Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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"And I got my discharge," exclaimed Blucher, quite absorbed in his
reminiscences, "and became a Prussian soldier. Good, brave Colonel
Belling bought me the necessary equipment, and appointed me his
aide-de-camp and lieutenant. The Lord have mercy on his dear soul!
Belling was an excellent man, and I am indebted to him for all I
am."

"No, general," said Hennemann, "it is to me that you are indebted,
for if I had not taken you prisoner at that time--"

"Sure enough," exclaimed Blucher, laughing, "if you had not taken me
prisoner, I should now be a poor old pensioned Swedish veteran. But
you certainly took me prisoner, I really believe you did!"

"I have the proofs that I did," said the old man solemnly.
"Christian!"

"Here I am, vatting," said Christian, rising. "What do you want?"

"Give me the memorandum-book with the papers."

Christian drew from his blue coat a red morocco memorandum-book and
handed it to his father. "Here, vatting," he said, "every thing is
in it, the certificate of birth, the enlistment paper, the
discharge, and the other thing."

"I just want to get the other thing," said the old man, opening the
memorandum-book, "and here it is!" He took out a yellow piece of
cloth and handed it to Blucher.

"It is a piece of my sleeve!" exclaimed Blucher, joyously, holding
up the piece of cloth. "Yes, Hennemann, it was really you who took
me prisoner, and I am indebted to you for being a Prussian general
to-day! And I promise you that I will now pay you a good ransom.
Give me your hand, old fellow; we ought to remain near each other.
Fifty-two years since you took me prisoner, but now I take you
prisoner in turn, and you must remain with me; you shall live at
ease, and at times in the evening you must tell me of Mecklenburg,
and how it looks there, and of Rostock, and--well, and when you are
in good spirits, you must sing to me a Low-German song!"

"Mercy!" exclaimed the old man, in dismay; "I cannot sing, general.
I am eighty years old, and old age has dried up the fountain of my
song."

"Sure enough, you are eighty years old," said Blucher, puffing his
pipe, "and at that age few persons are able to sing. But I should
really like to hear again a merry native song. I have not heard one
for fifty years, for here, you see, Hennemann, people are so stupid
and ignorant as not even to understand Low-German."

"I believe that," said the old man, gravely, "and it is not so easy
to understand--one must he a native of Mecklenburg to understand
it."

"It is a pity that you cannot sing," said Blucher, sighing.

"But, perhaps Christian can," said old Hennemann. "Tell me,
Christian, can you sing?"

"Yes, vatting," replied Christian, clearing his throat.

"'Vatting!'" exclaimed Blucher. "What does that mean?"

"Well, it means that he loves his father, and therefore calls him,
in good Mecklenburg style, 'vatting.'"

"Sure enough, I remember now," exclaimed Blucher. "Vatting! mutting!
[Footnote: "Mutting," mamma] Yes, yes; I have often used these
words, 'mutting--my mutting!' Ah, it seems to me as though I behold
the beautiful blue eyes of my mother when she looked at me so mildly
and lovingly and said, 'You are a wild, reckless boy, Gebhard; I am
afraid you will come to grief!' Then I used to beg her, 'My mutting,
my mutting! I will no longer be a bad boy! I will not be naughty! Do
not be angry any more, my mutting!' And she always forgave me, and
interceded for me with my father, whenever he was incensed against
me, and scolded me, because, instead of studying my books and going
to school, I was always loitering about the fields or hunting in the
woods. At last, when I was fourteen years old, and was still an
incorrigible scapegrace, they sent me to the island of Rugen, to my
sister, who was married to Baron von Krackwitz. But I did not stay
there very long. The Swedes came to the island, and I could not
withstand the desire to become a soldier; therefore, I ran away from
the island and enlisted in the Swedish army. Well, I had to do so, I
could not help it, for it was in my nature. Up to that time I was
like a fish on dry land, moving his tail in every direction without
crushing a fly; when I got into the water it was all right. If I had
been kept much longer out, I would have died very soon [Footnote:
Blucher's own words]. When I was now in the water--that is to say,
when I was a soldier, I lost my mother; I never saw her again, and
know only that she wept a great deal for me. And I never was able to
beg her to forgive me, and tell her, 'Do not be angry, my dear
mutting!' I was a dashing young soldier, and she was weeping for me
at Rostock, for she believed I would come to grief. Well, I was
first lieutenant in some Prussian fortress when they wrote to me
that my mother was dead. Yes, she had died and I was not at her
bedside; I was never able to say to her for the last time, 'Forgive
me, my mutting!' But now I say so from the bottom of my heart."
While uttering these words, Blucher raised his head and fixed his
large eyes with a touching and childlike expression on the wintry
sky.

Old Hennemann devoutly clasped his hands, and tears ran slowly down
his furrowed cheeks. Christian stood at the door, and dried his eyes
with his coat-sleeve.

"Thunder and lightning," suddenly exclaimed Blucher, "how foolish I
am! That is the consequence of being absorbed in one's
recollections. While talking about Mecklenburg I had really
forgotten that I am an old boy of seventy years, and thought I was
still the naughty young rascal who longed to ask his mutting to
forgive him! Well, Christian, now sing us a Low-German song."

"I know but one song," said Christian, hesitatingly. "It is the
spinning-song which my Frederica sang to me in the spinning-room."

"Well, sing your spinning-song," said Blucher, looking at his pipe,
which was going out.

Christian cleared his throat, and sang:

Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt lewes Dochting,
Ick schenk Di ock'n poor hubsche Schoh!
Ach Gott, min lewes, lewes Mutting,
Wat helpen mi de hubschen Schoh!
Kann danzen nich, un kann nich spinnen.
Denn alle mine teigen Finger,
De dohn mi so weh,
De dohn mi so weh!

Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt, lewes Dochting,
Ick schenk Di ock'n schon Stuck Geld.
Ach Gott, min lewes, lewes Mutting,
Ick wull, ick wihr man ut de Welt,
Kann danzen nich, un kann nich spinnen
Denn alle mine teigen Finger,
De dohn mi so weh,
De dohn mi so weh!

Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt, lewes Dochting.
Ick schenk Di ock'n bubschen Mann!
Ach ja, min lewes, lewes Mutting,
Schenk min lewsten, besten Mann.
Kann danzen nu, un kann ock spinnen,
Denn alle mine teigen Finger,
De dohn nich mihr weh,
De dohn nioh mihr weh!

[Footnote: The song is translated as follows:

Spin, spin, my little daughter, dear!
A pretty pair of shoes for thee!--
Alas, my mother! let me hear
What use are pretty shoes to me!
I cannot dance--I cannot spin:
And why these promised shoes to win!
O mother mine. I will not take
Thy kindly gift. My fingers ache!

Spin, spin, my little daughter dear!
And a bright silver-piece is thine!--
Alas, my mother's loving care
Makes not this shining money mine!
I cannot dance--I cannot spin;
What use such wages thus to win?
O mother dear! I cannot take
This silver, for my fingers ache.

Spin, spin, my little daughter dear!
For thee a handsome husband waits.--
Oh, then, my mother, have no fear;
My heart this work no longer hates.
Now can I dance, and also spin,
A handsome husband thus to win.
Thy best reward I gladly take!
No more--no more, my ringers ache.]

"A very pretty song," said Blucher, kindly. "And I believe I heard
the girls sing it when I was a boy. Thank you, Christian, you have
sung it very well. But, tell me now, old Hennemann, what is to
become of Christian? You yourself shall remain here at Kunzendorf,
and I will see to it that you are well provided for. But what about
Christian?"

"He is anxious to enlist, general," said Hennemann, timidly, "and
that is the reason why I brought him to your excellency. I wanted to
request you to take charge of him, and make out of him as good a
soldier as you are yourself."

Blucher smiled. "I have been successful," he said, "but those were
good days for soldiers. Now, however, the times are very
unfavorable; the Prussian soldier has nothing to do, and must
quietly look on while the French are playing the mischief in
Prussia."

"No, general," said Hennemann, "it seems to me the Prussian soldier
has a great deal to do."

"Well, what do you think he has to do?" asked Blucher.

"To expel the French from Prussia, that is what he has to do," said
the old man, raising his voice.

"Yes," said Blucher, smiling, "if that could be done, I should like
to be counted in."

"It can be done, general; every honest man says so, and it ought to
be, for the French are behaving too shamefully. They must be
expelled from Germany. Well, then, my Christian wishes to assist you
in doing so; he wishes to become a soldier, and help you to drive
out the French."

"Alas, he must apply to some one else if he wishes to do that," said
Blucher, mournfully. "I cannot help him, for they have pensioned me.
I have no regiments. I--but, thunder and lightning! what is the
matter with my pipe today? The thing will not burn." And he put his
little finger into the bowl, and tried to smoke again.

"The pipe does not draw well, because it was not skilfully filled,"
said Christian. "I know it was badly filled."

"Ay?" asked Blucher. "What do you know? John has been filling my
pipes for four years past."

"John has done it very poorly," said Christian, composedly. "To fill
such a clay pipe is an art with which a good many are not familiar,
and when it is smoked for the first time it does not burn very well.
It ought first to be smoked by some one, and John ought to have done
so yesterday if the general wished to use his pipe to-day."

"Why, he knows something about a clay pipe," exclaimed Blucher, "and
he is right; it always tastes better on the second day than on the
first."

"That is the reason why the second day always ought to be the first
for General Blucher," said Christian.

"He is right," exclaimed Blucher, laughing, "it would surely be
better if the second were always the first day. Well, I know now
what is to be made of Christian; he is to become my pipe-master."

"Pipe-master?" asked old Hennemann and Christian at the same time.
"Pipe-master, what is that?"

"That is a man who keeps my pipes in good order," said Blucher, with
a ludicrously grave air--"a man who makes the second my first day--
who smokes my pipes first--puts them back into the box at night,
preserves the broken ones, and fills them, however short they may
be. He who does not prize a short pipe, does not deserve to have a
long one. A good pipe and good tobacco are things of the highest
importance in life. Ah! if, in 1807, at Lubeck, I had had powder for
the guns and tobacco for my men, I would have raised such clouds
that the French could not have stood. [Footnote: Blucher's own
words.--Vide "Marshall Forward," a popular biography.] Well,
Christian, you shall therefore become my pipe-master, and I hope you
will faithfully perform the duties of your office."

"I shall certainly take pains to do so," said Christian, "and you
may depend on it, general, that I shall preserve the broken, short
pipes; I will not throw them away before it is necessary. But
suppose there should be war, general, and you should take the field,
what would become of me in that case?"

"Well, in that case you will accompany me," said Blucher. "What
should I do in the field if I could not get a good pipe of tobacco
all the time? Without that I am of no account. [Footnote: Blucher's
own words.] But it is necessary to do good service for Prussia, and
hence I need, above all, a good pipe of tobacco in the field. Well,
then, tell me now plainly, will you accept the office I offer you in
peace and in war, Christian?"

"Yes, general," said Christian, solemnly. "And I swear that General
Blucher shall never lack a well-lighted pipe, even though I fetch a
match from the French gunners to kindle it."

"That is right, Christian; you are in my service now, and may at
once enter upon the duties of your office. You, Hennemann, stay here
and do me the favor of living as long and being as merry as
possible. Now, pipe-master, ring the bell!"

The new pipe-master rang the bell, and John entered the room.

"John!" said Blucher, "I owe a reparation of honor to this aged
hussar. It was he who took me prisoner in 1760. He brought me the
proof of it--the yellow facing of the sleeve here. Take it and
fasten it to the old uniform of Blucher, the Swedish ensign, which I
have always preserved; it belongs to it. You see that hussar
Hennemann is an honest man, and that I owe him the ransom. He will
stay here, and have nothing to do but eat and drink well, sit in the
sun, and, in the evening, when it affords him pleasure, tell you
stories of the Seven Years' War, in which he participated. If other
hussars come and tell you they took me prisoner, you know it is not
true, and need not admit them. But you must not abuse the poor old
fellows for that reason, nor tell them that they are swindlers. You
will give them something to eat and drink, a bed overnight, and, in
the morning, when they set out, a dollar for travelling expenses.
Now take the old man and his son to the adjoining building, and tell
the inspector to give them a room where they are to live. And then,"
added Blucher, hesitatingly, and almost in confusion,--"you have too
much to do, John; you must have an assistant. It takes you too much
time to fill my pipes, and this young man, therefore, will help you.
I have appointed Christian Hennemann my pipe-master. Well, do not
reply--take the two men to the building, and be good friends--do you
hear, good friends!"

John bowed in silence, and made a sign to the two Mecklenburgians to
follow him. Blucher gazed after them with keen glances. "Well, I am
afraid their friendship will not amount to much," he said, smiling
and stroking his beard. "John does not like this pipe-master
business, and will show it to Christian as soon as an opportunity
offers. I do not care if they do have a good fight. It would be a
little diversion, for it is horribly tedious here. Ah, how long is
this to last? How long am I to sit here and wait until Prussia and
the king call upon me to drive Napoleon out of the country? How long
am I to be idle while Bonaparte is gaining one victory after another
in Russia? I have not much time to spare for waiting, and--well," he
suddenly interrupted, himself, quickly stepping up to the window,
"what is that? Is not that a carriage driving into the court-yard?"
Yes, it really is, just entering the iron gate, and rolling with
great noise across the pavement. "I wonder who that is?" muttered
Blucher, casting a piercing glance into the carriage which stopped
at this moment in front of the mansion. He uttered a cry of joy, and
ran out of the room with the alacrity of a youth.

CHAPTER XI.

GLAD TIDINGS.

"It is he, it is he!" exclaimed General Blucher, rushing out of the
front door, and hastening with outstretched arms toward the
gentleman, who, wrapped in a Russian fur robe, alighted with his two
servants. "My beloved Scharnhorst!" And he clasped his friend in his
arms as if it were some longed-for mistress whom he was pressing to
his bosom.

"Blucher, my dear friend, let me go, or you will choke me!"
exclaimed Scharnhorst, laughing. "Come, let us go into the house."

"Yes, come, dearest, best friend!" said Blucher, and encircling
Scharnhorst's neck with his arm, drew him along so hastily that,
gasping for breath, the latter was scarcely able to accompany him.

On entering the sitting-room, Blucher himself divested his friend of
his fur robe, and, throwing it on the floor in his haste, took off
Scharnhorst's cap. "I must look at you, my friend," he exclaimed. "I
must see the face of my dear Scharnhorst, and now that I see it, I
must kiss it! To see you again does me as much good as a fountain in
the desert to the pilgrim dying of thirst."

"Well, but now you must allow me to say a word," said Scharnhorst.
"And let me look at yourself. Remember, it is nearly a year since I
saw anything of you but your hand-writing."

"And that is very illegible," said Blucher, laughing.

"It is at least not as legible and intelligible as your dear face,"
said Scharnhorst. "Here, on this forehead and in these eyes, I can
read quickly and easily all that your excellent head thinks, and
your noble heart feels. And now I read there that I am really
welcome, and need not by any means apologize for not having
announced my visit to you."

"Apologize!" exclaimed Blucher. "You know full well that you afford
me the most heart-felt joy, and that I feel as though spring were
coming with all its blessed promises."

"Well, let us not wish spring to come too early this year. We need a
good deal of ice and cold weather, to build a crystal palace for
Bonaparte in Russia."

Blucher cast a flashing glance upon his guest. "Scharnhorst," he
asked, breathlessly, "you have come to bring me important news, have
you not? Oh, pray, speak! I am sure you have come to tell me that
the time has come for rising against the French!"

"No; I have simply come to see you," said Scharnhorst, smiling. "And
you are in truth a cold-hearted friend to think any other motive was
required than that of friendship."

"I thought it was time for Providence to bring about a change. But
it was kind of you to come to me merely for my sake, and, moreover,
in weather so cold as this, and at your age."

"At my age!" exclaimed Scharnhorst, smiling.

"Why, yes, my friend, at your age. If I am not mistaken, you must be
well-nigh sixty, and at that time of life travelling in a season
like this is assuredly somewhat unpleasant, and--but why do you
laugh?"

"As you refer to my age, my dearest friend, I suppose you will
permit me to speak of yours?"

"Why not? We are no marriageable girls on the lookout for husbands."

"Well, then, my dear General Blucher, how old are yon?"

"I? I am a little over seventy."

"And I am fifty-six, and yet you think old age is weighing me down,
while a wreath of snow-drops is overhanging your brow."

"Yes, that is true," said Blucher, in confusion. "I had really
forgotten my age."

"The reason is, that your heart is still young and fresh," exclaimed
Scharnhorst, looking at him tenderly, and laying his hand on
Blucher's broad shoulder. "Thank God! you are still young Blucher,
with his fiery head and heroic arm--young Blucher whose eagle eye
gazes into the future, and who does not despair, however
disheartening the present may be."

"I am sure you have brought news," said Blucher. "I can see it in
your eyes--Heaven knows whether good or bad. But you have news, I
know it."

"No, my young firebrand," exclaimed Scharnhorst, "I bring only
myself, and this self I should like now above all to lay at the feet
of your respected wife."

"Yes, that is true," said Blucher; "in my joy I almost forgot that
my Amelia ought to share it. Come, general, let me conduct you to my
wife." He took Scharnhorst's arm and conducted him rapidly across
the sitting-room toward the apartments of Madame von Blucher. "Tread
softly; you know what an admirer of yours my wife is, and how glad
she will be to see you. We will, therefore, surprise her. She
doubtless did not notice your arrival, for her windows open upon the
garden. She does not yet know that you are here, and how glad she
will be! Hush!"

He glided to the door and rapped. "Amelia," he said, "are you there,
and may I come in?"

"Of course I am here," exclaimed Madame von Blucher, "and you know
well that I have already been looking for you for two hours past.
Come in!"

"I have a visitor with me; do you allow me to enter with him,
Amelia?"

"A visitor?" asked Madame von Blucher, opening the door. "General
von Scharnhorst!" she exclaimed, hastening to him and offering him
both her hands. "Welcome, general, and may Heaven reward you for the
idea of visiting an old woman and her young husband in their wintry
solitude. Come, general, do my room the honor of entering it." She
took the general's arm and drew him in.

"Scharnhorst," said Blucher, "let me give you some good advice. Do
not make love in too undisguised a manner to my wife, for she is
right in saying that I am still a young man, and I may become
jealous; that would be a pity! I should then have to fight a duel
with my friend, and one of us would have to die; and yet we are
destined to deliver Prussia, and to drive that hateful man Bonaparte
out of Germany."

"See, madame, what a shrewd and self-willed intriguer he is!"
exclaimed Scharnhorst. "He avails himself of the boundless adoration
I feel for you to assist him in wandering into his favorite sphere
of politics. Madame, the barbarian believes it to be altogether
impossible that I come merely from motives of friendship, and
insists that it was politics that brought me!"

"Yes," said Madame von Blucher, smiling, "Blucher loves politics, he
has no other mistress."

"No," said Blucher, laughing, "I know nothing at all about politics,
and believe the world would be better off if there were no
politicians. They originate all our troubles. Those diplomatists are
always sure to spoil what the sword has achieved. Politics have
brought all these calamities upon Germany; otherwise, we should long
since have risen against the French, instead of allowing our
soldiers to fight for Bonaparte in Russia. I say it is absurd, and I
am so angry at it that it will make me consumptive. I say all those
diplomatists ought to be sent into the field against Russia in order
to study new-fangled politics in Siberia. I say--"

"You will say nothing further about the matter, my friend, for there
is John, who wishes to tell us that dinner is ready," Madame von
Blucher interrupted her husband, who, glowing with anger, and
trembling with excitement, was fighting with his arms in the air and
with a terrible expression of countenance. "Come, general, let us go
to the dining-room," said Madame von Blucher, giving her hand to
Scharnhorst. "And you, my valorous young husband, give me your hand,
too!"

"Wait a moment," Blucher replied. "I must first give vent to my
anger, or it will choke me." At a bound, he rushed as a passionate
boy toward the sofa, and, striking it with both fists, so that the
dust rose from it in clouds, shouted: "Have I got you at length, you
horrible butcher--are you at length under my scourge? Now you shall
find out how Pomeranians whip their enemies, and what it is to treat
people as shamefully as you have done. I will whip you--yes, until
you cry, 'Pater, peccavi!' There, take that for Jena, and this blow
for compelling me to capitulate at Lubeck; and this and this for the
infamies you have perpetrated upon our beautiful queen at Tilsit!
This last blow take for the Russian treaty to which you compelled
our king to accede, and now a few more yet! If Heaven does not
strike you, Blucher must; you ought not to be left unpunished!"

"Ah, well, that is enough, my friend," exclaimed Amelia, hastening
to him and seizing his arm, which he had already raised again. "You
are very capable of destroying my sofa, and you believe that you
have gained a campaign by tearing my beautiful velvet in shreds."

"Well, yes, it is enough now, and I feel better. Well, my friend,"
he said, turning to Scharnhorst, who had witnessed his foolish
antics with a grave and mournful air, "you need not look at me in so
melancholy a manner. I suppose they have told you, too, that old
Blucher at times gets crazy, and strikes at the flies on the wall,
and beats chairs and sofas, because, in his insanity, he believes
them to be Napoleon. [Footnote: Owing to this peculiarity and the
strange ebullitions of rage in which he indulged from time to time,
Blucher was really believed to be deranged for several years
previous to the outbreak of the war of liberation.] But it is
assuredly no madness that makes me act in this manner, as stupid
fools assert, but it is simply a way in which I relieve my anger,
that it may not break my heart. It is the same as if a man who has
to fight a duel should take fencing-lessons, and practise with the
sword, in order to hit his adversary. But I have satisfied my anger,
and will again be as gentle as a lamb."

"Yes, as a lamb which reverses the order of things, and, instead of
allowing the wolf to devour it, is quite ready to devour the wolf,"
said Scharnhorst, laughing.

"Let us go to dinner, generals," cried Amelia; "but on one
condition! During the repast not a word must be said about my
hateful rival, politics, nor will you be permitted to sprinkle
Napoleon as cayenne pepper over our dishes. Blucher is too hot-
blooded, and pepper does not agree with him."

"But a glass of champagne agrees with him when a dear friend is
present," exclaimed Blucher. "Oh, John, come here! Accompany my
wife, Scharnhorst; I have only to tell John what he is to fetch from
the wine-cellar."