THE SPANISH ARMADA. between the coasts of Scotland and Denmark, the blackness of night seemed suddenly to descend. A mystery hung for a long time over their fate. Damaged, leaking, without pilots, without a competent commander, the great fleet entered that furious storm, and was whirled along the iron crags of Norway and between the savage rocks of Faröe and the Hebrides. In those regions of tempest the insulted North wreaked its full vengeance on the insolent Spaniards. Disaster after disaster marked their perilous track; gale after gale swept them hither and thither, tossing them on sandbanks or shattering them against granite cliffs. The coasts of Norway, Scotland, Ireland, were strewn with the wrecks of that pompous fleet, which claimed the dominion of the seas ;* with the bones of those invincible legions which were to have sacked London and made England a Spanish vice-royalty." Within two months from the time of his sailing out of the Groyne, the Duke of Medina Sidonia crept back into the harbour of Santander, with the shattered fragments of his mighty armament. Such was the end of the Spanish Armada. All that incalculable expense, all those enormous levies had shrunk away to this miserable conclusion of a lamentable expedition. Our nationality was saved to be preserved for noble and Christian uses. The invader could not avail aught against "This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.” "Their invincible and dreadful navy," said Sir Francis Drake, "with all its great and terrible ostentation, did not in all their sailings about England so much as sink or take one ship, bark, pinnace, or cock-boat of ours, or even burn so much as one sheep-cote on this land.” It was not till this terrible danger was past that Elizabeth made that memorable address to her army with whose burning words most of us are familiar. But this circumstance does by no means detract from the greatness of the great Queen. It was yet possible that the Armada might halt and make a descent on this coast. The great army of Spain was still on the opposite shore. It was fully expected that the contest would yet be fought out on English ground. That noble speech we now give: "My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear! I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood even in the dust." The gratitude of the nation rose high to heaven for the merciful deliverance vouchsafed. Queen Elizabeth publicly attended service in St. Paul's Cathedral, surrounded by her great captains and statesmen, and with banners and trophies. Throughout all the churches of the land were raised "public and general thanks unto God, with all devotion and inward affection of heart and humbleness, for his gracious favour extended towards us in our deliverance and defence, in the wonderful overthrow and destruction showed by his mighty hand on our malicious enemies the Spaniards, who had thought to invade and make a conquest of the land." The time of reprisals followed. It was a favourite amusement with Drake and his companions to dash into some Spanish port, Cadiz, or Vigo, or Ferrol, SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELLA. and "singe the King of Spain's whiskers," as they contemptuously phrased the daring exploit. Coruña, the harbour whence the Armada sailed, was specially marked out for vengeance. It was taken by Drake and Norris, with only twelve hundred men, in the year following the defeat of the Armada. Yet once again Coruña was linked with our national history. Here Sir John Moore turned to bay against the overwhelming forces of Soult. With only about thirteen thousand men he repelled the attack of the French army, which mustered twenty thousand, and inflicted upon them so sharp a defeat as to secure the unmolested embarkation of the troops. His last words as he died in the moment of victory were, "I hope the people of England will be satisfied; I hope my country will do me justice." An urn of granite marks the spot where- "We buried him darkly at dead of night, About thirty miles from Coruña is the famous shrine of Santiago de Compostella. Among the absurd and incredible traditions of the Romish Church few are more absurd and incredible than those which connect themselves with the posthumous visit of St. James to this spot. It is alleged that the Apostle after he was beheaded went on board a boat at Joppa; some declare that the boat was the stone coffin in which the headless trunk was laid. It immediately set sail and reached the coast of Spain in seven days. Coming ashore, the body was deposited in a cave consecrated to Bacchus, where it remained for eight centuries. At the end of this period the body of the saint was manifested by heavenly lights which shone above the spot. Taken from its resting-place, wild bulls, "impelled by divine inspiration," came and drew the body to the city of Santiago. Here a cathedral was built, pilgrimages were instituted, and wealth poured rapidly upon the bishop and the clergy of the church. The apostle, in grateful recognition of the honours thus conferred upon him, came to the help of the Spaniards against the Moors. In one battle-that of Clavijo--he slew sixty thousand Moslems single-handed, and secured the victory to his votaries. Saint James was already the patron saint of Spain, and from this time Santiago has been the war-cry of her armies. His church at Compostella was for many centuries one of the most popular shrines in Europe. In the year 1434, no fewer than two thousand four hundred and sixty pilgrims came hither from England alone. Travelling in this district is slow and difficult. Railways have not yet penetrated it, and the roads are execrable. Even in Spain, where the communications are the worst in Europe, the roads of Galicia and the Asturias are proverbial for badness. The ruts are so deep that the vehicle often sinks |