The fight on the path that leads to the Linduz now became a very confused and constricted business, with many casualties on both sides, since French and English were firing at each other along a sort of avenue and could hardly miss. Foy’s second battalion, the 1/69th, had now reinforced his first, and finally the left wing of the 20th, badly thinned, gave way and fell back in some disorder to the point where the crest-path debouches on to the Linduz plateau. Here all was ready for defence—the right wing of the 20th, with the regimental colours flying, was waiting ready for the enemy, with the 1/7th in immediate support and the 1/23rd in reserve. When the narrow-fronted French column tried to burst out of the defile, officers in front, drums beating the pas de charge, a long-reserved volley smote it, and all the leading files went down. There was a pause before the third of Foy’s battalions, the 2/69th, got to the front and tried a similar attack, which failed with even greater loss. For the whole of the rest of the afternoon spasmodic fighting went on at the Linduz. ‘The enemy was visible,’ writes one of Ross’s brigade, ‘several thousands strong, on the higher part of the spur; every half-hour or so he sent another company down to relieve his skirmishers. He always came up in detail and slowly, for there was a tiresome defile to cross, over a deep cutting in the crest[871], where only one man abreast could pass. We could always let the head of the attack debouch, and then attack it and throw it back upon its supports[872].’ No attempt was made to turn the Linduz by its eastern side, among the steep slopes and thickets at the head of Val Carlos: all attacks came straight along the spur. Reille attributes this in his dispatch to the dreadful delays at the rear of his long column, owing to the narrowness of the path. He acknowledges that an attempt should have been made to push on to the Ibaneta, but it was 3.30 before Maucune’s first battalion began to arrive to Foy’s assistance, and 5 before the rear of his division was up. ‘By this hour it was too late to think of turning movements’—even if the fog which stopped Clausel had not swept down on the Linduz also. As a matter of fact only Foy’s four front regiments—five battalions—were put into the fight[873]. Similarly on the British side the fight was sustained only by the 20th, relieved, after its cartridges were all spent, by the 7th and the 23rd.
Reille does not omit to mention that after the first hour of fight was over, Cole had begun to show reserves on the Linduz which would have made any attack by Foy’s division, unsupported, quite hopeless. It will be remembered that the commander of the 4th Division had started Anson’s brigade for Orbaiceta, and Stubbs’s brigade for the Ibaneta ridge, when first the attack on Byng was reported, and he had gone to the Altobiscar himself to watch the progress of affairs on that side. While he was there Foy’s attack on the Linduz developed: Cole at once rode to the left, to see how Ross was faring, and in consequence sent downhill to bid Anson abandon his long march to the extreme right, and to turn up the Roncesvalles pass, as Stubbs did also. The British brigade took post on Ross’s right; the Portuguese brigade on the Ibaneta, watching the steep path from the Val Carlos. Up this there presently came the 1/57th and the Spanish battalions which had been near them. Thus Cole showed a continuous line from the Altobiscar to the Linduz, held by 11,000 men placed in a most formidable position not more than three miles long. Nor was this all—General Campbell in the Alduides, after scattering the National Guards who had tried to delude him in the early morning, had heard the firing at Roncesvalles, and (though he had no orders) thought it his duty to march with his five Portuguese battalions toward the sound of battle. Taking the highland track along the upper end of the Alduides, he appeared on Ross’s left at 4 o’clock in the afternoon by the so-called path of Atalosti. He was in a position to outflank any attempts that Reille might make to turn Ross’s position on the western side.
When the fog fell Soult was in a very unpleasant situation. Having chosen to attack his enemy with narrow-fronted columns of immense depth, over two constricted routes, he had been brought to a complete check. Clausel had driven in Byng’s outpost, but was stuck in front of the Altobiscar: Reille had failed to move Ross at all, and was blocked in front of the Linduz. The losses had been negligible, it is true—not much over 500 in all if the Marshal is to be believed. But those of the Allies were still smaller, and the confidence of the men had been raised by the way in which they had easily blocked for some ten hours, and with small loss, an army whose vast strength they could estimate by the interminable file of distant troops crawling up the roads in the rear[874]. If the men, however, were cheerful, their commander was not. Cole estimated the French at 30,000 men and more, and quite correctly: he had himself only 11,000 in line, with 2,000 more of Campbell’s Portuguese in touch on his left. Picton’s 3rd Division, which lay at Olague on the morn of the 25th, had no doubt started to close up; but it was a long day’s march away, and could not be at Altobiscar or on the Linduz till the 26th. Anything might be happening in the fog which lay deep on the mountains all night. Cole determined ‘that he could not hope to maintain the passes against the very great superiority of the force opposed to him—amounting to from 30,000 to 35,000 men[875]’, and that he must retire by night under cover of the mist. Even if his views had been less pessimistic, he would yet have been compelled to retreat by the action of Byng, who had fought heroically all the day, but was obsessed by fears as the fog settled down. He had come to the conclusion that, as the enemy had possession of the path along the eastern hills to Orbaiceta, and had superabundant numbers, he would be using the night to send a large force in that direction, where only the Spanish regiment of Leon was on guard. They could not be stopped, and when down in the valley of the Irati would be able to take Roncesvalles from the rear, and to throw the whole defending force on to the necessity of retiring by the Mendichuri and Atalosti routes, on which retreat would be slow and dangerous. Byng therefore sent a message to Cole that he must needs retire, and was already beginning to draw off his troops, under cover of his light companies, when he received Cole’s orders to the same effect. The moral responsibility for the retreat lay equally on both—the technical responsibility on Cole alone, as the superior officer: he might, of course, have ordered Byng back to his old position, which the French had left quite unmolested.
Was Cole’s pessimism justified? Wellington thought not: he wrote to Lord Liverpool ten days later, ‘Sir Lowry Cole, whose retreat occasioned the retreat of the whole, retired, not because he could not hold his position, but because his right flank was turned. It is a great disadvantage when the officer commanding in chief is absent. For this reason there is nothing that I dislike so much as these extended operations, which I cannot direct myself[876].’ And he was no doubt thinking of Cole, no less than of Picton, when he wrote that ‘all the beatings we have given the French have not given our generals confidence in themselves and in the exertions of their troops. They are really heroes when I am on the spot to direct them, but when I am obliged to quit them they are children.’ Cole was an officer of the first merit in handling troops, as he was to show at Sorauren two days later; and that he was not destitute of initiative had been sufficiently proved by the advance of the 4th Division at Albuera, where he was practically acting without orders[877]. But there seems no doubt that the scale of the operations in the Pyrenees made him nervous: he was responsible on the 25th July not for a division but for a small army, and he was well aware of the enemy’s superiority in numbers. His conduct was the more surprising because he had received before 10 o’clock Wellington’s stringent dispatch of the night of the 24th, telling him to ‘maintain the passes in front of Roncesvalles to the utmost,’ and to disregard any wide turning movements to the east on Soult’s part. These orders reached him at the Leiçaratheca, just as he was witnessing Byng’s successful repulse of Barbot’s brigade. Possibly the excitement of the moment prevented him from thoroughly appreciating their full meaning, and for the rest of the day he was busy enough, riding from front to front on the passes. As he wrote in his first short account of his doings, ‘having had no sleep for two nights, and having been on horseback from 4 a.m. till 11 at night, I am somewhat fagged[878].’ It is, of course, quite unfair to criticize a responsible officer in the light of subsequent events; but as a matter of fact Cole was in no danger—the fog endured all that night and far into the morning of the 26th. The enemy at Orbaiceta was negligible—one battalion and a few National Guards: Soult sent no more troops on that wretched road. And if he had done so, after the fog cleared on the 26th, they would have taken the best part of a day to get into action. It seems certain that Cole could have held the passes for another day without any great risk; and if he had done so, Soult’s whole plan of campaign would have been wrecked. But, of course, the fog might have lifted at midnight: Soult might have sent two divisions by a night march to Orbaiceta, and a retreat by bad tracks like the Atalosti would have been slow, and also eccentric, since it did not cover the Pampeluna road, but would have taken Cole to Eugui and the Col de Velate. Nevertheless, looking at the words of Wellington’s dispatch of the 24th, it seems that Cole disobeyed orders: he did not hold the passes to the utmost, and he did not disregard turning movements to the far east.
Both the Linduz and Altobiscar were evacuated in the early hours of the night of July 25th-6th: the French did not discover the move till morning, and by dawn the whole of Cole’s force was far on its way down the Pampeluna road entirely unmolested, though very weary.
To understand the general situation on the morning of July 26th, we must now turn back, to note what had been happening in the Bastan during the long hours of Byng’s and Ross’s fight in the southern passes. The supplementary part of Soult’s plan had been to force the Maya defile, and thus to break in the left-centre of Wellington’s line of defence, at the same moment that his main body turned its extreme right flank, by forcing its way through the Roncesvalles gap. D’Erlon’s three divisions, for whom this task had been set aside, had no long détour to execute, like those of Reille: they were already concentrated in front of their objective; their leading section was at Urdax, only a few miles from the summit of the Maya ridge; their most remote reserves at Espelette, in the valley of the Nive, were within one day’s march of the British positions.
The orders issued by Soult to D’Erlon on July 23rd ran as follows: ‘Comte D’Erlon will make his dispositions on the 24th to attack the enemy at dawn on the 25th, to make himself master of the Puerto of Maya, and to pursue the enemy when he shall begin his retreat.... It is to be presumed that the hostile forces in the Bastan, in the Alduides, and in the passes of Ispegui and Maya will draw back the moment that they hear of [Clausel’s and Reille’s] movement, or else that they will begin to manœuvre, so as to leave their present positions ungarrisoned. Comte D’Erlon will seize the moment to attack them briskly, and to seize the Maya pass. From thence he will march by Ariscun on Elizondo, and then on the Col de Velate, or possibly by Berderis on the pass of Urtiaga, according to the route which the enemy may take in his retreat. He should remember that he must try to unite as soon as possible with the main body in the direction here indicated, and to get into communication with General Reille. Whatever may happen, he must send strong detachments to pursue any hostile columns that may try to get off to their left [westward], to discover their routes, worry them, and pick up prisoners.’
These are very curious orders, as all their directions depend on the idea that Roncesvalles will be forced with ease, and that on hearing of its being lost all the Allied troops in the centre of Wellington’s line will retire in haste. Soult committed himself to this hypothesis in the words ‘it is to be presumed that the enemy will defend the position of Altobiscar feebly, because he will see that he is being outflanked by Reille’s divisions on the Linduz, and threatened at the same time, on his right flank by the detachment and the National Guards who are demonstrating in the direction of Orbaiceta.’ But what if Roncesvalles were held for twelve hours against Clausel, if Reille were completely blocked all day on the Linduz, and if the demonstration on Orbaiceta proved ineffective? In this case the British troops on the Maya front will not hear of disasters in the south, they will not retreat, but stand to fight; and D’Erlon, far from having a walk over the pass, as a commencement to a rapid pursuit of a flying enemy, will have a hard day’s work before him.