little flutterings of indignation and resistance? So pure
and fragile a creature could accomplish little good for king or people.
Perpetually guarded and surrounded by the Countess of Lemos and the
Duchess of Lerma, she lived in mortal awe of both. As to the duke
himself, she trembled at his very name. On her first attempts to speak
with Philip on political matters--to hint at the unscrupulous character
of his government, to arouse him to the necessity of striking for a
little more liberty and for at least a trifling influence in the
state--the poor little king instantly betrayed her to the favourite and
she was severely punished. The duke took the monarch off at once on a
long journey, leaving her alone for weeks long with the terrible duchess
and countess. Never before had she been separated for a day from her
husband, it having been the king's uniform custom to take her with him in
all his expeditions. Her ambition to interfere was thus effectually
cured. The duke forbade her thenceforth ever to speak of politics to her
husband in public or in private--not even in bed--and the king was
closely questioned whether these orders had been obeyed. She submitted
without a struggle. She saw how completely her happiness was at Lerma's
mercy. She had no one to consult with, having none but Spanish people
about her, except her German father-confessor, whom, as a great favour,
and after a severe struggle, she had beep allowed to retain, as otherwise
her ignorance of the national language would have made it impossible for
her to confess her little sins. Moreover her brothers, the archdukes at
Gratz, were in receipt of considerable annual stipends from the Spanish
exchequer, and the duke threatened to stop those pensions at once should
the queen prove refractory. It is painful to dwell any longer on the
abject servitude in which the king and queen were kept. The two were at
least happy in each other's society, and were blessed with mutual
affection, with pretty and engaging children, and with a similarity of
tastes. It is impossible to imagine anything more stately, more devout,
more regular, more innocent, more utterly dismal and insipid, than the
lives of this wedded pair.

This interior view of the court and council of Spain will suffice to
explain why, despite the languor and hesitations with which the
transactions were managed, the inevitable tendency was towards a peace.
The inevitable slowness, secrecy, and tergiversations w