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?’
[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.’