The Dual Battles of Jena and Auerstadt, 1806. Napoleon's High-Water Mark. Prussia's Defeat Sparks Reforms - Becomes the World's Greatest Military Institution of the 19th Century.

The disastrous Prussian defeat at Jena and Auerstädt in 1806 was more than a humiliation, it was a reckoning. In the ashes of their shattered military, Prussia saw the urgent need for reform. The old system, built on outdated doctrines and rigid hierarchy, was swept away. At the heart of this transformation was the creation of the General Staff system, a revolutionary institution that replaced privilege and pedigree with merit, expertise, and meticulous planning. This system became the engine of the Prussian military’s rebirth, ensuring it was led by the most talented minds, trained to anticipate and respond to the complexities of modern warfare.

The results were undeniable. Over the next century, the Prussian military emerged as the most formidable force in Europe, its dominance confirmed by stunning victories against Denmark, Austria, and France. The General Staff became the model for every major military power, reshaping the very nature of command and strategy in the modern age. What began as Prussia’s greatest disaster ultimately became the foundation of its greatest strength, cementing its military legacy for generations to come.

Jena and Auerstadt. October 14, 1806.
Prussian Forces: ~ 105,000 Soldiers.
French Forces: ~ 80,000 Soldiers.

Additional Reading and Episode Research:

• Chandler, David. The Campaigns of Napoleon.
• Britt, Albert. The Wars of Napoleon.
• Dupuy, Trevor. A Genius for War.
• Maude, F. N. The Jena Campaign.

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Transcript

Thanks for tuning in to this episode of History's Greatest Battles. As always, if you know somebody that enjoys this genre of history, please share the podcast with them. First off, my apologies for the few week delay, the two week delay in episodes. I've just returned from a couple weeks in Italy with my wife exploring battlefields, early Etruscan sites, and Roman areas of interest in preparation for Season 2. 

 Secondly, in today's episode, we're going to explore one of the most fascinating moments in all of the Napoleonic Wars. A moment that, the aftermath of which, shaped the 19th century in Europe. Let's now experience the battles of Jeannot and Auerstadt.

 Welcome to History's Greatest Battles, Season one, Episode 79: The Battles of Jena and Auerstadt, the 14th of October, 1806.

French Forces: 70,000 to 80,000 soldiers.

Prussian Forces: estimated at around 155,000 soldiers.

The disastrous Prussian defeat at Jena and Auerstädt in 1806 was more than a humiliation, it was a reckoning. In the ashes of their shattered military, Prussia saw the urgent need for reform. The old system, built on outdated doctrines and rigid hierarchy, was swept away. At the heart of this transformation was the creation of the General Staff system, a revolutionary institution that replaced privilege and pedigree with merit, expertise, and meticulous planning. This system became the engine of the Prussian military’s rebirth, ensuring it was led by the most talented minds, trained to anticipate and respond to the complexities of modern warfare.

The results were undeniable. Over the next century, the Prussian military emerged as the most formidable force in Europe, its dominance confirmed by stunning victories against Denmark, Austria, and France. The General Staff became the model for every major military power, reshaping the very nature of command and strategy in the modern age.

What began as Prussia’s greatest disaster ultimately became the foundation of its greatest strength, cementing its military legacy for generations to come.

In 1805, Napoleon Bonaparte, a man whose ambitions knew no borders, stood unrivaled in power and military prowess. That year, his dream of invading Great Britain was stymied, but he was not one to let an army sit idle. He turned his soldiers toward continental Europe, wielding them like a master craftsman with tools honed for destruction. The campaigns of Ulm and Austerlitz would stand as testaments to his unmatched genius.

At Ulm, on the 20th of October, Austrian General Mack found himself encircled so completely, so mercilessly, that surrender was his only option—defeat came without even the dignity of battle. But Ulm was merely the overture. On December 2nd, at Austerlitz, Napoleon’s legions annihilated the combined forces of Austria and Russia, breaking them on the field with an elegance that was as ruthless as it was masterful.

The Austro-Russian alliance unraveled in the aftermath, but the shadow of Prussia loomed large over the battle’s outcome. Their indecision—urged to join the alliance but paralyzed by hesitation—left Austria and Russia vulnerable, and their defeat at Austerlitz was the price paid for that inaction.

In the months leading up to Austerlitz, Prussian King Frederick William III dithered, caught in a web of uncertainty. He feared Austria might strike a separate peace, leaving him exposed, and so he hesitated, frozen by his own doubts while the tides of history surged around him.

Napoleon, ever the cunning diplomat, dangled a tempting prize before Frederick William: an alliance with France and the rich spoils of Hanover. But the Prussian court was divided. The war hawks scoffed at the notion of bending their kingdom to Napoleon’s will, and the king’s indecision deepened the fissures.

Frederick William’s wavering was more than a personal failing; it was a betrayal of his supposed allies. His hesitation sealed the fate of Austria and Russia at Austerlitz, their armies crushed while Prussia stood idle.

In the wake of Austerlitz, Frederick William’s ambitions got the better of him. His desire for Hanover overcame his reluctance, and Prussia finally accepted Napoleon’s offer—an alliance born of greed, not conviction.

But there was a complication Frederick William could not ignore. Great Britain also laid claim to Hanover, a territory deeply entwined with its royal family. The stage was set for further discord, even as Prussia’s alliance with Napoleon took shape.

In early 1806, Britain entered delicate negotiations with Napoleon, haggling over territories in Italy and Germany. Ever the strategist, Napoleon hinted at restoring Hanover to Britain, weaving yet another thread into his complex diplomatic web.

Napoleon, ever the tyrant in negotiations, compelled Prussia to cede the Duchy of Cleves and submit to the infamous Continental System. This economic stranglehold was designed to isolate Britain by severing its trade ties with the entire Continent, binding even reluctant allies like Prussia to the emperor’s will.

The threat of losing Hanover, coupled with the economic ruin promised by Britain’s retaliatory trade restrictions, roused Frederick William from his stupor. At last, he turned to the war faction in his court, throwing Prussia into the storm.

Bolstered by 20,000 troops from their Saxon allies, the Prussians raised an army over 200,000 strong—a force that, on paper, seemed formidable enough to challenge the French juggernaut.

Prussia’s sudden turn toward hostility reverberated across Europe, reaching Russia as it engaged Napoleon in talks over territorial claims in Italy. The shifting alliances sowed uncertainty in every capital.

Napoleon’s proposal to Russia was as calculated as it was audacious: he would solidify his dominance in Italy, grant Russia unchecked influence in the Balkans, and pull French troops from German soil. It was a gamble meant to pacify the tsar while consolidating his empire.

The sight of a hostile Prussia emboldened Czar Alexander to spurn Napoleon’s offer. He turned his attention to Frederick William instead, though any hope of Russian aid was a distant mirage—too far to arrive in time.

For decades, the Prussian army had been Europe’s gold standard, a symbol of precision and power forged under the iron will of Frederick the Great. Its name alone commanded respect on every battlefield.

During the mid-18th century, Frederick the Great transformed Prussia into a kingdom worthy of fear and admiration, wielding the disciplined army he had inherited from his father, Frederick I, with unmatched skill.

Through the War of the Austrian Succession and the Seven Years’ War, Frederick the Great displayed an uncanny mastery of strategy, outmaneuvering foes at every turn. His soldiers, forged into machines of obedience under his relentless discipline, executed his commands with unflinching precision.

But this system, brilliant as it was, bore a fatal flaw—it demanded a leader of Frederick’s caliber. After his death, no successor rose to match his vision or command his army with the same brilliance.

The army retained its form, but its spirit had withered in the absence of strong leadership. Yet the myth of its greatness persisted, and Napoleon had not yet tested his mettle against so storied a foe.

Napoleon understood the truth that others feared to say aloud: Prussia’s leaders, from Frederick William to his generals, were trapped in the past, clinging to the outdated doctrines of Frederick the Great. Meanwhile, Napoleon’s forces were redefining the very art of war.

Betting on the rigidity of his enemy’s tactics, Napoleon dismissed Frederick William’s ultimatum on October 7, daring the Prussian king to act.

Within a single week, Napoleon shattered the illusion of Prussian invincibility, exposing their once-vaunted army as a relic unfit for the modern battlefield. 

Napoleon had long anticipated this confrontation. When news reached him on September 18, 1806, that the Prussians had crossed into Saxony five days prior, he wasted no time. His plans, meticulously prepared, were set into motion with the swiftness of a predator closing in on its prey.

Gathering his forces near Bamberg and Bayreuth along the Main River, Napoleon unleashed his army on October 8, advancing northward in three coordinated columns through the dense and shadowed expanse of the Thuringian Forest.

His target was Gera, the critical junction where he believed the fractured Prussian forces would unite—an opportunity for Napoleon to shatter them before they could consolidate. On the path from Bamberg to Gera lay the town of Jena, perched twenty miles east of Weimar—a location destined to become the stage for Prussia’s undoing.

At Jena, Prince Frederick Hohenlohe established his position, joined shortly after by the Duke of Brunswick and Frederick William himself, who gathered their scattered forces just north of the town on October 13. Faced with Napoleon’s relentless advance, the Prussians resolved to retreat toward the Elbe River, Prussia’s western frontier. Hohenlohe was tasked with holding the line, positioning his forces between Jena and Capellendorf as a rear guard to shield the army’s withdrawal through Auerstädt, twelve miles north.

When prisoners revealed the Prussians’ positions, Napoleon made his decision with characteristic audacity: he would split his army in two, confident in his ability to outmaneuver his enemies on multiple fronts. Napoleon himself would command a force marching up the Saale River toward Jena, while Marshal Louis Davout would take a parallel route northward, skirting Jena and pressing toward the Elbe River. This maneuver gave Napoleon a lethal flexibility: Davout’s troops could cut off the Prussian retreat if they fled or strike their exposed flank if they dared to make a stand.

By the afternoon of October 13, Napoleon reached the southern outskirts of Jena. Scouts confirmed his suspicion: the main Prussian force was entrenched on a plateau west of the town—a position that would soon become a trap of their own making. Napoleon prepared to use October 14 to position his forces with precision, setting the stage for a decisive confrontation on the morrow.

Before dawn on October 14, Napoleon strode through his camps, speaking directly to his soldiers, his words igniting their resolve and reminding them that they were the cutting edge of history itself. The morning was cloaked in thick fog, but even through the murk, the Saxons fighting under the Prussian banner heard the unmistakable cry of “Vive l’Empereur!” echoing across the fields—a sound that sent a shiver through their ranks.

That cry unnerved not only the Saxons but also their commander, Hohenlohe, who had convinced himself that the French force before him was nothing more than a small vanguard. The truth would hit him like a thunderclap. In the fog of war—literal and figurative—both Napoleon and Hohenlohe misjudged the strength of the forces before them, though only one would have the chance to correct his mistake.

Napoleon believed he was confronting the entirety of the Prussian army, unaware it was only their rear guard. Hohenlohe, on the other hand, realized too late that the force before him was no mere advance party—it was nearly the full might of the French army bearing down on him.

At 6:00 a.m., under the cover of thick morning fog, the French troops moved into position, their silent march a harbinger of the chaos to come. By 9:00 a.m., the French had stormed and secured their initial objectives, seizing the villages ahead of them with ruthless efficiency. Napoleon, ever the disciplined commander, ordered his forces to halt and reassemble, ensuring cohesion before the next phase of the battle.

General Tauenzien’s advanced Prussian force bore the brunt of the French assault, suffering devastating losses. What remained of his troops fell back to rejoin Hohenlohe’s main force, reorganizing as a desperate reserve. Hohenlohe scrambled to reinforce his lines, desperately summoning troops to hold the French advance. Both he and Napoleon maneuvered their armies into position, each preparing for the decisive clash that was now inevitable.

But the battle erupted prematurely, sparked by the fiery impatience of Marshal Ney, whose hunger for glory burned hotter than Napoleon’s carefully laid plans. Ney, determined to carve his name into the annals of the day’s victory, unleashed an aggressive assault on the Prussians entrenched in the village of Vierzehnheiligen, unwilling to wait for the battle to unfold on Napoleon’s terms.

Ney’s rash attack forced Napoleon’s hand. Additional French troops surged forward to bolster the assault, quickly overwhelming the defenders and seizing the village. But as the smoke cleared, they were met by the full brunt of the Prussian front line, standing exposed in the open fields beyond. The French fell back into the shelter of the village, turning its narrow streets and sturdy buildings into defensive strongholds from which they unleashed devastating volleys on the exposed Prussian ranks.

The iron discipline drilled into the Prussian army since the days of Frederick I held firm, but it was this very rigidity that became their undoing. For two grueling hours, the Prussian soldiers stood unwavering under a relentless storm of musket and artillery fire, sacrificing their lives in staggering numbers as their lines crumbled.

While the Prussians endured the merciless bombardment, Napoleon seized the moment. With calm precision, he unleashed his forces against both flanks of the Prussian line, aiming to envelop and annihilate them. By midday, Napoleon gave the signal for a full-scale advance. The shattered Prussian ranks, already teetering on the brink, were driven back in disarray across the battlefield.

Hohenlohe, grasping for control, ordered a retreat northwest. But what began as an organized withdrawal quickly disintegrated into chaos as discipline collapsed under the weight of French pressure.

The Prussian army’s only hope of avoiding complete annihilation lay with reinforcements en route from Weimar, their fate hinging on whether these fresh troops could hold back the French tide. But the reinforcements arrived too late. They marched straight into the jaws of a triumphant French force, which obliterated them with ruthless efficiency in mere minutes.

By 4:00 p.m., the French pursuit had become relentless, sweeping across the battlefield. Only the Saxons, defiant to the last, mounted any meaningful resistance, standing firm as they were cut down where they fought.

While Napoleon was breaking Hohenlohe’s army at Jena, a far graver battle was unfolding to the north. It was there that Marshal Davout, commanding just 26,000 troops, faced the full force of the main Prussian army—more than 50,000 strong—at Auerstädt.

Davout’s orders were to act as a flanking force for Napoleon’s assault, but as dawn broke on October 14, dense fog obscured the battlefield, and the two armies stumbled into each other near the village of Hassenhausen. Despite the odds, Davout wasted no time. He deployed his lead division with impeccable precision before the fog lifted and was ready when the Prussians struck.

Wave after wave of Prussian cavalry charged at the French lines, only to be repelled by Davout’s disciplined infantry squares. When the fog finally cleared, the battlefield revealed a brutal stalemate. The Prussians pressed forward with reinforcements, but disaster soon struck: their commander, the Duke of Brunswick, was killed by a musket shot.

With Brunswick dead, chaos took hold of the Prussian ranks. King Frederick William III, present at the battle but utterly inexperienced, was too overwhelmed to take control. Paralyzed by indecision, he failed to appoint a new commander, leaving his army rudderless in the midst of the fight.

Davout’s men held firm, repelling attack after attack. Every Prussian cavalry charge broke against the unyielding French squares, whose discipline and training proved decisive. The Prussian infantry, unable to penetrate Davout’s lines, began to falter. By midday, the French had advanced far enough to bring flanking artillery fire onto the retreating Prussians, adding to the devastation.

Frederick William, rather than committing his reserve cavalry to turn the tide, ordered a full retreat to Auerstädt. Unbeknownst to him, Hohenlohe’s army to the south was already in shambles, retreating in chaos after its defeat at Jena.

The retreat from Auerstädt quickly turned into a rout. As the two battered Prussian armies converged, the extent of their shared catastrophe became evident. Panic swept through the ranks, and what remained of the Prussian forces dissolved entirely. Frederick William and Queen Louise abandoned their army and fled to Berlin, leaving their soldiers to their fate.

The aftermath was nothing short of catastrophic for Prussia. In a single day, Napoleon had destroyed their entire military power. The French inflicted nearly 25,000 casualties at Jena and Auerstädt, with another 25,000 Prussian soldiers taken prisoner. Thousands more simply vanished, deserting or blending into the countryside. The French captured all 200 pieces of Prussian artillery, stripping their army of its firepower.

The scale of the defeat was staggering. Napoleon, having crushed his enemy, led half his army directly to Berlin, entering the Prussian capital without resistance on October 27. Meanwhile, French forces scoured the countryside, capturing fortresses and rounding up stragglers. Within a month, nearly 100,000 Prussian soldiers were prisoners of war, and their once-proud military was reduced to ashes.

Napoleon offered terms to Frederick William, but the king, clinging to a desperate hope, refused. A message from Czar Alexander of Russia promised reinforcements—140,000 men—if only Prussia could hold on. But Alexander’s promises were empty. French forces swept through Prussia’s remaining fortresses with ease, and by the time Russian troops arrived, there was no Prussian army left to support them.

Despite the devastation, Frederick William attempted to regroup. From his refuge in East Prussia, he cobbled together what forces he could and joined with the Russians for one last stand. In February 1807, at the brutal and indecisive Battle of Eylau, the combined Prussian and Russian forces managed to hold Napoleon’s army to a draw, giving Prussia a brief glimmer of hope. That hope, however, was extinguished at Friedland in June, when Napoleon decisively defeated the Russians and their Prussian allies.

The Treaty of Tilsit followed, and with it came humiliation for Prussia. Napoleon stripped the kingdom of its military supplies, seized vast swathes of its territory, and reduced it to a shadow of its former self. Lands west of the Elbe were absorbed into Napoleon’s Confederation of the Rhine, while much of eastern Prussia was ceded to form the Duchy of Warsaw. What remained of the kingdom was little more than a vassal state, its sovereignty reduced to a fiction.

Yet, from this disaster emerged a transformation that would reshape military history. The collapse of the old Prussian system exposed its weaknesses, and in its wake came reform. Major-General Gerhard von Scharnhorst, appointed to lead the Military Reorganization Commission, spearheaded an overhaul of the Prussian military. He and a group of reformers understood that the rigidity and privilege of the old system were its fatal flaws. They envisioned a new model, one that prioritized talent, merit, and adaptability.

Central to these reforms was the creation of the General Staff, an institution designed to ensure that military leadership was guided by expertise rather than birthright. Officers would rise through the ranks based on education and skill, and the General Staff would coordinate strategy, oversee operational readiness, and act as the brain of the Prussian military.

Scharnhorst’s work continued after his death in 1813, carried on by his successor, August von Gneisenau. By the time Napoleon fell at Waterloo in 1815, the Prussian army had already begun to embody this new ethos. Institutions of higher military education were established, and innovations such as war games and battlefield analysis became central to training.

The results were transformative. Prussia's rapid and crushing victories against Denmark in 1864, Austria in 1866, and France in 1870 shocked the world and proved the transformative power of the general staff. By the dawn of the 20th century, no military power could afford to ignore the Prussian model. and nations across the globe raced to establish their own general staffs.

And so the fields of Jena became the funeral pyre of Frederick the Great's once mighty army. From its ashes rose a new force, a reformed and reborn Prussian military that would dominate the 19th century and carve its name into the pages of military history.