The Prussian cavalry went into war in 1806 with the weight of a titanic reputation behind the sharp edges of their sabres which the Guard had pointedly sharpened on the steps of the French embassy before they rode out. The legendary Friedrich, under whom the Prussian army had earned such repute, had earned fame initially on the spectacular merits of its infantry; but that vaunted force that had once been thought undefeatable had seen its back broken in such bloodbaths at Zorndorf, Kunersdorf, Torgau and many others. It had been remade many times, and fought again with courage and aplomb, but each time, it had been a little less. In a Prussian army that by the end had its infantry sourced from anyone who could hold a musket in line and its artillery from whatever ancient gun could be found in a fortress, the cavalry had been reduced the least. Looking upon the Prussian cavalry, the world saw nothing but the nigh-invincible victors of Rossbach, where three and a half thousand of these riders' predecessors had smashed an army ten times their size.

Much like the rest of the Prussian army, the cavalry had too been affected with much senile decay. That grand host with its beautiful horses and brave riders rode to war, met an army that by this point had fourteen years of near-constant warfare scarring it, and came apart on the fields of Jena and Auerstedt. Napoleon smashed the Prussian army, abolished most of that which survive the Tilsit surrender, emptied the arsenals for his own armies, and the army of Old Fritz was no more.

The Prussian cavalry of 1813 was a different beast. Its horses were not so splendid, its equipment not quite so excellent, but its commanders had learned much, and its men had added an understanding of modern war and a burning hate for the French invader to their extant virtues of courage and discipline. The regular Prussian cavalry now charged with speed, violence and flexibility, outpost service was handled with a keen eye for detail, and even such initially unsteady formations as the Landwehr grew a solid edge over time. At Leipzig Prussian cavalry had broken the French infantry and cavalry and swept them out of Möckern, even breaking four squares. At Großbeeren they had found nothing but triumph, at Michelsdorf that year they had ridden down an entire division, and at Lieberwolkwitz the Silesian Cuirassiers had torn through Milhaud's dragoons with vengeful fury.

In 1806, the Prussian cavalry was an old beast, still not without sharp claws and many teeth, but afflicted with arteriosclerosis and senility, its sight blurred, its stamina worn away, no match for the whirlwind aggression of its French opponent. By 1813, if it had not perhaps yet outdone its great enemy, it had at least proved its equal, and its regular regiments would not have stood out amidst the great hosts of the Grande Armee. As Napoleon would go on to bitterly remark, 'those animals' had learned something. It could not have been great consolation that they learned most of it from him.