LIBRARY. (continued 2)

This charge was disposed of; the body had drifted down to the mill-dam, where it was discovered entangled and supported by stakes, only a portion of the petticoat being visible. But the evidence of a maid-servant of Mistress Stout produced great excitement in Court. She told how the young barrister had arrived at the house of her mistress the night before the poor girl’s death; of how he had dined with the two ladies; how she had gone upstairs to prepare his bed, as he was invited to sleep, leaving the young people together, her mistress having retired early; how, when upstairs, she heard the house-door slam, and, going down to the parlour, found it empty. At first she was not alarmed, thinking Mistress Sarah had gone out for a stroll with Mr. Cowper, and would soon be back; but as time went on, she became very uneasy, and went and told her mistress. The two women sat up all night watching and listening, but had not liked to take any further steps, out of regard for Sarah’s reputation. They never saw her again till she was brought up from the river drowned. Then followed the ridiculous investigation of Cowper’s ‘accomplices,’ as they 123were termed—two attorneys and a scrivener, who had come down from London under very suspicious circumstances, i.e. to attend the Assizes; how they were all in a room together shortly after eleven o’clock, very wet, and in a great perspiration, and had been overheard to say, ‘Mistress Stout had behaved ill to her lover, but her courting days would soon be over,’ to which communication was added the astounding fact, that a piece of rope had been found in a cupboard adjoining the sitting-room.

It was fortunate for Spencer Cowper, who was not allowed the assistance of counsel, that his legal education, joined to a sense of conscious innocence, made his defence comparatively easy to him; but the task, on all accounts, must have been most distasteful and repugnant to a man of his character and position. He rose with dignity, and evinced great skill and decision of purpose in the manner in which he cross-examined the witnesses, and exposed the motives of sectarian and political animosity, which had been employed to weaken the interest of Sir William Cowper and his eldest son. So far his arguments were unhesitating,—he was now to be put to a harder test. He assured the Court that he deeply deplored the course he was compelled to take, but four lives were at stake, and he must, however reluctantly, violate the confidence of the dead. He brought many witnesses to substantiate the fact of the young Quaker having cherished a fatal passion for him, although she knew him to be married. When last in London, she had written to announce her intention of visiting him at his chambers in the Temple, to prevent which William Cowper had purposely said in her hearing that Spencer had gone into the country on business. Disappointed of this opportunity, Sarah wrote to invite him to stay at her mother’s house at Hertford during the Spring Assizes, which invitation he declined, having secured lodgings in the town. He also produced letters in which the poor girl said, ‘I am glad you have not quite forgotten there 124is such a person as myself,’ and, after hinting at what seemed unkindness, she begs him ‘so to order your affairs as to be here as soon as you can, which cannot be sooner than you are welcome.’

In another and later letter she was less ambiguous in her expressions: ‘Come life, come death,’ she says desperately, ‘I am resolved never to desert you.’ He further asserted that the continual rebuffs she received threw her into a state of melancholy, and that she often spoke of her intention to destroy herself. The prisoner continued, that on the first day of the Assizes he went first to his lodgings, but, unwilling to mortify Sarah, afterwards to her mother’s house, and stayed dinner; went out, and returned to supper; but when the maid had gone upstairs, and he was alone with the girl, although he declined detailing the conversation which ensued between them, he gave the judge and jury to understand that it was from consideration for her character that he left the house, which he did alone, and returned to his lodgings in the Market Place.

The next morning the news of the terrible event reached him. His brother William and his wife both testified to the state of despondency into which Sarah had lately fallen, and her frequent allusions to approaching death. As regarded ‘the accomplices,’ they gave good reasons for their coming to Hertford, and, for himself, he had never had any communication with them. The judge summed up in a vacillating and illogical manner, confessing that he was rather faint, and was sensible he had omitted many things, but could repeat no more of the evidence. The half-hour which it took the jury to deliberate must have seemed interminable to those members of Cowper’s family, already nearly maddened by suspense—above all, to the brother who sat near him, and followed the details of the trial with breathless interest. The jury returned, and, when the foreman answered the awful 125question, the prisoner was the one individual in Court who manifested the least emotion as the words ‘Not guilty’ echoed through the building, and all but the enemies and slanderers acknowledged the justice of the verdict. A feeble attempt was made to bring all the four accused men to a fresh trial, by what was then called an ‘appeal to murder,’ and there were various hearings on the subject by men of the highest standing in the law, William Cowper, on these occasions, being counsel for his brother. The proceedings, however, were quashed. Some scurrilous writings were published, in hopes of setting the tide of public opinion against Spencer, but they were soon forgotten. He pursued his profession, in which he rose to eminence; but it may easily be conjectured that, when presiding at a trial for murder, Judge Cowper must have felt, even more than the generality of his colleagues, the responsibility of his position, from an intimate and personal sympathy with the feelings of an accused prisoner; and he was remarked for his merciful tendencies. On the accession of George I., he was named Attorney-General to the Prince of Wales, was one of the managers on the trial of Dr. Sacheverell for high treason, and successively Chief-Justice of Chester, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, Serjeant-at-Law, and Judge of the Court of Common Pleas. He also sat in Parliament for Truro, and his sister-in-law, Lady Cowper, tells us that in 1714 the King gave M. Robethon (one of his favourite German Ministers) the grant of Clerk of the Parliament after the death of Mr. Johnson, who then held it, for any one he liked to name. ‘M. Robethon let my brother Cowper have it in reversion for his sons for £1800.’

By his wife, Pennington, daughter of John Goodere, Esq., Spencer had three sons,—William, John, and Ashley. The official appointments above alluded to were held in succession by the family for several years. He had also a daughter, Judith, known as a poetess, married to Lieut.-Colonel 126Madan. Spencer Cowper died at his chambers in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, in 1728, and was buried at Hertingfordbury, where an elaborate monument is erected to his memory. He was grandfather to William Cowper the poet.

No. 11.

WILLIAM, FIRST EARL COWPER, FIRST LORD CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN.

Full length. In Chancellor’s robes. Flowing wig. Chair.

BORN 1664, DIED 1723.

By Richardson.

HE was the eldest son of Sir William Cowper, the second Baronet, by Sarah, daughter of Sir Samuel Holled, merchant, of London, and was born at Hertford Castle. He went to school at St. Albans, and seems to have been of a most docile disposition, to judge by a letter written to his mother when only eight years old. He says: ‘I thank you for my bow and arrows, which I shall never use but when my master gives us leave to play. I shall hereafter take more care of my spelling and writing, even without ruled lines.’

His childish letters were written in a fair hand, giving promise of the beautiful writing for which the future Lord Chancellor was famed, and were addressed with much punctilio, ‘These for my ever honoured mother, the Lady Cowper, at her house in the Charter-House Yard, London.’

The boy took great pains, not only with his writing, but with his style, so much so as to cause a suspicion in his 127mother’s mind that one of the epistles was dictated by an usher, an insinuation which the young student repelled with some asperity. It seems doubtful whether he ever went to a public school, and certainly he never entered a University; but at eighteen he became a Templar, giving himself up rather to pleasure than study in these first years of a London life. He formed a connection with a Miss Culling of Hertingfordbury, by whom he had two children. This liaison was much talked of, and by many it was reported he had married her, a circumstance which caused him much annoyance at a later period. In 1686 he became attached to one Mistress Judith Booth, wise and beautiful, but poor withal, in consequence of which his family opposed the marriage. His father was in the prime of life, and had other children to provide for; but, in spite of all opposition, the wedding took place, and the young husband became studious and steady from the pressure of domestic responsibility. He writes an amusing letter to his wife, describing his maiden motion in the Court of King’s Bench, and tells her that he was blamed for not interweaving enough ‘May it please your Lordships’ and the like urbanities in his speech, adding, ‘but I will amend in future, and you shall find me begin to practise extraordinary civilities on your sweet self.’

The precepts and example of Sir William Cowper had instilled principles of political liberality in the young lawyer’s mind which made him regard with disapprobation and anger many of Charles II.’s (public) proceedings, towards the latter part of his reign, and still more so those of his successor, added to which considerations the Cowper family were rigid Protestants; and thus it came about that when the Prince of Orange landed in England, the brothers William and Spencer hastily raised a small body of volunteers, and set forth, with more than a score of young gentlemen of the same political tendencies, to join William.

128In a diary he sent to his wife, Cowper gives an amusing description of how he fell in with the Prince at Wallingford, at a small inn, where he saw him ‘dine with a great variety of meats, sauces, and sweetmeats, which, it seems, is part of the fatigue we admire so much in great generals!’

He travelled with the Prince to Windsor, where they were received with unfeigned pleasure; and he speaks of the new face of the Court, ‘where there is nothing of the usual affectation of terror, but extreme civility to all sorts of people, and country women admitted to see the Prince dine.’ He does not mention a circumstance which befell in this journey; but his daughter, Lady Sarah, who had the particulars from her uncle Spencer, proudly records an instance of her father’s gallantry:—On the bridge at Oxford, the small regiment of Hertfordshire volunteers found one of the arches broken down, and an officer, with three files of musketeers, who presented arms, and asked who they were for. There was a silence, as the volunteers did not know to which side their questioners belonged. ‘But my father,’ says Lady Sarah, ‘was quite unconcerned, and, spurring his horse forward, he flung up his hat, crying, “The Prince of Orange,” which was answered by a shout, for they were all of the same mind.’

When the new King no longer required his services, Cowper resumed his profession with diligence and zeal. He writes to his wife to express his regret at not being able to stay with her in the country; but, had he done so, he would throw himself out of the little business he had.

Another time he writes from Kingston, giving an account of his having achieved a journey through the Sussex ways (which are ruinous beyond imagination) without hurt. ‘I vow ’tis a melancholy consideration that mankind should inhabit such a heap of dirt.’

Lord Campbell tells us, writing from Abinger Hall in 1845, ‘that it is a still common expression in that part of Surrey, 129that those who live on the south side of Leith Hill are in the dirt.’ Cowper contrasts the damp undrained tracts of Sussex with the fine champaign country of Surrey, dry and dusty, ‘as if you had shifted in a few hours from winter to mid-summer.’

The lawyer was rising gradually to great estimation in his profession, and his friend Lord Chancellor Som̅ers suggested to him to go into Parliament, believing he would be most serviceable to the Whig party. When the elections took place in 1695, the Whigs were in the ascendant, and both Sir William Cowper and his eldest son were returned for Hertford, the Quakers being their chief supporters.

Young Cowper’s maiden speech gave promise (afterwards well fulfilled) of his qualifications as a debater. He was in great favour at Court, and, being raised to the rank of King’s Counsel, distinguished himself by his eloquence in the prosecution of more than one State prisoner. During the trial of Lord Mohun, for the murder of Richard Coote, Cowper received a tribute for the clearness and excellence of his voice, a quality for which, in after times, he became proverbial. Several of the Lords, whose patience was being sorely tried by the confused, indistinct tones in which the Solicitor-General summed up, moved that some one with a good voice, ‘particularly Mr. Cowper,’ should be heard,—a great compliment to the gentleman, although the motion was overruled. The Cowper family, and Sir William’s eldest son in particular, seemed in the good graces of fortune, until the untoward event occurred which threw all those who bore the name into distress and perplexity, being, namely, the charge of murder against Spencer Cowper, as already recorded in our notice of his life. He and his brother were much attached, were members of the same profession, and travelled the same Circuit—in fact, were almost inseparable companions.

130The justice of Spencer Cowper’s acquittal was unquestionable, yet the popular feeling ran so high in the town and neighbourhood, especially among the community of which the unfortunate girl was a member, that it was clear to every one that no candidate bearing the name of Cowper would be successful at the next election. Sir William indeed retired from Parliamentary life altogether, and his eldest son having failed in his canvass for Totness, in Devon (for which place he had stood by the wish and advice of his friend and patron, Lord Som̅ers), he was fain to take refuge in the close borough of Berealstone, which he represented until intrusted with the Great Seal. William III. died, and Queen Anne reigned in his stead, ascending the throne with feelings most inimical to the Whig party. Affairs did not look promising for William Cowper, all the more so as Lord Som̅ers had fallen into great disfavour; but he weathered the storm, and when the general election in 1705 resulted in a majority for the Whigs, the Great Seal of England was transferred from the hands of Sir Nathan Wright to those of William Cowper. He had for some time been looked upon as leader in the House of Commons, where his agreeable manners and graceful address had made him personally popular. As in the case of his brother, slander had been busy with his name, and the report that he had married two wives (of which circumstance hereafter) had been widely circulated. But he had powerful friends at Court in the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Treasurer Godolphin; and her Majesty listened to their recommendations and her own bias in his favour, and William Cowper kissed hands at Kensington Palace on his appointment as Lord Keeper of the Great Seal.

‘The youngest Lord Keeper,’ says his daughter, Lady Sarah (he was in his forty-first year), ‘on record.’ ‘He looked very young, and wearing his own hair made him appear more so, which the Queen observing, obliged him to cut it 131off, remarking, it would be said she had given the Seals to a boy.’

It was about this time he contracted his second marriage; he had sorely mourned for the death of his wife Judith, and her child, but the charms of a fair client had made a deep impression on his heart. Mary, daughter of John Clavering, Esq. of Chopwell, county Durham (a gentleman of Tory principles), was handsome, as we see from Kneller’s portrait—sensible, and intelligent, as we gather from her charming diary.

The marriage was at first kept secret, which seems unaccountable, as the lady was well born, well bred, and of great personal charms. But she herself gives us a clue to the mystery. The Lord Keeper was still young, very handsome, in a high position, with every prospect of advancement, and the eyes of many a Court beauty were turned on him as a desirable match. We have enlarged on all the intrigues that were carried on to prevent his union with his ‘dear rogue’ (as he fondly calls her in one of his letters) in the notice of Lady Cowper; suffice it to say that the sequel proved how excellent had been his choice. But he did not allow domestic happiness to interfere with official duties. He set himself, with the advice of Lord Som̅ers, to bring about reforms on many points in the Court of Chancery, and, above all, he took a step which met with the highest approbation among all but the few, who aspired to the dignity he had already attained; he abolished the custom of New Year’s gifts. For many years it had been expected of every person connected with the Court of Chancery to present the Lord Keeper or Lord Chancellor with gifts of provisions and wine. But latterly money had been substituted for these minor donations, and hundreds, and sometimes thousands, had been presented to the great official on the 1st of January.

132Lady Cowper tells us a laughable story of Lord Chancellor Nottingham (who spoke with a lisp). He used to stand by his table on New Year’s Day, for the better reception of the moneys, and every time he laid a fresh sum on the table he cried aloud, ‘O tyrant cuthtom!’

But before the advent of the year 1706, the Lord Keeper had it intimated to all those whom it might concern that the practice was abolished, having first, as (he considered) in duty bound, apprised the Prime Minister, Lord Godolphin, of his intention. In spite of his prohibition, some gifts appeared on the day in question, which were refused. He says in his Diary: ‘New Year’s gifts turned back. I pray God it do me more good than hurt.’

Now Lord Campbell, while praising the Lord Keeper’s magnanimity, accuses him of wanting the courage of his opinions; and, finding he had raised a storm amongst all the heads of all the departments that had benefited by this ‘tyrant custom’ of present-giving, implied he had done it in part unintentionally. If this be so, we know at least, and that from his wife’s diary, that on his second assumption of office, he adhered to his determination; for,—as to the people who presented these gifts, ‘it looked like insinuating themselves into the favour of the Court; and if it was not bribery, it looked too like it.’

Of the Lord Keeper’s disinterestedness in money matters, and his liberality, especially where men of talent were concerned, there can be no doubt. Colley Cibber tells us that when Sir Richard Steele’s patent as Governor of the Theatre Royal passed the Great Seal, Lord Cowper steadily refused all fees.

‘Cowper managed the Court of Chancery with impartial justice and great despatch, and was very useful in the House of Lords in the promotion of business.’ So far Burnet’s testimony. He was chosen one of the Lords Commissioners 133for England on the occasion of the Union with Scotland, and, being next in rank to the Archbishop of Canterbury (who did not attend), he occupied a most prominent post at the daily conferences. Lord Campbell tells us that, by his insight into character, and his conciliatory manners, he succeeded wonderfully in soothing Caledonian pride and in quieting Presbyterian jealousy. He regained his seat at Hertford in spite (as he thought, at least) of Lord Harley’s machinations; for between him and that Minister there was no love lost, although Harley had an exalted opinion of the Lord Keeper’s abilities. He was at this time in the Queen’s confidence, who sent for him one day to her closet, in order to consult him on the choice of a Chief Baron for Ireland. ‘I observed it was difficult to find a fit man; but it was obviously the interest of England to send over as many magistrates as it was possible from hence, being the best means to preserve the dependency of that country on England.’ The Queen said she understood that they had a mind to be independent if they could, but that they should not. Verily ‘l’histoire se rêpête de jour en jour.’ He was now raised to the peerage as Baron Cowper of Wingham, county Kent, and was deputed to offer the thanks of Parliament to his friend, the Duke of Marlborough, for his late victory at Ramilies.

The Act of Union appointed there should be one Great Seal for the United Kingdom, although a Seal should still be kept in Scotland for things appertaining to private right, and Lord Cowper was declared by the Queen in Council to be the first Lord Chancellor of Great Britain.

This was in May 1707. In the general election of 1708 the Whigs gained a decided majority, and Cowper’s enemy, Harley, retired; while his friend, Lord Som̅ers, was made President of the Council. Shortly after the famous trial of Dr. Sacheverell, at which the Lord Chancellor presided, the 134Whig Ministry resigned, and the Tories returned to power. Every endeavour was made by Harley and the Queen herself to induce Lord Cowper to retain office. He was subjected to the greatest importunity, in spite of his repeated refusals, and his repugnance ‘to survive his colleagues.’

He was actually followed down to Cole Green, ‘my place in Hertfordshire (where I had gone to visit my wife, who had lately lain in),’ by emissaries of the new Minister, and when he waited on her Majesty to resign the Seal in person, the Queen persisted in her refusal to receive it, and forced Lord Cowper to ‘take it away and think the matter over till the morrow.’ He returned unaltered in his decision, and Lord Campbell, from whom we quote so largely, says ‘he withdrew from her presence, carrying with him, what was far more precious than this badge of office, the consciousness of having acted honourably.’ Lord Cowper now sought quiet in his country house, but even here he was assailed by Swift’s abuse, and subjected to stormy visits from the Duchess of Marlborough, who came there more especially to vent her spleen by abuse of Queen Anne. Now Lord Cowper had opposed the Duke of Marlborough on more than one point when he considered his ambition overweening, but he was sincerely attached both to him and to his wife, and when the Duke and Duchess were attacked, their faithful friend raised his voice and pen in behalf of these ex-favourites. Lord Som̅ers was growing infirm, and Lord Cowper now led the Opposition in the House of Lords, where the Queen said she hoped he would still serve her. He replied he would act in the same manner as he would have done had he continued in the same office, to which her kindness had appointed him; and he kept his word.

He strove hard to deter his Royal mistress from what many in that day considered an unconstitutional proceeding, namely the creation of Peers for the special purpose of carrying a measure or strengthening a party—at least, so we gather from 135the Queen’s remark, ‘He was pleased to say to me he considered the House of Lords full enough!’ in spite of which remark twelve new peers of Tory tendencies took their seats a few days afterwards, who were facetiously asked if they would vote by their foreman. Lord Cowper never let an opportunity pass of paying a tribute to his aged friend, Lord Som̅ers; and we find a well-timed and two-sided compliment to Sir Isaac Newton, appointed by that nobleman to the Mastership of the Mint. Lord Cowper thanked the great philosopher for one of his scientific works written in Latin, and goes on to say, ‘I find you have taken occasion to do justice to that truly great man, my Lord Som̅ers, but give me leave to say the other parts of the book which do not appear to concern him are a lasting instance, among many others, to his clear judgment in recommending the fittest man in the whole kingdom to that employment.’ It was about this time that the feud between Oxford (Harley) and Bolingbroke (St. John) was at its height, the former still continuing his overtures to Cowper to coalesce, when the Gordian knot was cut asunder by the shears of Atropos. The Queen’s dangerous illness was announced, and the Treasurer’s staff wrested from Oxford’s grasp, and consigned by the dying sovereign into the hands of the Duke of Shrewsbury, who burst into the Cabinet while sitting, accompanied by the Duke of Argyll, with the important news that Oxford was dismissed, and Bolingbroke called upon to form a Ministry. Great confusion prevailed; all Privy Councillors were summoned to attend, and Lords Cowper and Som̅ers (both fast friends to the Hanoverian succession) repaired to Kensington Palace to make preparations for the reception of the new monarch—for Queen Anne had breathed her last.

On the accession of George I. Lords Justices were appointed by the Regency Act for the administration of the Government till the arrival of the King. The Whig Lords 136outnumbered the Tories, and Cowper was their guiding spirit. Their first measure was to name Joseph Addison secretary, and respecting this appointment a laughable story is told. Being directed to draw up an official statement of the death of Queen Anne, the great author was so deeply impressed with the responsibility of his situation, and so overwhelmed by a choice of words, that the Lords Justices lost all patience, and directed a common clerk to do the business. No change took place in the Government offices till the arrival of George from Hanover, with the exception of Lord Bolingbroke, ‘the Pretender’s friend,’ who was summarily dismissed. Lord Cowper, being one of those intrusted with this duty, and the recently appointed Treasurer, found the very doors of his office locked against him.

No sooner did George I. arrive from Hanover than the Whigs returned to power. Lord Cowper was summoned to the Royal presence, and the Great Seal once more intrusted to that worthy keeping.

‘The King was pleased to say he was satisfied with the character he had heard of me, and so I replied that I accepted the post with the utmost gratitude, and would serve his Majesty faithfully, and, as far as my health would allow, industriously.’

The Prince of Wales was in the outer room, and very cordial in his manner to the new Lord Chancellor.

On the 20th October 1714, the King was crowned, and Lord and Lady Cowper were both present. The lady had translated for the King’s benefit (seeing he knew no English) a memorial written by her lord, and entitled An Impartial History of Parties, decidedly in favour of Whig principles, which strengthened his Majesty’s predilection for his Chancellor; and indeed both husband and wife stood in high favour at Court, Lady Cowper having just been named Lady of the Bedchamber to the Princess of Wales. Now the King, although 137he had long looked forward to the possession of the English Crown, had never given himself the trouble to learn English, while Cowper had neither French nor German,—a circumstance which was productive of some difficulties in the new Parliament. The King’s ignorance and natural awkwardness were all the more distasteful to those who had been accustomed (we quote Lord Campbell’s words) ‘to the late Queen’s graceful delivery, scarcely excelled by what we ourselves so warmly admire.’

But could the voice of the last Queen-Regnant, though ‘it charmed all ears,’ rival for one moment those tones—to be heard, alas! so seldom now—which used to ring, clear and distinct as a silver bell, from one end of the House to the other, where the loud overstrained accents of angry men are so often inaudible?

In 1715 the Lord Chancellor acted as High Steward on the trial of the Jacobite Lords, ‘much,’ says Lady Cowper, ‘to my husband’s vexation and mine.’

Lord Winton, one of the prisoners, tried the Lord Steward’s patience so sorely by frivolous delays and impediments to the despatch of business, that Cowper, forgetting his usual equanimity, answered with some harshness, upon which Winton cried out, ‘I hope, my Lords, we are not to have what in my country is called Cowper Justice; that is, hang a man first, and try him afterwards.’ The Lord Steward was too dignified to vouchsafe an answer, but the sally caused some unseemly merriment in Court, and the saying ‘Cowper Justice’ was often quoted in after days by his enemies. He presided on several State trials, that of the ex-Minister Harley, Earl of Oxford, and others. About this period of his career a charge was brought against him of unfairness in the appointment and dismissal of magistrates, but his faithful secretary and expounder, Mary Cowper, came once more to his aid by translating his vindication for the King’s perusal. He writes to her on the subject—

138‘My dear, here is the postscript which I hope may soon be turned into French. I am glad to hear that you are well, which upon tryall I find myself too. Dear Rogue, yours ever and always.’

The proceedings were stopped, but the days of Cowper’s public life were numbered. Many intrigues had been at work among his political opponents, to induce, worry, or persuade the Lord Chancellor to vacate the Woolsack, but his wife’s diary lets us completely behind the scenes. She says, ‘My Lord fell ill again, which occasioned a report that he was about to resign; some said he had not health to keep in, others that the Lords of the Cabinet Council were jealous of his great reputation, which was true, for they had resolved to put Chief-Justice Parkes in his place.’ The lady goes on to say that her ‘disputes and arguments were the chief reason of his staying in,’ and how she ‘took three weeks to prevail on her Lord to remain.’ But the friendship that existed between the Prince and Princess of Wales and Lord and Lady Cowper was very disadvantageous to the latter pair, as regarded the favour of the Sovereign, for at this juncture the Royal father and son were at daggers drawn, so that it was difficult for any one to keep friends with both sides. Doubtless worry and perplexity of all kinds tended to increase the indisposition of the Lord Chancellor, for his wife now gave up all idea of pressing him to remain in office. She told him ‘that if it were any pleasure to him she would retire into the country, and never repent the greatest sacrifice she could make.’ And unquestionably it appeared that it would have been a sacrifice, for Mary Cowper was eminently fitted for a Court life, although her patience and forbearance were often sorely tried, as we gather from her diary. It is almost impossible to avoid occasional repetition, as the notices of husband and wife are naturally interwoven, though we have endeavoured to disentangle them.

The Chancellor was beset with importunities to exchange 139his post for that of President of the Council. He replied he would resign if they found a better man to fill his place, but he would never change the duties of which he could acquit himself with honour for such as he could not perform at all—a resolution we strongly recommend to the consideration of more modern statesmen.

Lady Cowper’s Diary.—‘The Prince says, there is no one in whom he has any confidence but my husband, and the King says Lord Cowper and the Duke of Devonshire are the only two men he has found trustworthy in the kingdom!’ But for all that, there seems little doubt that his Majesty, to whose ear birds of the air carried every matter, was not best pleased with the constant allusions made in conversation between the Prince of Wales and the Lord Chancellor to a future time, and all that was then to be done, when another head would wear the crown. Lord Cowper, writing to his wife from Hertfordshire, excuses himself for not attending Court, ‘as my vacations are so short, and the children require the presence of one parent at least; your sister is prudent, but they do not stand in awe of her, and there was no living till the birch was planted in my room.’—September 1716. The opposition which Lord Cowper offered to a proposed Bill, the passing of which would have made the Prince dependent on his father for income, put the finishing touch to his unpopularity with George I., although the Lord Chancellor wrote a letter (in Latin, the only language they understood in common) to his Majesty, to explain his views.

On the 15th April 1718, Lord Cowper resigned the Great Seal at the same time that he kissed hands on his elevation to an earldom. We cannot resist inserting in this place a tribute which was paid the Minister, though it was not published till after his death: ‘His resignation was a great grief to the well affected, and to dispassionate men of both parties, who knew that by his wisdom and moderation he had gained abundance 140of friends for the King; brought the clergy into better temper, and hindered hot, over-zealous spirits from running things into dangerous extremes.’ This, be it remembered, was written of one who had gone to his account, of no living patron who could benefit the writer. He now retired to his house at Cole Green, and busied himself in improving and beautifying his gardens and pleasure-grounds. Here he received many congratulations on being (as a protégé of his, one Hughes, a poet, expresses it) ‘eased of the fatigue and burthen of office.’

But, though Lord Cowper had felt the strife and contention of parties to be most irksome, yet he was so accustomed to official life, that he continued to take a deep interest in all the measures that were brought before the country. He strenuously supported the Test and Corporation Acts, and as vigorously opposed Lord Sunderland’s famous Peerage Bill, which proposed that the existing number of English Peers should never be increased, with exception in favour of Princes of the blood-royal, that for every extinction there should be a new creation; and, instead of sixteen elective Scotch Peers, the King should name twenty-five to be hereditary. A glance at the works of Sir Bernard Burke, Ulster King-at-Arms, and his collaborateurs, will be the best proof that Sunderland’s Bill was thrown out. Amongst those who were the most violent in the denunciation of this measure, were the wives and daughters of members in the House of Commons, who were supposed to have been instrumental (as we may believe from more recent experience) in influencing the votes of their relatives. We mention this circumstance as bearing in some degree on our subject. In the beginning of 1722 an incident occurred which was differently construed by the admirers and detractors of the ex-Chancellor.

On the 3d February, the House of Lords having assembled, the absence of the reigning Lord Chancellor, as likewise that of the Lord Chief-Justice, was remarked, and much difficulty 141arose as to the proceeding of the House. Lord Cowper, most indignant at the defalcation of his successor, moved that the Duke of Somerset, the peer of highest rank present, should occupy the Woolsack, and, on his refusal, further proposed that course to the Duke of Kingston and Lord Lechmere; but the discussion was put an end to by the arrival of the Chancellor, in most undignified and hot haste, full of excuses of having been detained by his Majesty, and of apologies to their Lordships for having kept them waiting. Lord Cowper, and several of his way of thinking, were not so easily appeased, and one of them moved that the House, to show its indignation, should adjourn till Monday next without transacting any further business. The motion was negatived, but Lord Cowper and his friends signed a protest, which went to say, that the excuses which had been alleged seemed inadequate to justify the indignity offered to the House,—‘undoubtedly the greatest council in the kingdom, to which all other councils should give way, and therefore no other business ought to have detained the Chancellor,’ etc.; ‘also, we venture to say, the dignity of this House has not of late years been increasing, so we are unwilling that anything that we consider to be a gross neglect of it should pass without some note on our records.’ We cannot help alluding to this curious circumstance, as it bears so strongly on the state of party feeling at the time, and of Lord Cowper’s individual feelings in particular.

The exiled Royal family had on several occasions applied to him for his support and assistance, and, although he had treated the communications with neglect and refusal, yet his enemies were industrious in setting rumours abroad prejudicial to the ex-Chancellor’s loyalty to the house of Hanover. Layer (afterwards executed for conspiracy) had brought in his name when examined before a Committee of the House of Commons, which was, for the most part, only too ready to listen to any slander against the ex-Minister.

142Lord Cowper entered a protest in the Parliamentary Journal, that the charges brought against him in this matter were false, ‘upon his honour,’ the usual oath of a Peer. He manfully opposed the Bill for the banishment of Bishop Atterbury, who was voted guilty of high treason without a hearing. ‘The alleged culprit,’ he says, ‘stands at your bar, and has never attempted to fly from justice. If there be legal evidence against him, let him be legally convicted; without legal evidence he must be wrongly condemned.’

After much more in the same forcible strain, he continues, ‘I can guess at no other advantage that the Church can derive from this Bill, except that it will cause a vacancy in the Deanery of Westminster and the See of Rochester.’

Lord Campbell quotes a saying of Lord Bathurst on the same debate, which is worth recording. He ‘could not account for the inveterate malice which some people bore to the learned and ingenious Bishop, unless possessed of the infatuation of the wild Indians, who believe they will not only inherit the spoils but also the abilities of the enemy they kill.’ But, in spite of eloquence and sarcasm, Bishop Atterbury was banished. Cowper’s last public act was to vote against Sir Robert Walpole’s Bill for the imposition of a heavy tax on the estates of the Roman Catholics. This proposed injustice he strenuously opposed, one of his chief arguments being as follows: ‘I beg your Lordships to reflect if you are not yourselves injuring the Protestant cause, for Protestants might have severe hardships inflicted on them abroad, by reason of our persecution of Roman Catholics at home.’

The remainder of his life was passed between Cole Green and London. As we have before observed, he superintended the management of his estate, presided over the education of his children, and enjoyed the society of his friends; but his letters go to prove that the interest he still took in public affairs preponderated over that he felt in the pursuits of a country 143life. He was too often deprived of the consolation of his wife’s presence in his Hertfordshire home, in consequence of her close attendance on the Princess of Wales. He writes to her most affectionately, and gives her excellent advice, such as, ‘If you discern that any at your Court are sowing seeds that will raise strife, I hope you will do your best to root ‘em out; and when you have so done your duty, you will have more reason to be unconcerned at the event, if it should be unfortunate. Though, when you have done so well, I would not have you so much as hope that there are not some who will represent you as an intolerable mischief-maker. I thank you for your endearing and, I depend, very sincere expressions; but, considering all things, I think it is but reasonable that you should find something more satisfactory in a Court than you can in the home of a retired Minister—who, you know, is always a peevish creature—and so solitary a place. The Attorney-General puts me in mind of the choice by which they generally try idiots: it is to see if they will choose an apple before a piece of gold. It is cruel to tantalise a poor country man with the life of state and pleasure you describe. I could be content as I am if I did not hear of such fine doings.’

He thinks the best way, ‘since we neither beat nor fine our servants, is to make them so content that they will fear being turned away. John’s drunkenness seems a tertian, having one sober day between two drunken ones. On Friday it proved quotidian.’ He finds ‘the country pleasant,’ but it dulls him, and he takes an aversion to all but the little ones of the place. The last letter he ever wrote to his wife was dated from London, she being at Cole Green, one week before his death—the fine handwriting, much impaired. He complains to his dearest Mary, ‘that man and wife cannot correspond with innocent and proper freedom, without its being a diversion to a third person,’ and he signs himself, 144after promising to be with her soon, ‘yours with perfect affection.’ He returned home on the day appointed, but he had caught cold on his journey thither, and was seized with an alarming illness. Happily his wife was by his bedside to minister to his necessities, with all the tenderness of devoted affection; his children, too, whom he so much loved, were with him. When told that he had not long to live, Lord Cowper listened calmly, and his death was composed and peaceful. He was buried in the parish church of Hertingfordbury, but no tablet marks the last resting-place of William, Earl Cowper, first Lord Chancellor of Great Britain.

Lord Campbell, in the interesting Life from which we have so largely quoted, speaks of those who praised him and those who maligned him. Swift, who had no call to be severe in matters of morality, and his friend Mrs. Manley, had been very instrumental in promulgating the slander respecting a clandestine marriage between Cowper and the young lady of whom he was guardian,—a charge which was so often repeated that it gained credit among some of his political enemies, at least, who gave him the nickname of ‘Will Bigamy.’

The great Voltaire, in his Philosophical Dictionary, does not disdain to assure his readers that the English Lord Chancellor not only practised, but wrote a pamphlet in favour of, polygamy! ‘Il est public en Angleterre, et on voudroit le nier en vain, que le Chancellier Cowper, épousa deux femmes, qui vécurent ensemble dans sa maison, avec une concorde singulière, qui fit honneur à tous les trois.’ This was one of the observations made by the great French philosopher, when he was so obliging as to come over for the purpose of studying our manners and customs; but Lord Cowper was rich in panegyrists both in prose and verse—the latter effusions, to our taste, too stilted and artificial, for the most part, to be worthy of insertion; but a passage 145from a paper in the Spectator is a graceful and characteristic tribute to his many gifts:—

‘It is Lord Cowper’s good fortune ever to please and to be pleased; wherever he comes, to be admired, or is absent, to be lamented. His merit fares like the pictures of Raphael, which are seen with admiration, or at least no one dare own he has no taste for a composition which has received so universal an applause. It is below him to catch the sight by any care of dress; he is always the principal figure in the room. He first engages your sight, as if there were stronger light ‘upon him than on any other person. Nothing can equal the pleasure of hearing him speak but the satisfaction one receives in the civility and attention he pays to the discourse of others.’ So far the Spectator: his character, drawn in the Historical Register, speaks in the most glowing terms of his eminence as a lawyer, civilian, and statesman, and winds up with these words: ‘a manly and flowing eloquence, a clear, sonorous voice, a gracious aspect, and an easy address; in a word, all that is necessary to form a complete orator.’

The Duke Wharton, speaking of him in his official capacity, says, ‘He had scarcely presided in that high station for one year before the scales became even, with the universal approbation of both parties.’ Lord Chesterfield, although there was a little sting mixed with the praise, records ‘his purity of style, his charm of elocution, and gracefulness of action. The ears and eyes gave him up the hearts and understandings of his audience.’ We would merely add that if to any reader of these pages such praise should appear in any way exaggerated, we must remind them they were all written after there was no more to be hoped from the gratified vanity of Lord Cowper. His trust and humility as a Christian are testified by an entry in his Diary, on his appointment as Lord Keeper: ‘During these great honours done me, I often reflected on the uncertainty of them, and even of life itself. I searched my 146heart, and found no pride and self-conceit in it; and I begged God that He would preserve my mind from relying on the transient vanity of the world, and teach me to depend only on His providence, that I should not be lifted up by present success, or dejected when the reverse should happen. And verily, I believe, I was helped by His Holy Spirit.’

When the reverse did come, he added, ‘Glory be to God, who has sustained me in adversity, and carried me through the malice of my enemies, so that all designed for my hurt turned to my advantage.’ It is evident that Lord Cowper, although he loved the exercise of those public offices for which he was so well fitted, knew how to retire into private life with dignity and composure. One short anecdote, and we have done. It so happened that Richard Cromwell, in his old age, had to undergo an examination in Westminster Hall, at a moment when the name of the ex-Protector’s family was execrated through the kingdom. The Lord Chancellor treated the fallen dignitary with more than common respect, and courteously ordered a chair to be placed for him,—treatment which contrasted with that experienced by Richard when driven from the door of the House of Lords with insults as one of the common mob, exclaiming as he went, ‘The last time I was here I sat upon the throne!’

Lord Cowper had gained the good fortune he deserved; he built a house at Cole Green, and made a collection of pictures which forms part of the splendid gallery now at Panshanger. His London houses were situated in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and Great George Street. He had also a lodging at Kensington,—‘the roads about that distant spot being,’ we are assured, ‘so secure, that there was no danger in travelling thence to London at night.’

147No. 12.

WILLIAM, SECOND EARL COWPER.

Blue coat. Red waistcoat.

BORN 1709, DIED 1764.

MARRIED in 1732 Lady Henrietta, daughter and co-heir of Henry de Nassau d’Auverquerque (Overkirche), Earl of Grantham. She was the sole surviving descendant of the legitimised offspring of Maurice, Prince of Orange, Stadtholder. In 1733 Earl Cowper was appointed Lord of the Bedchamber, a post he afterwards resigned; subsequently Lord Lieutenant, and Custos Rotulorum of the county of Hertford. He assumed the prefix of Clavering to that of Cowper, in pursuance of his uncle’s will. By his first wife Lord Cowper had one son, and one daughter; by his second wife, Caroline Georgiana, daughter of the Earl Granville, widow of the Honourable John Spencer, he had no children. He was buried at Hertingfordbury, and succeeded by his only son.

148No. 13.

GEORGE, THIRD EARL COWPER.

Red dress. Light-coloured cap.

BORN 1738, DIED 1789.

By Raphael Mengs (?).

ELDEST son of the second Earl Cowper by Lady Henrietta, youngest daughter and co-heir of Henry d’Auverquerque, Earl of Grantham. King George II., the Duke of Grafton, and Princess Amelia stood in person as sponsors at his baptism. In 1754 he came into a large fortune on the death of the aforesaid Earl of Grantham, and in 1759 was elected M.P. for the town of Hertford. While his father was yet alive, Lord Fordwich (as he then was) went on his travels, and, arriving at Florence, fell in love with that beautiful city, and with one of its beautiful citizens, the Princess Corsi. The lady was married, or the young lord would doubtless have carried her to England as his wife, and thus escaped the blame, cast upon him by Horace Walpole, of disobeying the summons of his dying father in 1764. So delighted was George, Lord Cowper, with his sojourn in Florence, which he had originally visited with the intention of passing a short time there, that he remained within its charmed walls for upwards of thirty years. He outlived his infatuation for the fair Florentine, and married, in 1775, Anna, daughter of Charles Gore, a gentleman at that time residing in Florence with his family, who was said to have been the original of Goethe’s travelled Englishman in Wilhelm Meister. Lord Cowper was most desirous of obtaining 149permission to add the royal surname of Nassau to his own patronymic, on the plea that he was one of the representatives of the Earl of Grantham (an extinct title); but there were many difficulties in the way, and while the matter was pending he received a high mark of distinction from the Emperor of Austria, through the instrumentality of his Imperial Majesty’s brother, Peter Leopold, Grand Duke of Tuscany, at whose Court Lord and Lady Cowper (but especially the latter) stood in high favour. This was the grant of a patent to Lord Cowper, which bestowed on him the rank of a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire. That arch-gossip, but most amusing letter-writer, Horace Walpole, in his correspondence with his friend Sir Horace Mann, British Envoy at Florence, takes a most unaccountable interest in the private concerns and aspirations of Lord Cowper, and thus animadverts on the subject of his foreign names and titles: ‘There is another hitch in the great Nassau question. The objection is now started, that he must not bear that name with the title of Prince. The Emperor thought he had hit on a clever compromise for his protégé, by giving up the name of Nassau, and substituting that of Auverquerque. But my Lord’s cousins object to that also, so now he is reduced to plain Prince Cowper, for which honour he has to pay £500.’

Again: ‘I do not think either the Emperor or Lord Cowper knows what he is about. Surely an English peer, with substantial dignity in his own country, is more dignified than a man residing in another country, and endowed with a nominal principality in a third!’

Again: ‘I believe both Emperor and Prince begin to regret the step. The Imperial diploma dubs him Highness, but he himself will not allow any one to address him in any other way than Lord Cowper.’

It was not very long after their marriage that Horace Walpole glances at the report of a possible separation between 150Lord and Lady Cowper, but without assigning any reason. There can be little doubt that the union was not a happy one, for, whatever other ground of complaint the husband might have had, Lady Cowper was of a quarrelsome and unconciliatory disposition, and her sister, who lived with the family at Florence, seems, by all accounts, to have been far the more amiable of the two. Miss Berry alludes to a visit she paid her compatriots at Lord Cowper’s house in Florence, ‘where you have the best of society, both native and foreign, and where all the English (in particular) are desirous of obtaining an introduction.’ She goes on to describe the house as ‘fitted up in a peculiar manner: one room as a museum, another as a laboratory, a third a workshop; in fact, too many to enumerate.’ He was evidently a man of very versatile tastes, and one who had many irons in the fire at the same moment. In 1781 Horace Walpole, alluding to the fact that the three Cowper boys had been sent over to England for their education, says, ‘It is astonishing that neither parent nor child can bring your principal Earl from that specific spot,—but we are a lunatic nation.’ Another letter speaks of a vacant green ribbon, and the possibility it might be given to Lord Cowper, if he were on the spot; ‘but he won’t come. I do allow him a place in the Tribune at Florence. An English earl, who has never seen his earldom, and takes root and has fruit at Florence, and is proud of his pinchbeck principality in a third country, is as great a curiosity as any in the Tuscan Collection.’

Lord Cowper did go to England at last, and Walpole owns to his going to a concert at Mrs. Cosway’s—‘out of curiosity, not to hear an Italian singer sing one song, at the extravagant sum of £10—the same whom I have heard half a dozen times at the opera-house for as many shillings—but to see an English earl, who had passed thirty years at Florence, and thought so much of his silly title, and his order from Würtemberg! You know, he really imagined he was to 151take precedence of all the English dukes, and now he has tumbled down into a tinsel titularity. I only meant to amuse my eyes, but Mr. Durens brought the personage up, and presented us to each other. He answered very well, to my idea, for I should have taken his Highness for a Doge of Genoa. He has the awkward dignity of a temporary representative of a nominal power. I wonder his Highness does not desire the Pope to make one of his sons a bishop in partibus infidelium, and that Miss Anne Pitt does not request his Holiness to create her Principessa Fossani.’

It is inconsistent with the character of Horace Walpole, who did not disdain rank or titles, and who was by no means insensible to the charm of decorations—whether of walls or button-holes—to inveigh so harshly against a dignity which entitles the owner to the privilege, dear in heraldic eyes, of bearing his paternal coat on the breast of the Imperial Eagle.

England could not long detain Lord Cowper from the country of his adoption. He returned to Florence, where he died in 1789. The greater part of the Italian pictures in this beautiful collection was purchased by the third Lord Cowper, who was a true lover of art, and who was reduced to great difficulties, on more than one occasion, in conveying his pictures out of Florence, the inhabitants of that city being averse to parting with such treasures. One of the most valuable is said to have been concealed in the lining of his travelling carriage, when he went to England.

152No. 14.

GEORGE AUGUSTUS, FOURTH EARL COWPER.

Peer’s Parliamentary robes. Powder.

BORN 1776, DIED 1799.

By Jackson.

BORN at Florence, Sir Horace Mann stood proxy as godfather for the King of England at the boy’s baptism, and Sir Horace Walpole writes to the Minister giving him information on some especial points of etiquette to be observed on the occasion. Lord Cowper died suddenly. He was unmarried, and was succeeded by his brother, Peter Leopold.

No. 15.

PETER LEOPOLD FRANCIS NASSAU, FIFTH EARL COWPER.

In Peer’s Parliamentary robes

BORN 1778, DIED 1837.

By Northcote.

HE was the second son of the third Earl, born at Florence, godson to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, married, in 1805, Emily, only daughter of Peniston Lamb, first Viscount Melbourne (afterwards Viscountess Palmerston), by whom he had three sons,—George, his successor, William, and Spencer, and two daughters, the Countess of Shaftesbury and Viscountess Jocelyn. He succeeded 153his brother. Lord Campbell, in his Lives of the Chancellors, concludes his notice of the first Earl Cowper with a sincere tribute of admiration to Peter Leopold, the fifth earl:—

‘He had too much delicacy of sentiment to take a leading part in public life, but to the most exquisitely pleasing manners he joined a manly understanding and a playful wit. From him I received kind and encouraging notice when I was poor and obscure; and his benevolent and exhilarating smile is one of the most delightful images in my memory of pleasures to return no more.’

No. 16.

JOHN OF NASSAU, COUNT OF NASSAU SIEGEN; HIS WIFE AND FAMILY.

The Count and Countess are seated side by side in a large vestibule; he is richly dressed, and wears the collar of the Golden Fleece; a dog at his feet. On the lap of the Countess lies a small spaniel, and at her side leans her son, in a red dress. Three daughters, in different-coloured frocks, stand together; the eldest holds a rose.

BORN 1583, DIED 1638.

By Vandyck.

HE was surnamed the Junior, son of Count John of Nassau Siegen by his wife, Margaret de Waldeck. He began public life in the service of the Archbishop of Cologne, and afterwards entered that of the United Provinces, in which he fought against Spain. But the Count considered that he was slighted, and his merits not duly appreciated by the Government, and in 154disgust he renounced the Protestant faith in 1609 (or 1613), at the Hague, where he published an explanation of the motives which led him to embrace the tenets of the Church of Rome. He moreover transferred his military services to the Emperor of Germany, Ferdinand II., the sworn enemy of the Protestants, the adversary of the unfortunate King of Bohemia, of Gustavus Adolphus, and all the heroes of the Reformed religion in the early part of the Thirty Years’ War. In 1620, when the Stadtholder, Frederic Henry, was besieging Bois-le-Duc, the Count of Nassau Siegen (his kinsman) invaded Holland at the head of eight or ten thousand men, and took the town of Amersfoort. The following year, in command of a small army, he encamped in the neighbourhood of Rynberg, and did all in his power to prevent his brother William from crossing the Rhine between Broek and Orsoy. In this attempt he was defeated, wounded, and carried prisoner to Wesel, where, we are told, his brother frequently visited him during his captivity. When his wounds were cured, Count John purchased his freedom with the sum of ten thousand rixdollars; but he narrowly escaped being taken prisoner a second time, in a naval engagement with the Spaniards. This was at Mosselkreek (the Creek of Mussels), where his vessels were stranded, and he lost a considerable number of men. The Dutch on this occasion gave him the derisive title of Mussulman. In 1637 he made an unsuccessful attempt to surprise Rynberg; and in 1638 death put an end to his adventurous, but by no means blameless, career.

It is impossible to look on Vandyck’s splendid picture without experiencing a feeling of profound regret that a brave and able soldier, a man of so imposing a presence, and so noble a bearing, should have renounced the faith for which numerous members of his family had fought and bled, and drawn his sword against his native land in the service of an 155alien sovereign. The proud order of the Golden Fleece which hangs round his neck seems but a poor distinction when we remember the circumstances by which it was obtained. In 1618 he had married Ernestine, daughter of Lamoral, Prince de Ligne, by whom he had one son and three daughters:—

John Francis Desideratus, Prince of Nassau Siegen, Knight of the Golden Fleece, and Spanish Governor of Guelderland in 1688. He had three wives: first, Johanna Claudia, daughter of John, Count of Köningseck, who died in 1664; second, Eleanor Sophia, daughter of Hermann Fortunatus, Margrave of Baden, who died in 1668; third, Isabella Clara Eugenia de la Serre, alias de Montant, ‘a noble lady.’ She died in 1714. Prince John of Nassau Siegen had eleven children. He died in 1690.

The three daughters represented in this family group were—

1. Ernestine, married to the Prince Maurice Henry, Hadawar.

2. Clara Mary, married first Albert Henry, Prince de Ligne, and afterwards Claudius Lamoral, his brother.

3. Lamberta Alberta, who died unmarried.

157

ANTE-LIBRARY.

159