The year 1759 has been described as one of the most glorious years in the history of England, a year during which “it was necessary to ask every morning what new victory there was, for fear of missing one.” The early part of the year was, indeed, one of “magnanimous fear”—as Pitt called it—for the French were known to be making unparalleled efforts for the invasion of England with the proud hope of entire conquest, and in Germany, in America, and in India, England was at war. Hostile fleets were assembled at Havre, Brest, Dunkirk, and Toulon. The fleet at Havre was an immediate menace to the English coasts; the Brest squadron was destined for the invasion of Ireland, the ships at Dunkirk were commissioned to harass Scotland, while it was hoped that the Toulon fleet would supply reinforcements wherever needed. In France this naval combination was regarded as irresistible.
But Pitt had aroused the national spirit, and aggressive reprisals were adopted with enthusiasm. Admiral Rodney was entrusted with an attack upon Havre, where a vast number of flat-bottomed boats with a quantity of military stores of all kinds had been prepared to assist in the projected invasion. On July 3rd he anchored in Havre roads. The French commander had been forewarned of the English approach, and had made ample preparations for resistance. Powerful batteries had been erected all along the shore, and on both sides of the river’s mouth; these were garrisoned with several thousand men, who opened a heavy fire on the squadron the moment it came within gunshot. The pilots proved wholly ignorant of the place, but some of Rodney’s captains worked all night in taking soundings. The bombardment was continued without intermission for two days and two nights. Nearly all the French transports and boats were burnt, with all the warehouses containing the stores; and Havre itself was so disabled as to be valueless as an arsenal during the remainder of the war.
In August the Toulon fleet slipped through the Straits of Gibraltar, with the intention of re-inforcing the Brest fleet; only, however, to be vigorously attacked and decisively defeated by Admiral Boscawen, who gave battle in Lagos Bay off the south coast of Portugal; meanwhile the ships at Dunkirk were blockaded by Admiral Boyce.
In May, Admiral (afterwards Lord) Hawke was ordered to blockade the Brest fleet. For six months the blockade lasted. The gales and the difficulty of victualling the fleet governed the situation. When a westerly gale sprang up, the French could not get out to sea from Brest; but there was the great danger of some of the English ships being driven on shore, and the question was “How to get the fleet into a place of safety, like Plymouth or Torbay, and out again before the wind changed and allowed the French to sail.” It was like “a cat watching a mouse.” The difficulties of the commissariat may be estimated by a letter in which Hawke wrote to the responsible officer at Plymouth: “The beer brewed at your port is so excessively bad that it employs the whole of the time of the squadron in surveying it and throwing it overboard…. A quantity of bread will be returned to you; though not altogether unfit for use, yet so full of weevils and maggots that it would have infected all the bread come on board this day.”
The fierce gales of November made Hawke’s task of keeping a large fleet in the Bay of Biscay one of supreme difficulty, and unusually wild weather compelled him to run for shelter in Torbay. On the 14th the storm abated, and De Conflans, seeing the coast clear, put to sea. The same day Hawke left the shelter of the English coast; on the 16th he was off Ushant. “On that afternoon,” writes Dr. John Campbell, “several English transports returning from Quiberon Bay passed through the fleet, and informed the admiral that they had seen the French squadron on the preceding day, standing to the south-east, and distant about twenty-three leagues from Belle-Isle.” The intelligence was received by the whole British fleet with acclamations, and every ship prepared for action. The wind also became favourable and every sail was spread to catch the gale.
On the 20th, about half an hour after eight o’clock in the morning, the Maidstone frigate let fly her top-gallant sails, which was a signal for discovering a fleet. About nine, Lord Howe, in the Magnanime, made signal that they were enemies. Sir Edward Hawke immediately told his officers that he did not intend to trouble himself with forming lines, but would attack them in the old way, to make downright work with them; and accordingly he threw out a signal for seven of his ships to chase, in order to allure the enemy to fight.
As the British neared the French, the weather became squally and rough; but Conflans in a very gallant style seemed to offer battle: his courage, however, soon cooled, and long before the fleets were within the range of shot, he changed his plan, and stood right before the wind toward the shore. It was two in the afternoon before our headmost ships could get up with his rear; but at that time the Warspite and Dorsetshire began to fire.
The imagination can conceive nothing more sublime than the spectacle which the hostile squadrons presented at this moment. A dreadful storm darkened the face of the heavens; the sea was rolling in tremendous waves which on all sides were dashing themselves into foam on treacherous rocks and shallows unknown to the English pilots. In the midst of these terrible circumstances, calculated, from the very majesty of the physical power in action, to awe and intimidate, two adverse navies, the greatest that had been employed in one of the greatest wars in the annals of Europe, freighted with the fate, and worthy of being intrusted with the glory of the rival nations, were preparing for battle.
It was a moment as if nature had resolved to contrast the tameness of physical terror with the grandeur of heroism, and to show how much more sublime are the moral sentiments of a collected mind than all the awful phenomena of the heavens darkened, and the ocean agitated by a tempest, with the multifarious dangers of secret rocks and unknown shallows.
In the open sea Conflans might have hazarded a battle without the imputation of temerity, as his fleet was equal in force to that of Hawke, but like a prudent commander he endeavoured to avail himself of all the advantages arising from the local knowledge of his pilots, who were well acquainted with the navigation of the shallows. He directed them to steer in such a manner as to decoy the English among the rocks. But the very execution of this proceeding, which at the time was thought disreputable to his character as a commander, required more time in execution than the occasion allowed, and the British ships came up with the French before they were well prepared for action.
At half an hour after two o’clock the British van opened fire on the French rear. The Formidable, a French man-of-war, commanded by Admiral de Verger, a man of great courage and noble determination, behaved in the most heroic manner; broadside after broadside were poured into her by the British as they sailed successively past towards the van of the enemy; and she returned their fire with a promptitude that excited the admiration of friends and foes.
In the meantime, the Royal George, with Hawke on board, was approaching the Soleil Royal, which bore the flag of Conflans. Intent, as it were, only on her prey, she passed on without heeding the shot of the other ships. The sea was dashing over her bows, and as she came rapidly nearer, she appeared as if she had been actuated by the furiousness of rage. Her pilot, seeing the breakers foaming on every side, told the admiral that he could not go farther, without the most imminent danger from the shoals. “You have done your duty in pointing out the danger,” said Hawke, “but lay me alongside of the Soleil Royal.” The pilot bowed in obedience, and gave the necessary orders.
The Superbe, a French ship of seventy guns, perceiving what was intended by the movements of the English admiral, generously interposed between her commander and received the whole fatal broadside which the Royal George had intended for Monsieur Conflans. The thunder of the explosion was succeeded by a wild shriek from all on board. The British sailors gave a shout of triumph, which was instantly checked by a far other feeling; for the smoke clearing away, only the masts of the Superbe, with her colours still flying, were seen above the water, and in a moment they were covered by a roll of the sea, and seen no more; but the Soleil Royal was spared; she escaped to the shore, where she was afterwards burnt with disgrace.
About four in the afternoon, the Formidable, which had maintained the whole battle with such heroic determination, struck her colours; but not until after all her officers had been killed. The Héros, a seventy-four, also struck, and the Thésée, of seventy guns, was sunk like the Superbe.
Darkness coming on, the remainder of the enemy’s fleet fled; seven ships of the line hove their guns overboard, and ran into the River Villaine; about as many more, in a shattered condition, escaped to other ports. The wind blowing strong in shore, Hawke made the signal for anchoring to the westward of the small island of Durnel. Here the fleet remained during the night, and as the tempest continued to increase, the darkness was occasionally broken by the flashes of cannon and the howl of the wind; and the roar of the breakers was augmented in horror by the sound of guns of distress. “This action, more memorable on account of the terrific circumstances in which it was fought, than any other of equal magnitude in the annals of heroic achievement,” put an end to the naval power of France for many years, and therefore, to all fear of invasion. It, moreover, indicated the overwhelming superiority of the English marine.
The capture of Goree in January, and of Guadaloupe in June, the victory of Minden in August, and of Lagos in September, the capture of Quebec in October, and the crowning victory of Quiberon Bay in November have immortalised “the glorious fifty-nine” in English history.