t of political suicide.

Yet, for some weeks, Frederick William waited on events; and these
events decided for war, not against Russia, but against France. The
Prussian Chancellor, Hardenberg, did his best to hoodwink the French
at Berlin, and quietly to play into the hands of the ardent German
patriots. After publishing an official rebuke to Yorck, he secretly
sent Major Thile to reassure him. He did more: in order to rescue the
King from French influence, still paramount at Berlin, he persuaded
him to set out for Breslau, on the pretext of raising there another
contingent for service under Napoleon. The ruse completely succeeded:
it deceived the French ambassador, St. Marsan: it fooled even Napoleon
himself. With his now invariable habit of taking for granted that
events would march according to his word of command, the Emperor
assumed that this was for the raising of the corps of 30,000 men which
he had requested Frederick William to provide, and said to Prince
Hatzfeld (January 29th): "Your King is going to Breslau: I think it a
timely step." Such was Napoleon's frame of mind, even after he heard
of Yorck's convention with the Russians. That event he considered "the
worst occurrence that could happen." Yet neither that nor the
patriotic ferment in Prussia reft the veil from his eyes. He still
believed that the Prussians would follow their King, and that the King
would obey him. On February the 3rd he wrote to Maret, complaining
that 2,000 Prussian horsemen were shutting themselves up in Silesian
towns, "as if they were afraid of us, instead of helping us and
covering their country."

Once away from Berlin, Frederick William found himself launched on a
resistless stream of national enthusiasm. At heart he was no less a
patriot than the most ardent of the university students; but he knew
far better than they the awful risks of war with the French Empire.
His little kingdom of 4,700,000 souls, with but half-a-dozen
strongholds it could call its own, a realm ravaged by Napoleon's
troops alike in war and peace until commerce and credit were but a dim
memory--such a land could ill afford to defy an empire ten times as
populous and more than ten times as powerful. True, the Russians were
pouring in under the guise of friendship; but the bitter memories of
Tilsit forbade any implicit trust in Alexander. And, if the dross had
been burnt out of his nature by a year of fiery trial, could his army,
exhausted by that frightful