Byng and Morillo had been for three weeks at the Roncesvalles passes, but it was only eight days since they had been put under the command of Cole, who had come up with the 4th Division from his long stay in front of Pampeluna. And it was only on the 22nd that Wellington had sent to Cole the warning that the French main body was moving toward St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, and that he might expect to be attacked. On the 23rd Cole received the stringent orders which have been quoted on an earlier page, but the still stronger message of the 24th seems only to have reached him after the fighting had begun.
While Byng and Morillo were in charge they had evidently counted on being attacked along the high-road, and possibly also in the depths of the Val Carlos. But no serious attempt had been made to cover the highland path that comes out on the Linduz, much farther west. It was only watched by a picquet—one company of Morillo’s men encamped in the ruined redoubt of 1793 on the Linduz. The other points of access were carefully blocked: Byng had a strong first line of defence on the Leiçaratheca hill, whose rocky upper face gave good cover for skirmishers. It was held by the three light companies of his brigade, the attached company of the 5/60th and one battalion[857] and three light companies from Morillo’s right-hand brigade. Two miles behind was the real fighting position, occupied by the Buffs and the ‘1st Provisional’ (2/31st and 2/66th), with two of Morillo’s battalions[858]. Byng’s third battalion, the 1/57th, was detached far downhill to the left, on the lower slopes of the Altobiscar, watching the Val Carlos. The third Spanish battalion of Morillo’s right-hand brigade, Leon, was detached in a similar fashion to the right, to the foot of the Altobiscar heights, to guard a by-path, which crosses the main chain of the mountains and comes down into the upper valley of the Irati river at the foundry of Orbaiceta.
The remaining battalions of Morillo’s left-hand brigade[859] were down in the Val Carlos, on ground south of the village of the same name, in a position blocking the upper and higher end of that deep-sunk depression. They covered the flank of the Altobiscar heights, and were not far from the 1/57th. Their line of retreat, if they should be pushed, was up a very steep path, which comes into the chaussée on the Ibaneta ridge[860]. It was this brigade which supplied the picquet on the Linduz, the only precaution taken to cover the extreme left of the Allies’ fighting ground. The whole force on the front originally consisted of 2,000 bayonets of Byng’s brigade and 3,800 in Morillo’s six battalions.
When Cole took over from Byng the general responsibility for the safety of the eastern passes, he brought up his head-quarters to Viscarret in the valley of the Erro, but placed his first British brigade, that of Ross, at Espinal, in the valley of the Urrobi, on the high road to Roncesvalles, only five miles from the abbey and the ‘Puerto’, and three from the pass of Mendichuri leading up to the Linduz. He was thus in a position to reinforce the passes at two or three hours’ notice with one brigade, and with his whole 6,000 bayonets in half a day’s march. On the night of the 24th, having received both Wellington’s first letter of warning and Byng’s report that his picquets had been attacked, Cole resolved to bring up his reserves nearer to the front. By the most fortunate of inspirations he directed Ross’s brigade to march before dawn—at 2 a.m.—and to occupy the head of the Mendichuri pass and the Linduz.
Ross, obeying orders all the more readily because he had just received Spanish information that the Linduz was going to be attacked next day[861], moved off in the dark, and mounted the Mendichuri, much incommoded on the way by sharp turns where trees had been blown down in a recent storm, and cumbered the path. He had the 20th with him: the 7th was following: the 23rd was left behind at Espinal, to start by daylight and bring on the baggage. Though the distance to the Linduz was only three miles, it took in the darkness more than four hours to reach the summit[862]. There everything was found quiet at dawn—the Spanish picquet in the old redoubt indeed was so sleepy that Ross and his staff rode into them without having been challenged[863]. Dawn had now come; though nothing suspicious had been observed, the general sent out the Brunswick-Oels company attached to the brigade to reconnoitre along the spur in front, while the 20th piled arms and lay down on the summit, to eat and get some rest after the night march. In the far distance to the north-west the tents of Campbell’s Portuguese, encamped on the farther side of the Alduides valley were perfectly visible. But shortly after 6 o’clock distant musketry began to be heard from the other flank—the direction of the Leiçaratheca—where the busy day’s work was just beginning. It was some time, however, before Ross’s brigade came in for their share of it.
Soult’s attack, as we have seen, was delivered by two columns each of 17,000 men, and each striking by one narrow road at a vital point of the enemy’s defences. There was practically no dispersion of forces on subsidiary enterprises, for the two demonstrations which he made on his flanks on the morning of the 25th were trifling affairs. To distract the attention of Campbell’s brigade in the Alduides, he directed all the National Guards of the Val de Baigorry and the other western valleys to assemble on the mountain called Hausa, opposite the Portuguese camp, to light many fires there, as if they marked the bivouacs of a large force, and to show themselves at many points. Little good came of this to the National Guards, for Campbell, an active officer, marched at them without delay, and drove them in helpless rout down the valley. But Soult (unlike the unfortunate local levy) profited perceptibly from the move, for the noise of firing drew down to the Alduides the two British generals responsible for the Bastan—Hill and W. Stewart. And while they were absent, off their own ground, their troops at Maya were attacked, and suffered many things for want of a commander.
A second similar demonstration was made in the valley east of Roncesvalles. Here the local National Guards, backed by a battalion of the 59th under Colonel Loverdo, crossed the main chain of the mountains and attacked Morillo’s right flank-guard—the regiment of Leon—at the foundry of Orbaiceta in the Irati valley. The Spaniards defended themselves stoutly, and held their ground all day. But the noise of this skirmishing far to their right rear was decidedly trying to the nerves of Byng and Morillo, who for some time could not be certain that their flank had not been turned by a respectable force. However, nothing came of this skirmish, since it grew evident by the afternoon that the enemy was weak and unable to press forward. It is barely worth putting on record that one battalion detached from the tail of Conroux’s division, went up the trough of the Val Carlos, and watched Morillo’s left-hand brigade without attempting to close with it.
Having dismissed these feints, concerning which no more need be said, we may proceed to the real fighting. At about 6 a.m. Vandermaesen’s division, at the head of Clausel’s long column, neared the hill of Leiçaratheca, where the seven British and Spanish light companies were ensconced in the rocky slope commanding the high road. The position had obviously to be stormed by frontal attack if there was reason to hurry, for it could only be turned by very long flanking movements over the steep slopes on each side of the road. General Barbot, commanding the leading brigade, deployed the 1st Line and 25th Léger, and attacked with a swarm of tirailleurs the whole front of the hill. The attack failed completely, the defenders being under good cover and perfectly steady. The French, when their first rush had been stopped, threw themselves down among the stones and gorse, and kept up a useless fire upon their almost invisible adversaries. Clausel, after three hours of this profitless bickering, sent in high rage a message to Barbot, that he would have him cashiered, unless he pulled his men together and delivered a serious attack[864]. Meanwhile the French battalions were coming up one after another from the rear, and accumulating behind the single brigade that was engaged. Barbot called back his disordered troops, re-formed them in column, put in a fresh battalion, and made a second and a third attack on the hill: all naturally failed—the troops being tired and discouraged. But the matter was finally settled by the divisional general, Vandermaesen, leading off his three rear battalions[865] across the steep hillside to the east, and turning the Leiçaratheca by a long détour. At the same time Clausel began to shell the position with six guns brought up from the rear. When Byng saw his outlying force in danger of being cut off, he ordered it to retire to his main body on the Altobiscar. This it did in good time, and when Clausel again advanced against the Leiçaratheca frontally, with the 50th-Line, while the flanking column drew in on the right flank, he received only a few shots from lingering skirmishers, and occupied the position with the loss of 9 men killed only.
So long had the turning movement taken, that by the time that the French had got back into order again, and could advance towards Byng’s real fighting ground, it was past 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The Altobiscar position was even more formidable than that on the Leiçaratheca; Clausel looked at it, felt it, and did not like it: it was impossible to turn save by a vast détour: this, he says in his dispatch, he was preparing to do, by sending his rear division (Conroux) to circumvent the whole crest of Altobiscar and the still higher summit to the east of the road, a march of many miles. But at 5 o’clock a dense mountain fog rose, the enemies became invisible to each other, and all movement became impossible. Byng was left unattacked upon his chosen position—though not destined to stop there. The losses on both sides had been absurdly small, considering that 17,000 French had faced 6,000 British and Spaniards for eleven hours. But really only Vandermaesen’s division on one side and the Allied light companies on the other had been engaged. Clausel says that he had but 160 killed and wounded—among the last General Vandermaesen himself[866]. Byng and Morillo had 120 casualties—the former remarks that this was an extraordinarily low figure considering that the French had shelled the Leiçaratheca for some time—but the cover was good[867]. There were more Spaniards hurt than British: their conduct had been exemplary. Morillo himself had been there, exposing himself with his usual reckless courage.
At the other end of the line the fighting was much more serious. It will be remembered that at 6 o’clock Ross was on the Linduz, with his leading battalion, and a second close behind: the third had only recently started the climb up from Espinal by the Mendichuri. He sent out his light companies to observe the northern slope of the plateau which he had occupied, that of Brunswick-Oels being directed along the wooded spur or crest which forms the western wall of the depression of the Val Carlos. Meanwhile the troops listened to the commencement of the long roll of musketry, which told how Clausel was attacking Byng on the other side of that valley. Three or four hours passed; General Cole rode by on his way to visit the Roncesvalles front, told Ross to keep a good look-out, and informed him that Anson’s and Stubbs’s brigade were coming up via Burguete, the former to reinforce the Spaniards at the foundry of Orbaiceta, the latter to the Ibaneta to support Byng. Somewhere about 11 o’clock, according to our best eye-witness, the outlying picquet of the Brunswick company detected dust rolling above the beech copses which masked the crest-path in front of them, and a little later caught intermittent glimpses of troops passing between the trees. It was doubted whether they were French, or some of Morillo’s troops retiring from Val Carlos. But about noon, Ross, having been warned to look for trouble, told the Brunswickers to advance and verify the character of the approaching strangers, while he himself called up the left wing of the 20th regiment and followed in support: the rest of the brigade were directed to stand to their arms on the Linduz. The German light company went forward some half a mile on a very up-and-down track, till they got quite close to the oncoming troops, who appeared to be in no particular order, a straggling crowd advancing along the crest, which is here only thirty yards broad, with trees and bushes on both flanks. When there was no more than eighty yards between the parties the French dressed their front, so as to cover the whole breadth of the ridge, and began to fire. They were the two compagnies d’élite of the 6th Léger, the leading battalion of Foy’s division, at the head of Reille’s column; close behind them the rest of their battalion was pushing up, as quickly as was possible with men moving on such a narrow track. The sixty Brunswickers, finding themselves in front of such a superior force, fell back, firing, on their supports, pursued by the enemy. General Ross, wanting to gain time for his brigade on the Linduz to deploy, ordered the leading company of the 20th—No. 8, Captain Tovey’s—to charge with the bayonet and throw the French back. There followed one of the rarest things in the Peninsular War, a real hand-to-hand fight with the white weapon. The French skirmishers in front gave way into the bushes, clearing the front of the company behind them. Then the two parties, each advancing up one side of a small declivity, met face to face at the top, with only ten yards between them when they came in sight of each other. ‘The French instinctively stepped back a pace,’ says the Brunswick officer who has left us the best account of this clash, ‘several of them made a half turn, as if about to give way; but their officers, some with appeals, some with threats, and some with curses, kept them to their work. They stood firm, and their bayonets came down to the charge: so did those of Tovey’s company. For a few seconds the two sides surveyed each other at a distance of two paces: then one French company officer sprang forward into the middle of the British, and began cutting right and left. He was at once bayoneted, and then the two sides began to fence cautiously with each other, keeping their line and not breaking forward into the enemy’s ranks; it was more like bayonet drill than a charge. I do not think that more than a dozen men fell on either side. After a minute the English captain saw that the French supports were closing in—he shouted ‘right about face’, and his men trotted back. When our front was clear of them, our five (four)[868] companies opened fire by platoons, and as the distance was only 100 yards we saw heaps of the French fall at each volley[869].’ Tovey’s company lost 11 killed and 14 wounded out of about 75 present in this extraordinary adventure, which had given the three rear companies and the Brunswickers time to form up across the crest and in the bushes on each side of it. It is astonishing that a man of the 8th Company got away—clearly the enemy had been too much astonished to pursue as he might have done[870].