Philip, having now completed his arrangements, and surrendered the regency into the hands of his brother-in-law, had no reason longer to postpone his journey. He was accompanied by the duke of Alva, Enriquez, high-admiral of Castile, Ruy Gomez, prince of Eboli, and a long train of persons of the highest rank. There was, besides, a multitude of younger cavaliers of family. The proudest nobles of the land contended for the honor of having their sons take part in the expedition. The number was still further augmented by a body of artists and men of science. The emperor was desirous that Philip should make an appearance that would dazzle the imaginations of the people among whom he passed.

With this brilliant company, Philip began his journey in the autumn of 1548. He took the road to Saragossa, made an excursion to inspect the fortifications of Perpignan, offered up his prayers at the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrat, passed a day or two at Barcelona, enjoying the fête prepared for him in the pleasant citron-gardens of the cardinal of Trent, and thence proceeded to the port of Rosas, where a Genoese fleet, over which proudly waved the imperial banner, was riding at anchor, and awaiting his arrival. It consisted of fifty-eight vessels, furnished by Genoa, Sicily, and Naples, and commanded by the veteran of a hundred battles, the famous Andrew Doria.

Philip encountered some rough weather on his passage to Genoa. The doge and the principal senators came out of port in a magnificent galley to receive him. The prince landed, amidst the roar of cannon from the walls and the adjacent fortifications, and was forthwith conducted to the mansion[{20}] of the Dorias, preëminent, even in this city of palaces, for its architectural splendor.

During his stay in Genoa, Philip received all the attentions which an elegant hospitality could devise. But his hours were not wholly resigned to pleasure. He received, every day, embassies from the different Italian states, one of which came from the pope, Paul the Third, with his nephew, Ottavio Farnese, at its head. Its especial object was to solicit the prince's interest with his father, for the restitution of Parma and Placentia to the Holy See. Philip answered in terms complimentary, indeed, says the historian, "but sufficiently ambiguous as to the essential."[26] He had already learned his first lesson in kingcraft. Not long after, the pope sent him a consecrated sword, and the hat worn by his holiness on Christmas eve, accompanied by an autograph letter, in which, after expatiating on the mystic import of his gift, he expressed his confidence that in Philip he was one day to find the true champion of the Church.

At the end of a fortnight, the royal traveller resumed his journey. He crossed the famous battle-field of Pavia, and was shown the place where Francis the First surrendered himself a prisoner, and where the Spanish ambuscade sallied out and decided the fortune of the day. His bosom swelled with exultation, as he rode over the ground made memorable by the most brilliant victory achieved by his father,—a victory which opened the way to the implacable hatred of his vanquished rival, and to oceans of blood.

From Pavia he passed on to Milan, the flourishing capital of Lombardy,—the fairest portion of the Spanish dominions in Italy. Milan was, at that time, second only to Naples in population. It was second to no city in the elegance of its buildings, the splendor of its aristocracy, the opulence and mechanical ingenuity of its burghers. It was renowned, at the same time, for its delicate fabrics of silk, and its armor, curiously wrought and inlaid with gold and silver. In all the arts of luxury and material civilization, it was unsurpassed by any of the capitals of Christendom.

As the prince approached the suburbs, a countless throng of people came forth to greet him. For fifteen miles before he entered the city, the road was spanned by triumphal arches, garlanded with flowers and fruits, and bearing inscriptions, both in Latin and Italian, filled with praises of the father and prognostics of the future glory of the son. Amidst the concourse were to be seen the noble ladies of Milan, in gay, fantastic cars, shining in silk brocade, and with sumptuous caparisons for their horses. As he drew near the town, two hundred mounted gentlemen came out to escort him into the place. They were clothed in complete mail of the fine Milanese workmanship, and were succeeded by fifty pages in gaudy livery, devoted to especial attendance on the prince's person, during his residence in Milan.

Philip entered the gates under a canopy of state, with the cardinal of Trent on his right hand, and Philibert, prince of Piedmont, on his left. He was received, at the entrance, by the governor of the place, attended by the members of the senate, in their robes of office. The houses which lined the long street through which the procession passed were hung with tapestries, and with paintings of the great Italian masters. The balconies and verandahs were crowded with spectators, eager to behold their future sovereign, and rending the air with their acclamations. The ceremony of reception was closed, in the evening, by a brilliant display of fireworks,—in which the Milanese excelled,—and by a general illumination of the city.

VISIT TO FLANDERS

Philip's time glided away, during his residence at Milan, in a succession of[{21}] banquets, fêtes, and spectacles of every description which the taste and ingenuity of the people could devise for the amusement of their illustrious guest. With none was he more pleased than with the theatrical entertainments, conducted with greater elegance and refinement in Italy than in any of the countries beyond the Alps. Nor was he always a passive spectator at these festivities. He was especially fond of dancing, in which his light and agile figure fitted him to excel. In the society of ladies he lost much of his habitual reserve; and the dignified courtesy of his manners seems to have made a favorable impression on the fair dames of Italy, who were probably not less pleased by the display of his munificence. To the governor's wife, who had entertained him at a splendid ball, he presented a diamond ring worth five thousand ducats; and to her daughter he gave a necklace of rubies worth three thousand. Similar presents, of less value, he bestowed on others of the court, extending his liberality even to the musicians and inferior persons who had contributed to his entertainment. To the churches he gave still more substantial proofs of his generosity. In short, he showed, on all occasions, a munificent spirit worthy of his royal station.