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 mother’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.
In 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, that 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.