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.