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of Suffolk, and that he died Jan. I, 1741,
aged fifty-seven.
68. We come now to the monument
erected to the memory of that brave com-
mander the Lord Aubrey Beauclerk, orna-
mented with arms, trophies, and naval en-
signs, and in an oval nich on a beautiful
pyramid of dove-coloured marble, is a fine
bust of that young Hero. On this pyramid
is the following historical inscription:
The Lord Aubrey Beauclerk was the
youngest son of Charles Duke of St.
Albans, by Diana, daughter of Aubrey
de Vere Earl of Oxford. He went early
to sea, and was made a commander in
1731. In 1740, he was sent upon that
memorable expedition to Carthagena,
under the command of Admiral Vernon,
in his Majesty's ship the Prince Frederic,
which, with three others, was ordered
to cannonade the castle of Boccachica.
One of these being obliged to quit her
station, the Prince Frederic was exposed,
not only to the fire from the castle, but
to that of Fort St. Joseph, and to two
ships that guarded the mouth of the har-
bour, which he sustained for many hours
that day, and part of the next, with un-
common intrepidity. As he was giving
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his commands upon deck, both his legs
were shot off; but such was his magna-
nimity, that he would not suffer his
wounds to be dressed, till he communicated
his orders to his first Lieutenant, which
were, To fight his ship to the last extre-
mity. Soon after this he gave some di-
rections about his private affairs, and
then resigned his soul with the dignity of
a Hero and a Christian. Thus was he
taken off in the thirty-first year of his
age, an illustrious commander of supe-
rior fortitude and clemency, amiable in
his person, steady in his affections, and
equalled by few in the social and domestic
virtues of politeness, modesty, candour,
and benevolence. He married the wi-
dow of Col. Francis Alexander, a daugh-
ter of Sir Henry Newton, Knt. Envoy
Extraordinary to the Court of Florence
and the Republic of Genoa, and Judge
of the high court of Admiralty.
Over his inscription is the following
epitaph:
Whilst Britain boasts her Empire o'er the deep,
This mable shall compel the brave to weep;
As men, as Britons, and as soldiers mourn;
'Tis dauntless, loyal, virtuous Beauclerk's urn.
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