of the viceroy, and his possession of “the full confidence of the Emperor.”  Eugene succeeded to the command at the moment when it was obvious that Frederick William could no longer, even if he would, repress the universal enthusiasm of his people.  On the 31st of January, the King made his escape to Breslau, in which neighbourhood no French were garrisoned, erected his standard, and called on the nation to rise in arms.  Whereon Eugene retired to Magdeburg, and shut himself up in that great fortress, with as many troops as he could assemble to the west of the Elbe.

Six years had elapsed since the fatal day of Jena; and, in spite of all the watchfulness of Napoleon’s tyranny, the Prussian nation had recovered in a great measure its energies.  The people now answered the call of their beloved prince, as with the heart and voice of one man.  Youths of all ranks, the highest and the lowest, flocked indiscriminately to the standard:  the students of the universities formed themselves into battalions, at the head of which, in many instances, their teachers marched.  The women flung their trinkets into the king’s treasure—­the gentlemen melted their plate—­England poured in her gold with a lavish hand.  The rapidity with which discipline was established among the great levies thus assembled, excited universal astonishment.  It spoke the intense and perfect zeal with which a people, naturally warlike, had devoted themselves to the sacred cause of independence.  The Emperor of Russia was no sooner aware of this great movement, than he resolved to advance into Silesia.  Having masked several French garrisons in Prussian Poland, and taken others, he pushed on with his main army to support Frederick William.  There was some risk in leaving a considerable number of hostile fortresses behind him and his own frontier; but this he encountered cheerfully, rather than permit the Prussians to stand alone in the first onset of Napoleon, of whose extensive preparations all Europe was well aware.  The two sovereigns, long attached to each other by the warmest feelings of personal friendship, though of late compelled by the iron force of circumstances to put on the disguise of hostility, met at Breslau on the 15th of March.  Tears rushed down the cheeks of Frederick William, as he fell into the arms of Alexander—­“Wipe them,” said the Czar; “they are the last that Napoleon shall ever cause you to shed.”

The aged Kutusoff having died, the command of the Russian army was now given to Witgenstein; while that of the Prussians was entrusted to a leader, whose name was hailed as the sure pledge of unremitting activity and indomitable perseverance.  This was Blucher, an officer originally trained under the great Frederick, whose exemplary conduct after the battle of Jena has already been mentioned.  The brave old man had, since that catastrophe, lived in utter retirement.  The soldiery had long before bestowed on him the nom-de-guerre of Marshal Forwards, and they heard of his