And now that we have seen her illustrious husband reach the pinnacle of his ambition, we may turn for a while to the story of his wife. She was descended from a good family out of Norfolk,[157] and her father was a Colonel Blagge, Groom of the Bedchamber to Charles I. and II. She was born on 2nd August, 1652, and reluctantly came to the court of the then Duchess of York--Anne Hyde--when only about fifteen years of age, leaving it for that of the Queen on the death of the Duchess in 1671. She was always of a pious and retiring--not to say melancholy--disposition, and would have infinitely preferred the quiet innocence of a country house to the tumult and dissipation of such a Court as that to which she was now introduced. As an instance of the almost morbid tendency of her mind, Evelyn's description of her attitude in the portrait which she gave him may be cited: 'She would be drawne in a lugubrous posture, sitting upon a Tomb stone adorned with a Sepulcher Urne.' An engraving of this picture is prefixed to the edition of Evelyn to which I have just referred. It quite embodies the spirit of Tennyson's lines to another Margaret: 'O sweet pale Margaret, O rare pale Margaret, What lit your eyes with tearful power, Like moonlight on a falling shower? Who lent you, love, your mortal dower Of pensive thought and aspect pale, Your melancholy sweet and frail As perfume of the cuckoo flower? From the westward-winding flood, From the evening-lighted wood, From all things outward you have won _A tearful grace_, as tho' you stood Between the rainbow and the sun. The very smile before you speak That dimples your transparent cheek, Encircles all the heart, and feedeth The senses with a still delight Of dainty sorrow without sound, Like the tender amber round Which the moon about her spreadeth, Moving through a fleecy night.' It may be easily imagined that with such a temperament she bent her mind with extreme difficulty to what she considered her duty--namely, to be in the Court, and yet not of the Court--faithfully discharging all the duties allotted to her, and preserving a cheerful face, though her heart was aching at the recklessness and sensuality with which she was surrounded. And yet, says Evelyn, 'Arethusa pass'd thro' all those turbulent waters without soe much as the least staine or tincture in her christall; with her Piety grew up her Witt, which was soe sparkling, accompanyed with a Judgment and Eloquence soe exterordnary, a Beauty and Ayre soe charmeing and lovely, in a word, an Address soe universally takeing, that after few years, the Court never saw or had seen such a Constellation of perfections amongst all their splendid Circles.'