Hooptedoodle #40a – Napoleon’s Last Words

Definitely not tonight, Josephine

Well, with thanks to super-sleuth Metal Detector, I revisited the death-bed scene in the Clavier film, this time with the Danish subtitles switched on. I still can’t make out what he says but, according to the subtitles, he says “Helvedet... Arméen...”, which Google Translate reckons means something like “Hell... army...”, which might be a nice reference to Jean Lanne’s earlier dying words, in which he maintained that he was going to Hell, because that is what happens to people like him, and that he would meet Napoleon there.

I was sort of comfortable with that, but I find that a more official record of Napoleon’s last words says that he said “tête d’armée...” and then “Josephine...”. I guess he just mumbled, and no-one really knows. Please feel free to make up your own version. That is my own Last Word on the subject.

In the wider world of last words and epitaphs, there are some great classics, of course. Two of my personal favourites are Spike Milligan’s proposed epitaph, “I TOLD YOU I WAS ILL”, and the reported last words of Buddy Rich, the noted jazz drummer and psychopath – as he went in for his final (unsuccessful) heart operation, he was asked if he was allergic to anything, and replied “Country & Western music”.

Hooptedoodle #40 - The Maxims of Ernie's Dad

Now this really is a silly one. I had another go at trying to hear what Napoleon's last words are in the Christian Clavier film, and I still can't make it out. For a moment I thought how weird it would be if he said "Rosebud", and then I remembered Ernie's dad. The connection is, at best, tenuous - all right - there is no connection - it's just something to do with the humour implicit in trying to find deep philosophical meaning in something which is actually meaningless. Analysts of Beatles' lyrics used to excel in this field.

My old friend Ernie - alas no longer with us - was Welsh, and his dad was a fearsome ex-miner with a devotion to Chapel and to strong drink. When Ernie left home at 16 to become a naval cadet, his father made one of the longest speeches of his life. He said, "Always remember to trust in the Lord, Ernie, and never forget that what you keep in your pocket will strike no sparks".

Ernie promised that he would remember it, and for years afterwards he wondered what on earth it meant. When his dad became old and infirm and went into a nursing home, Ernie went to visit him, and decided to ask him about it. His dad said, "Did I say that? Can't remember anything about it - it makes no sense at all to me", and the subject was never mentioned again. Having fretted about it for years, Ernie was understandably disappointed.

If you were hoping that, in spite of everything, there might be some point to this story, you have my apologies.

History as Farce [3] – And It All Ended in Tears

And I knew it would. The first slightly uncomfortable moment came when the Imperial Headquarters were making themselves at home in Moscow. I was a bit worried about Napoleon riding his horse up the stairs, but the real shock came when someone burst into the room, shouting that Moscow was in flames, and when they drew the curtains back, sure enough, the whole city was an inferno. You'd think they'd have got some inkling of this a little earlier, but never mind - it was a great shot. The way home from Russia, of course, is very harrowing indeed - in fact this worked better than most of the film, since small groups of wretched stragglers looked more appropriate in this context. Then Napoleon is terribly rude to Metternich, who has come to Paris to tell him that it is all very well for him to declare peace, but the Allies would like to insist on a few conditions, and the subsequent unpleasantness of 1813 blends seamlessly into 1814 without any mention of Leipzig or anything significant like that. Next minute Paris surrenders and we're off to Elba. I am personally pleased to note that the surrender is blamed on brother Joseph, not on Marmont, for a refreshing change.

According to Gallo's script (apparently), Napoleon's decision to return to France is primarily triggered by his learning of Josephine's death, which seems a surprisingly oblique piece of whimsy, and when he gets there he is intercepted by the 5eme Ligne, commanded in person by Marshal Ney - an OOB which only ever existed in the screenplay for the Bondarchuk movie - I believe that in reality Ney turned up some days later. Waterloo is pretty much what you'd expect - a brave effort with sparse resources - but there is a strange moment when Grouchy has his classic argument with Gerard about whether their detached force should march towards the sound of battle. I’ve always envisaged this force plugging along muddy roads, but the artistic director prefers to have them arranged scenically around the countryside as though they were already in battle. Also, because of the obvious manpower shortages, battalions are seen marching about very smartly in what looks like about 33:1 figure scale - the units are 6 men wide by about 5 deep. It looks like a wargame played with real men - like giant chess.

There are some interesting bits while Napoleon considers a series of mad schemes to go to America (to become a scientist), to be smuggled through the British blockade in a barrel (which he rejects as inappropriate for the Emperor of the French) or to give himself up to the English and request a nice house near London with a few rose bushes. Of course, it's all baloney, and he ends up in St Helena, trying hard to re-establish some credibility as a nice guy. Hudson-Lowe, the governor, is brilliantly cast - the perfect Wicked Stepfather. As Napoleon's health worsens he has a series of flashbacks about his days at the military academy, where he was told that he would never amount to anything, and - infuriatingly - in his death-bed scene I didn't hear his last words, so will have to watch that bit again.

The scrolling text at the end explains that his ashes were eventually returned to France, where he now rests in Paris, and the splendid shot of Napoleon's tomb brought me a bit of a personal lump in the throat, since this is the exact spot where my grandfather introduced me to Napoleon and his adventures when I was 12 or so - and compromised the rest of my life! There is a family story that, years earlier, my grandfather, who moved to Paris in his early twenties, took his own father to the Invalides and the old man, who had a proverbially blunt turn of phrase, pondered the tomb for a while, and said, "Well, they certainly didn't want the bugger to get out of that again, did they?"

And on that note of appropriate bathos I shall leave Napoleon to the tender mercies of history, but I thought I'd mention a couple of points that came up in my reading this week - in the Campagnes du Capitaine Marcel, and in the autobiographical account of the Peninsular War by Lemonnier-Delafosse, I found two separate references to organisation of voltigeurs at brigade level, which I was pleased about because I have my wargames armies organised in this way, so all supportive evidence is welcome! Marcel was captain in charge of the voltigeur company of the 3rd battalion of the 69e Ligne, in the VI Corps in Spain, and he refers to a major of the 6e Leger who commanded the combined light troops of his brigade in action. Lemonnier-Delafosse was captain of the 4th chasseur company of the 1st battalion of the 31e Leger (who were, as it happens, Piedmontese) who were part of Ferrey's Division at Salamanca, which formed the reserve and covered the retreat of the French army - he describes the combined "battalions" of voltigeurs from each brigade being sent out en tirailleur to skirmish, with excellent effect.

That'll do nicely.

History as Farce [2] - Eylau, Tilsit, Spain...

Never buy a used car from this man, or any of his relatives

Very pleased to get back to the DVD of the French TV mini-series of the pantomime history of the Napoleonic Wars. Last night there were a lot of dealings with the Tsar (seems a nice man, but there's going to be real trouble over Poland, I think), and the Spanish royal family (despicable - Ferdinand VII even speaks with his mouth full, which is a dreadful thing to witness - at least as horrifying as the battle scenes). And then Murat and half a dozen cavalrymen rode through Spain setting fire to thatched cottages - thatched cottages being one of the things Spain is famous for, of course. Tilsit was excellent - much embracing by Napoleon and Alexander on the barge, while the extras of both armies stood on the shore and shouted "Hurrah" on the count of three.

Throughout, the infertility of Josephine and the very apparent fertility of Maria Valewska and a number of other spectacular young ladies kept us all gripped, and Fouché and Talleyrand skulked around and explained the subplots - boo, hiss! About an hour into my session last night, Jean Lannes died, and in his death scene made a very impressive speech about his love for the Emperor, and his fears concerning the long term implications of His Majesty's foreign policy. All authentically quoted from Max Gallo's novel. At this point I was starting to doze off, but I'll be getting back to it to see what happens next.

Napoleon is definitely not a man to trust too much - I'm beginning to have real misgivings about him - but he is certainly more trustworthy than his immediate family, especially that Mme Murat. Very entertaining - I would not recommend it as educational material, but it's excellent fun throughout. The interior sets are really stunning - at one point Talleyrand is summoned to Napoleon's study, which is about the same size as the Parc des Princes, and has to look around to find him. Maybe 25mm scale buildings would not be oversized on the tabletop after all?

More soon.

Hooptedoodle #39 - Do Not Anger the Gods

Bit stormy last night - Britain is a gentle place as far as weather goes, normally, but it's definitely been windy recently.

Being of a nervous disposition, I have safely stored away the garden furniture in the garage for the Winter, but we have a dirty great teak 6-seater table which is so heavy that we can hardly shift it, so I had pushed that to a sheltered part of the garden. This morning I find that the wind has flung it right across the terrace into a stone wall, and it is, as you see, looking a bit secondhand. Distressed, even.

I am very pleased that the wind did not decide to throw it through the French windows, but it is still a sobering thing to witness. The table has a slatted top, which you would expect to cut down on wind-lift, and is designed to be heavy enough to be left out in all weathers - I would struggle to overturn it unaided, and it would take a sledgehammer to do that kind of damage.

The photo is for the insurers, but it seemed a pity not to share it.

Hooptedoodle #38 - Shoot the Messenger

I tell this tale without anger or malice. I feel that the attention to detail and level of customer service I describe here should be more widely known.

I live on a farm, miles from the nearest street light, and I've become aware recently that the steps at the bottom of our front path are potentially pretty dangerous when it gets dark. We have had some elderly visitors over the holiday period and, naturally, I am concerned that someone might fall and hurt themselves. It could even be me, for goodness sake. Our solution was to order up some solar-powered spot lights, which should be bright enough, even with the limited charge they get during the short days, to help make the steps visible. I ordered them online and, since we were getting close to New Year, paid the extra whack for guaranteed next day courier delivery.

It all looked very promising. I got a series of emails from the courier, DPD, which gradually built up the story of the progress of my package. I could see when it arrived at DPD's Birmingham "hub", then the following morning when it reached their Edinburgh depot. Then a note to say that the package was on the van, and would be delivered between 14:25 and 16:25, and could we please make sure someone would be in to sign for it.

Then around 14:10 there was an additional note which said they had attempted to deliver the parcel, got no answer, and left a "You Were Out" card - would I please contact them to arrange to collect the package from their depot (40 miles away) or to arrange re-delivery. It goes without saying that they had not been here - you can see a good way down the farm lane toward the public road from our windows, and there had been no sign of a courier. I phoned the seller of the lights - they were very sympathetic, said that there had been a number of similar complaints, and that they would chase it up and someone would phone me back. They did. The card had been left "at a brown door" and DPD would contact me to arrange delivery. No brown doors here, I said, and - since we were likely to be out the following day, could the driver please leave the package in the woodshed behind the garage?

We heard nothing from DPD. Next day, I came home in torrential rain to find the box had been left on the front doorstep and was rapidly dissolving. No damage done, these are outside lights and weatherproof, but it might have been a delivery of books, and we might have gone to Florida for the Winter. Anyway, I have my lamps, with which I am pleased, and I have abandoned any hope of getting a refund of the extra shipping charge, but it wasn't very much, and they probably need the money, poor souls. It is a bit depressing though, isn't it?

In keeping with this general theme of the convenience of home delivery, here is a celebrated CCTV clip from YouTube of a FedEx driver delivering/breaking a computer monitor. Heart-warming.

The Stripper

All right - calm down, calm down. During odd moments over the last month or so I have been doing a stock-take of what is still to be painted, and found 3 battalions which I bought in via eBay, supposedly painted to a fairly decent standard. I reckoned that retouching them a little and adding the odd missing command figure would be an ideal, lightweight painting project to get me started off in January.

Well, actually, when I sat down with the bright light and the magnifying specs I was in for a disappointment. Not only was the painting worse than I remembered, but there was a variety of other minor irritations such as base-flock in the varnish, some shades I cannot match properly, and evidence of original casting flash which had never been removed before painting. One thing I have learned is that you never get happier about a paint job you don't like much to start with. I see no point in investing effort into painting up a unit which is never going to be very pleasing, so I decided to strip the entire 3 battalions and start again.

As luck would have it, we just had enough thick bleach to do the job, so I did the whole lot over a single night - laid them out carefully in one of my trusty ice cream tubs, covered them up in bleach, put the top on the tub and left them overnight.

I am a bit of a born-again bleach user. I came to believe in it only fairly recently, and I owe everything I know to a very useful post in Ian's Hinton Hunt blog [thanks again, Captain]. The secret is to get the soak time just right. Too short and it's not effective - too long and you get some kind of deterioration of the surface of the casting metal. My current "best practice" guideline is 12 hours.

The figures came up well. Toothbrushing and picking off the remaining shreds of paint wth a penknife is a messy, long-winded business, so I set myself up in the kitchen with appropriate amounts of coffee and the Celtic vs Rangers game on BBC Radio 5, and just fussed away at it. One final rinse to make sure everything was clean and chemically inert and things were ready for the next stage. When I take a look at the castings, I realise that this will involve removal of 30-year-old flash and filing bases flat and then I'll ship them off to David the Painter. So it's time and expense I hadn't planned for, but I'm comfortable that it's the right way to go. There will, of course, be a bit of an extra delay before the units are ready for The Cupboard, but hey.

A couple of final thoughts

(1) It sometimes surprises me how poorly some figures are painted - this is not snobbery, or because my own standards are unusually high, it is simply that it is only a bit more effort to make a decent job of it, metal wargame figures have never been cheap and it hardly seems worth the work involved in doing something half-baked.

(2) Interesting things happen in the bleach - some colours and some paints are much more resistant than others. Gold metallic paint seems to be tough, and flesh-colour is notoriously stubborn for some reason. Black gloss is also hard to shift, and this time I had some figures which had their shako pompoms finished in a sky blue paint which came out of the bleach almost exactly as it went in! I must find out what that paint was, and do my shed with it.

(3) You have to be very careful that any resident midnight ice cream fanciers do not get a nasty surprise. My tub usually has a skull and cross-bones post-it in place, though I can see that this might still cause problems for pirates who like ice cream.

Anyway, they're all done now and will go for painting once I've cleaned the castings up. Happy New Year to anyone reading this - I hope to get some more posts on the forthcoming campaign over the next few weeks. I also note - in passing - that the rules for Commands & Colors: Napoleonics new Spanish expansion include some things which I had already improvised for my own Spanish armies - double retreats for a start - so I am pleased that GMT got it right!