twenty old galleys, battered, dismantled,
unseaworthy, and a few armed ships for convoying the East and West
Indiamen to and from their destinations.

The general poverty was so great that it was often absolutely impossible
to purchase food for the royal household. "If you ask me," said a cool
observer, "how this great show of empire is maintained, when the funds
are so small, I answer that it is done by not paying at all." The
Government was shamelessly, hopelessly bankrupt. The noble band of
courtiers were growing enormously rich. The state was a carcase which
unclean vultures were picking to the bones.

The foremost man in the land--the autocrat, the absolute master in State
and Church--was the Duke of Lerma.

Very rarely in human history has an individual attained to such unlimited
power under a monarchy, without actually placing the crown upon his own
head. Mayors of the palace, in the days of the do-nothing kings, wielded
nothing like the imperial control which was firmly held by this great
favourite. Yet he was a man of very moderate capacity and limited
acquirements, neither soldier, lawyer, nor priest.

The duke was past sixty years of age, a tall, stately, handsome man, of
noble presence and urbane manner. Born of the patrician house of
Sandoval, he possessed, on the accession of Philip, an inherited income
of ten or twelve thousand dollars. He had now, including what he had
bestowed on his son, a funded revenue of seven hundred thousand a year.
He had besides, in cash, jewels, and furniture, an estimated capital of
six millions. All this he had accumulated in ten years of service, as
prime minister, chief equerry, and first valet of the chamber to the
king.

The tenure of his authority was the ascendancy of a firm character over a
very weak one. At this moment he was doubtless the most absolute ruler in
Christendom, and Philip III. the most submissive and uncomplaining of his
subjects.

The origin of his power was well known. During the reign of Philip II.,
the prince, treated with great severity by his father, was looked upon
with contempt by every one about court. He was allowed to take no part in
affairs, and, having heard of the awful tragedy of his eldest
half-brother, enacted ten years before his own birth, he had no
inclination to confront the wrath of that terrible parent and sovereign
before whom all Spain trembled. Nothing could have been more humble, more
effaced, more obscure, than his exis