PASSAGE OF THE BIDASSAO.
Passage of the Bidassao.—Fall of Pamplona.
The capture of San Sebastian permitted the allied leader to prepare for a decisive movement so soon as the reduction of Pamplona should warrant his advance across the frontier. The enemy were strongly posted on the right bank of the Bidassao,[255] in front of Vera—and preparatory to assuming the offensive, Wellington determined to force that position and occupy it himself.
Every arrangement was made with his habitual secrecy. The fords were sounded and marked by fishermen, who created no suspicion, as, to all appearance, they were following their customary avocation, and hence their proceedings were unnoticed by the French videts. All was prepared for the attempt—and at midnight, on the 6th of October, the British divisions got silently under arms. A storm was raging furiously—thunder was pealing round them—lightning, in quick and vivid flashes, flared across the murky sky—the elemental uproar was reverberated among the alpine heights above—and a wilder night was never chosen for a military operation. Gradually the tempest exhausted its fury—the wind fell—the rain ceased—an overwhelming heat succeeded—and when the morning broke, the leading brigades, at seven different points, plunged into the Bidassao; while a rocket rose from the ancient steeple of Fontarabia, and the signal was answered from the heights by a combined movement of all the divisions there drawn up in order of battle.
Perfect success crowned this daring essay. The leading columns were nearly across the river before the French fire opened. Ground, difficult and broken in itself, had been carefully strengthened with numerous field-works; but all gave way before the desperate valour of the assailants. The light division, with the Spaniards under Longa,[256] carried the intrenched position of Puerto-de-Vera. Redoubt and abbatis were stoutly defended; but from all, in quick succession, the enemy was driven at the point of the bayonet. Night fell—the attack had everywhere succeeded—and the victors bivouacked on the field they won; and, for the first time, the allied forces slept upon French ground.
Here the British commander established himself, and awaited the fall of Pamplona, which Soult’s repeated defeats rendered inevitable. The garrison still obstinately held out: and when their provisions were nearly exhausted, it was rumoured that they intended, rather than surrender, to blow up the works, and take their chance of escaping.[257] But an assurance from the Spanish commander, Don Carlos, that, should the place be destroyed, he would hang the governor and officers, and decimate the men, prevented the attempt; and, on the 30th of October, the garrison yielded themselves prisoners of war, and the place surrendered.
Winter had now set in, and a season of unusual severity commenced. The allies were sadly exposed to the weather, and an increasing difficulty was felt every day in procuring necessary supplies. Forage became so scarce, that part of the cavalry had nothing for their horses but grass; while the cattle for the soldiers’ rations, driven sometimes from the interior of Spain, perished in immense numbers by the way, or reached the camp so wretchedly reduced in condition as to be little better than carrion. Resources from the sea could not be trusted to; for in blowing weather the coast was scarcely approachable, and even in the sheltered harbour of Passages, the transports could with difficulty ride to their moorings, in consequence of the heavy swell that tumbled in from the Atlantic. The cold became intense,—sentries were frozen at their posts,—and a picket at Roncesvalles, regularly snowed up, was saved with great difficulty. All this plainly shewed that the present position of the allies was not tenable much longer, and that a forward movement into France was unavoidable.[258]
But great difficulties in advancing presented themselves; and, all things considered, success was a matter of uncertainty. Soult’s army had been powerfully reinforced by the last conscription; and for three months the French marshal had been indefatigable in fortifying the whole line of his position, and strengthening his defences, wherever the ground would admit an enemy to approach. The field-works extended from the sea to the river, as the right rested on St. Jean-de-Luz, and the left on the Nivelle. The centre was at Mont La Rhune and the heights of Sarré. The whole position passed in a half-circle through Irogne, Ascain, Sarré, Ainhoue, and Espelette. Though the centre was commanded by a higher ridge, a narrow valley interposed between them. The entire front was covered with works, and the sierras defended by a chain of redoubts. The centre was particularly strong—in fact, it was a work regularly ditched and palisaded.
To turn the position, by advancing Hill’s corps through St. Jean Pied-de-Port, was first determined on; but, on consideration, this plan of operations was abandoned,—and, strong as the centre was, the allied leader resolved that on it his attack should be directed, while the heights of Ainhoue, which formed its support, should, if possible, be simultaneously carried.
A commander less nerved than Lord Wellington, would have lacked resolution for this bold and masterly operation. Everything was against him, and every chance favoured the enemy. The weather was dreadful—the rain fell in torrents,—and while no army could move, the French had the advantage of the delay to complete the defences of a position which was already deemed perfect as art and nature could render it. Nor did their powerful works produce in the enemy a false security. Aware of the man and the troops which threatened them—they were always ready for an attack—and their outpost duty was rigidly attended to. Before day their corps were under arms—and the whole line of defences continued fully garrisoned until night permitted the troops to be withdrawn.
At last the weather moderated. On the 7th, Ainhoue was reconnoitred by Wellington in person, and the plan of the attack arranged. No operation could be more plain or straightforward. The centre was to be carried by columns of divisions, and the right centre turned. To all the corps their respective points of attack were assigned,—while to the light division and Longa’s Spaniards the storming of La Petite Rhune was confided. The latter were to be supported by Alten’s cavalry, three brigades of British artillery, and three mountain guns.[259]
The 8th had been named for the attack—but the roads were so dreadfully cut up, that neither the artillery nor Hill’s brigade could get into position, and it was postponed for two days longer—when the 10th dawned, a clear and moonlight morning. Long before day, Lord Wellington, and several of the generals of division and brigade with their respective staffs, had assembled in a small wood, five hundred yards from the redoubt above the village of Sarré, waiting for sufficient light to commence the arranged attack.
Nothing could exceed the courage and rapidity with which the troops rushed on, and overcame every artificial and natural obstacle. The 3rd and 7th advanced in front of the village—Downie’s Spanish brigade attacked the right—while the left was turned by Cole’s, and the whole of the first line of defences remained in possession of the allies.
On this glorious occasion, the light division was preeminently distinguished. By moonlight it moved from the greater La Rhune, and formed in a ravine which separates the bolder from the lesser height. This latter was occupied in force by the enemy, and covered on every assailable point with intrenchments. As morning broke, the British light troops rushed from the hollow which had concealed them. To withstand their assault was impossible—work after work was stormed; forward they went with irresistible bravery, and on the summit of the hill united themselves with Cole’s division, and then pushed on against the intrenched heights behind, which formed the strongest part of the position. Here, a momentary check arrested their progress—the supporting force (Spanish) were too slow, and the ground too rugged for the horse artillery to get over it at speed. The rifles were attacked in turn, and for a moment driven back by a mass of the enemy. But the reserve came up; and again the light troops rushed forward—the French gave way—and the whole of the lower ridge was left in possession of the assailants.
For four hours the combat had raged, and on every point the British were victorious. A more formidable position still remained behind—and Wellington combined his efforts for a vigorous and general attack.
This mountain position extended from Mondarin to Ascain—and a long valley, through which the Nivelle flows, traversed it; where the surface was unequal, the higher points were crowned with redoubts, and the spaces of leveller surface occupied by the French in line or column, as the nature of the ground best admitted. Men inclined to fight never had a field that offered so many advantages; and there were none, save the British leader and the splendid army he commanded, who would have ventured to assault equal numbers posted as the enemy were.
The dispositions were soon complete—the word was given—and in six columns, with a chain of skirmishers in front, the allies advanced to the attack.
To carry a strong work, or assail a body of infantry in close column, placed on the crest of an acclivity that requires the attacking force to halt frequently for breathing-time, requires a desperate and enduring valour which few armies can boast—but such bravery on that occasion characterised the allied divisions. Masses posted on a steep height were forced from it by the bayonet, though hand and foot were often required to enable the assaulting party to reach them. Redoubts were carried at a run, or so rapidly turned by the different brigades, that the defenders had scarcely time to escape by the rear. Nothing could resist the dash and intrepidity of the British; and over the whole extent of that formidable position, on no point did the attack fail.
The French were driven from their works, and forced in great confusion on the bridge of the Nivelle. One redoubt, from its superior strength, had been obstinately maintained—but the regiment that occupied it was completely cut off from retreating, and the whole were made prisoners.
In every other point the British attack succeeded. Hill’s division carried the heights of Ainhoue, the whole of the redoubts falling to the British and Portuguese under Hamilton; while Stewart drove the enemy from a parallel ridge in the rear—and the divisions, by an united attack, forcing the enemy from their works at Espelette, obliged them to retire towards Cambo,—thus gaining the rear of the position originally occupied, and forcing Soult’s centre on his right.
The French marshal formed in great force on the high grounds over Ascain and St. Pe, and Lord Wellington made instant dispositions to attack him. Three divisions, the third, sixth, and seventh, advanced against the heights—two by the left of the Nivelle, and one, the sixth, by the right bank. As the position was exceedingly strong, the enemy determined to hold it to the last, and maintained a furious cannonade, supported by a heavy fire of musketry. But the steady and imposing advance of the allies could not be repelled—and the French retired hastily. The right of the position was thus entirely cut through—and though for months the Duke of Dalmatia had been arming every vulnerable point, and his engineers had used their utmost skill in perfecting its defences, the British commander’s dispositions were so admirably made and so gallantly carried out, that his numerous and most difficult attacks were crowned with brilliant success, unalloyed by a single failure.
Night ended the battle,—the firing ceased—Soult retreated and, covered by the darkness, withdrew a beaten army, that had numbered fully seventy thousand men. His killed and wounded exceeded three thousand, besides a loss of fifty guns, and twelve hundred prisoners. The allies reckoned their casualties at two thousand four hundred killed and wounded; which, the nature of the ground, the strength of its defences, and the corps d’armée that held it, considered, was indeed a loss comparatively light.