by Henry Kamen
Practical factors, such as the sheer cost of moving around the kingdom, were beginning to distance European rulers from their subjects. Complex ceremonial further helped to isolate the king. Philip was deeply concerned for his people, but had little effective contact with them. He felt that his accessibility on feast-days, which he tried to maintain all his life, was adequate. ‘As you know,’ he pointed out when urged to pay more attention to popular opinion, ‘people talk to me on Sundays and give me petitions.’97 As often as feasible, he had his lunch ‘in public’. But this involved no more than lunching (alone) in one of the large reception rooms of the Alcázar, where members of the court and public might see him.98 It was a practice he urged his son to follow. He made a rule of being accessible to private petitions while going to or from Sunday mass and deliberately walked slowly, so that people would have a chance to catch up with him.99 ‘On all feast days until now,’ a courtier reported in 1583, ‘he has gone out, listening to everybody and accepting their petitions.’100 Though he treated with respect the pieces of paper offered to him on these occasions,101 they were inevitably handed to officials of the respective councils, and got forgotten in the administrative process. ‘When I went to mass today,’ he reported in 1575, ‘I was given this paper for the council of State, but I did not see who gave it.’ It was an anonymous denunciation, but exceptionally he paid attention to it. ‘There could be something in what it says, it could be important.’102
He did not like crowds. He did not like villagers, who had never seen him, treating him as ‘something superhuman’, when the truth was that he was a mere human, ‘with defects of body and spirit’.103 During his visit to Andalusia in 1570, he was jostled by thousands of people. He attempted to avoid them. If they were at the front of a building, he went out by the back. On one occasion he refused to go out at all.104 His opposition to the cult of personality was an extension of his own modesty and austerity. He firmly disallowed any attempts to write his life. He kept his private life totally private. When in 1573 he heard that letters he had written as a child to his old tutor Siliceo were in the possession of people in Toledo, he ordered them to be discreetly (‘without fuss’) gathered up. ‘Even though they are not important,’ he reasoned, ‘it is not reasonable, out of modesty and respect, that they be passed from hand to hand.’105
The ideal ruler for him was Ferdinand the Catholic, who with his queen Isabella had acquired a reputation for being accessible to all. But the fact was that kings, in Spain as elsewhere, were no longer in a position to cultivate the common touch. Their duties inevitably tended to separate them more and more from the public. In any case, personal security had to be assured. Political murder was commonplace in western Europe, and kings were not exempt. An abortive attempt was made on Philip's life in Lisbon in 1581. Thereafter he used greater caution. In 1583 a suspicious Frenchman was followed by officials106 who feared another assassination plot. He was detained, but ‘there is no reason to suspect him’. The murder of Henry III of France some years later, in 1589, horrified opinion in Spain and profoundly worried Philip.
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The king who had travelled extensively through Europe prior to 1560 may have become in later life unsympathetic to travel. ‘Wandering about one's kingdoms for pleasure is neither useful nor becoming,’ he is reported (on doubtful authority) to have said. ‘The prince should have a fixed base.’107 In reality, he was never immobile. Like his great forebears the Catholic kings, he remained regularly on the move. His principal area of movement was within the radius marked out by his palaces and Madrid. But he also travelled through much of the peninsula, more than any subsequent member of his dynasty.
His father the emperor became famous for his extensive travels. Philip, by contrast, has always been considered by historians as the exact reverse. A persistent legend presents him after his return to Spain in 1559, as immured in Castile and in the Escorial. The image was one that the Venetian ambassadors, for example, helped to disseminate. The reality was quite otherwise. Philip was glad to return in 1559, but also (as we have seen from the duke of Feria's testimony) deeply missed the Netherlands. He never reconciled himself to being rooted in one spot. His travel record, in fact, was quite as impressive as that of his father. He spent fourteen months in England, and five long years in the Netherlands. Few historians know that his experience of Germany was based on his presence there for one year and three months. His passage through Italy, lasting several weeks, was certainly influential. He had sailed on both the seas of Spain: the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. The best known of his soujourns was the two years and four months that he spent in Portugal. The Portuguese visit has given rise to the impression that Philip neglected his other realms of Spain. It is therefore timely to emphasise that the king, in total, spent more time in the territories of the crown of Aragon – an astonishing three years – than in any part of his monarchy other than the Netherlands.
In the last ten years, when illness kept him bedridden for long periods, he evidently moved little. In the preceding forty years, by contrast, he never stopped. The image of a cloistered king exists only in legend. In the years up to 1571, Philip and his immediate household moved between the several residences in the central area of Castile. There were eleven of them, ranging from fortresses (the Alcázars of Toledo and Madrid) to substantial palaces (Aranjuez, El Pardo) and country houses (Aceca, Valsaín). In 1564, for example, the king's base was the Alcázar in Madrid, but he made regular excursions of two or three days to go hunting at the Pardo, visited the Escorial from time to time to see how the building was coming on, and spent entire weeks in Valsaín and Aranjuez.108 The summer months of heat tended to be spent, up to 1567, at Valsaín.109 In this year he made the first changes of routine. He spent March in El Pardo, but Holy Week, Easter and most of August at San Lorenzo.110 Progress in building work had made space available for the large number of palace officials who had to accompany him.
From 1571 the palace-monastery at San Lorenzo joined the other residences in the permanent ritual of movement.111 The palaces, hunting-lodges and cottages owned by the crown supplied a network of residences which allowed the royal family to make regular outings to ease the boredom of staying in one place. In May 1572, for instance, Philip informed the queen's chamberlain that his own departure from the Escorial
could be on Monday afternoon for El Pardo, spending Tuesday there, returning on Tuesday to Las Rozas, and on Wednesday morning to El Pardo, then from El Pardo to Galapagar, lunching at Torrelodones. On Thursday [the queen and family] can go to mass, then lunch at La Fresneda, where I will lunch with them, leaving the queen's attendants to go straight to El Escorial where they will dine and sleep that night. This I think will be a good arrangement for the outing.112
The somewhat giddy pace was quite usual. Because of the distances involved, and also because he went accompanied either by his family or by his papers, the king normally travelled in his carriage. For short distances, he continued to travel on horseback.113
He seldom stayed in San Lorenzo, or any other palace, for more than a short time. For him the Escorial was his perfect office, where he could work peacefully, away from administrators, ministers and petitioners. His librarian testified that ‘he completed more business here in one day than in Madrid in four, because of the tranquillity’.114 The family on these occasions was usually encouraged to stay in some other palace, such as the Alcázar of Madrid. But he did not reserve the Escorial only for work. At Pentecost in 1575, for example, he made a special two-week visit there to celebrate his birthday and to entertain Anna. The evening that the royal party arrived, 20 May, Anna arranged for a group of local shepherds to shear their flocks in the traditional way outside her window. They accompanied their efforts with boisterous and indelicate songs, much to the amusement of the king and queen. The shepherds were plied liberally with wine, which further lowered the tone of the songs but increased the general hilarity. The day after his birthday, the king and the young archdukes participated in
a mounted procession through the cloister. The following evening, 23 May, Philip acted as guide to his wife, his daughters, the archdukes and a large court following. He took them proudly through what was going to be his future library: ‘he went along chatting about all the things in the library, showing and explaining them to queen Anna, so that she saw everything fully and at leisure’.115 The first delivery of books had just been made, some 4,000 volumes, from his own collections.116
Despite the separations, at no time in the 1570s was business given precedence over family matters. He was in constant touch with the queen and the children. The queen's chamberlain informed him regularly of every aspect of her household. In the case of Anna, Philip used to write to her about twice a week during separations, and she did the same. When their letters crossed, ‘it was not necessary to write yesterday [he informed her chamberlain] since I have seen the queen's reply to mine; and you may now hand the queen the present letter’.117 Over and above the letters, the royal couple would make regular outings (jornadas) to see each other, and in this way would manage to visit the various palaces in turn.
The king could not afford to stop work completely. When the queen and family came to see him at San Lorenzo on 22 May 1572, he spent most of his time with them; but in the evening he returned to his papers. It was a particularly splendid spring that year, and the outings continued regularly through May and June. After a few days in San Lorenzo, with or without the queen, the king would dash off somewhere else, accompanied by his papers and secretaries. ‘I'm off this afternoon,’ he wrote from San Lorenzo in mid-June that year, ‘because I have things to do in Madrid; the queen can leave tomorrow afternoon, but if they are happy here and she wants to stay longer she may, though I think they will want to go tomorrow.’118
The dutiful balance between work and family was scrupulously observed by Philip. At no time did he neglect one for the other. Nor did Anna necessarily come second. Their daytime duties took them in different directions, but when they were together he made sure of seeing her regularly.119 Appointments with her were respected. ‘Because I have agreed with the queen to go to the country,’ he informed his secretary during a stifling July, ‘I shall not call you at the moment.’120
As he travelled between his duties he ruefully commented on things he was unable to do. Journeying to Madrid in spring 1572, he could not afford to stop and wander through the countryside. ‘I believe that the woods will be beautiful, and regret the many times that I have passed by them without having visited one which they say is particularly attractive. If I ever have the chance I must see it.’121
In the hot summers he did not, as is usually believed, lock himself up in San Lorenzo. The second half of July 1572 he spent in the heat of Madrid, then in early August he moved to the Pardo and from there to San Lorenzo. But in mid-August he was back again in Madrid. The constant movement continued after September, which he spent in San Lorenzo. On 4 October he went off to Madrid. On the fifteenth he went to Aranjuez to spend ten days with his family. On the twenty-fifth he was in the Pardo. Three days later he was back in San Lorenzo. In normal years this pattern of movement was the king's standard routine but by the second half of the reign he preferred to make his Easter retreat at San Lorenzo and tried to spend all the great feast-days there, alternating his stay with visits to other residences. After All Saints', 1 November, he would set off to spend November in El Pardo. At the end of the month he left for Madrid, in order to arrive there by St Andrew's Day, 30 November, when he would celebrate in the company of his knights the founding of the order of the Golden Fleece. The whole Alcázar was usually illuminated and decorated for the brilliant ceremony.122
Even when he was tied down in one place, he contrived to go out into the countryside to lunch. After hours and days of paperwork, he yearned to break free, if only for a while, to relax with his family. ‘When I finish this,’ he wrote after a trying day in San Lorenzo, ‘I shall leave here and go to sleep today at La Fresneda and tomorrow at El Pardo, a round route in order to go through some woods. After that I have to leave San Lorenzo on Friday at two, after lunch.’123 Ambassadors in Madrid interpreted his wish to escape as an urge for solitude. In reality he was simply trying to get away from them.
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The king's family was not like other families, and his domestic life was accordingly different. Since each principal member of the court had a separate household, their day-to-day existence was normally separate. They very seldom, for example, ate together. The king's meals in Madrid were usually taken alone. Business lunches with his secretaries were common. The timing of supper depended entirely on work. Since childhood he had followed a rule, which he stuck to during his absences abroad in the 1550s, of having supper alone every Friday, Saturday and vigil of a feast.
The princess Juana, always relegated to the background by historians because she abstained from any political role after her short regency in 1554–9, was the effective centre of Philip's family circle. When Philip returned to Spain in 1559, she bought a group of houses in the middle of Madrid and directed the building of a small palace-convent which later received the name of Descalzas Reales. Magnificently decorated and furnished, it became her home and retreat. All her energies were dedicated to helping her brother. Philip in his turn lavished affection on her.124 She was the inseparable companion of queens Elizabeth and Anna. In 1572 she fell seriously ill, and never recovered. Her early death, in September 1573 at the age of thirty-eight, was a severe blow to the king, who had leaned on her for advice and affection. Philip was at her bedside when she died. Her last request of him was that he advance Cristóbal de Moura in his service. Years later, in a letter to Moura, Philip referred to their common grief during that ‘night which you remember very well’.125 A splendid marble tomb by Pompeio Leoni, similar to others the artist was to make later for the Escorial, marks her resting-place in the church of the Descalzas.
Of Philip's four wives, two profoundly affected his personal and political life: Elizabeth and Anna. They cannot be consigned to the margins of his activity.126
Elizabeth was a dark-haired, bright-eyed teenager of immense vivacity and energy, which more than made up for her lack of natural beauty. She brought back to Philip the energy of his youth. He devoted time to her, and even discussed his work with her. It is more doubtful if they had any deep emotional relationship.127 All the optimistic reports of love emanate from one source only: the French ambassadors, who were anxious to demonstrate to their government that the marriage was a success. Ambassador Saint-Sulpice was under constant pressure from Catherine de’ Medici to find out when a birth would be announced. At Monzón in November 1563 he broached the issue by assuring the king of ‘the reputation that he has with us of being a good husband’. Philip laughed to hear it. ‘He thanked me for my good wishes, and said he would make efforts to keep up the reputation of him that we have in France.’128
There were still echoes of past loves. In July 1564 the queen was clearly pregnant. But together with her normal symptoms she began to have serious headaches, nausea and fainting. An incident in August 1564 aggravated these reactions and provoked considerable gossip at court. The king and queen were at a palace window in Madrid with princess Juana, waiting for a big reception to commence. The pregnant queen happened to see Philip's recent mistress, the also pregnant Eufrasia de Guzmán, now the princess of Ascoli,129 coming into the palace for the reception, dressed to kill. Her expression changed, she started to bleed from the nose, and had to be taken out. ‘She later sent a message to the king to say she could not go to the reception, and that she was unwell. So the reception was cancelled, though the palace was already full of guests.’130 Elizabeth was seriously ill in bed for three weeks. Philip spent all that first night at her bedside. It may have helped to convince her, though in French circles there was a constant suspicion that the king did not love her. By the end of August she had recovered completely. The illness, however, ended the pregnancy.
The king's relations with
Elizabeth continued to improve after this crisis. In 1565 Saint-Sulpice observed that Philip showed her ‘truly good friendship and perfect goodwill, which makes her as satisfied and happy as she could ever be’. Philip discussed politics with her in the bed-chamber, and talked about his ideas.131 He never in his life shared intimate secrets with men, nor did he ever have a close understanding with any man in his circle. His links with Ruy Gómez were not based on any personal affection. With Elizabeth it was different. Deprived of his mother when barely in his teens, offered an imperfect love by a foster-mother – Estefania Requesens – he seldom saw, the king found in Elizabeth the opportunity for a degree of affection that no other woman had been able to give him.
The confidence that the king deposited in Elizabeth is clear from the way he put the talks at Bayonne in her hands. Her role there was positive, and delighted the king. Shortly after, she was at Valsaín with Philip. ‘Their Majesties go hunting every day,’ reported the French ambassador. ‘In the evening they walk together through the garden and other cool places of the park, in such a manner that their life is one of happiness and good health.’132 At the end of 1565 Elizabeth became pregnant again.
The good news made Philip ‘more in love every day’ (the opinion of the French ambassador)133 with his wife. From February he tried to spend two hours after dinner each evening with her, and also slept at her side every night.134 When she was in labour, ‘during the night of birth-pains and the birth itself, he never left off grasping one of her hands, comforting her and encouraging her the best that he knew or could’.135 Isabel Eugenia, born at Valsaín on 15 August, nearly cost Elizabeth her life. She was ‘within an inch of death’, Fourquevaux reported.136 Though disappointed that it was not a boy, Philip could not conceal his pleasure and called the French ambassador in to see the baby.