FOOTNOTES:
[71] At Rospeith, in this parish, according to Davies Gilbert, P.R.S., the last native wolf in England was seen.
[72] The Manor of Borlase-Burgess, formerly the seat of the Borlase family in St. Wenn, 'is said to have been given by William Rufus to a certain Norman who was Lord of Talfer in that country, and whose posterity assumed the name of Borlase.'—(Borlase's MSS.)
[73] At Pendeen lived, in the time of Henry VII., one Richard Pendyne, 'one of the rebels who, under Lord Audley, Flammock, and Joseph,' dismantled Tehidy, the residence of John Basset, then Sheriff of the County, and did much other mischief in the West—an offence which he expiated by losing his estates.
[74] According to Kippis, it was the St. Just living which was subsequently procured through this interest.
[75] Second book of the 'Antiquities of Cornwall.'
[76] Borlase was a bounteous contributor of minerals for the adornment of Pope's grotto, in which the poet fixed his Cornish friend's name in capital letters, formed of crystals; gracefully saying that he had placed them where they would remind him of the donor—'in the shade, but shining.'
[77] The Doctor was one of the old-fashioned Churchmen who dreaded trop de zèle, and, probably without much reluctance, issued in his magisterial capacity a warrant to 'apprehend all such able-bodied men as had no lawful calling or sufficient maintenance;' in fact, he was afraid of riots amongst his excitable parishioners. The squabble is recorded in the great Revivalist's journals for the summers of 1784 and 1785. But the end of the affair was that Wesley, having on the first occasion appeared before the Bench at St. Michael's Mount, and on the second having called upon Dr. Borlase himself, at St. Just, in response to the warrant, on the latter occasion found that the Doctor had gone to church—and so the matter ended.
[78] It was his habit to rise at five, and go to bed at nine.
[79] A second edition was published in London in 1769.
[THE BOSCAWENS.]
THE BOSCAWENS.
A novel feature presents itself in this case to the would-be historian which does not appear, at least to so great an extent, in the cases of certain other distinguished Cornish families. The Killigrews, the Arundells, the Godolphins, and the Grenvilles, for instance, all yielded more than one man of mark deserving of special notice; but this can hardly be said of the family of Boscawen: the interest centres in Admiral the Honourable Edward Boscawen, almost to the exclusion of all his ancestors, and of all his descendants. And he affords another instance, like Opie, of being doubly secure of a niche in the temple of Fame, from his own distinguished career, as well as through the wit and distinguished social qualities of his wife; who, the writer regrets to add, was not—as the majority of her husband's ancestresses, and as those of most distinguished Cornishmen were—a Cornish-woman.
It would probably be of little use now to speculate upon the causes why the Boscawens, for at least five centuries, continued to hold a well-recognised position in the county, acquiring by their judicious marriages into wealthy families vast landed interests in various parts of Cornwall, but chiefly in the vicinities of Buryan and Tregothnan and in the north-western part of the county, doubtless holding their own amongst their fellows, and doing what the world would call their 'duty;' and yet contributing, so far as I can ascertain, scarcely one person whose name is to be found in the usual records of English history until we reach the eighteenth century.
Yet it must be noted that the Boscawens are of very old standing in Cornwall. Hals indeed tells us that the first Boscawen who settled in Cornwall was an Irish gentleman;—and Hals may be right; for he had peculiar facilities for learning the early traditions of the family from the neighbourhood of Fentongollan (the seat of the Halses) to Tregothnan, the seat of the Boscawens; and also from the fact that one member of the family 'Hugh Boscawen, Gent., Master of Arts,' as a labour of love, taught young Hals, and many other youngsters, all that they knew of Latin and Greek in an old school-house in St. Michael Penkivel Church.[80] Nor was the Master of Arts the only member of the family who dispensed information free of charge; for Hals tells us of a Charles Boscawen of Nansavallan who was a barrister-at-law, 'and who made noe further use thereof in his elder years then to councill and assist his friends in all their lawe concerns gratis.' He died in London, without issue; and was Member of Parliament for Truro,—an ancient borough, with which, as we shall see, the Boscawens were intimately connected.
At Boscawen Rose, in the parish of St. Buryan, within a few miles of the Land's End, where the name is still found attached to places in the parish, the first Boscawen is said to have exchanged his Irish patronymic for that of the place where he took up his abode, and which was probably well enough described by its Cornish name, which signifies the Valley of Elder-trees. It is interesting to notice how many of these trees (much esteemed by the old Cornish folk), and almost these alone, still are to be found near the wind-whipped shores of the Land's End.[81]
I find no record of the marriages of the first two or three generations; but in the reign of Edward I. (about 1292), Henry de Boscawen married Hawise Trewoof; and some half century later (1335) John de Boscawen married an heiress, Joan de Tregothnan,[82] thus establishing a connexion between those two names, which has ever since been maintained; for Tregothnan, 'the place of well-wooded valleys,' is still the family seat: it is now the Cornish residence of Evelyn Boscawen, sixth Viscount Falmouth. The present house, a handsome structure, was built by the architect, W. Wilkins, jun., about the year 1815, replacing a more picturesque but smaller and less commodious building.
Intimate relations with the exquisitely wooded banks of the Fal were still further established by the marriage of the son of the aforesaid John Boscawen of Tregothnan with another heiress, named Joan, like his mother, who brought her husband the wealth of the family of Albalanda or Blanchland, in the parish of Kea, on the opposite side of the river to Tregothnan; a place where, according to Lysons, copper was first successfully worked in Cornwall. And, while on this subject, it seems not unworthy of remark that the alliances of the Boscawens and the Albalandas with the families who resided on the Fal and its tributaries were numerous. Rose Albalanda married a William Dangrous of Carclew, in the fifth year of Edward III.; and the heiress of Trenowith, who married Hugh Boscawen, a great grandson of the first-named John, was herself the descendant of ancestors called after Tolverne, Trewarthenick and Tregarrick—names which still belong to places on the shores of the river, or hard by. Nor did the Boscawens neglect to cultivate acquaintance and to intermarry with other Cornish families who made more noise in the world than those to whom we have been referring; for they and the Albalandas also married with Arundell, Bassett, St. Aubyn, Lower, Godolphin, Carminow, and Trevanion.
He who married Elizabeth St. Aubyn for his first wife was one Richard Boscawen, who paid a fine of five pounds rather than undergo the expensive ceremony of being made a Knight of the Bath at the coronation of Henry VII., possibly because he was an old man, and dreaded a long journey to the metropolis, for he died four years afterwards, in 1489. His grandson, Hugh, who by the way married Phelip, a daughter of the fine old Cornish family of Carminow, now extinct, paid a similar fine of four marks at the coronation of Queen Mary; for what reason I know not. In the 'Bayliff of Blackmore' there is a long story of his being outwitted by a family in Truro; but the course pursued by these Boscawens, as narrated in that curious MS., was not unusual in those days. With the great-grandson of the last-named Hugh, himself bearing the same Christian name, commences, so far as I am aware, a more particular connexion of the family with the ancient borough, now the city, of Truro, where the principal street (formerly two streets, then bearing other names, but now thrown into one) is still called after them, 'Boscawen.' He was chosen Knight of the Shire for Cornwall in 1626; and Edward, his fifth son, who represented Tregony in Parliament, was one of the leading members of the House of Commons, temp. Charles II. This Hugh, who was 'Chief of the Coat Armour' at the Heralds' Visitation of Cornwall in 1620, was likewise in that year Recorder of the Borough. He had three sons: Hugh,[83] of whom nothing seems to be known except that he married a Clinton; Edward, a rich Turkey merchant, who was a Member of Parliament, temp. Charles II., and died at Trefusis, a lovely place overlooking the waters of Falmouth Harbour; and Nicholas, who joined the Parliamentary army (a rare thing, by the way, for a Cornish gentleman to do) with a troop raised from among his own tenantry. But the military career of Nicholas Boscawen (how terminated I have not been able to ascertain) must have been a short one; for, when only twenty-two years of age and unmarried, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, whence his remains were removed some fifteen years afterwards, at the Restoration, to be flung into a common pit in St. Margaret's churchyard.
We now approach that part of the family history when the individual members cannot be quite so rapidly dismissed from notice.
The only son of Edward Boscawen (the Turkey merchant) and Jael Godolphin was another Hugh; who, like his father and uncles, seems to have been no friend to the Stuarts, and to have assisted in bringing to England William III. This no doubt explains his being made Captain of St. Mawes Castle, Warden of the Stannaries, Steward of the Duchy of Cornwall in the room of Francis Godolphin, Viscount Rialton; Comptroller of the Household; a Privy Councillor; and finally, in 1720, his being ennobled by the titles of Baron Boscawen Rose and Viscount Falmouth. He was also Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, a post which he resigned the year of his death. He several times, before gaining his title, sat for Cornwall in Parliament; but gave up all his appointments except that of Warden of the Stannaries, on the defeat of the Excise Scheme.
Hugh Boscawen seems to have been quite carried away by his political zeal, for he was foremost in arresting, or trying to arrest, any, even of his old friends, who were suspected of holding high monarchical principles; amongst whom may be named Sir Richard Vyvyan, of Trelowarren, and, as we have already seen,[84] Mr. Basset, of Tehidy. He died of an apoplexy, at Trefusis, in 1734, having married, in 1700, Charlotte Godfrey, a niece of the great Duke of Marlborough, by whom he had eighteen children, eight sons and ten daughters.
The second Viscount of the same name seems, though of a kind and gentle disposition, not to have possessed a very brilliant intellect. Davies Gilbert tells the story of him that he is said to have mistaken the phrase, 'Optat ephippia Bos,' for the Latin of his own name; and that he always confounded Horace Walpole with the Roman poet whose name is so familiar to us. Probably a somewhat unattractive sort of man, for his wife often threatened, so Mrs. Delany says, that she 'wou'd part with my lord.'
Yet he was not without shrewdness, and had some political influence. Votes which overthrew Sir Robert Walpole were carried against the Minister by his losing the majority of the Scotch and Cornish boroughs; the latter of which were managed by Lord Falmouth and Thomas Pitt. Indeed, the second Viscount Falmouth, like so many others of his contemporaries, was a great dealer in boroughs. It is of him that Dodington tells the story, that he went to the Minister to ask him a favour, which the latter seemed unwilling to grant; upon which Lord Falmouth said, 'Remember, sir, we are seven!' And Dover says that Lord Cowper resigned the Bedchamber on the 'Beefeaters' being given to Lord Falmouth:—'The latter, who is powerful in elections, insisted on having it; the other had nothing but a promise from the King, which the Ministry had already twice forced him to break.'
He was also Yeoman of the Guard to George II., and in 1745, according to Chauncey, raised a regiment at his own expense to serve against the Scotch rebels; and he had such influence in Cornwall that 6,387 persons joined an association, the members of which bound themselves to appear armed in the best manner they could, under his command, to defend the King and the Government. Mrs. Thomson, in her 'Memoirs of Viscountess Sandon,' tells us how the second Viscount's wife, H. C. M. Russell, née Smith, was in desperate straits to get herself appointed a Lady of the Bedchamber, and wrote the most pressing letters to Mrs. Clayton on the subject. In one she says that she could not sleep a wink all night for thinking of it!
His brother Nicholas went to Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, took holy orders, and on the Duke of Newcastle's visit to the University, as Chancellor, was created a D.D. He was appointed a King's Chaplain, and 'Dean' of Buryan in 1756, Rector of St. Mabyn and of St. Michael Penkivel in 1774, and a Prebendary of Westminster in 1777. The only remarkable thing about him seems to have been his appointment as 'Dean' of Buryan, the exact significance of which dignity it is difficult to discover, though it is said that this 'Deanery' had jurisdiction over three parishes, and the probate of wills therein, and that there were three prebends attached to it; it is not uninteresting to note this tendency in a member of the Boscawen family to 'hark back to their early St. Buryan haunts.[85] His wife, Mrs. Hatton, was, I believe, the widow of a linendraper in Newgate Street.
There was another brother, John—a Major-General in the army;—and the 4th son of the second Viscount, the Hon. George Boscawen, was another military member of the family; he was present at the battles of Dettingen and Fontenoy, and represented Truro in Parliament from 1761 to 1764. His daughter, Mary, maid-of-honour to the Princess Charlotte, wrote a memoir of the Princess.
William Boscawen, younger son of the above General George Boscawen, was educated at Eton, where he became a great favourite of Dr. Barnard. He became a Gentleman Commoner of Exeter College, and on settling in London studied law under a Cornish lawyer, Mr. Justice Buller, about 1770, and went the Western Circuit. William Boscawen does not appear to have taken his degree at Oxford; but Wordsworth, in his 'Scholæ Academicæ,' points out that it was not unusual during the last century, and at the commencement of the present, for gentlemen intending for the law to leave the University without taking a degree. He published two or three law treatises, was a Commissioner in Bankruptcy, and in 1785 he was made a Commissioner of the Victualling Office. By his marriage with Charlotte Ibbetson he had five daughters. He was much attached to literary pursuits, and translated, first the 'Odes,' 'Epodes,' and 'Carmen Seculare' of Horace, then the 'Satires,' 'Epistles,' and 'Art of Poetry;'—and in many respects his translation was considered superior to Francis's. He was much indebted for his 'notes' to Dr. Foster, of Eton College. In 1801, he published some original poems and other works. A friend who met him in the Strand a few days before his death noticed that he was looking very ill; and on the 8th May, 1811, he died of asthma, at Little Chelsea. He was of an affectionate and benevolent disposition; and the Literary Fund he considered almost as his own child, writing the annual verses for it till within five years of his death.
A contemporary critic says of his literary productions, that if in them 'he does not take a lead among his contemporaries, he at least discovers an elegant taste, a poetical mind, and a correct versification.' 'Could his character be truly drawn, it would exhibit a consummate picture of everything that is amiable and estimable in human nature.' 'Incapable of being an enemy, it was never known that he had one; and his friends were as numerous as his virtues.'
As a specimen of his powers as a translator, his rendering of the well-known fifth ode of the 1st Book of Horace, will, I venture to think, compare, not altogether unfavourably, with the productions of his mightier predecessors in the task—Milton and Cowley.
'What youth bedew'd with moist perfume
Courts thee, O Pyrrha! graceful maid,
With neat simplicity array'd
In the sweet bower where roses bloom?
'For whom dost thou in ringlets form
Thy golden locks?—Oft shall he wail
Thy truth, swift changing as the gale,
View the wild waves, and shudder at the storm.
'Who now, all credulous and gay,
Enjoys thy smile? on whose vain pride
Thy fickle favour shines untry'd,
And soft, deceitful breezes play?
'My fate the pictur'd wreck displays;
The dripping garments that remain
In mighty Neptune's sacred fane
Record my glad escape, my grateful praise.'
But a third brother of the second Viscount—Edward, the Admiral—was destined to live in the pages of history; and of him I propose to treat more at length at the conclusion of this brief sketch of the family generally, which now draws rapidly to a close.
George Evelyn, the Admiral's youngest son, was the third Viscount, issue having failed through his two uncles, and George Evelyn's brothers having died before the death of their uncle, the second Viscount. Of these brothers it may be observed, that Edward Hugh,[86] the eldest, who was M.P. for Truro, died abroad in 1774; and that William Glanville, a youth of great promise, and an officer in the navy, was drowned when eighteen years of age, in 1769, whilst bathing at Port Royal, Jamaica. In him, said Mrs. Delany, 'his father's (the Admiral's) merit revived,' and he was 'the delight and glory of the lives of his mother and sisters.' I hardly know whether the following lines on his death are from Mrs. Delany's pen, or from his mother's:
'Ah, William! till thy hapless hour
Shall fade on mem'ry's pensive eye
The muse on Fate shall curses shower,
That doomed a youth like thee to die.
'Though lost, alas! thy lovely name
With incense shall the skies perfume;
And ev'ry flower of fairest fame
Shall wish where William sleeps, to bloom.
'Till Virtue seek her native sphere,
Till honour cease below to shine,
For thee shall Virtue drop the tear,
And Honour's envied praise be thine.'
There can, however, be little doubt that it was a mother's pen which described him, on his cenotaph, as that 'most lovely, most beloved youth.'
But to return to the surviving and youngest brother, George Evelyn, who was destined to perpetuate the title. He is said to have been very like his mother, who describes herself as 'a little personage;' and he must have inherited the talents of both his parents, for he did remarkably well at Winchester, and very early showed a determination to follow in his illustrious father's footsteps by fighting against the enemies of his country, notwithstanding the wishes of his family to the contrary. For the sum of £400 his mother at last unwillingly procured for her 'poor little soldier,' as she termed him, an ensigncy in the 4th or King's Own Regiment of Foot; and he, proceeding forthwith to America, was soon after present at the battle of Lexington. When Prince William Henry, afterwards William IV., came into Falmouth harbour in the Hebe in 1785, he was entertained at Tregothnan, and thence, under Viscount Falmouth's guidance, visited all the Cornish 'lions.' On 25th October, 1787, Mrs. Boscawen writes thus to Mrs. Delany: 'My son has been a peacemaker in Cornwall, and was happy enough to pacify near a thousand angry miners, who were marching into Truro to pull their houses about their ears;' and here it may be noted that one of his ancestors had performed a similar valuable public service when the Hon. Hugh Boscawen, Lord Warden of the Stannaries of Cornwall and Devon, presided over the Convocation of the twenty-four Stannators, 20th February to 20th April, 1710, held in the Coinage Hall, Truro; on which occasion, by a judicious speech, he dispersed a mob of some 5,000 or 6,000 men, tinners and others, led by one Charles Tregea, who had assembled to intimidate the Convocation, and 'force them to a farm.' The object of this Convocation was 'to keep up the price of tin, and to confirm the laws, customs, and constitutions of the Stannaries;' but it led to no satisfactory result.
The third Viscount's two sisters married well—one, Frances, gained for her husband the Hon. John Leveson Gower, Secretary to the Admiralty; and the other, Elizabeth, secured Henry, fifth Duke of Beaufort—an affair which does not seem to have altogether satisfied that family. Her mother writes to Mrs. Delany, that the Beauforts were not particularly well pleased with the match;—'And yet, my dear madam,' says the sprightly Admiral's widow, 'does not Admiral Boscawen's daughter, with £10,000 now, and at least 5 (i.e. £5,000) more by-and-by, with many excellent wife-like qualities, and no faults that ever they heard of, deserve some gentler welcome, especially as nobody asks anything of them?' The Duke seems to have made the Cornish lassie a most devoted and affectionate husband.
George Evelyn Boscawen was succeeded in the title by his son, Edward, fourth Viscount and first Earl of Falmouth. He was an officer in the Coldstream Guards, and, like so many other members of his family, Recorder of Truro—the last who filled that office. He was the second of Lord Winchelsea in his famous duel with the Duke of Wellington, fought on Wimbledon Common in March, 1829, when the Duke fired and missed, and Lord Winchelsea then fired in the air and apologized. This nobleman rebuilt Tregothnan House, near the site of an older and picturesque mansion, in which might have been seen many carved stones from the old tower and chapel at Fentongollan; and he made the famous drive to it from Tresilian Bridge, an undertaking the result of which he is said to have always contemplated with much satisfaction. His son, George Henry, fifth Viscount, and second and last Earl, died unmarried in 1852, fourteen years after his father. He was a man of considerable ability, taking, in 1832, a first-class at Oxford; and he was one of the best amateur violinists of his day. As we have said, with him the earldom lapsed. His cousin Evelyn succeeded him as sixth Viscount, and has been one of the most distinguished patrons of the turf, as well as a most fortunate owner of race-horses, having, as I am informed, won the Derby, the St. Leger, and the Two Thousand Guineas twice, and the Oaks and the One Thousand Guineas four times each; besides other important races.
ADMIRAL THE RIGHT HON. EDWARD BOSCAWEN.
'My lov'd Boscawen dead! 'tis all a lye—
Fame's trumpet sounds "He cannot, shall not die—
At Lagos still triumphant he survives,
And still at Louisbourg immortal lives."'
Gentleman's Magazine, Jan., 1761.
'A great Admiral.'
Pitt.
The foregoing sketch of the history of the Boscawens seemed desirable in order to give the reader some idea of the sources from which Pitt's 'great Admiral' sprang, and to serve as a background to the family picture in which his figure is the most prominent. We have seen that the Boscawens were an ancient, wealthy, and not altogether undistinguished group of Cornishmen; and have noted that their seat had for ages been on the banks of that sylvan river which empties its waters into the once renowned Falmouth Haven. Here Edward Boscawen, third son of the first Viscount, was born on the 19th August, 1711; and, notwithstanding the absence (so far as I am aware) of any published details concerning the childhood and youth of the illustrious sailor, except the fact of his quaint humour in imitating the gestures of an old servant till he himself contracted a constant habit of carrying his head slightly on one side[87]—there can be little doubt, I think, that a good deal of the young sea-dog's leisure was spent on, or in, the Fal, which washes the shores of his ancestral woods and glades. We know, indeed, that he entered the navy whilst very young (when only twelve years old, so Campbell says), and this suggests the idea that the future 'old Dreadnought' may have found the limits of the sequestered Tregothnan estate and the quiet life led there incompatible with the high spirits which a lad of his quality must undoubtedly have possessed. In other words, we can but believe that he was a born sailor, and that he merited, from the first, another of his sobriquets,—derived from the heroic contempt of danger which he manifested throughout his life—'the brave Boscawen.' He no doubt expected that, in accordance with the practice of a century and a half ago, through family interest he would very shortly obtain his lieutenancy, when an order was suddenly and unexpectedly issued, subjecting all midshipmen to at least six years' service. 'To this order,' Boscawen used to say, 'I owe all my knowledge of seamanship.' At any rate, the new regulation did not change his views, nor prevent many other Cornish youngsters from entering the navy and serving under an officer who was as fond of having them about him as they were of sailing under his command. Amongst such may be named the Hon. George Edgcumbe,[88] afterwards Admiral of the White, who commanded the Lancaster of seventy guns at the famous siege of Louisbourg (of which we shall hear more by-and-by); and Admiral Sir Richard Spry, who commanded a similar ship, the Oxford, on that occasion.
And here it should be remembered how different in many respects is the position of the modern British sailor—true Briton as he still is, and is proving himself to be at Alexandria even whilst I write these lines—from the traditional sailor of Boscawen's days. Now, most of the sailors' work in our steam iron-clads is done on deck or below; but, at the period of which we are about to consider some episodes, the larger proportion—certainly the more difficult—was performed aloft. In weather of all sorts 'there were dead-eyes to turn in, there were chafing gear to look after, reef-points to knot, masts to stay, studding-sail gear to reeve, and the like.' Then the wild excitement of going aloft to shorten sail in stormy weather! The old songs at the reef-tackles, the flapping of the canvas, the springing into the shrouds, and the helter-skelter race for the weather-earing—unless, indeed, the iron-hard pressure of the gale pinned you against the shrouds as if you had been a spread-eagle. In work of this sort the English tars were always pre-eminent, and one can easily believe that the Admiral accordingly had a thoroughly hearty contempt for the unsailor-like character of the French crews. Of one he said he 'never saw so bad a crew on salt water before; there were not twenty men on board who could go aloft.'[89] Those, too, were days not only of rough work, but also of rough-and-ready fighting; and Boscawen's motto, like that of Hawke,[90] his illustrious contemporary and rival, was always, 'Strike.' One night Boscawen's lieutenant came to him, and awoke him, saying that they had fallen in with three ships of the enemy. 'What shall we do?' 'Why, fight 'em, to be sure!' said Boscawen; and, dashing up on deck in his night shirt, he soon compelled the enemy to sheer off. It was from this action that he is said to have acquired the name of Old Dreadnought. On another occasion he took off his wig, and with it stopped a leak in his boat, which was rapidly sinking.
As we have seen, he was the third son of the first Viscount Falmouth, and was called Edward after his grandfather. His grandmother, Jael, was of the fine old Cornish stock of Godolphin, and his mother was Charlotte Godfrey, a niece of the great Duke of Marlborough, not a natural daughter (as Hals says) of James II., by Arabella Churchill, but her eldest daughter, by Colonel Charles Godfrey, Master of the Jewel Office, whom she had subsequently married;—so that he seems to have had royal as well as good fighting blood in his veins, some of which he was destined to shed for his country. I do not know at what date he received his lieutenant's commission; probably it was on being appointed to the Hector in 1732; but on the 12th March, 1737, when not quite twenty-six years old, he was appointed captain of the Leopard, a fourth-rate of fifty guns. On the outbreak of the war with Spain, he was transferred to the Shoreham of twenty guns, and was sent to cruise off Jamaica. Unfortunately, when Admiral Vernon determined, in November, 1740, on attacking Porto Bello (a place which Columbus had discovered and named in 1562, and which had once before succumbed to a British Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, in 1596), the Shoreham was found to be unfit for action; but Boscawen would not be deprived of this chance of seeing some active service, so he sailed as a volunteer, and so far distinguished himself at the easy capture of the place—for the garrison was on a peace footing, and the British lost only seven men—that he was entrusted with the duty of superintending the demolition of the fortifications.
Rejoining the Shoreham, which had now been thoroughly overhauled, we next hear of him, in March, 1740-41, at the siege of Carthagena, the chief port in New Granada, again under Admiral Vernon, who is described as a man of fair abilities, but of harsh overbearing temper;—one of those naval heroes of whom Byron sourly says in his 'Don Juan:'
'They filled their sign-posts then like Wellesley now.'
Here again he gathered laurels, and attracted considerable notice by what Campbell describes as his 'quick-sighted judgment and intrepid valour,' commanding a detachment of 300 sailors and 200 soldiers, and storming a fascine battery on Boca Chica, which had much galled General Wentworth, and held our forces in check.
Campbell thus describes Boscawen's part in the affair, which reminds us of the recent gallant rush on Tel-el-Kebir:[91]
'Pushing forward with a strength equal to their animation, they soon climbed the entrenchments, and entering the embrasures in the face of a continued fire, and on the very muzzles of the guns, they drove the enemy from the works with considerable slaughter; and after spiking the cannon and burning the platforms, together with the gun-carriages, guard-house, and magazine, Boscawen led off his detachment in order, and returned to the fleet with six wounded prisoners. The Spaniards, fully sensible of the support which this battery had afforded them, were indefatigable in their endeavours to repair it; and having in a few days so far succeeded as to be able to bring six guns to bear upon the English fleet, Boscawen was again ordered to reduce it, but in a manner which exposed him less to personal danger than in the service in which it was before deemed expedient to employ him. He was directed to proceed with his own ship, the Shoreham, together with the Princess Amelia and the Lichfield, as close inshore as the depth of the water would admit them (a dangerous enterprise in consequence of the difficulties of the navigation here), to anchor abreast of the battery, and to bring the ships' broadsides to bear upon it; whilst, on the other hand, a detachment of seamen, under the command of Captains Watson, Cotes, and Dennis, were at the same time to storm it. These measures, taken with so much skill and prudence, would in all probability have ensured the success of the attack; but the Spaniards, intimidated by the formidable appearance of the assailants, abandoned the battery without firing a shot.'
But the place was too strongly fortified; and the siege of Carthagena was soon after raised (a circumstance which, by the way, tended to hasten the fall of Walpole). Yet before Boscawen left he was again employed, as at Porto Bello, to rase the different forts which the English had taken on the neighbouring coast; and, whilst engaged on this service, was appointed to the Prince Frederick, of 70 guns, on the death of Lord Aubrey Beauclerk, who gallantly fell at Boca Chica.
Clinton observes that the siege lasted from January to 24th April, 1741; and that as the surf prevented a bombardment from the sea, it was determined to make a lodging on Boca Chica, in order to reduce the fort there. The long-standing jealousy between the navy and the army was, he thinks, the cause of the failure of the siege. However that may be, three thousand men were lost by assaults and sickness; and the fleet returned to Jamaica.
On the 14th May, 1742, Boscawen reached home, or rather St. Helen's, Isle of Wight, bringing advices of Admiral Vernon's having sailed on a fresh expedition, which unfortunately proved abortive. But this year was memorable in his life for other than warlike exploits; for its close witnessed his marriage with the graceful, sprightly, and accomplished Frances Evelyn Glanville, of St. Clere, Kent; a lady sufficiently distinguished in her day to claim, as a Cornishman's wife, the notice which I have ventured to append to this sketch of the Admiral, her husband,—whose epitaph, glowing with eloquence, she was destined to write.
In the year that he married he was elected Member for Truro. And here it may be observed that the gallant naval officer was always extremely popular in his native county. One account states that he was 'positively adored' by the people, and that they insisted on sending him to Parliament as their representative, notwithstanding his reluctance to serve, on account of one member of his family being already there—namely, his father—in the House of Peers. Again, in 1747 he was elected for both Saltash (another old Cornish borough) and Truro; but he decided on maintaining his political connexion with the latter.
The next few months of his life would seem to have passed without any events of public interest occurring; but, early in 1744, war, arising out of the assistance given by the French to the Young Pretender's ill-starred descent upon England, broke out with France; and Boscawen was made Captain of the Dreadnought, of 60 guns. With her he very soon after captured the Medea, a French frigate of 26 guns and 240 men, commanded by a M. Hocquart—whom in the course of our history we shall twice meet again as Boscawen's prisoner. This was the first prize taken in the war. For some time he continued doing what may be called home duty—cruising in the Channel, sitting on courts-martial, and acting as Commodore on board the Royal Sovereign, at the Nore. Whilst acting in the latter capacity it fell within his province to send out several of the newly-pressed men as they were brought to him in company with some experienced seamen, in frigates and small vessels, to guard the mouths of many of the minor creeks and rivers along the shores of Kent and Sussex.
In January, 1746, he was appointed to the Namur, formerly of 90 guns, but afterwards reduced to a third-rate; and in November of that year, being in command of a small squadron at the mouth of the Channel, he captured two prizes—one a large privateer from St. Malo, the other a despatch-boat from M. De Jonquiere (the commander of the French fleet on the American station), with advices of the death of the Duc D'Anville, and of the consequent failure of the expedition under that officer's command.
We now approach the time when he was to receive his first wound of consequence, and to perform one of the most gallant and self-denying exploits of his brave career—a deed so daring and so brilliantly successful as to excite the jealousy of Anson, his superior officer, and thus to lay the foundation of an ill-feeling between those two gallant seamen which, it is to be feared, can be traced throughout their lives.
In 1747, whilst commanding a line-of-battle ship in the fleet intended for America, under Admirals Anson and Vernon, he was present at the gallant action of the 3rd May, off Cape Finisterre. 'Here,' says Campbell, 'Boscawen signalized himself equally by his heroism and his judgment. The French fleet, having got the weather-gage, kept up a constant and well-directed fire on the English ships as they turned to windward to form the line abreast of the enemy. But Boscawen, perceiving that our ships would thereby be disabled before their guns could be brought to bear upon the French line, and his ship being a very superior sailer to any of the rest, and being, besides, the leading ship of the van, pressed forward with a crowd of sail, received himself the greatest part of the enemy's fire, and singly maintained the conflict until the remainder of the fleet came up to his support; by which daring but judicious manœuvre he principally contributed to the success with which on that day the British arms were crowned.[92] On this occasion he was severely wounded in the shoulder by a musket-ball. His country, however, was not long deprived of his services by this misfortune, from the effects of which he recovered in a few weeks.' At Finisterre all the French ships, ten in number, were taken, including the Diamant, of 56 tons, commanded by M. Hocquart, who thus became, for the second time, Boscawen's prisoner.
Shortly after being made Rear-Admiral of the Blue, he was invested with a command which shows the remarkable estimation in which he was held by the Government, receiving, as he did, a commission from the King as Admiral and Commandant of a squadron of six ships of the line and five frigates, with 2,000 soldiers on board, ordered for the East Indies; and also as General and Commander-in-Chief of the land forces employed in the expedition—'the only instance, except that of the Earl of Peterborough, of any officer having received such a command since the reign of Charles II.' Yet, such were his tact and personal character, that no ill-feeling arose on the part of the troops thus placed under his command—in fact, as an officer, quoted by Campbell, quaintly says, 'the Admiral, by his genteel behaviour, gained the love of the land officers, and never was greater harmony among all degrees of men than in this expedition;' notwithstanding which it failed in effecting the main objects which it had in view, viz. the capture of Pondicherry, and the attack on Port Louis, Mauritius, en route thither. He sailed from St. Helen's on the 4th November, 1747; but owing to bad weather and contrary winds, did not reach the Cape of Good Hope till the 29th March, 1748; and here he remained a short time to refresh his jaded crews.
The difficulties of the landing at Port Louis, and the strength of the batteries by which it was defended, were such as to triumph over even the genius and courage of Boscawen; and after vain though most strenuous search for a practicable landing-place, the Admiral called a council of war, at which it was determined that a small boat-party should land during the night with a view to capturing (if possible) at least one man of the enemy, from whom they might obtain information as to the numbers and situation of the French forces. This ingenious attempt, however, failed; and at a second council of war it was agreed that the attack on Port Louis, even if it succeeded (which was doubtful), would necessitate the leaving behind so large a force to occupy the place, that it would imperil the chances of capturing Pondicherry, the principal object of the expedition; and to this it may be added that Boscawen had lost many of his men from their eating a poisonous fish called the vieille, at the island of Roderique.
They accordingly sailed at once for Fort St. David, near Pondicherry, which place they reached on the 29th July; and here Boscawen took over the command, from Admiral Griffin, of what had now become the largest 'marine force belonging to any one European nation that had ever been seen in the Indian seas.' Boscawen marched forward with his army on the 8th of August, and opened the trenches on the 27th. But his men rapidly grew sick in that unwholesome climate; his chief engineer was killed; the monsoons were shortly expected. It was found that the garrison far outnumbered the besiegers, and, 'everything having been done which gallantry and perseverance could perform,' writes Walpole, on the 6th October it was finally determined to raise the siege.[93] And a gale, on 14th April, 1749, arose, which seems to have been the main cause of the unsuccessful termination of the whole expedition—the Admiral's flag-ship, the Namur, foundered; the Pembroke and the Apollo (hospital ship) were also lost, together with a very large proportion of their crews. Providentially, our Admiral and General was on shore at the time.
Not long afterwards peace was declared at Aix-la-Chapelle, and Boscawen had, at least, the gratification of having Madras delivered up to him.
In April, 1750, he returned to England in the Exeter, to find that during his absence he had been appointed Rear-Admiral of the White; and additional honours soon after fell to his lot. In 1751 he was made a Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty, and at the Board's meetings found many opportunities of falling foul of his old foe, Anson, whom he always suspected, perhaps without sufficient cause, of having sent him on what the former knew from the beginning would be the fruitless expedition to Pondicherry. This suspicion, however, would seem to be confirmed by a letter from Walpole to Mann, dated 31st January, 1750, in which the writer says that Boscawen was unfortunate during the whole expedition (East Indies), and that Anson sent him upon it 'on purpose to ruin him ... upon slight intelligence, and upon improbable views.' A jealousy, as we have seen, had previously arisen between the two Admirals over the Cape Finisterre affair, when Boscawen complained loudly of Anson's behaviour. In July, 1751, he was made an Elder Brother of the Trinity House; and in May, 1754, he was, for the third time, chosen to represent in the House of Commons his old borough of Truro, between which and himself there had existed so long and friendly a connexion;—and now, 'for want of something better to do,' as one of his biographers insinuates, he became a zealous politician.
In 1755 he was made Vice-Admiral of the Blue; and, the French beginning to display ambitious projects in America, Boscawen was despatched from Spithead on 19th April, with a strong fleet, to frustrate their designs. The French Admiral was M. Bois de la Motte, and he had a large and powerful armament of twenty-five ships of the line, and other vessels, together with a train of artillery, etc., etc. Boscawen's force consisted of eleven sail and a frigate, together with two regiments of infantry. He was, however, afterwards reinforced by six ships of the line and another frigate under the command of Rear-Admiral Holbourne. The English ships waited for the Frenchmen off Cape Ray, Newfoundland; but in a fog the French Admiral eluded his antagonists, and contrived to get his ships (with two exceptions) into harbour. These two ships Boscawen captured on the 10th June, after a gallant engagement of five hours. They contained £80,000 in specie, a large number of French officers, and altogether 1,500 prisoners. The two French ships were the Alcide and Lys (each of 64 guns), which were taken by the Defiance and the Dunkirk. Again Boscawen took the first French ships during the war; and again found his old acquaintance, M. Hocquart, on board one of them, who thus for the third time became the British Admiral's prisoner of war. The story of the action is thus graphically told by Lord Mahon:
'Only the day before King George III. embarked at Harwich (for his usual summer residence at his beloved Hanover, notwithstanding the strong feeling which existed against his leaving the kingdom at so critical a time) Admiral Boscawen, with eleven ships of the line and two regiments on board, set sail from Portsmouth. His orders were to follow a large French armament which had recently been equipped at Brest, and to attack it if designed for the Bay of St. Lawrence. A thick fog off Newfoundland concealed the rival fleets from each other; but two English ships, the first commanded by Captain (afterwards Lord) Howe, came within speech of two French ships. The foreign commandant inquired if it was war or peace. Howe replied that he must wait for his Admiral's signal, but that he advised the Frenchman to prepare for war. Ere long appeared Boscawen's signal for engaging; Howe attacked, and after an engagement, in which he displayed equal skill and intrepidity, succeeded in taking the two French ships—the Alcide and the Lys. The rest of the French armament—eight or nine ships of the line—got safe into the harbour of Louisbourg; and their safety caused as great disappointment in England as the capture of their consorts irritation in France. The French Ambassador in London, M. de Mirepoix, was recalled at these tidings, yet still there was not on either side a formal declaration of war.'
On the 15th November, Boscawen returned to England with his prizes and his prisoners, and anchored at Spithead.
In the following year, 1756, he commanded the squadron in the Bay of Quiberon, stationed there for the purpose of watching the French fleet; but, so far as I am aware, was engaged in no important active service on that occasion. His leisure, however, gave him an opportunity of showing the interest he took in the welfare of his men, as well as his resource in alleviating the tedium of their unoccupied time, by setting them to work to cultivate a barren island, and converting it into a fruitful garden, whose produce was an extremely welcome adjunct to the invariable salt junk and biscuit of those days. Promotions, however, came, and he was made, at short intervals, successively Vice-Admiral of the White and of the Red.
But the year 1758 proved more eventful for our hero; and is perhaps the most memorable in his annals, for it witnessed his gallant attack and capture of Louisbourg—'once mistress of the seas,' and 'the key to French America,' but now consisting of a few fishermen's huts and some moss-covered ruins. This event directly led to the conquest of Canada.
On the 28th of May, being now full Admiral, he sailed from his old starting-point, St. Helen's. And here it may be well, in order to understand the importance of the service on which Boscawen was now engaged, to take a rapid glance at the general position of affairs.
In 1758 there was war in each of the four quarters of the globe. England was triumphing over the Gallic power in India, and over its settlements on the western shores of Africa. And Pitt, having decided on dealing a blow at the French in North America, planned an expedition for the conquest of Cape Breton and St. John's. Disregarding the old principles of selecting for the command officers whose chief recommendation was their family connexions or their political influence, he selected General (afterwards Lord) Amherst to command the army, and Boscawen to be the head of the fleet. The armament (says Lord Mahon) assembled at Halifax, and consisted of 150 sail and 12,000 soldiers. On 2nd June it came to anchor within seven miles of Louisbourg, the capital of Cape Breton. The land-defences of this place had been carefully strengthened by the French, in expectation of the attack; five ships of the line were drawn up in the harbour, and the garrison, soldiers and marines together, exceeded 6,000 men. It was with much difficulty, and after stout resistance, that the English effected their landing. Wolfe (who had attracted Pitt's notice by his behaviour before Rochefort) was the first to spring from the boats into the raging surf, and cheer on his soldiers to the charge. During the whole siege his ardour and activity were equally conspicuous.[94] The conduct of General Amherst also deserves high praise; and the most cordial co-operation—another proof how judiciously the chiefs had been chosen—prevailed between himself and Admiral Boscawen. For the besieged, they kept up their fire with much spirit, and attempted several sallies; but before the close of July, many of their cannon being dismounted, and divers practicable breaches made in the walls, they were compelled to capitulate. The garrison became prisoners of war, and were transported to England. Besides the ships captured in the harbour, a large amount of stores and ammunition was found in the place. Wolfe was on this occasion second in command to Amherst; and Clinton, too, notes that 'for almost the first time in a mixed expedition there was perfect accord between all ranks of both services: Boscawen, Amherst, and Wolfe concerted all measures without jealousy, and an eye-witness records that "the soldiers worked like horses, making the roads, and drawing up the cannon, while the sailors went and lent a hand to build up the batteries."' The whole island of Cape Breton submitted, on the fall of its capital; and the island of St. John's followed the fate of Cape Breton, being occupied by Colonel Lord Rollo with a detachment of troops. Eleven pairs of French colours taken during the siege were, by his Majesty's command, carried in procession, with kettle-drums and trumpets sounding, from Kensington Palace to St. Paul's Cathedral, and deposited there amidst a salute of cannon and other public demonstrations of triumph. They were received by the Dean and Chapter, and put up near the west door of the Cathedral, whilst the guns of the Tower and St. James's Park thundered out their victorious salutes. Sir Henry Ellis, in his edition (1818) of Dugdale's 'St. Paul's,' says that, of the flags and banners hung inside the nave and round the dome, the oldest were those taken at Louisbourg. Nor were the rejoicings confined to London; a great number of other towns and corporations lighted bonfires in the streets, and sent addresses of congratulation to the King; and a form of prayer and thanksgiving for the victory was read in all the churches in England.
Among the many brilliant exploits of the British navy during the year 1758—during which period we captured or destroyed 16 French men-of-war, 49 privateers, and 104 merchant ships, besides 176 neutral ships seized as laden with French colonial produce or military stores—Boscawen's share was as we have seen, conspicuous.
It was not until the 1st of November that our Admiral returned, with four of his ships, to St. Helen's, having, on the way home, fallen in with six French ships off the Scilly Islands, of which, however, he was unable to give his usual good account, as they sailed much faster than his. He nevertheless managed to disable one of them, the Belliqueux, and drove her up the Bristol Channel, where she was secured by the Antelope.
The following 6th of December was a proud day for the victorious naval hero; for, in his place in Parliament, he received the thanks of the House of Commons. In the course of Speaker Onslow's address conveying the thanks of the House, he declared himself 'unable to enumerate and set forth the great and extensive advantages accruing to this nation from the conquest of Louisbourg, with the islands of Cape Breton and St. John,' and described the vote of thanks as 'a national honour from a free people, ever cautiously conferred, in order to be the more esteemed, and the greater reward; a reward which ought to be reserved for the most signal services to the State, as well as for the most approved merit in it.' Boscawen's reply was characteristically short, modest, and sailor-like. He said, from his place, 'Mr. Speaker, I am happy in having been able to do my duty; but have not words to express my sense of the distinguished reward that has been conferred upon me by this House; nor can I enough thank you, sir, for the polite and elegant manner in which you have been pleased to convey to me the Resolution.'
The Gentleman's Magazine for August, 1758, gives a long and (to military men at least) an interesting journal of this important siege, of which the following is a résumé[95]:
Owing to the violence of the surf, great difficulties appear to have existed in landing the troops and matériel for the operations; and, on the 23rd June, Boscawen had to inform his colleague that no less than 100 boats had, up to that time, been lost in the various attempts which had been made. Nor was this the only way in which the naval commander endeavoured to contribute to the success of the undertaking, for on the 26th June, with 200 marines, the Admiral took the French post of Kennington Cove, which proved, as General Amherst said, 'a great ease to the army.' To add to the difficulties of the undertaking small-pox broke out, and proved fatal in a great many cases—2,000 men dying from this and other causes during the expedition; whilst dense fogs and stormy weather also frequently hindered the progress of their operations; yet, in spite of a host of similar discouraging circumstances, the work was pushed on with truly British vigour and tenacity. On the 25th of July, Boscawen sent in boats with 600 men into the harbour, and took two French ships—the Prudent, of 74 guns, and the Bienfaisant, of 64 guns—whose fire had terribly galled the besiegers. The former vessel was burnt, as she was aground; but the Bienfaisant was captured and towed into the north-east harbour. Boscawen, in his letter to Pitt of 28th July, 1758, refers to this as 'a particular gallant action' on the part of his captains. A similar operation was to have been attempted on the following day, but the French had by this time had enough of it; an offer of capitulation was made by the Governor, and articles were agreed upon, including the surrender of the garrison—over 3,000 men—as prisoners of war, together with sailors and naval officers to the number of 2,606. A vast number of mortars and cannon, etc., were also taken. Thus the strong fortress of Louisbourg fell, the islands of Cape Breton and St. John thereupon surrendered, and a deadly blow was inflicted on the French arms.[96] The insurance on vessels to America at once fell from 25 or 30 to 12 per cent., and on the 26th August the Lord Mayor of London, with many of the principal citizens, waited on the King to congratulate him upon the victory. In the course of their address occurs the following passage, which I quote as illustrative of the importance which the City attached to the event, and of the strong anti-Gallic feeling which prevailed at that time:
'May these valuable acquisitions, so gloriously obtained, ever continue a part of the British Empire, as an effectual check to the perfidy and ambition of a nation whose repeated insults and usurpations obliged your Majesty to enter into this just and necessary war. And may these instances of the wisdom of your Majesty's councils, of the conduct and resolution of your commanders, and of the intrepidity of your fleets and armies, convince the world of the innate strength and resources of your kingdoms, and dispose your Majesty's enemies to yield to a safe and honourable peace.'
Exeter, Cambridge, and other important places followed suit.
Boscawen had surely now received
'Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man;'
but his career was not to close without his having at least one more opportunity of distinguishing himself. In the following year, on the 14th April, 1759, he was again afloat; on this occasion appointed to the command in the Mediterranean, with a view to overmastering the French fleet. Having vainly endeavoured to entice the enemy out of their harbour at Toulon, the British Admiral withdrew to Gibraltar to refit; and whilst here, having ascertained that the French ships under M. De la Clue had somehow contrived to pass the Straits without his being able to prevent them, he came to the conclusion that their object was to effect a junction with the Brest fleet—a consummation which of course Boscawen was bound to prevent. At once he gave the order for pursuit, and slipping his war-hounds from the leash, he came up with the enemy in Lagos Bay, some 150 sea miles north-west of Gibraltar Straits. He had pursued the Frenchmen all night, and came up with them at 2 p.m. on the following day, when, after a furious engagement which lasted some hours, he captured or destroyed nearly half the enemy's ships, and thus 'effectually defeated the magnificent scheme of invading England, with which the French Minister had for some time amused the military ardour and romantic spirit of his countrymen.' It is worth while to give Boscawen's account to the Admiralty of the memorable action in his own words:
'I acquainted you in my last of my return to Gibraltar to refit. As soon as the ships were near ready, I ordered the Lyme and Gibraltar, the only frigates ready, the first to cruise off Malaga, the last from Estepona to Ceuta Point, to look out, and give me timely notice of the enemy's approach.
'On the 17th, at eight in the evening, the Gibraltar made the signal of their appearance, fourteen sail, on the Barbary shore, to the eastward of Ceuta. I got under sail as fast as possible, and was out of the bay before ten, with fourteen sail of the line, the Shannon frigate, and Ætna fireship. At daylight I saw the Gibraltar, and soon after seven large ships lying to; but on our not answering their signals, they made sail from us. We had a fresh gale that brought us up with them fast till about noon, when it fell little wind. About half an hour past two, some of the headmost ships began to engage, but I could not get up to the Ocean till near four. In about half an hour the Namur's mizzen-mast and both topsail-yards were shot away. The enemy then made all the sail they could. I shifted my flag to the Newark, and soon after the Centaur, of 74 guns, struck.[97]
'I pursued all night, and in the morning of the 19th saw only four sail standing in for the land, two of the best sailers having altered their course in the night; we were not above three miles from them, and not above five leagues from the shore, with very little wind. About nine the Ocean ran among the breakers, and the three others anchored. I sent the Intrepid and the America to destroy the Ocean. Captain Pratten having anchored, could not get in; but Captain Kirke performed that service alone. On his first firing at the Ocean she struck, and Captain Kirke sent his officers on board. M. De la Clue, having one leg broke and the other wounded, had been landed about half an hour; but they found the captain, M. le Compte de Carnes, and several officers and men, on board. Captain Kirke, after taking them out, finding it impossible to bring the ship off, set her on fire. Captain Bently, of the Warspight, was ordered against the Temeraire, of 74 guns, and brought her off with little damage, the officers and men all on board. At the same time, Vice-Admiral Broderick, with his division, burnt the Redoubtable, her officers and men having quitted her, being bulged; they brought the Modeste, of 64 guns, off, very little damaged.
'I have the pleasure to acquaint their lordships, that most of his Majesty's ships under my command sailed better than those of the enemy.
'Enclosed I send you a list of the French squadron, found on board the Modeste.[98]
'Herewith you will also receive the number of the killed and wounded on board his Majesty's ships (56 killed and 196 wounded), referring their lordships for further particulars to Captain Buckle.'
Well might even the gentle poet Cowper say of so brilliant and important an exploit as this was: 'When poor Bob White brought in the news of Boscawen's success off the Coast of Portugal, how did I leap for joy!'
As part of the results of his victory Boscawen took three large ships and burnt two; and on the 15th of September reached Spithead with his prizes and 2,000 prisoners. Unfortunately the victory involved us in a protracted negotiation with the Portuguese, who complained, not without reason, that the neutrality of their coasts had been violated. It was on this occasion that Pitt, in giving, in his letter to Mr. Hay, then British Minister at Lisbon, his directions for the conduct of the negotiations, loftily writes on the 12th September, 1759: 'You will be particularly attentive not to employ any favourable circumstances to justify what the Law of Nations condemns!' Yet the great Minister was careful to add in his P.S. that 'any personal mark on a great Admiral who has done so essential a service to his country, or on anyone under his command, is totally inadmissible; as well as the idea of restoring the ships of war taken.' The delicate political considerations involved in this transaction may perhaps account for Boscawen's not again receiving the thanks of the House; but that the enormous value of the service which he had rendered was not unperceived, may be seen from the fact that the City of Edinburgh embraced this opportunity of presenting the Admiral with its 'freedom.' After a while, however, more substantial rewards followed. He was made a Privy Councillor; and, on 8th December, 1760, a General of Marines, with a salary of £3,000 a year. It may be a matter of surprise with some that no title was conferred upon Boscawen; but, as a public writer has recently observed: 'Naval services have been by no means so frequently rewarded by peerages as military services, especially of late years; as may be gathered from the fact that while the Queen has already created thirteen military peers, she has created only two naval peers—namely, the late Sir Edmund Lyons, made Baron Lyons after the Crimean War in 1856, and Lord Alcester. Before that the latest naval peerage was the Barony of De Saumerez conferred on Sir James Saumerez in 1831 by William IV.; and before that, again, the Viscounty of Exmouth, conferred on the Cornish Admiral Sir Edward Pellew in 1816 by the Prince Regent. And, even from the age of the great French War of the end of last and the beginning of the current century, the titles remaining in the peerage are far from numerous: Nelson, Bridport, Camperdown, Gardner, Graves, Hood, Howe, Rodney, and St. Vincent, nearly or quite exhausting the list.' In the present instance there was probably the further consideration that our Admiral's brother was already a Viscount, whilst his own son was heir apparent to that title.
We now come to Boscawen's last service—once more in the Bay of Quiberon—where he was posted with a view to his following up Conflans after his defeat by Hawke. In this command he was relieved on the 26th August; and little remains to be told except the final record that, on the 10th January, 1761, this thoroughbred seaman and gentleman died of a bilious fever, when only fifty years of age, at his seat, Hatchlands Park, near Guildford, Surrey. But his body was laid amongst those of his ancestors in the remote and quiet little church of St. Michael Penkivel—'grata quies patriæ'—where no more warlike cannonade was destined to disturb his repose than the sunset and sunrise gun from Pendennis or St. Mawes Castles, or from the guard-ship stationed in the adjacent harbour of Falmouth.[99]
His monument, of white marble, is an imposing piece of statuary, the most prominent part of which is a bust designed by Adam, and executed by Rysbrack, which well displays the bluff, portly, and determined features of one of England's bravest and ablest sons. But, to my mind, the best and loveliest part of that trophied memorial is the following inscription from the pen of the well-beloved partner of all his joys and sorrows:
'Satis Gloriæ sed haud satis Reipublicæ:
'Here lies the Right Honourable Edward Boscawen, Admiral of the Blue, General of Marines, Lord of the Admiralty and one of his Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council. His birth tho' noble, his titles tho' illustrious, were but incidental additions to his greatness.
'History, in more expressive and more indelible characters, will inform latest posterity with what ardent zeal, with what successful valour, he served his country, and taught her enemies to dread her naval power.
'In command he was equal to every emergency—superior to ev'ry difficulty. In his high departments masterly and upright. His example form'd while his patronage rewarded merit.
'With the highest exertions of Military greatness he united the gentlest offices of humanity.
'His concern for the interest and unwearied attention to the health of all under his command softened the necessary exactions of duty and the rigors of discipline by the care of a guardian and the tenderness of a father.
'Thus belov'd and rever'd, amiable in private life as illustrious in public, this gallant and profitable servant of his country, when he was beginning to reap the harvest of his toils and dangers, in the full meridian of years and glory, after having been providentially preserved from every peril incident to his profession, died of a fever on the 10th of Jany. in the year 1761, the 50th of his age, at Hatchlands Park in Surrey, a seat he had just finished at the expense of the enemies of his country, and (amidst the groans and tears of his beloved Cornishmen) was here deposited.
'His once happy wife inscribes this marble—an unequal testimony of his worth, and of her affection.'
Here perhaps it may conveniently be added that his name is still honourably remembered in the Navy, for the Boscawen, of 101 guns, was one of the Baltic fleet in 1854; and there is a ship of that name, now stationed at Weymouth, used as a naval training-ship for boys.
The career of Admiral Boscawen depicts his character. It was that of a brave, blunt, determined sailor of the old school. He could not look at a French ship without desiring to fight her; and his determination, according to his enemies, amounted to obstinacy. Walpole tells us how the Admiral in 1757 is said to have been recalled from his then station to serve under Hawke, which he declined to do, 'and his Boscawenhood is now much more Boscawened; that is surly in the deepest shade;' and the same writer says, in another place, that he was 'the most obstinate man of an obstinate family.' Yet even Walpole is compelled to pay this somewhat unwilling tribute to the Admiral's worth during the perilous time when he served his country so well: 'Never did the bravery of the English and the want of spirit in the French appear in greater opposition; the former making their attacks on spots which the French deemed impregnable, threw them into utter dismay; and dictated a very quick and unjustifiable submission—Boscawen's rough courage was fully known before.' And a recent critic, who has already been quoted more than once (himself a naval officer), thus sums up our hero's character: 'He was virtuous like Anson and Hawke, and as brave and eager for employment and distinction as Nelson himself.'
But the prize which the Cornish hero must have valued most must have been the eulogium which Chatham, when Prime Minister, addressed to him—words with which I may not inaptly close this imperfect sketch of his life and actions:
'When I apply to other officers respecting any expedition I may chance to project, they always raise difficulties; you always find expedients.'
MRS. BOSCAWEN.
It is not too much to say of the Admiral's wife that she was worthy of him, and that she was duly proud of his name and reputation. We have seen how she thought her daughter Elizabeth was no unfit match for a duke, remarking that she was 'Admiral Boscawen's daughter;' and she was dearly fond of the sea, 'delighting in it (as she used to say) beyond all sights and all objects whatever,' until the mournful day came when he for whose sake she had loved it so dearly had ended his connexion with it for ever; and then she spoke of it as that sea whose memories 'had cost her so many tears.' She was the only daughter of William Evelyn Glanville, Esq., of St. Clere near Ightham, Kent, and was of the family of the celebrated John Evelyn, whom she was fond of calling her 'good, old uncle;' and she took immense interest accordingly in the production of Dr. Hunter's new edition of the 'Sylva.'[100]
When twenty-four years of age she was married, in December, 1742, to Admiral Boscawen, seven years her senior, and they seem to have been a well-suited, happy couple. Her character is perhaps best seen in the interesting gossiping letters which she and Mrs. Delany (a Grenville of Stow) interchanged. She was also a correspondent of Hannah More and Mrs. Chapone.
Hannah More, in her 'Sensibility,' writes thus of her:
'Accept, Boscawen! these unpolish'd lays,
Nor blame too much the verse you cannot praise.
For you far other bards have wak'd the string;
Far other bards for you were wont to sing.
* * * * *
You heard the lyres of Lyttelton and Young;
And this a Grace, and that a Seraph strung.'
And in another place she adds:
'On you, Boscawen, when you fondly melt
In raptures none but mothers ever felt,
And view, enamour'd, in your beauteous race,
All Leveson's sweetness, and all Beaufort's grace!
Yet think what dangers each lov'd child may share,
The youth if valiant, and the maid if fair?'
The reason for dedicating this poem of 'Sensibility' to Mrs. Boscawen is glanced at in the following couplet:
''Tis this, whose charms the soul resistless seize,
And gives Boscawen half her pow'r to please.'
On the death of her husband, Dr. Young thus addressed her, in a postscript to his poem 'Resignation',
'Why mourn the dead? You wrong the grave,
From storms that safe resort;
We still are tossing out at sea—
Our Admiral's in port.'
As another illustration of her intimacy with literary people, and of her fondness for their pursuits, it may be mentioned that Mrs. Boscawen was one of the society of 'eminent friends, both ladies and gentlemen,' who used to meet at Mrs. Montagu's, where she made herself welcome, says Dr. Doran, by 'the strength of her understanding, the poignancy of her humour, and the brilliancy of her wit.' A Mr. Stillingfleet, one of the coterie, was rather slovenly in his costume, and, amongst other delinquencies, wore grey stockings, which caused Admiral Boscawen humorously to affix to the whole party a name which has now become a household word—'The Blue Stockings.'
After they had been dining together on the 29th April, 1778, at Allan Ramsay's—when Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds had been of the party—Boswell wrote of Mrs. Boscawen, 'If it be not presumptuous in me to praise her, let me say that her manners were the most agreeable, and her conversation the best of any lady of our party with whom I had the happiness of being acquainted.' Tenderhearted and sprightly she undoubtedly was; and, as an instance of her vivacity, I may perhaps be excused for quoting a passage in one of her letters to Mrs. Delany which Lady Llanover has given in those well-known 'Memoirs' of her ancestress, to which I have already more than once referred. 'The first time,' writes Mrs. Boscawen, 'I experienced the pains of child-bearing, I concluded that no woman had ever endured the like upon the like occasion, and that I could not possibly recover it; whereas I danced a minuet about my room in ten days, to insult my nurse-keeper and set her a scolding for my diversion!'
But she was something more than a vivacious letter-writer and a dilettante, for she dabbled too in political affairs, especially in the Cornish elections, giving her interest to 'the old members' rather than to Sir William Lemon in 1774. She took, of course, great interest in the warlike views of the day; and on returning to her inn one evening whilst she was travelling through the country, on hearing of the retaking of Long Island, 'made a most agreeable supper and drank health to the noble brothers'—the two Howes. When her son-in-law, Mr. Leveson, had the command of the Valiant, man-of-war, conferred upon him in November, 1776, she set to work for him 'with great alacrity,' as she says, to raise a crew of fishermen in Cornwall. In fact, throughout her life her correspondence shows that she took the keenest possible interest in the doings of our army and navy. As an illustration of the warlike spirit which at this time pervaded even the bosoms of the gentler sex, Walpole thus writes in May, 1778: 'The Parliament is only to have short adjournments; and our senators, instead of retiring to horse-races (their plough), are all turned soldiers, and disciplining militia. Camps everywhere, and the ladies in the uniforms of their husbands.' 'It is said,' writes Mrs. Boscawen to Mrs. Delany, 'that the Duchess of Devonshire marched through Islington at the head of the Derbyshire Militia, dressed in the uniform of that regiment!'
Her residence when in London seems to have been generally in Audley Street; but she also had a pretty place at Enfield, and a small house at Colney Hatch which she used to call her 'nut-shell.'
When about eighty years of age she was living at Rosedale, a place near the entrance to Richmond from Kew, which was formerly occupied by the poet Thomson, whose table, cane, and chair were long preserved in the house; and whilst residing here a little poetical correspondence took place which may be worth recording, not only as an illustration of the courtly politeness of the time, and of the respect in which the good old lady was evidently held by her contemporaries, but also because Mrs. Boscawen's letter, written in a firm, almost manly hand, notwithstanding her advanced age, is still preserved in the British Museum, where it will be found in the Additional MSS. Pye, the Poet Laureate, had written a sonnet on Rosedale, which he communicated to the Rev. W. Butler, who sent it on to Mrs. Boscawen. The lines, by no means remarkable for vigour or originality, conclude thus:
'Still Fancy's Train your verdant Paths shall Trace,
Tho' clos'd her fav'rite Votary's dulcet lay;
Each wonted Haunt their footsteps still shall grace,
Still Genius thro' your green Retreats shall stray:
For, from the Scene Boscawen loves to grace,
Th' Attendant Muse shall ne'er be long away.'
The lady graciously acknowledged the compliment conveyed to her in the last two lines, and thus replied on the 26th June, 1797:
'Sir,
'I am sure I ought to return you my gratefull acknowledgmts for the obliging Present you have made me of some sweet Stanzas on this spot,—and my two Predecessors. Mr. Ross was certainly an Admirer of His, & paid that Respect to his Memory as to retain the little Parlour where Mr. Thomson liv'd, tho' he rebuilt every other Part of the House, extending it very much.
'The little Rustick Seat wch inspir'd your poetick Dialogue I found in such a State of decay that I was oblig'd to take it down, but, reserving all the Materials, I have replac'd it in a retir'd part of the Garden much enlarg'd and hung round with votive Tablets or Inscriptions in Honour of your admir'd Poet. His Bust is on the Pedament of the Seat, and in front is written
'"Here Thomson sung
The Seasons & their Change."
In the Alcove is a little old Table, wh I am assur'd belonged to Him, but Sir, if ever you shd have leisure to pay another Visit to your matchless Favourite, You will I hope find Him honour'd by
'Your most humble Servt,
'F. Boscawen.'
After surviving her husband for forty-four years, and never marrying again, the Honourable Frances Evelyn Boscawen closed her long and amiable life at her house in Audley Street, in March, 1805, at the venerable age of eighty-six; and was buried in the same vault with her husband at St. Michael Penkivel, where a monument designed by her son, George Evelyn, third Viscount Falmouth, and executed by Nollekens, was erected to her memory. An epitaph does her no more than justice.
