France Surrenders to Aunt Jemima

Well it was 1797 and the invaders were the French. Not many people know that. Exactly why they decided to invade from a little Welsh cove called Fishguard (now a ferry port) isn’t clear. It seems they had intended to go ashore somewhere on South England but the grim February weather had prevented them. The plan was to take West Wales, then Bristol and then London (though some reports talk of an intended march to Liverpool). The idea was to gain recruits as they went along by a rallying call to support the French revolution. Surely the British peasants would join in?Whatever way they intended to do, and wherever they intended to go, they were thwarted, their plans in ruins within 24 hours of the landing. Within two days they surrendered.

Yet – and here is the strange thing - there was no armed resistance to the invasion. Instead, a single Welsh woman of independent spirit, a cobbler by trade and built like an ox, gave the 1400 -- 2000 soldiers the bums rush.

The French troops had landed along the coast and the first the local population knew of them was when they gate crashed a wedding party and walked off with all the food and alcohol. Within a few hours of invasion the army was mostly lateral having imbibed too much Welsh ale.

Aunt Jemima (as she is now fondly called) realized the peril. Armed with a pitch fork this formidable woman set about rounding the French rag-taggle army up. She locked them in her shop and then took the defence of Britain into her own hands. She sent a rallying cry to all the Welsh woman to don their traditional costumes and meet on a spot above the landing base of the French soldiers en mass.

Once on the hill, clearly seen by the French troops, the women circled. They walked around the hill all morning. There were not many of them but at a distance they seemed like an endless supply of soldier reinforcements (both wore red and clack). The illusion was perfect.

“Over the shoulders of each flamed the bright red shawl characteristic of Welsh women. As they passed round a little ridge, they would quickly run back, hidden from sight in the little valley, and then once more march across the face of the hill.”

It was all too much for the French Admiral who cursed the English soldiers who (he had been assured) would never come to the aid of the fractious and independent Welsh. He offered His surrender. At the official signing he realized his error but it was too late. Jemima had sent them packing!

So raise a glass and drink a toast to the spirit of true liberty and the willingness of Jemima to fight for what was hers! Oh and by all means drink another to the image of the French sailors returning home with their tails between their legs.

To Jemima!