“A great number of people having come one day in a tumultuous manner to a magistrate whose name was Adrian, exclaiming that he ought either to give them food, or deliver the town into the hands of the enemy: ‘I have solemnly sworn,’ he replied, ‘that I will never surrender myself or my fellow–citizens to the cruel and perfidious Spaniard; and I will sooner die than violate my oath. I have no food, else I would give it you. But if my death can be of use to you, take, tear me in pieces, and devour me; I shall die with satisfaction, if I know that by my death I shall for one moment relieve you from your direful necessity.’ By this extraordinary answer, the people, struck with astonishment, were silenced, and their fury was for some time appeased.”[63] In default of a better parallel to the battle of Salamis, we conclude this chapter with the overthrow of the Spanish Armada. The points of resemblance, such as they are, are sufficiently obvious and general, and consist in the magnitude of the interests at stake, in the alacrity shown by the English as well as by the Athenian people, and in the signal defeat of the greater by the less force. We may also direct attention to the circumstance, that in each case the defeated fleet was superior to its antagonist in the bulk no less than the number of its ships, and in each case owed its destruction mainly to that very superiority; the lighter and more manageable vessels proving an over–match for their formidable–looking opponents. The incident, however, is sufficiently striking to deserve notice, even if the resemblance were weaker, and if national vanity called less strongly for its insertion; independently of which we have some pleasure in giving the following high–sounding specimen of a contemporary historian, who has summoned all his powers to match the dignity of his subject by the elevation of his style.