ABSTRACT
Tate’s Landing: The last foreign invasion of Britain On 22 February 1797, the last foreign invasion of Britain occurred when a motley band of c.1200 French troops descended on a poorly defended spot of the Welsh coast in Fishguard Bay about 150 miles overland to Bristol.1 This Black Legion, commanded by an exiled veteran of the American Revolution, Colonel William Tate, included some seasoned troops but many irregulars, deserters, released royalist prisoners, and even convicts.2 Back in France Theobald Wolfe Tone (1763-1798), who was to become an iconic hero of Irish nationalism, had even derided them as ‘banditti... and sad blackguards’.3 (Tone was a secret negotiator who had arrived in Paris on 1 February 1796 and received a French commission in July.4) Despite outnumbering local forces, Tate surrendered after two days as
many of his well-armed desperadoes had descended into drunkenness and plunder. The fiasco triggered a frenzied rush on cash worsening Britain’s financial crisis, but also called loyal Britons to arms to prepare for further invasions while coastal defences were reinforced. Cherished in Welsh folk memory due to the bravery and patriotism displayed by civilians (including females in red cloaks), this odd occurrence of state-sanctioned irregular warfare is little known in the annals of history. There is a small plaque on the Welsh coastal footpath commemorating the landing,5 but the whole episode is not widely enough known to challenge the popular claim that Britain has never been invaded since 1066. When referenced at all in more recent times, the episode has been succinctly written off by Frenchmen as an embarrassing reminder of a bygone age of both romantic and reckless campaigns, fuelled by revolutionary fanaticism, facilitated by divisive government, symptomatic of a weak navy, and often reliant on reprobate adventurers rather than professional soldiers. One French military author, Ge´ne´ral Paul-Constant-Ame´de´e Gastey, clarified he had not included the Tate invasion in his article on General Humbert’s brief campaign in Ireland in 1798, as it was but ‘a dishonourable affair led by a band of guttersnipes... which ended lamentably’.6
