out and offer a more holistic assessment of Victor.

This is a bit late for Victor's birthday, but if time permits and as long as I have them, I would like to make my way through the books, and share interesting tidbits on this blog. (Maybe I can convince myself to do it for the sake of practicing my rusty French…)

[impetuous-impulse]

«Beausoleil»

Slowly working through the Victor biographies. Below are two excerpts related to the genesis of his nickname, though much is guesswork and speculation. I have put the original French first and the English translation below; all translation errors are mine.

Le 16 octobre 1781, Claude Perrin est définitivement porté sur le rôle du régiment en qualité de canonnier, dans la compagnie Savournin. Il a presque les dix-sept ans requis. Entrer dans l’armée équivaut à quitter sa famille, pour en adopter un autre. Un soldat gagne 6 sous et 4 deniers par jour et un tambour 9 sous et 4 deniers, autant qu’un caporal: déjà, la transmission de l’information l’emporte. Chacun à l’armée, à defaut de grade, gagne un surnom. Celui de Claude Perrin le suivra toute sa carrière militaire: «Beausoleil».

16 October 1781, Claude Perrin is definitively put on the regimental roll as a gunner, in the Savournin company. He is almost the required seventeen years of age. Entering the army is equivalent to leaving his family for adopting another. A soldier makes 6 sous and 4 deniers per day and a drummer, 9 sous and 4 deniers, as much as a corporal: already, the transmission of news [to him] is superior. Everyone in the army, in the absence of a rank, gains a nickname. That of Claude Perrin will follow him all of his military career: "Beausoleil".

Jacques Le Coustumier, Le Maréchal Victor, p. 19.

On peut penser que Claude ne regrette pas ce changement de vie. Il connaît maintenant ce qui doit être pour lui la vraie vie. Et puis il voit du pays… Après avoir été en garnison en Picardie, il suit son régiment à Valence, sous les cieux du Dauphiné, plus cléments que ceux de la Lorraine, mais dans un province alors agitée et d’où partira la Révolution. Cette ville de garnison lui offre son soleil et les distractions de jeunes hommes pleins de vie et d’espoir. Quand ils ne sont pas en congé, les officiers organisent des fêtes chez les uns et les autres. Naturellement les musiciens de leur régiment créent l’ambiance musicale. Claude les fait danser au son du violon et de la clarinette. C’est sans doute de cette période d’heureuse insouciance que lui est resté le surnom de «Beausoleil»: allusion à sa mine épanouie auréolée de boucles d’un blond-roux qui rappelle la représentation symbolique du soleil sous forme d’un disque entouré de flammèches? Il ressentira plus tard un sentiment d’embarras vis-à-vis de ce surnom qui lui restera dans l’armée. Mais, au fond, n’est-ce pas plutôt un surnom flatteur, très «Louisquatorzieme» et royal? Dans l’armée, c’est depuis longtemps un habitude de donner des surnoms mettant en évidence les traits physiques, parfois aussi psychologiques ou les origines provinciales.

We can assume that Claude did not regret [his] change of lifestyle. He knows now that this must be his true calling. And then he sees the country… After having been in garrison in Picardy, he follows his regiment to Valence [in 1787, it seems], under the skies of Dauphiné, milder than that of Lorraine, but in a province which was then in agitation and where the revolution started. This garrison town offers its sunshine and entertainment for young men full of life and hope. When they are not on leave, the officers organise parties at each other’s homes. Naturally musicians of their regiment create the musical atmosphere. Claude makes them dance to his violin and clarinet. It is without doubt in this period of happy frivolity that the nickname "Beausoleil" sticks to him: an allusion to his round, glowing face framed by reddish-blond curls, recalling the symbolic representation of the sun in the form of a disc surrounded by flames? He will later feel embarrassed by the nickname, which will remain with him in the army. But, at heart, is this not a rather flattering nickname, very “Louis XIV” and royal? In the army, it has long been a custom to give nicknames highlighting physical traits, occasionally also psychological ones or provincial origins.

Jean-Pierre Tairin, Le Maréchal Victor: Loyal sous l'Empire, fidèle sous la Restauration, pp. 19-20

Tairin also introduces this tidbit right afterwards:

Ses protestations musicales lui permettent aussi d’arrondir les fins de mois et placent dans un position privilégée entre la troupe et les officiers. C’est très certainement une opportunité d’entrer dans des milieux sociaux qui lui auraient été inaccessibles autrement. L’infatigable musicien au teint lumineux peut admirer la grâce des jeunes filles de la bonne société qui cherchent un mari et qui fondent à la vue de fringants officiers.

[Claude Perrin’s] musical engagements also enable him to make ends meet and place him in a privileged position between the troop and the officers. It is very certainly an opportunity to enter into a social milieu which would have otherwise been inaccessible to him. The indefatigable musician of luminous complexion can admire the grace of the young girls of good society who are looking for a husband, and who melt at the view of dashing officers.

As we read on, we will see that Claude Perrin will take a step further and marry one of them.