The Last Word in Last Words

 

Last words.

Most of them litter History’s floor often bruised and buried beneath boots of victors. 

That is perhaps God’s gift to the soon to be departed. I imagine that when in the throes of dying, you do not do your best work. God understands that and spares you embarrassment.

Other last words are lost in the myriad of commonalities of surrounding words, particularly during war or natural disasters. For example, I am reminded of Napoleon’s Old Guard, his elite soldiers, when toward the end of the Battle of Waterloo and led by an ancestor of mine, they refused to surrender despite being the target of countless cannon surrounding them.  I can imagine the last words of those brave men as the canon ripped them apart: Oh merde!                       

 I don’t know what my last words will be. I want to think they will be something like “What are we doing tomorrow?” which would suggest that my death comes quickly and unheralded, in the company of someone I love, rather than suffering the slow degradation I deserve.

Some of the famous last words may or may not have been uttered by those to whom they are attributed. For example, who said “Et tu Brute”? Caesar or William Shakespeare?  

We can only imagine the last words of some others. It’s pure conjecture, but could they not have been for George Armstrong Custer at Little Big Horn: “Bloody hell! Where did they come from?”

My favourite actor is Jimmy Cagney. I don’t know what he said on his deathbed, but given the exasperation he had experienced during his life about what he did and didn’t say, he could be forgiven for saying, “Okay. For Fucksake!: You dirty rat. Satisfied?” You dirty rat was never said in any film in his lifetime.

We know the (almost) last words Oscar Wilde said on his deathbed in the Hôtel d'Alsace in Paris. Looking toward the grotesque wallpaper in his room, he turned to a companion and said, “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death - one or the other of us has to go.”  It was Oscar who went, dying a few hours later; the wallpaper is still there.^⁠1

There are great last words everywhere. Let’s look at a few:

“Hey, fellas! How about this for a headline for tomorrow’s paper? ‘French fries.'”— James French, convicted murderer (before his execution on an electric chair).

Similarly: “Bring me a bullet-proof vest.”— James W. Rodgers, convicted murderer (when asked if he had a last request before dying by firing squad).

“I’ve had 18 straight whiskeys… I think that’s the record.”— Dylan Thomas, poet.

“I should have never switched from scotch to martinis.”— Humphrey Bogart, actor.

“Gun’s not loaded… see?”— Johnny Ace, singer (while playing with a gun backstage during a concert).

“I’m bored with it all.”— Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister.

“This is no way to live.”— Groucho Marx, comedian.

“Turn me over — I’m done on this side.”— Lawrence of Rome, deacon (while being burned alive as punishment).

“Don’t let it end like this. Tell them I said something important.”— Pancho Villa, a Mexican revolutionary.

 “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance.”— General John Sedgwick during the American Civil War just before he was shot dead by a Confederate sniper:

Though not “last words” as such, it is typical of Spike Milligan that the epitaph written on his headstone is, “I told you I was ill.”

And the last word in last words for me was that of Joseph Henry Green: A surgeon, Green was checking his own pulse as he lay dying. His last word? 

“Stopped.”

¹ Incidentally, Oscar Wilde is buried within 500 metres of my aforementioned Waterloo ancestor, Marshal Ney. Ney’s final words were “Soldiers, when I give the command to fire, fire straight at my heart. Wait for the order. It will be my last to you.” He was then ripped apart by a firing squad. Technically, therefore, his last word was “Fire!”