#soult and his paintings

[cadmusfly]

After one makes their mark on history, any death that comes is never the end of their story. The versions of such legendary figures that persist in historiography may be twisted beyond recognition, but even so, they are still a part of the overall tale...

Commissioned portraits from @neylo of Roi Nicolas and Roland de Lectoure, two wicked voidborn reflections of dead Napoleonic Frenchmen representing warped versions of their legends!

Roi Nicolas de Saint-Amans is an embodiment of how even now a bunch of reference material wrongly attribute the name "Nicolas" to Jean-de-Dieu Soult, and how his selfish and political deeds like coercing monks into selling paintings for cheap and Portugal political shenanigans have been exaggerated into treasonous villainy-

while Roland de Lectoure is an embodiment of how valorised Jean Lannes has become as "the Emperor's Best Friend" (which is why he wears the helm of a dog, man's best friend) and how his service and death have been collapsed into being the "Achilles" or the "Roland" of the Grande Armée, thus the metaphor of him as a loyal knight.

They're pretty much Excrucians from Nobilis and I do have a writeup for Roi Nicolas as a Glitch PC but also with inspirations from things like SCP Pattern Screamers, Doctor Who EU's Faction Paradox and other fun eldritch abominations who suffer from the curse of perception.

Thank you so much to @neylo again for illustrating these evil baby boys~

[hoppityhopster23]

Genetics can be a fascinating thing. I find great joy in looking at pictures of people and comparing them to photos or paintings of their ancestors, mostly to see what features remained in the family. It is also a great way to know what features on a person are accurate in paintings since oftentimes they can be tweaked to the person's benefit. After talking with @yaggy031910, I discovered some examples that are worth posting about.

The first of the two examples is that of Marshal Murat and his Granddaughter, Anna.

What stands out to me the most between these two is how alike their eyes are. they're almost the same shape. Their cheeks and mouths are similar too, making it hard for me to doubt that they are directly related.

The second one, and by far my favorite of the two, is between Marshal Soult and his Granddaughter Geneviève.

If I were to imagine a female version of Soult, at least a slightly older version of him than the one above, an image very close to Geneviève comes to mind. They are so alike that it scares me a little. It's easier to say what isn't similar between their faces than to say what's is.

[your-dandy-king]

SPLIT THE PARTY #1: Lannes, Petiet, Duroc, Lydia, and the nixa

((Reference the Master List of Previous Posts here))

Duroc's glow makes it easy to follow him. This has the unfortunate effect of plunging Soult, Lameth, and Caroline back into relative darkness because now Duroc's gone and the nixa with its lantern is following him. The shadows seem to shrink away viscerally from his light.

The hallway of mirrors ends at the foot of a multistory marble staircase, the uppermost landings are barely visible even with Duroc's bright glow.

"Please! Get me out of here!" the unseen woman sobs. The faint thumping starts again, like she's beating her fists against a wall or a door. Her voice is still low and muffled, but seems louder once you step up to the fifth floor landing. It may be coming from one of the theatre boxes, or further down a black corridor.

There seems to be debris, bits of broken statues, ripped paintings, and smashed furniture on this level.

A glowing, grinning face leers at everyone from the darkness from where the voice seems to be coming from, and then blinks out like it was never there.

(Tagging all peeps: @armagnac-army, @murillo-enthusiast, @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown, @askgeraudduroc, and @carolinemurat)

[murillo-enthusiast]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

🖼️𝑁𝑒⁣𝑦'𝑠 𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒🖼️

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Previously... 🐱Internalised Catgirl Misogyny: ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ) 🎨An Interloper in the Gallery 🖼️N⁣ey's Painted Paradise: ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 )

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

He smiled. He was so happy. — @le-brave-des-braves “Motherfucker! [...] She begged you to save him, you say? What kind of 'comfort' did you give, Marmont?” — M⁣ur⁣at of @your-dandy-king “Can someone tell Lannes that he isn’t allowed to just go ice diving during active duty. . . I’m too tired.” — Na⁣pol⁣e⁣on of @alexanderfanboy “D-DUROC!” — M⁣arm⁣on⁣t of @askgeraudduroc “Hah...” — D⁣a⁣vou⁣t of @perdicinae-observer

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

The air is freezing but it’s actual air. They can breathe. Murat finally stopped bleeding. They are standing on the bank of a large not quite frozen river. Dnieper. If they look in the water, they see faces. If they looked long enough, they would recognise the friends they lost. — ❄️

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

For a moment- he is sitting on the chair in that room of which the provenance he had not known, he is listening to a young man who he had felt such bitter irritations towards, he is cold and he is still and yet he still reaches out of his frame towards the only comrade he had at Waterloo, or was he reaching out to a lost young man who could have been his son? And then the moment is sketched away, to be replaced by a winter that he did not himself experience.

Soult: ...

He looks around - Murat is attacking Marmont, Napoleon and Duroc are transfixed by the water and may be about to fall in, Davout has fallen and is retching, macarèl de macarèl.

Soult: ATTENTION! TO ME!

He barks the words, as if he is calling to his soldiers, not to his colleagues. He glares at them, seemingly untouched by the doubts that Levavasseur had introduced just before.

I don't know what happened to Marshal Soult but he is clearly different from all of us.

He does not feel the chill in the air. He does not recognise the bodies in the water. He does not care to think about philosophical meanderings that have no practical impact on rational realities. It is preferable that he is not succumbing and faltering to what everyone else is succumb and faltering to, yes, definitely, so there is no damn point to thinking about why that is the case. Again, he calls, and he moves- towards Murat and Marmont.

Soult: Murat, Marmont- gentlemen, we are in ENEMY TERRITORY. We can litigate this later! Everyone, away from the water! Davout, can you stand? Levavasseur- help Davout stand!

He grabs the collar of Duroc's coat and yanking him back as much as he is able, and as he does so, he glances at the water- Surely he is not hoping to see Caroline, Franceschi, Mortier, Lameth, so many- He does not recognise the bodies in the water, and, despite himself, despite everything, that hurts.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

[a-mysterious-wisp-of-mist]

Portrait of a prince

Previously... A mysterious king donates some paint so Eugène can have his portrait painted by Francisco de Goya...

.~.~. (here) .~.~.

Sᴏᴜʟᴛ: Good lu̐ck͊.̪ I w̡il̮l not be back̻ for... let us say, a week? Do tak͘e your t̬ime. Thi̫s... should be a w̹ork of͉ art̶.

Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ̳ɴ ʜᴇ ꜱᴛ̻ᴇᴘꜱ ɪɴ̴ ᴀ͞ ᴅ̱ɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪ͜ᴏɴ̃ ᴛ͎ʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ ʏ̦ᴏᴜʀ̢ ᴇ̎ʏᴇꜱ ᴛ̓ᴏ ꜱ̖ᴇᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜ͐ᴇ'ͨꜱ̶ ɢᴏɴᴇ͉, ʟᴇᴀᴠ̂ɪɴɢ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ̟ ᴛͧʜʀᴇ̞̈́ᴇ ᴘ́ᴀɪɴᴛ̈́-ᴘᴏᴛꜱ ꜰɪʟʟ̧ᴇᴅ̙ ᴡɪᴛʜ̗ ᴄᴏ͜ʟᴏᴜ̇ʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪ͟ᴛᴇʟʏ̷ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜͤ. Iꜰ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀ̞ɪ̓ɴᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴜ͆ʙͮᴊᴇᴄᴛ͖ ᴡʜᴏ ɪꜱ... ɴᴏᴛ̜ ʟͪɪᴋᴇ͠ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? Gᴏᴏͩᴅ̖ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇ̿ᴅ, Mᴏɴꜱ͛ɪ̂ᴇᴜʀ Gᴏʏᴀ,̧ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ Èᴜɢ̑ᴇ̀ɴᴇ.

.~.~. (and here) .~.~.

[...] The sun slips below the horizon entirely and disappears. The twilight deepens from blue, to purple, to velvety black. The Milky Way glitters like a ribbon formed of brilliant, but cold, diamonds, and untainted by the skyglow that plagues modern cities.

Night has come to the domain of the Dandy King.

.~.~. (and here) .~.~.

[... Eugène, shouting out of the window into the night:]

Well, up yours, you insufferable, traiterous peacock! The sun will have to rise again at some point, and we can wait as long as it takes. And if not, we'll just go elsewhere or collect enough lamps and candles to lighten up this room better than daylight could! You will not keep my portrait from being done!

.~.~. (and finally here) .~.~.

After wine, the encouraged painter prepares a new canvas and instructs Eugene to assume a refined pose fit for a monarch like himself. Priming the canvas and the initial sketch went on as normal… until some paint got inevitably smudged on Goya’s clothes…

He suddenly froze in horror, clenching the brush. His eyes widened and he took several steps back, as if trying to escape an invisible monster.

.~.~.

And now:

.~.~.

Eugène is still a little exhausted from running up and down the stairs in search for every source of light, every lamp and every candle stub he managed to find in Bessières' house. And while the resulting brightness is still far from daylight, it seems to be enough for Monsieur Goya to start his work.

It is a very similar experience to his earlier portrait sessions, with Monsieur Gérard or Signore Appiani: Eugène is asked to strike as stately a pose as possible - and feels downright stupid while doing so. That's not him at all, and he knows it.

But what if Eugène "being Eugène" is not appreciated by the rest of the world? Maybe he has to act against his own beliefs in order to be somebody people can admire and respect - or even only notice? He glances at the paints the now royal Marshal Soult has so generously left for the portrait. Right at that moment, Monsieur Goya is dipping his brush into the deep red colour, and this colour seems to whisper into Eugène's mind that he is right, that this is the way for him to go. With new confidence, Eugène once more adopts the pose that feels so ridiculous to him.

Until Monsieur Goya suddenly gasps, his fingers clutching the brush, knuckles turning white. He looks at Eugène with an expression of utter horror.

Monsieur Goya?

Immediately, the pose is forgotten. Eugène may desire this portrait, he may even want to have it badly enough to be ready to hurt himself. But he is not (yet?) willing to let another being suffer because of his personal wishes. He hurries to Monsieur Goya's side, takes him by the arm and tries to guide him to a sofa.

Please, sit down and catch your breath, Monsieur! Here is your glass, please drink something. What has happened? Is it the paint again? I shall run and get a wash basin and more soap, so we can clean it off. And then, if you wish, we shall take a break, so you can rest and regain your strength. King Nicolas said he would only be back in a week, there is no reason to rush this.

[flowwochair]

idk how much I believe the "Soult was a ginger" thing bcuz his hair just looks so dark in some portraits or at the very least with black undertones instead of red, maybe it has to do with the paint they used and how it dried up (some shades of cobalt blue used at the time dried into shades of yellowish gray for example), maybe the varnish they used? idk, I'm not gonna change the hair colour of my Soult design though I think he looks cute <3

[19th-century-calamity-crew]

Roleplay blog: @le-brave-des-braves

Meta information

Owner: @neylo

First post: 28th February 2024 (https://www.tumblr.com/le-brave-des-braves/743594245757222912/bienvenue-you-have-reached-my-communication)

Current pinned post: https://www.tumblr.com/le-brave-des-braves/747279352345083904/bienvenue-you-have-reached-my-communication

Characters

Main character: Michel Ney

Regular appearances: his aides-de-camp Octave Levavasseur, Pierre-Agathe Heymes (both pictured here) and Antoine-Henri Jomini

Irregular appearances: His family, in the Ney's painted paradise thread

Lore

Supernatural characteristics:

This version of Michel Ney has been granted wings by an anonymous message and still retains them. He also carries marks of his execution in the form of dark spots in place of the original gunshot wounds that occasionally show under stressful conditions. This kind of state can also result in a temporary delay of another bodily death.

As of Ney's Painted Paradise, it has been revealed that this version of Ney is able to manipulate the fabric of the afterworld. He does so on instinct, however, and is unable to consciously control the results.

With the manifestation of these powers, his appearance underwent several major changes.

His blood appears to have a golden sunset colour now, which is also present in golden streaks in his otherwise light blue irises.

When changing his surroundings, his eyes go to full gold and he re-gains his wings, which he no longer has by default. The lighting also takes on a sunset hue in the area.

The colour of his wings has been established as coppery red.

Realm:

An ever-shifting tangle of sceneries. A somewhat stable Chateau Bessonies (currently vacant/undergoing reconstruction)

In Ney's Painted Paradise, his realm starts out as a simulacrum of content family life based on several peaceful memories he has. It also contains places based on his regrets though and is for a long time actively hostile towards intruders, mostly forcing a long-forgotten corporeal form onto them, one so incompatible with the surrounding substances that they are toxic to it.

Stories (not exhaustive, regular size text for longer threads:)

-Assisted marshal Lannes who consumed a dubious brownie

-Received his birthday mail two months late and got covered in glitter

-Levavasseur confessed his feelings for his Marshal with a serenade, was rejected

-The Marshal was granted wings, immediately invented aerial fencing. Meanwhile, Jomini returned.

-Discovered Rammstein. This will play a role later.

-Jomini rediscovers the joy of mutual disdain with Berthier, would not apologise properly over his own dead body

-Ney's aides-de-camp are granted wings. Some of them are more happy with them than others.

-Everyone has beef with Napoleon, nobody wants to risk fighting and potentially hurting Lannes, so the Emperor gets out of it this time.

-Soult was turned into a dragon. Berthier's house is flooded by plants. Was it a good idea to start a fire? No.

-Fairy dust can heal burned wings. It also temporarily diminishes the ability to filter your words.

-the twice-heartbroken Levavasseur, after receiving lots of mostly dubious advice, decides to care as he always did. The Marshal does hold him dear.

-Ney is transformed into his 23 year old self

-The wings are healing too slowly, Ney is disheartened

-And gets pep talked by Soult of all people

-Meanwhile, Jomini pockets a potion and makes a bad decision

-Ney and his aides-de-camp move to Soult's domain temporarily. Their host is turned into a cat. Things get very awkward

-The Marshals have a meeting over being turned into female versions of themselves. The workplace violence that follows results in Ney's disappearance.

-To a seemingly idyllic place where all is preserved as it was in days of happiness. But not all is as it seems... - finished

18th of June - that date carries a lot of bad memories. What happens when they come to life?

Upon learning he can accidentally project his trauma into a wide area of the afterlife, Ney decides to find an area that doesn't have people in it. He is stopped in his tracks by a very familiar-looking eight-year-old... (Ongoing)

Drop off a wedding gift and disappear - the plan was simple. But no plan has ever survived first contact with a child... Or Murat, for that matter. (Ongoing)

So Ney is able to shift the fabric of reality. But what exactly do these powers entail? Ney, Soult and their staff officers run some experiments to find out. (Ongoing)

[josefavomjaaga]

About Bessières

Very belated for his birthday a short description of Bessières by general de Bourjolly, quoted in "Les cinq épées":

His attitude is cold, calm, dignified and almost proud, but deep down you couldn't be more benevolent. He observes a lot and speaks little, rarely writes and wants to see everything for himself; on battle days he is all eyes and ears and does not get off his horse; he tires out three or four of them in a day. On the march and while on business, he eats a piece of bread rubbed with garlic, as they do, he says, in his country; he never has any money and is always giving to wounded soldiers. His sensitivity is extreme, and we have seen him refuse objects offered to him by the local authorities, such as paintings and weapons.

[Soult shouting from off-screen: "Paintings? Leave them here, I'll take them!"]

All his luggage fits into a small carriage that a major would not be content with. Although polite to the point of sweetness, he nevertheless inspires fear, because he is stern. He is superb under fire, with unrivalled composure; but when the moment comes to charge the enemy, his face is animated and his eyes flash lightnings; then his voice dominates the noise of the gunpowder, he puts himself at the head and leads his riders, who admire him and love him like a father. Always elegantly dressed, he puts on his finest for battle. His hair is slicked back, exposing a high, broad forehead. His hairstyle is that of the old regime, with white powder and a brigadier's tail. He does not like saucy remarks or irreligious jokes.

The part about his single carriage cannot have been true anymore in Russia, as I have seen a letter to his wife, stating that he had been able to sell some of his vehicles "to the viceroy".

[le-brave-des-braves]

OOC: A bit of organisation

I originally created the blog so I could beef with Soult. Well, it ended up bigger than I expected. Since multiple storylines relate to the surreal Afterlife AU RP, I will try to minimize the chaos.

General tags:

Communication personelle du Maréchal - all the ask replies

Archived correspondence - you ask, Ney will answer. It will be the Ney without any character development from the events.

Live Ney reaction - Ney reacts to posts, usually, he is pissed about it.

Ney is angy - I told you he was pissed

Les portraits du Maréchal - My art relating to Ney or the blog events.

Meine Adjutanten sind Idioten - Having aides-de-camp is great (except for the times it isn't). Featuring Octave Levavasseur, Antoine-Henri Jomini and Pierre-Agathe Heymes

Neylo cosplays Ney - I'm ginger, I have a historical outfit, and I am often too lazy to draw.

Storylines:

Joyeux anniversaire - after two months, the ADCs finally remembered to bring Ney his birthday correspondence. Feat a sticky situation and glitter, a lot of it.

Young and beautiful again - Not really. A magical anon turned Ney into his younger self with long hair, pigtails and a desperate attempt at a moustache. He picked a fight, was pranked by Desaix and in the end got struck by the melancholy of youth. Since his memories from youth prevailed, he accepted Soult's help

La Princesse de la Moscowa - Ney became a woman. Levavasseur got lucky. It didn't end up well - after picking up a fight with female Murat, Murat takes off her heels and hits Ney, accidentally hitting his (her) throat. Ney disappears

Ney's painted paradise: After being killed for the second time, Marshal Ney is stranded in a paradise with his family. But something is very wrong:

The Rescue Group POV

Ney's POV

Prequel - What did Roi Nicolas do

[joachimnapoleon]

Hi! Still reading your book and loving it but making very slow progress because I keep finding all these interesting things that distract me and that I have to look up then 😋.

I've just come across the touching letter Murat wrote to his brother about his mother's death coming closer and what he wanted him to do for her burial. He also had written several times how he missed her and wanted to come home but was always kept away by some thing or other. So I wondered when he did last see his mother?

And on a totally different note: I laughed out loud about his straight-to-the-point description of Blücher (I have nothing to add to that one 😁). Did those two ever meet and have a talk in a more civilised manner (as civilised as Blücher would get anyway)?

I’m glad you’re enjoying the book!!

The last time Murat saw his mother was when he visited La Bastide for several days in November 1803. Here’s how his biographer Atteridge describes it:

At last, after twelve years of waiting, the aged Jeanne Murat welcomed her son at La Bastide. Caroline came with him, bringing her three children, to add to the joy of the old grandmother. The peasant proprietors and small farmers, who formed the family circle of friends at La Bastide, were dazzled with the sight of splendid horses and carriages and brilliantly uniformed equerries, but delighted to find that the great man, Napoleon's famous cavalry leader, the hero of Aboukir and Marengo, had forgotten no one, was ready to meet as equals the friends who had been his playfellows long ago, and anxious to know every one at La Bastide. (…) The days spent among them would be among the happiest of his life, and he rejoiced at seeing old friends again, and making new friends among them. (…) It is not certain that he ever saw his native place again. He may have had a passing sight of it five years later, when he was on his way to Spain as lieutenant-general of the Emperor.

Jacques-Onfroy de Bréville illustrated the reunion of Murat with his mother:

As for any meeting with Blücher, it’s possible that they exchanged some words when Murat, Soult, and Bernadotte accepted Blücher’s surrender after Lubeck in 1806, but if so I haven’t found any record of it. Alphonse Lalauze painted this scene of the surrender and I still love how unimpressed Murat looks here:

[usergreenpixel]

This is probably a bit impolite because I have not answered your question yet, but as you mentioned Joseph still being hated with a passion in Spain, I wondered if there were similar sentiments in Spain today for Murat (because of Dos de Mayo) and for Soult (because of his Murillo paintings). I have tried looking up Soult's name on Spanish websites and found that he was still accused of all sorts of crimes but as I do not speak the language I cannot tell how correct that perception is. Do you happen to know more? Thanks in advance, as always!

Pretty much everyone connected to Naps and Naps himself have a bad reputation but Murat doesn’t seem to pop up much. So probably no particularly strong hatred for him but bad attitude simply because he was involved.

Soult is hated too, but most marshals aren’t mentioned much. The hatred is more on Naps and Joseph, it seems.

[cadmusfly]

Non Comprehensive List of the Nice Spanish Paintings That Mysteriously Ended Up in Marshal Soult's Collection

Sourced from the essay Seville's Artistic Heritage during the French Occupation in the book Manet/Velázquez: The French Taste for Spanish Painting, which can be downloaded for free on the Met's website which is frankly awesome but i wish someone OCRed their book

In 1852 at the sale of his collection, there were 109 paintings up for sale - 78 from the Seville School, including 15 Murillos and 15 Zurbaráns.

It's interesting that Soult wanted to legitimize his ownership of these paintings via receipts and official documentation - the biography of him I was machine translating talks about the king questioning his collection and him pulling out receipts for each painting. But, well, the essay puts it like this: "The existence of an official letter can be explained by Soult's desire to dress up in legal or formal terms what was in reality theft or extortion."

I might put excerpts from the essay in a different post, but for now, let's look at the list! Modern locations of the paintings are in parentheses, and I must say, for an essay critical of historical reappropriation of artwork, a lot of these artworks are still extant. Not a dig or anything, just an observation.

I do not condone extorting or stealing priceless Spanish artworks anyway

On with the show!

Murillo The Immaculate Conception (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) Virgin and Child (Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool) Saint Elizabeth of Hungary Nursing the Sick (Church of the Hospital de la Caridad, Seville) Christ Healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (National Gallery, London) The Return of the Prodigal Son (National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.) Abraham and the Three Angels (National Gallery Of Canada, Ottawa) The Liberation of Saint Peter (State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg) Saint Junipero and the Pauper (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Salvador de Horta and the Inquisitor Of Aragon (Musée Bonnat, Bayonne) Brother Julián de Alcalá and the Soul of Philip II (Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Mass.) The Angels' Kitchen (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Dream Of the Patrician (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Patrician John and His Wife (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Triumph of the Eucharist (Lord Farringdon Collection, Buscot Park, Farringdon, England) Saint Augustine in Ecstasy [Not sourced from the above book, from a Christies auction actually]

Herrera the Elder The Israelites Receiving Manna (unknown/destroyed?) Moses Striking the Rock (unknown/destroyed?) The Marriage at Cana (unknown/destroyed?) The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes (Musée d'Amiens, destroyed in 1918) Last Communion of Saint Bonaventure (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Basil Dictating His Doctrine (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

Zurbarán Saint Apollonia (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Lucy Musée des Beaux-Arts, Chartres Saint Anthony Abbot (private collection, Madrid) Saint Lawrence (State Hermitage, St. Petersburg) Saint Bonaventure at the Council of Lyon (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Bonaventure on His Bier (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Apotheosis of Saint Thomas Aquinas (Museo de Bellas Artes, Seville) Saints Romanus and Barulas (Art Institute of Chicago) paintings of the archangel Gabriel and Saint Agatha (both Musée de Montpellier)

Cano Saint John with the Poisoned Chalice and Saint James the Apostle (both Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint John Giving Communion to the Virgin (Palazzo Bianco, Genoa) Saint John's Vision Of God (John and Mable Ringling Museum Of Art, Sarasota) Charity and Faith (present location unknown; 1852 Soult sale) Saint Agnes (destroyed in fire in the Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

Uncertain source, thought to be Murillo at the time A Resting Virgin (usually identified as The Holy Family with the Infant Saint John the Baptist, Wallace Collection London) The Death Of Abel Saint Peter Saint Paul

Other artists in his collection whose specific works weren't named Sebastiån de Llanos Valdés Pedro de Camprobin José Antolinez Sebastiån Gomez

[your-dandy-king]

All Together Again (For Now)

((For all the previous posts here's the Master List for the Phantoms of the Opera Campaign.))

((As last left off, Duroc was awake, Dr. Larrey has arrived, and the party is starting to come back together again.))

Roll call for everyone in this scene: Soult, Lannes, Lydia, Bory, Petiet, Lameth, Duroc, Caroline, Murat, the nixa, Ombre (in Soult's pocket) ((Am I missing anyone?))

As Lannes, Lydia, and Petiet limp their way back down the stairs and out, it may be noted that perhaps some of the murals and paintings have changed. There seem to be fewer tragedies, sinners burning in hellfire, martyred saints, and monstrous otherworldly creatures. Instead, they are replaced by pastoral and even almost-cheerful Rococo and Baroque scenes of fat cherubs, pretty ladies, prettier men, and verdant landscapes.

The lobby is as brightly lit as it's probably ever been, still clean and neat and completely dust free. Duroc is sitting up on the marble floor, his arms gone above the elbow. Tourniquets improvised from fabric ribbons have been used to tie off the stumps, but he doesn't appear to be in that much pain. Disoriented, but not in pain. Dr. Larrey is tending to him.

((Tagging @armagnac-army, @the-adventures-of-lydia-brown, @murillo-enthusiast, @trauma-and-truffles, @carolinemurat, @askgeraudduroc - oh my god i think that's everyone?))

((Everyone seems to have this in good hands, the GM will step in when necessary. OOC questions are welcome in DMs. Go run with it!))

[murillo-enthusiast]

cough, cough

@le-brave-des-braves prev thread ( 1 )

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Soult: Captain Levavasseur- he does not appear to be bleeding all the time. It only seems to show when his... capabilities are in effect.

Petiet: Either it's a sign of his, uh, powers... or he's bleeding all the time and just covering it up, like our glamours..?

Soult: Possibly. We will investigate that later. Brun, write down that the time taken for Ney to create that cube seems to have passed far quicker than what would be expected.

Brun: Yes, mon maréchal.

Soult: ... I have an idea. Lameth, join Bory in there.

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Inside the painting, Bory looks pretty excited.

Bory: Fascinating methodology, Monsieur le Maréchal! And it does seem that you do far better with that which relates to your memories and your emotions than to precision. You see, the ball and the cube are intended to be simple objects that would theoretically be easier to manipulate-

Lameth: Salut!

Lameth saunters into the painting. She is still a woman, yes, but parts of her glamour-appearance appear to have colours mixing with each other, bleeding together in the way that ink does.

Bory: Ah, Mademoiselle Lameth, you interrupted me during my infodumping!

Lameth: Oh I do apologise, Bory! But you see, I may actually be less flammable than you, in the case of a Neysplosion, so it was decided that I will accompany you two, and also be the emergency fire extinguisher~

Bory: Brilliant! How about you continue the tests, while I examine this workshop that has been created?

Lameth: Sure, sure~ Your Excellency, what is this workshop to you? What are you feeling now? What do you remember?

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and that eureka moment hits you like a cop car / and you wake up just head and shoulders in a glass jar

[a-mysterious-wisp-of-mist]

Home sweet home (1/?)

Once again, Eugène has set out to explore the strange realms of the afterlife. This time, however, while walking the dusty road leading away from Monsieur Goya’s cottage, in some undefined direction, through some undefined and vaguely Spanish-looking countryside, he’s starting to connect some dots (or so he thinks).

Both Marshal Soult and Marshal Lannes (or rather "Roi Nicolas" and "Sir Roland" Lannes) have assured him that there must be a way for him to find his own place in these realms. His journey to find Monsieur Goya has shown him that, in order to get to a certain point, he needs to focus his thoughts and energy on it (not that he’s quite sure how this is done), and that, the longer he stays in a place and with people unrelated to his memories, the weaker his grip on this afterlife seems to get.

So, obviously he needs to go to an important place connected to his memories in order to find his own home. Right?

There’s only one problem: Not many places feel like home in Eugène’s memories. Whereever he stayed during his adult life, and no matter how much he loved the place, he only ever was representing somebody else there or enjoying another person’s hospitality. Without ever fully realizing it, and surely without ever resenting it, he has to some degree lived the life of a vagabond. A pampered and spoilt vagabond, but still a vagabond at heart.

Auguste is going to kill me if I ever tell her this.

But even in a life full of war and unrest, there must have been a certain sense of security, of belonging once. He fondly remembers the town of Fontainebleau, the home of his aged grandfather, where he would meet with his mother and sister during school holidays, where his father was present at least in one of the paintings on the wall of the salon, and sometimes even in person, during one of his rare and embarrassed visits. The narrow streets Eugène had roamed as a child, the small buildings with their two or three stories and large shuttered windows, where he knew every gate, every fence, where people would recognize and greet him as he walked by – did this not represent some sort of home? Surely it was the closest thing to a childhood home Eugène had known, and surely this has made big enough of an impact on his mind to allow him to find this place again now?

Maybe it has indeed. Without Eugène even realizing it, his surroundings have changed. The scorching heat and the dusty road have been replaced by a cloudy sky and a gentle breeze on cobbled streets. Houses have grown out of the ground and lined up along the alleys, gathered around small squares. There are people on the streets, wearing the somewhat old-fashioned clothes of Eugène's childhood, only a few at first, but more and more the further Eugène goes.

It takes a while untile he realizes that something is amiss.

The buildings seem to have grown - or has he himself rather shrunk? Passers-by seem to have grown taller, too. Eugène's point of view has turned into that of a child. Both people and buildings tower over him. Is that the reason why there's suddenly so little sunlight anymore, why the sky seems even darker than before, why the shadows seem to have thickened and grown?

No, it's not. The sky has indeed grown black, it may start raining soon, the wind has turned chilly. People are holding torches and wearing dark, hooded cloaks all of a sudden, Eugène cannot recognize their faces anymore, can barely make out if they have any. The buildings have indeed changed, too, they are wider, have far more stories and larger, more decorated portals than those Eugène remembers from Fontainebleau, they sport doors ridiculously wide and high, cold white marble columns rising up until they almost disappear in the twilight, heavy enough to topple over and bury you beneath their weight...

This does not feel like Fontainebleau at all anymore. And indeed, it isn't.

Eugène does not want to, but he is dragged along with the crowd, people all moving in the same direction, gathering like in trance, moving like automatons. In vain he tries to turn, to squirm free, to run in the opposite direction. He does not want to go there. He knows where this is, when this is, as he is pushed closer and closer to a place everyone who's lived in Paris during that time would immediately recognize.

The place du Trône-Renversé.

He can hear the rattling of the cart before he sees it, frozen with shock, his heart beating in his chest as if to compete with the drum rolls echoing through the street, eyes wide with fear. He can see the convicts' heads moving above those of the crowd, as if already detached from their bodies, and while he can make out barely anything in the sudden darkness that has engulfed his surroundings, he can clearly recognise the faces of those in the cart.

Can clearly recognise those eyes that blindly stare into his own.

Papa!

[flowwochair]

Hi, I've only recently come across your art and wanted to thank you for sharing - in particular for the napoleonic marshals. 💖Also, you've mentioned in a recent post that you had found out that Soult was an exceptionally unlucky person. Could you please elaborate on that? I've become increasingly interested in Soult over the last years myself. Thanks a bunch for all information in advance!

Hi, tysm!!! I always get nervous when sharing my art so it's nice to hear that people enjoy it ^-^

Regarding Soult, it's mostly that I've noticed a pattern whenever I read stories about either his personal life or military life in which a series of coincidences or unprecedented events somehow combine and lead to him suffering unfortunate consequences 😭😭 I've read of situations like this so often at this point that I just kinda feel bad for him, be it some terrible coincidence happening to him during a hunt, or one of the many chaotic situations he had to deal with in Spain, sometimes I think maybe his bad luck is why he became such a hardened and somewhat distant person. Basically every time I find out some new story about him it's one that ends in disaster (I'm not sure if that just happens to be a coincidence that painted him as an unlucky person in my mind, but it's just so often that it stuck out to me), I would name specific examples off the top of my head but I have very poor memory 😭😭 I just remember reading about his part in the peninsular war in particular and thinking "man this guy really can't catch a break", whenever he accomplished something it would be undone very shortly afterwards, I felt bad 😭😭