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ON SEPT. 21, 1588, a savage storm lashed the western coast of Ireland. As the gale intensified, three bulky ships ran aground on the sands of Streedagh Strand, north of Sligo. Part of a formidable "Armada” sent by King Philip II of Spain to conquer the kingdom of his archenemy, Queen Elizabeth I of England, the armed merchantmen had already made a remarkable odyssey. The mission had taken them from Portugal, through the English Channel in a running fight with the nimble and well-armed warships of the “Virgin Queen,” and then around Scotland on a hazardous homeward passage. Now pulverized by the unrelenting Atlantic surf, the stricken vessels broke apart, with the loss of more than 1,000 lives.
In "Armada: The Spanish Enterprise and England's Deliverance in 1588," Colin Martin and Geoffrey Parker trace the genesis, fate and legacy of a venture that is remembered as a disaster but that, in their estimation, came close to achieving its objective. The authors first met in 1973, and in the half-century since have maintained a fruitful academic collaboration. In a revised and expanded version of a book first published in 1988, the two deliver what will surely become the definitive account of what the Spanish called "the Enterprise of England.”
Mr. Parker, a professor of history at Ohio State University, draws upon his unrivaled mastery of the extensive documentary sources. Mr. Martin, a retired reader in maritime archaeology at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, deploys knowledge he has gained in directing the exploration of three Armada wrecks. Distinguished by incisive analysis, "Armada" fuses the complementary skills of the historian and the underwater archaeologist, exploiting the latest discoveries from the archives and seabed alike to help explain why the endeavor ultimately failed.
The Armada evolved against a backdrop of escalating tension between Philip II, overlord of an empire spanning swaths of the Americas and Europe, and Elizabeth Tudor. Philip enjoyed a papal blessing for his "crusade" against Protestant heretics but also had his own, strategic, reasons for invading England. Elizabeth I was a supporter of Dutch rebellions against Spanish rule in the "Low Countries," and she encouraged notorious "pirates" such as Francis Drake, who plundered the treasure fleets upon which Spain's power depended. Elizabeth, in her 50s and lacking an heir, suspected that Philip was implicated in Catholic plots to oust her. The queen's fears rested upon more than paranoia: Her ally, the Dutch leader William of Orange, was assassinated by a Spanish agent in 1584.
The original proposal for the "Enterprise of England," drawn up in 1586 by its designated commander, the experienced marquis of Santa Cruz, envisaged a single amphibious task force. Philip, an inveterate "micromanager," could not resist meddling with the plan, making it dependent upon close cooperation between the fleet and an entirely separate army. The authors show how this made the mission much more complicated.
Philip was adamant that the Armada should sail up the English Channel and rendezvous in the narrow Straits of Dover with the Spanish "Army of Flanders," which would be stationed in the Netherlands. Whatever the provocation, the Armada was to save its strength until positioned to escort almost 30,000 veterans, packed aboard specially prepared barges, to a beachhead in Kent.
The invasion would be commanded by the king's nephew, Alexander Farnese, duke of Parma. Supplied and reinforced by the Armada, Parma's army was to push inland against London, its flank braced by ships probing the Thames estuary. The king's strategic vision may have been compromised by his religious piety; the extremely devout Philip was confident that God's favor would overcome all difficulties.
The Armada's departure was delayed by the logistical challenge of assembling and supplying such a vast undertaking. In 1587, Francis Drake hampered Spanish preparations by torching stores stockpiled at Cadiz in a pre-emptive strike that he described as "singeing the King of Spain's beard." When the marquis of Santa Cruz succumbed to typhus, the role of organizer was assumed by the duke of Medina Sidonia, despite his reluctance to accept what he regarded as a poisoned chalice. The duke's administrative ability put the Armada on an even keel: By the time it eventually left Iberia, the revitalized force mustered 130 ships carrying 27,000 men. Significantly, though, two-thirds of them were soldiers with scant experience of life afloat.
Philip's master plan rested on the belief that his ships must avoid an artillery duel with the enemy and in- stead discharge their heavy guns at close quarters before grappling and boarding -- a scenario in which, the authors suggest, the Armada's seasoned shock troops would surely prevail [if the Spanish had a chance to get close to English vessels]. At sea, however, the English enjoyed crucial advantages.
"In the 1570s, English shipwrights had modified the era's traditional galleon into a sleeker and speedier 'race-built' craft. Unlike the Armada's artillery, which used unwieldy carriages typical of land warfare, English guns were mounted upon compact 'trucks' that were far easier to handle aboard ship. While England's western squadron of 105 ships had a complement of only 9,500 men, all were skilled mariners, and even privileged gentlemen were expected to 'haul and draw' upon ropes.
The fundamental flaw in Philip's scheme -- the difficulty of communicating with the distant duke of Parma on the continent -- was apparent when Medina Sidonia reached the western entrance to the English Channel without any news of Parma. Soon after, at dawn on July 31, 1588, he became aware of another alarming development. During the night, English Adm Charles Howard's fleet had left Plymouth and slipped behind the Armada, gaining the prized following wind, or "weather gage."
The Armada reacted by adopting its prearranged order of battle -- a crescent, with the horns capable of pivoting to face threats from the rear or front. It was a distinctive formation, conspicuous in the engravings and tapestries that Howard commissioned to commemorate the campaign.
Incurring a handful of losses, the Armada slowly continued up the channel toward its anticipated junction with Parma, rebuffing efforts to stop it. Interestingly, the authors believe that if the Armada had constituted a self-contained force, as Santa Cruz had first intended, Howard could not have stopped a landing on English soil. Instead, on Aug. 6, when the rival fleets anchored across the channel off Calais, they remained in tactical stalemate.
To break the deadlock, the English sent unmanned, blazing fireships to fracture the Armada's dense array. Howard's crews exploited this dislocation and finally unleashed a punishing close-range barrage. The admiral and his subordinates now realized that it was not necessary to destroy the Armada -- to deflect it would be enough to scuttle Spain's "Grand Design."
Battered but intact, the Armada sailed on into the North Sea, shadowed at a respectful distance by English warships with sickly crews and empty shot lockers; the wary pursuit was a risky bluff. Luckily for Howard, a council of war aboard the Armada on Aug 10 decided against turning back in a renewed bid to meet Parma, resolving instead to return to base by rounding northern Britain. For Queen Elizabeth, this had been a close call. "In perhaps only slightly different circumstances," the authors observe, "the Enterprise of England might have been the crowning success of Philip's reign.”
Indeed, although England enjoyed an edge at sea, on land that situation was reversed. Had the Armada been able to take on Parma's forces and disembark them successfully, their siege artillery would probably have made short work of Kent's feeble fortifications. In addition, the Spanish veterans were far superior to the raw militia mustered to oppose them. Elizabeth would likely have lost her head -- just like her mother, Anne Boleyn, and her cousin Mary Queen of Scots.
As the bedraggled Armada limped home, the ships encountered gales that inflicted far worse damage than English gunfire had. More than 30 ships were lost off the western coasts of Scotland and Ireland, and the sites of eight wrecks have been confirmed by archaeological evidence. Recovered items have amplified the documentary record and challenged previous interpretations of events. For example, an assumption that the Armada ran out of ammunition has been debunked by the discovery of numerous cannon balls. Since these were mostly of larger calibers, the authors conclude that, while the Armada used its lighter guns, it was unable to fully deploy the heavier, ship-killing artillery, which fired too slowly.
Wrecks have also yielded poignant personal artifacts, as the book notes. When Belgian diver Robert Sténuit explored the site of the Girona off Northern Ireland in the late 1960s, he retrieved a trove of gold and silver coins, along with a ruby-studded golden pendant in the shape of a salamander, a mythical creature deemed a talisman against fire (but sadly not water). Another find was a ring depicting a hand clasping a heart with the inscription "No Tengo más que darte" -- "I have nothing more to give you."
As ships foundered, exhausted survivors clawed ashore. The luckiest encountered Irish folk who robbed them but spared their lives. Many were less fortunate. Fearing a second Armada, the queen's Lord Deputy, Sir William Fitzwilliam, decreed a ruthless reception: Regardless of rank, the Spanish forces were massacred on the spot or hanged soon after. Months later, distraught relatives and friends of the missing would wander from one port to another seeking to establish their fates.
Of the men who manned the Armada, fewer than half returned to tell the tale. By the authors' estimation, England's death rate was comparable, mostly due to sickness, hunger and exposure. Shamefully neglected by the jubilant Elizabeth and her ministers, English seamen who had fought the Armada were obliged to rely upon charity.
While Philip II stoically accepted defeat as the will of God, Elizabeth and her Dutch allies celebrated the outcome as divine approval for their own cause. In "Armada," Messrs. Martin and Parker eschew taking any side, affording an unprejudiced perspective on an epic confrontation. A similar sense of generous empathy is reflected in the Armada festival staged on Streedagh Strand every September. In a spirit of reconciliation, local people welcome guests from Spain and England alike, planting rows of wooden crosses on the sands to remember men who, far from home, perished there long ago.
Mr. Brumwell's books include the prize-winning "George Washington: Gentleman Warrior."
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发表于 2-2-2023 15:46:29
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