Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Book Review: The Armada by Garrett Mattingly

As you can well imagine, most of my time is now given over to reading and writing for class.  I don't imagine that too many of the books I'll be reading will be of general interest, but since this particular book fits that bill, I thought I'd share a review I wrote recently:

Garrett Mattingly's The Armada is not only an account of the famous defeat of the Spanish Armada by the English, but of the entire political and religious drama in Europe that coincided with and gave rise to the battle. It is, therefore, a work not only of military history, but also of political, religious, and even gender history. Thanks to Mattingly’s narrative style, The Armada integrates all of these genres of history and succeeds as truly great popular history: accessible and interesting not merely to the academic, but to a broad audience (pg. vii).

Obviously, any book on the defeat of the Spanish Armada should be able to qualify as military history, but The Armada is not merely a recounting of the details of the fleets’ engagement. Mattingly also outlines Parma and Phillip’s diverging plans for the invasion, as well as Drake and Elizabeth’s plans for defending England (pg. 41-48; 76-79; 85; 88-92). Sufficient attention is also paid to the evolution of shipbuilding and design (pg. 196), the tactics of using long-range weapons (pg. 312), the famed crescent formation of the Spanish Armada (pg. 275), and the place of ship-boarding in the English and Spanish strategies (pg. 280).

But true to his conviction that the battle should be seen as part of a total war, Mattingly also places the naval engagement in the context of, and describes carefully, the corollary military preparations and conflicts that occurred on land. Among others, these include the Battle at Coutras between the Henries (pg. 153-157), Parma’s campaigns in the Netherlands (pg. 130-145), and the English preparations for Parma’s invasion (pg. 342-351). Ultimately, Mattingly makes the case that his narrative is significant for military history because the battle marked “the beginning of a new era in naval warfare” (pg. 277). “No naval campaign in previous history,” he writes, “and none afterward until the advent of the aircraft carrier, involved so many fresh and incalculable factors” (pg. 262).

The Armada is also a work of political and diplomatic history. From the beginning, Mattingly states that the events in his narrative are significant “not just as a naval duel between Spain and England, but as the focus of the first great international crisis in modern history” (vi). And so the story begins with the contest between Elizabeth and Mary for the throne of England (pg. 6-28) and is set in motion by the various reactions, in Spain, Rome, and France, to Mary’s execution. Mattingly then convincingly shows how the rivalry between the three Henries for the kingship of France (pg. 218-244), the murder of Henry of Guise (pg. 377), the work of English Catholic exiles in Rome (pg. 56-68) and several other political strands are all interwoven. In particular, Mattingly explores the ways in which the Spanish, especially through the diplomacy and espionage of Bernardino de Mendoza, manipulated religious and political forces to advance the Enterprise of England (pg. 40, 52, 148).



A case can even be made that The Armada is concerned with gender history. While never addressing such concerns head-on, Mattingly regularly mentions the impact that gender roles played in Elizabeth’s reign (pg. 3, 11), especially in her decision making (pg. 23), and in her execution of battle strategy (pg. 27, 85). But for the careful reader, The Armada also deals with gender roles and masculinity when Mattingly makes frequent note of the “romance of chivalry” (pg. 108) which motivated his combatants (pg. 84, 278), and when he alludes to Henry of Valois’ sexual orientation (pg. 33, 150, 181) and the ways this affected public perception of his reign.

Taking Mattingly at his word, The Armada’s classification as a work of religious history must be given particular attention. Mattingly notes from the beginning that all of Europe saw “the clash of the English and Spanish fleets in the Channel as the beginning of Armageddon, of a final struggle to the death between the forces of light and the forces of darkness” (pg. v). Mattingly’s narrative is launched with the ‘martyrdom’ of Mary Queen of Scots (pg. 50-57) and at every turn, from Mendoza’s support of the Holy League (pg. 30), to Sir William Stanley’s defection (pg. 49), to the quasi-millennialism that marked Europe’s anticipation of 1588 A.D. (pg. 175), religious faith is clearly one of the most important motivations for all of the book’s actors.

It is little surprise, therefore, that when Mattingly comes to evaluate the lasting importance of the Armada’s defeat, he first notes that, “of all the kinds of war, a crusade, a total war against a system of ideas, is the hardest to win,” and that therefore, “by its very nature, the war between Spain and England was likely to be indecisive” (pg. 399). Still, in the end, Mattingly states that, “the defeat of the Spanish Armada really was decisive.” The battle’s lasting significance was that “it decided that religious unity was not to be reimposed by force” (pg. 401).

As should be clear, Mattingly wrote The Armada with an eye toward military, political, religious and gender histories. But to attempt to classify The Armada in any one of these genres exclusively is to lose sight of the book’s true strength. Mattingly is able to expertly integrate all of these various historical foci precisely because he artfully employs a narrative approach to history. This integrated narrative and his attention to style also make The Armada accessible to a broad audience.

Mattingly paints vivid pictures with often-beautiful descriptions of people and scenes, all without weighing down his prose with flowery language. Like a novelist, he uses a short chapter format, and focuses on key episodes, often building tension within a chapter and ending with a flourish of surprise, or leaving the reader in suspense between chapters (pgs. 231, 313). Refraining from excessively technical language, he employs anecdotes (pg. 265) and legends (see pg. 285), giving personality to the events he recounts. And perhaps most importantly, Mattingly employs a biographical focus in his narrative, hanging the discussion of historical events on the portraits he draws of great figures such as Elizabeth I, Philip II, Sixtus V, Henry III, Henry of Navarre, Henry Guise, the Duke of Parma, Sir Francis Drake, Bernardino de Mendoza, and the Duke of Medina Sidonia, among others. Admirably, Mattingly portrays these characters sympathetically, which is not only fair to them as historical figures, but further serves to draw the reader into the drama.

Regardless of whether one reads The Armada with a general interest in history, or with a professional interest in political, religious or military history, one cannot help but appreciate the achievement it represents. Mattingly brings his events and actors to life, illuminates his characters’ motivations, and makes clear the complex circumstances that lead to the creation, and ultimately the defeat, of the Spanish Armada.

(Mattingly, Garrett. The Armada. Boston: Mariner Books - Houghton Mifflin Company, 2005.)

© Rev. Stephen M. Koeth, C.S.C.

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