Poitou and Montfort: French battalions for Laarden 1688

From the letters and diaries of the Marquis de Montchevreuil, Grand Écuyer to His Highness The King of France, French Flanders, 1688

I never had much time for the Conte di Fortunato. Like a number of Italians in the service of our glorious King, he had a confident and fulsome opinion of himself. All exquisite manners, glittering abilities and a nastily sharpened stiletto in the back if you crossed him. It takes one to know one, of course - maybe I saw too much of myself in my Milanese nemesis. Put simply, he was a rival.

“This is the Century of the Soldier”, he loudly announced in the Council of War called by the Duc de Varennes, in mid-February, shortly after my encounter with the faux-Baron von Kroneberg, in the coldest season of the year. The Council of War had been discussing the deployment of our brigades in the campaign against the rebellious city of Laarden. Dispatches from von Kroneberg’s Croat horsemen and our dragoons bore sombre news of a growing defensive network of Flemish villages, reinforced by earthworks and small fortifications, bristling with pikes and militia standards, standing in the way of our army’s advance.

I was not overly surprised. I’d campaigned in Flanders before and knew how unforgiving the Flemish terrain and Imperial commanders could be. Yet not all of my brothers-in-arms were of like mind or experience.

“This is the Century of the Soldier”, Fortunato repeated, more loudly. “Victory lies with the progress of many battalions, drilled and trained, uniformed, stubborn and proud”. His gloved hands even caressed the air and indicated two battalions of French foot arrayed close to the command tent where the Duc de Varennes had summoned us.

The dense ranks of soldiers continued their exercise of arms, presenting pikes and muskets, drilled and capable in the frozen air, the loudly shouted orders of their officers clearly audible to all in the command tent. The stamping of their feet on the iron hard ground seemed to be motivated as much by the fierce cold as by martial discipline, however.

I turned the words of the Conte di Fortunato over in my mind. The Century of the Soldier? Really, my Lord, I reminded myself as I smiled appreciatively in Fortunato’s direction, my velvet gloved hands clapping politely to respond to his intervention. Tell me a century which has not belonged to the soldier, his swords and his armour, his violence and his chaos? This is not the Century of the Soldier, however the Duc de Varennes might have enjoyed that Milanese turn of phrase from Lord Fortunato.

No, my Lord, I thought to myself. This is the Century of the military logistician. The Century of the military financier. The Century of the grain magazine. The Century of the enterpriser. I looked over from the command tent to the battalia exercising in the fields, recognising the standards of the regiments of Poitou and Montfort, noting their new uniforms and muskets, the fresh glint of bright steel from the pikemen’s breastplates. This is the Century of the livre, florin, guilder, ducat and Louis d’Or - this, my Lord Italian, is the new way of warfare for this age. Money, money and money - as another, more insightful, Italian once wrote. Money not to buy weapons but to purchase food, clothing, rented winter quarters and wagons laden with fodder for the supply train horses.

And yes, my Lord Fortunato, that is another way of fighting the Flemish.

Soldiers may fight battles. But without money they are like a hard frost in midday sunshine, however rare such an event might be in a Flanders February.

******* 

As mentioned in the last Blog post, I’ve been painting steadily through the summer – if not quickly – and trying to complete the battalions of French foot and squadrons of French horse for my campaign setting of 1688, based around a fictional (though historically-inspired) Flemish city of Laarden. There’s a few more to come, but here you have the battalions of Poitou and Montfort.  Both battalions are historical, and both served in Flanders and along the Rhine in the 1670s and 1680s. The figures are 25mm Dixons and Wargames Foundry.  The lovely standard for Montfort, in red and white triangles imposed on a white field, is from Flags of War.  The bases are from Warbases, and the flag finials are from Flags of War and Bicorne Miniatures.

I tried something new with both battalions.  You might have heard on one of the recent Oddcasts that I was trying out Vallejo Model Colour Washes for the first time.  For some reason, washes have, until this summer, passed me by.  I have no idea why.  I think it was partly my sense that, somehow, washes were messy, uncontrollable and imprecise.  I know, I know…. I should not listen to those little voices in my head, dear friends.  

I decided to give the washes from Vallejo a try, after watching a You Tube video of someone really using them very creatively.  They’ve proved to be terrific fun.  I doubt they have saved me much time, as I’ve mixed the washes and applied them almost like a layer of paint, sometimes a couple of times.  But I have really enjoyed the way they can create a layer of colour on the figures which is variable and slightly translucent.  I found that mixing Vallejo Model Wash ‘Umber’ with ‘Grey’ worked very well to create a dirty, unwashed, campaign “look” for the coats in the Montfort battalion.  I don’t think I could have done this with a dark grey base coat on the figures. 

The other thing which the washes helped with was the feeling of painting fast.  Even with washed area of figures I needed to re-paint (if the wash was too thin), I felt I was definitely getting somewhere.  That was a great feeling.

The standard for Poitou was very simple (symmetrical red and blue squares), and I painted that myself.  I love painting the standards by hand, although it is really a labour of love - far quicker to use the excellent standards from Flags of War or GMB Designs.  Yet there is something about a standard you’ve painted yourself.  It’s never, perhaps, quite as finely traced as a computer version.  The lines are never as straight.  But there is, I feel, something very “1980s” about the whole experience of painting a wargames standard.  Am I the only one who, as the glorious years of wargaming slowly pass by, feels the tug of nostalgia for the 1980s (or whenever each of us started the hobby) just a little more strongly?

Turning to our waspish correspondent, the Marquis de Montchevreuil, I thought it was fun to turn around the fine quotation - "This is the century of the soldier" - by the Italian poet and diplomat, Fulvio Testi, in 1641.  As for the Marquis' reference to another quotation  - “To wage war, you need first of all money; second, you need money, and third, you also need money", is from the great Imperial commander, Montecuccoli, who we might find, in the Marquis' letters yet to be published, the Marquis also encountered at some point in his campaigning.

Next up on the blog are some more French, a couple of vignettes, and some teasers and ideas for the rest of this autumn and the winter to come.  Hope you can all join me for those, dear friends.