Soult reached Bayonne on the 12th July, and thirteen days later had marched on Pampeluna with 73,000 troops, bent on relieving one or other of the fortresses, perhaps both. He attacked the British right at Roncesvalles and turned the position; Hill was attacked at the head of the valley of Baztan and was obliged to withdraw. Wellington at once raised the siege of San Sebastian, which had been carried on by Sir Thomas Graham, and contented himself by blockading the fortress. He immediately concentrated his right and centre at Sorauren, near Pampeluna. The series of fights which took place at this time is known as the battles of the Pyrenees. On the 27th Wellington arrived, and a rousing cheer greeted him, which it is said deterred the French from making anything but a partial attack. Probably the truth of the matter is that Soult hesitated because he was expecting additional forces with d’Erlon, for the Marshal was scarcely likely to be overawed by a greeting. A corporal, unable to restrain his enthusiasm as the Commander-in-Chief rode along the line, shouted out to the intense amusement of all, “There goes the little blackguard what whops the French!”[77]
Soult was pointed out to the General by a spy. “Yonder,” Wellington is reported to have said, “is a great but cautious general; he will delay his attack to know the reason of those cheers; that will give time for my reinforcements to come up, and I shall beat him.” As a matter of fact, the 6th Division of infantry, to which Wellington had referred, did arrive, and “bludgeon work,” to use his expression, took place on the 28th, the anniversary of Talavera. The reinforcements had scarcely secured their position, their right resting on Orcain and their left on the heights overlooking the valley of the Lanz, than a very determined attack was made by the enemy. They were driven back, and made an attempt on the hill occupied by the 7th caçadores and Ross’s brigade of the 4th Division. They obtained possession of it for a short time until driven down. When the battle became general the 10th Portuguese regiment was overpowered, necessitating the withdrawal of Ross. Wellington then ordered two regiments to charge the enemy on the heights and those on the left, with the result that the French were “driven down with immense loss.” “Every regiment,” says Wellington, “charged with the bayonet, and the 40th, 7th, 20th, and 23rd, four different times.” Of Wellington’s 16,000 troops he lost 2600 killed and wounded, the French 1800 out of 20,000. The Portuguese behaved “admirably,” and the Commander-in-Chief “had every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of the Spanish regiments El Principe and Pravia.”
By sunset Soult’s attacks had waned, and on the following morning he began to retreat, although he received reinforcements to the number of 18,000 troops. On the 30th he attacked Hill to no good effect, and Wellington forced the French to retire from a strong position they had taken up. The pursuit continued until the 1st August, when it was discontinued, for the Allies were in possession of the passes and the arduous exertion of the troops was beginning to tell upon them.
Wellington again took up his headquarters at Lesaca. Writing to Graham he says, “I hope that Soult will not feel any inclination to renew his expedition. The French army must have suffered greatly. Between the 25th of last month and 2nd of this, they were engaged seriously not less than ten times; on many occasions in attacking very strong positions, in others beat from them or pursued. I understand that their officers say that they have lost 15,000 men. I thought so; but as they say so, I now think more. It is strange enough that our diminution of strength to the 31st does not exceed 1500 men, although, I believe, our casualties are 6000.” It was on the 31st that San Sebastian fell, the castle capitulating shortly afterwards, and the day is also noteworthy for Soult’s attack on San Marcial, which was repulsed by Spanish troops, the enemy retiring across the Bidassoa. Unfortunately, Sir John Murray made no headway against Suchet in the east of Spain, and was superseded by Lord William Bentinck, who besieged Tarragona, which his predecessor had evacuated. Although he was compelled to retire on the approach of the French Marshal, the city was eventually occupied by the British troops. Their entry into Villa Franca was marred by the rout of the advanced guard in the pass of Ordal, necessitating their retreat towards Tarragona.
It is obviously impossible to unravel with any approach to detail the tangled skein of complicated manœuvres which took place at this period, perhaps the most trying and exacting of the war in the Peninsula. Gleig, however, gives one picturesque touch to an involved picture which reveals more of the personality of the great General than many pages of military movements, and is infinitely more valuable for the purposes of a life story. “Lord Wellington,” he records, “after directing a Spanish column to move up a glen towards a specific point, looked at his watch, and observed to those about him that it would take the men so much time to perform the journey. He added that he was tired, and dismounting from his horse, wrapped himself in his cloak and went to sleep. A crowd of officers stood round him, and among others some Spanish generals, whose astonishment at the coolness of their chief was expressed in audible whispers. For the very crisis of the struggle was impending, and the French being in greater strength upon the spot, seemed to have the ball at their foot. Now, among the officers of the headquarters’ staff, there were several who had never approved the passage of the Ebro. These began to speak their minds freely, and one, the bravest of the brave, the gallant Colonel Gordon, exclaimed, ‘I always thought it would come to this. I was sure we should make a mess of it, if we got entangled among the Pyrenees, and now see if my words don’t come true.’ Lord Wellington happened to awake just as Gordon thus unburdened his conscience. He sat up, and without addressing himself to anyone in particular, extended his right hand open, and said, as he closed it, ‘I have them all in my hand, just like that.’ Not another word was spoken. The Spaniards had reached the top of the glen; Lord Wellington and his attendants remounted their horses, and the battle was renewed.”
On the 7th October 1813 Wellington passed the Bidassoa with the left of his army. Soult was attacked and driven back with the loss of eight pieces of cannon, taken by the Allies in the captured redoubts and batteries. The fighting was continued on the following day, after the fog which obscured the enemy’s position had lifted, when a rock occupied by the French to the right of their position was carried “in the most gallant style” by the Spaniards, who immediately afterwards distinguished themselves by carrying an entrenchment on a hill which protected the right of the camp of Sarre. Soult withdrew during the following night, and took up a series of entrenched positions behind the Nivelle, leaving, as Alison so eloquently puts it, “a vast hostile army, for the first time since the Revolution, permanently encamped within the territory of France. And thus was England, which throughout the contest had been the most persevering and resolute of all the opponents of the Revolution, and whose government had never yet either yielded to the victories or acknowledged the chiefs which it had placed at the head of affairs, the first of all the forces of Europe who succeeded in planting its victorious standards on the soil of France.”
On the 10th November, a little over a week after the surrender of Pampeluna through starvation, for the fall of which he had waited before resuming offensive operations, Wellington, with an army of about 90,000 men, attacked the enemy’s position, an exceedingly strong one, the right extending from the sea to St Jean de Luz, the left from Bidarray to St Jean Pied de Port, the centre between Amotz and Ascain. The enemy were driven out of the lines and followed over the river, with a loss of 4200 men and no fewer than 51 guns, the Allies losing about 2500 killed and wounded.
“Our loss,” says Wellington, “although severe, has not been so great as might have been expected, considering the strength of the positions attacked, and the length of time, from daylight in the morning till night, during which the troops were engaged.” The disorders which followed the battle were so great that with the exception of a single division Wellington sent the whole of the Spaniards—some 25,000—back to the Peninsula.
On the 12th the Marshal was in the entrenched camp at Bayonne, and six days later the victorious army went into cantonments, where it remained until the 9th December, when it was ordered to march towards Bayonne. It forced the passage of the Nive, and a series of engagements was fought until the 13th, on which date Hill, with one British and one Portuguese division, fought and won the battle of Saint Pierre. Wellington came up but refrained from interfering, and when he saw that his brave colleague had proved victorious, he wrung his hand in a hearty grip and exclaimed, “Hill, the day is entirely your own.”
In the battles of the Nive the French lost 5800 killed and wounded, and three German regiments by desertion to the Allies, whose losses totalled 4600. Soult had now one of two alternatives, either to be hemmed in at Bayonne or to retreat. He chose the latter, and marched in the direction of Toulouse with less than 40,000 troops, Napoleon, now in desperate plight, having withdrawn 10,000 for the defence of the eastern frontier of France.