Soon the mass, helpless under this storm of fire, wavered and shook; and then Seidlitz, who had been concealed with his cavalry in a hollow a short distance away, hurled himself like a thunderbolt on their rear, and in a moment they broke up in headlong flight.

In less than half an hour from the first appearance of the Prussians on the hill, the struggle had ended, and an army of from fifty to sixty thousand men was a mob of fugitives; defeated by a force of but twenty-two thousand men, not above half of whom were engaged.
The loss of the allies was three thousand killed and wounded, five thousand prisoners, and seventy-two guns; while the Prussians lost but one hundred and sixty-five killed, and three hundred and seventy-six wounded.

The victory was one of the most remarkable and surprising ever gained, for these figures by no means represent the full loss to the defeated.
The German portion of the army, after being chased for many miles, scattered in all directions; and only one regiment reached Erfurt in military order, and in two days the whole of the men were on their way to their homes, in the various states composing the Confederation.

The French were in no less disgraceful a condition.
Plundering as they went, a mere disorganized rabble, they continued their flight until fifty-five miles from the field of battle, and were long before they gathered again in fighting order.
The joy caused in Prussia and in England, by this astonishing victory, was shared largely by the inhabitants of the country through which the French army had marched.

Everywhere they had plundered and pillaged, as if they had been moving through an enemy's country instead of one they had professed to come to deliver.