'Pure religion, teaching household laws.'
At length, after many tormenting misgivings as to whether she was justified before God in so doing, she married Sidney Godolphin, 'that singular and silent lover,' whose gravity and temper at Court all knew so well, on 16th May, 1675, at the Temple Church. The marriage was a private one, for reasons which are by no means clear, and for which even Evelyn can hardly quite forgive her; though he says, 'If ever two were created for each other, and marriages, as they say, made in heaven, this happy paire were of the number.' Two or three years after their marriage she was brought to bed at Whitehall, of her first-born son, Francis—to the great joy of herself and her husband. But shortly afterwards a fever with alarming symptoms set in, causing the following touching letter to be written by her husband to Evelyn:
'My poore wife is fallen very ill of a ffevor, with lightness in her head. You know who sayes the prayer of the faithfull shall save the sick: I humbly begg your charitable prayers for this poore creature, and your distracted servant—London:—Saturday, 9 o'clock.'
The immovable man was moved to bitter agony now; and worse was to come: for 'sweet, pale Margaret' soon passed away to a world more worthy of her than that in which her lot had been cast. Evelyn says:
'This fatall houre was (your Ladyshipp[159] knows) about one o'clock, att noone on the Munday, September the nineth 1678, in the 25 year and prime of her age. O unparalell'd loss! O griefe indicible! By me never to be forgotten—never to be overcome! Nor pass I the sad anniversary and lugubruous period, without the most sencible emotion, sorrow that draws tears from my very heart whilst I am reciteing it.'
I doubt whether there is anything more tender and dolorous in our literature than the following letter which she addressed to her husband—her 'deare man,' 'the husband that above all living I vallue,' as she used affectionately to call him. The letter was not found till after her death:
'My deare, not knowing how God Allmighty may deale with me, I think it my best course to settle my affaires, soe as that, in case I be to leave this world, noe earthly thing may take up my thoughts. In the first place, my deare, believe me, that of all earthly things you were and are the most deare to me; and I am convinced that nobody ever had a better or halfe so good a husband. I begg your pardon for all my Imperfections, which I am sencible were many; but such as I could help I did endeavour to subdue, that they might not trouble you; for those defects which I could not rectifye in myselfe, as want of judgement in the management of my family and household affaires, which I owne myselfe to be very defective in, I hope your good nature will excuse, and not remember to my disadvantage when I am gone. I ask your pardon for the vanitye of my humour, and for being often (more) melancholy and splenetick[160] than I had cause to be. I was allwayes asham'd of myselfe when I was soe, and sorry for it, and I hope it will come into the number of those faults which I could not help. Now (my deare) God be with thee, pray God bless you, and keepe you his faithfull servant for ever. In Him be all thy joy and delight, satisfaction and comfort, and doe not grieve too much for me, since I hope I shall be happy, being very much resign'd to God's will, and leaving this World with, I hope, in Christ Jesus, a good Conscience. Now, my dear, if you please, permitt me to ask leave to bestow a legacy or two amongst my friends and servants.... Now, my dear, I have done, if you please to lay out about an hundred pounds more in rings for your five sisters, to remember me by. I know nothing more I have to desire of you, but that you will sometymes think of me with kindness, butt never with too much griefe. For my Funerall, I desire there may be noe cost bestowed upon it att all; butt if I might, I would begg that my body might lye where I have had such a mind to goe myselfe, att Godolphin, among your friends. I believe, if I were carried by Sea, the expence would not be very great; but I don't insist upon that place, if you think it not reasonable; lay me where you please.'
It is scarcely necessary to say that her last wish was religiously complied with, and in Breage Church her remains lie, under a plain marble slab, awaiting the Resurrection of the Just.[161] Her husband, with some of his brothers and sisters, attended the funeral (the cost of which is said to have been about £1000), and on her coffin was soldered a copper plate, thus inscribed:
'Here lyes a pearle none such the ocean yields
In all the Treasures of his liquid fields;
But such as that wise Merchant wisely sought
Who the bright Gemm with all his substance bought.
Such to Jerusalem above translates
Our God, to adorne the Entrance of her Gates.'