The Prussian Ambassador at the Court of England, wrote to Frederick the Great that his salary being insufficient, he would be compelled to sell his carriage and go to Court on foot. The King answered laconically: “You can just walk; it won’t hurt you. If anybody makes a remark about it, you can tell them you are my ambassador, and 300,000 men are walking behind you.” No Suggestions Wanted From the beginning of the War of Independence (1813-14, against Napoleon I) Field-Marshal Prince Blücher urged the allied powers to go forward (hence his name, Marshal Vorwärts) and thus created more confusion among them than among the enemy. But the old soldier did not pay the slightest attention to that. Once when he received a dispatch to turn back with his army he growled: “Those diplomatic fool tricks and this scribbling of notes will have to be stopped. I shall direct this campaign without notes.” Cobblers Lacking Once, while trying to ascertain the enemy’s whereabouts, a bullet struck Prince Blücher’s foot, but fortunately tore only his boot. “That’s bad enough,” joked Blücher, “we have a good many more doctors than cobblers with us.” Deserved a Title When presented with a Doctor’s degree at Oxford, Blücher said: “Well, now, you ought to make Gneisenau at least a druggist, for he made my pills.” The Two Moves After a hard day, Blücher was taking a few hours’ rest. An Adjutant wakened him to report: “The enemy has made a move!” “Well,” cried the Prince, “then report to the enemy that I made one too!” and with this he turned over on his other side. Another Victory Blücher was a great lover of music. His favorite pieces electrified him as often as he heard them, but of them all Mozart’s “Magic Flute” took first place. While the allies were at Aachen, Angelica Catalani, the famous singer, aroused everybody’s enthusiasm. The Emperor Alexander of Russia stood at the head of her admirers, but her acknowledged favorite was the aged Marshal Vorwärts. One evening Catalani sang at a large reception and one of her songs was Papageno’s “Ring, Little Bell, Ring.” Blücher was delighted, and asked her to sing another of Papageno’s songs, but the singer, greatly embarrassed, had to confess that she knew no other. “I can teach you,” said Blücher; “I know every aria in the ‘Magic Flute.’” “What,” cried Emperor Alexander, “Blücher can sing too? You must give us a song then!” The old soldier stood up and began in his rough voice, dreadfully out of tune, but still recognizable: “The Bird Catcher I Am.” Emperor Francis listened with visible emotion, the dignified King of Prussia smiled quietly to himself, while Emperor Alexander laughed as hard as he could and started a vigorous applause. Blücher, encouraged, sang again, and wound up with “Bacchus is a Brave Man.” The last number created such a storm of applause that Catalani said jokingly: “I can’t compete with old Blücher; he has beaten me, too; he received more applause than I did.”