Chapter C (1)

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_No. 8._

ELIZABETH MILBANKE, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.

_Pale violet gown._

BY ROMNEY.

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_No. 9._

THE HONOURABLE PENISTON LAMB, ELDEST SON OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT
MELBOURNE.

_Tawny coat. White cravat. Powder._

BORN 1770, DIED 1805.

BY ROMNEY.

HE was the eldest child of the first Lord Melbourne, and his birth was
a source of great joy to both his parents. But from his earliest years
Peniston was the idol of his father, whom he resembled in many points,
both moral and physical; indeed, it was said no flattery was sweeter
to Lord Melbourne’s ear than to be assured of this resemblance. The
mother was very fond of her first-born; but as he grew on in years,
and his tastes developed, Lady Melbourne was mortified to find that
Peniston evinced no predilection for politics or public life; and,
finding in her second son William’s tastes more congenial with her
own, it was plain to see that William was the mother’s darling.
Peniston showed no jealousy; he was gentle-hearted and engaging; every
tenant on the estate, every servant in the house, every dog and horse
in the stable, loved him. He was a capital shot, and rode well to
hounds, while quite a little fellow; and Lord Melbourne was never
tired of telling how ‘Pen’ had led the field, or put his pony at the
stiffest bullfinch. His brothers were among his most devoted
worshippers; and in their happy romping days at Brocket, Peniston was
never tired of joining in their frolics, though with a certain dignity
becoming a senior. How exquisitely is this characteristic demeanour
portrayed in the beautiful picture of the three boys by Sir Joshua
Reynolds, which he named ‘The Affectionate Brothers,’ described in a
late page.

In 1793 Lord Melbourne vacated his seat in Parliament, and Peniston
represented Newport, and afterwards Hertfordshire county, in the
House. He had never been very strong, and being suddenly attacked by
an illness, for which the physicians could in no way account, he
expired, to the despair of his father, the grief of his whole family,
and the deep regret of the county. Reynolds, Romney, Mrs. Cosway, and
Stubbs, were all called on to perpetuate the handsome form and
features of this darling of the household.

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_No. 10._

THE HONOURABLE HARRIET AND EMILY LAMB, CHILDREN OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT
MELBOURNE.

_White frocks. Pink sashes. Harriet has a cap on her head._

BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE.

HARRIET died young. Emily was successively the wife of Lord Cowper and
Lord Palmerston. In later days she remembered perfectly romping on the
floor with her little sister, who had just snatched her cap off her
head, when the door opened, and their mother came in accompanied by a
gentleman in black, who was very kind, and said, ‘Nothing can be
better than that;’ and he painted the little girls just as he had
found them. Lawrence, then a very young man, was on a visit at
Brocket.

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_No. 11._

ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.

_In a small carriage, drawn by grey ponies. She wears a white cloak
and hat. Her father_, SIR RALPH MILBANKE, _in the centre; grey
coat, blue and yellow waistcoat. Her brother_, JOHN MILBANKE;
_grey horse; pale blue coat, buff waistcoat, breeches, and
top-boots_. LORD MELBOURNE _on a brown horse; dark blue coat,
yellow breeches. All the gentlemen wear tri-corne hats._

BY STUBBS.

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_No. 12._

ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.

_White muslin dress. Blue bow._

BY HOPPNER.

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_No. 13._

PETER LEOPOLD FRANCIS, FIFTH EARL COWPER.

_Peer’s Parliamentary robes._

BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE.

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_No. 14._

THE HONOURABLE EMILY LAMB, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS COWPER, AND VISCOUNTESS
PALMERSTON.

_White dress. Coral necklace._

AGED SIXTEEN.

BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE.

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_No. 15._

THE HONOURABLE PENISTON LAMB, ELDEST SON OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT
MELBOURNE.

_With his horse Assassin, and his dog Tanner. Dismounted. Dark coat,
leathers, and top-boots. Brown horse, stretching towards a small
black-and-tan
dog._

BY STUBBS.

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_No. 16._

GEORGE AUGUSTUS NASSAU, THIRD EARL COWPER.

_Dark blue coat. Scarlet waistcoat and breeches. Shoes with buckles._

BY RAPHAEL MENGS.

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_No. 17._

HENRY COWPER, ESQUIRE, OF TEWIN WATER.

_Black coat. White cravat._

DIED 1825 (?).

BY JACKSON.

GRANDSON to Spencer Cowper (the celebrated Judge), and Deputy-Clerk of
the Parliaments for many years. There is an entry in Mary Countess
Cowper’s diary (wife of the Chancellor) in December 1714: ‘Monsieur
Robethon received the grant of the King of Clerk of the Parliament
after Mr. Johnson’s death for anybody he would name. He let our
brother Spencer Cowper have it in reversion after Mr. Johnson’s death
for his two sons for £1800.’ It was held in succession by the family
for several years. The reader of the poet Cowper’s life will remember
the tragical incident connected with this particular appointment.

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_No. 18._

THOMAS PHILIP, BARON GRANTHAM, BARON LUCAS, EARL DE GREY, K.G.

_Brown coat trimmed with fur. White waistcoat. Black cloak._

BORN 1786, DIED 1859.

AFTER ROBINSON.

HE was the eldest son of Thomas Robinson, second Lord Grantham (of
that name), by Lady Mary Yorke, second daughter of the second Earl of
Hardwicke. Succeeded to the barony of Grantham on the death of his
father, and to the earldom of De Grey on the death of his maternal
aunt (who was Countess De Grey in her own right), and at the same time
he assumed the surname of De Grey, in lieu of that of Robinson. In
1805 he married the beautiful Lady Henrietta Cole, fifth daughter of
the first Earl of Enniskillen. He was appointed First Lord of the
Admiralty, and Privy Councillor during Sir Robert Peel’s
Administration of 1834 and 1835, and on the return of Peel to power in
1841 Lord De Grey went to Ireland as Viceroy. Here he made himself
remarkable by his extreme hospitality and the splendour of his
establishment, while he discharged the more essential and difficult
duties of his office with zeal and ability. His departure in 1844
(when he resigned on account of his health) was much regretted, while
Lady De Grey left a name which was long remembered in Dublin, not only
for the charm of her manners and the beauty of her person, but for the
encouragement which she afforded to native talent and manufactures. On
leaving Ireland Lord De Grey retired from official life, and contented
himself with voting in Parliament as a Liberal Conservative. He became
Lord-Lieutenant of Bedfordshire, Knight of the Garter, and
aide-de-camp to the Queen. He was a member of many scientific and
industrial institutions, Fellow of the Royal Society, and of the
Society of Antiquarians, etc. He had several children, of whom only
two daughters survived,—Anne Florence, who married the sixth Earl
Cowper, and Mary, married to Captain Henry Vyner. Lord De Grey died in
1859, when the barony of Lucas devolved on his eldest daughter, and
his other titles on his nephew, now Marquis of Ripon. He was a man of
undoubted talent, and occupied himself in carrying out designs as an
architect, decorator, and landscape gardener. When he inherited the
houses of Wrest, in Bedfordshire, and the fine mansion in St. James’s
Square, on the death of his aunt, the Countess De Grey, he pulled down
the former, and rebuilt it, according to his own designs, in the style
of a French château. The pictures which adorn the walls were painted
expressly for him; the tapestry, which lends so rich a colouring to
the interior of Wrest, was woven under Lord De Grey’s immediate
direction in the ateliers of the Gobelins; while the rich gilding,
cornices, and ceilings were all executed under his supervision, and do
the greatest credit to his taste and ingenuity. He also supplemented
the plans, and enlarged the ornamentation of the already beautiful
gardens and pleasure-grounds which surround the house.

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_No. 19._

THE HONOURABLE PENISTON LAMB, ELDEST SON OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT
MELBOURNE.

_Red coat. Grey hat and feathers lying on the table. Caressing a dog._

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_No. 20._

THE HONOURABLE FREDERICK LAMB, AFTERWARDS FIRST LORD BEAUVALE AND
THIRD VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.

_Blue coat. White jabot._

BORN 1782, DIED 1853.

BY CHANDLER.

HE was the third son of the first Viscount Melbourne, by Elizabeth,
daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke. He entered the diplomatic service at
an early age, was successively attached to the British Legation at
Palermo, and the Embassy at Vienna, where in the year 1813 he became
Minister Plenipotentiary, _ad interim_, until the arrival of Lord
Stewart, afterwards Marquis of Londonderry. From September 1815 he was
Envoy to Munich until 1820, and two years later he was appointed Privy
Councillor, and subsequently G.C.B. (civil), in consideration of his
diplomatic services. He was successively Minister to Madrid and
Ambassador at Vienna, and retired on a pension in 1841, having
previously been elevated to the Peerage by the title of Baron
Beauvale. On the death of his brother William in 1848 (some time First
Lord of the Treasury), the Viscountcy of Melbourne devolved on him.
Lord Beauvale married at Vienna in 1841 the daughter of Count
Maltzahn, the Prussian Minister at the Austrian Court. He had no
children, and his large property was inherited by his only sister,
Viscountess Palmerston. He died at his country house, Brocket Hall, in
Hertfordshire, in 1853.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LADY COWPER’S SITTING-ROOM

AND

LORD COWPER’S STUDY.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LADY COWPER’S SITTING-ROOM.

-------

Francis Thomas de Grey Cowper, Earl Cowper, Viscount Fordwich, County
Kent, Baron Cowper of Wingham, Kent, in the Peerage of Great
Britain; Baron Butler of Moore Park, Herts, and Baron Lucas of
Crudwell, Wilts, in the Peerage of England; Baron of Dingwall,
County Ross, Peerage of Scotland; Privy Councillor, Knight of the
Garter, and Prince and Count of the Holy Roman Expire;
Lord-Lieutenant and Custos Rotulorum of Bedfordshire; Colonel of
the First Herts Rifle Volunteers, etc.

BORN 1834, SUCCEEDED TO THE EARLDOM IN 1856, AND TO THE BARONY OF
LUCAS IN 1880.

BY GEORGE F. WATTS, R.A.

THE eldest son of the sixth Earl Cowper by the eldest daughter and
coheiress of Earl De Grey. He was educated at Harrow and Christ
Church, where he was first class in Law and Modern History. From 1871
till 1873, Captain of the Gentlemen-at-Arms; from 1880 till 1882 he
was Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Having married in 1870 Mary Katrine
Compton, eldest daughter to the fourth Marquis of Northampton. In 1871
Lord Cowper established his claim to the baronies of Butler and
Dingwall, obtaining an Act of Parliament for the reversal of the
attainder of those titles. Few Englishmen can boast among their
ancestry names more celebrated on the pages of history,—the names of
men who, differing in class, country, and characteristics, have each
swayed the destiny of nations,—the Patriot Stadtholder of Holland, the
Royalist Viceroy of Ireland, and the Protector of England, the late
Lady Cowper being a lineal descendant of one of Cromwell’s daughters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LORD COWPER’S STUDY.

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_No. 1._

THE HONOURABLE SPENCER COWPER, DEAN OF DURHAM.

_Canonicals. White bands._

BORN 1712, DIED 1774.

HE was the second son of the Lord Chancellor Cowper by his second
wife, who mentions ‘our little Spencer,’ with great affection, in her
Diary, when sick of some infantine complaint. He married, in 1743,
Dorothy, daughter of Charles, second Viscount Townshend, by whom he
had no children. He was buried in the Cathedral at Durham.

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_No. 2._

THE HONOURABLE EDWARD SPENCER COWPER, M.P.

_Black coat. White cravat._

BORN 1779, DIED 1823.

THE third son of George, third Earl Cowper; born at Florence; came
over to England for his education with his two elder brothers. Resided
at Digswell, county Herts; represented Hertford in Parliament.
Married, in 1808, Catherine, youngest daughter of Thomas March
Philipps of Garendon Park, county Leicester. His widow married again
the Rev. D. C. A. Hamilton.

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_No 3._

JOHN CLAVERING, ESQUIRE OF CHOPWELL, COUNTY DURHAM.

_Crimson velvet coat, lined with blue silk. White cravat._

HE was brother to Mary, Countess Cowper, wife of the Chancellor, who
makes frequent mention of him in her Diary. At his death his nephew
Earl Cowper annexed the name of Clavering to his own patronymic, and
inherited the fortune and estates of his maternal uncle.

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_No. 4._

WILLIAM COWPER, AFTERWARDS FIRST EARL, AND LORD CHANCELLOR, AS A
YOUTH.

_Slashed sleeves. Brown mantle._

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_No. 5._

MARY CLAVERING, WIFE TO THE FIRST EARL, LORD CHANCELLOR COWPER.

_Yellow satin gown. Holding a book. Fountain in the background._

BORN 1635, DIED 1724.

BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

THE daughter of John Clavering, Esquire of Chopwell, county Durham, a
younger branch of an ancient Northumbrian family, all Jacobite in
their tendencies. Mary Clavering and William Cowper became acquainted
in consequence of some law transactions, on which she had occasion to
consult him at his chambers. Their marriage took place shortly after
he was appointed Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. ‘The wooing was not
long a-doing;’ but it was far from being calm or uninterrupted in its
progress; and though Lady Cowper’s Diary, from which most of our
materials are taken, does not commence till 1714, when she began her
Court life, yet she goes back several years to tell us how many
adverse influences were at work to prevent the union, which proved so
well assorted. How my Lord, being a widower when the Queen gave him
the Seals, it was no wonder (particularly as he was still young and
very handsome) that the young women laid out all their snares to catch
him. Lady Harriet de Vere especially marked him as her prey. This
lady, daughter of the last Earl of Oxford of that family, was very
poor, and of a damaged reputation. She had made several advances to my
Lord through her kinswoman, Mrs. Morley, but finding nothing come of
it, set a spy on his actions, and dogged his steps to find out the
cause of this coldness, which turned out to be no other than pretty
Mistress Mary Clavering; upon which a clandestine correspondence was
begun,—letters purporting to be from some great personage, and
threatening him with the ruin of his official prospects if he married
the lady in question. The first letter came the day before the
marriage; but as the union was kept a secret, the plotters still
continued to prosecute their schemes. ‘And so for months my Lord had a
letter of whole sheets every day to tell him I was a mean wretch and a
coquette, and the like, and how that one night the Lord Wharton (a
noted profligate) had said to my Lord Dorchester at the theatre, “Now
let us go and hear Molly Clavering sing the opera all over again.”
Which was a lie, for I never did play in any public company, but only
at home when visitors asked me.’ Some time afterwards the Lord Keeper
agreed to accompany one Mrs. Weedon (who said she had a fine lady to
recommend to him), in order to discover who his clandestine
correspondents were, and found his suspicions confirmed, for Lady
Harriet de Vere and Mistress Kirke were the very ladies who waylaid
and ogled him whenever he came out of chapel. Lady Harriet was full of
‘airs and graces,’ which were of no avail. She told Lord Cowper that
the Queen was very anxious she should be married, and had promised to
give her a dowry of £100,000, upon which the gentleman replied, on
that score he durst not presume to marry her, as he had not an estate
to make a settlement answerable to so large a fortune. At length they
pressed him so hard, he was forced to confess he was already married,
and that, in spite of all their abuse, he could only find one fault in
his wife, and that was that she played the harpsichord better than any
other woman in England. Now Lady Cowper says she never would have told
this story had she not thought it incumbent upon her to do so, when
the Duchess of St. Albans (Lady Harriet de Vere’s sister) recommended
Mrs. Kirke as a fit person to be bedchamber woman to the Princess of
Wales. For some reason, public or private, perhaps a combination, the
Lord Keeper kept his marriage a secret at first. In one of his letters
to his wife (with whom he kept up a brisk and affectionate
correspondence) he says: ‘December, 1706. I am going to visit my
mother, and shall begin to prepare her for what I hope she must know
in a little time.’ In another letter he gives an account of a cold,
dark journey, and how his only consolation was to think her journey
was shorter, and by day-light, so that he was not in fear for what he
was most concerned for.

In answer to her declaring she disliked grand speeches, he agrees, and
thinks the truest love and highest esteem are able to give undeniable
proofs of themselves; therefore he shall depend for ever on making
love to her that way. A little later he writes playfully about the
lady he has carried into the country (presumed to be a fat old
housekeeper); and hopes that the picture of his ‘dear life’ may soon
be finished, so as to console him in some measure in his next
banishment. He begs her not to imagine from anything that may look a
little trifling or cheerful in his letters, that his mind is
constantly in that tune: ‘’Tis only when I enjoy this half
conversation with you, who, I assure you, are the only satisfaction
that I propose to my hopes in this life.’ Again, he cannot go to rest
without expressing his concern and amazement at her collecting ‘so
much disquiet from so harmless a passage,—’tis my want of skill, if it
was not the language of a lover.’ He writes at great length to dispel
his dear love’s ‘melancholy fancy,’ and values no prospect in life as
the continuance of her favour, and the unspeakable satisfaction he
shall ever derive from doing her all the good in his power; and so on.

The Diary of Mary, Lady Cowper, was published from private documents
at Panshanger in 1864, and, though fragmentary, is very interesting.
It commences with the accession of George I.; and the writer tells us
she had been for some years past (apparently through the medium of
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough) in correspondence with Caroline of
Anspach, Princess of Wales, who had written to her most kindly. Lord
and Lady Cowper were both strongly in favour of the Hanoverian
succession, the wife having embraced her husband’s political opinions
in contradistinction to those of her father. On the arrival of the
Royal Family, Lady Cowper was kindly received, but the offer of her
services was evasively answered by the Princess, so much so that she
took it for granted ‘Her Royal Highness had had so many applications
on the subject that she could not take me into her service. I
therefore resolved not to add to the number of her tormentors, and
never mentioned the thing any more.’ She was confirmed in her opinion
when she heard that two ladies had been already appointed, and she
well knew ‘that the necessity of affairs often forces Princes to act
contrary to their inclinations.’ The coronation took place in October
1714, and thither Lady Cowper went with Lady Bristol (herself a
candidate for a post in the Princess’s household), who told her
companion she well knew that she (Lady Cowper) was to get an
appointment. The two ladies found the peeresses’ places so full that
they had to seek accommodation elsewhere, and Lady Cowper settled
herself next the pulpit stairs, when Lady Northampton and Lady
Nottingham came hand in hand; and the latter ‘took my place from me,
and I was forced to mount the pulpit stairs. I thought this rude; but
her ill-breeding got me the best place in the Abbey, for I saw all the
ceremony, which few besides did, and never was so affected with joy in
my life.’ Here follows an amusing account of how Lady Nottingham broke
from her place, and kneeled down in front, which nobody else did,
facing the King, and repeating the Litany. ‘Everybody stared, and
thought she had overdone the High Church part. The Lords over against
me, seeing me thus mounted, said to my Lord “that they hoped I would
preach,” upon which he answered “that he believed I had zeal enough
for it,” whereupon Lord Nottingham made some malicious remark, said
with such an air, that, joined with what Lady Nottingham had done that
day, and some other little passages that had happened, opened my eyes,
and showed me how that family maligned me.’ She takes occasion to
mention that the ladies not walking in procession had no gold medals.
Lady Dorchester stood next to her—Catherine Sedley, whom James II.
made a peeress, and who was reported to have said, ‘I wonder for what
quality the King chooses his mistresses; we are none of us handsome,
and if we have wit, he has not enough to find it out.’[4] And when the
Archbishop went round asking the consent of the people, she turned and
said: ‘Does the old fool think that anybody here will say no to his
question, where there are so many drawn swords?’

Footnote 4:

Charles II. said his brother’s mistresses were imposed upon him by
his confessor as a penance.

The Princess asked Lady Cowper if Lady Essex Robartes had delivered a
message, and, being answered in the negative, ‘Her Royal Highness went
on to tell me I had made a conquest, and seeing me blush, continued,
“It is M. Bernstorff, who never was in love in his life before, and it
is so considerable a conquest that you ought to be proud of it; and I,
to please him, have ordered him to make you a compliment from me.”’

Baron Bernstorff was indeed a good friend to have at Court, being at
that time German Minister and prime favourite of George I., who
consulted him on every appointment of every kind. He waited on Lady
Cowper the same evening, and told her she was appointed ‘Dame du
Palais,’ and was to kiss hands next day.

A friendship was formed, which withstood many a change and chance, and
more than one misunderstanding. On the Baron taking leave, the lady
intrusted him with her lord’s treatise, _An Impartial View of the
State of Parties_, which she herself had translated into French, and
transcribed for his Majesty’s perusal, who was no English scholar.
‘Great discussion whether the Princess, on going into the city, was to
kiss the Lady Mayoress (and quoting of precedents); but as her late
Majesty had not done so, it was arranged neither should the Princess.’
The new Lady-in-Waiting was in attendance when Her Royal Highness went
to the Lord Mayor’s Show. ‘Poor Lady Humphrys made a sad figure in her
black velvet, bawling to her page to hold up her train, being loath to
lose the privilege of her Mayoralty. But the greatest jest of all was
that the King and Prince had been told that the Lord Mayor had
borrowed her for that day only. I had much ado to convince them of the
contrary, though he by marriage is a sort of relation of my Lord’s
first wife.’ Query, was that a sequiter? ‘They agreed’ (Lady Cowper is
quite right to record any occasion on which the King and his son were
of the same mind) ‘that if he had borrowed a wife, it would have been
a different one from what she was.’

_October 30th_ (Diary).—‘The Prince’s birthday: the Court splendid;
the ball opened by him and the Princess. She danced in slippers
(heelless shoes) very well; but he better than any one.’

Lord and Lady Cowper, from their relative positions, had often to keep
company that cannot have been very palatable to so well-conducted a
pair. ‘Supped at the Lord Chamberlain’s (the Duke of Shrewsbury); Lord
and Lady Wharton and Madame Kielmansegge to wait on the King. Another
evening; I was mightily amused; but I could not but feel uneasy at
some words I overheard the Duchess of Bolton say in French, which led
me to believe the two foreign ladies were no better than they should
be.’ This remark alludes to Madame Kielmansegge, the daughter of the
Countess Platen (who had been mistress to the Elector, George I.’s
father), and wife of General Kielmansegge, after whose death she was
created Countess of Darlington by the King. Horace Walpole paints a
frightful picture of ‘the Ogress,’ whose appearance terrified him when
a boy. The Duchess of Shrewsbury was an Italian lady, of wit and
talent, whom Lady Cowper found it impossible to dislike as much as her
lord, for she was very entertaining, though she would sometimes exceed
the bounds of decency. Many members of the Princess’s own household
were themselves of very doubtful reputation, and we find the name of
Mademoiselle de Schulenberg of frequent recurrence in the Diary, a
lady who had been maid of honour to the Electress Sophia, the King’s
mother, and was afterwards created Duchess of Munster and Duchess of
Kendal.

_November 8th_ (Diary).—‘My birthday [she was twenty-nine]. God grant
that the rest of my life may be passed according to his will, and in
his service.’ High play was the order of the day at both Courts, and
the Princess and her ladies sat down every night to stake more than
they possessed, while the King was often very angry with those who
would not gamble. ‘I played at basset as low as I could, for which I
was rallied; but I told my mistress I only played out of duty, and
nobody could think ill of me if, for the sake of my four children, I
desired to save.’

From numerous entries in the Diary, it would appear that Lady Cowper
was averse to spreading slanderous reports, which were daily poured
into her ear, from party feeling, respecting many ladies of whom she
had no reason to think ill; but the quarrels and cabals at Court were
endless, and daily increasing; and she was sometimes drawn into a
dispute from feelings of just indignation, such as when my Lady
Nottingham accused Dr. Clarke (the famous controversialist, whom
Voltaire called _un moulin à raisonnement_) of being a heretic. But on
being pressed to quote the passage on which she founded so heavy a
charge, her ladyship threw up her head and replied, she never had, nor
did she ever intend, to look into his writings. Then said Lady Cowper,
‘What, madam! do you undertake to condemn anybody as a heretic, or to
decide upon a controversy, without knowing what it is they maintain or
believe? I would not venture to do so for all the world. All this
happened before the Princess, and was not likely to advance Lady
Nottingham’s wish to be governess to the young Princesses.’ Taking
leave of her Royal mistress at the end of her week of waiting, she
says: ‘I am so charmed with her good qualities, that I feel I never
can do enough for her. I am come to Court with the fixed determination
never to tell a lie, and she places more confidence in what I say than
in any one else on that account.’ This was in the first year of Lady
Cowper’s service. Unfortunately her enthusiasm in this quarter was
destined to be modified. It was evidently always a pleasure to her to
bring the name of any one in whom she was interested before the Royal
notice. She told the Prince of Wales that she never failed to drink
his health at dinner, ‘which made him smile and say, He did not wonder
at the rude health he had enjoyed since he came to England; but I told
him I and my children had constantly pledged him before his arrival,
by the name of “Young Hanover, Brave!” which was the title Mr.
Congreve (the poet) had given him in a ballad. The Prince, however,
was not learned in English literature, and asked who Mr. Congreve was,
which gave me an opportunity of saying all the good of him that he
deserved.’ She also bestirred herself to get places under Government
for her relations, who were for the most part very ungrateful; so much
so, that she could not help answering rather pettishly, ‘that the next
time they might get places for themselves, for I would meddle no
more.’ And her lord was so angry with them, he was for depriving the
offender of a commissionership he had himself bestowed at Lady
Cowper’s instigation; ‘but I soothed him, and told him after all I did
them good for conscience’ sake.’ The Lady-in-Waiting and her Royal
mistress had many a laugh together in these early days over some of
the eccentricities of Court life. Such, for instance, as when Madame
Kielmansegge came to complain to the Princess that the Prince had said
she had a very bad reputation at Hanover. The Princess did not think
it likely—the Prince seldom said such things; but Madame cried, and
declared people despised her in consequence, and she drew from her
pocket a certificate, written and signed by her husband, General
Kielmansegge, to say she was a faithful wife, and he had never had any
reason to suspect her. The Princess smiled, and said she did not doubt
it, but that it was a very bad reputation that wanted such a
supporter. Another specimen was Madame Tron, the Venetian
ambassadress, ‘who says, now she is come into a free country, she will
live and go about like other people. But the Italian husband is more
jealous than the German, and often beats his wife, which she is grown
used to, and does not care about, unless he spoils her beauty. So she
goes by the name of “La Beauté, sans Souci.” But she has been heard to
exclaim, when he is chastising her, with a very Italian accent, “Oh
prenez garde à mon visage!”’ ‘Lady Essex Robartes (daughter of Lord
Nottingham) is just beginning her long journey to Cornwall, which she
does with great fear.’

We cannot refrain from quoting Lady Cowper on the drama, when the
Princess consulted her respecting the propriety of being present at
the representation of ‘The Wanton Wife,’ or, as it was afterwards
called, ‘The Amorous Widow,’ written by Betterton,—the Duchess of
Roxburghe having given her opinion that nobody could see it with a
good reputation. ‘I had seen it once, and few I believe had seen it so
seldom; but it used to be a favourite play, and often bespoke by the
ladies. I went with my mistress, who said she liked it as well as any
play she had ever seen; and it certainly _is not more obscene than all
comedies are_. It were to be wished our stage were chaster, and I
hope, now it is under Mr. Steele’s direction, that it will mend;’ from
which observation we may conclude that, at least in the particular of
morals, our English stage has not deteriorated. It was evident the
Lady-in-Waiting’s influence was high at this moment, since the Duchess
of Roxburghe begged her to try and prevent Sir Henry St. John from
being made a peer. It was he of whom the anecdote is told, that when
his son was created Lord Bolingbroke, he said to him: ‘Ah, Harry, I
always thought you would be hanged, and now I find you will be
beheaded.’

Lady Cowper was apparently overpowered not only with solicitations to
procure places for friends and acquaintances, but sometimes intrusted
by her husband with messages of public importance to the Prince and
Princess, or that still greater personage, Baron Bernstorff; and she
seems to have carried out her mission with much discretion on more
than one occasion, as we before remarked. The fair lady and her
friend, the German baron, came to high words. He told her sharply one
day, ‘“My Lord est beaucoup trop vif, et vous êtes beaucoup trop vive
de votre côté. Les ministres se plaignent beaucoup de my Lord Cowper.
Ils disent qu’il leur reproche trop souvent, les fautes qu’ils ont pu
commettre.” The wife replied, “Notre seul but est de bien servir de
roi.” He repeated his words, and then said with great violence,
“Croyez moi, vous êtes trop vifs, tous les deux, cela ne vaut rien,
cela tourne en ruine.” I believe it was the first time that an English
lady, who had bread to put into her mouth, had been so treated. I knew
whence all this storm came; and plainly saw our enemies had got the
better.’

This was the time to which we have alluded in the notice of the Lord
Chancellor. Now, although more especially at this time Lady Cowper was
very desirous that her husband should retain office, for she ‘would
rather live with him in a garret up three pair of stairs, than see him
suffer,’ yet she always answered with spirit when the subject of his
resignation was discussed. ‘Mrs. Clayton came in and told me it was
reported that Lord Cowper was going to lay down. I answered, They say
he is to be turned out, and they need not have given themselves the
trouble; if they had but hinted to my Lord they were weary of him, he
would have laid down. They know he has done it already, which is more
than ever will be said of them.’ Though a courtier in the literal
sense of the word, Lady Cowper disdained to trim and truckle, as most
of her colleagues did.

She had carried herself towards the mighty baron with distant dignity,
since the passage of arms to which we have alluded. He made his niece,
Mademoiselle Schütz, his ambassador, to complain of having been
treated distantly and coldly, never being allowed to see Lady Cowper
alone of late, and so forth. When permitted to renew his visit, he
expostulated with her on her believing that he was willing to oust her
husband; and upon her saying she understood it was so destined by the
Ministry, the baron made a world of asseverations of how he was
incapable of injuring the Lord Chancellor, that the King had the
greatest possible kindness for him, and that none could take his place
from him but God alone, and so forth. Upon which Lady Cowper tossed
her head and observed, ‘One must be fond of a place before you fear to
lose it, and it was too painful a place to be fond of.’ Then the baron
retorted that Lord Cowper was peevish and difficult, and so thought
the King, and he begged her ladyship would use her best arguments to
soften and make him more compliable;—which she certainly did, though
she did not let Bernstorff into the secret, for, at least at this time
of day, she was most unwilling to see her husband vacate the Woolsack.

The Mademoiselle Schütz to whom an allusion has been made, is thus
described: ‘She was a pretty woman, and had good qualities, but was
withal so assuming that she was mightily hated at Court. The Prince
disliked her most especially, but I saw her very often.’ Too often, as
it proved in the sequel, for the Fraülein made herself most obnoxious
after a bit, coming at all hours, when not wanted, to the Cowpers’
house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and ‘writing at every turn, which is
very troublesome. I wish she had as many occupations as I have. I had
a letter from her to offer to come and stay with me; I thank her for
nothing. I had enough of her impertinence last night.’ Another time
she insists on the loan of a costly pearl necklace, which the
Lady-in-Waiting wanted to wear herself (not being overstocked with
jewels), at the birthday; now it is a ‘lace head’ to go to Court in;
now she wishes for a set of gold ribbons as a gift. ‘Commend me to a
modest assurance. It lifts one out of many a pinch, I find. Lady
William Powlett complained of her too, “she is very importunate, and
always on the spunge.” I fell a-laughing, and said, “I was very glad
it had come to anybody’s share besides mine.”

On the 5th of December in this year (1715), the Diary records the
entrance into London of the Jacobite prisoners who had been taken at
the battle of Preston,—their arms tied, and their horses led by
soldiers. The mob insulted them, carrying a warming-pan before them in
ridicule of the Pretender, and saying many spiteful things, which some
of the prisoners returned with spirit. ‘The chief of my father’s
family was among them, Clavering of Callalee, who is above seventy
years old. I did not see them come into town, nor let any of my
children do so. I thought it would be insulting to several relations I
had there, though almost everybody else went to see them. I forgot to
say M. Bernstorff made me a strange offer, through his niece, to let
my cousin Tom Forster escape on the road, if I had a mind to it.’ This
gentleman was knight of the shire for Northumberland, and was a
general in the Jacobites’ army; he had proclaimed the Pretender at
Warkworth. He was imprisoned in Newgate, but eventually escaped.

Lord Widdrington, who was impeached at the same time as Lord
Derwentwater, was also a connection of hers; and she gives this as a
reason she could not go to the State trials, although her Lord
presided as Lord High Steward, an appointment which vexed her much.
She gives the order of procession, with many servants, and coaches,
one with six horses, Garter King at Arms, Usher of the Black Rod, etc.
etc. Lady Cowper did not seem to take the same delight in the
melancholy pageant as most of the fine world did, for she says, ‘I was
told it was customary to have fine liveries on such an occasion, but
had them all plain. I think it very wrong to make a parade on such an
occasion as putting to death one’s fellow-creatures. The Princess came
home much touched with compassion. What a pity that such cruelties
should be necessary! My Lord’s speech on pronouncing sentence was
commended by every one, but I esteem no one’s commendation like Dr.
Clarke’s, who says, “’tis superlatively good, and that it is not
possible to add or diminish one letter without hurting it.”’

Many entries in the Diary now speak of Lord Cowper’s continued
illness, and how he had again a mind to quit office. His wife, who in
spite of all the squabbles and ‘unpleasantness’ she describes, was
still in high favour with the Prince and Princess, and was not
insensible to the splendour and amusements of a Court life, loved her
Lord above all such considerations, and told him she ‘would never
oppose anything he had a mind to do,’ and, ‘after arguing calmly on
the matter, I offered, if it would be any pleasure done him, to retire
with him into the country, and what was more, never to repine at doing
so, though it was the greatest sacrifice that could be made him. I
believe he will accept.’ But a little while after she says, ‘My Lord
is better, and not so much talk of retiring, though I laid it fairly
in his way.’

The troublesome Fraülein Schütz seemed to have chosen this time of
anxiety to be more importunate than ever about loans of jewels and
finery: ‘When she asked me for my diamonds, saying she had less
scruple in doing so because I look best in a state of nature, and
jewels do not become me! Commend me to the assurance of these
foreigners!’

On a similar occasion Lady Cowper makes some very moral reflections,
slightly tempered by a dash of pardonable vanity. After an excuse for
wearing an emerald necklace, which had been lent her lest she should
disoblige her friend, she meant also to wear her own pearls in her
hair, though she don’t care one brass farthing for making herself
fine, and hopes always to make it her study rather to adorn her mind
than to set off a vile body of dust and ashes!

The advice given to Mrs. Collingwood, the wife of one of the Jacobite
prisoners, must have shocked the feelings of so loving a wife as Mary
Cowper. Mr. Collingwood, a Northumberland gentleman, was under
sentence of death, when his wife wrote to an influential friend to
intercede in his behalf. Here is the answer: ‘I think you are mad when
you talk of saving your husband’s life. Don’t you know you will have
£500 a year jointure if he’s hanged, and not a groat if he’s saved?
Consider, and let me know. I shall do nothing till then.’ There was no
answer to the letter, and Collingwood was executed.

About this time great exertions were made to induce the King to
reprieve some (at least) of the prisoners, and Lady Cowper was
evidently instrumental in gaining that of Lord Carnwath, who would
otherwise have suffered with Lords Kenmure and Derwentwater. She gave
a letter from the imprisoned nobleman to the Princess, who wept on
reading it, and sent word in answer that if Lord Carnwath would
confess, she would give him her honour he should be saved, but that
was the only way. Now, though the King was not over partial to ‘cette
Diablesse de Princesse,’ as he often called her, yet the violent
language and opinions she sometimes held were not altogether without
their influence on the Royal mind. Lord Nithisdale escaped by the
connivance of his devoted wife, and Lord Carnwath was reprieved. ‘God
grant us peace to heal all our divisions, and to take away the rancour
that is among us.’ ‘Lord Nithisdale’s escape confirmed; I hope he’ll
get clear off; I never was better pleased at anything in my life, and
I believe everybody is the same.’

_March 1._—The Princess of Wales’s birthday. ‘I am ill, but must go to
wish her many years of health and happiness, which I unfeignedly do,
for she’s a most charming delightful friend as well as mistress.’ Her
Royal Highness said M. Bernstorff had been urging the Prince to agree
to Lord Cowper being made President of the Council, which the Prince
refused to do, unless assured that Lord Cowper wished it. ‘I said Lord
Cowper was ready to quit, if they found anybody better to put in his
room, but would never change that of which he could acquit himself
with honour, for that he could not perform at all.’

Party ran so high in this year (1716), that even a meteorological
phenomenon—‘a light so great that from my windows I could see people
walk across Lincoln’s Inn Fields though there was no moon’—was pressed
by Whigs and Tories into their interests,—the former saying it was
God’s judgment on the horrid rebellion, the latter that it was a mark
of vengeance on the Whigs for the late executions. Mr. Gibson, the
antiquary, says it has ever since been spoken of as ‘Lord
Derwentwater’s lights.’ Lady Cowper was coming home in her chair on
the night in question, and her bearers were so frightened that she was
forced to let her glass down and preach to them all the way to comfort
them. She observes that if anybody had overheard the dialogue they
could not have helped laughing.

Lady Cowper’s chairmen were apparently not very efficient altogether;
she twice complains of the shifts she was put to in consequence of
their drunkenness, and her having to come home in the first hackney
she could find. Another time she lost her servants altogether, and had
to borrow the Duchess of Shrewsbury’s chair. The bickerings and
altercations between the Court ladies were interminable, more
especially between the German and English; and no wonder, when the
Germans talked as one of their great ladies did, saying that ‘English
ladies did not look like women of quality, but pitiful and sneaking,
holding their heads down, and always seeming in a fright, whereas
foreigners hold up their heads and hold out their bosoms, and look
grand and stately;’ upon which Lady Deloraine replies, ‘We show our
quality, madam, by our birth and titles, not by sticking out our
bosoms.’

The Diary tells us that on May the 29th, those who disliked the
reigning family wore green boughs, and on June the 10th (the
Pretender’s birthday) white roses. Nothing now but cabal and intrigue,
petty Court jealousies, bitter hatred and enmity among the political
parties, the ins and the outs, and unseemly quarrels between the two
highest in rank in the country.

It was settled that the King was to go to Hanover for at least six
months, the question of the Regency during his absence being the worst
bone of contention of all. But we have treated this subject more at
large in the notice of Lord Cowper, who was constantly peacemaking and
pouring good counsel into the ears of the Prince of Wales.

Diary.—‘For my part, I thought it so absolute a necessity to the
public good to keep all things quiet, that I did heartily and
successfully endeavour to conceal everything that tended to disunion,
little thinking at the time it could ever be called a crime to keep
things quiet.’

It was finally settled that the King was to go to Hanover, to which
His Majesty looked forward with pleasure, greatly alloyed by the
necessity of making his son Regent. Always jealous of him, he could
not bear the idea of the Prince of Wales playing at King. When it was
arranged that the Prince should be appointed to the Regency during His
Majesty’s absence, there were as many restrictions put upon him as
possible. In this summer (1716) the Court went to reside, with much
splendour, at Hampton Court Palace, and the Diary leads us to believe
there was some little enjoyment to be derived from that comparative
retirement. But even here the spirit of unrest followed them: Lord
Townshend, who came down frequently on public business, treated the
Princess with so little respect, and paid such court to Mrs. Howard
(to curry favour with the Prince) that both Lord and Lady Cowper
expostulated with him, so effectually indeed as to prevail on the
Minister to change his demeanour, ‘which brought the Princess into
perfect tranquillity.’ Not for long, however, for when Lord Sunderland
arrived to take leave, before joining the King at Hanover, he fell out
with the Princess walking in the long gallery which looks on the
gardens; and he talked so loud that Her Royal Highness desired him to
speak lower, for the people in the garden would overhear him. ‘Let
them hear,’ cries my Lord. The Princess answered, ‘Well, if you have a
mind, let ‘em, only you shall walk next to the window, for in the
humour we are both in, one of us must jump out, and I am resolved it
sha’n’t be me.’ But for such stormy interludes, and the constant
disquietude which the presence of Mrs. Howard (nor of her alone), must
have occasioned the Princess, the time passed pleasantly enough, in
Wolsey’s picturesque old palace, so lately increased in magnitude by
the additions of Sir Christopher Wren. The gardens and pleasances too
had been much improved and enlarged, for Queen Mary’s delectation, and
the Princess, who was a great walker, spent many hours under the leafy
shades of the lime grove, and wandering among the dark yews and
evergreens.

Diary.—‘The Prince and Princess dined every day in public in Her Royal
Highness’s apartments. The Lady-in-Waiting served at table, but my
ill-health prevented me doing that service. In the afternoon my Royal
mistress saw company, and read or writ till evening, when she walked
in the garden for two or three hours together, and would go to the
pavilion at the end of the bowling-green (which runs parallel with the
river) to play there, but after the Countess of Buckenburgh fell and
put her foot out, the Princess went there no more, but played in the
green gallery. The Duchess of Monmouth was often with us, and the
Princess loved her mightily, and, certainly, no woman of her years
ever deserved it so well. She had all the fire and life of youth, and
it was marvellous to see that the many afflictions she had suffered
had not touched her wit and good-nature, but at upwards of threescore
she had both in their full perfection.’ We cannot resist inserting
this generous testimony to one who was distinguished by Royal favour
at a time when petty jealousies and intense rivalry were at their
height. Their Royal Highnesses left Hampton Court with part of their
retinue by water, and as they glided along in a Royal barge, Lady
Cowper thought ‘nothing in the world could be pleasanter than the
passage, or give one a better idea of the richness and happiness of
the kingdom.’ A break now occurs in the Diary, which began 1714, and
which we have followed up to October 1716. That portion which
concerned the next four years is not forthcoming, and the editor gives
us a clue to the reason. In a memorandum by the Chancellor’s daughter,
Lady Sarah, she copies a letter written to the postmaster at Hertford:
‘It is reported that at the time of the trial of the Bishop of
Rochester Lord Cowper offered to be bail for him, which was so
resented by a certain person of distinction that he moved for a
warrant to search his Lordship’s house. News of this was sent to Lady
Cowper, and though the report was to be despised, yet my mother had so
many hints and intimations sent her by different people of a design to
attack my father and try to involve his character in the examination
then on foot, relating to Layer’s plot, that she took fright for some
papers she had drawn up by way of diary, also some letters belonging
to the Prince and Princess, which she had in her hands, relating to
the quarrel in the Royal Family, that, not being able to place them in
safety, in a hurry she burned such as she thought likely to do most
harm.’ This is a reasonable explanation of the disappearance of the
records of 1717, 1718,and 1719. In 1718 Lord Cowper resigned office,
to the great regret of all well-thinking persons of whatever party,
the details of which will be found in the Chancellor’s life. The feuds
in the Royal Family had augmented in frequency and violence during
these four years, and Lady Cowper resumes her narrative at a time when
the scandal of these quarrels was so great as to render a
reconciliation imperative on public grounds. Lord Cowper himself had
lost much of the King’s favour by his adherence to the Prince, and the
fair Lady-in-Waiting herself had to undergo many cold looks, and, what
must have been more trying to such a steadfast nature as hers, the
caprice and wayward moods of the mistress she still loved and served
most loyally. New influences were at work, and new favourites on the
scene. As to the reconciliation, though made a subject of public
rejoicing, it was hollow enough. The King lost few opportunities of
slighting his son and daughter-in-law, and he plagued her much,
particularly on the vexed question of the custody of her children, who
had been removed from her care. But we are anticipating. The Diary
re-opens with a visit from Mr. Secretary Walpole (afterwards Sir
Robert) to the Princess of Wales, with offers of reconciliation from
the King, April 9, 1720. The Princess referred him to Lord Cowper, who
lost no time in hastening to the Royal presence to discuss the matter.

The conditions were most unpalatable to the Prince and Princess, who
were ‘in great anguish.’ They both asked the advice of Lord and Lady
Cowper, and took that of Mr. Secretary Walpole. Among many leading men
of the day, whom the Lady-in-Waiting had no reason to love, were that
Minister and Lord Townshend in particular, and she did not approve of
Walpole’s confession to my Lord, that he did almost everything through
the medium of the Duchess of Kendal, who was ‘virtually Queen of
England.’ Lady Cowper also complains that her mistress has been taught
to suspect her all the winter, and that the Prince scarcely looks at
her, and she marvels how Walpole has got such a hold of them that they
only see through his eyes, and no longer recognise their real friends.
Would not the leafy shades of Cole Green form a pleasant contrast to
this vortex of antagonism?—so at least thought Lord Cowper, ‘who is
sick of the whole affair, and goes out of town to hear no more of it,
and it is more than odds, if he is not pleased with his treatment,
that he will carry me with him.’