But glorious talents she had, strength of mind, generosity, the power to feel and inspire the strongest attachment,--and all these qualities were degraded, or rendered useless, by _temper_! Her avarice was not the love of money for its own sake, but the love of power; and her bitter contempt for "knaves and fools" may be excused, if not justified. Imagine such a woman as the Duchess of Marlborough out-faced, out-plotted by that crowned cypher, that sceptred commonplace, queen Anne! It should seem that the constant habit of being forced to serve, outwardly, where she really ruled,--the consciousness of her own brilliant and powerful faculties brought into immediate hourly comparison with the confined trifling understanding of her mistress, a disdain of her own forced hypocrisy, and a perception of the heartless baseness of the courtiers around her, disgusting to a mind naturally high-toned, produced at length that extreme of bitterness and insolence which made her so often "an embodied storm." She was always a termagant--but of a very different description from the vulgar Castlemaine. Though the picture of Colonel Russell, by Dobson, is really fine as a portrait, the recollection of the scene between him and Miss Hamilton[82]--his love of dancing, to prove he was not old and asthmatical,--and his attachment to his "_chapeau pointu_," make it impossible to look at him without a smile--but a good-humoured smile, such as his lovely mistress gave him when she rejected him with so much politeness.--Arabella Churchill, the sister of the great Duke of Marlborough, and mistress of the Duke of York, has been better treated by the painter than by Hamilton; instead of "La grande créature, pale et decharnée," she appears here a very lovely woman. But enough of these equivocal ladies. No--before we leave them, there are yet two to be noticed, more equivocal, more interesting, and more extraordinary than all the rest put together--Bianca di Capello, who, from a washerwoman, became Grand Duchess of Florence, with less beauty than I should have expected, but as much _countenance_; and the beautiful, but appalling picture of Venitia Digby, painted after she was dead, by Vandyke: she was found one morning sitting up in her bed, leaning her head on her hand, and lifeless; and thus she is painted. Notwithstanding the ease and grace of the attitude, and the delicacy of the features, there is no mistaking this for slumber: a heavier hand has pressed upon those eyelids, which will never more open to the light: there is a leaden lifelessness about them, too shockingly true and real-- "It thrills us with mortality, And curdles to the gazer's heart."