History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3

by Henry Thomas Buckle

After the reduction, late in the fifteenth century, of the last Mohammedan kingdom in Spain, the great object of the Spaniards became to convert those whom they had conquered.[1286] They believed that the future welfare of a whole people was at stake; and finding that the exhortations of their clergy had no effect, they had recourse to other means, and persecuted the men they were unable to persuade. By torturing some, by burning others, and by threatening all, they at length succeeded; and we are assured that, after the year 1526, there was no Mohammedan in Spain, who had not been converted to Christianity.[1287] Immense numbers of them were baptized by force; but being baptized, it was held that they belonged to the Church, and were amenable to her discipline.[1288] That discipline was administered by the Inquisition, which, during the rest of the sixteenth century, subjected these new Christians, or Moriscoes, as they were now called,[1289] to the most barbarous treatment. The genuineness of their forced conversion was doubted; it therefore became the business of the Church to inquire into their sincerity.[1290] The civil government lent its aid; and among other enactments, an edict was issued by Philip II. in 1566, ordering the Moriscoes to abandon everything which by the slightest possibility could remind them of their former religion. They were commanded, under severe penalties, to learn Spanish, and to give up all their Arabic books. They were forbidden to read their native language, or to write it, or even to speak it in their own houses. Their ceremonies and their very games were strictly prohibited. They were to indulge in no amusements which had been practised by their fathers; neither were they to wear such clothes as they had been accustomed to. Their women were to go unveiled; and as bathing was a heathenish custom, all public baths were to be destroyed, and even all baths in private houses.[1291]

By these and similar measures,[1292] these unhappy people were at length goaded into rebellion; and in 1568 they took the desperate step of measuring their force against that of the whole Spanish monarchy. The result could hardly be doubted; but the Moriscoes maddened by their sufferings, and fighting for their all, protracted the contest till 1571, when the insurrection was finally put down.[1293] By this unsuccessful effort, they were greatly reduced in numbers and in strength; and, during the remaining twenty-seven years of the reign of Philip II. we hear comparatively little of them. Notwithstanding an occasional outbreak, the old animosities were subsiding, and in the course of time would probably have disappeared. At all events, there was no pretence for violence on the part of the Spaniards, since it was absurd to suppose that the Moriscoes, weakened in every way, humbled, broken, and scattered through the kingdom, could, even if they desired it, effect any thing against the resources of the executive government.

But, after the death of Philip II., that movement began which I have just described, and which, contrary to the course of affairs in other nations, secured to the Spanish clergy in the seventeenth century, more power than they had possessed in the sixteenth. The consequences of this were immediately apparent. The clergy did not think that the steps taken by Philip II. against the Moriscoes were sufficiently decisive; and even during his lifetime they looked forward to a new reign, in which these Christians of doubtful sincerity should be either destroyed or driven from Spain.[1294] While he was on the throne, the prudence of the government restrained in some degree the eagerness of the Church; and the king, following the advice of his ablest ministers, refused to adopt the measures to which he was urged, and to which his own disposition prompted him.[1295] But, under his successor, the clergy, as we have already seen, gained fresh strength, and they soon felt themselves sufficiently powerful to begin another and final crusade against the miserable remains of the Moorish nation.[1296]

The Archbishop of Valencia was the first to take the field. In 1602, this eminent prelate presented a memorial to Philip III. against the Moriscoes; and finding that his views were cordially supported by the clergy, and not discouraged by the crown, he followed up the blow by another memorial having the same object.[1297] The Archbishop, who spoke as one having authority, and who from his rank and position was a natural representative of the Spanish Church, assured the king that all the disasters which had befallen the monarchy, had been caused by the presence of these unbelievers, whom it was now necessary to root out, even as David had done to the Philistines, and Saul to the Amalekites.[1298] He declared that the Armada, which Philip II. sent against England in 1588, had been destroyed, because God would not allow even that pious enterprise to succeed, while those who undertook it, left heretics undisturbed at home. For the same reason, the late expedition to Algiers had failed; it being evidently the will of Heaven that nothing should prosper while Spain was inhabited by apostates.[1299] He, therefore, exhorted the king to exile all the Moriscoes, except some whom he might condemn to work in the galleys, and others who could become slaves, and labour in the mines of America.[1300] This, he added, would make the reign of Philip glorious to all posterity, and would raise his fame far above that of his predecessors, who in this matter had neglected their obvious duty.[1301]

These remonstrances, besides being in accordance with the known views of the Spanish Church, were warmly supported by the personal influence of the Archbishop of Toledo, the primate of Spain. In only one respect did he differ from the views advocated by the Archbishop of Valencia. The Archbishop of Valencia thought that children under seven years of age need not share in the general banishment, but might, without danger to the faith, be separated from their parents, and kept in Spain. To this, the Archbishop of Toledo strongly objected. He was unwilling, he said, to run the risk of pure Christian blood being polluted by infidels; and he declared that sooner than leave one of these unbelievers to corrupt the land, he would have the whole of them, men, women, and children, at once put to the sword.[1302]

That they should all be slain, instead of being banished, was the desire of a powerful party in the Church, who thought that such signal punishment would work good by striking terror into the heretics of every nation. Bleda, the celebrated Dominican, one of the most influential men of his time, wished this to be done, and to be done thoroughly. He said, that, for the sake of example, every Morisco in Spain should have his throat cut, because it was impossible to tell which of them were Christians at heart, and it was enough to leave the matter to God, who knew his own, and who would reward in the next world those who were really Catholics.[1303]

It was evident that the fate of the wretched remnant of a once splendid nation was now sealed. The religious scruples of Philip III. forbade him to struggle with the Church; and his minister Lerma would not risk his own authority by even the show of opposition. In 1609, he announced to the king, that the expulsion of the Moriscoes had become necessary. ‘The resolution,’ replied Philip, ‘is a great one; let it be executed.’[1304] And executed it was, with unflinching barbarity. About one million of the most industrious inhabitants of Spain were hunted out like wild beasts, because the sincerity of their religious opinions was doubtful.[1305] Many were slain, as they approached the coast; others were beaten and plundered; and the majority, in the most wretched plight, sailed for Africa. During the passage, the crew, in many of the ships, rose upon them, butchered the men, ravished the women, and threw the children into the sea. Those who escaped this fate, landed on the coast of Barbary, where they were attacked by the Bedouins, and many of them put to the sword. Others made their way into the desert, and perished from famine. Of the number of lives actually sacrificed, we have no authentic account; but it is said, on very good authority, that in one expedition, in which 140,000 were carried to Africa, upwards of 100,000 suffered death in its most frightful forms within a few months after their expulsion from Spain.[1306]

Now, for the first time, the Church was really triumphant.[1307] For the first time, there was not a heretic to be seen between the Pyrenees and the Straits of Gibraltar. All were orthodox, and all were loyal. Every inhabitant of that great country obeyed the Church, and feared the king. And from this happy combination, it was believed that the prosperity and grandeur of Spain were sure to follow. The name of Philip III. was to be immortal, and posterity would never weary of admiring that heroic act by which the last remains of an infidel race were cast out from the land. Those who had even remotely participated in the glorious consummation, were to be rewarded by the choicest blessings. Themselves, and their families, were under the immediate protection of Heaven. The earth should bear more fruit, and the trees should clap their hands. Instead of the thorn should come up the fir-tree, and instead of the brier, the myrtle. A new era was now inaugurated, in which Spain, purged of her heresy, was to be at ease, and men, living in safety, were to sleep under the shade of their own vineyards, sow their gardens in peace, and eat of the fruit of the trees they had planted.[1308]