In the afternoon of the 17th marshal Ney suddenly appeared at the door with a numerous retinue, and without ceremony took up his quarters in the house.  I saw nothing of the emperor all that day, nor did any circumstance worthy of notice occur.  On the 18th, at three in the morning, Napoleon came quite unexpectedly in a carriage.  He went immediately to marshal Ney, with whom he remained in conversation about an hour.  He then hastened away again, and was soon followed by the marshal, whose servants staid behind.  His post must have been a very warm one; for before noon he sent for two fresh horses, and a third was fetched in the afternoon.  The cannonade grow more violent, and gradually approached nearer.  I became more and more convinced that the pompous story of the victory the day before was a mere gasconade.  So early as twelve o’clock things seemed to be taking a very disastrous turn for the French.  About this time they began to fall back very fast upon the city.  Shouts of Vice l’empereur! suddenly resounded from thousands of voices, and at this cry I saw the weary soldiers turn about and advance.  Appearances nevertheless became still more alarming.  The balls from the cannon of the allies already fell very near us.  One of them indeed was rude enough to kill a cow scarcely five paces from me, and to wound a Pole.

The French all this time could talk of nothing but victories, with which Fortune had, most unfortunately, rendered them but too familiar.  One messenger of victory followed upon the heels of another.  “General Thielemann,” cried an aid-de-camp, “has just been taken, with 6000 men; and the emperor ordered him to be instantly shot on the field of battle.”—­The most violent abuse was poured forth upon the Saxons, and I now learned that great part of them had gone over to the allies in the midst of the engagement.  Heartily as I rejoiced at the circumstance, I nevertheless joined the French officers in their execrations.  The concourse kept increasing; the wounded arrived in troops.  Towards evening every thing attested that the French were very closely pressed.  A servant came at full gallop to inform us that marshal Ney might shortly be expected, and that he was wounded.  The whole house was instantly in an uproar. Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!—­cried one to another—­le prince est blesse—­quel malheur! Soon after the marshal himself arrived; he was on foot, and supported by an aid-de-camp.  Vinegar was hastily called for.  The marshal had been wounded in the arm by a cannon-ball, and the pain was so acute that he could not bear the motion of riding.

The houses in the village were every where plundered, and the inhabitants kept coming in to solicit assistance.  I represented their distress to an aid-de-camp, who only shrugged his shoulders, and gave the miserable consolation that it was now impossible for him to put a stop to the evil.