A Seventeenth Century Atrocity - Muslim Spain

by Deborah Swift

Seventeenth Century Seville

Seventeenth Century Persecution in Spain

The Spanish Inquisition is associated with the persecution of the Jews but it is not common knowledge that Muslims were also tried and tortured by this institution. During my research trip to Seville I visited the remains of the San Jorge Castle, the place of imprisonment for victims of the regime. There I saw chilling evidence of this persecution, which the Inquisition applied not only to rival faiths to Catholicism but also to mystics of their own faith.

Whereas in seventeenth century England Catholicism was repressed, in Spain Catholics were the ruling majority. To understand the climate of oppression for religious minorities in Spain in 1609, one must look back a few centuries to 1248, when Seville, formerly a Moorish city, fell to Christian armies.

Symbols of Lost Culture
During the following centuries after moorish Spain was conquered, Christians were determined to expand their dominion over Spain, and in 1492 Muslim Granada fell - a momentous day for Christian Europe, a day of rejoicing, but for Muslims it became a day of eternal sorrow. Just as the day is marked by celebrations in Spain, in Morocco black flags are hung out to indicate loss and mourning. Some descendants of those expelled still retain the original 15th century keys of their Andalusian homes as a symbol of their lost culture.

After the conquest of Granada by Christians, the Jewish population was driven out, whilst tolerance was promised to its Moorish citizens. So by the seventeenth century the Moors had become indelibly Spanish. Some were genuine Christian converts, and many, like Sancho Panza’s neighbour Ricote (in Cervantes’ novel Don Quixote), and Luisa in my novel 'A Divided Inheritance', thought of themselves as ‘más cristiano que moro’ (More Christian than Moor).

The Burning of Books
A short period of relatively peaceful co-existence between the Muslims and Christians was shattered when the Archbishop of Granada, Hernando de Talavera, was replaced by the fanatic Cardinal Cisneros, and Muslim religious leaders were persuaded to hand over more than 5,000 priceless books with ornamental bindings, which were then consigned to bonfires. Only a few books on medicine were spared the flames. Unsurprisingly, this event led to an armed response from Muslims in the First Rebellion of the Alpujarras in 1499. By 1502 the monarchy had rescinded the treaty of tolerance and Muslims in Andalusia were forced to convert or leave. Those who converted were called Moriscos, which means “little Moors”.

Many Moriscos professed their allegiance to Christianity while practicing Islam in secret. Every aspect of the Islamic way of life, including the Arabic language, dress and social customs – was condemned as uncivilised and pagan. A person who refused to drink wine or eat pork, or who cooked meat on a Friday might be denounced as a Muslim to the Inquisition. Even practices such as buying couscous, using henna, throwing sweets at a wedding or dancing to the sound of Berber music were un-Christian activities for which a person might be reported to the Inquisition by his neighbour, and obliged to do penance. 

Rebellion
Further repression of the Moriscos resulted in a second Rebellion. Fearing the rebels were conspiring with the Turks of the Ottoman Empire, the uprising was brutally suppressed by Don John of Austria. In a spate of atrocities the town of Galera, to the east of Granada, was razed to the ground and sprinkled with salt, after the slaughter of 2,500 people including 400 women and children. Some 80,000 Moriscos in Granada were forcibly dispersed to other parts of Spain, including Seville. Christians from northern Spain were settled on their empty lands. Ayamena and Nicoloao in my story were displaced from Granada before settling in Seville.

As early as the 16th century The Council of State proposed expulsion as a solution to the on-going Morisco 'problem', for which the previous expulsion of the Jews provided a legal precedent. However, the action was delayed because of Spain’s pressing political concerns abroad and because of the drawbacks of losing so many skilled Muslim labourers from the Spanish working population. Muslim labourers and artisans were responsible for much of the beautiful spanish architecture we admire so much today.

Final Expulsion of 400,000 people

Juan de Ribera, the ageing Archbishop of Valencia, who had initially been a firm believer in missionary work, and the conversion of the Moorish population to Christianity, became in his declining years the chief partisan of expulsion. In a sermon preached on September 27th, 1609, he said that Spanish land would never become fertile again until these heretics (the Moriscos) were expelled. The Duke of Lerma, the corrupt chief minister agreed with him. The new king, Felipe III, known as Phillip the Pious for his supposed religious zeal, finally acquiesced to political pressure and in the expulsions began. The embarkation order was read out in Seville on January 10th 1610. The entire Muslim population, along with anyone who had converted from Islam to Christianity, was ordered to leave Spain on threat of death. By 1613 it is estimated 400,000 people had been forcibly removed in this mass expulsion from Spanish territory.

This little-known part of seventeenth century forms one of the threads of the narrative in my novel, 'A Divided Inheritance'.

Read more in this excellent article by Roger Boase in History Today

Researching Seventeeth Century Seville

It is always difficult for a historical novelist to research a place which is not local to them - my previous book was set in London so I was frequently on the 200 mile train journey from Lancaster to London to visit the libraries and museums  and to look at archival material. You would have thought I would have learnt my lesson, and chosen somewhere local, but the plot of my next novel took me even further afield to Spain - and to Seville.

Seville - 17th Century Port

Seville was enormously important as a trading centre in the 17th Century because it was the only port awarded the royal monopoly for trade with the Spanish American colonies (Las Indias) and the rich assortment of goods they offered. Because of this, merchants from Europe and other trade centres needed to go to Seville to acquire these goods - goods such as spices, exotic fruit and plants, sugar, cocoa, potatoes, tomatoes, pineapples, vanilla, chilli peppers, cochineal, exotic feathers and furs.

At first I was attracted by the sheer opulence of Seville, but soon realised that as with many rich cities it was also plagued by extreme poverty. Every sort of vagabond, beggar, or whore was drawn to the city in the 17th Century in the hope of a small share of its riches. Just the sort of climate in which to set a novel! Spain has always been intensely Catholic and at this time followers of other faiths were persecuted by the Inquisition.  I wanted to contrast this with the repressive anti-Catholic regime of Jacobean London, so knew I needed to research both locations, and always had in mind that my very English lady would travel to (and be amazed by) Seville.

'Triana' by Emilio Sánchez Perrier in the Museo de Bellas Artes, Seville

I was helped enormously by finding 'Aristocrats and Traders: Sevillian Society in the Sixteenth Century' by Ruth Pike. My novel is set just into the 17th Century at the time of the Gunpowder Plot so this was fantastic background. It provided me with census accounts and information about the particular area of Seville I was researching - Triana - the part where artisans had the fire-trades such as sword-making and pottery-firing, crafts kept across the river from the main city in case of an outbreak of fire.

During my research phase I ordered as many books as I could that were in English, including Mary Elizabeth Perry's 'Gender and Disorder in Early Modern Seville' which told me a lot about the treatment of women and the lower classes. 

Perry also wrote a seminal book on moorish women - The Handless Maiden.

Online research and books are all very well, but eventually I did have to make the research trip, and try to glean as much as I could about the old Seville, buried beneath the modern city. A visit allows you to record things that other people might miss - such as what you are walking on. Here - some photos I took of tiled floors with moorish designs. The herringbone brick with 'olambrillos' (decorative ceramic squares) was particularly common in the 17th century.

It was fantastic to see so many buildings still well-preserved, and to soak up the heat and the atmosphere of Catholic Spain. This was something that is not obvious unless you go there - the sheer number of weeping madonnas in shop windows, the many hidden churches in courtyards with leather flaps over the doors to protect the icons from the sun. A bonus was to see the Inquisition Museum, which is very tastefully done despite its grim subject matter, and to visit the Golden Tower where I was able to take phographs of a huge map of 17th Century Seville that is not available online. The slightly blurred photographs are because I had to take the pictures through the top of a glass cabinet.

On my return I had lots of leaflets and booklets which needed to be translated my by local Spanish teacher so I could understand them as my Spanish is very limited!

It's expensive to travel abroad, but is it worth it? Absolutely. Not only did I have a fantastic holiday where I was able to have romantic evenings with my husband, eating Tapas at a little pavement cafe under the orange trees, or watching Flamenco, but also the visit later allowed me to 'live' in 17th Century Seville when I was writing. Here I am at the Alcazar, sitting on tiles that could possibly have been made in the 17th century in Triana, Seville.

My novel set in Jacobean London and Golden Age Seville is A Divided Inheritance, more about it can be found on my website.