One of the only times Napoleon was conquered, and it isn’t who you would of thought.
One of the only times Napoleon was conquered, and it isn’t who you would of thought.
From The Memoirs of Baron Thiébault (late Lieutenant-general in the French Army) Vol 1, pages 185-186.
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All through that summer he shot and hunted, and everyone racked his brains to vary his amusements in that line. Like a good courtier, Alexander Berthier was not behindhand. He had the idea of giving the Emperor some rabbit-shooting in a park which he possessed just out of Paris, and had the joy of having his offer accepted. The property possessed everything calculated to make the sport agreeable except rabbits; but rabbits are common enough, and the marshal, being, as adjutant-general, accustomed to think of everything and provide, considered that he was as right as he could be when he had ordered a thousand of those animals to be turned down in the park on the morning of the day. An order of that kind is not executed by halves, and not a rabbit of the thousand was wanting. At length all was ready; the Emperor had been expected, the Emperor had arrived, a splendid breakfast had been served. The accessories made way for the principal business; the sport began, and Berthier was in high delight at having been granted the honour of giving his master some healthy pastime with the opportunity of distinguishing himself. But how can I tell it or be believed? All those rabbits, which should have tried in vain, even by scattering themselves, to escape the shots which the most august hand destined for them, suddenly collected first in knots then in a body; instead of having recourse to a useless flight, they all faced about, and in an instant the whole phalanx flung itself upon Napoleon. The surprise was unbounded, as was Berthier’s wrath. At once he assembled a force of coachmen with long whips, and proud of having found a decisive opportunity of protesting against a cruel word which had escaped the First Consul on the field of Marengo–“Berthier is not of the stuff of which they say brave men are made”–he darted forward at their head. The rabbits put to flight, Napoleon was delivered; and they were looking on the incident as a delay–comical, no doubt, but well over–when, by a wheel in three bodies to right and left, the intrepid rabbits turned the Emperor’s flank, attacked him frantically in the rear, refused to quit their hold, piled themselves up between his legs till they made him stagger, and forced the conqueror of conquerors, fairly exhausted, to retreat and leave them in possession of the field, only thankful that some of them had not succeeded in scaling the rumble of the Emperor’s carriage and getting themselves borne in triumph to Paris.
It only remains to explain the phenomenon, and all was revealed as soon as it was known that Berthier’s emissary, not award that there could be any difference between one rabbit and another, had bought rabbits from the hutch instead of from the warren. The consequence was that the poor rabbits had taken the sportsmen, including the Emperor, for the purveyors of their daily cabbage, and had flung themselves on them with all the more eagerness that they had not been fed that day. The laughter which this revelation elicited may be guessed, also the way in which it added to Berthier’s despair. In his shame and confusion, regretting the ridicule even more than the fact, he vowed, a little late in the day, that he would not be taken in again.
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