Chapter XVIII: Introduction (3)

The fleet then dispersed; and Don John proceeded to Messina, where great joy was felt, and immense fêtes awaited him; for he had been gone from them only six weeks, and had, in the meantime, won the greatest battle of modern times. The whole population flocked to the water side to welcome the victorious fleet, which came back not without scars, but bearing the consecrated banner still proudly aloft. In their rear were the battered prizes, with their flags trailing ignominiously in the water. There were music, garlands of flowers, triumphal arches, salvos of artillery, a gorgeous canopy, and a _Te Deum_ in the Cathedral. A grand banquet followed, when Don John was presented with 30,000 crowns by the city, which also voted him a colossal statue in bronze. Don John accepted the money, but only for the sick and wounded; and his own share of booty from Ali’s galley he ordered to be distributed among his own crew.

The news of Lepanto caused a great sensation throughout Christendom, as the Turks had been considered invincible at sea. Upon the receipt of the intelligence the Sultan Selim covered his head with dust, and refused food for three days--while all Christendom was repeating, after the sovereign Pontiff, “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.”

In Venice, which might be said to have gained a new lease of life from the results of the battle, there were ceremonial rejoicings, and, by public decree, the 7th of October was set apart forever as a national anniversary.

In Naples the joy was great, as their coasts had been so often desolated by Ottoman cruisers, and their people carried off as slaves. So, when Santa Cruz returned he was welcomed as a deliverer from bondage.

But even greater honors were paid to Colonna, in Rome. He was borne in stately procession, and trophies were carried after him, with the captives following, quite in the style of the old Roman triumphs.

Of course, the rejoicing in Spain did not fall short of that in the other countries concerned.

The great Ottoman standard, the greatest trophy of the battle, was deposited in the Escorial, where it was afterwards destroyed by fire.

When the victory was announced to Philip he was at prayer, which he did not interrupt, and he pretended to receive the intelligence very coolly. But he ordered illuminations and masses; and commanded Titian, who was then in Madrid, and ninety years of age, to paint the “Victory of the League,” still in the Museum of Madrid.

The Pope made every effort, by special ambassadors, to have the King press the war, and to extend the alliance against the Turks.

But Philip was lukewarm, even cold, and said that, for his part, he feared the Turks less than he did the Christian dissenters of Belgium, England, and the Low Countries.

It has been said that Charles V would have followed his victory to the gates of Constantinople, but the Duke of Alva thought that, Don John’s force being a mixed one, he would not have succeeded unless supported by the united force of Christendom, so great was the Moslem power at that time.

The battle lost the Turks no territory, but broke the charm of invincibility which they had possessed. Venice gained confidence, and the Ottomans never again took the initiative against that State--while those who have most carefully studied the history of the Ottoman Empire date its decline from the battle of Lepanto.

(From the Tapestry in the House of Lords, destroyed in the fire at the Houses of Parliament.)]

VI.

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. A. D. 1588.

Armada signifies, in Spanish, a Sea Army; and Philip the Second named the great fleet which he sent forth in 1588 “invincible,” because he thought that it must prevail against the forces of the heretic Hollanders and English, who excited his disgust and anger much more than the Moslem enemies with whom we have seen him last engaged.

Philip II, son of Charles V, was born at Valladolid, in 1527, and, by the abdication of his father, became King of Spain in 1556. His first wife was Maria, of Portugal, and his second was Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII.

Philip was the most powerful prince of his time. Spain, Naples, Sicily, the Milanais, Franche Comté, the Low Countries, Tunis, Oran, the Cape Verdes, Canaries, and a great part of the Americas owned his sway.

Always a fanatic, as he advanced in years the extermination of heretics became his one passion. He sent the pitiless Duke of Alva to the Low Countries, where, however, all his cruelties and persecutions could not prevent the spread of the Reformed religion. Fortunately for England, as we shall see, the Low Countries secured their independence in 1581.

In Spain, Philip was employing the Inquisition against Moors and heretics; and executions were depopulating the Peninsula and ruining the country. It was only by serious insurrections that the Milanese resisted the establishment of the Inquisition there; but to make up for that, and for his loss of the Low Countries, Philip had made the conquest of Portugal, and had extended to that country the practices of Spain.

Elizabeth of England had not only established heretical practices in her realm, but had executed Mary Stuart, and also added to her offences, in his eyes, by sending sympathy and assistance to the persecuted Flemings.

Brooding over these things, in his secret, silent way, Philip determined to invade England, reëstablish Catholicism, and avenge the Queen of Scots.

To this end he devoted some years to the assembling of the most tremendous fleet which the world, up to that time, had seen.

The Spanish nobility were encouraged to join in this new crusade, and responded to the invitation in crowds. The ships, collectively, were to carry more than three thousand guns. A Vicar-General of the Inquisition was to accompany the fleet, and establish the Inquisition in England; and it has been affirmed that complete sets of instruments of torture were also taken.

The Duke of Parma, with a large army, was to join the Armada from Belgium, and insure the conquest. This, we shall see, was prevented by the noble and faithful conduct of Holland, which, in spite of legitimate cause of complaint against England, in the recent design of the Earl of Leicester, came nobly to the rescue, and blockaded Parma, so that he and his troops were rendered unavailable. But for this, and some mistakes of the naval commanders, in all probability English history would have been very different. Many reports of the expedition had reached England, but just about the time it was ready Elizabeth’s fears had been lulled by the prospect of successful negotiations, and many of her advisers thought the threatened expedition would never approach English shores.

Elizabeth, fortunately for England, had revived the navy, as well as the merchant service, which had been so greatly neglected between the death of her father and her own accession.

The wealthier nobles and citizens, encouraged by the queen, built many men-of-war, and the Royal navy was soon able to take the sea with 20,000 fighting men.

The prudence and foresight of the queen in these measures was rewarded by the success of her seamen in disposing of a force such as had hardly ever been arrayed against any country, by sea. Philip, “who from his closet in Madrid aspired to govern the world,” and who hated Protestantism with so great a hatred that he declared “if his own son was a heretic he would carry wood to burn him,” had good and devoted soldiers to carry out his views. The Duke of Alva was inconceivably cold-blooded and cruel, yet he was a man of great ability. No more perfect chevalier and enlightened soldier existed than the young Don John, whose career was so short; and the famous Duke of Parma, the greatest general of the day, was to command the army of invasion; while the Duke of Medina Sidonia, one of the highest grandees of Spain, was a most gallant soldier. He was no seaman, and was surrounded by a staff of soldiers, or else there might have been a different story to tell of Philip’s Armada. But that does not detract from the Duke’s personal devotion and gallantry; and the expedition was accompanied by hundreds of officers of like personal character.

In regard to the Armada and its destination, Philip at first preserved the secrecy which was so consonant with his nature; but at last, when publicity could no longer be avoided, he had every dock-yard and arsenal in his dominions resounding with the hum and noise of a busy multitude, working day and night, to provide the means necessary to accomplish his purpose. New ships were built, and old ones repaired; while immense quantities of military stores were forwarded to the Netherlands, a convenient base of supplies for the invaders.

The New World was then pouring its treasures into Philip’s coffers, the product of the enslavement of whole nations, and this immense wealth Philip poured out in turn, lavishly, to accomplish his darling ambition, which was the subjection of all that remained free in the Old World.

“Rendezvous for the shipment of seamen were opened in every seaport town; while throughout Philip’s vast dominions there was not a hamlet so insignificant, or a cottage so lowly, but that the recruiting sergeant made his way to it, in his eagerness to raise troops for the grand army, which, blessed by the Pope, and led by the famous Duke of Parma, was destined, it was confidently believed, to march in triumph through the streets of London, and, by one sweeping _auto-da-fé_, extirpate heresy from that accursed land which every Spanish Catholic was taught to regard as the stronghold of the devil.”

“Volunteers of every degree, and from every corner of Europe, hastened to enlist under the banner of Castile. Of these, many were religious bigots, impelled to the crusade against English heretics by fanatic zeal; a few, men of exalted character, not unknown to fame; but by far the greater number, needy adventurers, seeking for spoil. At length, in April, 1588, after nearly three years of preparation, the army of invasion, 60,000 strong, was concentrated at Dunkirk and Nieuport, where large, flat-bottomed transports were built, ready for its reception.

“But still the Armada, that was to convoy the transports, and cover the landing of the troops on their arrival in England, loitered in Lisbon, waiting for a favorable wind. Toward the end of May it moved out of the Tagus by detachments, and passing the dangerous shoals called the Cachopos in safety, took its departure from Cape Roca, the westernmost point of Portugal, and of the continent of Europe, on June 1st, sailing due north, with a light southwesterly breeze. The fleet consisted in all of one hundred and thirty-two vessels, carrying 3165 guns, 21,639 soldiers, 8745 seamen, and 2088 galley slaves; and its aggregate burden was not less than 65,000 tons.”

The San Martin, a vessel of fifty guns, belonging to the contingent furnished by Portugal, carried the flag of the commander-in-chief, the Duke de Medina Sidonia, already mentioned.

This great Armada was very unwieldy, and contained many dull sailers, so that, making its way at the average rate of only about thirteen miles a day, it passed the Berlingas, crept by Figuera, Oporto and Vigo, and finally lay becalmed off Cape Finisterre. Up to this time the winds, if baffling, had been moderate, the weather pleasant, and the sea smooth as glass. But now the Spanish fleet was assailed by a tempest, which might be called fearful, even in the stormy Bay of Biscay.

Blowing at first fitfully, and in heavy squalls, it by nightfall settled into a steady gale from west-northwest, driving before it a tremendous sea, the surges of which broke with a roar distinctly heard above the fierce howling of the wind. Yet, though the sea ran high, it was not irregular, and the Armada, under snug canvas, was making good weather of it, when, a little after midnight, the wind shifted very suddenly to northeast, blowing with the violence of a tornado, and taking every ship under square sail flat aback. Some of the vessels, gathering sternboard, lost their rudders, which were in that day very insecure; some, thrown on their beam-ends, were forced to cut away their masts and throw overboard their guns; while all lost sails and top-hamper, and not a few the upper deck cabins, at that time so lofty.

When day broke the spectacle was presented of a whole fleet helplessly adrift upon the ocean. Many of the largest and finest vessels were lying in the trough of the sea, which every now and then made a clean breach over them, each time carrying off some of the crews. Among the fleet was a huge Portuguese galley, the Diana, which had been knocked down by the shift of wind, lost her masts and oars, and was lying on her side, gradually filling with water, and fast settling by the stern. The rest of the vessels were powerless to assist her, and she soon sank before their eyes, carrying down every soul belonging to her, including, of course, the poor galley slaves chained to her oars.

Then, to add to the horrors of storm and shipwreck, a mutiny broke out among the rowers of the galley Vasana (a motley crew of Turkish and Moorish prisoners and Christian felons), who had been long watching for an opportunity to secure their freedom; and now, seeing their galley to windward of all the vessels of the Armada, with the exception of the Capitana galley, which was a mile away from them, they judged the occasion favorable for the accomplishment of their purpose. Led by a Welshman, named David Gwynne, the mutinous galley-slaves attacked the sailors and soldiers of the Vasana, and as they exceeded them in number, and the free men had no time to seize their arms, while the slaves were armed with stilettoes made of all kinds of metal, and carefully concealed for such an occasion, they quite easily prevailed. The captain of the Capitana, seeing that something was wrong on board the Vasana, ran down as close to her as the heavy sea would permit, and, finding her already in possession of the Welshman and his fellow galley-slaves, poured a broadside into her, which cut her up terribly, and filled her decks with more killed and wounded men. At this critical moment, while engaged with an enemy without, the crew of the Capitana found themselves threatened with a greater danger from within. Their own slaves now rose, broke their chains, and took part in the engagement. It is not known whether they had any previous knowledge of an attempt on board the Vasana, or whether it was the effect of example. At any rate, they rushed upon their late masters and oppressors with such weapons as they had concealed, or could seize at the moment, and attacked them with desperate and irresistible fury and resolution. The struggle, in the midst of the gale, for the possession of the Capitana, was furious but brief. It ended in the triumph of the galley-slaves, who, like their fellows on board the Vasana, spared no rank nor age. The massacre was soon over, and the bodies thrown into the water; and the gale soon after abating, the galleys were run into Bayonne, where, Motley says, Gwynne was graciously received by Henry of Navarre. The crippled Armada, having lost three of its finest galleys, managed to creep into the different ports on the northern shore of Spain.

Once more they all made rendezvous at Corunna, and after a month spent in repairs, sailed again, on July 22d, for Calais Roads.

With fair winds and fine weather, the Spanish fleet struck soundings in the English channel on July 28th, and the following day, in the afternoon, were in sight of the Lizard, whence they were seen and recognized, and soon, by bonfires, and other preconcerted signals, all England knew that the long threatened danger was close at hand; and, without faltering, one and all prepared to meet it.

The most of the English fleet was in Plymouth at the time. Many of the principal officers were on shore, playing at bowls, and otherwise amusing themselves, and the wind was blowing directly into the harbor, preventing the fleet from pulling to sea. But the commander-in-chief, Lord Howard of Effingham, was equal to the emergency; summoning all to instant exertion; and before daylight the following morning sixty-seven of his best ships had been, with extreme labor and difficulty, towed and kedged into deep water, and, commanded by such men as Drake, Frobisher, and Hawkins, were off the Eddystone, keeping a sharp lookout for the Spaniards. Every hour additional vessels were joining the English fleet.

During the whole forenoon the wind was very light, and the weather thick; but towards evening a fine south-west wind set in, and the mist rising, the two fleets discovered each other.

The Armada, in a half-moon, and in complete battle array, was so compactly drawn up that its flanking vessels were distributed but seven miles from each other; and all were bearing steadily up channel. The Spanish guns were so numerous, and so much heavier in calibre than anything the English carried, that the Lord High Admiral saw at once that the force at his command could not successfully confront the enemy. He therefore permitted them to pass without firing a shot; but hung closely upon their rear, in hopes of cutting off any vessels which might chance to fall astern of the others. It was not until the next day, Sunday, July 31st, that an opportunity offered for attacking to advantage. Then, “sending a pinnace, called the Defiance, before him, to denounce war against the enemy, by the discharge of all her guns,” Howard at once opened fire from his own ship, the Royal Oak, upon a large galleon, commanded by Don Alphonso de Leyva, which he took to be the flag-ship of the Spanish commander-in-chief.

In the meantime, the combined squadrons of Drake, Frobisher and Hawkins opened furiously upon the fleet of Biscay, or of northern Spain, which, consisting of fourteen vessels, and carrying 302 guns, was commanded by Vice-admiral Recalde, an officer of great experience. This squadron had been formed into a rear guard, in expectation of just such an attack.

Recalde maintained the unequal fight for some hours, and with great obstinacy; all the while endeavoring to get within small-arm range of the English, which he knew would be fatal to them, as he had a large force of arquebusiers embarked in his division.

But his wary antagonists, whose vessels, “light, weatherly and nimble, sailed six feet to the Spaniards’ two, and tacked twice to their once,” evaded every effort to close, and keeping at long range, inflicted much damage upon their enemy without receiving any themselves.

At length, seeing how matters stood, the Duke Medina Sidonia signaled to Recalde to join the main body of the fleet; and, hoisting the Royal standard of Spain at his main, drew out his whole force in order of battle, and endeavored to bring on a general engagement. This Howard prudently avoided, and so the Spaniards had to keep on their course again, up channel, and “maintain a running fight of it;” the English now, as before, hanging on their rear, and receiving constant reinforcements from their seaport towns, in full view of which, as the Armada hugged the English shore, Howard, with his gallant ships and men, was passing.

In these days London alone sent forth fifty armed ships.

The night which followed was one fraught with disaster to the Spaniards. The gunner of the Santa Anna, a Fleming by birth, who had been reprimanded by his captain for some neglect of duty, in revenge laid a train to the magazine, and blew up all the after part of the vessel, with more than half her officers and crew.

The vessel nearest the Santa Anna hurried to her assistance, and was engaged in rescuing the survivors, when, in the darkness and confusion, two galleys fell foul of the flagship of the Andalusian squadron, and carried away her foremast close to the deck, so that she dropped astern of the Armada, and, the night being very dark, was soon lost sight of by her friends, and assailed by her vigilant foes.

Being well manned, and carrying fifty guns, she maintained her defence until daylight, when, finding the English hemming her in on all sides, Don Pedro de Valdez, the Admiral, struck his flag to Drake, in the Revenge, much to the chagrin of Frobisher and Hawkins, who had hoped to make prize of her themselves.

Don Pedro, who was courteously received by Drake, remained on board the Revenge until the 10th of August; so that he was an eye witness of all the subsequent events, and of the final discomfiture of his countrymen.

Drake sent the captain of the Santa Anna, “a prisoner, to Dartmouth, and left the money on board the prize, to be plundered by his men.”

All the following day was spent by the Duke in rearranging his fleet; and after the vessels were in the stations assigned them, each captain had written orders not to leave that station, under penalty of death.

In this new order the rear guard was increased to forty-three vessels, and placed under the command of Don Alphonso de Leyva, who had orders to avoid skirmishing as much as possible, but to lose no opportunity of bringing on a general engagement, or decisive battle.

On the 2d of August, at daylight, the wind shifted to the northeast, whereupon the Spanish, being to windward, bore down upon the English under full sail. But the latter also squared away, and having the advantage of greater speed, refused, as before, to allow their enemy to close with them; so the engagement was without result, there being little loss on the part of the Spaniards, while the only Englishman killed was a Mr. Cock, who was bravely fighting the enemy in a small vessel of his own.

Towards evening the wind backed to the west again, and the Armada once more continued its course toward Calais.

On the 3d of August there was a suspension of hostilities, and the Lord High Admiral received a supply of powder and ball, and a reinforcement of ships, and intended to attack the enemy in the middle of the night, but was prevented by a calm.

On the 4th, however, a straggler from the Spanish fleet was made prize of by the English.

This brought on a sharp engagement between the Spanish rear guard and the English advance, under Frobisher, which would have resulted in Frobisher’s capture had not Howard himself gone to the rescue, in the “Ark-Royal, followed by the Lion, the Bear, the Bull, the Elizabeth, and a great number of smaller vessels.” The fighting was for some time severe, but as soon as Frobisher was relieved, Howard, observing that the Duke was approaching, with the main body of the Spanish fleet, prudently gave the order to retire. It was, indeed, high time, for the Ark-Royal was so badly crippled that she had to be towed out of action.

The Lord High Admiral afterwards knighted Lord Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield, Townsend, Hawkins and Frobisher, for their gallantry on this occasion; but a convincing proof that the English had the worst of it in the encounter is the determination of a council of war “not to make any further attempt upon the enemy until they should be arrived in the Straits of Dover, where the Lord Henry Seymour and Sir William Winter were lying in wait for them.”

So the Armada kept on its way, unmolested, and with a fair wind, past Hastings and Dungeness, until it got to the north of the Varne, an extensive shoal in the Channel.

Then it left the English coast, and hauled up for Calais Road, where it anchored on the afternoon of Saturday, August 6th, close in to shore, with the Castle bearing from the centre of the fleet due east.

The English followed, and anchored two miles outside. Strengthened by the accession of Seymour’s and Winter’s squadron, they now numbered one hundred and forty sail--many of them large ships, but the majority small.

Every day since he had been in the Channel the Spanish commander-in-chief had despatched a messenger to the French coast, to proceed by land, and warn the Duke of Parma of the approach of the Armada, and to impress upon him the necessity of his being ready to make his descent upon England the moment the fleet reached Calais; and especially he desired Parma to send him, at once, pilots for the French and Flemish coasts, which those in the fleet had no knowledge of. To his bitter disappointment, on reaching Calais he found no preparation of any kind, and none of his requests complied with. All that night, and all day of August 7th, the vast Armada lay idly at anchor, vainly watching for the coming of Parma’s army, and not knowing that its egress from Nieuport and Dunkirk was a simple impossibility, since the fleets of Holland and Zealand were in full possession of all the narrow channels between Nieuport and Hils Banks and the Flemish shore; and Parma had not a single vessel of war to oppose to them.

On the evening of the 7th the appearance of the weather caused great anxiety to the seamen of the Armada, the sun setting in a dense bank of clouds, and they realized, much more fully than the soldiers on board, the insecurity of their anchorage; as a northwest gale, likely to rise at any moment, would drive them upon the treacherous quicksands of the French coast.

While this apprehension was troubling the seamen of the Armada, the English were fearful least Parma’s transports, eluding the vigilance of the Dutch cruisers, should suddenly heave in sight. But, as the evening drew on, and they observed the threatening sky, and heard the increasing surf upon the shore, both of which boded a storm, they became reassured. A little before midnight of the 7th, the weather being very thick, and a strong current setting towards the Spanish fleet, the English prepared to send in among them eight fire-ships, which they had prepared as soon as they found the enemy anchored close together. The English captains Young and Prowse towed them in, directing their course, and firing them with great coolness and judgment. A great panic resulted among the Spaniards, for they knew that the English had in their service an Italian, who, three years before, had created great havoc and destruction at Antwerp, by ingenious floating torpedoes or mines, and they no sooner saw the fire-ships, “all alight with flame, from their keelsons to their mast-heads,” and bearing down upon them, than they imagined Giannibelli and his infernal machines in their midst. Shouts of “we are lost!” passed through the fleet, but in the midst of the panic the Duke de Medina Sidonia (who had been warned by Philip to be on his guard lest the dreaded Drake should burn his vessels) maintained his composure. He at once made the signal agreed upon, to cut cables and stand clear of the danger; and the Armada was soon under sail, and out of harm’s way from fire. But the fright and confusion had been so great that, next morning, when the Duke wished to rally his fleet and return to his anchorage, many ships were out of signal distance, some far at sea, and others among the shoals of the coast of Flanders.

The 8th of August dawned with squally, southwest weather, and the English observed some of the Spanish vessels to be crippled, and drifting to leeward, while the San Lorenzo, flag-ship of the squadron of galleasses (the class of large vessels which had contributed so much to the victory of Lepanto), was endeavoring to get into the harbor of Calais. Her rudder was gone, and, although her rowers were endeavoring to keep her in the narrow channel leading to the town, she yawed widely across it, and finally grounded on a sand bank near the town. In this position she was attacked by the boats of the English fleet, and after a stubborn resistance, in which many fell on both sides, was boarded and carried. The Govenor of Calais claimed her as of right pertaining to him, and the English, just then not caring to quarrel with the French, gave her up to him, but not before they had plundered her.

The boat expedition no sooner returned, than Howard bore up for the Armada, the bulk of which was then off Gravelines, sailing in double Echelon, with flanks protected “by the three remaining galleasses, and the great galleons of Portugal.” The Duke Medina Sidonia at once hauled by the wind, with signal flying for close action, and the Royal standard at his fore. But the English had speed, handiness, and the weather gauge in their favor, and were enabled, as before, to choose their own distance, and after a desultory fight of six hours, the Duke (finding he was losing men, and had three of his best ships sunk, as many more put hors-de-combat, and having exhausted his shot, without a chance of bringing Howard within boarding distance, or of Parma’s coming out to join him) telegraphed to the fleet “to make its way to Spain, north about the British Isles,” and then himself kept away for the North Sea.

The sands of Zealand threatened him on one hand, and the hardy English seamen on the other; and with these odds against him, the proud Spaniard had no resource left but to retreat.

That night it blew a strong breeze from the north, and the next day some of the Spanish vessels were in great danger from the Dutch shoals, but a shift of wind saved them.

The English kept close after them until August 12th, when, being themselves short of provisions and ammunition, they came by the wind, and stood back for their own shores, where, of course, the intelligence they brought caused great joy, after the narrow escape from invasion.

An intelligent officer, Commodore Foxhall A. Parker, United States Navy, commenting upon these actions, says, “it has been asserted that Medina Sidonia so dreaded the passage around the grim Hebrides that he was upon the point of surrender to Howard, when he last approached him, but was dissuaded from doing so by the Ecclesiastics on board his vessel; but this story, as well as one told by the Spanish soldiers who were taken prisoners in the fight of August 8th, and who wished to curry favor with their captors, that this fight ‘far exceeded the battle of Lepanto,’ may be safely classed with the marvelous relations of the ‘intelligent contraband,’ and the ‘reliable gentleman just from Richmond,’ so often brought to the front during the great civil war in America. Why, indeed, should the Duke have surrendered to a force unable to fire a shot at him, and which, had it ventured within boarding distance of the Armada, must have inevitably fallen into his hands? Was not the Saint Matthew, when assailed in a sorely crippled condition by a whole squadron, defended for two long hours? And did not several Spanish vessels, refusing to strike when they were in a sinking condition, go down with their colors flying? Was, then, the Commander-in-chief less courageous than his subordinates? Let the truth be told. Medina Sidonia, from his want of experience at sea, was utterly disqualified to command the great fleet entrusted to his care; but Spain possessed no braver man than he.”

The history of the Armada, after Howard left it, is one of shipwreck and disaster. Many of its vessels foundered at sea, and many more were lost on the rocky coasts of Scotland and Ireland; and the crews of some, who managed to reach the land, were massacred by the savage inhabitants of the west of Ireland.

Few of the leaders lived to return to their native land, and there was hardly a family in Spain that was not in mourning.

Upon learning of the disaster Philip affected great calmness, and merely remarked, “I did not send my fleet to combat the tempest, and I thank God, who has made me able to repair this loss.”

But, in spite of that, his disappointment was terrible, and in his fierce and savage resentment at the depression of his people he cut short all mourning by proclamation. A merchant of Lisbon, who imprudently allowed himself to express some joy at the defeat of the conqueror of his nation, was hanged by order of Philip--so that, as Motley says, “men were reminded that one could neither laugh nor cry in Spanish dominions.”

In other parts of Europe great joy was felt, for both England and the Continent were delivered from the nightmare of universal empire and the Inquisition. Well might England rejoice, and proceed to build up a more powerful navy.

The Spanish marine was irretrievably wrecked, and never again rose to its former position; and the loss of the preponderance of Spain in European affairs began at this time.

The commander first selected for the Armada, Alvaro de Bazan, a fine seaman, died just before it left Lisbon. He would, no doubt, have handled it better than Medina Sidonia; and he certainly would have attacked the wind-bound English fleet in Plymouth, in spite of orders, and if he had done so would probably have destroyed it.

Philip had disregarded the advice of Parma and Santa Cruz, experienced soldiers, to secure a point in Flanders, before attacking England; and he erred in binding down Medina Sidonia not to take the initiative and attack the English fleet until he had been joined by Parma’s transports.

We may add a few words concerning Philip II. He survived the loss of his Armada ten years; having succeeded in making his memory thoroughly odious. Philip was gifted with high capacity, but was sombre, inflexible and bloody minded. He was at the same time vindictive, pusillanimous and cruel; full of joy at an _auto-da-fè_, while he trembled during a battle. To sanguinary fanaticism he added violence of temper almost bestial in its exhibition. He was close and deceptive in politics--always covering himself and his designs with the mask of religion. He seemed, indeed, not to have a human heart in his breast; and yet he had a taste for the fine arts--loving painting, but even better, architecture, in which latter he was learned. He finished the Escorial and beautified Madrid, which he made the capital of Spain.

Besides the foregoing his sole pleasure was the chase; while, unlike his father, he was generous to those who served him, and very sober in living and simple in dress.

VII.

SOME NAVAL EVENTS OF ELIZABETH’S TIME, SUCCEEDING THE ARMADA.

The signal discomfiture of the Armada caused, in England, an enthusiastic passion for enterprises against Spain; and this was fostered by the unusual good fortune of English adventurers, especially in their attacks upon the commerce and colonies of the Spanish.

Don Antonio, of Portugal, having advanced a claim to the crown of that country, then held by Spain, an expedition was undertaken, in England, to conquer that country for him. Nearly 20,000 volunteers enlisted, and ships were hired and arms and provisions provided by the adventurers. The frugal Queen only contributed to the enterprise some £60,000 and six of her ships. Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris were at the head of it, and if they had not allowed themselves to be drawn off from the main object of their enterprise to attack a Spanish fleet, fitting at the Groyne for another invasion of England, it is quite probable that Lisbon would have been taken by a _coup-de-main_. In consequence of their delay Lisbon was too strongly defended, and the English fleet was obliged to retire. After taking and burning Vigo they returned to England, having lost more than half their number by sickness, famine, fatigue, and wounds. This was, indeed, usually the case with the maritime adventurers of that day, the losses from illness alone being perfectly frightful.

As this expedition was returning another was going out, under the Earl of Cumberland, all the ships, except one man-of-war sent by the Queen, being equipped at his own expense. Cumberland went to the Terceras and took many Spanish prizes, but the richest one, a galleon, was lost on the Cornish coast, in the attempt to reach England. Attempting to seize the Islands, Cumberland met with a bloody repulse, losing nearly half his men, and a great mortality seizing upon the survivors, left him hardly men enough to steer his ships back into a home harbor.

But all these maritime expeditions, whether successful or not, had a good effect in keeping the Spaniards in check, as well as in keeping up the spirit and nautical ability of the English.

At a later period, when Elizabeth was assisting Henri Quatre, in France, against the Duke of Parma and the League, she employed her naval power very freely against Philip, and endeavored at all times to intercept his West Indian treasure ships, the source of that greatness which rendered him so formidable to all his neighbors.

Among other operations she sent Lord Thomas Howard, with a squadron of seven ships, upon this service. But Philip, informed of her intentions, fitted out a great fleet of fifty-five sail, and despatched them to escort home the fleet of galleons from the West Indies.

The Queen’s seven ships, commanded by Howard, were the Defiance, the Revenge, the Nonpareil, Bonaventure, Lion, Foresight, and Crane. They are said to have been miserably fitted out. Howard went to the Azores, and anchoring at Flores, there waited six months for the approach of the treasure ships, which were inconceivably slow and deliberate in their passages. In the meantime Don Alphonso Bassano, the commander of the Spanish escort fleet, hearing of the small English force at Flores, determined to attack it. The English squadron was at the time unprepared, beside having much sickness on board. Howard put to sea hurriedly, leaving many men on shore, and was attacked by the whole Spanish fleet. The brunt of the engagement which followed was principally borne by the Revenge, commanded by Sir Richard Grenville. The fight began about three o’clock in the afternoon, and continued until after daylight the next morning.

The Revenge was laid on board at one and the same time by the St. Philip, of 1500 tons and 78 guns, and four others of the Spanish men-of-war of the largest size, and filled with soldiers. The enemy boarded no less than fifteen times during the night, and were as often repulsed, although they continually shifted their vessels, and boarded with fresh men. The gallant Grenville was wounded early in the action, but refused to quit the deck. About midnight, however, he was wounded by a musket ball, which passed through his body. He was then carried below to have his wound dressed, but while under the surgeon’s hands, was again wounded in the head, and the surgeon was killed by his side while attending to his wounds.

The gallant crew held out till daylight, by which time the ship was a mere wreck, and out of an original crew of 103, forty were killed, and almost all the rest wounded. The ammunition was expended in the long and constant firing, and most of their small arms were broken and useless. In this condition nothing remained but surrender. But Sir Richard proposed to trust to the mercy of God, rather than that of the Spaniards, and to destroy themselves with the ship, rather than yield. The master gunner and many of the seamen agreed to this, but others opposed it, and obliged Grenville to surrender as a prisoner. They refused to strike, however, until they were promised their liberty, and the Spaniards assenting, the ship was at last surrendered.

This was the first English man-of-war that the Spaniards had ever taken, but she was not doomed to be exhibited as a trophy, for she foundered a few days afterward, with two hundred of the Spanish prize crew which had been placed on board of her. It is said that it cost the Spaniards a thousand lives to capture the Revenge.

Sir Richard Grenville was carried on board the Spanish admiral’s ship, where he died, two days after, impressing his enemies very much by his extraordinary behavior and courage. His last words were: “Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind; for I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his country, queen, religion and honor. My soul willingly departing from this body, leaving behind the everlasting fame of having behaved as every valiant soldier is in his duty bound to do.”

In the meantime the treasure ships had been detained so long at Havana, for fear of the English cruisers, that they were obliged to sail at an improper season, and most of them were lost at sea before they reached Spanish harbors.

In 1592 an expedition under Sir Martin Frobisher, consisting of two men-of-war belonging to the Queen, and others fitted by Frobisher and Sir Walter Raleigh, made a cruise on the coast of Spain, and took many Spanish ships. Among them was a carrack, called Madre de Dios, of which a description is given, and which must have been a most extraordinary vessel, more like a floating castle or tower than a ship. “She had seven decks, of 165 feet from stem to stern, was of 1600 tons burden, manned with 600 men, and carried thirty-two brass guns. Her cargo was valued at £150,000 on her arrival in England, besides what the officers and seamen had plundered her of when taken.” This was an immense sum for those times, and an extraordinary booty to be taken in a single ship.

The Queen’s adventure in this cruise was only two ships, one of which, the least of the two, was at the taking of the carrack Madre de Dios; in virtue of which she assumed power over the whole of the valuable cargo, taking what portion of it she pleased, and making the rest of the adventurers submit to her pleasure in the matter. She is said to have dealt with them rather indifferently, taking the lion’s share.

In 1594 the brave and skillful Admiral Sir Martin Frobisher was lost to his country. He had been sent with the Vanguard, Rainbow, Dreadnought, and Acquittance, to aid the French in the attack upon Brest, which important naval station was then held by the Spaniards. The Admiral entered the harbor with his ships, and attacked the forts most vigorously. But the place was well defended, and the attacking party suffered serious loss. At length the forts surrendered, and the garrison was put to the sword.

Sir Martin Frobisher was wounded in the hip by a grape shot, and died soon after he had brought his squadron safely home.

The accounts of the English naval enterprises of the latter part of Elizabeth’s reign read like romance. These enterprises, often entirely of a private nature, though sanctioned by the State, were a curious mixture of chivalrous search for glory and of the grasping love of lucre of a freebooter or pirate.

In 1594 Richard Hawkins, son of the celebrated navigator, Sir John, made an unsuccessful raid upon the Spanish possessions in the South Seas, by way of the Straits of Magellan. And in the same year James Lancaster was sent by some London merchants to South America, with a squadron, and took thirty-nine Spanish ships. He also attacked and captured, against great odds, the very rich city of Pernambuco, destroying his boats after his men had landed, so as to force them to fight or to be slaughtered. He returned safely to England, with an immense booty.

In 1595, Sir Walter Raleigh took a fleet in search of the gold mines of Guiana, and ascended the Oronoco in boats. He suffered immense loss in battle and by disease, and found nothing of what he went in search for. His account of his adventures is most marvelous, and has long been known to be drawn principally from his imagination.

In the same year, Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, with six men-of-war of the Queen’s and twenty others, proceeded on an expedition against the Spanish settlements in Central America. They first attacked Porto Rico, where they were repulsed with very serious loss, and Hawkins soon after died. Drake then resolved to go to Nombre de Dios, on the Isthmus of Darien, whence he made an attempt to cross the isthmus to Panama. But the resistance of the Spaniards, coupled with the difficulties of the region and the climate, all proved too great even for this seasoned adventurer, and the exposure, vexation and disappointment so worked upon him that he died. Sir Thomas Baskerville took command of the expedition, and after an indecisive fight with a Spanish fleet, returned home empty-handed.

Philip II being known to be making preparations for another invasion of England, a powerful English fleet was equipped at Plymouth, consisting of one hundred and seventy vessels, seventeen of which were first-rate men-of-war. Twenty ships were added to these by the Hollanders. This fleet was commanded by the High Admiral, Lord Effingham, while Elizabeth’s favorite, the Earl of Essex, commanded the troops embarked. Many of the first men of England were either commanders or serving as volunteers.

The fleet sailed from Plymouth on the first of June, 1596, with a fair wind, with orders to rendezvous off Cadiz. Fast vessels sent in advance intercepted all traders, and the fleet found the Spaniards unsuspicious of any attack, and the port full of men-of-war and richly laden merchantmen.

After a fruitless attack at St. Sebastians, it was resolved to take the fleet into the bay and attack the Spanish shipping. The Admiral did not look upon this plan with much favor, conceiving it to be rash, but at last it was determined upon, so much to Essex’s joy that he is said to have thrown overboard his richly jeweled cap, on hearing the decision of the council of war. His joy was much moderated when he heard that Effingham had orders from the Queen not to allow him to lead in the attack, as he was not to be exposed. Sir Walter Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard were appointed to lead, but when the fight began Essex forgot his orders, and pressed into the thickest of the fire. The English had great incentives to do well. The nobles were emulous for glory, while all were incited by the prospect of great plunder, and by animosity against their old enemy, the Spaniards. The English fleet attacked with such ardor that the Spaniards were soon obliged to slip their cables, and, retreating to the bottom of the bay, run on shore. Essex landed his men, and carried the city, sword in hand. After the place was taken, he is said to have stopped the slaughter usual on such occasions, and to have treated his prisoners with great humanity.

The English fell into a great amount of plunder, but a much richer booty was lost by the burning of the fleet and the merchantmen, which was ordered by the Spanish Admiral, the Duke de Medina Sidonia. Thus was immense loss caused to Spain, not to speak of the humiliation of that proud nation at seeing one of her principal cities in the hands of the hated heretics.

In 1597 Spain was busy collecting ships and troops at Ferrol, for the purpose of a descent upon Ireland. Elizabeth at once put the Earl of Essex in command of a fleet, with Sir W. Raleigh, Lord Thomas Howard and Lord Mountjoy, as commanders, while many of the first nobility embarked as volunteers.

This fleet sailed from Plymouth on the 9th of July, but the very next day encountered a severe storm, which damaged and scattered it. After reassembling and refitting, the project of going to attack Ferrol was given up, and it was determined to endeavor to capture the great annual treasure fleet from the Spanish Indies.

In that age, from the unwieldiness of these great galleons and from imperfect navigation, these fleets had stated courses and seasons for going and returning. They had also certain ports where they touched for water and provisions, rendered necessary by the immense time they consumed in their voyages. The Azores was one of these points, and Essex determined to go there, and to take the port of Fayal, as a preliminary step to capturing the fleet. But the English ships becoming separated on the passage, Raleigh and his squadron arrived alone. Seeing the Spaniards at work fortifying, he at once attacked and took the place. Essex, upon his arrival, was much incensed at being robbed of the glory he so much coveted, and but for Howard, would have cashiered Raleigh and his officers. Sir Walter having made due amends, the matter was arranged, and dispositions were made for intercepting the galleons. Sir William Monson was stationed off the islands, in observation, and in due time made the appointed signal that the Spaniards were in sight. These, however (owing, as Monson says, in his memoirs, to Essex’s want of seamanship), almost all managed to get into the secure and strong port of Angra. Only three were taken, but these were of such value as to defray the whole cost of the expedition.

(Built by Henry VII of England.)]

VIII.

NAVAL ACTIONS OF THE WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND HOLLAND. A.D. 1652-3.

In 1652 the Dutch naval power was without a rival in the world. The sea seemed to be their proper element, and their fleets of war and commerce penetrated to every part of the globe. Their colonial possessions were only inferior to those of Spain, and their wealth, energy and valor gave every promise of their extension.

England had better home harbors, and a finer geographical position; a more numerous population, and almost equal maritime resources; and it was a natural and cherished idea of the English Republicans to form the Commonwealth and the United Provinces of Holland into one powerful Protestant State, which should be able to resist all the other powers. The advantages of such a union were easily to be seen, but the splendid conception was opposed by commercial jealousies and by dynastic interests.

William, the second Prince of Orange of that name, had married a daughter of Charles the First, so that in addition to a princely antipathy to Commonwealths, an alliance of this kind would have interfered with a possible succession of his wife and children to the English throne.

William was exceedingly popular with the masses, and so long as he lived the two States remained on bad terms. He even refused to extend to the agents of Parliament the protection of the Dutch law, and they were constantly insulted, and one lost his life at the hands of a mob, it was said, by the machinations of Montrose. No redress could be obtained.

Holland’s recent successes, especially at sea, against Spain and the Barbary States, had made her very confident in her maritime power. England was then much exhausted, from internal dissension, and Holland was anxious to be considered mistress of the Narrow Seas, a right which England had long claimed, and which the Dutch had always firmly disputed.

The Prince of Orange died rather suddenly, leaving his heir yet unborn, and the Democratic party, which comprised the most liberal and enlightened of the Dutch people, seized the opportunity to abolish the office of Stadtholder, and restore a pure Republic. After their success in this it was thought and hoped that at least a close alliance, offensive and defensive, might be formed between the two Republican States. An ambassador was sent from England to Holland for that purpose, but the negotiation lagged. The “High Mightinesses” who now ruled Holland offered a counter-proposition. Delays followed, and St. John, the English envoy, whose time was limited to a certain fixed date, had his pride hurt by the delay. The Dutch, on their side, thought it arrogant and menacing in the English Parliament to have set a time for their action and its agent’s return. The exiled court was then at the Hague, and the exiled cavaliers frequently made St. John feel their presence. Then, again, Holland may have wished to see the result of the invasion of Scotland, and, after long delays, St. John left Holland, more inclined for war than peace.