The Intrepid Rabbits Turned the Emperor's Flank

In which, almost exactly 200 years apart, some Germans are menaced by cats; and some Frenchmen are menaced by rabbits.

What Happened Last Week, Then?

In ancient prophesy it was foretold:

Well, look, let’s give it a shot and see what happens. There’s a considerable chance I do it for four weeks, then once more, apologetically, about a month later, and then never again.

In fact, it was three weeks, and this is the apologetic one, a fortnight later. On balance, is that better or worse? Mildly better, I think. Anyway, let’s face it, there will definitely be weeks like last week, when deadlines bite, and I’m too busy to do this. I’m not sure yet whether that means I should make this fortnightly; or keep it weekly, but sometimes skip a week when I have to. Let’s try the second policy for now, and see how it goes.

Take Away The Cats

You know how occasionally a certain type of person will wonder aloud why no-one had any allergies when he was a boy? Or where all the allergic people were before allergies were invented, sorry, she means ‘discovered’? Well, here are some of them, in a bestiary published in 1608:

If this is hard to read, click for bigger. It’s also transcribed in the alt text.

Take Away The Rabbits

As a little Easter treat, shall we remember the time all those rabbits attacked Napoleon? It’s not a very obscure story (how could it be? It involves Napoleon being attacked by rabbits) so I know some people reading this will already know about it. But I also know some people won’t, and those people deserve to.

Of course, it sounds far too good to be true, but it does seem like it might actually have happened. We only have one account of it, admittedly, and no doubt it was exaggerated in the telling, but it’s a reputable, named, first-hand source: the memoirs of Baron Thiébault, one of Napoleon’s generals. That’s good enough, surely? Let’s say it is.

Napoleon is asking you, politely, but for absolutely the last time, to stop asking him about the rabbits.

So. According to Thiébault, (or to his friends, plain old Paul Charles François Adrien Henri Dieudonné) in 1807 Napoleon’s aide-de-camp, Alexandre Berthier, invited the emperor to his estate for a rabbit shoot. Napoleon accepted, and Berthier, keen to make the occasion go with a rabbit-y swing, ordered a thousand extra rabbits to be delivered and released on his land.

(Pause here to admit Thiébault didn’t like Berthier, so maybe this is all a shaggy dog story to make Berthier look silly. But maybe it’s not, ok?)

But how can I tell it or be believed?

Asks PCFAHDT, very much putting his finger on the problem. Still, he carries on bravely. When the shooting party appeared, he tells us:

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.

Is the best word in that sentence ‘phalanx’ or ‘flung’? Probably flung. Please let it be true. The rabbits, Paul Charles and so on continues, were initially repelled...

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.

But why would they do that? The answer to this, as to so many of life’s questions, is ‘Because they thought Napoleon was bringing them cabbage.’

It only remains to explain the phenomenon, and all was revealed as soon as it was known that Berthier's emissary, not aware 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.

Ok, ok, I don’t really think a whole phalanx of rabbits, in three bodies to right and left, attacked Napoleon frantically in the rear. But I do think there’s a very good chance that… let’s say, a couple of dozen or so domesticated rabbits ran towards the shooting party expecting to be fed, and spooked them. Let me have that. Happy Easter.

“No, sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. But then, we do vanquish a lot of emperors.”

Ad Break

There are two try-out nights of material for Souvenir Programme left, and tickets are available here. The last one’s almost sold out, but not quite. The other one’s tomorrow, and is the ideal Easter Sunday evening out for someone who doesn’t care at all about Easter.

And if you would like to enter into the draw for actual tickets for the BBC recording, on the 22nd April, then you can do that here.

Commentary Box

Re Orwell’s rejection of Animal Farm, Pjohn says:

So I've always thought the moral of Animal Farm was that more public-spirited pigs and more/better communism are both effectively unattainable because power is just so super-corruptive.

My question is: did I misunderstand Animal Farm (and Orwell actually was arguing for more/better communism as Eliot implies) or did T.S. Eliot misunderstand Animal farm (and I was right)?

Well, what’s happened here of course is that I was massively unfair to TS Eliot, by only quoting a bit of his letter out of context. Reading the whole thing, you realise it’s not a Decca-rejecting-the-Beatles situation: he knows it’s good, but his not-unreasonable question is, is it so good that it justifies publishing a scathing attack, in the depths of a world war, on our most important ally?

Having said that, I do agree with Pjohn that the ‘more public-spirited pigs’ line, even carefully framed as a criticism someone else might make, doesn’t really hold water. In the world of the book, surely ‘more public-spirited pigs’ and ‘more Communism’ are ways of saying the same thing, namely: ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.’ At any rate, there’s no way Orwell didn’t think the USSR needed more public-spirited Stalins.

Vanessa wishes me a happy Birling Day, and asks if my newsletter coming out on the final of the six nations cup can be a coincidence. If she thinks back to what a pig’s ear I made of the rugby references in the first Birling Day episode, she will probably conclude that it definitely can. But still, a very Happy Rugby to those who celebrate.

Hannah Sto Helit asks if I and/or JFSP will be performing anywhere in August or September. To which the answer is an enthusiastic but utterly unhelpful ‘Maybe!’ But now I’m more or less off Twitter, if and when I have news, this will be the best place to find it.

Sketch Book

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The Airport