#hulot

Current New Yorker magazine, celebrating the 2024 Paris Olympics with a Jacques Tati cover.

SUBLIME CINEMA #242 - TATI’S MON ONCLE

When the commandant gave vent to this military oath (an object it must be      said of Republican atheistical remonstrance) it gave warning of a storm;      the diverse intonations of the words were degrees of a thermometer by      which the brigade could judge of the patience of its commander; the old      soldier’s frankness of nature had made this knowledge so easy that the      veriest little drummer-boy knew his Hulot by heart, simply by observing      the variations of the grimace with which the commander screwed up his      cheek and snapped his eyes and vented his oath. On this occasion the tone  of smothered rage with which he uttered the words made his two friends      silent and circumspect. Even the pits of the small-pox which dented that      veteran face seemed deeper, and the skin itself browner than usual. His      broad queue, braided at the edges, had fallen upon one of his epaulettes      as he replaced his three-cornered hat, and he flung it back with such fury      that the ends became untied. However, as he stood stock-still, his hands      clenched, his arms crossed tightly over his breast, his mustache bristling, Gerard ventured to ask him presently: “Are we to start at once?”    

Honoré de Balzac, Les Chouans

Uniform references for Hulot, chief of a half-brigade (a rank used instead of the aristocratic “colonel” in the years 1793-1803) in 1799, including sabers and pistols used by officers of the line infantry. During the events of Les Chouans, Hulot is 33 years old (despite being referred to as a veteran and “old soldier”).