Philip purchased all the land required for the erection of the monastery before the work of clearing it was begun. He took up residence on the site, in rude temporary lodgings, and followed with closest interest every detail of the designing and construction. His chosen architect was Juan Bautista de Toledo, who had studied his art in Rome and Naples. Toledo was a native of Madrid, and in Italy he had made his reputation by designing a palace at Posilipo, and the celebrated Strada di Toledo. He was assisted in planning the Escorial by Lucas de Escalante and Pedro de Tolosa.
The first stone was laid on April 23, 1563. Toledo worked upon the Escorial till 1567, when he died. His scheme embraced the monastery for fifty Hieronymite monks, the royal residence, the burial-chamber, and the church. Juan Bautista de Toledo was succeeded by Juan de Herrera, who enlarged the convent and designed a bell tower. His assistant was Juan de Minjores, who had executed the church of the Alhambra, and planned part of the Alcazar of Seville.
Toledo’s plan was ambitious and eccentric. He was influenced by the Renaissance ideals, and he employed the Doric style in its severest examples. Philip would have no luxurious decorations, no flamboyant effects; everything must be plain to austerity. Some critics have asserted that the simplicity of the Escorial is impressive and noble, while others complain of its rigidity and sombreness. The plan of the building is in the shape of a gridiron, to commemorate, it is surmised, the fate of San Lorenzo, who was roasted on a grid. The handle of the gridiron is represented by the Palace of the Infantas; the monastery, the seminary, and the royal apartments represent the bars of the implement upon which the saint was martyred.
It is evident that the architects were not allowed perfect freedom in their designs. The king constantly inspected their plans, corrected or improved them according to his own ideas, and made numerous suggestions. From his youth Philip had displayed a love of architecture, and there is no doubt that he was personally the inventor of many features of the Escorial. It has been related that he somewhat hampered the designers by his frequent insistence upon severity of style, and by his interference in many details of the work.
The king often repaired to a rock commanding a view of the busy scene beneath, where he would sit for hours, watching the progress made by the great army of craftsmen and toilers. A fear, which was almost morbid, assailed him at the dread thought that he might die before his scheme was brought to its completion. His days were occupied in superintending the tasks of the architects, artists, and decorators, and in pious meditation in his retreat. Sometimes he would roam with his gun, in the surrounding grey wilderness, unattended, and buried in reflection. His relations with the favourite painters of his retinue were of the friendliest order, and he avoided the attitude of the mere patron. With Titian the king was very intimate, and he would sit by the easel of Coello, watching the picture that grew upon the canvas.
The studio of Coello adjoined the royal apartment, and Philip came frequently to converse with the painter. He delighted also in the society of Antonio Moro. To Titian he paid large sums for his services, and when the work was finished the king handsomely pensioned the artist. When Titian died, the pension was continued to his son.
In 1570 Philip married for the fourth time, his bride being Anne of Austria. A year later the queen gave birth to Fernando, who died at Madrid at the age of seven, and was buried in the Escorial. The body of Don John of Austria, natural brother of Philip, was interred beneath the altar of the church in the following year. In 1574 the remains of the illustrious Emperor Charles were transferred to the vaults of the Escorial with much ceremony, and at the same time several other royal coffins were removed to the newly-made royal resting-place. During the solemn service a terrific storm destroyed the dais which had been erected for the ceremony, and the splendid trappings that covered it.
Besides the havoc of hurricanes, the building twice suffered serious injury from fires. The first broke out when the work was almost finished. The cause of the conflagration was a lightning stroke, and the flames raged for several hours, creating consternation among the monks and the other inmates of the edifice. When the fire was subdued, the king had to grieve the destruction of the fine belfry and the loss of a costly peal of bells. Although the fabric was much damaged, no lives were lost, and several sacred relics were recovered uninjured.
The heavy cost of erecting the Escorial increased the amounts paid in taxation, and among the people of Spain there was some discontent with the expenditure. There was also disaffection upon one or two occasions among the mechanics employed upon the building. The cause, or the effect, of this insubordinate feeling was the rumour that Satan in the guise of a hound with wings prowled about the corridors in the dark. A friar hearing certain gruesome sounds during matins, went out to investigate the cause of the disturbance, and discovered a stray dog wandering in the building. The dog was promptly hanged, and his carcass exposed on the exterior of the edifice;—proof positive that the mysterious visits were at an end.
It is interesting to learn that a party of Japanese delegates came to request an audience of Philip in the year 1582. The Jesuits had made several converts in Japan, and it was proposed to ordain some of these as priests. But the papal sanction had to be obtained, and the ruler of Japan sent an embassy to the Pope. Before going to Rome, these representatives came to Spain and paid reverence to Philip, who entertained them cordially.