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JOHN STEWART, alias IAN
ALLANACH
“The battles, sieges, fortunes That I have passed,
I ran it through even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.”
—Shakspere.
THE formation of the 87th
Regiment or Keith’s Highlanders has already been referred^to. About the
end of the year 1759, they joined | the allied army in Germany, under
Prince Frederick of Brunswick; and for three years bore a distinguished
part in the militaiy operations undertaken by that commander against the
French. The appearance of this body of troops, so unlike in dress and
manners any soldiers the Germans had hitherto seen, gave rise to various
surmises regarding their previous mode of living, and some curiosity was
exhibited to learn what it had been. A learned writer in the Vienna
Gazette of 1762 undertook to solve the problem; and here is his
account—“The Scotch Highlanders are a people totally different in their
dress, manners, and temper from the inhabitants of Britain. They are
caught in the mountains when young, and still run with a surprising
degree of swiftness. As they are strangers to fear.
Although no memory remains of any soldier, belonging to the Highland
regiments that embarked for the Franco-American war, returning to his
native glen, yet many people on Deeside will recollect that in the above
described hamlet, and not in one of its best houses, there lived forty
years ago an old man named Ian Allanach, or in English, John Stewart,
whose delight it was on the long winter evenings to recount to greedy
audiences his adventures in Germany, when a private in Keith’s
Highlanders.
Ian, though no boastful hero, was as proud of having served under the
Prince of Brunswick as the Laird of Drumthwhacket was of having been a
Chevalier under “the immortal Gustavus Adolphus, the "Lion of the
North"; and, like that worthy, was in the habit of solving all military
problems by an appeal to what his beau-ideal of a warrior had done, or
might have been expected to do, in similar circumstances.
It was easy to set the old soldier on his hobby. A reference to any
warlike exploit or feat of arms or generalship would suffice to
introduce an account of something of a like nature achieved or
experienced in the German war; and no battle either in the Peninsular or
Continental campaigns of the first Napoleon was equal in his estimation
to the action at Fellinghausen. It was characteristic of all his stories
that, if they did not begin with an account of this engagement, they
were sure in some way or other to lead to it He had so often “fought his
battle o’er again,” and in the same unvarying language, that most of his
listeners could repeat the narrative almost as accurately as himself.
Though the battle story had been told every night in the week, he never
tired of it, nor did it ever fail to awaken in him the ardour of the
military days of his youth, often to the extent of rendering him
oblivious of his present circumstances. This forgetfulness was sometimes
taken advantage of by the more youthful and frolicsome of his hearers to
play off ludicrous practical jokes upon him, more to amuse the company
than to ridicule the mental absentee; for Ian was good-natured and &
great favourite with the young.
Nothing provoked him more than to hear Napoleon's war tactics extolled
The world had rung with that warrior’s fame, but Ian disallowed it If
any one remarked, “Wisna that good generalship o’ Boney?”
“Good generalship!” Ian would contemptuously exclaim, “if he had
advanced that way against the Prince of Brunswick, he would have taught
him another lesson.”
Whether Ian Allanach ever became acquainted with the failure of his hero
in the campaign of 1792 against revolutionary France, or in 1806 on the
disastrous field of Jena against Napoleon, or with his death in the
dingy old castle of Altona, is not certain; but if he had heard of them,
the knowledge had no influence on his opinion as to the relative merits
of the two generals. He remained to the last firm in the belief that
Bonaparte was no match for his favourite hero in the art of war.
Ian was fond of society, and the pink of company to him was a good
listener. In the winter nights, if no visitors appeared early in the
evening at his own fireside, he would go in quest of them to his
neighbours’, and where he planted himself for the forenight there was
generally no lack of company. Let one fancy to himself the ben, or
kitchen end of some auld warl’ house, open to the rafters, and
everything above the low walls japanned with smoke, a long settle, with
a table, styled a dresser, lining one side, a row of chairs and stools,
with the muckle “rin wheel”—often removed in the evening for the sake of
room—skirting the other, the seats occupied by the more aged visitors,
and the remaining space filled to the door with juveniles as they best
could huddle together; the gudeman in the chimney lug on one side of the
hearth, and Ian similarly enthroned on the other, and he will have a
pretty fair picture of a forenight meeting in the Braes of Micras fifty
years ago.
At such time and place the business of the evening generally began with
the gudeman asking some question regarding the German war, as,
“Well, Ian, what did the Germans think o’ you Highlanders, when ye went
ower among them?"
“I kenna well what they thought,” Ian would reply, “for I never could
understan’ their gibberish; but I can tell ye it wisna lang when the
Prince o’ Brunswick thocht muckle o’s, an’ I’m sair mistaen if he didna
gar his father vrett to his cousin, King George, to thank him for
sendan1 sic brave soldiers to him.* But as for the German bodies, it’s
my thocht that they took us at first for wild savages, an’ wadna come
near’s for fear we would jump upo’ them an’ eat them. They had a sort o’
notion that in our ain country we ran wild among the hills, and that we
cu’d hardly be catched ava’, an’ gin we werena taen whan we were young
we cu’d never be tamed, but wid tak’ the first chance o’ rinnan’ aff
again like mad. But we let them see at Fellinghausen that rinnan’ aff
wisna what we were best at”
And then Ian would strike into an animated account of the battle—
“Ah! fine do I mind that nicht i’ the middle o’ summer [15th July,
1761], when after we had taen our supper we received orders to get under
arms, and hold ourselves ready to march at a moment’s notice.”
In the battle narrative Ian affected a style above his ordinary mode of
expression. His command of English was too poor to serve his purpose,
and he had a ludicrous way of giving English accents to Scotch words
when compelled to use them. He generally, however, relapsed entirely
into his native Doric if he happened to be driven off his usual line of
march by a question, or request for an explanation.
“There was a great stir among us,” he would continue, “everybody
wondered what was to happen, for we had not heard that the French were
near. In about half an hour in there came two dragoons, galloping as
hard as they could. They were at once admitted into the commander’s
tent, and several officers got orders to be in waiting. Out they came
again in about another half hour, and each officer went to his own
company and regiment, and then we were filed off at the back o’ supper
time along the road. First there were the grenadiers, and we came next
This wisna as we ees’t to march, for we an’ the grenadiers were maist
aften hin’most; so we thought there must be something bye ordinar’ tae
dee.
“We had gone on in this way for eight or nine miles, when in there came
more dragoons, galloping like the others. It was now clear day-light,
and nothing was to be seen. We then got orders to halt We hadna been
here long when we heard, as gin it had been to the south-east o’’s, the
sound of a drum; and then came more dragoons, and again we were marched
at quick speed for about another mile, the sound of the drums getting
louder and louder, and at last we saw colours flying, and begonets
glancing nae twa miles awa’. And what was this but an army under the old
Duke, that the French were tryan’ to keep from joining us, but we were
afore h&n1 wi’ them ! Now both armies had got together in spite o’ them.
“It was thought that after this the French would not attack us, but we
were mistaken there. The Prince did not trust to that, and so we were
still kept under arms. We didna get ony breakfast that morning, though
we had been marching all night.
“Weel, there was a good big hillock on our left as gin it had been half
a mile or so in front of where we were halted; and his Highness, and
some more officers of the staff took some cavalry and galloped off to
the top of it There they stood a good while looking wi' their
spy-glasses and speaking together. When they came back, we Highlanders
were immediately marched to the hillock with twelve or fourteen cannons,
and artillerymen to work them. We could see a long way along the road,
and over the plain a little to the south-west of us, where our men were
deploying.
“We had not been long here when we saw two or three dragoons coming
galloping along the road, and on they came till they were fired at by
the out-posts of our army, and then they retreated. After them others
came, now and then, in parties of threes and fours, galloping here, and
galloping there. Some o’ them came gey near where we were. After a
little they * stopped coming, and then we saw a great stour in the
south-east, and by and bye we heard the drums. It was then that General
Keith came forward, and says he,
“Now, Highlanders! there’s the French coming. Let me see that ye stand
your ground, an’ gie auld Scotland an’ me cause to be proud o’ ye.’
“We gave him a cheer and then stood to arms. By this time we could see
the enemy spreading out on the plain, little more than half a mile away.
It was not long when they threw out two or three regiments of cavalry;
and away they galloped straight north.
“These fellows mean to be at us/ said Keith, ‘ but well be ready for
them.’
“We were then drawn up behind the guns, facing to the north-east, with
our backs on our own men, so that we could not see what was going on,
but in two or three minutes such a noise of cannons got up that you
could not hear your own word
“Form to receive cavalry,’ cried Keith; and we had hardly got into
squares when they were upon us. On they came, waving their swords.
“Fire!! cried Keith ; and we gave them a volley.
“They reeled a bit; but on they came again faster than ever, and tried
to make their horses jump on the points of our begonets. Then they
wheeled about and dashed at us again. They did this three or four times,
trying to cut some of us down with their swords, and firing pistols in
our very faces; but still they could not get in amongst us. Whenever a
man fell, another took his place. At last they gave it up for a bad job.
But they got at us some way with their cannon, and we had to move our
position. Then came the cavalry again, but we gave them such a volley
this time that they did not come to close quarters. A great hash o’ them
fell, and the rest galloped off. The din at our backs at this time was
extraordinar’, but we had not much time to think of it.
“‘Fix begonets, face to the right, double file,’ cried Keith. We had
scarcely got into position when the French guards were within musket
shot of us. The balls were flying over our heads like hailstones, but
they did not kill many, for they could not get at us till they came on
to the brow of the hillock. When they did come we made a dash at them
with our begonets, and tumbled them back with heavy losses; for, as soon
as they turned from the begonet charge, we let drive at them wi’ our
musket shot; but just then we got a dreadful volley ourselves, and had
to get back to our old position. On they came again, and we played them
the same over again, but we did not venture quite so far this time, and
did not lose so many men.
“The third time they came on we tried them in a different fashion. We
went farther back ourselves, and let them farther on to the riggin. Then
we fired our shots first, fixed our begonets, and dashed at them; but
now we did not give them time to turn, but down the brae after them
helter skelter. They did not think we would do this, for when their
second line fired they killed far more of their own men than of ours;
and then they turned too, and we after them. They had to cross the line
of our cannon, and this put them clean out of order. What happened after
this I can hardly tell you, for we were now in the smoke of the battle,
and marching forward. Though the French were in full retreat, they were
still wheeling round and firing at us; so we got orders to halt, and
there was no more fighting that day.
“After we had got to our quarters, Keith comes forward, and says he,
'You have done nobly to-day, my brave fellows; but the French are not
half thrashed yet I think we shall have to beat them again to-morrow.’
We cheered him, as much as to say, 'We’re ready.’
“All that night we lay on our arms, and after breakfast next morning we
marched to the town of Fellinghausen. The road passes through the town,
but there the French was posted and had thrown up barricades and planted
cannon to keep us out When we came in sight of them a council of war was
called and after that Keith comes round where we were, and says he—
“The French mean to let us attack them to-day; there they are wrong.
They are bold at making an attack, but they are not so firm at resisting
one. Well soon drive them from their position yonder. Now, my lads, at
the word of command we’re to storm, and I’m sure we’ll do it gallantly.’
“Two or three batteries were then thrown up, and the cannon began. They
played at one another for half an hour or so, and made a terrible noise,
but we could not see what execution was done. The French arena bad at
long range, but their patience is unco short At last out came a
detachment of their army on the north side of the town, as gin they
meant to turn our flank, and then we and the Grenadier Guards were drawn
up to face them. On they came very boldly, wi’ a regiment of cavalry on
their right They were so very grand looking that I thought we were all
to be smashed to pieces.
“'Steady, my Highlanders,’ cried Keith, 'there’s help at hand.’ With
that a regiment of our dragoons came trotting up, and took their station
on our left On the enemy came, bold as lions, and fired into our lines.
A monstrous hash felL Then we gave them our charge, and rushed at them
double quick wi’ the begonets. They did not wait for us, but turned back
towards the town. We were close at their heels, and in we plunged a’
thegither among their cannon. Two or three regiments o’ Bruns-wickers
came up at this time, and we drove the French from their guns at all
points. They tried again and again to take them from us, but to no
effect At last they came in a strong body up the street, but now our
cannon were brought forward and made terrible havoc o’ them.
“‘Now, my lads,’ cried Keith, ‘clear the Gallowgate!’
“With that we down upon them with a great cheer. There was some begonet
wark there, I can tell ye. The front o’ the column reeled back. We gave
another cheer, and then they ran like mad. But just as they were getting
dear o’ the street at the ither end, they were taken in flank by a
Prussian regiment, and broken to pieces. Then there was such a pursuing,
an’ cheering, an’ roaring, an’ hacking, an’ hashing, as the like was
never seen afore or since.
“That was Fellinghausen, sirs, and grim wark it was! ”
“Bo-o-oney!” lan would here contemptuously exclaim, “wi’ his mail dad
cuirassiers wad hae deen little there! Pinna tell me. Gin the Prince o’
Brunswick wi’ sic an army as he had that day cu’d hae met him, he wad
hae made mice-meat o’ him and his cuirassiers baith.”
Ian’s exdtement had by this time reached the culminating point, and had
anyone been hardy enough to question his assertion he would have run no
little risk of receiving a tangible proof of the physical powers of the
old champion of the Bruns wicker.
“That evening,” Ian would conclude, “General Keith made a speech to us,
and thankit us, in the name o’ the Prince o’ Brunswick, for our gallant
behaviour. We had little trouble o’ the French for nearly a year after
this.”
Though the battle #of Fellinghausen is not the important event in
history which it was in the eyes of the old soldier, it was of
sufficient consequence to induce the French to withdraw from Westphalia,
and had a considerable influence in bringing the Seven Years’ war to a
close.
In the general order after the battle the Duke of Brunswick thus refers
to the conduct of the troops—“His Serene Highness Duke Ferdinand of
Brunswick has been graciously pleased to order Colonel Beckwith to
signify to the brigade he has the honour to command his entire
approbation of their conduct on the 15th and 16th of July. The
soldier-like perseverance of the Highland regiments, in resisting and
repulsing the repeated attacks of the chosen troops of France, has
deservedly gained them the highest honours. The ardour and activity with
which the Grenadiers pushed and pursued the enemy, and the trophies
which they have taken, justly entitle them to the highest encomiums. The
intrepidity of the little band of Highlanders merits the greatest
praise.” Colonel Beckwith adds, “The humanity and generosity with which
the soldiers treated the great flock of prisoners they took does them as
much honour as their subduing the enemy.” Beckwith was the
Brigadier-Commander, but Ian recognised no officer between Keith, the
Colonel of his own regiment, and the Commander-in-Chief. Next to the
Prince of Brunswick, Colonel Keith was his idol; and through him, and
him alone, did he understand all communications were carried on between
the regiment and headquarters.
The foregoing is but a brief epitome of Ian’s account of the battle of
FelUnghausen. When narrated at length, with all the explanations which
his audience required, it usually occupied the whole of a fore-night’s
sederunt On the following evenings considerable tact was required to
keep any other story he might begin from drifting into this, which, if
he once entered upon it, no art could seduce him either to intermit or
abbreviate.
“Now, Ian,” the gudeman would lead off, with the intention of keeping
the old soldier off his favourite narrative, “you told us last night how
you beat the French at Felling-hausen, but didna the French ever get the
better o’ you?”
“Ah, weel! I canna say that they ever gained a battle a’ thegither, but
ance or twice they were gey hard on’s. I’ve heard it said that they did
ance gain something like a battle at a place they ca’ Briggan-up-some
(Bergen op Zoom), but that wis lang afore I jined the force. I mind
mysel’, though, we had rather the warst o’ a battle, owan’ to some
coordly louns o’ Germans that widna’ stan’ up.
“It was i’ the go-hairst, weel on to Hallow-een, a Major Pollox, ane o’
the Grenadier officers, a clever an’ daran’ chiel, took about a hunner
o’ his ain regiment, an’ as mony o’ us, an’ ye widna hinder him tae gang
an’ beat up the French quarters i’ the nicht time, wi’ the design o’
takan’ the Marshal himseP prisoner. Naebody ever heard tell o’ the like,
’cep’ ance i’ the auld wars atween England and Scotland, when they say
the Douglas very nearly caitiet aff the English king fae the mids o’ his
ain army. Aweel, as I was sayan’, Pollox, he took twa hunner men wi’
him, an’ awa he gaed to capture the French Marshal. We marched as quiet
’s pussy, an’ managed to get past the ooter sentries unnoticed. But just
when we was at the door o’ the house where we kent the Marshal was, the
guardsman called out in his ain lan’age, *Kee-wheue?’*
“Pollox made nae answer, but rushed at him wi’ his drawn sword, an’ ran
him richt through the heart. But a dyan’ man, they say, is a dangerous
man. He turned just as he was fa’an, an’ fired his pistol into Pollox’s
breast, an’ baith dropt to the grun’ stock dead. But the firin’ o’ the
pistol had given the alarm, an’ we had to cut our way through the enemy
back to our ain army. It was a terrible ventursome thing, but we didna
lose a man, less poor Pollox.
“Aweel, next day an attack was made on the French. Our regiment was in
the front line, an’ up we marched till within musket shot, though their
cannon wis blazing at us a’ the time; but then we came to a ditch, an’ a
big bank o’ earth on the ither side o’t An’ syne the French, hidan’
behind this bank, opened on us a terrible fire, an’ the Germans turned
tail, an’ ran fort. A great lot o’ us were killed, an’ we was mad wi’
rage that we cu’dna get at them. We widna rin, an’ we cu’dna advance, so
there we stood firan’ awa’ till our ammunition was nearly done, an’
makan’ naething o’t At last positive orders came f’ae the Prince himsel’,
that we should withdraw; an’ our general was blamed for keepan’ ’s so
lang there after the rest of the army had retired. But we paid the
French back for this at Fellinghausen.
“Ah, fine do I mind that nicht i’ the middle o’ summer, when after we
had taen our supper,” and so forth to the end of the narrative, with a
march as resolute and unswerving as his conduct had been in the action
itself.
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