great gap opened," said Drake in his letter to
Burghley, "very little to the liking of the King of Spain." That, with
the calm request for orders, was his comment on a feat which changed the
destinies of Europe. At its fullest flood he had stemmed the tide of
Spanish empire. It was no less a thing than that.

A few months ago all Europe had been cowering in confused alarm before
the shadow of a new Roman empire. Ever since the first triumph of
Luther, the cause of Reformation had been Steadily losing ground; on
England and the Low Countries hung its only hope, and with the fall of
Antwerp Europe saw itself on the eve of that "last great battle in the
west" which must decide its fate for centuries. In despair of the
result, each trembling power was trying to hide behind the other; each
was thrusting its neighbor forward to break the coming blow; and Philip
led the cheating till his hour should come. He was bent on crushing
Elizabeth; and then, with one foot on the ruins of her kingdom, he meant
to stamp down his rebellious Netherlands into the gloomy Catholicism in
which his own dark soul was sunk. As the fruit of his splendid
deliberation ripened, he strove to cheat Elizabeth into inactivity by a
hope that peace might yet be purchased by the betrayal of the
Netherlands.

Then in laughing gusts came over the Atlantic the rumors of his
exploits, till the full gale they heralded swept over Europe, whirling
into oblivion a hundred intrigues and bending the prestige of Spain like
a reed. The limitless possibilities of the new-born naval warfare had
been demonstrated, and the lesson startled Europe like a revelation. An
unmeasured force was added to statecraft, and a new power had arisen.
The effect was immediate. Men saw the fountain of Spanish trade at
England's mercy; they knew how narrowly the Plate fleet had escaped, and
a panic palsied Philip's finance. The Bank of Seville broke; that of
Venice was in despair; and the King of Spain, pointed at as a bankrupt,
failed to raise a loan of half a million ducats. Parma was appalled.
With his brilliant capture of Antwerp he had seen himself on the brink
of that great exploit with which he hoped to crown his career; and now,
instead of a host armed at all points for the invasion of England, he
saw around him a broken army it was impossible to supply. In Germany the
Protestant princes raised their heads, and, seeing dawn at last, began
to shake off the lethargy into which despai