Napoleonic Wars: Battle of Eylau 1807

**Sanitized Transcript:**

January 1807. French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, victor of Ulm, Austerlitz, and Jena, was near the height of his powers. His Grande Armée had swept all before it. Now, in the depths of a bitter Polish winter, he sought the final victory that would make him master of Europe. His target: the Russians, supported by the remains of the Prussian army. But many months of campaigning had exhausted even his toughest veterans. Most had not seen France in years. The war in Poland seemed to offer only freezing mud, hunger, and a stubborn enemy who did not know when he was beaten.

At Pułtusk, the Russians had fought courageously and thwarted Napoleon’s first attempt to outmaneuver their army. But another opportunity would soon emerge. Command of the Russian army had recently passed to General Levin August von Bennigsen. Despite his German name and Hanoverian roots, he was a veteran of 34 years of service with the Imperial Russian army. On 27th January, with 77,000 Russians and 13,000 Prussians, Bennigsen launched a surprise winter offensive, targeting Marshal Ney’s exposed Sixth Corps. But Ney escaped, and Bernadotte’s First Corps fought a successful rearguard action at Mohrungen.

Now, Napoleon would turn the tables on Bennigsen. As soon as he learned of the Russian advance, he began planning a grand encirclement of the enemy. Suddenly, it was the Russians who were exposed. But Bennigsen got wind of Napoleon’s trap just in time and began a hurried withdrawal. Five days of relentless marching followed, with Marshal Murat’s vanguard nipping at the Russians’ heels all the way. But despite a series of furious assaults on their rearguard, ably commanded by Prince Bagration, the French could not break through. The pursuit continued, even as temperatures plummeted.

To the north, Ney shadowed L’Estocq’s Prussian corps, while Soult’s Fourth Corps followed the Russian rearguard to the small East Prussian town of Eylau. On the afternoon of 7th February, Marshall Soult’s troops advanced up the icy road to Eylau. They found it held by General Barclay de Tolly’s Russian division, entrenched along a line of fences, ditches, and barricades. Just before dusk, confused combat began around the town’s cemetery. More and more troops were sucked into the bitter fighting. The French took the cemetery with a bayonet charge but then had to hold it against a determined Russian counterattack, led by Barclay himself, who was seriously wounded by grapeshot. Vicious street fighting continued well into the night, but the French ultimately prevailed, with the loss of 4,000 casualties on each side. Soldiers and officers alike were astonished by the savagery of the engagement. As darkness fell, temperatures dropped dramatically. Many of the wounded froze to death where they had fallen. The French ransacked Eylau for food and firewood. Many Russian soldiers had to sleep in open fields, wrapped only in their greatcoats, forbidden to light fires. That night, Napoleon’s greatest concern was that the Russians would slip away under cover of darkness, robbing him of the decisive battle he craved. He need not have worried. Bennigsen was done running. Here, at Eylau, the Russians would make their stand.

Before dawn, Napoleon was on Eylau’s cemetery knoll, trying to make out the Russian lines through his telescope. He was surprised by what he saw: 67,000 Russians packed into two great lines along a 3-mile front, with well-defended villages anchoring both flanks. Open ground lay between the two armies, providing a clear field of fire for Bennigsen’s 400 guns – a huge amount of artillery for an army of the age. Napoleon had Soult and Augereau’s depleted corps, plus the Imperial Guard and Murat’s Reserve cavalry – just 45,000 men and 137 guns. But Napoleon was expecting Davout’s Third Corps – 15,000 men – to arrive at any moment, in perfect position to fall on the Russian flank.

At dawn, as French troops were still getting into position, hundreds of Russian guns opened a massive bombardment. In Eylau, there was chaos, as roundshot crashed through buildings and tore through men. French guns soon answered the Russians in kind. It was the largest combined artillery bombardment the world had yet seen. It lasted nearly 3 hours. While Bennigsen had quantity, French crews were more experienced, and against the densely packed Russian lines, they couldn’t miss. Meanwhile, Davout’s two leading divisions arrived on the battlefield, dangerously placed on the Russian left flank. But before they could attack, Prince Golitsyn struck first with his cavalry brigade. Davout’s veterans threw back the horsemen with disciplined fire. Golitsyn’s charge, however, bought time for General Baggovut to reorganize his defensive line to face the new threat.

When the ‘Iron Marshal’ attacked around 8 am, he found the enemy entrenched on a ridge with formidable artillery support. Davout’s lead division was mauled, suffering 1,500 casualties as it was thrown back. This check on Davout alarmed Napoleon. He feared the Russians might withdraw before his trap could close. It was, he decided, the battle’s critical moment. Orders flew out to Marshal Augereau’s Seventh Corps and General Saint-Hilaire’s division. They were to launch a frontal attack against the enemy. At all costs, the Russians’ escape must be prevented. The 49-year-old Marshal Augereau had been with Napoleon since his first command in Italy, and the brilliant campaign of ‘96. But he was deeply unwell that morning.

At 10 am, strapped to his horse, he led forward the 12,000 troops of Seventh Corps just as heavy snow began to fall. With visibility down to a few feet, Augereau’s divisions drifted off course straight into the murderous artillery duel. French and Russian cannonballs tore through their ranks. Augereau’s men pushed on doggedly. But as they neared the Russian line, the blizzard suddenly lifted. One division found itself facing 70 Russian guns at a range of just 30 yards. Seconds later, its forward ranks were obliterated by Russian canister. Another French division broke through the enemy line, only to be surrounded on three sides by Russian bayonets and annihilated. Augereau’s horse was killed under him, leaving him badly injured. As the survivors of his corps stumbled back the way they’d come, Russian cavalry and infantry surged forward. Units were overrun, entire regiments swallowed up, order and discipline collapsed. One of the few units to maintain order was the 14th Infantry, nicknamed “the Brave” for its heroic role at Rivoli 10 years before. But now they were outnumbered and surrounded. The regiment resisted bravely but was cut to pieces, suffering 75% casualties and the loss of its Eagle standard. In the space of just thirty minutes, the Russians inflicted 5,000 casualties on Augereau’s Seventh Corps. Effectively, it had ceased to exist. It was one of the worst battlefield disasters of the Napoleonic Wars. For the French, Eylau was no longer a fight for victory, but a struggle for survival.

From Eylau’s cemetery knoll, Napoleon watched the catastrophe engulfing Augereau’s corps. He knew he must stabilize the situation immediately and buy time to reorganize his center and for Davout’s corps to arrive in force. So the Emperor turned to Murat and his large cavalry reserve. It was a desperate gamble. The horses were tired and suffering from the cold. They’d be outnumbered and unsupported by infantry. But the flamboyant, apparently fearless Marshal Murat was undaunted. He assembled 40 squadrons of cavalry – 5,000 dragoons and cuirassiers – and led them forward. So began one of the legendary cavalry charges of the Napoleonic Wars. Unable to move much faster than a walk due to the terrible conditions, Murat’s cavalry nevertheless presented a formidable wall of men, horses, and steel. General Grouchy’s dragoons, in the lead, drove back the advancing Russians. D’Hautpoul’s steel-clad cuirassiers then thundered forward on their giant horses. Finding a gap between two Russian divisions, they used it to pry open the enemy line. With seemingly unstoppable momentum, the riders surged forward. But it could not last. As they neared Bennigsen’s headquarters, a Russian battery blasted the French horsemen with canister. D’Hautpoul himself was mortally wounded. French momentum was lost. As the Russian counterattack began, Murat ordered his squadrons to regroup and pull back. He almost didn’t make it. The Russian Fourth Division had moved to block his escape. Seeing this, Napoleon ordered Marshal Bessières to lead forward the Guard cavalry. These were 2,000 of the finest cavalry in Europe. And to cheers of “Vive l’Empereur!”, they advanced into the whirling mass of shot and snow. When Colonel Lepic saw his men ducking, he called out, “Heads up! Those are bullets, not debris!” Chasseurs of the Guard charged down the first Russian infantry square they met, scattered the enemy’s gunners, and cut out a path for Murat’s retreating squadrons. The French charge at Eylau would go down as one of the boldest, most desperate military maneuvers of the age. The losses were terrible in men and horses, but it succeeded in its mission: the Russian advance had been stopped in its tracks, and the initiative had swung back to Napoleon.

Marshal Davout’s Third Corps – the famed heroes of Auerstedt, 4 months before – had now arrived in sufficient force to launch a full-scale assault. Anticipating this, Baggovut withdrew to a new defensive line on the Kreege Burge, a dominating height, perfect for artillery. Two hours of chaotic fighting followed, with every French advance challenged by a fierce Russian counterattack. But supported by dragoons and Saint-Hilaire’s division, Third Corps slowly ground down the enemy. Bennigsen was forced to send in his last reserve – Kamenski’s 14th Division. Supported by cavalry, it drove the French from Klein-Sausgarten and across the fields beyond, until its own advance was checked by French artillery. When Davout resumed his attack at 3 PM, the Russian line buckled. The Kreege Burge was taken. So too Bennigsen’s headquarters, at Auklappen. Bennigsen scraped together enough units to improvise a new defensive line. But French guns, hauled up to the Kreege Burge, opened up a devastating fire. The French pressure was irresistible. The Russian flank would surely collapse at any moment, handing Napoleon the decisive victory he so desperately sought. All that was required was one final push.

Early that morning, Bennigsen had sent urgent orders to Prussian general Anton von L’Estocq to join the main army with his corps as quickly as possible. Although nearly 70, L’Estocq was still as energetic as he’d been serving under Frederick the Great, and was assisted by a highly capable Chief of Staff – Colonel Gerhard von Scharnhorst. L’Estocq’s corps – 9,000 men – was 8 miles northwest of Eylau, closely watched by Marshal Ney’s Sixth Corps. His orders were to prevent the Prussians from linking up with the Russians at all costs. But by force marching his troops along frozen, hilly country roads, L’Estocq was able to bypass Ney’s blocking force. To Bennigsen’s joy, by early afternoon, the Prussians had reached Schmoditten. With his left flank crumbling, there was no time to lose. At 4 pm, L’Estocq’s Prussians charged forward. By now Davout’s men had been marching and fighting for many hours and were utterly spent. They managed a few ragged volleys before they turned and ran. Russian cavalry followed in pursuit. Marshal Davout, with just one intact division left, prepared to make a stand on the Kreege Burge. “The brave,” he shouted, “will find a glorious death here.” Fortunately for Davout, the enemy’s attacks were poorly coordinated, and his 40-gun battery inflicted terrible losses. Around 5:30, as dusk fell, Ney’s corps arrived in pursuit of the Prussians and took Schloditten. This new threat forced Bennigsen to call off his attack on Davout. And as darkness descended, the day’s slaughter finally came to an end.

Since Napoleon had crowned himself Emperor in 1804, every campaign, every battle he’d waged had ended in brilliant success. No longer. Bennigsen, learning the true scale of his army’s losses and its critical shortage of ammunition, withdrew overnight. The French were left holding a frozen, corpse-strewn battlefield, allowing Napoleon to claim a victory. But in reality, Eylau had been a murderous slaughter without a winner. As Marshal Ney exclaimed on seeing the battlefield, “What a massacre! And without result!” Exact casualty figures are unknown due to the chaos and conditions of the battle and the scale of loss. But it is likely that the Russians lost 20,000 men killed, wounded, or captured; the French perhaps as many as 25,000. What is clear is that thousands of French veterans – the victors of Ulm, Austerlitz, and Jena – met their end on the snowy fields of East Prussia. Napoleon’s Grand Armée would go on to achieve many more great victories, including a crushing victory over Bennigsen’s Russians at Friedland four months later. But after the brutal losses of Eylau, it was never the same.

Thank you to the artists Keith Rocco and Alexander Averyanov for kind permission to use their artworks in this video. Big thanks also to our old collaborator HistoryMarche for creating the battlefield map used in this episode. You can enjoy many more excellent military history videos on his own YouTube channel. And thank you to all the Epic History TV Patreon supporters who voted for this topic and make this channel possible. Visit our Patreon page to find out how you can support our work, help choose future topics, and get ad-free early access to new videos.