, his Hearse and Funeral
Company. Adieu, a pitying adieu to him forever,--and even to his adoring
La Beaumelle, who is rather less a blockhead than he generally seems.

This of the Two Capuchins, the last consummation of collapse in man, is
what Voltaire cannot forget, but crows over with his shrillest
mockery; and seldom mentions Maupertuis without that last touch to his
life-drama.

GRAND FRENCH INVASION-SCHEME COMES ENTIRELY TO WRECK (Quiberon Bay, 20th
November, 1759): OF CONTROLLER-GENERAL SILHOUETTE, AND THE OUTLOOKS OF
FRANCE, FINANCIAL AND OTHER.

On the very day of Maxen, Tuesday, November 20th, the grand French
Invasion found its terminus,--not on the shores of Britain, but
of Brittany, to its surprise. We saw Rodney burn the Flat-bottom
manufactory at Havre; Boscawen chase the Toulon Squadron, till it ended
on the rocks of Lagos. From January onwards, as was then mentioned,
Hawke had been keeping watch, off Brest Harbor, on Admiral Conflans,
who presides there over multifarious preparations, with the last Fleet
France now has. At Vannes, where Hawke likewise has ships watching,
are multifarious preparations; new Flat-bottoms, 18,000 troops,--could
Conflans and they only get to sea. At the long last, they did get;--in
manner following:--

"November 9th, a wild gale of wind had blown Hawke out of sight; away
home to Torbay, for the moment. 'Now is the time!' thought Conflans, and
put to sea (November 14th); met by Hawke, who had weighed from Torbay
to his duty; and who, of course, crowded every sail, after hearing that
Conflans was out. At break of day, November 20th [in the very hours when
poor Finck was embattling himself round Maxen, and Daun sprawling up
upon him through the Passes], Hawke had had signal, 'A Fleet in sight;'
and soon after, 'Conflans in sight,'--and the day of trial come.

"Conflans is about the strength of Hawke, and France expects much of
him; but he is not expecting Hawke. Conflans is busy, at this moment,
in the mouth of Quiberon Bay, opening the road for Vannes and the
18,000;--in hot chase, at the moment, of a Commodore Duff and his small
Squadron, who have been keeping watch there, and are now running all
they can. On a sudden, to the astonishment of Conflans, this little
Squadron whirls round, every ship of it (with a sky-rending cheer, could
he hear it), and commences chasing! Conflans, taking survey, sees that
it is Hawke; he, sure enough, coming down from windward yond