1In this new study of Philip II of Spain and the architecture of his vast empire the author makes it clear that it is not intended to be a contribution to the established literature on high-profile buildings such as Philip’s palatial monastery complex of San Lorenzo El Escorial. Instead, she picks four fields that have not previously been studied in any detail, while also, at least as importantly, offering a study of the architecture of the Hispanic world in the sixteenth century in a broader metaphorical sense: Philip’s construction of an idea (my emphasis) of empire with himself as the imperial figurehead. Well-educated, and trained from an early age by his father the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V in the politics of power (he was appointed regent of Spain in 1543 at the age of 16), Philip took his responsibilities very seriously, dedicating his life to strengthening and extending his empire and to building an image of himself as the Christian successor to the emperors of the Roman past. As Fernández-González’s research indicates, Philip developed ways of balancing the public image of power with careful behind-the-scenes diplomacy, working to influence what was happening in all the different parts of the Hispanic universe.

2In the first chapter she explores the legislation Philip passed with a view to introducing visual order into the architecture and urban planning of his territories and, in particular, of Madrid, the rapidly expanding seat of the royal court. Philip’s preferred style was a very pared-down form of classicism, with the emphasis on symmetry, simplicity and solidity. Based on her research, Fernández-González includes some helpful illustrations of hypothetical house facades to demonstrate how regular and how minimalist he wanted these to be. But how to impose this ideal? Philip was not going to fund it directly, so his solution was to exempt homeowners from the requirement to host officials visiting from other parts of the empire if they built their residence in accordance with government specifications. Given that the requirement to host strangers for unspecified lengths of time was presumably costly as well as intrusive, it is perhaps not surprising that many proceeded to build their houses in the approved style. Another interesting detail Fernández-González reveals, and one with a very contemporary ring to it, was that in order to encourage the development of green spaces in the developing urban environment, the city of Madrid provided a tree to any citizen who wanted to plant one on their property and Philip bolstered this by requiring those with a lot of land (over about 650 acres) to plant trees. This type of direct intervention was not possible in the cities across the empire, but the Spanish authorities endeavoured to promote the regular grid-plan layout and the standardized, austere form of architecture with some degree of success. Drawing on the often quite comprehensive replies to the Relaciones Geográficas, the extensive questionnaire sent out in 1577 to the towns and cities in the Spanish territories in the Americas to gather information about their administration, Fernández-González concludes that, at least in the relatively few cities she mentions, while there were local modifications, especially in terms of building materials, there was at least a general shift towards Philip’s preferred designs.

3The second chapter focuses on Philip’s commitment to archives: to preserving paper records of everything that was happening across the Hispanic world. We are given a brief overview of archival history, including beyond his domain, before moving on to Philip’s own royal records of everything he said and did, copies of legislation, details of ceremonies and diplomatic negotiations, and paperwork to and from the imperial territories. In a telling example of Philip’s close attention to detail, we are told that the archivists – carefully selected – had to keep him informed of exactly who had been given access to what information. This exploration of written history is interwoven with a detailed account of its architectural location, and of the expansion of the space in which these papers were housed, in a tower in the fortress of Simancas near Valladolid. Simancas was established as a royal archive by Charles V But, as the empire expanded under Philip, so did the associated paperwork, soon outgrowing its original space. As the author’s research reveals, the king was closely involved in all aspects of this project, overseeing the construction of two austere renaissance-style pavilions at right angles to the original mediaeval tower, and while he rejected suggestions for figurative paintings on the interior, he did ensure that the décor and furnishings, especially the archival storage trunks and cupboards, were of the finest craftsmanship. He also commissioned his own private chambers and required there to be a private entrance so that he could visit without being seen.

4Although Fernández-González is not entirely explicit about this, the third and, to some extent, final chapter consider the reunification of the Iberian peninsula under one ruler, and the determination with which Philip worked to build an image of himself as the successor to the Roman conquerors of the ancient territory of Hispania. In 1580 he achieved this reunification by successfully negotiating a dynastic crisis in Portugal to install himself as king, and so to assume control not just of the whole of the Iberian peninsula but also of the extensive Lusitanian territories around the globe. We are presented with evidence of how he pushed home the point with a magnificent triumphal entry into Lisbon in 1581, coordinated by both Spanish and Portuguese officials, in which (although this is not made explicit) far from the austere architectural style he was promoting for permanent constructions, the emphasis was on extravagant ostentation. Philip entered Lisbon across the Tagus by ship, and then processed on horseback (I presume dressed in full ceremonial armour similar to that in the Titian portrait in the Prado) through fifteen temporary triumphal arches and past all sorts of iconographically rich sculptural installations. There are few contemporary visual records of this event, but the author uses descriptions from archival sources to provide useful hypothetical elevations of some of these ephemeral constructions. The Arch of the German Merchants is particularly flattering to the new king, with a relief over the arch depicting Neptune and Atlas on either side, and Philip in pride of place above them.

5The final chapter begins by revisiting the Escorial to consider the murals that Philip commissioned for the Hall of Battles in 1584. The Hall of Battles is in effect a grand corridor with windows opening onto the palace courtyard along one side and an almost uninterrupted wall, nearly 60 metres long, on the other. The battles represented in the paintings commemorate some of the military successes of Philip’s reign in France and the Netherlands but the exception is that on the long wall. This records the battle of La Higueruela of 1431 in which the Christian forces defeated the Muslims in the Kingdom of Granada. This is the focus of Fernández-González’ attention. She argues that Philip wanted to include this victory because the source for this vast mural – a large painted cloth dating from around the time of the battle – was only rediscovered shortly after he ascended to the throne of Portugal. This in itself is an interesting point and emphasises the importance Philip placed on historical records, but the battle of La Higueruela was not, despite the author’s claim to the contrary, a major turning point in the on-going struggle between Christians and Muslims in Spain. But, frustratingly, we are not offered any further suggestions as to why Philip might have selected this particular battle, the only one predating his own reign; nor why it was commemorated in the Hall of Battles, and on such a vast scale, beyond the implication that it was part of the history of the unification of the Iberian peninsula; nor why, given that he was energetically promoting an image of himself as the Christian equivalent to a Roman emperor of Iberia, there is no depiction of the crucial battle of 1492, when Spain did finally conquer Granada and unify Spain as a Christian country. We simply move, slightly awkwardly, from scenes of battle, via other triumphal entries that celebrated the fame of Philip and his empire, to his death in 1598 and the subsequent grand obsequies enacted around the globe. As in other sections, this in itself is a huge field and the author focuses on just a few, mostly European, examples. The only illustration of these is a contemporary etching of the church of San Lorenzo in Florence, where the entire interior is festooned with drapery, and with richly framed canvases that contemporary accounts describe as representing Philip’s life history and the expanding Christian empire.

6There is no doubt that this study has involved a great deal of original research and offers new information about Philip II and the way in which he both oversaw the construction of buildings in his preferred style and also how he sought to build a powerful image of himself as leader of the Christian world. But it is not an easy read. We move back and forth between the general and the particular, often with considerable repetition of material. The shifting focus between the design and history of specific buildings and the broader theme of the ways in which Philip promoted an image and a history of himself, or as the author puts it, the ways in which these ‘architectural, visual, imperial, and cultural circulations’ moved around the Iberian world, is also often confusing. There is plenty of interesting material here but it would have benefited from a better road map and perhaps a less ambitious title.