While he was guiding his steps solely by the light of past experience, events were occurring that heralded the dawn of a new era for Central Europe.  On the 30th of December, the Prussian General Yorck, who led the Prussian corps serving previously under Macdonald in Courland, concluded the Convention of Tauroggen with the Russians, stipulating that this corps should hold the district around Memel and Tilsit as neutral territory, until Frederick William’s decision should be known.  Strictly considered, this convention was a grave breach of international law and an act of treachery towards Napoleon.  The King at first viewed it in that light; but to all his subjects it seemed a noble and patriotic action.  To continue the war with Russia for the benefit of Napoleon would have been an act 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.