Lord,—In consequence of having received information on Wednesday night, at eleven o’clock, that three large ships of war and a lugger had anchored in a small roadstead upon the coast, in the neighbourhood of this town, I proceeded immediately with a detachment of the Cardiganshire Militia and all the provincial force I could collect to the place.  I soon gained positive intelligence they had disembarked about 1,200 men, but no cannon.  Upon the night setting in a French officer, whom I found to be second in command, came in with a letter (a copy of which I sent your Grace, together with my answer), [18] in consequence of which they determined to surrender themselves prisoners of war, and, accordingly, laid down their arms this day at two o’clock.  I cannot, at this moment, inform your Grace the exact number of prisoners, but I believe it to be their whole force.  It is my intention to march them this night to Haverfordwest, where I shall make the best distribution in my power.  The frigates, corvette, and lugger got under weigh yesterday evening, and were this morning entirely out of sight.  The fatigue we experienced will, I trust, excuse me to your Grace for not giving a more particular detail; but my anxiety to do justice to the officers and men I had the honour to command, will induce me to attend your Grace with as little delay as possible, to state their merits and, at the same time, to give you every information in my power on this subject.  The spirit and loyalty which has pervaded all ranks throughout the country is infinitely beyond what I can express.

“I am, &c.,
“Cawdor.”

Lord Cawdor’s “distribution” took the form of placing 700 men in the beautiful old church of St. Mary’s (which they greatly injured), 500 in the Town Hall, and the remainder in the store-houses of Haverfordwest.  The officers were allowed out on parole, and one of them showed scant respect for his word of honour, for he was discovered at a silversmith’s trying to barter an old silver cup for coin of the realm, with which doubtless to escape to France.  There were some letters on the cup which he chose to decipher as “La Vendée”; they turned out on inspection to be “Llanwnda,” from which church the chalice had been stolen, and where it was at once returned, while the officer was transferred from the “Castle Hotel” to the Castle jail—a very different place.

A number of the prisoners were shortly after sent on to Carmarthen and to Pembroke, where the romantic episode of the escape from the Golden Prison occurred exactly as given in the narrative.  The arms and ammunition taken from the French filled fifty-five carts; their muskets were the ordinary weapon of the period, with flint locks, barrels 3ft. 7in., whole length 4ft. 10in., weight 9¾lbs.  Lord Cawdor presented two of these muskets to the Tenby Museum, and Mr. Mathias gave a short sword and scabbard.  On each side of the sword are represented sun, moon, and stars, with the inscription Cassaguard, Fourbisseur du Roy, Nantes.  There are half-a-dozen cannonballs—nine pounders—at the house of Eleanor Rees, of Goodwick, which were given to her father by the French—a curious toy for a small boy of two or three years of age.  The invaders seem to have been very kind to this young Taffy, nursed him on their knees, and made much of him, and finally presented him with this strange gage d’amour.  He was probably a plucky little fellow, for he grew into a brave man, and was awarded a medal for having at various times saved many lives, going out in his own boat to shipwrecked vessels and rescuing the crews—when the Lady Kenmare foundered he saved, among others, two ladies and some children, bringing them through a tremendous sea, “in their night-dresses, as wet as sops,” the narrator added.

Most of the prisoners were finally sent back to France, when it was discovered what manner of men they were.  Lord Cawdor took General Tate and some of the other officers to London, whence they were consigned to Dartmoor.  This personally-conducted journey through England was not without peril.  The people were greatly incensed against the French, and were quite ready to carry out Lynch law on these unhappy men, and in the excitement of the moment a mob does not always discriminate between its friends and its foes.  It was fortunate for Tate and his fellows, and still more fortunate for Pembrokeshire, that the conduct of the whole affair from first to last was in such able and determined hands as those of Lord Cawdor.  A letter from him to Lady Cawdor (hitherto unpublished, and for which I am indebted to Mr. Laws), gives a very vivid account of this journey.

“Oxford Street,

“Monday morn, March 13, 1797.

“I have at length the satisfaction of an hour’s time free from interruption to give you a short account of our employment, etc., since I quitted you, but shall reserve much of the detail for your amusement when we meet, a moment I ardently long for.  Near Tavern Spite I met a messenger, with the D. of Portland’s despatches to me signifying the King’s approbation of my conduct, which probably General Rooke has shown you, accompanied also by a handsome and flattering private letter from the Duke.  Upon my arrival at Carmarthen I immediately sent off the messenger with my letters, and finding the impossibility of procuring horses until the following morn was in the expectation of getting a quiet night, having procured a bed at a private house; but an alarm of a fire in the town joined to confusion created by the report of a landing in great force in Glamorganshire, which I knew must have no foundation, prevented my obtaining sleep for one moment.  Early in the morn we left Carmarthen, with three chaises; in the first, Joe Adams had charge of Tate and Captain Tyrell, the first alarmed and confused, the second a stupid Paddy.  I had Le Brun with me, as dirty as a pig, but more intelligent and better manners; in the last, Lord E. Somerset had the care of Captain Norris and Lieutenant St. Leger, both greatly frightened, they had but little conversation.  The whole road we passed through great crowds of people at all the places were (sic) we changed horses, and thro’ Wales tho’ the indignation of the people was great, I found my influence would protect them without difficulty.  The women were more clamorous than the men, making signs to cut their throats, and desiring I would not take the trouble of carrying them further.  All the military assistance I could get at Oxford as a guard for the night was a sergeant of your friend and landlord, and two recruits, but I had no apprehension of their escape as their remain (sic) with us was the only thing that ensured their safety.  At Uxbridge the rage of the mob was chiefly directed against Tate, who