Daughter of a soldier, wife of a soldier, mother of a soldier, and the widow of a soldier…

This was the remark of Marie Tête-de-Bois, summing up her own life. She was perhaps the best known vivandière, one of the women who received patents from divisional generals to provide provisions for their men. With their wine, spirits, food and tobacco, their tents provided one of the few havens of comfort and conviviality in the otherwise bleak conditions of military campaigns.

vivandiereTypically they dressed in a modified version of the uniform worn by the unit they were associated with, a cut down tunic worn over the top of heavy wool skirts and sturdy shoes; but their ubiquitous mark of distinction was their canteen strapped over a shoulder.

While some 19th century prints show romanticised images of vivandières as trim and jauntily costumed girls, in reality most of them were probably as hard as nails and about as feminine (Marie was nicknamed Tête-de-Bois because  of her legendary ugliness). The nature of war frequently put them in harm’s way and the rigours of campaign were unforgiving particularly for an army in retreat. The horrors of the war in Spain and in Russia particularly drew no distinction between combatants and non-combatants and camp followers suffered terribly. They had to be tough and take every trial in their stride.

vivandiere 1Catherine Beguin, a vivandière with the 14th Light Regiment once carried her wounded husband for two leagues (about six miles) on her back until she reached the field hospital.

Marie Tête-de-Bois, pregnant at Marengo, gave birth near the battlefield. A passing soldier yelled, “Hey, Marie, you dropped something.” Her son would go on to become a drummer boy at the age of ten (this was common in many regiments), would become an officer and later be made a Knight of the Legion of Honour.

Though the average vivandière may have been a bit of a battleaxe, nevertheless they were often married to a string of NCOs as death claimed one husband after another – for on campaign they were as eligible as any pub landlady 🙂

Catherine BallandThey were brave too as the vivandières were not protected from the dangers of the battlefield.

Catherine Ballard with the 95th Line Regiment, honoured by Lejeune in his painting here, received the Legion of Honour in 1813.

The vivandière of the 63rd Line Regiment was decorated during the Russian campaign of 1812 when she killed a Cossack and saved the life of the commander of the brigade. Elzear Blaze in his memoirs spoke of “the courage of these women which sometimes equalled that of the old grenadiers”.

Inevitably some vivandières came too close to the fighting and became casualties. This was ultimately the fate of Marie. In fighting around Paris in 1814 her husband was killed and she was seriously wounded but she was back by the Hundred Days. At Waterloo she was serving with the 1st Grenadiers of the Guard in her 17th campaign with the army. Around 8pm, near the very end of the day’s fighting, she was killed by a cannonball.

Bonaparte’s close-run thing…

“This battle is lost but there is still time yet to win another.”

Battle of Marengo

Battle of Marengo

It was 5pm on the 14th June 1800 and Napoleon Bonaparte was on the brink of defeat in the vineyards and corn fields of the plain of Scrivia in northern Italy. But his faithful lieutenant, General Louis Desaix, mud splattered and sweating after a frantic ride cross-country, was undaunted, confident that victory could be snatched from the jaws of defeat.

louis Desaix

Louis Desaix

The battle of Marengo, the climax of my novel Bitter Glory, had been underway for ten hours already. Lannes’ and Victor’s divisions had held the line unsupported against the bulk of the Austrian army for almost five hours before they were forced into a fighting retreat eastwards. As they withdrew, the Guard Infantry, sent forward to plug the gap between them had become isolated and had been cut to pieces by Austrian cavalry.

For hour after hour the dogged retreat continued. Though the French divisions held their discipline, Bonaparte knew that only the arrival of Desaix’s force could prevent a disaster. What he had expected to be a battle of annihilation, the total destruction of the Austrian army in front of Alessandria, was turning out to be the destruction of his own force.

Thinking to prevent the Austrians slipping away, Bonaparte had sent Desaix south to cut off any escape route there but the great man had been duped, partly due to false reports provided by a double agent in the service of the enemy. Desaix’s mission was a wild goose chase as the Austrians had no intention of trying to get away. Instead they launched their own attack and by 5pm they thought victory was theirs. Their commanding officer, Field Marshal Melas, with an injured hand, had withdrawn from the field, handing over to subordinates for the mopping up exercise.

Meanwhile, to the east, as Desaix’s men gradually arrived on the battlefield, a hastily improvised attack plan was put into action. Desaix attacked at the head of a fresh infantry brigade. Though he was killed by a shot in the chest almost immediately, his men pressed home the attack. The extended columns of the Austrian infantry were taken completely by surprise and then thrown into confusion and flight by a devastating charge by Kellerman, son of the hero of Valmy, at the head of his dragoons. His charge criss-crossed the Austrian columns creating havoc and when an ammunition carriage exploded behind the now panicked Austrians, they broke and fled.

death of desaix

Death of Desaix

This created a chain reaction of panic and rout in the Austrian army. They had been so convinced that victory was theirs that the sudden reverse was utterly devastating for them. Their morale collapsed. By 6.30pm they were in total retreat with thousands falling prisoner to the now rampant French forces.

When the fighting finally ended due to darkness and exhaustion at around 10pm the French forces were back to the positions they started in that morning and the battlefield was littered with thousands of dead and wounded.

Fifteen years later Wellington would famously describe Waterloo as a “damned close-run thing”, but there have been few battles in history that have seen a change of fortune so dramatic and so decisive as Marengo.