her husband's neglect; and china and plants have still their representatives in the Palace.
A new amusement she found in trying to rival Lely's collection of Charles II.'s Beauties. Her court, too, she thought, had its charms, and Kneller should immortalise them. Horace Walpole tells how the old Lady Carlisle told him that poor Marv only made herself unpopular by it. "If the King," said Lady Dorchester, "were to ask for the portraits of all the wits in his court, would not the rest think he called them fools?"
As one looks at the portraits of the ladies of Mary's court, the comparison seems to gain a double bitterness; for if these are the beauties, what must the others have been?
Kneller was delighted to emulate Lely, and he was well rewarded for his efforts. Polite poets complimented him in their verses, and he did not lack more substantial rewards. Lansdowne's couplets are well known—
"O Kneller! like thy picture were my song,
Clear like thy paint, and like thy pencil strong,
The matchless beauties should recorded be,
Immortalin my verse as in thy gallery."
The "Beauties," as they now appear in William the Third's Presence-Chamber, are reduced to eight. Only the most loyal flatterer could rank the Queen herself among the beauties; but the great Sarah Jennings has also disappeared. Those who remain are Diana, the heiress of the great Earls of Oxford, those De Veres whose
