Chapter VII: Part 7

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 acknowledgm^{ts} 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 w^{ch} 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, w^h I am assur'd belonged to Him,
but Sir, if ever you sh^d have leisure to pay another Visit to your
_matchless Favourite_, You will I hope find Him honour'd by

'Your most humble Serv^t,

'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.

FOOTNOTES:

[80] It is somewhat singular that, notwithstanding the early and close connexion of the Boscawen family with this church, which is one of unusual interest--containing an oratory with a stone altar in the tower--though the Boscawen monuments here are numerous, yet there is no earlier example than one to Hugh, who married a lady of the Carminow family, and who died in 1559.

[81] Dr. Borlase mentions the high esteem in which the elder-tree was held by the Cornu-Britons, and states, with reference to the height to which it will reach under favourable circumstances, that Mr. Tonkin was informed that one of these trees, nearly fifty feet high, was blown down in Carhayes Park during a gale, about the year 1720.

[82] According to Hals, the Buryan Boscawens also transplanted their dwelling-places to Tregameer in St. Columb Major, and Trevallock in Creed, or St. Stephen's, and from thence, by marriage with the daughter and heir of Tregothnan, by Lawrence Boscawen, gentleman, attorney-at-law, temp. Henry VII., who died 1567, and lies buried in the north transept of St. Michael Penkivel Church, as is testified by a brass inscription on his gravestone, there lately extant, upon which, on a lead escutcheon, was engraved his paternal coat armour. He it was who built the towers of old Tregothnan House.

[83] He must have been a wealthy man, for Davies Gilbert says that on Hugh Boscawen's daughter Bridget's marriage with Hugh Fortescue he gave her £100,000.

[84] Sub. _Basset_.

[85] According to Lysons, the Deanery of the royal chapel of St. Burian was a dignity held immediately under the Crown, and in a Cartulary, 20th Edw. I., the incumbent is called Dean of the King's Free Chapel of St. Burian. He used to exercise an independent jurisdiction in all ecclesiastical matters within the parish and its immediate dependencies. The three prebends belonging to the church of St. Burian were Prebenda Parva, Prebenda de Respermel and Prebenda de Tirthney; though there may have possibly been a fourth, called Trethyn, a place in this parish where there was once a chapel. The first-named Prebend was in the gift of the Bishop; the two others were annexed to the Deanery of St. Burian. The 'Deanery' has, however, ceased to be; the three parishes are separated, and there are now simply Rectors of St. Buryan, St. Levan, and St. Sennen. (Cf. a paper on 'The Cornish Chantries' by Mr. H. Michell Whitley, in the Truro Diocesan Kalendar for 1882.)

[86] His medallion portrait on his monument at St. Michael Penkivel, was designed by his mother, and was sculptured by Nollekens.

[87] He is so depicted in his portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds in our National Portrait Gallery. There are numerous engraved portraits of him in the Print Room of the British Museum.

[88] Edgcumbe took home the Admiral's despatches in the _Shannon_.

[89] Yet the French _ships_ were in many respects better than the English; Professor Montagu Burrows (Captain R.N.) considers that an English 70-gun ship of the line was then not more than equal to a French 52. Many of the vessels were absolutely rotten, and the provisioning was grossly mismanaged. The officers too, it is said, were often found combining prudence with valour in somewhat un-English proportions.

[90] 'Hawke's grandfather (says Professor Burrows), a London merchant, had, like his ancestors for many generations, been settled at Treriven or Treraven (? Raven on the one-inch ordnance map, near the interesting old house of Trebasil), in the parish of St. Cleather, in Cornwall, about half-way between Launceston and Tintagel Head. Cornwall thus has the honour of having produced the two greatest admirals of the period, Hawke and Boscawen.' I did not myself venture to claim Hawke as a Cornishman, inasmuch as his father, a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, settled at Bocking in Norfolk.

[91] It is extremely gratifying to record that on that glorious morning scions of distinguished Cornish families were present--a Boscawen and a St. Aubyn--viz., the eldest son of the present Viscount Falmouth, and the second son of the present Sir John St. Aubyn, Bart.

[92] Walpole has pointed out, in his 'Memoirs of the last Ten Years of George II.,' how the reserved and proud Anson, 'who had been round the world, but never in it,' had carried off all the glory of the victory at Cape Finisterre, though Boscawen had done the service. In this view Professor Burrows concurs.

[93] Pondicherry (or Puducheri) as it is called by the natives, seems to have had a somewhat chequered history. It was purchased by the French, from the King of Benjapore, in 1672; it was taken from them by the Dutch in 1693, who considerably enlarged the town and fortifications. At the Treaty of Ryswick it was restored to France; in 1748 it was, as we have seen, unsuccessfully besieged by Boscawen; but in 1761, after a long, tedious blockade, it was captured by Coote. At the Peace of 1763 it was again restored to France; in 1778 it was once more surrendered to England, and finally it was delivered up to France in 1783, to become the capital of the French Settlements in India.

[94] Here, too, Cook, the circumnavigator, won his first laurels.

[95] A still more complete and detailed account, illustrated by a map, will be found in R. Brown's 'History of Cape Breton.'

[96] The year after Boscawen expelled the French from Cape Breton, Wolfe and Saunders drove them out of Canada.

[97] His tactics were to get to windward of his opponents, notwithstanding the advantage that gave their gunnery at first, whilst waiting to leeward for the attack; but the British crews were not given to flinching under fire, and when once Boscawen got within half musket-shot of the enemy he 'hammered away into his antagonists' hulls, and it was soon all over with them.'

[98] The French Admiral's ship, the _Ocean_, carried 80 guns; besides her, the fleet comprised five ships of 74 guns, three of 64 guns, two of 50 guns, one of 26 guns, and two of 24 guns. Admiral Ekins could never sufficiently admire Admiral Boscawen's action in shifting his flag to the _Newark, during_ the fight with De la Clue, observing that we have had but one example since Boscawen's time of this being done; viz., by Commodore Nelson on 14th February. Ekins gives a capital account of this engagement, by a midshipman who was present.

[99] There is a local tradition that the Admiral caused the tower of this church to be lowered, lest it should serve as a landmark to the enemy!

[100] Luttrell (v. 594) says that (Sept., 1705) John Evelyn, Esq., was married to Mrs. Boscawen, niece to the Lord Treasurer (? Godolphin).

_DAVY_,

THE MAN OF SCIENCE.

_DAVY_,

THE MAN OF SCIENCE.

'Igne constricto, vita secura.'

_Davy's Motto._

The pretty little homestead--or as it is called in Cornwall, the 'town-place'--of Varfel, (or Barfell as it was sometimes spelt) in Ludgvan, lies on a southern slope, about two and a half miles N.E. of Penzance, and is a somewhat less distance from St. Michael's Mount, a view of which, as well as of the famous Mount's Bay and of the Lizard district, it commands. Varfel seems to have belonged from an early period to the Davy family, some of whose monuments in Ludgvan Church are nearly 300 years old. Either here, on the 'paternal acres,' or in the town of Penzance, on 17th December, 1778, at 5 a.m., was born to 'Carver' Robert Davy (so called from his proficiency in his trade as a wood-carver and gilder) and his wife Grace Millett, their eldest son,[101] who was destined to emerge from this remote and obscure corner of England, and become President of the Royal Society--a man of science so distinguished that Brande, in his celebrated 'History of Chemistry,' spoke of Davy's death as nothing less than 'a serious national calamity.'

The district of Penwith, with its wild furze-clad granite moors, its rugged cliffs, and emerald bays, proved

'Fit nurse for a poetic child;'

and the imaginative faculties of the future illustrious chemist were not nursed in vain. Like Pope, he 'lisped in numbers,' reciting, when only five years old, his own rhymes at some Christmas gambols; and his poetic vein never left him, even in the laboratory or in the lecture-room, compelling the aristocratic idlers of London to love Science, because, as they were constrained to confess, under his magic guidance, Science was made beautiful, and was attired by the Graces. It was said by Coleridge that had Davy not devoted himself to Science, he would have shone with the highest lustre as a poet; and the following youthful lines, full of true local colour, certainly show, as indeed did his whole life, that he had drunk of 'the fount of Helicon:'

'TO THE LAND'S END.

'On the Sea
The sunbeams tremble; and the purple light
Illumes the dark Bolerium, seat of Storms!
Drear are his granite wilds, his schistine rocks
Encircled by the wave, where to the gale
The haggard cormorant shrieks; and, far beyond,
Where the great ocean mingles with the sky,
Behold the cloud-like islands[102] grey in mist.'

It was this poetic temperament, derived (as his brother, Dr. Davy, thinks) from their grandmother, which induced the gifted Dr. Henry, F.R.S., thus to refer to the subject of this memoir:

'Bold, ardent, enthusiastic, Davy soared to greatest heights; he
commanded a wide horizon, and his keen vision penetrated to its
utmost boundaries. His imagination, in the highest degree fertile and
inventive, took a rapid and extensive range in pursuit of conjectural
analogies, which he submitted to close and patient comparison with
known facts, and tried by an appeal to ingenious and conclusive
experiments. He was imbued with the spirit and was master in the
practice of inductive logic; and he has left us some of the noblest
examples of the efficacy of that great instrument of human reason in
the discovery of truth. He applied it, not only to connect classes
of facts of more limited extent and importance, but to develop great
and comprehensive laws, which embrace phenomena that are almost
universal to the natural world. In explaining those laws he cast upon
them the illumination of his own clear and vivid conceptions; he felt
an intense admiration of the beauty, order, and harmony which are
conspicuous in the perfect _Chemistry of Nature;_ and he expressed
those feelings with a force and eloquence which could issue only from
a mind of the highest powers and of the finest sensibilities.'

Davy's first school was at Penzance, his first schoolmaster a Mr. Bushell; his next, the Rev. Mr. Coryton, seems to have been one of the old rough sort, determined that his pupils should not lack correction, even if they did not profit by his instruction. He used to address the little boy in the following doggrel, whenever he thought he saw an opportunity of administering castigation:

'Now, Master Davy,
Now, sir! I have 'ee!
No one shall save 'ee--
Good Master Davy!'

But neither Mr. Coryton, nor Dr. Cardew, the excellent master of the Truro Grammar School, to which place Davy was for a short period removed, when fourteen years old, seems to have perceived any remarkable genius in the scholar--except that the latter discerned at least his taste and skill in poetry, and in his translations from the classics into English verse. One of the efforts of his muse was an epic poem, 'The Tydidiad,' written when he was twelve years old. In truth Davy, when a schoolboy, was generally composing either ballads or valentines (in Latin or English) for his school-fellows, in making fireworks, or in fishing or shooting, thus proving--what has been so often proved before--that 'the boy is father to the man.' His oratorical displays--sometimes addressed to a crowd of juveniles assembled in front of the Star Inn at Penzance, sometimes to a row of empty chairs in his own bedroom--and his turnip-lantern exhibitions (which afterwards developed into the wonderful mimic volcanoes with which he astonished and delighted his audience at the Royal Institution) were highly popular; the price of admission to the turnip-lantern shows is said to have been paid in an extremely low currency--pins. It would moreover appear from an entry of his in the blank page of his Schrevelius that Harlequin was his favourite part in a pantomime. Of his youth, which all accounts agree in representing as genial and amiable, little more remains to be said, but that he was very awkward with his hands (often blotting out an error in his MS. by dipping his fingers into the ink-bottle)--could never get out of the 'awkward squad' in the Volunteer Corps which he joined--that he was round-shouldered and clumsy--had no taste or ear for music, and possessed a singularly inharmonious voice. Clearly, the outward gifts of our hero were not such as were likely to help him forward on his way through life. To judge what a change the fire of genius, years of study, and the advantages of moving amongst cultured and refined society can accomplish, his portrait, when he was about thirty-three years old, by Lawrence,[103] prefixed to Dr. Paris's 'Life'--or perhaps rather that by Phillips, R.A., which will be found in Polwhele's now rare little volumes the 'Biographical Sketches,' and in the 'Gentleman's Magazine' for 1829, should be examined.

As he grew up he is described as being of about the middle height, of remarkably active frame, and with a mobile countenance, which, though the features were not regular, was full of expression and vivacity. He had bright, wavy, brown hair, and eyes 'tremulous with light;' and his voice so improved by cultivation and experience that it became remarkably melodious. When to this are added his wonderful talents, his grand discoveries, and his eloquence, his sanguine temperament, his purpose firm, his spirits singularly cheerful and elastic, and his disposition ever philanthropic, it will easily be believed that his society was sought by all classes; and it is not to be wondered at if the attractions which such opportunities presented laid him open to the charge (from some quarters) of cultivating too much the wealthy and the powerful.[104] Davy, however, was too wise not to perceive the advantage of interesting such persons in the pursuits to which he was himself through life devoted. But he was really fond of intelligence in all classes, whenever and wherever he met with it; and there is an amusing story told of one of his street acquaintances, who showed the moon through a telescope, and who always refused to take Davy's penny, because, as the man said, of their being 'brother philosophers.'

But, to return to his youthful days. Davy's schooling probably did not cost his parents much, for in Dr. Cardew's time the charges were only £18 a year for board, and £4 for teaching, and perhaps some of these were paid by a very kind friend of the family, Mr. John Tonkin of Penzance. He 'put on harness' in 1793, when little more than fourteen years old (the year before his father died), by being articled on 16th February, to Dr. J. B. Borlase of Penzance, a gentleman who seems to have taken a kind and appreciative interest in the welfare of the lad.

Davy seems to have bestowed a fair amount of attention upon the studies pertaining to his profession, and is said to have been particularly kind and attentive to his master's patients, especially those of the poorer classes; but 'nourishing a youth sublime' on the preparation of pills and potions was out of the question; and we gladly find that, ere long, a more intellectual banquet was to be laid before him. He was at this time passionately fond of fishing and shooting, the former of which pursuits he dearly loved to the last: casting longing looks, even within a few days of his death, on the waters of Lake Leman on which he had often in earlier days thrown a fly. His charming book 'Salmonia' (_pace_ the shade of Christopher North) shows what a deep interest he always took in fishing, and, indeed, in Natural History generally. It is amusing to note here, that in later years his costume, hat included, when he went fishing, was, for purposes of concealment, _green_; when, however, he went shooting he adopted scarlet garments for distinction, having a great dread of being shot. Declamations by the shores of Mount's Bay were also a source of great pleasure to him, when a boy, and many a time did he harangue the waves, when he could not secure a human auditory.

We may be sure that chemistry was not omitted; and, in the attic of a house belonging to that worthy friend of the family--Mr. Tonkin--such apparatus as Davy could muster might have been found: phials, wine-glasses, teacups, and tobacco-pipes, and a few acids and alkalies were amongst the principal items, and--most treasured of all--an old clyster-pipe, washed ashore from a wreck, out of which he had contrived to manufacture an air-pump!

The crisis of Davy's life at length arrived. Mr. Davies Gilbert (then named Giddy) a Cornish gentleman eminent for his attainments, had his attention called to the youngster's scientific knowledge, and became his friend and patron--little thinking at the time that he was hereafter to become Treasurer of the Royal Society under Davy, and at length to succeed his _protégé_ as a President. It is noteworthy here--that Trelissick House, on the Fal, built by Davy's grandfather, for Mr. Daniell, became afterwards the property of Mr. Gilbert, and is now one of the seats of his grandson, Carew Davies Gilbert, Esq. Davies Gilbert also brought into public notice the Rev. Malachi Hitchins, once a miner, afterwards the principal calculator of the Nautical Almanac, and (conjointly with Samuel Drew) an historian of Cornwall; also the Rev. John Hellins, many years assistant to Dr. Maskelyne. He was moreover an early friend and adviser of Richard Trevithick (_q.v._).

It is said that when the boy Davy first saw Mr. Davies Gilbert's laboratory his tumultuous delight knew no bounds. Other appreciative friends now came forward; amongst them Dr. Edwards of Hayle Copper House, and Professor Hailstone, and Dr. Beddoes, representatives of the rival geological schools of Neptunists and Plutonists, as they were then called, to both of whom Davy was able to render valuable information; though he himself, with his usual sagacity, sided with the Plutonists. Gregory Watt, the youngest son of the renowned James Watt, was another of Davy's early acquaintances at Penzance; and from Watt the youth derived much valuable information and advice.

One result was the offer of an appointment, when he was about nineteen years old, as assistant in Dr. Beddoes's Pneumatic Hospital, at Dowry Square, Clifton,[105]--an establishment founded for the purpose of investigating the nature of the gases, with especial reference to their remedial influences.

This was an appointment after the young chemist's own heart. The salary was sufficient for his modest wants, and he forthwith renounced all claims to his share of the small family property, in favour of his mother and sisters. He threw himself at once with ardour into his work, and originated those celebrated but highly dangerous experiments on the effects of nitrous oxide, which indeed nearly cost him his own life, but which in their result have alleviated the sufferings of tens of thousands of his fellow-creatures. The description of one of the 'séances,' when experiments were tried on many different persons--including Southey, then Poet Laureate--were described by Davy in an amusing little poem.

The friendship with Southey was not only on a scientific basis;--the Poet recognised his brother-poet's faculty: and accordingly Southey submitted to Davy the proofs of his mystic poem 'Thalaba,' for criticism; whilst the younger bard contributed to the 'Anthology' of the elder. And while on this subject it may be added that Coleridge (another of his Clifton acquaintances), who often referred to Davy's enchanting manners, used to say, so Barrow tells us, that he was in the habit of attending Davy's lectures at the Royal Institution, 'in order to increase his stock of metaphors.' On another occasion Coleridge remarked: 'There is an energy and elasticity in Davy's mind which enables him to seize on and analyze all questions, pushing them to their legitimate consequences. Every subject in Davy's mind has the principle of vitality--living thoughts spring up, like the turf under his feet.' And Davy, of course, could not fail to admire the genius of Coleridge--it was he who persuaded the dreamy poet to give his well-known series of eighteen lectures on Shakespeare at the Royal Institution in 1808. Horne Tooke was another of Davy's admirers, and was so enchanted with him early in his career that he engaged Chantry to make a bust of the Cornish philosopher.

It is further evident that Southey had the highest possible opinion of Davy's talents, for he wrote thus to Taylor:

'Davy is proceeding in his chemical career with the same giant strides
as at his outset. His book upon the nitrous oxyd will form an epoch
in the science. I never witnessed such indefatigable activity in any
other man, nor ardour so regulated by cool judgment.'

In fact our poet-chemist must have been altogether a most fascinating man. An old personal acquaintance of his writes in the 'Gentleman's Magazine,' 1845, that 'when Davy is at ease, and excited in conversation, his splendid eyes irradiate his whole countenance, and he looks almost inspired.' But perhaps the best analysis of Davy's powers is that given in _Good Words_ for 1879, by Professor Ferguson, who has also written by far the most generally interesting account of the great chemist's discoveries:

'Davy's mind,' he says, 'presents so many characteristics, that one
cannot help thinking of it when perusing the narrative of his life
and discoveries. It is that of the highest type of experimentalists.
There is never any straining after either facts or laws. If there was
a practical problem to solve, there was an instinctive perception
required of the means to be employed. He asked his questions; Nature
replied gently, kindly. How could she keep silent when the being
she had made to learn from her inquired? There was never anything
superfluous, for he always saw the aim of the replies no less than of
the questions, and knew what to do next.

'Was it a question in science? the same instinct guided him to the
means. The intensest perception of real analogies led either to
the discovery of new bodies, and to the unravelling of obscure and
perplexed phenomena, or to the enunciation of views of general action,
which are only now adopted in all their extent and recognised as true.
It was thus that he declared against the oxygen theory of acids--that
he was never a devoted convert to Dalton's atomic views--and that he
was so thoroughly a dynamician in a science which is still almost
entirely statical. The laboratory, rather than the study, was the
scene of his triumphs; it was there where his strength lay. No
phenomenon was too minute to escape him; no consequence too improbable
not to be brought into connection with the premises; no law too wide
to be grasped in its known entirety. In all his work, in all his
thinking, there is a magnificence, an ever-burning light which makes
us lift up the head and gaze with purified vision upon the world, and
a wild freshness, a provocative thought which, while we recur to it
again and again, and are never sent away empty, are no less proofs of
this man's vivid and enduring individuality.'