BLUCHER'S BIRTHDAY.
Two months had elapsed since the great battle of Leipsic, during
which, to Blucher's unbounded despair, much had been spoken, much
negotiated, many schemes devised, but nothing done. Owing to the
slowness of the allies, Napoleon had succeeded, aside from some
unfortunate engagements during the retreat, in safely returning with
the remnant of his army to France; and this dilatory system of the
allies seemed to be constantly adopted. The armies advanced slowly,
or not at all. For weeks the headquarters had been at Frankfort-on-
the-Main. There were the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, the
crown prince of Sweden, and Prince Schwartzenberg as representative
of the Emperor of Austria, besides Metternich and Hardenberg, and
the whole army of diplomatists, who deemed it incumbent on them to
put an end with their pens to this war which the swords of the
generals had concluded by a victory. The peace party were
incessantly intent on gaining the allies at headquarters over to
their side, and the crown prince of Sweden and Prince Metternich
stood at their head. Bernadotte cautioned the allies against the
dangers in which an invasion of France would involve them;
Metternich deemed it more advisable for them to conclude an
advantageous peace with the angry lion Napoleon. Blucher kept
murmuringly away from the headquarters, and stayed with his staff at
Hochst, near his troops.
It was the 16th of December. The field-marshal was alone in his
room, and sat on the sofa, in his comfortable military cloak,
smoking his morning pipe. Before him lay a map of Germany, on which
he fixed his eyes, and across which he eagerly moved his fingers
from time to time, drawing lines here and there, and apparently
conceiving plans of operation. The door opened, and Pipe-Master
Hennemann walked in.--In full gala-uniform, holding both hands
behind him, he stood at the door, hoping that his field-marshal
would see and ask him what he wanted. But Blucher did not look up;
he was absorbed in studying his map. Christian Hennemann, therefore,
ventured to interrupt him. "Field-marshal," he said, in a low and
timid voice, "I--"
"Well, what do you want, Christian?" asked Blucher, lifting his eyes
from the map. "What is the matter? Why do you wear your gala-
uniform, and look as if you were about to go on parade? Have you
become a Catholic in this Catholic country, Christian, and are you
celebrating a saint's holiday?"
"Yes, field-marshal," said Christian, resolutely stepping forward,
"I am celebrating the holiday of my saint, and his name is Blucher!"
"He is a queer saint," cried Blucher, laughing. "But what does it
all mean, Christian?"
"It means, field-marshal, that this is your birthday, and that you
are seventy-one years old to-day."
"That is true," said Blucher to himself. "My birthday! I had given
strict orders not to celebrate it, and I had forgotten it myself!"
"But no one can prevent me from celebrating it, your excellency!"
exclaimed Christian. "That would be very pretty, if I could not
congratulate my 'Marshal Forward' on his birthday. Long live my
field-marshal! And may God spare him many years to us yet, that we
may catch Bonaparte at Paris; for, if 'Marshal Forward' does not do
it, no one will!"
"Yes, if they would only let me!" cried Blucher, striking with his
hand on the table; "but they will not! I am sitting here like a pug-
dog in a deal box, and Bonaparte stands outside; I can only bark--I
cannot bite him, for they will not let me out."
"They will have to, your excellency," said Hennemann, quickly, "and
before many pipes are smoked. But I would request your excellency to
be so kind as to smoke this pipe." He drew forth his right hand,
which he had held behind him, and produced a short pipe, neatly
adorned with a rose-colored ribbon terminating in a rosette with two
long ends. "Field-marshal," he said, "in return for all the favors
you have conferred on me, a poor boy, and for having made me, a
stupid peasant-lad, pipe-master of the famous Field-Marshal Blucher,
I take the liberty of presenting you with this short pipe." And
making a polite obeisance, he handed it to the general, who took it
smilingly, and was about to reply, but Christian added, in a louder
voice, "But your excellency must not think that this is a common
pipe. In the first place, it is not made of clay."
"No," said Blucher, contemplating it; "the small tube is made of
wood, and mounted with silver, sure enough; the bowl is carved out
of wood, too, and there is another bowl inside."
"But it is no common wood, your excellency," said Christian,
solemnly. "You remember that I requested a furlough immediately
after the battle of Leipsic, and said I would go home, see my dear
Mecklenburg again, and visit my brothers and sisters. Well, that was
not my principal object; there was another reason why I wanted to
go. I have never forgotten what my General Blucher said when I first
came to him, and what he told us of his mutting--that he still loved
her. Well, I thought it would gladden the field-marshal's heart to
have a little souvenir of his mother. And, therefore, I wended my
way to Rastow, where my dear field-marshal's mother is buried. I
went to her grave, said my prayers, and then cut off a branch from
the linden which stands on her grave. Like every other son of
Mecklenburg, you ought to have a souvenir of your mutting. Here it
is. The tube and the bowl of the pipe I carved out of the branch cut
from the linden, and, that you might know what it is, I cut these
letters in the wood. Read, sir."
"Sure enough, there are letters on it," cried Blucher. "They say
'Souvenir of Mutting!'"
"Yes, that it is," said Christian; "you know, with us, those who
love their mother call her as you did, and therefore I offer you
this souvenir."
"Christian," said Blucher, in a tremulous voice, "that was well
done, and I can tell you that you give me great joy, and that I
shall not forget your kindness. This shall be my gala-pipe, and I
will smoke it on gala-days only, that is to say, when we go into
battle. I thank you a thousand times, Christian, my boy, and if my
dear mutting has not forgotten me, she will look down upon her boy
to-day, who is seventy-one years old, and it will gladden her to
know that he has now a memorial of her--and from her grave! You were
on her grave, then, Christian? How does it look?"
"It was decked with flowers, your excellency, and finches and larks
were chirping in the large linden overshadowing it. The old grave-
digger told me the linden had been planted on the day when Madame
von Blucher was buried, and it was quite a small twig at that time."
"Yes, that is the course of things," said Blucher, mournfully; "when
I saw my mother last, she was a handsome lady, and I was a boy of
sixteen. I have not felt that so many years have elapsed since then,
and I feel myself still as active as a lad. But they tell me I am
decrepit, and that there is but a step between me and the grave."
"Well, I should like to see the giant who could cross that step,"
cried Christian; "a hundred thousand French corpses and Bonaparte's
overturned throne lie in that step between you and the grave."
Blucher laughed. "You are a good boy, pipe-master, and in honor of
you I will smoke the new pipe to-day. Fill and light it; I will--who
knocks there?--Open the door, Christian."
"It is I, your excellency," said General Gneisenau, who entered the
room. "You must not refuse to see me. It is true, you have forbidden
any celebration, serenade, or congratulation; but you must not turn
me from your door; for you know that I love you like a son, and
therefore you must permit me to come and wish myself joy that Field-
Marshal Blucher still lives for the welfare of Germany."
Blucher kindly shook hands with him. "Would that you were right,
Gneisenau, and that I really lived for the welfare of Germany! But
the gentlemen at headquarters need me no longer. I am once more a
nuisance and a stumbling-block--I am, according to them, the old
madcap again--the rash hussar, just because I shout, 'We must
advance upon Paris!' while the trubsalsspritzen [Footnote: A
favorite expression of Blucher when he alluded to the timid
diplomatists who advised the allies to make peace with Napoleon.]
are croaking all the time, 'We must make peace! If we go to France,
we are lost!' Gneisenau, if this state of affairs goes on for any
length of time, this will be my last birthday, for I shall die of
anger. I know if we make peace, the blood shed has been in vain, and
our victories in vain; and in a few years, when he has recovered
from his losses, Bonaparte will commence the same game, and we shall
have to pass through the same series of disastrous events. But they
are destitute of courage. Bernadotte does not want us to hurt the
French, and the Emperor of Austria desires to spare his dear son-in-
law, and they are besieging our king and the Emperor Alexander in
such a vigorous manner, that they are at a loss what to do."
"And what should we be here for?" inquired Gneisenau, smiling. "What
would Field-Marshal Blucher be here for, if we do not march forward?
No, the gentlemen who are so desirous of making peace are greatly
mistaken if they believe that they are able to set at naught our
successes, and that it depends on their will only to make peace or
war. The wheel that is to crush Napoleon is in motion, and no human
hand can arrest it. Let the trubsalsspritzen, as your excellency
says, croak: public opinion in Germany and throughout Europe speaks
louder, and it clamors for war, and we shall have it. For this
reason your excellency ought not to despond, nor prevent us from
celebrating your birthday in a worthy manner. Your whole army longs
to present its congratulations to you, and the officers of York's
corps, who intended to give your excellency a ball to-night, and had
so confidently counted upon your consent that they had already made
all arrangements, are in despair because you did not accept their
invitation. General York himself is quite vexed at your refusal, and
thinks you decline because you do not wish to meet him."
"I do not care if he is vexed, old curmudgeon that he is!" cried
Blucher. "He must always have something to grumble at, and has often
enough said very hard things about me. Let him do so again, for
aught I care! I shall, nevertheless, not go to the ball. What should
I do there? Merry I cannot be, for my indignation almost stifles my
heart, and, instead of smiling on people, I would rather show them
my fist. Ah, Gneisenau, men are mean and contemptible, after all,
and those at headquarters are the most despicable! They want peace!
Do you comprehend that, Gneisenau--peace! now that we are on the
road to Paris, and only need make up our minds to destroy the power
of our enemy! Oh, it is enough to make a fellow swear! To the
gallows with all the trubsalsspritzen!--all the old women who are
wearing uniforms, and who, in place of cocked hats, should rather
put nightcaps on their heads!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Gneisenau, smiling, "should they do so, your
excellency would tear off their nightcaps, and forcibly put their
hats again on their heads. And as for the old women, Blucher, the
young hero, will in the end rout them all, and drive them from the
field."
"Ah, Gneisenau, if I succeed in doing so, then I should be young
again, and live to see still many a birthday," sighed Blucher. "I
have conceived every thing so clearly and well--the whole plan of
the campaign was already settled in my mind! Come, Gneisenau, let me
show you all on the map, and then you will have to admit that
Napoleon would be annihilated if we could carry this plan into
execution. Come, look at the map!"
Gneisenau stood by the side of the field-marshal, and bent over the
map lying on the table.
"See," said Blucher, eagerly, "here is Paris, here is the Rhine, and
here are we; farther below--"
"But, your excellency," interrupted Gneisenau, surprised, "you have
a very old and poor map; it is impossible to base any strategic
plans on it."
"How so?" asked Blucher, in amazement.
"Because this map is certainly incorrect, your excellency; we have
entirely new and very accurate maps now, made from the latest
surveys."
"Ah, what do I care for your surveys?" cried Blucher, impatiently.
"By your surveys, I suppose, you cannot displace the countries,
cities, and rivers? Paris remains where it is, the Rhine flows where
it has always flowed, and behind the Rhine lies Germany, where it
has always lain?"
"Yes, but you will not find on this map the towns, villages,
forests, rivers, and hills, which you will meet on your advance, and
which, if not taken into consideration, might prove formidable
obstacles."
"What do I care for the towns, villages, forests, rivers, and
hills?" replied Blucher: "I advance all the time, and that says
every thing. In the towns and villages I shall cause my troops to
take up their quarters; through the forests we shall cut a road if
there is none; we shall build bridges across the rivers, and run
over the tops of the mountains; if the field-pieces cannot be hauled
over them, we shall take them around the base. The most important
thing is, that we advance, and I am quite able to consider that on
my map here.--Now, then! here is Paris. Put your finger on Paris,
Gneisenau." The general obeyed, and pressed the tip of his
forefinger on the spot indicated. "And here," cried Blucher,
pressing his own finger on the map, "here are we, the Silesian army.
Between us lies the Rhine. Put your other finger on the Rhine,
Gneisenau." Gneisenau put his middle-finger on the black line
marking the Rhine. "Now put your little-finger down here, between
Mannheim and Kehl; there stands the army of Bohemia under Prince
Schwartzenberg; and up here, where I hold my thumb, in Holland, is
Bulow, with his corps. See, on this side, we have therefore
completely hemmed in France; and, on the other side, where the
Atlantic Ocean is--or is it no longer there on your new-fangled
maps?"
"Yes, your excellency," exclaimed Gneisenau, laughing, "it is still
there."
"Well, then, England posts her ships there; and in the south, on the
Pyrenees, stand the Spaniards, who have sworn to revenge themselves
on Bonaparte. Now we advance all at the same time into France.
Prince Schwartzenberg penetrates with his army through Switzerland;
Bulow marches through the Netherlands, after conquering them, and
joins my forces; and I cross the Rhine here in three large columns
with the Silesian army--the first column at Mannheim, the second at
Kaub, and the third--well, now I have no finger left to--"
"Here is mine, your excellency," said Gneisenau, raising the finger
marking the line of the Rhine.
But Blucher hastily pressed it down. "Do not remove that!" he cried;
"what is to become of my whole plan if that finger should desert its
position? Keep it there, then!--Well, here, where I hold my left
thumb, at Coblentz, the third column will cross the Rhine. On the
other bank we shall all unite, take Sarrebruck, advance by forced
marches upon Metz, and--"
"Your excellency," shouted the pipe-master, throwing open the door,
"a courier from the King of Prussia, from Frankfort-on-the-Main!"
"Let him come in!" cried Blucher, hastily throwing off his military
cloak, and putting on his uniform-coat. He had not yet quite done so
when the courier entered the room.
"What orders do you bring from my king and master?" inquired
Blucher, meeting the officer.
"Your excellency, his majesty King Frederick William III., and his
majesty the Emperor Alexander, request Field-Marshal Blucher to
repair immediately to Frankfort, where the monarchs have an
important communication to make to the field-marshal. They wish your
excellency to start forth-with, in order to reach Frankfort as soon
as possible."
"Inform their majesties that I shall be there in two hours.--Well,
Gneisenau, what do you say now?" asked Blucher, when the courier
left the room.
"I say that the monarchs have at length discovered who alone can
give them efficient assistance and valuable advice, and that they
have, therefore, applied to Field-Marshal Blucher."
"And I tell you," shouted Blucher, in a thundering voice, "that the
monarchs send for me to inform me that we are to face about and go
home. If it were any thing else, they would have sent me word by an
officer; but, as it is, they are afraid lest I grow furious, and so
they intend to inform me in the mildest possible manner of their
decision, and wish to pat my cheeks tenderly while telling me of it.
But they mistake; I shall tell them the truth, as I would any one
else, and they shall see that it is all the same to me whether they
have a crown on their heads or a forage-cap; the truth must out, and
they shall hear it, as sure as my name is Blucher! But I must dress
for the occasion--it shall be a gala-day for me. With my orders on
my breast, and the emperor's sword of honor at my side, I will
appear before them and tell them the truth."