Of the Duchess of Newcastle’s writings we have already seen a good deal, and the time has now arrived for introducing her in person. Perhaps it may be best to begin by quoting Cibber’s statement[124] that the future “Duchess herself in a book entitled ‘Nature’s Pictures, Drawn by Fancy’s Pencil to the Life,’ has celebrated both the exquisite beauty of her person and the rare endowments of her mind”. False modesty is a vice from which the Duchess was perfectly free.

Margaret Lucas was a daughter of Sir Thomas Lucas, of whom she says: “though my father was not a peer of the realm, yet there were few peers who had much greater estates, or lived more noble therewith”. She does not mention the fact that her great-grandfather had been town-clerk of Colchester.[125] Her two brothers, Sir John, who was created Lord Lucas by Charles I in 1644, and Sir Charles, were both distinguished cavaliers; and she mentions another brother, Sir Thomas, of whom Burke—not the Duchess—says he “was illegitimate, having been born prior to the marriage of his parents”. For this trifling confusion of dates, the excellent Lady Lucas endeavoured to atone by the prudishness upon which she insisted in her children. The Duchess tells us that—

“She was of a grave Behaviour, and had such a Majestic Grandeur, as it were continually hung about her, that it would strike a kind of an awe to the beholders, and command respect from the rudest.... She had a well favoured loveliness in her face, a pleasing sweetness in her countenance, and a well-temper’d complexion, as neither too red nor too pale.... Also she was an affectionate Mother, breeding her children with a most industrious care, and tender love, and having eight children, three sons and five daughters, there was not any one crooked, or any ways deformed, neither were they dwarfish, or of a Giant-like stature, but every ways proportionable; likewise well featured, cleer complexions, brown haires, but some lighter than others, sound teeth, sweet breaths, plain speeches, tunable voices, I mean not so much to sing as in speaking, as not stuttering, nor wharling in the throat, or speaking through the nose, or hoarsely, unless they had a cold, or squeakingly, which impediments many have; neither were their voices of too low a strain, or too high.” Negatively, a truly remarkable family!

Of her father the Duchess says: “He unfortunately killed one Mr. Brooks in a single Duel; for my father by the Laws of Honour could do no less than call him to the field, to question him for an injury he did him, where their Swords were to dispute, and one or both of their lives to decide the argument, wherein my Father had the better; and though my Father by Honour challenged him, with Valour fought him, and in Justice killed him, yet he suffered more than any Person of Quality usually doth in cases of Honour; for though the Laws be rigorous, yet the present Princes most commonly are gratious in those misfortunes, especially to the injured. But my Father found it not, for his exile was from the time of his misfortunes to Queen Elizabeth’s death; for the Lord Cobham being then a great man with Queen Elizabeth, and this Gentleman, Mr. Brooks, a kind of a Favourite, and as I take it Brother to the then L. Cobham, which made Queen Elizabeth so severe, not to pardon him: but King James of blessed memory graciously gave him his Pardon, and leave to return home to his Native Country.”

The description of the education and family life of herself and her sisters, given by the Duchess, is not altogether uninteresting.

“As for tutors, although we had for all sorts of vertues, as singing, dancing, playing on musick, reading, writing, working, and the like, yet we were not kept strictly thereto, they were rather for formality than benefit, for my Mother cared not so much for our dancing and fidling, singing and prating of severall languages, as that we should be bred virtuously, modestly, civilly, honourably, and on honest principles.”

As to the habits of this edifying family, she says:—

“But to rehearse their Recreations. Their customs were in Winter time to go sometimes to Plays, or to ride in their Coaches about the Streets to see the concourse and recourse of People; and in the Spring time to visit the Spring garden, Hide park, and the like places; and sometimes they would have Musick; and sup in Barges upon the Water; these harmless recreations they would pass their time away with; for I observed, they did seldom make Visits, nor never went abroad with Strangers in their Company, but onely themselves in a Flock together agreeing so well, that there seemed but one Minde amongst them: And not onely my own Brothers and Sisters agreed so, but my Brothers and Sisters in law, and their Children, although but young, had the like agreeable natures, and affectionable dispositions; for to my best remembrance I do not know that ever they did fall out, or had any angry or unkind disputes. Likewise, I did observe, that my Sisters were so far from mingling themselves with any other Company, that they had no familiar conversation or intimate acquaintance with the Families to which each other were linkt to by Marriage, the Family of the one being as great Strangers to the rest of my brothers and Sisters, as the Family of the other.”

How far such an education and such surroundings would be conducive to breadth of mind, sociability, and success in the world, the reader must judge for himself.

Although she had been exceedingly anxious to become a Maid of Honour, Margaret does not appear to have enjoyed the two years which she spent in that capacity. She says: “I had heard that the world was apt to lay aspersions even on the innocent, for which I durst neither look up with my eyes, nor speak, nor be any way sociable, insomuch as I was thought a Natural Fool”. Being “fearfull and bashfull, I neither heeded what was said or practic’d, but just what belong’d to my loyal duty, and my own honest reputation; and, indeed, I was so afraid to dishonour my Friends and Family by my indiscreet actions, that I rather chose to be accounted a Fool, then to be thought rude or wanton; in truth, my bashfulness and fears made me repent my going from home to see the World abroad”.

Ballard says:[126] “Her person was very graceful, her temper naturally reserved and shy, and she seldom said much in company, especially among strangers”. She herself confesses and deplores her own bashfulness; but she declares it to be a better thing than rudeness on the ground that “a rude nature is worse than a brute nature, by so much more as man is better than beast, but those that are of civil natures and gentle dispositions, are as much nearer to celestiall creatures, as those that are of rude or cruell are to Devils”.

This particular “celestiall creature” favours us with some more details of her own character. “I am gratefull, for I never received a curtesie but I am impatient, and troubled untill I can return it; also I am Chaste, both by Nature and Education, insomuch as I do abhorre an unchast thought; likewise I am seldom angry,” yet “when I am angry, I am very angry, but yet it is soon over, and I am easily pacified, if it be not such an injury as may create a hate”;—a highly significant reservation—“neither am I apt to be exceptious or jealous; but if I have the lest symptome of this passion, I declare it to those it concerns, for I never let it ly smothering in my breast to breed a malignant disease in the minde.” “I am neither spitefull, envious nor malicious; I repine not at the gifts that Nature or Fortune bestows upon others.” “My God,” she would almost seem to have said, “I thank Thee that I am not as other women are.”

Newcastle had heard a good deal of Margaret Lucas before he met her. He had been a friend and a patron of her brother, whom Charles I had made a peer. Lord Lucas had been in Newcastle’s army, and when Newcastle had asked him in what manner he could best serve him, Lucas had replied that he had no desires on his own account, being ready to suffer exile or death in the royal cause; but that he was anxious about his sister Margaret, at Queen Henrietta’s little Court in Paris, as her beauty exposed her to danger, and, owing to his losses through the civil war, he had no dowry to bestow upon her. At the same time he expatiated upon her character and virtues to such an extent as to arouse the curiosity of Newcastle.[127]

With the paragon of perfection self-described in the preceding pages, the exiled Newcastle fell in love. The lady herself shall describe what happened:—

“My Lord ... was pleased to take some particular notice of me, and express more than an ordinary affection for me; insomuch that he resolved to chuse me for his Second Wife; for he, having but two Sons, purposed to marry me, a young Woman that might prove fruitful to him and encrease his Posterity by a Masculine-Offspring. Nay, He was so desirous of Male-Issue, that I have heard him say, He cared not (so God would be pleased to give him many Sons) although they came to be persons of the meanest Fortunes; but God (it seems) had ordered it otherwise, and frustrated his Designs”—here the Duchess becomes very plain-spoken—“which yet did never lessen his Love and Affection for me.”

Several of Margaret Lucas’s love-letters are in existence at Welbeck Abbey.[128] Let us look at a few of them.

“Margaret Lucas to the Marquis of Newcastle.

From this it is evident that Newcastle’s friends had been trying to dissuade him from the marriage, and that Margaret’s friends were also trying to prevent it. It is not surprising that they should have done so. Newcastle was then living entirely on credit and was borrowing wherever he could. However agreeable a man’s conversation may be, if it ends in his saying, “By the way, I wonder whether you would kindly lend me £ ... for a few days,” he is not likely to be very popular.

As Margaret writes that the Queen would take it ill unless informed before Margaret “resolved,” the engagement was probably not yet definitely made. In her next letter Margaret begins to fear that she may have been immodestly forward in her flirtations with Newcastle. Yet, under cover of ostentatious bashfulness, she takes the opportunity of asking Newcastle to propose his suit to the Queen.

“The Same to (the Same).

In another letter she says: “Saint Germains is a place of much slander, and thinks I send too often to you”. From the next letter it would seem that Newcastle had been a little jealous of Porter; but no courtship would be complete without a lover’s quarrel!

“I hope you are not angry for my advice about Saint Germans. I gave it simply for the best. As for Mr. Porter he was a stranger to me, for before I came to France I never saw him or at least knew him to be Mr. Porter or my Lord Newcastle’s friend. I never speak to any man before they address themselves to me nor look so much in their face as to invite their discourse, and I hope I never was uncivil to any person of whatsoever degree; but to-morrow the Queen comes to Paris and then I hope to justify myself.”

In one letter she seems annoyed at hearing that Newcastle had announced the engagement before it was quite settled:—

“It was said to me you had declared your marriage to Lord Jermyn. I answered it was more than I could do.”

In an earlier chapter, Sir Philip Warwick told us that Newcastle “had the misfortune to have somewhat of the poet in him”. This misfortune impelled him to write poems to Margaret, who replied:—

“Your verses are more like you than your picture, though it resembles you very well”.

From a later letter, she would seem to have been at St. Germains and Newcastle in Paris, and that she feared to go with the Queen to Paris lest she should be supposed to be doing so with the object of flirting with Newcastle:—

“I hear the Queen comes to Paris next week to the solemnities of Princess Mary’s marriage, and I am in a dispute whether I should come with her if I can get leave to stay. My reason is because I think it will stop their discourse of us when they see I do not come. My Lord let your eye limit your poetry.” Possibly Newcastle’s verses may have begun to savour too strongly of the Song of Solomon. The question of the poems crops up again in a later letter, and they would seem to have been the cause of a slight misunderstanding:—

“I am sorry you should bid me keep the verses you sent me, for it looks as though you thought I had flung away those you sent before.”

But perhaps Newcastle may only have been anxious that his verses should be carefully preserved, in order that, at some future date, he might publish them in a book of his “Collected Poems”. Poets are not totally destitute of eyes to business. Anyhow, no maker of verses would like to think that they had been “flung away”. The next letter hints at more troubled waters:—

“I never said any such thing as you mentioned in your letter about your picture, nor even showed it to a creature before yesterday when I gave it to mend; but I find such enemies that whatever is for my disadvantage, though it have but a semblance of truth, is declared.

“It is not usual to give the Queen gloves or anything else, but if you please I will give them to her.”

Presently comes another letter which looks as if, even then, all was not quite smooth between the lovers.

“I am sorry you have metamorphosed my letter and made that masculine which was efemenat. My ambition is to be thought a modest woman, and to leave the title of a gallant man to you.”

Five affectionate letters follow, but they contain nothing of world-wide interest. The last states Margaret’s intention of going to Paris, and in a sixth she says:—

“There is nothing will please me more than to be where you are, and I begin to admire Paris because you are in it.”

Both Newcastle and Margaret were afraid of the Queen, for in the next letter she says:—

“I know not what counsel to give concerning the Queen, but I fear she will take it ill if she be not made acquainted with our intentions. If you please to write a letter to her and send it to me, I will deliver it the day you send for me. I think it no policy to displease the Queen, for though she will do us no good she may do us harm. I send my maid about some business, and she and Lady Brown”—the wife of the English Ambassador—“shall agree about the other thing you spoke of.

“Pray consider that I have enemies.”

From the following letter it would appear that the Queen had been informed of the proposed marriage and that she was very angry. Obviously Margaret was expecting a wigging:—

“I have not been with the Queen yet. I hear she would have me acknowledge myself in a fault and she not to be in any, but it will be hard for me to accuse myself and to make myself guilty of a fault when I am innocent, but if it be the duty of a servant to obey all the commands of a mistress though it be against myself I will do it, if it be but to bring myself to the use of obedience against I am a wife. For the hindrance of our marriage I hope it will not be in their power. I am sure they cannot hinder me from loving.”

From the next missive it is clear that there had been an encounter between the Queen and Margaret and that a truce had been patched up merely for appearance’ sake. It is also pretty evident that the Queen would have stopped the marriage altogether if she had had the power to do so.

“I hope the Queen and I are friends. She saith she will seem so at least, but I find if it had been in her power she would have crossed us. I heard not of the letter, but she said to me that she had it in writing that I prayed you not to make her acquainted with our designs. My Lord since our affections are published, it will not be for our honours to delay our marriage. The Queen intends to come on Monday. I will wait on her to Paris and then I am at your service.”

In another letter she says:—

“I hope the Queen and I shall be very good friends again, and may be the better for the differences we have had. It was reported here that you would be with us before we could be with you, and be assured I will bring none to our wedding but those you please. I find to satisfy the opinion that we are not married already we must be married by one of the priests here, of which I think Cousens is the fittest. We shall not come till Monday.”

The marriage received the approval of Margaret’s mother; for she wrote:—[129]

“Elizabeth, Lady Lucas, to the Earl of Newcastle.

Margaret thus analyses her love for Newcastle:—

“He was the onely Person I ever was in love with;

Neither was I ashamed to own it, but gloried therein, for it was not Amorous Love, I never was infected therewith, it is a Disease, or a Passion, or both, I only know by relation, not by experience; neither could Title, Wealth, Power, or Person entice me to love; but my love was honest and honourable, being placed upon Merit, which Affection joy’d at the fame of his Worth, pleas’d with delight in his Wit, proud of the respects he used to me, and triumphing in the affections he profest for me.”

This sounds rather an arctic sort of love; but, be that as it may, the wedding took place, and, according to Evelyn, in the chapel of Evelyn’s father-in-law, Sir Richard Brown, the English Ambassador.

Although married to one who had been among the wealthiest of English noblemen, the bride found herself in poverty. Her husband was unable to obtain a penny from England; the Parliament had taken possession of his estates and he was living with money borrowed upon, what looked at that time, exceptionally bad security. The Duchess says that “the ordinary Use” was then “at Six in the Hundred,” i.e. that the usual interest on good securities was 6 per cent. Then what rate of interest were lenders in Holland and France likely to have charged an exile whose chance of ever regaining his property seemed very remote? The question summons up visions of something nearer sixty than “six in the hundred”.

The bride thus describes the financial position:—

“After My Lord was married, having no Estate or Means left him to maintain himself and his Family, he was necessitated to seek for Credit, and live upon the Courtesie of those that were pleased to Trust him; which although they did for somewhile, and shew’d themselves very civil to My Lord, yet they grew weary at length, insomuch that his Steward was forced one time to tell him, That he was not able to provide a Dinner for him, for his Creditors were resolved to trust him no longer. My Lord being always a great master of his Passions, was, at least shew’d himself not in any manner troubled at it, but in a pleasant humour told me, that I must of necessity pawn my Cloaths to make so much Money as would procure a Dinner. I answer’d That my Cloaths would be but of small value and therefore desired my Waiting-Maid to pawn some small toys, which I had formerly given her, which she willingly did.”

One cannot help admiring Newcastle for being so far “master of his Passions,” as to overcome any desire to pawn his own clothes in order to get a dinner, and for conceiving the happy idea of telling his wife to pawn hers. When he had fortified himself by eating the dinner provided by pawning the toys belonging to his wife’s maid, Newcastle paid his creditors a visit and, by “perswasive arguments,” induced them to lend him some more money, with which he got the toys out of pawn for his wife’s maid, and provided her with means to go to England with the object of endeavouring to obtain some money from his brother-in-law.

Soon afterwards, Newcastle had “proffers made him of rich matches in England for his two sons,” whom he dispatched there forthwith, “hoping by that means to provide for them and himself”—the italics are not in the original. Somehow these matches failed to come off; but at least one of his sons made a good marriage a little later.

It may seem that, when Newcastle himself married a girl who was not an heiress, he must have lost the match-making instincts which he had inherited from his grandmother; but in justice to his memory let it be remembered that no heiresses were then to be had at the impoverished Court of the English Queen in France; and that, as Margaret’s father had been a very wealthy man, in the case of a royal restoration it was just possible that there might yet be some useful pickings.