Say, Ladies, by the Gods above,
Why, with such fond officious love,
Ye haste to spoil that Man of Glory,
Old Blücher, doomed to live in Story?
Why should he dread the peaceful plain,
Whom War and dust assailed in vain?
Why should the Veteran fear to ride
On horseback at his Monarch's side;
Or, if he chance to take a drive,
Take chances to return alive?
Cleaves he the Thames? 'tis said, for him
The Ladies all will learn to swim!
Though, cat-like, ev'ry mother's daughter
Feels strong aversion to the water.
In vain he shuns the soap or razor,
Each maid becomes mustachio-praiser.
Though vile before, in him to smoke
Is only deemed a pleasant joke;
While, strange to say, the British Fair,
For his sake, doat upon grey hair!
Why does he hide? Nay rather let him
A petticoat and mantle get him;—
In this will Blücher do no more
Than what Achilles did before;
Whom, though in other things outdone,
He might well imitate in one.
Thus may he safely pass along,
Unheeded, through the female throng;
For scarce, I ween, their rapture reaches
To any worth—but worth in Breeches."
Whenever he stirred out he was mobbed, he had to undergo as much handshaking as any President of the United States of America; and really, the Caricature of "Blücher greeted by his numerous Friends in the Park," is not very much exaggerated (see p. [270]). Poor old "Vorwärts" is being prodded, and tickled, by his fair friends. Take another instance. On the 24th of June, he visited Portsmouth, in company with the Allied Sovereigns; but his friends (?) pursued him there. Here is a contemporaneous account of how his friends treated him. "After the amusements of the day had closed, with the setting sun, an event occurred, which gave fresh life to the town. A Coach, drawn by eight horses, drew up at the Crown Inn, or Clarence Hotel, and, who should alight but the gallant Blücher. He was identified on alighting from the Carriage, and on no occasion in London, were the populace more numerous; the eagerness to grasp his hand, by both sexes, was unparalleled. 'Blücher! Blücher!' filled the air. 'Shew me the Conqueror of the Tyrant:' 'Come forward, Blücher!' was exclaimed on all sides. The gallant veteran appeared at the window with his accustomed cheerfulness, and the air was rent with applause; and it was several minutes before the disputants could agree whether immediate silence was respectful. Lungs carried the day, and, when the roar was out, the General, in English, with a bumper in his hand, drank to the health of the Company. It may easily be imagined in what manner this toast was returned.
"The populace became appeased, and soon after a Carriage drew up, and was immediately surrounded. Blücher got into it in haste. A party of sailors shoved in, and swore they would be true to a good Commander. Up mounted half a dozen; but, at this time, an escort of dragoons, previously stopped by the crowd, and, consequently kept back, appeared. Some got off by accident, but two kept their stations. The Government House was a few hundred yards distant, and the two sailors, elated as Men of War's men by victory, danced on the top of Blücher's Carriage."
"When Blücher was told that, to add to his store,
The Regent an Order design'd,
He said, 'I'm with Orders so cover'd, before,
I only can hang it behind.'
Sir Charles,[21] ever ready, due homage to pay,
Thus answer'd the vet'ran, 'If so,
Then all who have heard of thy actions will say
It ne'er can be hit by the foe.'"
He was an inveterate gambler, but, on the principle that "dog does not eat dog," whenever he played with the officers of his own staff, he always returned them the money he won from them: but he gave one of them, a Prussian Count, a lesson. Having won some £3,000 from him, he sent for him next morning, and read him a lecture on the folly of play, instancing himself as an example, ingrained, through the practice of a lifetime, and he ended his jobation by telling his sub. that he would return him his money, on condition that he would promise never to lose more than a, comparatively speaking, nominal sum a night. This the young man promised, and Blücher handed him half his losses, keeping the other half sealed up for a twelvemonth, when it might be had on application, if the promise had been kept.
Captain Gronow, does not give a pleasant picture of Blücher. "Marshal Blücher, though a very fine fellow, was a very rough diamond, with the manners of a Common Soldier. On his arrival in Paris, he went every day to the Salon, and played the highest stakes at rouge et noir. The Salon, during the time that the Marshal remained in Paris, was crowded by persons who came to see him play. His manner of playing was anything but gentlemanlike, and when he lost, he used to swear in German at everything that was French, looking daggers at the Croupiers. He generally managed to lose all he had about him, also the money his servant, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, carried. I recollect looking attentively at the manner in which he played; he would put his right hand into his pocket, and bring out several rouleaus of Napoleons, throwing them on the red or the black. If he won the first coup, he would allow it to remain; but when the Croupier stated that the table was not responsible for more than ten thousand francs, then Blücher would roar like a lion, and rap out oaths in his native language, which would doubtless have met with great success at Billingsgate, if duly translated; fortunately, they were not heeded, as they were not understood by the lookers-on."
The Hon. Grantley F. Berkeley[22] says "So madly in love with old Blücher were the English populace, that, during a review, while one mob was following the heels of the late Lord Londonderry, and another the heels of Blücher, so that it was impossible for either hero even to sneeze in private, both chanced to do the same thing. Blücher was vociferously cheered for it, and Lord Londonderry hissed and hooted—so much for the worth of popular worship.... Nothing could be more remarkable than the perfect understanding that existed between him and his admirers, considering that he knew not a word of what was said to him, and they found his German quite as unintelligible as their English. It was not then the fashion to bore remarkable people for their autographs or photographs. His new friends, too, were not aware that his signature was even more difficult to make out than his remarks; they, therefore, rested content with the honour of a grip from the old soldier, and talked of it ever after, in the family circle, as the greatest honour that could have befallen them.... The favour with which the Emperor was regarded was extended to his uncouth Cossacks, which not even their filching and swallowing the oil from the street lamps—gas then not having come into use—affected in any material degree."
