Imagine a man so convinced of his divine right to rule that he believed his kingdom wasn’t just vast—it was illuminated 24/7 by the sun itself. Enter Felipe II of Spain, the ultimate monarch with a cosmic-sized ego to match his colossal empire. Born in 1527, Felipe wasn’t just any king; he was the king—God’s personal pick to manage the affairs of the mortal world. And he had every reason to think so, with a résumé so glittering it could outshine the treasures of the Americas (which he also happened to own).
Why Did Felipe Think He Was God’s Chosen One?
- Ruler of the World's First Global Empire: By the time Felipe took the throne in 1556, his empire stretched across continents. From the vineyards of Spain to the silver mines of Peru, the spices of the Philippines (named after him!), and even the coastlines of Africa, his dominion was so vast people joked, "The sun never sets on the Spanish Empire."
- Conqueror of Portugal (1580): Not content with one crown, Felipe snagged Portugal’s throne, merging the two Iberian empires. This added Brazil, Angola, and parts of Asia to his portfolio, making him the undisputed landlord of the planet.
- Defender of the Faith: As a devout Catholic, Felipe saw himself as God’s champion against Protestant heretics. He spearheaded the Counter-Reformation, fought the Dutch Revolt, and even launched the Spanish Armada against England in 1588 (though that one didn’t go quite as planned). Still, he was convinced he was doing God’s work, storm or no storm.
- Master of Wealth: Thanks to boatloads of gold and silver pouring in from the Americas, Felipe practically swam in riches. Spain became the world's ATM, and Felipe used it to fund wars, build grand monuments like El Escorial, and maintain an image of divine magnificence.
- The Sun King Before Louis XIV of France: Long before Louis XIV claimed the title, Felipe’s empire already embodied the idea of divine right and celestial authority. He wasn’t just a king—he was the celestial CEO of Earth, managing everything under heaven’s gaze.
- Cultural Patron: During his reign, Spain hit its Golden Age, with luminaries like Cervantes and El Greco shining brightly. Felipe took credit for the flourishing arts and sciences, viewing them as proof of Spain’s—and by extension, his own—divine favor.
The Final Curtain: The World's King Brought Low
For all his power, wealth, and the sheer size of his ego, Felipe II, ruler of half the known world, couldn’t escape the one realm where all are equal: death. In 1598, at the age of 71, Felipe faced his final battle—not against Protestant rebels or rival empires, but against his own failing body. His death was a slow, agonizing decline, lasting 53 long days that turned the mighty monarch into a cautionary tale of human frailty.
Plagued by gout, osteoarthritis, and the relentless march of tertian fevers, Felipe was confined to his bed in the grand palace of El Escorial, the very monument he had built as a symbol of his eternal dominion. But eternity eluded him. His body swelled with dropsy, his skin festered with abscesses, and every joint in his frame burned with torment. He could barely move, and the air of his once-proud chambers reeked of his suffering. Even as priests surrounded him, offering prayers and sacraments, no divine intervention came.
In his final moments, the man who claimed to own the sunlit world learned the humbling truth: no empire, no treasure, no earthly glory could stop the inevitable. The same hands that once signed edicts to shape history now gripped rosary beads, trembling with the fear of what lay beyond.
And so, the King of the World was brought low, his golden crown rendered meaningless in the face of mortality. His empire endured, but its master was gone, proving that no matter how vast your reach, every ruler must one day surrender to the only sovereign who truly governs us all—death.
