Melancholy, on the other hand, states that her life and surroundings, if subdued and retired, are tranquil and beautiful. It may be remembered that a few pages back the Duchess said that she herself was always addicted to “melancholy rather than mirth”.
I dwell in groves that gilt are with the sun; Sit on the banks by which clear waters run; In summers hot down in a shade I lie, My music is the buzzing of a fly; I walk in meadows where grows fresh green grass; In fields where corn is high I often pass; Walk up the hills, where round I prospects see, Some brushy woods, and some all champaigns be; Returning back, I in fresh pastures go, To hear how sheep do bleat, and cows do low; In winter cold, when nipping frosts come on, Then I do live in a small house alone.
One of the greatest admirers of the Duchess of Newcastle’s literary labours was Charles Lamb, who calls her, in _The Essays of Elia_,[171] “that princely woman, the thrice noble Margaret Newcastle,” whose writings contain:—
Such a sweetness, A virtue in which all ennobling thoughts dwelt, Pure thoughts, kind thoughts, high thoughts, her sex’s wonder.
In another of the Essays[172] he writes about “the intellectuals of a dear favourite of mine, of the last century but one—the thrice noble, chaste, and virtuous, but again somewhat fantastical and original brained, generous Margaret Newcastle”.
And of her Life of her husband he says: “No casket is rich enough, no casing sufficiently durable, to honour and keep such a jewel”. Lamb had a special admiration also for the Duchess’s “Two Hundred and Eleven Sociable Letters,” platitudinous epistles, any extracts from which the reader shall be spared.
A favourable, but more moderate criticism of her abilities is that of D’Israeli, who, in his _Curiosities of Literature_, says: “Her labours have been ridiculed by some wits; but had her studies been regulated, she would have displayed no ordinary genius. Her verses have been imitated by Milton.”
The latter is an amazing assertion; but D’Israeli is a literary authority of high standing, and, as a rule, he was careful in his statements.
The same idea is implied in _The Connoisseur_:[173] “As I fell asleep my fancy presented to me the following dream. I was transported, I know not how, to the regions of Parnassus.... Pegasus was brought out of the stable and the Muses furnished him with a side-saddle.... A lady advanced, who, though she had something rather extravagant in her air and deportment, yet she had a noble presence that commanded at once awe and admiration. She was dressed in an old-fashioned habit, very fantastic, and trimmed with bugles and points, such as was worn in the time of King Charles the First. This lady, I was informed, was the Duchess of Newcastle. When she came to mount, she sprang into the saddle with amazing agility; and giving an entire loose to the reins, Pegasus directly set out at a gallop, and ran with her out of sight.”