The fury of my two regiments was indescribable. Every man breathed vengeance, and regretted that vengeance was almost impossible, since the Elster, with its broken bridge, lay between us and the assassins. Our rage increased when we met about 2,000 French, mostly without clothing, and nearly all wounded, who had only escaped death by leaping into the river and swimming across under the fire from the other bank. Among them was Marshal Macdonald, who owed his life to his bodily strength and his practice in swimming. He was completely naked, and his horse had been drowned. I hastily got him some clothes and lent him my led horse, which allowed him to rejoin the Emperor at once and report the disaster he had witnessed, one of the chief episodes in it being the death by drowning of Prince Poniatowski.

The remainder of the French who had crossed the river, having had to get rid of their arms in order to be able to swim, were without means of defence; they were running across the fields to escape from some 400 or 500 Prussians and others, who, not content with the bath of French blood which they had had in the town and suburbs, had laid planks across the pieces of the exploded bridge and had come over to kill such of our unhappy soldiers as they could overtake on the road to Markranstadt. When I caught sight of this band of murderers I ordered M. Schneit, colonel of the 24th, to make a combined movement with my regiment, by means of which we enclosed these brigands in a vast semicircle. Then I gave the order to sound the charge. The effect was terrible. The bandits, taken by surprise, offered only a feeble resistance, and there was a very great slaughter, for no quarter was given. So enraged was I, that before the charge I had vowed to run my sword through all who came within my reach. Yet when I was in the thick of them and saw that they were drunk, in disorder, and with no commanders but two Saxon officers, who trembled before the approaching vengeance, I saw that it was no case of fighting, but an execution, in which it did not become me to take a part. I dreaded lest I might actually find pleasure in killing some of the scoundrels with my own hand. So I sheathed my sword, and left the task of exterminating the assassins to my troopers. Two-thirds of them fell on the spot; the rest, among them two officers and several men of the Saxon guards, fled towards the bridge in hope of recrossing the river by the planks. But as they could only go in single file, and our men were pressing them hard, they made for a large inn close by, whence they set to work to fire on my people, some Badish and Prussian pickets on the further bank aiding.

As it was probable that the noise of the fight might attract large forces towards the bridge, who, without crossing the river, could destroy my two regiments by musketry and artillery fire, I resolved to lose no time. I ordered most of my men to dismount, and taking a good supply of cartridges, to attack the inn in rear, and set fire to the stables and hay-lofts. On this, the assassins, finding themselves about to be caught by the flames, made an effort to escape; but as fast as they appeared at the gates the chasseurs shot them down. In vain did they send one of the Saxon officers to me: I refused to treat the monsters who had butchered our comrades as soldiers who surrendered honourably. The Prussian, Saxon, and Badish assassins who had crossed the foot-bridge were therefore all exterminated. I announced the fact to General Sébastiani, and he halted the other brigades half-way.

The fire which we had kindled soon reached the neighbouring houses. A great part of the village of Lindenau was burnt, and the reconstruction of the bridge and passage of the enemy's troops in pursuit of the French army thereby delayed.

Our expedition ended, I brought back the brigade to Markranstadt, as well as the 2,000 French who had escaped the disaster at the bridge. Among them were officers of all ranks. The Emperor questioned them as to what they knew regarding the explosion of the mine and the massacre of the French prisoners by the allies. It is probable that the sad tale made Napoleon regret that he had not followed the advice which had been given him that morning to secure the retreat of the army and prevent any attack from the enemy by setting fire to the suburbs, and, even, if necessary, to the town of Leipzig. I may say that nearly all the inhabitants had left the place during the three days' battle.

In our courter-attack at the bridge of Lindenau, only three men in my brigade had been wounded, and only one of my regiment, but he was one of my bravest and best noncommissioned officers, named Foucher. In the attack on the inn a bullet had made four holes in him, passing through both his thighs. In spite of this severe wound, the brave Foucher went through the retreat on horseback, refused to go into hospital at Erfurt, and accompanied the regiment into France. His comrades and all the troopers of his section took, indeed, particular care of him, and in all respects he deserved it.

When I left Leipzig I was in fear for the wounded men of my regiment whom I had left there, among them Major Pozac. But, fortunately, the distant suburb in which I had left them was not visited by the Prussians.

You will remember that during the last day of the battle an Austrian corps had wished to cut off our retreat by occupying Lindenau, and the Emperor had caused General Bertrand's troops to drive it back. After thus reopening communications Bertrand had reached Weissenfels, and we fell in with him there. After the losses caused by the destruction of the Lindenau bridge, there could be no more thought of halting on the Saale, so Napoleon passed that river. A fortnight before the battle, that stream had offered him an impregnable position, which he had then despised, in order to risk a general engagement in an open country with three rivers in his rear, besides a large town with its narrow streets. The great captain had reckoned too much on his star, and on the incapacity of the enemy's generals. These did, indeed, commit such gross blunders that, in spite of their immense superiority in numbers, not only were they unable in three days to take a single one of the villages which we held, but I have heard the King of the Belgians, who then was serving in the Russian army, admit to the Duke of Orleans that the allies were on two occasions in such confusion that the order for retreat was given. However, the state of affairs changed, and it was our army which had to yield to misfortune.

After crossing the Saale Napoleon thanked and bade farewell to the officers and some troops of the Confederation of the Rhine who, whether from honourable feeling or for want of an opportunity to desert, were still in our ranks. He carried his magnanimity so far as to allow these soldiers to retain their arms, although, as their sovereigns had joined his enemies, he had the right to detain them as prisoners. The French army continued its retreat to Erfurt, with no event except the combat of Kosen, where a single French division beat an Austrian army corps, and took its commander Count Gyulai prisoner.

Always beguiled by the hope of returning to the attack of Germany, in which case the fortresses which he was compelled to leave would be of great service to him, Napoleon established a strong garrison at Erfurt. He had left 25,000 men under Saint-Cyr at Dresden, 30,000 at Hamburg under Davout, while the various fortresses on the Oder and the Elbe were garrisoned in proportion to their importance. These were additional losses to those which Dantzig and the other places on the Vistula had already cost us. I need not repeat here what I have said about the inconvenience of distributing forces to hold places from which one is about to retire, but will merely say that Napoleon left in the fortresses of Germany 80,000 soldiers, not one of whom saw France again before the fall of the Empire; which they might, perhaps, have prevented if they had been united on our frontiers.

Our artillery repaired its losses in the arsenal of Erfurt. The Emperor, who up till then had borne his reverses with stoic fortitude, was affected by the desertion of his brother-in-law. Under the pretext of going to defend his kingdom of Naples, Murat left Napoleon, to whom he owed everything. Formerly so brilliant in war, he had done nothing remarkable during this campaign. It is certain that while he was still among us he had been keeping up a correspondence with Metternich, and the Austrian minister, placing before his eyes the example of Bernadotte, had, in the name of the allied sovereigns, guaranteed him the preservation of his kingdom if he would take his place among Napoleon's enemies. Murat left the French army at Erfurt, and no sooner had he reached Naples than he prepared to make war upon us.

At Erfurt also the Emperor heard of the audacious manœuvre of the Bavarians, his former allies, who, after betraying his cause, had joined an Austrian corps, and marched, under command of General Wrede, with the intention not only of opposing the passage of the French army but of taking it and the Emperor prisoners. Wrede marched for two days parallel with our army, and was already at Wurzburg with 60,000 men. He detached 10,000 toward Frankfort, and with the remainder proceeded towards the small fortress of Hanau with a view of blocking the road to the French. He had been with us on the Russian campaign and thought to find the French army still in the wretched state to which cold and hunger had reduced it when it reached the Beresina; but we soon showed him that, in spite of our misfortunes, we still had some troops in good condition and quite enough to beat the Austrians and Bavarians.

Not knowing that beyond Erfurt the allied troops whom we had fought at Leipzig had been following us only at a considerable distance, Wrede had become very enterprising, and thought to catch us between two fires. This he could not do; still, as several of the enemy's corps were seeking to outflank our right by way of the Franconian Mountains, while the Bavarians met us in front, our situation might become critical. Then Napoleon, rising to the height of the danger, marched briskly on Hanau, the approaches to which are covered by thick forests, and especially by the famous defile of Geluhausen, through which the Kinzig flows. This stream, the banks of which are very steep, runs between two mountains where there is only a narrow passage for the river, beside which a very fine road has been hewn out of the rock, going from Fulda to Frankfort-on-Main, by way of Hanau. Sébastiani's cavalry, which had acted as advance-guard from Weissenfels to Fulda, ought at that point where the road enters the mountains to have been replaced by infantry. I have never known for what reason that grand principle of war was not followed on this occasion; but, to our surprise, Exelmans' light cavalry division continued to march in front of the army. My regiment and the 24th were at the head, and I commanded the brigade. We learned from the peasants that the Austro-Bavarian army was already at Hanau, and that a strong division was coming to meet us to dispute our passage through the defile.

My position as commander of the advance-guard now became very ticklish. How was I, without a single foot soldier, and with my cavalry shut in between lofty hills and an impassable torrent, to attack infantry whose scouts could climb the rocks and shoot us down at point-blank range? I at once sent to the rear of the column to let the general know, but Exelmans was not to be found. So, as my orders were to advance, and I could not stop the divisions behind me, I marched on, until at an elbow in the valley my scouts reported that there was a detachment of the enemy's hussars in front. The Austrians and Bavarians had made the same mistake as our leaders. We had to attack with cavalry a long and narrow defile in which not more than ten or twelve horses could walk abreast, and they were sending cavalry to defend a place which a hundred light infantry could have held against any number of horse. I was rejoiced to see that the enemy had no infantry, and as I knew by experience that when two columns meet in a narrow place the advantage is always to the side that makes the charge, I sent my picked company ahead at full speed. Only the first section could touch the enemy, but it did it so thoroughly that the Austrian column was thrown into disorder, and my troopers had only to hold their swords straight.

We pursued for more than an hour. The enemy were Ott's regiment, and I never saw finer hussars. They were just from Vienna; and their uniforms, handsome, if a little theatrical, were as new and smart as you could wish. You might have thought they came from a ball-room or a theatre. Their brilliant costume contrasted strangely with the more than modest get-up of our chasseurs, many of whom were still wearing the clothes, stained with smoke and dust, in which they had bivouacked for a year and a half past; but brave hearts and sturdy limbs were inside them. The white jackets of Ott's hussars were soon terribly blood-stained, and the trim regiment lost more than 200 killed and wounded. Not one of ours was touched, as the enemy never had a chance of turning round. Our men took a number of excellent horses and gold-laced jackets. So far all had gone well; but as I galloped after the stream of pursuers I was not without anxiety as to the end of this curious fight. The hills on each side of the stream were falling away, and it was clear that we were approaching the end of the valley. There we should probably find a plain full of infantry, and might have to pay dear for our success. Happily it was not so. On issuing from the defile we saw nothing but the cavalry, including the main portion of Ott's hussars, whom we had just handled so roughly, and who now drew along some fifteen squadrons with them in their headlong retreat on Hanau.

Then General Sébastiani made his three divisions of cavalry debouch. These were soon supported by the infantry under Victor and Macdonald, with several batteries; the Emperor and part of the guard presently appeared, and the remainder of the army followed. It was the evening of October 21. We bivouacked in a neighbouring wood, at not more than a league from Hanau and the Austro-Bavarian army.