Category Archives: Field-Marshal Blücher


Adolf Ludwig Follen: “Blücher’s Ball”

In the battle of Katzbach, which was fought on the 26th of August, 1813, the Russians and Prussians, under the command of the veteran Field-marshal Blücher, defeated the French, who were led by Macdonald, Ney, Lauriston and Sabastiani, and were driven pell-mell into the Katzbach.Skirmishes had previously taken place at Goldberg and Jauer.The day of the battle was rainy, and the soldiers fought with clubbed muskets.The poet represents the scene as a ball, under the direction of old Blücher, who had received, from his vigor and promptitude, the name of “Marshal Forward.”

battle_of_katzbach_by_kleina

Battle of Katzbach – Klein, 1825

BLÜCHER’S BALL

By the Katzbach, by the Katzbach, ha!

There was a merry dance;

Wild and weird and whirling waltzes skipped

Ye through, ye knaves of France!

 

For there struck the great bass-viol

An old German man famed,

Marshal Forward, Prince of Wallstadt,

Gebhardt Lebrecht von Blücher named.

 

Up! The Blücher hath the ball-room

Lighted with the cannon’s glare!

Spread yourselves, ye gay, green carpets,

That the dancing moistens there!

 

And his fiddle-bow at first he waved

With Goldberg and with Jauer;

Whew!  He’s drawn it now full length,

His play a stormy northern shower!

 

Ha!  The dance went briskly onward,

Tingling madness seized them all;

As when howling, mighty tempests

On the arms of windmills fall.

 

But the old man wants it cheery,

Wants a pleasant dancing chime;

And with gun-stocks clearly, loudly,

Beats the old Teutonic time.

 

Say, who, standing by the old man,

Strikes so hard the kettle-drum,

And, with crushing strength of arm,

Down lets the thundering hammer come?

 

Gneisenau, the gallant champion:

Alemannia’s envious foes

Smites the mighty pair, her living double-eagle,

Shivering blows.

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Ernst Moritz Arndt: “Field-Marshal Blücher”

Excerpt, ” German Literature. Translated from the German of Wolfgang Menzel.” By C.C. Felton. 1840.
This patriotic writer was born 1769 at Schoritz in Rügen. Toward the end of the last century, he distinguished himself as a traveler, and by his published observations on Sweden, Italy, France, Germany, Hungary, etc. In 1806, he was appointed Professor Extraordinary of Philosophy at Greifswald. He was a vehement lover of liberty, and, though at first a favorer of Napoleon, became one of his bitterest opponents, as soon as he comprehended his designs of conquest.
A work published by him called “The Spirit of the Age” went rapidly through several editions, excited universal attention by the boldness of his attacks on Napoleon, and made it necessary for him to take refuge in Stockholm, whence he was unable to return until 1813. His writings which flowed in rapid succession exercised an immense influence upon the popular feeling.
Arndt is one of the most vigorous, animated and eloquent of the German writers. His prose works have had an extraordinary circulation and effect. His patriotic and popular poems and his war-songs are of distinguished excellence. They were published at Frankfort in 1815 and again at Leipsic in 1840.

 The-Meeting-Of-The-Duke-Of-Wellington-And-Field-Marshal-Blucher-On-The-Evening-Of-The-Victory-Of-Waterloo-At-La-Belle-Alliance

Victory at Waterloo: Duke of Wellington and Field-Marshal Blücher.

Field-Marshal Blücher

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Why are the trumpets blowing?  Ye hussars, away!

‘T is the Field-Marshal rideth, with flying fray;

He rideth so joyous his mettlesome steed,

He swingeth so keenly his bright-flashing blade!

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His oath he hath redeemed; when the battle cry rang.

Ha! The old boy! How to saddle he sprang!

It was he who led off the last dance of the ball;

With besom of iron he swept clean the hall!

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At Lützen, on the mead, there he struck such a blow,

That end with the fright stood the hair of the foe,

That thousands ran off with hurrying tread,

Ten thousand slept soundly the peace of the dead!

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At Katzbach, by the stream, he there played his part;

He taught you, O Frenchmen, the swimmer’s good art!

Farewell to you, Frenchmen, away to the waves!

And take, ye sans-culottes, the whales for your graves!

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At Wartburg, on the Elbe, how before him all yielded!

Nor fortress nor castle the Frenchmen shielded;

Again they must spring like hares o’er the field,

And the hero’s hurrah after them pealed.

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At Leipsic, on the mead, – O, honor’s glorious fight!

There he shattered the fortunes of France and her might;

There lie they all safely, since so hardly they fell;

And there the old Blücher played the field-marshal well.

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