of foot and horse
were discernible; and, by their uniforms, they appeared to be regular
troops. The young Rear Admiral sent an officer in all haste to warn
Talmash. But Talmash was so completely possessed by the notion that
the French were not prepared to repel an attack that he disregarded all
cautions and would not even trust his own eyes. He felt sure that the
force which he saw assembled on the shore was a mere rabble of peasants,
who had been brought together in haste from the surrounding country.
Confident that these mock soldiers would run like sheep before real
soldiers, he ordered his men to pull for the beach. He was soon
undeceived. A terrible fire mowed down his troops faster than they
could get on shore. He had himself scarcely sprung on dry ground when he
received a wound in the thigh from a cannon ball, and was carried back
to his skiff. His men reembarked in confusion. Ships and boats made
haste to get out of the bay, but did not succeed till four hundred
seamen and seven hundred soldiers had fallen. During many days the waves
continued to throw up pierced and shattered corpses on the beach of
Brittany. The battery from which Talmash received his wound is called,
to this day, the Englishman's Death.

The unhappy general was laid on his couch; and a council of war was held
in his cabin. He was for going straight into the harbour of Brest
and bombarding the town. But this suggestion, which indicated but too
clearly that his judgment had been affected by the irritation of a
wounded body and a wounded mind, was wisely rejected by the naval
officers. The armament returned to Portsmouth. There Talmash died,
exclaiming with his last breath that he had been lured into a snare by
treachery. The public grief and indignation were loudly expressed. The
nation remembered the services of the unfortunate general, forgave his
rashness, pitied his sufferings, and execrated the unknown traitors
whose machinations had been fatal to him. There were many conjectures
and many rumours. Some sturdy Englishmen, misled by national prejudice,
swore that none of our plans would ever be kept a secret from the enemy
while French refugees were in high military command. Some zealous Whigs,
misled by party sprit, muttered that the Court of Saint Germains would
never want good intelligence while a single Tory remained in the Cabinet
Council. The real criminal was not named; nor, till the archives of the
House of Stuart were explored, wa