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.
[Illustration: A SPANISH GALLEASS OF THE 16TH CENTURY.]
[Illustration: EVENTS SUCCEEDING THE ARMADA.--SIR FRANCIS DRAKE IN
CENTRAL AMERICA.]