Origins of Inquisition in 15th Century Spain 0679410651

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The Origins of the Inquisition in Fifteenth Century Spain

B. NETANYAHU

Thomas J. Bata Library

TRENT UNIVERSITY P€T£RBOROUGH, ONTARIO

RANDOM NEW

HOUSE

YORK

V\)

V o, c\ r

Copyright © 1995 by Benzion Netanyahu All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Netanyahu, B. (Benzion) The origins of the Inquisition in fifteenth century Spain / B. Netanyahu, p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-679-41065-1 1. Inquisition—Spain. 2. Converts from Judaism—History. 3. Jews—Spain—History. 4. Antisemitism—Spain—History. I. Title. BX1735.N48 1992 272'.2'o94~ ns >ews n tt»e

evolution of Europe s economo Narbonne con.c rev am rtmceceuetraet mtue m the hisron of European Jewry Xecoenizmg me sen ices rendered nr -me Jew’s in relieving rhe economic distress of bus empire. Cnanes rot .me notice of the decrees enacted agams: the Jew? bv the Cnnstiat Be©nttawra and, with minor concessions to Church law’s and prmcmies.. granted -r»f- hewt of Narbonne basic freedoms and the full protecDor. aftes

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same rights and privileges were soon extended by him, as well as by his heir Louis T, to all other Jews who wished to trade in their realms; and thus Narbonne's Jews became instrumental in reopening the West to renewed Jewish life. What is more, the West in which the Jews now resettled included not only the realms of Gaul but also those of the Holy Roman Empire. Here, indeed, even more than in France, the Jews enjoved prospentv and peace for three centuries and more.

m It did not take long before Charles’ novel—indeed revolutionary—policy toward the Jews produced a notable effect on Christian Spain. The capture or Barcelona by the F rankish forces must have drawn to the citv a number or Jews from N'arbonne and other Septimanian towns who came there in¬ tending to start or advance new mercantile protects. It is possible that thev found there at least part of the community that had lived in Barcelona under the Moslems, for the Franks, it is certain, did not order the Jews to leave the city after they had conquered it. In anv case, fudging bv at least two sources, a Jewish community existed in Barcelona probablv as earlv as 82 c. It was apparently the first Jewish community' in anv part of Spam under Christian concrot. and the way it was treated by the empire's authorities must have ast: ended the Spanish Caristtans. If Alrbnso II. king of the Asturias -98-802 . looked with admiration at Charles the Great as the future deliverer of Spam from Moslem bondage, he inevitably contemplated with no .ittie wonder the internal regime or the Frankish empire. It must have occurred to him that if die Jews could be so helpful to and so highly regarded bv the great Christian sing as to make him forgo almost all the old laws that had been enacted against them, they might also be of assistance to him and his hard-pressed kingdom, then righting for its life. In brief we believe it safe to assume that the favorable treatment of the Jews of Barcelona bv the authorities of the northern empire served as a model for the treatment of the Tews of Spam bv the Christian Spanish sovereigns. ^ e do not enow whether Jewish settlement in Asturias began as earlv as riie davs ot Alfonso II. but there is no doubt that it started not long thereafter, perhaps already' in the davs of Ordoiio l (8yo-866). but certainly m those of .Alonso III 866—909 F° In anv case, if it expanded as it did. it was due not oniv to the influence of the “model ”, but also, and primarily, to the services me Jews rendered to the Spanish rulers and their newborn kingdoms. Indeed, these services were more varied and manifold, and certainly no less viral to meir coon cries, than those thev offered to the kings of Gaul Li discussing the functions fulfilled bv Spains lews during the period of riie Reconquest, the Spanish historian Sanchez-A bomaz refers to their share

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in repopulating the places captured by the Christian warriors from the Moors. “The urgencies of the Reconquest and the repopulation,” he says, “determined the Jewish policies of the Christian Kings”; for “when it was necessary to populate a city that had been gained from the enemy, the devil in person would have been well received in it as repopulator.”21 When Alfonso VII, the same author reminds us, captured Oreja in 1139, he invited as settlers “every class of delinquents, homicides and abductors and even those who incurred royal ire . . . save traitors. With how much greater pleasure would he accept the industrious Jews!”22 We may be forgiven if we suspect Sanchez-Albornoz, who is well-known for his anti-Jewish bias, to have made his remark about the “devil in person” as a sideline justification of the noble king’s decision to invite Jewish settlers to his kingdom; but the stress he laid on the scarcity of repopulators is in full accord with historical reality—except that we should add that the scarcity of settlers, and the pressing need to find them, was felt not only in the days of Alfonso VII but also in those of Alfonso III, as well as a considerable time before that. This is another reason why we believe thatjewish settlement in the “reconquered” localities had already begun in the middle of the ninth century and that the document from Coimbra (900) indicates not only what occurred then and there, but also earlier in other captured towns. Indeed, just as the need for “repopulators” was pressing long before Alfonso Ill’s reign, it was felt, in various degrees, also after it—in fact, to the end of the main period of the Reconquest (that is, until 1252).23 This is largely true of Spain’s other needs, many of which were met by the Jews to a greater or lesser extent. Accord¬ ingly, what we shall say later on about the Jewish contribution to Christian Spain applies to the entire period. In assessing that contribution, we ought to bear in mind that when the kings sought “repopulators,” they were looking first of all for men who could bear arms and were capable of defending the newly conquered places. We should also note that Christian Spain was at war with an enemy which, for long periods, was far superior in both manpower and resources, and this superiority encouraged the Moslems to harass the Spaniards and provoke new conflicts. Especially exposed to Moslem raids and incursions were the Christian frontier outposts, which were often poorly manned and inade¬ quately fortified, and thejews, who came to live in these places, realized that they would have to take part in their defense. Indeed, they committed themselves to the task, and in some places formed the sole or main force that bore the brunt of the attacks. This was especially the case in fortresses which were placed by the kings in their exclusive custody and which they under¬ took to settle and guard.24 Later on, when their numbers increased, thejews also took part in the campaigns of the Reconquest, either in separate military units or through individual enlistments. Evidence of this comes from various

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quarters—Moslem, Christian and Jewish—covering the long period of Cas¬ tile’s Reconquest from Alfonso VI to Fernando III.25 By this we do not mean to suggest that the Jews constituted a major factor in the Christian-Moslem military struggle that unfolded in Spain in those centuries; but we do mean to emphasize that they took part in that struggle more than we have generally been led to believe and that they shared with the Christian Spaniards the burden of Spain’s war of liberation. What cannot be gauged even roughly, however, is the total effect of their military contri¬ bution, since the sources offer no solid ground for any such assessment. Nevertheless, one ought to bear in mind that in all life-and-death military clashes, when the adversaries involved strain their efforts to the limit, any addition or detraction of strength may determine the outcome. In the long history of the Reconquest, many such crucial clashes occurred, and therefore it is not at all excluded that, in certain critical situations, the Jews’ contribu¬ tion to the Spanish war effort, however small compared to the Christians’, may have made the difference. In any case, Christian Spain was for the Jews not just a trading post and a land to settle in, from which they could derive only peacetime benefits. It was also a land that confronted them with dangers akin to those faced by the Christian Spaniards. Yet the Jews’ chief contribution to Spain and its rulers was not in the military but in the economic field. At a time when most able-bodied Chris¬ tians in the north were engaged in fighting the battles of the Reconquest, there were not enough Christians to garrison the forts taken, often half destroyed, from the Moors; and even smaller was the number of Christians who were willing to perform that difficult task at their expense. Such people, however, were precisely the kind with whom the kings wished to populate those places. Unable to support a paid regular army, they sought soldiers who could draw their living from the soil by working the fields adjacent to their fortresses or from some manual art in which they were trained. Like their Christian neighbors, therefore, the Jewish settlers in those places cultivated the arable land around them—that is, outside their fortifications—and tried to derive from it whatever food they could. But no less was the effort they devoted to the practice of various manual arts. Craftsmen, in fact, were eagerly sought, not only because they were able to sustain themselves, but also because they could meet vital needs of the defensive forces. Above all, they could keep the clothes, weapons, and other equipment of the troops in good shape so that the latter would be ready for battle. Here indeed thejews were especially useful. For the Christians, having long been devoted to the war, were woefully short of trained craftsmen, while the Jews, who came from civil surroundings, had them in impressive numbers.26 Agriculture and manual trades thus formed the main occupations of these Jewish settlers, but there was also a third sphere of activity that inevitably

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attracted their attention. For neither the farmers nor the artisans could perform any of their tasks without supplies; and the Christian settlers could not meet this need, which was obviously a requisite for their continued stay. It was, however, met by another group of Jews, who arranged for a steady flow of commodities to the reconquered areas and military bases. And thus, the Jewish settlers offered Christian Spain, both its authorities and its frontier population, not only soldiers, farmers, and craftsmen but also merchants and suppliers of goods. Directly or indirectly, the latter formed part of the great commercial net the Jews had spread over a large part of the world.27 Americo Castro, who noted the paucity of Christian activity in craftsman¬ ship and commerce for long periods of the medieval era, said that the “diligent Jews occupied the place vacated by the Christians in the life of the nation” and that they thus “constituted the economic base of the peninsular medieval society.”28 This statement may apply to the earlier rather than the later periods and to those Christian artisans who abandoned their trades while dedicating themselves to the art of war. But insofar as commerce was concerned, the place of the Christians was not “vacated” in this field, since the great majority of the Christian repopulators had not occupied it to begin with. The free Christian peasants and small proprietors who distinguished themselves in fighting the Moors, and thus earned the king’s decision to make them ciudadanos (i.e., burghers) and grant them tracts of land, buildings, and rights, had never been engaged in commercial activity. What occurred in their case with respect to commerce illustrates the rule observed by Wilhelm Roscher, according to which many societies, in certain early stages of their history, “permitted a foreign people of superior cultural standing to provide for their commercial needs. Then the native people, as they matured, sought to free themselves from the tutelage.” Their efforts to shake off the foreign controls, adds Roscher, “were often accompanied by fierce struggle.”29 This is indeed what happened in Christian Spain in the earlier centuries of the Reconquest.30 It would be wrong, however, to assume that the Jews’ work in the above professions constituted the limit of their participation in Spanish life. To be sure, in the earlier stages of the Reconquest the Jews labored primarily in basic economic fields. But later their efforts rapidly expanded to embrace a large variety of spheres. What Bofarull pointed out with respect to their activities in Barcelona in the nth, 12th and 13th centuries31 may apply to most of Spain’s cities and regions, and to some of them even later, too. Thus we see the Jews offer Christian Spain, besides the military aid referred to, not only farmers, artisans and merchants, but also physicians, land surveyors, engineers, mathematicians, salt miners, tax collectors, tax farmers, adminis¬ trators, translators, diplomatic emissaries, and functionaries in a variety of other professions, in which they excelled and kept perfecting themselves

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from generation to generation. Most of these professions were of tremendous value to the development of Spain’s economy, to its fiscal administration, to its diplomatic efforts and to its military accomplishments. Is it any wonder that the kings invited these newcomers to the newly occupied towns, “offer¬ ing them houses and even whole boroughs, granting them judicial guarantees and conceding them administrative and judicial autonomy?”32 Similarly, one can readily understand why, far from persecuting the Jewish communities they had found in the conquered Moorish towns, they did their utmost to induce them to stay in these towns along with the new Christian settlers.”33 Thus it was not the mere “industriousness” of the Jews but their know¬ how in many fields that was vital for the state—as well as the other qualities they possessed, such as their loyalty, reliability and devotion to their task— that moved the Christian kings to court the Jews and accept them in unlim¬ ited numbers. That the kings knew how to appreciate the unique and multifold contribution of the Jews to their administration—and, more broadly, to the country as a whole—is evident not only from the protection they gave them, and the special rights and privileges they granted them, but also from the variety of high offices they offered them in almost all the departments of their government. In adopting this practice, Christian Spain may have followed a pattern suggested by Moslem rulers in the peninsula, who had appointed some outstandingjewish individuals to the highest posi¬ tions of government. But what happened in Moslem Spain only occasionally, and for a relatively short period, occurred in Christian Spain rather regu¬ larly—and for a very long time. Thus, we can note that for three hundred years (from approximately 1075), there was not a reign in Castile in which Jews did not occupy high offices in the royal administration—above all, in diplomacy and finance. The names Ferrizuel (in the days of Alfonso VI), Yehuda Ibn Ezra (in the time of Alfonso VII), Avenxuxen (in the period of Alfonso VIII), Don C^ulema (in the reign of Fernando III), and other names from those and later times, clearly attest this pattern.34 Indeed, in no other country in the medieval era did the Jews play such a major part in the management of the royal finances—and, directly and indirectly, also in other departments of the royal administration—as they did in medieval Christian Spain. Nor did they gain anywhere else so many signs of recognition and appreciation of their services, expressed in special rights, grants of property, and other gifts of perpetual income, as they did in Spain between 1000 and 1252. Thus, for Spanish Jewry this was a period of establishment, rapid growth, and steady rise in status and influence, with the support of the kings and the grandees—a period which may be characterized as the happiest in their long history in the Iberian peninsula.

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IV

And yet it would be wrong to assume that even in that period the Jews of Christian Spain could steadily, or even frequently, enjoy the sensations of freedom and security characteristic of societies in which mutual toleration and basically friendly attitudes prevail. However strong their belief in the solidity and durability of the social and political structure that sheltered them, they could not help being terrified from time to time by occurrences threatening their very existence. For despite the seemingly serene surface of their social and economic life, the earth beneath them was constantly trem¬ bling, and from time to time the tremors were followed by eruptions that claimed many victims. Such were the massacre in Castrojeriz in 1035; the pogroms in Toledo, Escalona and other towns in 1109; and again the pogrom in Leon in 1230. To understand this unrest and the disturbances it produced, we ought to consider several additional factors, and especially those that governed the relations between the Jews and the Spanish people. What we must first bear in mind is that the Christian Spain with which the Jews negotiated the terms of their resettlement was not the Spain of the common people. It was the Spain of kings, princes and grandees who, the Jews believed, owned the land and all its assets to dispose of in any way they wished. Actually, the situation was far more complex and, in addition, was constantly affected by the growing pressure of the rulers’ subjects. To be sure, the kings’ orders went a long way to shape popular behavior toward the Jews; and the multifarious aid the Jews extended to the Christians in the early phases of their life as neighbors did much to assuage the people’s animus for the Jews and lessen the distrust they had commonly felt for them. Yet this period of peaceful symbiosis was bound to be affected by the changing circumstances. Its duration was not uniform in all places and depended on the local state of affairs. But generally, it tended to be rather short, with its approaching end usually signaled by mounting tensions between Jews and Spaniards. Eventually toleration, however obligatory, turned into open intol¬ erance. 1 he causes of this transmutation of attitudes were inherent in the nature of things—that is, in the condition of the Jews as a minority group within the great majority of the native Spaniards. This condition of course was not peculiar to Spain but common to the whole of medieval Europe, and in large measure, though in lesser intensity, to many countries beyond Europe as well. Pointing to the root cause of the antagonism that evolved toward the Jews in the medieval West, Baron defined it as the “alienage of the Jews,” which was generally viewed as irreversible. “In the mental picture of most medieval men,” he wrote, “the Jew appeared as a permanent stranger.”3S This is undoubtedly a correct observation which touches the key issue of Jewish

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life in the Middle Ages. But it has to be amplified: The Jew was seen as a “permanent stranger” not only by non-Jews but by the Jews themselves.36 It was the coincidence of both views—the Jewish and non-Jewish—that was largely responsible for the resultant condition, equally well noted and de¬ fined by Baron, that the “Jewish community was a corporate body . . . consisting of a group of permanent ‘aliens,’ ” who were ‘‘essentially living apart” from the Christian society}1 The concluding part of this definition requires, we believe, some elucida¬ tion—at least insofar as it touches the second cycle ofjewish life in Christian Spain. That the Jews lived apart from the Christian society in all that related to their religious conduct may be taken as a matter of course. But they also lived apart from that society politically—that is, if we view the “city” as the main habitat of the Jews and recall that the Jews took no part in its adminis¬ tration, nor demanded to have any share in it. Furthermore, since the Jewish community in Spain was not subject to the city’s jurisdiction, it lived apart from the Christians judicially as well; and accordingly, while conflicts among its own members were settled by its own courts, conflicts between Jews and Christian commoners were settled by special judges chosen by the king.38 In addition, they lived apart from the Christians insofar as their fiscal obligations were concerned; for the Jews paid most of their taxes to the king and little to the cities in which they dwelt. Finally, they lived apart from the Christians also in the narrow territorial sense, since they usually sojourned in welldefined neighborhoods especially assigned for their habitation. It was only in the economic field that the Jews did not live—or wish to live—apart from the Christians; for in this sphere, separation would put an end to their economic activity and abolish the conditions that enabled them to exist. In time, as we shall see, the Christian Spaniards manifested a tendency to restrict, if not totally cut off also their economic ties to the Jews. The origin of the tendency must be ascribed to the same cause—the alienage of the Jews—that led to their exclusion from other major spheres of the nation’s life. Like all strangers, the Jews were tolerated in some measure as long as their special skills and functions were considered helpful to the majority. But when the tasks performed by the Jews could be accomplished also by certain Christian Spaniards, the activity of the Jews appeared not only superfluous but also disturbing and hurtful. In consequence, the Jews’ success would produce only jealousy; their competition, increased antagonism; and their success and competition, taken together, outbreaks of hatred that proved hard to suppress. What contributed to this development, apart from eco¬ nomic rivalry, was a periodic shortage of funding, which hampered the Christians’ activity. As latecomers to their fields, the Christian craftsmen and small merchants, lacking superior training and experience, could not for some time earn enough to save up for times of stress. This was one reason

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they incurred debts, which they often could not pay and only worsened their situation; but they fell into debt for other reasons, too, as we shall see below. It was the part of the people that was faced with these hardships—mostly of the lower and some of the middle class—that raised the most violent battle cries against the Jews; it was they who carried the war against the Jews with fire and sword into the Jewish neighborhoods; and it was they who finally moved the authorities to settle the Jewish question along the lines they recommended, or rather demanded by their spokesmen. If this effort to oust the Jews from Spain’s economy, and thereby from the life of the Spanish people, took almost four centuries to accomplish—in fact, until the Jews’ expulsion from Spain—it was due to the strength of the Spanish monarchy, which shielded the Jews with exceptional steadfastness. To be sure, from 1250 on the kings frequently withdrew, under pressure of the masses, from some of their traditional positions, but these withdrawals were in most cases tactical and usually corrected after a short time. On the whole, the people had their way only when the royal power disappeared (through death) or became ineffective (through an interregnum). Thus, the pogrom that erupted in Castrojeriz in 1035 occurred shortly after the death of King Sancho the Great; the pogroms that broke out in Toledo, Escalona and other cities in 1109 occurred after the death of Alfonso VI; and the one that took place in Leon in 1230 followed the death of Alfonso IX, king of Leon. Shortly thereafter, once the monarchy was reestablished, the pro-Jewish policy was reinstated and the vigorous defense of the Jews was resumed.

V At this point a few brief remarks are called for on a well-known theory that has influenced many works touching the evolution ofjewish economy in the Middle Ages. According to this theory, the leading occupations in which the Jews engaged in the medieval era were taken up not by their own choice but under pressures applied by hostile princes or regimes. Accordingly, the Jews embarked on international trade because they were forced out of agriculture, and then embarked on moneylending and banking when they were forced out of international trade. The theory, however, is only partly valid; it is true for some periods in certain regions, but not for all periods and all parts of Europe; and certainly it cannot be substantiated for the beginnings of most of the indicated courses. On the whole, the process was not that passive; it was also a result of calculated choices, of the seizure by the Jews of economic opportunities suddenly provided by changing circumstances. Thus, the Jews shifted from profession to profession not only when the one they held appeared precarious, or became forbidden by the country’s law, but because

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the one they adopted was more in demand, and hence more lucrative, and hence more likely to serve their ends. This is what happened especially in Spain with respect to moneylending and tax collection—the two occupations that became in the 12th century the most salient features of the economic and social life of Spanish Jewry. Manuel Colmeiro and other Spanish scholars who recognized the indis¬ pensability of credit for the economic development of all societies found it possible to denounce, without reservation, the evils of the “Jewish usury,” which they attributed to the natural tendencies of the Jews.39 We see in such assertions no explanations but merely reflections of traditional prejudices, which bring us no nearer to, but rather remove us, from the heart of the problem. In pursuing this subject, we must note, to begin with, that moneylending in Spain at no time embraced such a large section of the Jewish community as it did in France or in England, and that most Spanish Jews who engaged in it (at least, to the end of the 14th century) belonged to the lower classes. While the hunger for credit was universal, in Spain it was felt most acutely in the cities among the Christian artisans and small merchants, whose number increased with the urban expansion and who needed, to withstand the growing competition, new instruments, more goods and better facilities, for whose acquisition they required capital. As Church law forbade Chris¬ tians to lend money at interest and no Christian would lend them money gratis, such artisans or merchants would often turn to the nearest and only available source they knew—their Jewish neighbors, who were often en¬ gaged in the same profession at a higher economic level. These usually preceded the Christians in practicing certain trades and professions and managed to save, by their thrift and hard labor, considerable sums of money. To risk these savings by lending them to poor Christians without receiving adequate securities was certainly not an attractive proposition. Such securi¬ ties were indeed obtained by pawns or contracts authorized by government, but their realization was not always free of trouble. The real attraction was the chance of high profits—and this is how the process began. The first point to realize, then, is that in Spain—i.e., in both Castile and Aragon—most borrowers were “small people,” while most lenders belonged to the lower middle class. In the pogroms perpetrated in Segovia and Avila in 1368 (during the Civil War), the pogromists took care to destroy the documents recording their indebtedness to Jews, or to recover whatever they had given as security to their moneylenders.40 Similarly, during the pogrom in Barcelona in August 1391, the “small people” forced the bailiff of the city to give them the documents he kept at his disposal, which indicated the sums they owed to Jews.41 The pogromists, “small people,” were usually artisans and other members of the lower classes. The loans they would receive would

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inevitably be small, and the rich would have no interest in granting them. Only small Jewish merchants and artisans, who needed extra money to supplement their income, would be the natural lenders to such clients.42 This does not mean that some Jews who belonged to the higher classes did not engage in moneylending or that exorbitant rates of interest were not exacted, especially in the early period. As with all commodities, the cost of money fluctuated in accordance with the law of supply and demand, and the main fault lay, as was pointed out by Vives, in the “incapacity of the Castilian burgher class to create banks and bank deposits” that would supply credit at much lower rates of interest.43 Later on, when the government intervened (during the reign of Alfonso X) and reduced the rate of interest to 25 percent, the situation was somewhat relieved, but not settled. Bankruptcies continued, and so did the criticisms that compelled the government to intervene again with moratoria on loans and other measures. Finally, in the Cortes of Alcala (1348), Alfonso XI completely prohibited lending money at interest; but this proved to be no solution either. A few years later, the procurators requested the restoration of Jewish moneylending to Christians on the terms that prevailed before the prohibition.44 Evidently, Jewish credit was helpful to many and not as ruinous as it had been described. It is questionable to what extent all this concerned the Jewish upper class, the financial elite, who lent money to the nobles and great Christian mer¬ chants. Baer believed that if the ban on moneylending had become effective, it would have “prevented Jews from acting as tax-farmers.”45 This conten¬ tion, however, is wrong. If either of these occupations—tax farming and moneylending—depended on the other, it was not the former that depended on the latter. The major source of wealth for the Jewish financiers was tax farming, not moneylending, and it was the large profits they made from tax farming that enabled them to grant large loans to the nobles, and occasionally to the kings too. Had Alfonso XI or Enrique III believed that their laws forbidding money lending at interest might endanger Jewish farming of their revenues, they would never have issued those laws. No financial arrangement was guarded by them more jealously than the collection of their revenues by Jewish tax farmers. If moneylending affected the economic conditions of many individualjews but changed only marginally the Jewish communal situation, the gathering of revenues, and especially tax farming, involved a much smaller number of Jews, but had a great impact on the general condition of the Jewish commu¬ nity as a whole.

This was due, first of all, to the direct linkage of the

tax-farming system with the royal administration. The gathering of the king’s revenues was carried out under the guidance and supervision of the Chief Treasurer of the realm (or of the Contador Mayor) who, until the end of the

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[7*

14th century (when his office was taken over by conversos), was almost invariably a Jew. The influence of this official was often far-reaching, exceeding by far his financial responsibilities, and therefore deserving special atten¬ tion. The medieval Spanish chronicles, however, referred to the Jewish courtiers cursorily and only with the briefest possible remarks, while modern scholarship, as Ballesteros observed, has scarcely investigated their lives and performance.46 Nevertheless, even at this stage of our knowledge, we can state with full assurance that thejewish treasurer at Court was the main pillar of the Jewish economic structure and the central force in what may be defined as the political power of Spanish Jewry. Indubitably, most of this power derived from the tasks the Jews fulfilled in acquiring and managing the finances of the royal estate. The tax-collection system, controlled by the treasurer, was mostly, if not entirely, in Jewish hands. Heading its various sections and divisions, which covered all regions and all types of imposts, were tax farmers, who were in most cases Jewish, and whose assistants, their assessors and collectors, were usually Jewish as well. As a result, the Christian commoners of each city found themselves subjected to Jewish tax gatherers who, armed with royal powers, could force them to pay taxes in accordance with their own assessments. What occurred as a result could of course be expected. The cities raised their voice in violent protest against their alleged subjugation to thejews and demanded a revision of the whole tax-gathering system and the removal of all Jewish officials from it. As these demands produced no positive response, the protests became louder and fiercer; yet their effect remained the same: nil. This was one issue on which the kings would not yield; and tax collection remained largely in Jewish hands until the end of Jewish sojourn in Spain. It was primarily because of the functions of thejews as the king’s revenue gatherers in the urban areas that the cities saw the Jews as the monarch’s agents, who treated them as objects of massive exploitation. By serving as they did the interests of the kings, thejews seemed to be working against the interests of the cities; and thus we touch again on the phenomenon we have referred to: the fundamental conflict between the kings and their people—a conflict not limited to financial matters, but one that embraced all spheres of government that had a bearing on the people’s life. It was in part thanks to this conflict of interests that thejews could survive the harsh climate of the Middle Ages, and it is hard to believe that they did not discern it when they came to resettle in Christian Europe. Indeed, their requests, since the days of the Carolingians, for assurances of protection before they settled in a place show (a) that they realized that the kings’ positions on many issues differed from those of the common people and (b) that the kings were prepared, for the sake of their interests, to make common cause with the “alien” Jews

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HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

against the clear wishes of their Christian subjects. In a sense, therefore, the Jews’ agreements with the kings in the Middle Ages resembled the under¬ standings they had reached with foreign conquerors in the ancient world. This situation, as we may gather from the above, was not by any means unique to Spain; it was common to many countries in Europe. But in two respects Spain differed from the latter. In Spain, the kings were almost constantly engaged in a war of national liberation, and therefore it was their people’s war no less than their own. The Reconquest was indeed the common ground on which the wishes of kings and people met, and as long as that war continued, no real rupture could occur between the king and his Christian subjects. In addition, as leaders of all military campaigns against the people’s most dangerous enemy (the Moslems), the authority of the kings became so dominant that few dared to act against their decisions. But on the other hand, Spain was the scene of a development that limited the ability of the Spanish kings’ to conduct their pro-Jewish policy freely— that is, in any way they wanted. The needs of the war, which lasted for centuries, compelled the kings of Spain to grant the people rights, which became ever more impressive both quantitatively and qualitatively, in order to arouse their enthusiasm for the war and their readiness for self-sacrifice. Thus Spain became the first country in Europe where the seeds of democracy sprouted and, in consequence, the people gathered enough courage to criti¬ cize their leaders and demand reforms. As long as the war of the Reconquest continued, these criticisms could be quelled by the kings with little effort. But when the war was halted for a long time, the voice of the people became ever louder and steadily more audacious and effective. The radical change came in the middle of the 13th century, when the Reconquest had attained its major goals with the capture by the Christians of Seville (1248) and Jaen (1252), and when the third estate in Spain—the democratic force, which was centered in the cities—at last gained represen¬ tation in the Cortes of Castile (almost nine decades after it had gained it in Aragon). From then on, Castile’s cities incessantly conducted a vigorous campaign against the Jews, marked by frequent forceful assaults, which the kings, in need of the Jews’ services, repeatedly tried to ward off. The follow¬ ing two hundred and fifty years (1250-1492), representing the second half of Jewish life in Christian Spain (insofar as the bulk of the second cycle was concerned), was a period of incessant struggle between the Jews and the Spanish cities. During the first century of that period the Jews still appear to be holding their own, repeatedly succeeding in repelling attempts to abolish or restrict their rights. In this one hundred years (1250—1348) we still see the Jews in charge of Spain’s finances, in the councils of government, in the leading embassies, in the supply of armies, and in many of the other tasks and professions in which they had engaged in the preceding era. Moreover, in this

THE

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very century we see them rise in the echelons of power, producing some of their most eminent courtiers, such as £ag de la Maleha (under Alfonso X), Abraham el Barchilon (under Sancho IV), Don Samuel (under Fernando IV), and Don Joseph de Ecija (under Alfonso XI). One may conclude, therefore, that even in this period the Jews of Spain were advancing in almost all fields; but it was an uphill advance, against many impediments; and as they reached the top of the pyramid, the specter of annihilation faced them for the first time.47 Then came a period of great crisis and transition, which lasted four decades (1350-1390), followed by a century which began with catastrophe, continued with stabilization on a much lower level, and ended with the precipitate fall of the Expulsion (1492). Throughout this period of transition, as well as for most of the subsequent century (1390—1492), we see the kings making determined efforts to defend the Jews against a rising opposition that steadily became more intense and widespread until it assumed menacing proportions. Thus, in this period the Spanish kings pursued their distinctly pro-Jewish policy not only against world opinion—i.e., the Christian world, of which their kingdoms were part—but also against the dominant opinion of their own people. This shows that some, if not most, of the services the Jews rendered their administrations were considered by the kings vital for their regimes and that therefore they were anxious to retain them. The kings continued to defend the Jews’ traditional positions even against constantly increasing odds. But they ultimately lost. The winners were the cities. More precisely, they were the lower classes, the great majority of the cities’ population, who represented the will of the common man. They got only occasional support from Rome and infrequent help from isolated elements of the Church leadership in Spain. But they were strongly aided by the lower ranks of the hierarchy of the Spanish Church, and they spoke in the name of religion. To gain a better comprehension of what occurred in Spain, and especially of what motivated the urban drive against the Jews, we have to take a closer look at the Castilian cities.

III. The Castilian Cities i

The cities were semi-independent republics that owed whatever rights they possessed to the kings. It was from the kings that they received their charters (fueros), or what we may call their constitutional laws, and it was from them that they obtained from time to time special privileges—that is, revisions, annulments or amplifications of the original rulings. These privi¬ leges were usually granted to the cities in response to requests they addressed to the kings when their inhabitants came to regard some old laws as no longer applicable or tolerable. Especially would the kings respond to such requests when they sought the cities’ aid (financial or political) and when the cities had grown rich and strong enough to make large-scale contributions to the Crown. To get what he asked of them, the king often felt that he had to give the cities something in return; for in negotiating with the king the issues in question, the cities were moved by two desires. While willing to render vital services to the kings in all matters related to national security, they wished to get greater consideration for their views concerning the management of the kingdom’s affairs. Especially did they seek to curb, if not free themselves from royal interference in their internal life. There is no evidence that the cities of Spain had ever aspired to an independent status such as was attained by some cities in Italy or by the Hanseatic League. The war of the Reconquest, which clearly required the unification of all national forces, precluded the development of such schemes; and so did the smallness of the Spanish cities, which, excepting Seville, Barcelona and Valencia, could not compare in population and resources with their European counterparts. But what the Spanish cities could not gain individually they tried to gain together, as a collective force, and what they sought to attain was a leading position among the factors determining the national life of Spain. These factors, as indicated, were primarily three: the king, the nobility and the urban oligarchies, each of which aspired to wealth and power—more wealth to gain greater power, or more power to gain greater wealth. No other aspiration can be seen as decisive in the intermittent conflicts among these forces, and no other can be viewed as truly significant in shaping their attitude toward the Jews. For that attitude was established primarily by the view that each of them took of the Jewish role—i.e., whether it was judged to be helpful or harmful to their economic and political aspirations.

THE

SPANISH

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[ IS

The reader who is used to defining the Jewish problem in primarily religious or spiritual terms may wonder at our exclusion from the list of the factors that shaped the fortunes of the Jews in Spam (a) the Spanish clergy, which was one of the estates and (b) the Catholic Church, with its seat in Rome, which established policies for the Jews in Christendom. That the local and Roman churches had a share in shaping the destinies of the Jews in Spain as elsewhere, it is not our purpose to deny. But it is our wish to draw a dividing line between determining and supportive factors; and as far as we can judge, the role of the Church, both Spanish and universal, was secondary in the gathering storm against the Hispano-Jewish community. Viewed in due perspective, the cardinal facts, attested by evidence we consider conclusive, indicate this quite clearly. We shall note this evidence and probe it. Yet before doing so, we ought to take another look at the specific issues that served as casus belli between the Jews and the cities—their relentless and, in fact, most dangerous foes.

II

It has long been noted that the first public attack upon the Jews as gatherers of the royal revenues in Castile took place during Sancho IV’s reign in the Cortes of Haro, 1288, where the cities demanded that the Jews be removed from the offices of farmers and collectors of taxes.1 What has not been noted, however, is that this demand was not conceived as an exclusively anti-Jewish move—that is, as a move against the Jews qua Jews. The facts of the case controvert such an assumption totally and conclusively. For in that very Cortes the burghers asked the king to refrain from farming out the taxes (servicios, or other tributes) to any person and, in order to obtain the revenues due him, to appoint only collectors. These collectors, the cities further argued, should be omes buenos (i.e., “good people”) who “know how to serve God and the king and guard their souls and the communities (los pueblos)."2 Omes buenos was the common designation of a special segment of the urban aristocracy, which constituted the town’s moral elite and supplied a good part of the council’s membership. Hence, what the cities asked the king in that Cortes was to stop the farming of taxes altogether, to limit the procedure of tax gathering to collections, and, finally, to transfer the respon¬ sibilities of tax collection to their own chosen and “trustworthy” members, who, by virtue of their integrity and reliability, would serve both the king and the people. This much is clear from the response the king gave to the petition addressed to him on that issue. What is not clear, however, is whether the ban on tax farming was meant to be absolute, inviolable in all circumstances, or whether the prohibition on “any person” (besides the Jews as a group specif-

76 ]

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BACKGROUND

ically mentioned) was directed against certain non-Jewish tax gatherers who were opposed by the cities as performers of this task for some undisclosed reason. In the Cortes of Valladolid, 1293, the cities took steps to clarify their intent and put teeth into their previous petition. Instead of asking the king to forbid tax farming “to any person”—which made the request appear too general and hence might permit undesirable exceptions—they now asked specifically that the farming be prohibited to ricos omes (the high nobility), Caballeros (nobles of lower rank), alcaldes (royal city judges), merinos (royal provincial judges) and, finally, to Jews.3 Thus, the term “any person” in the petition of 1288 served merely to avoid open confrontation with certain highly placed Christians, whom the townsmen indubitably objected to as tax farmers no less, and perhaps more, than they opposed the Jews. If we compare their two petitions on tax farming in the Cortes of Haro and that of Valladolid, we may conclude that apart from the groups they disqualified from tax farming, there were no other tax farmers, actual or prospective. That was why they could safely extend their proposed prohibition to “any person.” They could do so also for the obvious reason that they themselves were not prepared to become tax farmers (for reasons to be discussed). But the cities went further in their antagonism to having any of the above groups—i.e., the nobles (of all ranks), the high officials, and the Jews—involved in the gathering of the revenues. Thus, in the same Cortes of Valladolid they asked the king to remove the latter not only from tax farming but from tax collection as well.4 But insofar as tax collection was concerned, the burghers would not extend the prohibition they requested to “any person,” for they themselves had a strong, abiding interest in assuming the role of tax collectors. In fact, just as they wanted to have none of the tax farming, they wanted to have all of the tax collection.

Ill

That this opposition to appoint Christians of authority to any of the above-mentioned tasks and offices was not determined by a passing mood but by deep-rooted attitudes and convictions is evident from the petitions pre¬ sented to the king only a few years later, in 1301, in the Cortes of Burgos and that of Zamora. Judging by the king’s response in Burgos, the petition of the cities on that occasion was concerned primarily with the collection of the servicios; and regarding this they expressed their radical opposition to having caballeros, clerics and Jews participate in that function in any capacity— whether as farmers, collectors, or inquirers. Their demands in Zamora were essentially the same with respect to the groups they wanted excluded, but extended to cover, beyond the servicios, all forms of royal taxation. Specifi-

THE

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f 77

cally, what the cities asked in this Cortes was that “neither ncos homes, nor infanzones, nor caballeros, nor clerics, nor Jews” be allowed to act as farmers or collectors of either the servicios, or the monedas, or the diezmos de puertos (duties imposed on transported goods), or any of the tributes that might be required by the king in some future time. Similarly, they demanded that all these taxes be collected in fidelity” for the king by “caballeros and omes buenos of the towns” and by “residents of the other royal places” and that these collectors be “remunerated” for their efforts in the form of fixed salaries.”5 This stipulation again makes it clear that the cities refused to have the taxes of the king farmed and collected not only by Jews but by any noble of whatever rank, and that they likewise opposed having members of the clergy engaged in these undertakings. Their position with regard to tax collection was identical with the one they maintained on tax farming, except that they agreed to have the towns caballeros join with the local omes buenos in assuming the offices of tax gathering. The inclusion by the cities of these caballeros among the tax gatherers resulted no doubt from the difficulty they felt in denying the caballeros this right. As citizens involved in the governance of the cities, the city caballeros formed a bridge between the first and third estates— or rather, between the grandees and the city. Formally members of the nobility, the caballeros were actually closer to the burghers, and they often represented them in Cortes as procuradores of the town councils (concejos). Thus, in a sense, they were in the same category as the omes buenos, and as such they no doubt demanded—and received—the right to serve as tax gatherers in the cities. On the other hand, no such consideration was shown to any member of the clergy. Clerical participation in tax collection was categorically opposed. It seems that the difficulties the nobles of all ranks began to encounter in obtaining royal contracts for both the farming and collection of taxes (as a result of the decisions of Cortes on these matters in 1288 and 1293) provided an opportunity for members of the clergy to assume positions refused to others. Since in the decision of 1293 they were not mentioned among the prohibited groups (even though the Cortes of 1288 prohibited tax farming to “anyone”), the formulation seemed to offer a loophole in the law, which the clergy could use to their advantage. It is also possible that, since the clergy was not mentioned among the groups forbidden to farm or collect taxes, some clerics were engaged by members of the other classes to act formally as their contractors of tax farming or tax collection—most probably, for some assured profit or on the basis of partnership. Yet whatever the cause of the clergy’s sudden entry into the field of royal tax gathering, the cities were quick to close this loophole in the law and made it clear that their objection to the clergy’s action in this field was as strong as that to the nobility’s. In fact, it may have been stronger. For the burghers could suspect that the moral

HISTORICAL

78]

BACKGROUND

authority and judicial privileges enjoyed by tax-farming clergymen would make it even harder for the cities to resist them (in case of abuses) than many members of the noble class. In any case, their objection to the gathering of taxes by churchmen indicates most emphatically that other motives than religion were determining the cities’ position on this issue. That the cities disapproved of both clerics’ and nobles’ involvement in the gathering of the revenues no less than they opposed that of the Jews seems again to be indicated in the petitions they submitted in the Cortes of Medina del Campo (1305). These petitions again reiterated the demand that Jews be forbidden to serve as collectors, supervisors of collectors (sobre cogedores), and farmers of taxes, and further stipulated that “neither ricos omes nor caballeros nor any other person” be allowed to farm the revenues.6 It is at this point, we should note, that the king states the reason given by the petitioners for this particular objection—i.e., that this method of gathering the revenues would “lay waste the land.”7 To be sure, these effects were ascribed to tax farming regardless of who performed the task, yet the fact that the magnates and other caballeros were singled out for mention in this connection seems to indicate that they were notorious as harsh and injurious tax farmers. Perhaps this remark was prompted by the ruthlessness displayed by some members of the nobility in collecting the taxes they had farmed; in any case, it is clear that what the cities demanded in this Cortes, as in the preceding ones, was that tax farming be totally prohibited to both Jews and Christians and that the collection of taxes be entrusted to people who were “citizens and resi¬ dents” of the towns (vecinos et moradores) and, apart from this, that the collectors be appointed by the cities.8 They evidently saw in these measures a guarantee against frequent violations of their proprietary rights and illegal expropriations of the fruits of their labor, or of their inherited possessions. In light of the above, it is not difficult to understand what is implied in the king’s reply to a petition submitted to him on this matter in the Cortes of Valladolid, 1307: With respect to the request they made concerning the taxes [pechos] which they would have to give me—[namely,] that I refuse to have them gathered [from now on] by those who habitually collect them, nor by other people from outside the places [in which the taxes are to be levied], for [in this way] many wrongs are done to the land; and [furthermore] that I see to it that the taxes be collected by the towns’ caballeros and omes buenos who should be men of substance, so that they may serve me and guard the land from harm, I say that I hold it for good that I appoint the collectors, and that these be rich and trustworthy omes buenos of the towns, and that no Jew be [from now on] collector or farmer of the revenues.9

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[ 79

Even though only the Jews are here mentioned among those to whom the prohibition applied, there is no doubt that some of the above terms (those “from outside the towns,” and those who “habitually collect the taxes” and consequently cause, in the cities’ opinion, “wrongs” and “harms” to the land) referred to the same groups which were described by the procuradores in previous petitions. And these included of course the aristocrats and the clerics, whose participation in the tax-gathering process the cities, as we have seen, had violently opposed. That the king now refrained from mentioning these groups and preferred to speak in general terms must be attributed to his political concerns

i.e., to his desire to minimize offense to both the high

nobility and the clergy, then actively cooperating with him in preparations for a war against Granada. Yet both the positive and negative parts of his decision—the assignment of the tax collection to townspeople only and the exclusion of all those who are outside the towns”—made it quite clear that not only Jews, but also the higher classes of the Christian society fell within his prohibition. All anonymity was dropped in the Cortes of Palencia (1313), in which the cities vigorously resumed the attack on various matters that concerned them, including taxes. Now, as on previous occasions, they were assured not only that taxes would not be farmed out but that no caballero, or clergyman, orjew, or any

other mischievous persons” (omes reboltosos) would be engaged in

collection of taxes.10 The stipulation also indicates a definite hardening of the cities position toward their own

Caballeros. Like all other members of the

aristocracy, they too were now forbidden to engage in tax collection, which was hereafter left exclusively, as the king’s reply specifies, in the hLnds of omes buenos. Two years later, in the Cortes of Burgos, this exclusion of the Caballeros from the tax collection, even in their own places of residence, was allowed to suffer one exception: in Extremadura the caballeros of the towns were permitted by the cities, for an undisclosed reason, to collect taxes in their places of residence, as were the omes buenos.11 But this provision, which was clearly presented as the sole exception to the proposed rule, only shows how stern and determined was the cities’ opposition to the nobles’ engage¬ ment in this field. In fact, their objections to caballeros, clerics andjews either as farmers or collectors of taxes are repeated in this Cortes with special force.12 With similar emphasis, though less comprehensively, the cities re¬ stated their position on the subject in the Cortes of Carrion, 1317. “No caballero, no cleric, and no Jew will farm any part of the revenues or the tributes which rightfully belong to the king.”13 So great indeed was the cities’ opposition to the nobles’ participation in the gathering of the taxes that in the Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, they not only repeated this demand but also forbade the admission to the profession of any

8o ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

townsman who “lives or was friendly with any rico ome or caballero or lady of high rank,” or with noblemen or ladies of lesser rights,14 obviously because such townsmen might serve as media for the nobles’ penetration into the tax-gathering system. No doubt many nobles used trustworthy townsmen as undercover agents to act as collectors—nominally on their own, but actually on the nobles’ behalf—to circumvent the laws that prohibited the latter from acting as tax gatherers of any sort. The new stipulation regarding such townspeople was intended to stop that practice. Similarly, the cities restated their objection to having clerics share in the collection of the revenues, just as they again reaffirmed their opposition to having Jews participate in that function. “Clerics and Jews” are again linked together as undesired persons in the field, and classed with them here are also the Moors, who seem to have entered the royal fiscal system, perhaps because they had not been specifically mentioned among the prohibited groups. Thus, the burghers’ demand was now extended to read that “neither clerics, nor Jews, nor Moors be involved in the tax collection, and [furthermore] that the taxes not be farmed.”15 The request that tax farming be prohibited was of course meant to be general in scope, but the fact that it is mentioned alongside the interdict intended for the above three groups (i.e., clerics, Jews and Moors), and not mentioned in conjunction with the nobles, indicates, it seems, that by that time the nobility had withdrawn from the tax-farming business (no doubt because of the previous enactments)16 and merely tried to retain, by various subterfuges, its reduced position in the field of tax collection. In the Cortes of Madrid of 1329, neither the great lords (and the nobility in general) nor the clerics serve anymore as targets of attack in the burghers’ petition on the issue of the taxes. From this we may conclude that under pressure of the cities, both the nobility and the clergy had abandoned tax collection and tax farming altogether. This left the field open to Jews and Moors, who hastened to increase their holdings in it. No wonder that Jewish and Moorish tax gatherers now attracted the fire of the burghers’ criticism, and it is evident why the Jews, who were by far the main tax lords, both by tradition and experience, as well as by their greater financial power, were now singled out as especially ominous.17 Faced for the first time with only the Jews as their main competitors in this field, the burghers soon concluded that unless they came up with some new solution to the problem of the revenues, they had no chance of winning the contest. They realized that the secret of the Jews’ hold on the system lay in their excellent services as tax farmers, and that unless a suitable substitute was offered, the kings would continue to engage them. In consequence, the burghers made a major shift of policy and suggested, for the first time, that they, together with the towns’ caballeros, be appointed as tax farmers and tax collectors.18 It is significant

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[81

that in responding to this petition, Alfonso XI gave a qualified consent to their anti-Jewish demands,19 but failed to indicate any support for their proposal that the taxes be farmed and collected by the burghers. Evidently, he considered that proposal so impractical—or so inimical to his interests— that he refused to indicate any support for it, let alone commit himself to it to any extent. That the burghers lost the contest with the Jews in this field, and that the latter became in the succeeding decades the only dominant factor in tax farming (and no doubt, as a result, also in tax collection), is evident from the petition the cities submitted to the king in the Cortes of Burgos of 1367. Complaining this time merely that the king (Enrique II) farmed out to Jews the debts that the cities owed for past taxes, without making clear what the farmers and collectors still owed the treasury, the cities asked the king that an order be given to collect the latter debts first, and that this collection be farmed out to “Christians who may enjoy the king’s favor.”20 Significantly, this time there is no indication of the class or kind of Christian tax farmers that the cities would approve of, and certainly there is no insistence that they be

trusted sons

of the cities concerned. It is obvious that the cities had

failed to build a tax-farming system of their own, and that after ousting the nobles and the clergy from the field, they could not put forward members of their own groups as potential tax farmers. Their suggestion that unspecified Christians ( whoever might be acceptable to the king”) assume the responsi¬ bilities involved indicates only that they themselves could not propose any¬ one for the task, and merely hoped that some Christians, of one class or another, might be willing to accept the position. But that such a hope was unrealistic is evident from the following response of the king: The truth is that we have ordered the said revenues to be farmed out to Jews because we have not found any others who would take it ... but if some Christians would like to take it, we would order to have it given to them for a much smaller amount than the one for which it was farmed to the Jews.21 Like the petition itself, the response indicates the collapse of the burghers’ campaign on this issue and the total exposure of their abortive plans to offer substitutes for Jewish tax farming. Indeed, there were no substitutes. In the Cortes of Toro of 1371, in which the cities’ attack upon the Jews reached a new peak of ferocity, the burghers again demanded that Jews be denied the right to farm taxes,22 but made no counterproposals to compensate the king for his expected losses. It is clear that what the cities wanted was not only to remove the Jews from tax farming but—as they had stated time and again—to have the whole institution abolished and deny this activity to non-Jews no less than to Jews. What they wanted was to have the tax gathering performed

8 2 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

only by tax collectors chosen from their own fold. Indicated in this was no doubt distrust for anyone outside their own communities—whether Jew or nonJew—and self-defense against abusive exploitation of their own members by outside elements. Yet there is no doubt that apart from this, the cities sought to secure for themselves—or rather for their rich and leading citizens—the profits to be derived from managing the tax collections. Eager as they were to lay their hands on any source of income that the state could provide, they were especially anxious to control those sources to which they saw them¬ selves entitled by right. Regardless of the arguments they presented to the king—which emphasized their care for the interests of the Crown, no less than for the “land,” which they sought to protect—it is obvious that the economic advantage referred to was very much on their minds. Those who paid the taxes, the cities felt, were entitled to the benefits derivable from that payment. This feeling, we should add, was steadily intensified by their general jealousy for their independence, by their intense desire to run their own affairs, and by their fierce objection to foreign interference—that is, to have outsiders command or police them, determine their right to their possessions and thereby dictate their economic fortunes and indeed control their lives. By “foreigners” and “outsiders,” it must be understood, the cities meant anyone outside their corporation—that is, who did not belong to their commune—whether or not he lived inside their walls. Consequently, this “alienship” applied to anyone who was not legally bound by the city’s decisions. In the case of taxes, the burghers’ struggled against “alien” controls of their material assets and “alien” impositions upon their economic life. Thus, their opposition to the Jews in this area was rooted in the same interests and considerations that motivated their opposition to the nobility and the clergy, except that the alien status of the Jews was felt by the burghers more keenly, and therefore aroused stronger antagonism, for rea¬ sons to be discussed below. Even so, the cities’ opposition to the Jews was inseparable from their general objectives. Hence it remained essentially, in all circumstances, a secular rather than a religious opposition. It was part of the far larger, centuries-old struggle that the cities had been waging, in Spain as elsewhere, for economic and political self-determination.

IV

In view of the above, one might consider it superfluous to demonstrate that the cities’ appeals to the kings to bar all public offices to Jews stemmed likewise from social, economic and political rather than religious interests. Yet so much stress has been laid by most historians on religion as the prime cause of those appeals that one feels duty-bound to examine this claim from

THE

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[8?

every possible standpoint. One is further impelled to make such an examina¬ tion in light of the fact that the cities’ demand that the Jews be denied the right to public office was the primary and best-known postulate of their anti-Jewish policy. Forming part of the imperial legislation since the days of Theodosius II (418-438), and reinforced by the decisions of the Third Toledan and Fourth Lateran Councils (589; 1215), the proposed measure to bar the Jews from public office was in full consonance with established Church law. It was obviously meant to be applied more stringently against holders of high public office than against low-grade officials. Yet the kings of Castile disregarded this intent and, as we have seen, kept appointingjews to the highest positions in their court and administration. King Alfonso VI initiated this tradition,23 and when Pope Gregory VII found it necessary to remind him that Jews should have no authority over Christians,24 the king simply ignored the papal reproof In fact, the engagement ofjews as courtiers and high officials became such common practice in Castile that future popes would not even issue reminders” on this matter, evidently because they realized that their pro¬ tests would be slighted and their complaints remain, to the discredit of the Church, a mere exercise in futility. The first time the cities of Castile demanded that Jews be excluded from all offices at Court, and not only from the gathering of the king’s revenues, occurred during the minority of Fernando IV in the Cortes of Valladolid,' I29V5 To be sure, the Jews were the only group explicitly mentioned as unacceptable for these positions; yet two other demands the cities made on that occasion show that their requested change in the officialdom touched also others besides the Jews. What they wanted was no less than the removal from the Court of all the favorites and officials of Sancho IV (the previous monarch), most of whom belonged to the higher estates, with the possible exception of some of them, whom the Regents and the cities would consider suitable.26 Never had such an audacious demand been presented by the cities of Castille, and its far-reaching implications can be properly assessed only in conjunction with the reported fact that the cities had appointed certain omes buenos to choose, with the Regents, the new candidates for office.27 There can be no doubt that what the cities wanted was that most officials of the Court be not only approved by their omes buenos, but be in fact members of the urban upper class. 1 hus, their objection to Jews serving at Court was not a specifi¬ cally anti-Jewish position, but, like the stand they took on tax farming, part of a much larger issue, involving, besides Jews, the nobility and the clergy. In fact, what it reflected was the cities’ aspiration to take over the entire central administration from its royal governors and rulers,Jews and non-Jews alike. It was a struggle for control, for power, and for the perquisites of office, not for religious values.

84

]

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BACKGROUND

In the Cortes of Valladolid, 1312, King Fernando IV, in his reply to the cities’ petitions on this question, avoided criticism of his officials—clearly, not to show consideration for any plan to discriminate against them in the governance of the kingdom.28 But during the minority of Alfonso XI, when the government was run by a divided regency, the cities returned to press the same demands with renewed and even greater vigor. Again we hear them urge (in the Cortes of Palencia, 1313) that no Jew be allowed to assume any office at the Court of the king and repeat, in this connection, the old Church argument that Jews, as officials, do much harm to Christians by their deceitful claims and impositions.29 This sharp denunciation of thejews (as Jews) does not, however, alter the fact that, in the same Cortes, the cities again urged the removal of the nobility from almost all the positions at Court. Moreover, they insisted that the Council of Regency, which was planned to comprise twenty members, should include sixteen representatives of the cities and four nobles, none of whom were to be favorites or courtiers of the former King (Fernando IV) and only such as would be acceptable to the cities.30 This audacious demand, which obviously meant to eliminate the nobility as a political force, was matched by another, no less audacious, which was aimed at achieving the same objective. Essentially, it was the same demand that the cities made in 1295, but this time spelled out more clearly, so as to leave no doubt that what they sought was a permanent arrangement and not a stop¬ gap to cope with a temporary emergency. Thus, the cities demanded that the offices of the Court, which were traditionally occupied by the high nobility, such as the offices of camarero, coperero and portero mayor; as well as all the other offices of the Court,

be

placed

in

the

hands of townspeople

(caballeros and omes buenos),lx and, on top of this, they demanded that the judges and escribanos serving at Court on behalf of the various “kingdoms” be all omes buenos, and that such be the merinos, who must be also natives of the regions or provinces for which they were appointed.32 In brief, what they demanded amounted in effect to a revolutionary change in the whole system of government: a total takeover by the cities of the royal administration— central, regional and municipal alike. That this was indeed what they wanted to achieve, and that their attempts to oust thejews from their royal offices formed part of their effort to deny these offices to all nonburgher elements, was further confirmed in the Cortes of Valladolid, 1322. In this Cortes the cities were asked to support the Queen’s new plan—i.e., to have the Infante Don Felipe serve as “tutor” to the young king, and thus as the de facto head of government. The cities seized the opportunity then offered them by the divided and weakened regency, and approved the Queen’s proposal on condition that the new tutor extend their administrative controls and strengthen their grip on the national government. They now stipulated that the Supreme Council of State should be enlarged

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to comprise twenty-four members, all of whom should be representatives of the cities (caballeros and omes buenos) and that these should examine and determine all matters that came before the king.33 This means that the cities now saw an opportunity to clear the highest echelons of government of all baronial and clerical elements by refusing admission to the Supreme Council even to the small minority of ncos omes to which they had consented in 1313. The cities of course repeated their demands that the notaries at the King’s Court and all the judges and escribanos in the country be chosen from their own people34; but to make their hold on the government more secure, they now also demanded that all alcazars and castles in the royal cities be gov¬ erned by members of the local communities (i.e., caballeros and omes buenos), and not by members of the landed aristocracy, as was the common practice until that time.35 All this attests the aggressive policy that the cities followed in their quest for control. It would be surprising if in this Cortes the cities had not launched an attack upon the Jews

or rather upon the Jewish officials in the administration. And

indeed, after stipulating that the holders of the king’s seals must be chosen only from his subjects in the cities,36 they presented the demand that “neither clerics nor Jews nor any one who represents them” be allowed to hold a post in the chancellery, in the notaries, in the Office of the Seal and all other offices that pertain to the chancellery.”37 All these posts must be manned by city people; the clerics and Jews who now serve in them must be dismissed; and should Don Felipe refuse to act accordingly, the cities would cease to recognize him as tutor and withhold their support from him.38 This extraor¬ dinarily strong formulation made it clear that the cities were not prepared to temporize or compromise on this issue; but, again, it should be noted that the cities demand extended not only to Jews but to representatives of the Church, including prelates39; and hence it was not zeal for Christianity that dictated this stipulation but major secular-earthly concerns—namely, the desire to attain full control of all key positions in the state. In the next few decades the cities made no demands to eliminate the Jews, the clergy and the nobility from the offices of government. But this does not mean that they had changed their attitudes toward the Jews and the other estates or their political and economic aspirations. In the days of Alfonso XI’s majority and those of his successor, Pedro I, it was simply inconceivable for the cities to dictate the structure of government to these strong monarchs. In this period, indeed, the influence of the cities declined, and that of the Jews and the other estates rose, in the royal administration. It was only in 1367, under Enrique II, before the conclusion of the Civil War, that the cities resumed, at the Cortes of Burgos, their attack upon the Jews in positions of power, and accompanied this attack by a renewed effort to penetrate the highest echelons of government. We must, however, note the new tactics that

86 ]

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the cities employed on this occasion. Having abandoned the extravagant demand that the nobles and clerics be banished from the administration, they now merely asked for twelve omes buenos to be included in the royal Council, not as replacements but as an addition.40 On the other hand, they now abandoned all restraint in their complaints against the Jews. They plainly demanded that all Jews be ousted from the royal court and the courts of all members of the king’s family, justifying this demand by the many evils, injustices, deaths and evictions that “the cities suffered in the previous reigns at the counsel of Jews who served as favorites or officials of the kings.”41 It is significant that while the king responded positively to the first request (namely, the addition of omes buenos to his Council), he totally rejected the second. “Never, he said, “was such a petition presented to any of the other kings of Castile.”42 Such requests, as we have seen, had been presented in the past, not once but several times, even though they were actually addressed not to kings but to regents. The king must have known this, and his response indicated a search for excuses in support of his reply. But the burghers were not deterred by his rejection. Several years later, in the Cortes of Toro, 1371, they renewed their attempt to penetrate the king’s Council, though in a more cautious way. 1 his time they did not demand the inclusion in the Council of any fixed number of their members, but only some of their citizens that the king would find fit.43 But they intensified their attack upon the Jews and demanded their ouster from all the offices—that is, not only from those of the royal adminis¬ tration but also from the administrations of the nobles44 What we see here was no doubt a change of tactics, not of general goals. There are enough signs to indicate that the cities were slowly redeveloping their attack upon the nobility and their drive to replace it in the administration. It was precisely because they had to exercise caution and restraint with respect to the nobles that they strengthened their assault upon the Jews. It meant hitting the system at its weakest point and trying to establish their position in govern¬ ment by first replacing the Jews. But Enrique II would not yield. In the Cortes of Burgos, 1377, however, he formally acceded to one request of the cities: the Jews would not occupy any more positions in the administrations of the nobles.45 By this concession, the cities not only came closer to their goal with respect to the Jews; they also struck a blow at the nobles, whom they always regarded as their major adversaries and whom they wished to strip of their great economic and political power.

v W hat has been said about the attitude of the cities toward Jewish occu¬ pancy of high offices in general, and the offices of revenue gathering in

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[«7

particular, can be said about their attitude toward other rights and privileges that the Jews had received from the kings of Spain. The special status the Jews had been enjoying in the country’s judicial system was perhaps as characteristic of the Jewish condition in Spain as the functions they fulfilled in the royal administration. Certain that the society in which they lived would be reluctant to treat them fairly and equally—and, in fact, would be inclined to discriminate against them—in legal clashes between them and its Christian members, thejews of Spain asked for and received the right to have their legal disputes with Christians heard by special judges appointed by the king. These judges would take into consideration Jewish as well as nonJewish law; and no case could be decided against any party on the basis of Christian or Jewish witnesses alone. Inevitably, these arrangements compli¬ cated procedures and often blocked the execution of justice, but they helped protect thejews against legal action originating in prejudice, or in the natural desire of the Christian communities to guard the interests of their members. From the standpoint of the cities, however, such privileges constituted a violation of their basic rights. As permanent residents of their territories, they reasoned, thejews should be subject to their laws; they should appear before the ordinary judges, who handle the cases of all residents; and a Christian plaintiff should not need Jewish witnesses to have his case against a Jew validated in the courts. Consequently, the cities incessantly endeavored to abolish these judicial rights of thejews, while thejews steadily resisted these endeavors and generally succeeded in heading them off. No doubt they managed to convince the kings that if this legal shield were removed, the Jews would be frequently denied justice and their life in the city would become precarious, if not altogether impossible. Nevertheless, there were several exceptions, notably in Toledo, Seville and Murcia, where the cities succeeded in breaking this rule, which had been firmly upheld in the rest of Castile, and the king had to stipulate in their fueros that, save in disputes related to tax farming, Jews who had litigation with Christians should have their cases tried by the city judge.46

1 hese concessions, which isolated cities wrested now and then from the Castilian kings, paved the way for the general demand that the cities finally presented in Cortes for a similar nationwide arrangement. In 1286 they gained at least a partial and temporary victory when Sancho IV agreed to end the appointment of special judges for thejews and instead to assign one of the local judges to deal “separately” with Christian-Jewish litigation. The new setup lacked the prestigious status of the special court that dealt with such litigation and also reduced the chances for the judge to be neutral, since like all local judges, he was an owe bueno, aspiring to gain or retain the friendship of his fellow Christian citizens. However, since he was appointed by the King, and therefore responsible to the Crown for his decisions, he could be

88 ]

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expected to treat fairly both sides. Even so, Sancho IV ordered the judge to take into consideration both Christian and Jewish law, so that in “mixed” cases “the Christians would have their law (derecho) and the Jews theirs.”47 Actually, however, the balance of the compromise tilted heavily in favor of the cities, even though the requirement of mixed testimony apparently continued to be enforced. It seems, however, that the law was interpreted to mean that the Jews had the right to choose from the local judges the one who would decide their conflicts with Christians—a right which gave them considerable leverage— and it was this right that the cities now tried to rescind in order to abolish the “separate” court. They failed in their attempts at the Cortes of Valladolid in i3Ji48 and again at the Cortes of 1385, which met in the same city.49 That the kings repeatedly rejected their petitions indicates how vital this remnant of the old privilege was considered for the Jewish community in Castile. It was only in 1412, with the total collapse of the Jewish social and legal position, that the cities finally attained their goal in this particular area, too.50 Now, ostensibly this struggle of the cities to abolish the judicial privileges of the Jews in their litigation with Christians seems to be related to the Jews qua Jews; and indeed if we consider the letter of their petitions, this seems to have been the case. Actually, however, all this was merely part of a broader struggle, waged by the cities for their judicial independence and a reflection of their determination to subject to their laws all persons outside their communi¬ ties who had any dealing with their citizens or residents. Thus, the cities demanded relentlessly not only that all their judges should be sons and residents of the places where they exercise their duties,51 but also that the judges at the King’s Court should be omes buenos from the King’s towns, who would safeguard the rights of every litigant and the fueros of every group and place.52 Above all, they demanded that if any “grandee, caballero or hidalgo,” or any nobleman of whatever rank, have a claim against plebeians of a royal domain, that he present it “according to the fueros of the defendants and before the judges of their locality.” Only if dissatisfied with the decisions of these judges could the nobles appeal to the King’s Court for a retrial53; but this Court, too, was packed with omes buenos, in whose fairness the nobles put little faith when it came to conflicts between members of their own class and members of the third estate. This is why they demanded to be judged by nobles only, in accordance with the old law and custom; and in the Cortes of Burgos in 1271, Alfonso X yielded to this demand.54 Nevertheless, Sancho IV was compelled to rescind this decision of his father when he responded affirmatively to the cities’ petition in the Cortes of Valladolid, 1293. And no less symptomatic of the cities’ jealousy for their judicial indepen¬ dence, and their stern opposition to any interference with or encroachment upon their legal system, were their repeated rebukes of the ecclesiastical courts

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whenever they tackled secular cases. It was the wish of the procuradores that all prelates and vicars and commanders of religious orders be forbidden to adjudicate in cases that did not fall, clearly and directly, under their jurisdic¬ tion, and that no layman should dare to summon another layman before any ecclesiastical judge.55 Moreover, the cities demanded, and were assured by the king, that “no cleric or man of a [religious] order should be allowed to summon [before an ecclesiastical court] any layman from the king’s domain, according to orders received from Rome, in disputes over landed estates or [other] temporal matters. 56 If they have a claim against any layman with respect to a temporal matter, they should present it to the King’s Court, according to the fuero of the person involved, but if they themselves sentence any layman, or attach any part of his property, their sentence and action cannot be recognized as valid and should be opposed by the local judges.57 It is clear that the cities wanted their own judicial system and their own laws to serve as the only legal means by which their citizens could be judged when claims against them were made by outsiders who were not subject to the local laws (such as the nobles and the clerics), and it is clear that they wished to extend this procedure also to cases that involved claims of their citizens against outsiders. Hence, the cities’ opposition to the Jews’ special rights in the field of judicial procedure was in line with their opposition to any judicial privilege that would give the barons and the clergy an advantage over their own citizens. Tied up with their struggle against separate courts for Jewish-Christian litigation was their opposition to the Jews having their separate escribanias. The cities wanted the Jews’ legal documents to be prepared by the public notaries (escribanos) that each city council had at its service. This meant that all legal instruments that were to serve the Jews in their business transactions would be subject to the discretion of officials of the councils, in whom the Jews had little confidence. T he king had rejected this demand of the cities, first voiced in the Cortes of Burgos (1301) and again in that year in the Cortes of Zamora58; and it had never been raised at Cortes since then. Perhaps the cities believed that this goal could be achieved only with the abolition of the separate courts. In any case, the desire to abolish the separate escribanias was not a passing phenomenon. As with respect to other institutions, the city’s attitude toward the “Jewish” escribanias reflected their firm, abiding determi¬ nation fully to control this important vehicle of legal and economic activity. Thus they repeatedly demanded from the king that he appoint as escribanos in each place only townspeople (later: omes buenos), that he remove from them any cleric occupying the post of escribano and, finally, that he forbid clerical escribanias to serve the needs of laymen.59 Indeed, the struggle to place the work of the escribanias entirely in the hands of omes buenos left numerous and very clear traces in the proceedings of the Castilian Cortes. But here again,

90 ]

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even more than in other issues, it was directed not only against thejews but also—and far more—against other elements, notably the clergy. There is no reason, therefore, to assume that in this as in similar matters, the cities’ position was determined by anything but economic and political interests.

VI

Only a few more remarks are needed to conclude this discussion. The prohibition against the acquisition by Jews (and Moors) of landed property in the urban territories, first petitioned by the cities of Castile in 1293,60 seems to be of religious origin. Yet despite the religious overtones heard in these petitions, the prohibition involved did not stem from religious interests. What motivated the cities’ stand on this matter was primarily their objection to having city property fall into the hands of outsiders. Their repeated requests to prohibit the acquisition of landed estates in the city by noblemen, clerics and members of religious orders, all of whom were subject to outside jurisdiction,61 offer sufficient support of our thesis that the cities’ objection to the acquisition of similar property by Jews reflected the same position. That the struggle against thejews was essentially motivated by social and economic, rather than religious considerations is further evident from the cities’ position on other controversial matters. In a petition submitted at the Cortes of Valladolid, 1312, the cities claimed that more than five thousand rich Jews were freed from any payment of taxes; they demanded that these “exceptions” be abolished and that from then on all Jews share the burden of taxation.62 Exemption from payment was one of the special privileges of the nobility, and the aforesaid demand, like many others, was aimed at eliminating the wealthy Jews from the position of a privileged, special class, similar to that of the Spanish aristocracy. But it also aimed to open new sources of income for the royal administration and thus reduce the fiscal pressure on the cities. Fernando IV, to whom the petition was addressed, responded in a noncommittal manner, but shortly thereafter, following his death, the demand was renewed in the Cortes of Palencia (June 5, 1313) and approved by the Infante Juan, guardian of Alfonso XI.63 That the cities were anxious to have the nobility share a greater burden of the state’s fiscal obligations goes without saying; but it was only in the days of Enrique II (1373) that the monarchy first responded to this wish and began to impose on the aristocracy payments from which it had hitherto been exempt.64 In the Cortes of Zamora, 1432, the cities complained that the prelates, clerics, abbots, and other ecclesiastical persons were shielding com¬ munities and individuals from the obligation to pay taxes on the grounds that they were exempt from such payments by virtue of privileges or customs6S; and in the same Cortes they demanded action against the numerous newly

THE

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f 9'

declared Caballeros, originally omes de poca manera who had acquired noble rank for the sole purpose of avoiding the payment of tributes.66 The matter is again taken up in the Cortes that, met in Valladolid in 1442, in 1447, and in 1451.67 It is clear, then, that the cities sought to broaden the tax base and that their attacks upon the exemptions of rich Jews signified a general tendency in this regard, which received partial royal support in the late 14th century and, as we have noted, came to full expression in the century that followed. Thus, we see a fundamental equality between the cities’ position toward the Jews on issues relating to law, tax farming, offices, property acquisition and exemption from taxes, and their position on all these issues toward the nobility and the clergy. Even their demands for a low rate of interest were not based on a specific attitude toward the Jews and were not directed solely against them.68 Moreover, the same attitude prevailed not only in the cities but in other social entities, and in times preceding the establishment of Cortes in the Castilian kingdom. The very fact that for two full centuries—from 1050 to 1252—the Jewish question was hardly discussed in the Spanish legislative assemblies (in which the cities were not represented) is in itself a clear indication that the policy toward the Jews was not, in the main, determined by religious considerations. For the Spaniards in those centuries were cer¬ tainly no less Christian and the Jews no less Jewish than they were in later times. Furthermore, the same attitude was reflected not only in the secular legislative bodies but also in the ecclesiastical ones. From 1137, religious matters were dealt with separately by Church councils, presided over by dignitaries of the Church and not, as in earlier times, when the governmental councils, which dealt with both ecclesiastical and secular matters, were presided over by the kings. Thus, Jewish affairs were now to be dealt with by two independent legislative bodies; and what is symptomatic and reveal¬ ing in this respect is that the Jewish question came up for discussion, for the first time after a long period of silence, not in the religious but in the secular assemblies—that is, in the Cortes of 1252. In fact, the Church councils were mute on the Jewish question for almost the entire preceding two centuries, including the period of more than a century in which they assembled without secular overlordship. They continued to keep silent for the next two genera¬ tions (from 1252 to 1313). That the Spanish Church took such an attitude at the time when the cities’ procuradores at Cortes were launching repeated attacks against the Jews and trying to dislodge them from their positions offers further proof that it was not ecclesiastical but secular forces—and, more precisely, the cities of Spain—that impelled the anti-Jewish drive and sustained it throughout this period. Therefore, when we see the Church Council of Zamora, 1313, taking

92]

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an anti-Jewish stand for the first time, we must conclude that it was under the influence of the cities—and the inflammatory agitation they had con¬ ducted for decades and reached a special height in that very year—that the Church finally decided to move in the same anti-Jewish direction. In other words, the Catholic hierarchy in Spain was for hundreds of years aligned with the kings and the nobility, and not with the people. This does not mean, of course, that the sentiment of the population was not shared by many of the clergy, especially those of the lower ranks. It was. But it took a radical change in the social circumstances for the Church to join the general attack upon the Jews.

IV. Debacle and Transition i

The views voiced in Cortes by the procuradores embodied the cities’ formal demands. But the cities’ population was not of one mind. Its upper strata sought to achieve by agitation and by petitions to the king (both in and outside Cortes) the enactment of new laws that would limit the Jews’ rights and narrow their spheres of activity. In other words, they sought to reduce the Jews’ position—social, economic and political—by legal means. The lower strata wanted the Jews out of the cities, and were ready to use the most brutal methods, especially when the rulers of the cities—their spokesmen— failed to get substantial concessions from the king in response to their anti-Jewish demands. Nevertheless, they would not dare attack the Jews unless the city leaders joined them in the assault, while the latter, even when inclined to aid the masses, would not take the course of naked aggression without the support of some great nobiliar force. Such support, however, they rarely received; and in consequence, all classes of the Christian urban population felt paralyzed in a way when they wished to fight the Jews. What held them in this state of impotence, they knew, was their fear of the king and the great nobles, who all seemed committed to the Jews’ defense. Their chance of attacking the Jews, they realized, lay only in a serious disruption of relations between the monarchy and the nobles who stood behind it. Such a chance arose unexpectedly out of a chain of unforeseeable develop¬ ments. Alfonso XI, king of Castile, had died in the great plague (1350) and the throne was occupied by his son Pedro. Relations among the heirs of the departed king were poisoned, and they infected the great nobles associated with them. Inevitably, these relations led before long to rifts among various nobiliar factions, and these rifts, in which the king became involved, eroded his prestige and the popular affection on which royalty in Spain usually relied. This was the background of the ensuing troubles and the ultimate collapse of the king’s power. The king himself was another source of growing unrest in the kingdom. Perhaps never before was Spain in greater need of a self-controlled, wise and patient ruler who might allay the apprehensions, distrust and ill will that dominated the conflicting parties. But Pedro I was not such a ruler. He was impetuous, headstrong and exceedingly sensitive about his royal rights and honor. Above all, he was moved by the same factionalism that imbued the main nobiliar contenders. He belonged, from the outset, to one of the parties, and so did his leading guides and counselors.1

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When Pedro ascended the throne he was fifteen years old and under the influence of his chief minister, Don Juan Alfonso de Albuquerque, who had been his tutor, and of his mother, Maria de Portugal, the estranged wife of Alfonso XI. Albuquerque was an able statesman, highly educated and de¬ voted to the King, but was prone to see in political opponents personal enemies who ought to be removed. Maria, a hard and vindictive woman, shared his jealousy and intolerance. Shortly after Pedro’s enthronement, she ordered, no doubt with her son’s consent, the arrest and execution of her rival, Leonor.2 But the foul act backfired. It aroused deep resentment among the great nobles who had been close associates of Alfonso XI and friends of his assassinated mistress. Judging by the evidence, only Leonor’s sons, espe¬ cially Enrique, Count of Trastamara, displayed tendencies of rebellion,3 while some of the nobles expressed their opposition merely by criticisms of the regime. The main target of these criticisms was Albuquerque, the master¬ mind of the government’s policies, who assumed virtually dictatorial powers. Under his influence, young Pedro soon treated all critics as rebels who must be destroyed. In the purge that followed, many nobles were seized and brutally dispatched without trial.4 This stamped Pedro in the eyes of many, from the outset, as a ruthless, lawless and tyrannic king. The reign thus began with vengeance and bloodshed, the twin evils that marked its whole course; and it was unfortunate for the Jews that the initiator of this course was Albuquerque, their staunch defender. Albuquerque brought into the royal administration his own financial steward, Samuel ha-Levi, and made him Tesorero Mayor of the realm.5 Don Samuel became a great favorite of the King,6 so much so that he dared take a stand against his patron, when Albuquerque clashed with the King on an issue that caused a break in their relations. Don Samuel actually replaced Albuquerque as the King’s chief favorite and minister. He also became a member of the Royal Council7—an appointment dictated by his manifold responsibilities and his close friendship with the king. Don Samuel was one of the foremost courtiers the Jews of Christian Spain had ever had. Only Joseph de Ecija and Abraham el Barchilon possibly matched him in influence.8 Both his rapid rise to honor and power and his tragic fate after ten years of service cast their shadow on the period of transition which ended with the catastrophe of 1391. Don Samuel assumed his high royal office when Spain was still smarting from the afflictions of the plague, and popular hostility to the Jews was rising in both Castile and Aragon.9 To be sure, in 1350 Spain did not permit such atrocities against the Jews as those perpetrated in Savoy, Switzerland and Germany during the Black Death. Of all regions of Spain, only Catalonia witnessed assaults upon the Jews during the plague10; Castile saw no evi¬ dence of them. But this does not mean that hostility to the Jews was milder

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in Castile than elsewhere in the peninsula. The petitions addressed to Pedro I in Cortes (Valladolid, 1351) gave clear evidence of this attitude." The cities demanded that the Jews be segregated, live in separate boroughs, and be marked off as inferior both in appearance and in civil rights. Thus, they asked the King that Jews be forbidden to use Christian names, wear precious clothes, and engage Christian nurses for their infants.12 It is amazing that such matters occupied their minds at a time when the kingdom was beset with urgent problems touching the health, security and livelihood of the great majority of the people. Indeed, from the proceedings of the same Cortes we learn that the country was filled with bands of brigands who, “fearing neither God, nor the king, nor his punishment,” caused “many deaths, destructions of Churches, highway robberies, thefts, rapes, abductions and imprisonments,” so that one could no longer feel safe in his domicile.13 As for the economic condition of the people, we can assess it from the fact that the procurators petitioned to repeal the law enacted in the Cortes of Alcala (1348) forbidding the Jews to lend money at interest.14 So barely three years after they had won the hard-fought battle of “Jewish usury,” the cities abandoned the fruit of their victory and requested the restoration of the status quo ante. What could prove more decisively the hollowness of their claim, repeated by them for over a century, that the Jews’ lending money at interest had ruined them (and should therefore be prohib¬ ited) or demonstrate more clearly the flimsiness of their pretext (the Church law by which they “justified” that demand)? Now as before, what they sought to attain was relief from their material woes and hardships, which stemmed from a half-feudal economy that could not adapt itself to the nascent mercan¬ tilism, but which they blamed, out of hatred, on the Jews, whose offers of credit could only alleviate—though by no means remove—the evils of the system. One cannot fail to be astonished at the insolence, as well as the absence of any sense of shame, manifested in their efforts to degrade the Jews while seeking to get vital help from them through renewal of the money lend¬ ing they had so reviled. No wonder they asked the King to withdraw the permit the Jews had received to buy land (near the Duero) as a substitute source of income when their right to lend money was abolished.15 Not only did they want the Jews to be allowed to engage in the “sinful” profession; they apparently sought to have them placed in a condition that might compel them to engage in it extensively. The royal response to the aforesaid petitions was virtually negative. The King, his answer said, would look into the matter and act in accordance with what would serve his interests and the interests of the land.16 The royal response represented, in effect, the decision of the chief minister, Al¬ buquerque, “through whom were made and passed [at the time] all the decrees of the Kingdom,”17 while the latter’s moves with respect to the Jews

96 ]

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were made, in all likelihood, after having been approved by his friend and counselor Samuel ha-Levi, now treasurer of Castile. Many Jews must have come to the conclusion that moneylending under the new conditions was a most uncertain business. In view of the cancellation of a quarter of all debts owed by Christians tojews under contractual agreements,18 and the repeated moratoria decreed on these debts by Alfonso XI since 1345,19 moneylending came closer to loss than to profit, and there was no clear reason for the Jews to engage in it and give up their right to buy land. Indubitably, the cities saw a Jewish influence in the King’s unsatisfactory response to their petition, as well as in his refusal to grant the moratorium they requested on debts “owed by Christians tojews.”20 That Don Samuel was believed to have inspired these answers may be taken for granted. It was perhaps already at that time that Count Enrique saw in the King’s pro-Jewish policy and the growing influence of Don Samuel at Court an excuse to stir up public hatred for Don Pedro and a way to mobilize support for himself—if, in contrast to the King, he appeared as the Jews’ enemy and the champion of the people’s cause. It was not easy for him to take such a stance as long as the government was run by Albuquerque. But when a rift developed between the minister and Don Pedro, and Don Samuel took the King’s side, Enrique thought that the opportunity he was waiting for had at last arrived. The cause of the rift was Albuquerque’s choice of bride for the young King of Castile. Both he and Pedro’s mother, the strong-willed Queen, wanted him to marry Blanche of Bourbon, niece of the king of France. Pedro, however, was then enamored of the daughter of one of his second-rank nobles—Marfa de Padilla—whom he may even have secretly married. Forced by Al¬ buquerque and his domineering mother, Pedro went through a marriage ceremony with Blanche, but left his wife two days after the wedding in favor of his paramour, Maria de Padilla.21 His mother was furious. She would not allow her son to repeat the same evil that his father, Alfonso, had committed against her. Albuquerque supported her for political reasons; and drawing to their side many nobles and cities, they thought they might compel the young prince to mend his ways and smother a burgeoning scandal. Actually, they managed to split the kingdom and bring it to the verge of civil war. 1 o be sure, Albuquerque and the widowed Queen did not intend to topple Pedro s rule. But some of the nobles gathered around them may have fostered conspiratorial schemes. Such schemes, in any case, were doubtless on the mind of Count Enrique de Trastamara who, rather incredibly, joined the party of Queen Maria, the presumed murderess of his mother. Enrique would permit no moral principle, no consideration of decency and honor, to hinder his political ambitions. His goal was to destroy Don Pedro and replace him as king of Castile.

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Carefully concealing his real aims, he appeared in the guise of defender of Queen Blanche, whose wounded honor he was out to restore. He intended to transform the widespread disapproval of Pedro’s mistreatment of his wife, the Queen, into a national anti-Pedro mood, which might soon assume a rebellious character. Before long he confided his plans to some friends, who must have approved them and promised support. For he finally decided to make a bold move which, he hoped, would lead to insurrection. His plan was to capture Toledo, in whose alcazar Queen Blanche was held prisoner, and turn it into the headquarters of the rebels and a rallying point in defense of the Queen. He enlisted the aid of his brother Fadrique who, as Master of Santiago, could place at his disposal some troops of his great military order. The decision to act was probably taken before May 1355, when Enrique met his brother at Talavera, accompanied by a small army.22 It may have been prompted by the King’s arrival in Torrijos (only five leagues from Toledo), which aroused their suspicion that he was going to Toledo to transfer the Queen from the alcazar of that city to a better-guarded fortress. As this would have wrecked their entire plan, they resolved to act without delay. Approaching Toledo at the head of eight hundred cavalry, they were met outside the city by the local nobility, who inquired about the purpose of their coming. They had come, they answered, in fulfillment of their pledge to aid the people of Toledo to defend Queen Blanche. It seemed to them that the Toledans might need such aid now, since the King, who was in the neighbor¬ hood of Toledo, might come to the city and cause harm to the Queen. The caballeros replied that, at that very moment, their emissaries were trying to influence the King to take a more conciliatory attitude toward the Queen, and if at this point they were to receive his brothers, along with their military force, into the city, they might undermine the delicate negotiations.23 This exchange took place near the Gate of San Martin, the principal entrance to Toledo, and ended in a stalemate. The Count and the Master could not persuade the caballeros to open the gate to their troops. But other Toledans, who were no doubt anxious to have Count Enrique among them at the time, guided him to the Gate of Alcantara, which apparently was under their control. There the brothers entered the city, and immediately saw to it that all the gates of Toledo should be placed at their command.24 Pero Lopez de Ayala, the historian of the reign, who wrote his Cronica de Don Pedro after having joined Enrique, offers us no coherent account of the Count’s first moves in the city. His narrative, however, contains some intima¬ tions which, combined with other extant data, are sufficient to convince us that what then happened in Toledo was part of a well-prepared plan. According to Ayala, the nobles of Toledo were unevenly divided in their

98 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

attitude to Enrique, but only a few were prepared to help him. While most nobles turned to the alcazar, where they sought to defend themselves and the Queen, some of them went to thejewish fortress to aid its Jewish defenders.25 This suggests that Enrique, upon entering the city, revealed to the nobles his plan to turn it into an anti-Pedro stronghold. That he failed to obtain their approval of his plan is apparent from Ayala’s account of their reaction, as well as from the fact that when the King regained the city, he did not punish a single nobleman. In contrast, he imposed draconian sentences on many commoners for having collaborated with the Count. Yet it is unlikely that this collaboration, which amounted to an actual rebellion against the King, was agreed on by distinguished men of the community within a few hours after the Count’s arrival. Enrique must have been in touch with their spokesmen well before he came to the city, and it was no doubt they who opened to him the Gate of Alcantara.26 1 he night following his arrival in Toledo determined the fate of his adventure, for during that night Enrique attempted to capture the juderia of the city. Undoubtedly, the attempt was part of his plan to seize Castile’s capital city, as it was impossible to hold Toledo without controlling its walled Jewish borough. Enrique was anxious to accomplish this task as quickly as possible, since he was aware that the King and his army were only five leagues away from the city. The juderia, he reasoned, must be captured before Pedro learned of what was happening in Toledo and could come with his army to its rescue. Obviously, every hour counted. Nevertheless, before assailing the fort, he ordered his soldiers to attack the smaller juderia, known as Alcana, which was situated beyond the main Jewish quarter and was not protected by any fortification. The soldiers, Ayala adds, “robbed and killed the Jews they found there, men and women, adults and small children, to the number of 1,200 souls.”27 What was the purpose of this terrible massacre, which cost precious time, delayed the attack on the main juderia, and thereby endangered the entire undertaking? Ayala s cronica says nothing to explain this. Enrique’s reasons, however, can be clearly gathered from the sequence of his activities in Toledo and his published motives on similar occasions. The massacre of the Jews was meant to secure for him the support of Toledo’s Christian populace, which was bursting with anti-Jewish feelings, and this is why he gave it first priority on his T oledan agenda. But this was not all he expected to gain from it. In fact, by that action he sought to demonstrate to all Spaniards where he stood on thejewish question and thereby enlist the support of all Jew haters in all the towns and cities of Castile. From what we know of this Toledan affair, we must conclude that the plan of the Alcana massacre had likewise been known to his collaborators in the city and approved, if not advised, by them before he came to Toledo.

THE

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[ 99

When the fortified juderia was attacked, the Jews and some of the loyalist nobles defended the borough with fierce determination. No sign of surrender was shown by the besieged even when the assailants began to penetrate the fortress through several breaches they made in the walls.28 The outcome of the struggle now depended solely on the defenders’ capacity to hold back Enrique’s troops. But matters did not come to that crucial test. King Pedro, informed of what was happening in the city, rushed to the aid of his faithful subjects. When he came to Toledo, he found all its gates firmly held by Enrique’s men, and he had to storm the bridge of San Martin and set the wooden gate on fire. But at the same time he did something else. Fearing that the resistance of the juderia might be crumbling, he ordered three hundred of his troops to attempt an entry into it from the side where the Tagus was its natural barrier. The river was exceptionally shallow that year, and the King’s men were therefore able to cross it with the aid of cords the Jews had thrown them from their ramparts. That is, says Ayala, how Pedro’s soldiers joined “those of his party in the castle of tho. juderia."29 Enrique, who failed to prevent the King’s entry, was soon forced into headlong retreat. He left the city as he had entered it—that is, through the gate of Alcantara—and made his way in the direction of Toro, where many discontented nobles had assembled. Pedro was in no hurry to follow him. He first saw to it that Queen Blanche should be removed from the alcazar of Toledo, where she was imprisoned, to the castle of Sigiienza, which he now placed under more trustworthy command.30 Then he looked for Enrique’s supporters and imposed harsh penalties upon the culprits. He executed some of Enrique’s men who had been left behind during his hasty escape and sentenced twenty-four leading citizens (omes buenos) to death. According to Ayala, these men were thus punished for “having conspired with Enrique to rouse the city in revolt.”31 Nevertheless, it seems that they were punished for their share in the Alcana massacre too, both because it was a major crime that Pedro, as king, could in no way tolerate, and because the destruction of the Jews was regarded by the rebels as a means and an end of their insurrection. In the Letter of Forgiveness that he sent to the city on October 12,1355 (almost five months after the uprising), from his army camp besieging Toro, Pedro excluded from forgiveness the Toledan Moors and ten Christian individuals, all commoners, for having committed outrages against “my Jews.”32 The above exceptions, together with the death sentences he issued against the omes buenos, as well as the fact that no death sentence was pronounced against any of Toledo’s nobles, show that Enrique’s base of popularity was among the common people. There could be no reason for that popularity at the time except for Enrique’s presumed intention to destroy Toledan Jewry. Un¬ doubtedly many of Toledo’s Christians favored that intention. They viewed

IOO ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

the elimination of the Jews from the city as their reward for supporting Enrique’s party. This fierce anti-Jewish mood was not limited to Toledo. Enrique used it to build a following for himself in other cities as well. In consequence, he soon became known as the standard-bearer of the anti-Jewish movement, and support for his political position became identified with opposition to the Jews. The most violent Jew haters among the cities’ lower classes were inclined to flock to his banner, and where the city’s nobility was aligned with Enrique, the masses—in accordance with their habitual reaction—were em¬ boldened to plan bloody assaults upon the Jews. This is what happened in Cuenca. Alvar Garcia Albornoz was a leading nobleman who, in the days of Alfonso XI, was closely associated with the king and his mistress Leonor de Guzman. He raised their young son Don Sancho (b. 1340) and now kept him under his protection in Cuenca, which was the base of his political power. He and the clique of nobles about him were considered Enrique’s natural allies, and Cuencans of all classes became vociferous critics of King Pedro and his regime. We do not know whether the urban elite intended to take part in Enrique’s plan; but they probably tolerated, if they did not encourage, the popular outbreak against the Jews in Cuenca. In any case, that outbreak reflected Enrique’s wishes, was in full accord with his schemes and aims, and of course betrayed a rebellious stand against King Pedro. Unlike the atrocities committed in Toledo, those perpetrated against the Jews of Cuenca occurred without Enrique’s presence and without the aid of outside soldiers. They were the work of the citizens of Cuenca themselves, who could not possibly have achieved their ends without the knowledge and consent of the local nobility. Both the invasion of the juderia and the capture of its towers, where many of the Jews had fled for shelter, could not be accomplished without causingjewish casualties along with massive plunder; but, in addition, some Jews were imprisoned and others, men and women, banished from the city on the ground that they supported the position of the King.33 Pedro left Toledo for Cuenca, intending to stifle the agitation there against him and punish the assailants of the Jews. But fearing his punishment, both nobles and commoners shut the city gates against him. Cuenca was a strongly fortified place, and Pedro knew he could not take it by assault. To reduce it under siege would take a long time, and Pedro was anxious to go to Toro, where his chief adversaries, headed by Enrique, had assembled under his mother’s aegis. He therefore concluded an agreement with Albornoz, by which he undertook to withdraw from the city and pardon its citizens for their misdeeds in return for Albornoz’ and the city’s commitment to stay

THE

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SCENE

[iOI

loyal to the Crown. The King kept his promise regarding the pardon,34 and the blood of the Jews shed in Cuenca was to remain unrequited. Pedro was not admitted to Toro, but took the city after a long siege. He allowed the Queen Mother to leave for Portugal after he had killed several nobles in her presence.35 He also granted Enrique, who had escaped to Galicia, a safe-conduct to France.36 When Albornoz, the lord of Cuenca, learned of the fate of the Toro conspirators, he feared that the King would now return to his city and punish him for his alliance with the rebels. He made haste to take young Sancho, his protege, and leave with him for Aragon.37

II

Pedro was now at the height of his power. His four-year conflict with the nobles of the opposition had ended in his complete victory. His financial condition appeared promising as his treasurer, Don Samuel, had developed new methods for the collection of the revenues.38 Pedro, it seemed, could now enjoy peace; but this was not to be his fate, or the fate of Castile during his reign. Less than a year after his victory at Toro he was embroiled in a war against Aragon—a bloody and costly war which lasted ten years and ulti¬ mately led to his ruin. P. E. Russell, whose study of Don Pedro is rich in illuminating data, tried to place responsibility for the war on Aragon’s king, Pedro IV, called by his people the Ceremonious,39 The truth, however, is that the king of Castile was the main instigator of that war. It was legitimate for Don Pedro to seek satisfaction from Aragon for an offense against his honor and Castilian inter¬ ests committed by one of Aragon’s ship captains, but he placed before the Ceremonious such “terms of satisfaction” as no self-respecting monarch could accept.40 Furthermore, it was the Castilian king who had started the war by invading Aragon, and thus he was clearly the aggressor. Had he not attacked Aragon as he did, there would probably have been no war. These are plain facts that cannot be ignored; and yet they do not explain everything. The remaining question is: What was behind the facts? National interests or personal impulses? Some modern historians believe that the truth should be looked for in the first direction,41 while earlier scholars, including the old chroniclers, opted for the second. Thus, according to Ayala, Pedro rushed into the war because he was an addict of combats, “because he had always loved wars,”42 whereas Balaguer, in his Historia de Cataluna (i860), says that it was the “impudence of a Catalonian mariner and the haughtiness of D. Pedro the Cruel of Castile that ignited the war” between Castile and Aragon 43 This does not mean, how-

10 2]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

ever, that Pedro’s assumed faults were not shared in large measure by his antagonist. In fact, Balaguer, in his final assessment, seems to apportion blame equally to both kings; both, as he put it, were known to have “demonstrated tendencies of domination, rage, and arrogance,” and both were “at bottom desirous of the war.”44 This view approaches that of Zurita, who attributed to both kings “ferocious spirits bent on vengeance rather than on clem¬ ency.”45 Pedro attacked Aragon by both land and sea and carried the war into the enemy’s domain. He emerged victorious from most battles and took from Aragon many towns and much land; but the war dragged on for five years, and finally, in May 1361, Pedro concluded a peace treaty in Terrer by whose terms he was to return to Aragon all the towns and territories he had captured. What moved Pedro to make a treaty by which he lost all that he had gained in five years of hard and bitter conflict? Several theories have been advanced,46 but none of them seems satisfactory. The answer may be found in the impact of three factors (financial, political and military), and three personalities (Samuel ha-Levi, Count Enrique and Juan Fernandez de Henestrosa) whose misfortunes, failures, or achievements at the time in¬ fluenced Pedro’s decision. Juan Fernandez de Henestrosa was uncle of Maria de Padilla, Pedro’s beloved since his youth and later his legally recognized wife. Undoubtedly the King’s most trusted counselor, he was Major Chancellor of the Secret Seal (Sello de Poridad) and one of Castile’s chief military captains. Zurita says that the “King of Aragon hated him intensely, as he was blamed more than others for inducing Pedro to persevere in his stand [against Aragon] and continue in the prosecution of the war.”47 In September 1359, however, Henestrosa died in the battle of Araviana, and the war party of Castile had thereby lost one of its most passionate advocates. It is possible that without Henestrosa s influence, the protagonists of peace managed to sway Pedro to listen more attentively to their counsels. Enrique de 1 rastamara was certainly the chief villain in the drama of Pedro s life. From the moment he reached France in 1355, he kept denigrating Pedro as

King of the Jews,” who had delivered Castile into their hands, as

was evidenced, so he claimed, from the activities of Don Samuel, whom Pedro appointed Chief Treasurer of the kingdom and virtually chief ruler of the country. Moreover, Enrique spread the story that Pedro was actually the son oi ajewess who was exchanged for the King’s newborn daughter with her own mothers consent.48 From the time of his arrival in Aragon, as ally of its king (August 1356), he continued to disseminate these calumnies against Pedro, which were carried into Castile and avidly repeated there. At the

same time, he kept portraying himself as champion of the rights of his Christian countrymen and as enemy of their Jewish oppressors. He also demonstrated this enmity in practice. While fighting on Aragon’s side, he invaded Castile in March or April 1360, at the head of a thousand horse and three thousand infantry, and occupied some towns on the right bank of the Ebro which were the home of old Jewish communities. On reaching Najera, he urged its Christian citizens to join his soldiers in massa¬ cring the Jews. “The killing of the Jews of Najera,” says Ayala, “was ordered by Count Enrique because the people [of the town] did it willingly and because the very deed made them fearful of the King and consequently led them to take the Count’s side.”49 He employed the same method of gaining adherents also in other places he seized, among them the town of Miranda de Ebro, whose Jewish community, like that of Najera, dated from the nth century. Don Pedro, who moved eastward from Burgos, forced Enrique to retreat toward the border, but while pursuing his enemy he stopped at Miranda because the Christian residents of the town, as Ayala tells us, “had robbed the Jews there and joined the party of the Count.”50 The word “robbed” in the statement just cited does not indicate merely a sack; it stands for a pogrom that included a massacre, as may be gathered clearly from the broader account in the Cronica Abreviada. According to this cronica, the Christians of the town “robbed and killed" their Jewish neighbors and “joined Enrique’s party.”S1 Thus, as in Toledo five years before, Enrique now believed that he could gain the people’s aid by showing himself as the nemesis of the Jews. King Pedro, on the other hand, considered it his duty to see to it that justice be done and that those who killed and robbed Castilian Jews be treated as rebels. Convinced as he was that only great fear might arrest tendencies to break the law, he inflicted frightful punishments on the culprits. Thus, he executed in Miranda de Ebro at least five of the town’s citizens, probably the organizers of the pogrom, one of whom he ordered to be boiled and another to be roasted in his presence.52 These gruesome punishments curbed the pogromist movement, but they increased the people’s hatred of Pedro and aug¬ mented Enrique’s following. This is precisely what Enrique expected. Both his invitation to assail the Jews and Pedro’s harsh treatment of their assailants served his purpose; for both increased his popularity in the cities, especially among the lower classes. All this was made possible because hatred of the Jews had reached such extremes that killing them was no longer considered a crime by the majority of the populace; in fact, it was regarded as commendable—an act which “the people did willingly,” as the historian Ayala affirms. Enrique recognized these facts and concluded that they could be of great use to his campaign.

1

°4 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

Only a few historians who dealt with Pedro’s reign paid due attention to the major part played by antisemitism in Enrique’s rise to power and, conse¬ quently, in the radical change that took place in Castile’s dynasty and the condition of its noble class.53 What ought to be especially emphasized in this connection is the fact that Enrique was the first nobleman in Spain to use antisemitism as an instrument of propaganda and a means of attaining political control. In later times other Castilian nobles would follow in his footsteps.

Pedro no doubt realized that Enrique’s campaign against the Jews was a maneuver conducted against him, but he knew of no strategy by which he could defeat it. It may indeed have occurred to him that because he was losing the war at home, he could not win it abroad.

Ill

Pedro’s inability to cope with the Jewish question eventually left its mark on his administration, which was run, virtually from the start of the war, by Don Samuel ha-Levi. Toward the end of 1360, his relations with Don Samuel must have taken a sharp turn for the worse, and soon deteriorated to a point where Don Samuel was imprisoned, charged with embezzlement, and tor¬ tured to exact from him detailed information about the hiding places of his treasures. He died under the hands of the King’s torturers, probably around the middle of 1361.54 What was it that so radically changed the king’s attitude toward the man who was his “very great favorite,” who stood by him during all his tribula¬ tions and followed him in the thick of his struggles? The old chroniclers do not offer much to go by, and modern historians have dealt little with the question, as if the issue involved was of minor importance and had no bearing on the fortunes of the reign. Most likely, however, it had a great bearing, for it must have affected Pedro’s state of mind and the crucial decisions he took at the time. Amador de los Rios evidently attempted to solve the mystery of Don Samuel’s death. He did not offer a hypothetical explanation which, in view of the limits imposed by the sources, would be the most that could be expected; but his inquisitive mind led him to pose several important ques¬ tions. Why did King Pedro destroy his Jewish favorite? “Did he propose,” asked Amador, “to remove all pretexts for the libelous rumors by which he was defamed in both Castile and abroad? Did he aspire to satisfy the com¬ plaints of the clergy? Did he pretend at last to change his policy toward the cities which were oppressed by Don Samuel’s severe administration?” Or perhaps could “such a disruption of relations and such a death be explained, as some have claimed, only by the King’s avarice?”ss To these pertinent queries of Amador a few more may be added. Was Don Samuel’s sudden

THE

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[ I05

downfall connected with the state of Castile’s finances? Was it related to Castile’s military condition? Did it have anything to do with the peace treaty with Aragon that Pedro was about to conclude? These queries go beyond the Jewish question, as well as the specific tasks of treasurer which Don Samuel performed in the administration. Since the case of Don Samuel touches the fate of the last great Hispano-Jewish courtier, we shall digress for a moment to consider the activities and, what is more important, the general situation of the Jewish courtiers in Spain.

IV

The common view of this situation is based on the assumption that the functions of the Jewish Chief Treasurers in Spain were limited to the provi¬ sion of funds. But this prevalent assumption is wrong; and perhaps no other misconception related to the subject has done more to obscure historical reality. It must be conceded that almost any Jew who reached the high position of the King’s Chief Treasurer was endowed not only with financial skills, but with a broad understanding of various problems affected by the realm’s economic condition. Some of these problems touched foreign rela¬ tions, including decisions on war and peace, and the Chief Treasurer was impelled by the duties of his office, if by nothing else, to make his views on all critical developments known in due time to the King. This was the source of the close contacts that evolved between the monarchs and their Jewish financiers. But it was also a source of bitter resentment that some Christian courtiers, whose authority was affected, felt toward the Jews’ frequent inter¬ ference in the spheres of their own responsibility. Yet the close association of the Jewish treasurer with the King, and the advice he gave him on a great many matters, also involved him in the internal conflicts of the realm. It was natural for the King to trust and consult one group of nobles more than the others, and since the Jewish courtier had no choice but to side with the party of the King’s favorites, he inevitably made their opponents his enemies. Thus he became involved in fierce power struggles, which he was often believed to have affected by his influence on the King or on some of the grandees. Despite the scanty remarks on this subject in the medieval Spanish chronicles, it is apparent that the Jews’ participation in Spain’s politics was constant, and sometimes far-reaching. We have touched on one of the important factors that made the condition of the Jewish courtiers in Spain at once strong and precarious. Don Samuel ha-Levi was not the first Jewish courtier to be executed by a Castilian king. He was preceded by two others who were sentenced to death by Alfonso X (one of whom was the famous Qag de la Maleha), and by Samuel ibn Wakar,

io6 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

who died under torture while imprisoned by Alfonso XI. It is hard to conjecture, and impossible to determine, how the deadly intrigue against any of them started and who was instrumental in promoting it. Since the Jewish courtier faced the constant enmity not only of his rivals (usually nobles) but also of the burghers who sought to replace him, as well as of the Church, which denied his right to office, plans for his removal from the royal Court could be contrived in many quarters. Yet we do not know of a single Jewish treasurer or any other Jewish high official at Court who resigned his position of his own volition. They realized that they were on dangerous ground, and yet they refused to abandon it. Why? Material gains alone cannot possibly explain this stubborn adherence to such hazardous positions. Other factors were involved which must be taken into account. The striving for equality and a dignified status—which was latent in the thinking of all Jewish minorities—was given in the particular circumstances of Spain an opportunity to be realized more than elsewhere. The Jewish courtier symbolized that opportunity and, in a way, fulfilled that striving. Then there was the political urge, which had been awakened early in the life of Spain’s Jews and became intensified in the course of genera¬ tions—an urge which is stronger than any possible menace to life, health, and fortune. In addition, most of these courtiers felt that the opportunity afforded them by their position to wield influence upon the King was the one strong shield protecting their community against the designs of its enemies. It was a call of duty they could not ignore.

V

Don Samuel must have encountered the same difficulties that were met by otherjewish officials and experienced the same hostile reaction from various Christian sources. It may even be assumed that the hostility for him was especially intense and widespread, since the tasks he performed in the gov¬ ernance of the kingdom were more numerous, and touched the interests of more people, than those performed by his Jewish predecessors. The Spanish sources do not say a word about his activity in foreign affairs, but two non-Spanish documents (one Hebrew and one Portuguese) attest his efforts in this field.56 Even more far-reaching must have been his involvement in the internal conflicts of the realm. Early in his association with the royal Court, he had to take a stand against Albuquerque, the king’s half-brother Count Enrique, and their various powerful allies. Other crucial issues raised in later years must also have forced him to take similar positions, and inevitably he became the target of denunciations by nobles and commoners alike.57 Even if he had not served a king like Pedro, who was, to say the least, controversial, the mere

THE

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[ 1°7

occupation of his high office was sufficient to make him, as Jew, a target. But he did serve a king whose ruthless behavior made the task of his minister all the more difficult, and this in the midst of a civil war, when feelings of hatred ran high on all sides and when a Jewish official could easily be accused of many of his king’s misdeeds. That he was not responsible for Pedro’s atroci¬ ties need hardly be pointed out; but that he was often believed to have had a share in them cannot be doubted either. What produced that belief was the rising antisemitism that then pervaded Castilian society, as well as the fact that Don Samuel’s influence was in many spheres truly decisive. Not only the Jew haters but also the Jews considered him the leading minister of Castile. In their view, he held the highest place ever attained by a Jew in Spain.58 It was virtually inevitable that so great an influence confronted with such a fierce hatred would lead to tragic consequences. But besides the above factors which worked for that end, Don Samuel was beset by a further difficulty of a particularly disturbing nature. This was the ruthless competi¬ tion he encountered from other Jewish courtiers. Here, too, we touch a phenomenon that was not peculiar to Don Samuel, but common to many royal courtiers who arose among the Jews of Spain. Politics breeds jealousies, hatreds and fierce struggles in all peoples and at all times, and the Jewish magnates of Spain, like all seekers of power, did not always achieve their goals by fair means. Nevertheless, in Spanish Jewry these contests had long been controlled—that is, limited to forms that did not endanger the lives of the contenders. Gradually, however, they became more ferocious, and in the generation of Don Samuel, if not decades earlier, they assumed a murderous character. Perhaps it was the enormous wealth gath¬ ered by Jewish courtiers from tax farming that raised the passion for power of some of them to levels heretofore unknown in Spanish Jewry; or it may have been the influence of the Spanish nobility, which seldom shrank from the use of foul means in order to attain selfish ends. Be that as it may, Don Samuel ha-Levi, like Don Joseph de Ecija and others before him, was con¬ fronted with insidious plots fomented by his Jewish rivals.59 According to the Sumario de los Reyes de Espana, “several Toledan Jews, jealous of the favor the King had shown Don Samuel,” told the King that Don Samuel was the “richest man in the world,” because he has “robbed your Kingdoms for more than twenty years.” They suggested that the King should ask him for the money he had stolen from his revenues, and if he refused to comply, put him to the torture. As the story goes, the King asked Don Samuel for a loan of two thousand gold marks, which he badly needed as dowry for his children. The King also suggested that the loan be paid from the taxes the Treasurer was about to gather. Don Samuel’s response, however, was inflex¬ ibly negative: he could not lend the King even a single mark. Infuriated, Don Pedro ordered his arrest.60

io8 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

The legendary character of this story, as well as its antisemitic theme, scarcely needs demonstration. Its purpose was to depict the Jewish Treasurer not only as an embezzler who had robbed the Spanish people, but also as an ingrate, a person so mean as to refuse even a modest loan to the King, his benefactor, when the latter found himself in financial straits. The charge of embezzlement has never been proven, and no doubt merely rested on the immense fortunes discovered in Don Samuel’s possession.61 But this discov¬ ery in itself cannot explain his arrest any more than the clearly fictitious assertion that he had rudely refused the King’s request for a loan. Don Samuel no doubt acquired his great wealth from the profits he amassed during his long service as Treasurer (of both Albuquerque and the King) and from the investments he made with those profits. He had no need to resort to illegal means to become a millionaire, or even a multimillionare, and he would not have been so rude and foolish as to refuse the King a personal favor, which he could easily do. But if so, the puzzling question remains: What caused the breach between the King and his favorite and the quarrel that must have preceded it? Ayala, who devotes a chapter in his Cronica to Don Samuel’s imprisonment and financial assets, does not say that his incarceration was based on a charge or suspicion of fraud. In fact, he does not tell us what the charge was. But the arrest of Don Samuel, along with all his relatives, and the immediate confis¬ cation of their possessions, was in accordance with the King’s treatment of culprits whom he had sentenced, before their imprisonment, to death.62 We must therefore assume that Don Pedro’s harsh sentence against his Chief Treasurer sprang from some fault he ascribed to him, and that this alleged fault was viewed by the King as highly injurious to the realm. If our analysis of the sources has led us to reject the oft-repeated notion that Don Samuel’s fall was due to his misappropriation of the King’s revenues (a notion dismissed, among others, by Amador63), our attempt to present a more plausible reason is based on a hypothetical explanation. Our hypothesis relates the downfall of Don Samuel to a major event that occurred at the time—namely, the cessation of the war with Aragon and Pedro’s consent to the Peace of Terrer. We have asked: What moved Pedro to sign that humiliating peace? And the answer, we believe, should be looked for in Castile’s economic condition.

VI

Don Pedro, in all likelihood, suddenly discovered that his treasury was exhausted and that he was financially in no position to continue the war, or even keep all the places he had won from Aragon.64 While immersed in his battles against the enemy, Pedro relied on his able Treasurer to supply him

THE

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SCENE

[ I09

with the funds necessary for the war; and Don Samuel undoubtedly did his utmost to meet the King’s financial needs. But following the failure of Pedro’s naval effort (June 1359), which was preceded by the costly provision of his fleet, and the losses his generals suffered in Castile (Sept. 1359), Don Samuel must have found that the kingdom’s resources were in an extremely precari¬ ous state. We may assume that the King presented to him one day, following his extensive counter-attacks, which carried him back to the far north (Najera, April 1360), a plan for a new land campaign based on the mobilization of additional forces. This of course required a large outlay of money, and the King may have proposed the imposition of new taxes. Don Samuel, however, who knew the people’s mood and how weary they were of the endless war, was also well aware of their economic hardships and the shortages under which they labored. He may have realized that it would be next to impossible to exact heavy taxes from them at the time. Consequently, he may have opposed the King’s proposal and sought to lead him gradually to the conclu¬ sion that the best solution for Castile under the circumstances was to find a way out of the war. Don Pedro, enraged, may have accused his Treasurer of failure to apprise him in due time of the kingdom’s true financial situation, thereby endangering—or even annulling—his triumphs and the sacrifices of the army. We may imagine other arguments tossed in both directions, but the result was that the King became disenchanted with Don Samuel, and ac¬ cused him of criminal negligence and a desire to end the war against his wishes. This, we believe, may have been the main cause of the rupture between the two men, and this may have provided the historic kernel of the account we have cited from the Sumario de los Reyes—namely, that the conflict between Don Samuel and the King evolved from a quarrel over money.6S There may have been, however, also another cause which served to deepen the breach, and that cause, too, may have been reflected in the Sumarios story.

VII

Pedro no doubt felt that he must do something radical to counteract the charge that he was “king of the Jews,” fighting a Jewish war, and bleeding the people to attain Jewish ends. Perhaps it was under the impact of that feeling that he resolved to remove Don Samuel from his post. He began to look for a suitable excuse to dismiss his most able and devoted servant, and this inclined him to listen to the hostile hints that Don Samuel’s rivals, Jewish tax farmers and courtiers, directed against him from time to time. Encouraged by the King’s altered attitude toward his favorite and his willingness to hear accusations against him, one of these courtiers may have suggested that Don

no]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

Samuel could not have acquired his huge fortune legally and hence that he must have stolen large sums from the King’s revenues. Don Pedro was certainly too shrewd to attribute any substance to such charges, but in his agitated state of mind at the time, he could have been induced to permit an inquiry into the assets of his Chief Treasurer. Understandably, Don Samuel was so offended by the suspicion and, above all, by the way he was treated by Don Pedro—the king whom he had served so devotedly and unflinch¬ ingly—that he refused to answer his investigators’ questions. He was trans¬ ferred to Seville, where he was put to the torture, but he retained his pride—and his silence—to the end.66 Perhaps Don Pedro expected the investigation to end differently.67 In any case, he was now freed from the embarrassment that the powerful Jewish minister had caused him by his very position in the government. Baer says that Don Samuel’s place was filled by other Jewish tax experts.68 But this is not true. Pedro did not appoint as Chief Treasurer any of the Jewish courtiers or financiers who had intrigued against Don Samuel and hoped to replace him. Nor did he appoint any other Jew to that office. His new Tesorero Mayor was a Christian, Martin Yanez de Sevilla, and “all the revenues and the tax-collections of the Kingdom were now under his control.”69 This was the conclusive proof Pedro gave his countrymen that he was neither a “lover” of the Jews nor their “instrument,” and of course not a Jew himself Both moves may have weakened the impact of the personal campaign conducted against him, although his enemies could still claim that his general policy remained pro-Jewish, without any noticeable change. J. B. Sitges, who devoted many years to the study of Don Pedro’s reign, and who carefully scrutinized almost every incident in the King’s career, com¬ pletely ignores his clash with Don Samuel, whom he nonetheless mentions on other occasions.70 Sitges sought to rehabilitate the King and, above all, clear his stained reputation, and managed to produce a much fairer portrait of Don Pedro than that drawn of him in the cronicas. He presents Pedro as “right” in almost all the disputes where others considered him “wrong” and as “just” where he was generally viewed as “guilty,” although here and there he does not pass in silence over acts of the King which he thought to have been foul. But regarding Pedro’s punishment of Don Samuel, Sitges offers neither explanation nor criticism. He obviously did not accept the embezzle¬ ment theory and therefore could not justify the King’s punishment of Don Samuel. Nor could he denounce that punishment, as he did not detect its real cause. Evidently, he misunderstood it. And his misunderstanding, as we see it, stemmed from his failure to discern the great part the Jewish question played in Spain’s history during Pedro’s reign.

THE

SPANISH

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[MI

VIII

Following the execution of Don Samuel, Yanez, his successor, must have imposed new taxes and begun slowly, if not aggressively, to collect them, and Pedro delayed the withdrawal of his garrisons from most, if not all, of his captured towns. Perhaps the stalemate might ultimately have ended for Don Pedro in a less humiliating peace, leaving some of his Aragonese conquests in his possession. But if there was any prospect of such a peace, it was to prove chimerical in the end. What wrecked it was the interference of En¬ rique, Pedro’s implacable foe. Shortly after the Peace of Terrer, the Count left for France with a new set of arguments with which he believed he could persuade Charles V to lend him support in a drive to smash Pedro and take over the kingdom of Castile. This time the war, he was to point out, would be led by himself and not by the Ceremonious, who was too hesitant in his military moves and too depen¬ dent on the allocations of his Cortes. No doubt he also intended to point out Pedro’s total financial exhaustion, indicated by his peace terms with Aragon and by his quarrel with Don Samuel, his treasurer. In addition, he could stress the disgust the people felt for Pedro’s rule and his war, and assure Charles that one strong blow could now suffice to bring down the hated monarch and establish himself as master of Castile. All he needed from France was to allow him the use of the “White Companies”—that group of mercenaries commit¬ ted to France’s service, who were famed for their great fighting skills no less than for the atrocities they habitually perpetrated against the civil popula¬ tions they happened to encounter. Enrique intended to assure their leader, Bertrand du Guesclin, one of Europe’s great warriors, of rich rewards for his assistance.71 His negotiations with Charles and Guesclin ended well. France, embroiled in her endless war with England, wanted to remove from her southern border a Castile allied to England since 1362. But one major difficulty had to be overcome. To reach Castile, the notorious White Companies would have to pass through Aragon, and the Ceremonious would certainly be reluctant to permit this wild horde to descend upon his country. Enrique went to Aragon and persuaded the Ceremonious to open a narrow corridor for the passage of the mercenaries, in exchange for an enormous prize: he promised him that, once he became king, he would surrender to Aragon about a sixth of Cas¬ tile.72 Pedro learned of the new negotiations between the Count and the Ceremonious, and of the latter’s intent to accept Enrique’s plan. Almost a year had passed since the death of Don Samuel, and in this period he managed to collect new funds and recruit troops for another army. He now had two courses open to him, and he chose the one that was more in accord

,,2]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

with his pride, his ambitions and his bellicose nature. Instead of withdrawing his soldiers from Aragon, as he was obliged to do under the treaty of Terrer,73 and combining them with his new recruits into a force that could meet the newly planned invasion, he decided to launch a lightning attack on Aragon directed at its capital, Saragossa, and aimed at controlling the country’s north, where he might block the entry of the French. It was a wrong decision from every standpoint. Had he adopted the alternative solution, he would have denied the Ceremonious the support of his own people, who, like the Castil¬ ians, were tired of the war and were all hankering for peace. Pedro’s sudden attack, however, gave the Ceremonious an indisputable reason to remobilize his people behind him. Pedro opened his campaign with an attack on Calatayud, which surren¬ dered to him after a long siege,74 and thus cleared his way to Saragossa from the south. He chose, however, first to capture Tarazona, and thus threaten Saragossa from the northwest too.75 The way to the capital seemed open to him, and yet he refrained from besieging it. Instead, he removed his main army to the south, capturing many towns on the way to Valencia, and finally reached that metropolis and besieged it.76 Several theories have been offered to explain why Pedro retreated from Saragossa and chose Valencia as his theater of war. The true reason was probably indicated by Balaguer, who pointed out that, at the crucial moment, the Catalonians were seized by a patriotic ardor and sent to Saragossa a large force of volunteers.77 Pedro must have realized that under these circum¬ stances, he might be bogged down in a long siege, which would deny him any concrete achievement; and he needed a decisive victory quickly to sustain the war effort of his countrymen. He therefore removed his army southward, where he thought he could gain such a victory. But here too he was unpleas¬ antly surprised. The Catalonians sent Valencia a strong naval force, which bolstered its defenses and spirit of resistance.78 Pedro eventually saw no sense in continuing the difficult siege of Valencia and withdrew from that city as well. Before long he found himself again exhausted, not only financially but also militarily, with no decisive victory to his credit and no concentrated force behind him. The Ceremonious, however, was exhausted too, and this time he was ready to sign a peace which left Pedro with many of his conquests. This was a peace that Pedro could live with and that might actually save him from his predicament. But nothing came of it. Considering the peace terms too humil¬ iating for Aragon, the procurators of Catalonia rejected them, and in conse¬ quence the treaty became null and void. Pedro remained stuck with a war he could not finish and could not continue either.

THE

SPANISH

SCENE

[ 113

IX

It was at that moment that Enrique de Trastamara, with his White Compa¬ nies, burst into Castile from its northern region. Since they were met with no opposition, the timing of the invasion could not have been better. Enrique must have correctly assessed the exhaustion and helplessness of his adver¬ sary. Upon reaching Calahorra, close to the border, he declared himself King of Castile, and shortly thereafter, on March 29, ordered his coronation in Burgos. On their way to this city, Enrique’s mercenaries attacked the Jewish community of Briviesca, massacring its two hundred families to a man. As nobody bothered to give the dead burial, “their corpses,” a contemporary author wrote, “served as food to the birds of the sky and the beasts of the field.”79 It can hardly be doubted that this massacre, too (like those of Alcana, Najera and Miranda), was carried out at Enrique’s order (or at least with his consent), as antisemitic slogans were still the watchwords of his anti-Pedro campaign. They appear even in the formal invitation he issued to his corona¬ tion, in which he accused Pedro of having “enslaved” “the whole land” by ‘raising as lords the Moors and the Jews” and “casting down the Catholic faith.”80 In further accord with his anti-Jewish policy, he imposed on the Jewish community of Burgos a fine of one million maravedis—well beyond the community’s means81; and shortly thereafter he declared that all Chris¬ tians were released from their duty to pay their debts to Jews.82 No better encouragement was needed by the Christians in cities such as Avila and Segovia to attack the juderias and rob their residents of the documents attesting their indebtedness to Jews.83 Pedro hastened to Toledo with the hope of obtaining military aid there; but Enrique followed fast in his footsteps and forced him to retreat further to Seville. Upon reaching Toledo, Enrique, styled king, repeated the act of communal robbery he had perpetrated against the Jews of Burgos. Toledo’s Jews, too, were compelled to pay him, within two weeks, 1 million marave¬ dis—a payment which, as in the case of Burgos, exceeded their financial resources. Consequently, it left many of them destitute, while it doomed many others to enslavement.84 By the time Enrique came to Seville, Pedro had already left the city. He went to Gascony, then in English hands, in order to enlist the aid of England. He took with him a portion of the royal treasure, and sent its main part to Portugal in a riverboat commanded by his treasurer, Yanez. But Enrique’s agents in Seville, who followed Yanez, caught up with him and took the treasure. Yanez was brought to Enrique, who hastened to enlist him in his financial service. Was Yanez in collusion with Enrique’s robbers? The conjec¬ ture seems extremely far-fetched. But Pedro, who later sentenced him to death, may have suspected Yanez of betrayal.85 In any case, this entire

I 14 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

episode, which helped, as we shall see, seal Pedro’s fate, would most likely not have occurred if the treasure had been guarded by Don Samuel.

X

Enrique was now ruler of the whole country save Galicia, which remained faithful to Pedro. Believing that the war was virtually over, Enrique now concentrated on building his administration, and with the shameless cyni¬ cism and cold pragmatism that typified all his actions, he now reversed his policy toward the Jews. His antisemitic campaign, which had helped him achieve power, was no longer of any use to him, and he saw no reason to continue it. Consequently, he now looked for able Jewish financiers who could set up for him a tax-gathering system of the kind that had served the needs of his predecessors. Thus, during his visit to Seville he got in touch with two Jewish financiers who had wof been associated with Pedro’s adminis¬ tration and now expressed their willingness to work for him. They were the wealthy and well-known Sevillian Jews Joseph Pichon and Samuel Abravanel. That Enrique entrusted the collection of his revenues to these men, and not to any of the Jews who held such offices under Pedro, was probably due to the latter’s refusal to help Enrique in managing his affairs. As they must have been aware that Pedro was negotiating with the English in Bayonne to secure their assistance, they did not give up hope for his return; and, as long as such hope persisted, they could not enter the service of his enemy. Like most Castile’s Jews, they must have viewed with disapproval, if not severe criticism, the consent of Pichon and Abravanel to aid Enrique— the butcher of Alcana and Najera and the robber ofjewish fortunes. From the outset, therefore, Pichon and Abravanel must have been opposed by the major Jewish tax farmers—a fact that no doubt hindered their efforts to enlist experienced tax gatherers to their service. Nevertheless, it did not take long before the various posts in Enrique’s treasury began to be filled by Jews. If Castile’s leading Jews were dismayed by this development, the antisemites in the country were amazed and enraged. Consequently, “all the cities, towns and places” represented in the Cortes of Burgos (Feb. 1367) reminded Enrique of his former assertions—namely, that “all the evils, damages, deaths and banishments that took place in past times occurred because of the counsels of the Jews who were the favorites and officials of the past Kings” (a broad hint at Samuel ha-Levi). Accordingly, they petitioned Enrique that no Jew should be appointed to any office (including that of physician) in the Courts of the King, the Queen and the Infantes. Enrique answered that never had such a petition been addressed to any other Castilian king and that, although some Jews “move about in our Court (casa), we do not include them

THE

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SCENE

[ 11 5

in our Council” (in contrast to Pedro and Alfonso XI, who did place Jews— Samuel ha-Levi and Joseph Nasi—in their councils) nor “do we grant them such power by means of which they could cause some harm to our land.”86 This, however, was not the only demand the procurators then raised with respect to the Jews. They also wanted the King to appoint Christians as commanders of the fortresses the Jews had been guarding in Castile and asked that the walls encircling thejewish boroughs (such as those in Toledo) be demolished. They obviously sought to denude the Jews of their defenses and have their neighborhoods open to assault. Enrique, however, rejected their arguments that the Jewish command of forts was “harmful” to the Christians; nor was he moved by their mention of Toledo, which was meant to remind him of the troubles he encountered when he besieged that fortress in 1355. He flatly refused the petition on this score by indicating that he saw through the petitioners’ intention. Fulfillment of their request, he said, would bring about the destruction of the Jews, and this would be to his disservice.87 He was not, however, oblivious of his need to cater to the cities in some matters. In response to their requests that he cut by half the Christians’ debts to Jews (since the other half allegedly represented concealed interest) and that a moratorium of three years be given for settling them (since many of their citizens had been made destitute by the war and the “exactions of the tyrant who called himself King”—i.e., Pedro), he reduced the debts by a third and granted a moratorium of two years.88 These were important concessions of course, but far different from his call that the Christians not pay their debts to Jews at all—the call he had issued only a few months earlier, before he became king.

XI

When Enrique called the Cortes of Burgos he thought that his conflict with Pedro was over. But already at the closing sessions of that Cortes he learned that Pedro had swayed England to assist him and that an English invasion of Castile was imminent. And indeed, in March 1367, Pedro crossed the border accompanied by a strong force of Gascon and English troops, headed by the Black Prince, King Edward Ill’s son, a renowned military leader. The Prince soon justified his great military reputation, when he roundly defeated Enrique’s army in Najera on April 13,1367. Apart from many left dead on the battlefield, the enemy lost seven thousand prisoners. Enrique, however, managed to escape to Aragon, whence he proceeded to the French court. The victory gained by Pedro and his allies removed Enrique from the Castilian scene but did not reestablish Pedro’s national authority. Actually, control of Castile was now divided between Pedro and the Prince of Wales—

i i 6 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

two strong men who did not see eye to eye on a number of major issues. In all probability, Pedro’s inability to meet his financial commitments to the Prince lay at the bottom of their disagreements. Thus, the Prince refused to deliver to Pedro the seven thousand prisoners he took in Najera, because many of them were men of great wealth who could pay him much ransom for their release; and the Prince was in great need of money to cover the cost of the expedition. It was perhaps partly for this reason that his troops were allowed to rob the Jews—robberies which were usually accompanied with bloodshed. Thus, in the course of these attacks many communities, such as Villa Diego, were annihilated, while others, such as Aguilar de Campo, were subjected to massive carnage.89 So great was the terror which these soldiers struck in the hearts of Spain’s Jews that many of the latter, to escape rape and murder, were converted to Christianity.90 Apparently, Pedro could not pre¬ vent these outrages, as he had no power over the Prince’s troops; and because of his strained relations with the Prince he may not even have tried to do so. His restoration to the throne, therefore, had in no way diminished the sufferings of Spain’s Jews; rather it increased them and complicated their tragedy by the appearance of many converts. In the coming years, some of these converts may have played a special part in embittering the lives of their former brethren.91 Pedro made desperate efforts to extricate himself from his financial straits and pay his debt to his English allies; but all his attempts ended in failure.92 The Prince of Wales, unpaid, returned to Gascony, full of contempt for Pedro and Castile, which appeared to him ready to be taken over. In fact he contrived, behind Pedro’s back, to form an alliance with Aragon and Portu¬ gal, to partition Castile among themselves.93 Rumors of his plans, which must have reached the French Court, may have prompted it to provide Enrique once again with a new army for the conquest of Castile. In May 1368, Enrique’s forces, including many of the ransomed prisoners of Najera, de¬ scended unexpectedly upon the prostrated country to subject it to further travails. To Pedro, this new invasion must have looked like a natural disaster. He knew he could not resist it. Enrique now again advanced westward on the road leading to Burgos, but this time his advance was not marked by the sack or massacre of Jewish communities. Neither his own soldiers nor his French mercenaries, nor the townsmen of the cities through whose territories he passed, attacked the Jews, robbed or molested them, evidently because he had sternly forbidden them to cause thejews any harm. When he now punished Jews, as he did in some places, it was only where they denied his authority and opposed him as rebels to their king. 1 hus, he imposed on the community of Burgos another enormous fine of one million maravedis—because they closed their

THE

SPANISH

SCENE

["7

fortress to his troops and compelled them to enter it by force.94 He inflicted equal punishment on the Jews of Toledo (in May 1369), because they too shut the gates of their borough and fought him to the bitter end95; and a rebellious attitude toward his sovereignty must also have caused him to impose a heavy fine on the community of Palencia. The anti-Jewish outbreaks that occurred in Valladolid, Paredes and Jaen, when these towns declared for Enrique as king,96 were doubtless not of Enrique’s doing, but an expression of the sentiments of the local mobs, who believed that, by striking at the Jews of their cities, they were acting in accord with Enrique’s wishes—the Enrique they knew from his premonarchic anti-Jewish campaign. Enrique moved quickly on his southbound route without encountering serious resistance. It was only upon reaching Toledo that he met the first determined opposition, of which the city’s Jewish community formed the hard core. Heavily reduced by starvation and disease, the defenders of Toledo were still holding out after eleven months of relentless siege, still waiting for their king, Don Pedro, to deliver them from their ordeal. While working in Seville on the recruitment of new soldiers and the building of a new army, Pedro decided to go to their aid before his work was completed. His force was considerable, some three thousand cavalry, but half of them were Moslems, who had no intention of risking their lives in battles between Christians. A surprise attack by Enrique and du Guesclin, who had been constantly watching his moves, forced Pedro to seek shelter in the castle of Montiel, which was soon surrounded by the enemy. Negotiating his escape with du Guesclin, he relied on the latter’s false promises and allowed himself to be brought to his tent. There he met Enrique, who killed him in a struggle, but not without du Guesclin’s aid.

XII

Pedro’s reign left Spanish Jewry deeply wounded, impoverished, half destroyed. Except for Toledo, most of the punishment was taken by the northern communities. It was they who suffered most of the casualties, and it was they who experienced the agony of conversion out of despair and deadly fear. In the days of wrath to come, it was northern Spanish Jewry that was to show the least resistance. Once Enrique was established as king, the situation of the Jews immedi¬ ately improved. General security was soon restored and the Jews resumed their former position. Joseph Pichon, who in 1367 was still defined in the documents as a “Jew of the King’s house,”97 was raised to the high office of Contador Mayor, despite the promise Enrique gave the cities (in the Cortes of Burgos, Feb. 1367) not to appoint a Jew to any office that allowed him

11 8 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

dominion over Christians. Indubitably, Samuel Abravanel too was given extraordinary powers, as were other Jewish tax experts who were charged with the administration of the royal revenues. It is hard to believe, however, that the deep resentment that the leaders of Castilian Jewry felt for Pichon and Abravanel was dissipated during Enrique’s reign. Both Pichon and Abravanel served Enrique throughout the long Toledan siege; and their support of Enrique in those frightful days increased the antipathy for them among the Jews. And yet, following Pedro’s death, many Jews in Castile must have come to the conclusion that Pichon’s and Abravanel’s association with Enrique turned out to be of help to Spanish Jewry. Open criticism of them was no longer voiced among either the rank and file or the leadership. But the majority’s evaluation of their characters, it seems, did not basically change; it was merely suppressed. Not unrelated to that silenced criticism was the altered attitude that the great Jewish tax farmers must have taken toward Enrique’s administration. 1 hey, who had occupied high posts in Pedro’s treasury, had to swallow their pride and do work for Enrique under the command of the newcomers, Pichon and Abravanel. Along with these tax farmers there came into the Court many Jewish officials who served in related fields, and the royal treasury assumed its old form of a “Jewish” organization. The new rise of the Jews to authoritative positions sparked a violent reaction from the antisemitic elements, who saw themselves betrayed by King Enrique—the man they had so ardently supported because he promised to end Jewish influence in Cas¬ tile. In the Cortes of Toro (Sept. 1371), they expressed their protest against the King’s pro-Jewish policy in a fiery language perhaps never heard before in any Castilian Cortes: Because of the great license and power given to the enemies of the faith, especially to the Jews, in all our kingdoms, in the court of the King and the courts of the nobles ... and because of the great offices and honors they have, which impel all Christians to obey and fear them and show them the greatest possible reverence, matters have reached the point that all the councils of the cities, towns and places of our kingdoms, and each of their individual persons, are in the captivity of the Jews—that is, subjected and terrified by them—both because they see the high ranks they hold and the honors they enjoy in the Courts of the King¬ dom, and because of the gathering of the revenues which they control and the offices they occupy [in the administration]. For this reason, the aforesaid Jews, brazen and evil people as they are, enemies of God and of all Christians, perpetrate with great daring many wrongs and briber¬ ies, so that all our kingdoms, or their greater parts, are being destroyed and driven by the Jews to a state of desperation.

THE

SPANISH

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[ll9

Then, after having presented the evils which the Jews, in their opinion, have brought upon the kingdom, the petitioners indicate the corrective measures they would like the King to take: Since it has been the kings’ wish that this bad company live in these kingdoms, let them agree in their mercy that they [i.e., the Jews] be marked and separated from the Christians as God has commanded and as the laws have ordered—[namely,] that they wear signs as they do in other kingdoms, so that they might be recognized among the Christians and be less inclined to cause so much evil and do so much harm as they are presently doing. Apart from this,, let the kings see to it that they have no office either in their own courts or in the court of any lord ... nor serve as farmers of the royal taxes—offices by means of which they commit, through their falsehoods, many violations of rights. . . . Since they have to live as bearers of testimony to the death of our Lord Jesus Christ, let them live and work only in the offices [that suit them and] to which they have been habituated, as they live and work in other kingdoms which some of them inhabit.98

No other petition addressed to Enrique exhibits so clearly the antisemit¬ ism of the time, the causes that imbued it with special ferocity, and the arguments employed in its support. The Jews are “brazen and evil people,” who “perpetrate with great daring” many “falsehoods,” “briberies,” and “evils”; they “destroy the kingdom” and “drive its people to despair.” They subjugate the Christians and control their lives through the taxes they impose on them and the offices they run. Indeed, they manage not only the revenues of the King, but also the estates of all the nobles of the land. Their style of life, which is like that of the nobility, helps them perform their harmful deeds; for, dressed in fine clothes and riding mules, called by Christian names and residing among Christians, and, on top of this, not wearing the badge, they often conceal their real identity. Thus, we see how social and economic reasons—the old roots of hatred for the Jews—are clearly reflected in the above complaints; and we likewise see them accompanied by old argu¬ ments—the justifications supplied by Christian theory and opinion. Thus, the Jews are “enemies of God and of all Christendom”; they are allowed to live only because they attest the death of Christ—namely, the Crucifixion, for which, as all know, they were responsible; but they are allowed to live not as Christians do, let alone as Christian noblemen, but in a humble and repressed manner, limited to a few low professions, as they are in other Christian countries. By accepting only two of the requests—concerning the “names” and the wearing of the “badge,” which was never meant to be enforced, Enrique showed how little value he ascribed to these claims and arguments. He

I 2 O ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

continued to engage Jews in his Court wherever they could be of use to him, and ignored the growing clamor of the critics, who kept reminding him of his Christian duties. In 1377, in the Cortes of Burgos, the procurations returned to the charge. But realizing that they could not have their way in anything that concerned the royal administration, they concentrated their petitions on matters touching loans, or rather their unpaid debts to the Jews, and were allowed several concessions." In addition, they asked that no Jew be permit¬ ted to hold high office in the estate of any noble. The King found it easy to grant this request which, he knew well, was unenforceable and he likewise endorsed the cities’ petition to free them from collective punishment forjews occasionally killed in their territories.100 Enrique thus gave in on non-substantial issues, while stubbornly adhering to the main objectives of the pro-Jewish policy of his predecessors. His financial administration remained in Jewish hands, and if anything was to disturb its structure, the disturbance came from Jewish, not Christian sources.

XIII

We have already referred to the prevalent opposition to Pichon and Abravanel among Castile’s Jews, and especially among their aristocracy. Stemming originally from communal motives, it was later nursed by the personal ambitions of certain major figures in Pedro’s administration. Having had no choice but to join the system led by Pichon and Abravanel, they were forced to show a friendly face to these arbiters of Enrique’s finances. But they never acquiesced in their leadership and constantly looked for ways to thwart it. Above all, they looked for suitable occasions on which they might point out to the King any flaw or failure in their financial management, and thereby bring about their dismissal. The main target of their efforts was of course Pichon, whose powerful position as Contador Mayor was the prize they sought to win by their ceaseless machinations. It is not at all unlikely that the same Jewish courtiers who were instrumental in the downfall of Don Samuel were now involved in a similar attempt against Joseph Pichon. Whoever they were, or whoever were their aides, they must have been extremely clever and efficient to be able to weave such a web of intrigue to undermine Pichon’s authority. We may also assume that their keyman or ringleader had gained the full confidence of Pichon, who no doubt enabled him to approach Enrique freely, and thereby wield direct influence upon him. The intrigue must have taken a long time, but finally an opportunity presented itself to strike at the Contador Mayor. The tactics appear similar to those that had apparently been employed

THE

SPANISH

SCENE

[,2I

against Samuel ha-Levi. Pichon was accused of submitting false accounts of his tax collections and earnings, and the King, who may have given some credence to these charges, ordered his arrest and a full investigation. Pichon, however, did not react as had Don Samuel. Offended as he was, he did not remain silent; he fought back vigorously and made a strenuous effort to prove the groundlessness of the charges leveled against him. Ulti¬ mately, both the investigators and the King must have become convinced of his innocence, for otherwise he would not have been restored to his position, with none of his honors and powers diminished.101 Enrique, however, yield¬ ing to his avarice, could not miss the chance to extract from Pichon a huge fine for the defects that the royal investigators allegedly noticed in his conduct. They probably found some minor flaws in Pichon’s handling of one or more accounts, and Enrique ordered them to exaggerate these sins, so that they could impose a heavy fine. Pichon paid, and put an end to the affair.102 He knew, of course, who had maligned him, who was the chief intriguer, and who were his collaborators. He had many ways of striking at them; he could deny them large contracts, or raise their tax rates. But he realized that he had to be careful. By heavily fining Pichon as he did, the King, in a way, became a party to his accusers and, to some extent, their validator too. Action against his enemies might, with their connivance, appear to be an action against the King. Pichon preferred to let bygones be bygones and left the crime against him unavenged. His foes, however, could not believe that he had either forgotten or forgiven, and were apparently in constant suspense and fear of the schemes he might contrive against them. When Enrique died in May 1379, their fear turned into panic. What Pichon did not dare do in Enrique’s lifetime he might readily do under his heir, Juan I. They decided to forestall such dangerous action before Pichon could manage to cement close relations with the new king. As leading tax farmers and extremely wealthy men, they wielded great influence in the Jewish community; and now they decided to exploit that influence. The plan of action they adopted seemed simple, but it took great daring to implement. The Jews of Castile, like those of Aragon, had the right to sentence to death individuals who had falsely accused their fellow Jews, or their commu¬ nity, of violating certain laws or avoiding tax payments—crimes that might involve them in conflicts with the kings or the Christian citizenry. Their death sentences, however, required the King’s sanction, and execution was entrusted to royal officials. Pichon’s enemies now went to the chief rabbis, described to them the crimes he had allegedly committed—as well as the designs he was harboring against them, which might endanger the whole of Castilian Jewry—and demanded that Pichon be condemned to death as a

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

delator and enemy of his people.103 Perhaps unaware of the accusers’ motives, the rabbis sentenced Pichon to death. No doubt what moved them to issue that sentence was not only the testimony of Pichon’s rivals, but also their own prejudiced opinion of Enrique’s Contador Mayor. It was essentially his linger¬ ing bad reputation since the days of the Civil War that led to his condemna¬ tion. The crucial part of the conspiracy, however, was still to be fulfilled; but the conspirators had their scheme worked out and followed it tenaciously to the end. The new king, Juan I, was still celebrating his coronation, which had taken place a few days before, and while engrossed in the joyous affair, was approached by several Jewish leaders with a request to confirm a death sentence of the Jewish court against an especially vicious informer. Informers were usually known to belong to the vilest class of men, and the King, not suspecting that the sentenced person was one of the highest officials of the realm, gave his confirmation without asking for the name of the criminal involved. With this confirmation the conspirators rushed to the office of the royal executioner and induced him, despite his aroused suspicions, to carry out the verdict promptly. Then they proceeded to Pichon’s house, where the King’s executioner beheaded him.104 Pichon’s execution and the circumstances surrounding it shocked the whole kingdom. Overcome with wrath, the King announced that he had been duped, and ordered the Jewish leaders who deceived him to be hanged and quartered. Even the executioner was severely punished—his arm was cut off—for having callously killed the famous man. Rabid antisemites used Pichon’s murder as an excuse to mount a new campaign against the Jews. They claimed that the Jews of Castile killed Pichon because of his friendly attitude toward Christians. They, who for years had been urging the King to dismiss every Jew in his administration who wielded any power or authority over Christians, could not find words enough to praise the dead man, who was the chief of those officials and the strongest of them all. That their new charge contradicted their earlier claims could not of course be concealed. But inconsistency never stood in the way of hateful incitement. In the Cortes of Soria (Sept. 1380), the Jews of Castile were denied their old right to judge criminal cases105 and forbidden to occupy any office in the royal and nobiliar courts.106 This time the laws were enforced. From then on, no Jew was appointed Contador Mayor in the royal administration of Castile.

XIV

It is hard to assess the damage caused by this double blow to Jewish interests and prestige. It is still harder to believe that it was all the making of the Jewish grandees and courtiers. Baer says that, judging by the sources,

THE

SPANISH

SCENE

[ 1 23

Pichon’s “character was not above suspicion,” that his “hands were appar¬ ently not clean,” and hence that it was not without reason that he was killed as an informer.107 A careful study of the sources used by Baer yields nothing to justify these assertions. The underhanded manner and the great haste in which Pichon’s execution was carried out do not suggest consideration for justice, but rather a plot to remove a person presumed to have posed a danger to the plotters. Writing thirty-five years after the event, but probably as a contempo¬ rary,108 the great Jewish moralist Solomon Alami accused the HispanoJewish courtiers of major responsibility, for the misfortunes of Spain’s Jews. Lashing out against their scandalous behavior, he points out among the crimes they had perpetrated their “speaking evil of each other before the Kings and the grandees [purely] out of envy of each other’s attainments.” Their sole aspiration, he adds, “is to increase their wealth and expand their estates in the lands of their enemies” (i.e., the Spaniards), and “in all their conspiracies their interests are focused on the shedding of innocent blood”109 Alami speaks here of the jealousies and ambitions that led to the killing of Jewish courtiers from the time of Alfonso XI on. But as a contemporary of Pichon, he must have referred primarily to him. Indubitably, Alami consid¬ ered Pichon “innocent” of the wrongdoings ascribed to him. Alami attributed to the Jewish courtiers, who contrived their schemes in “surreptitious consultations,” the “expulsion” of the high Jewish officials from the courts of both the kings and the great lords (another indication that it was the Pichon affair that was on his mind while writing the above), and he also pointed out the historic consequences of that crucial development. By losing control of the royal finances and their positions of power at Court, the Jews lost their most influential defenders against the attacks planned by their foes.110 This no doubt facilitated the latter’s task and contributed materially to their ultimate triumph. Viewed in proper historical perspective, the moral deterioration of the Jewish courtiers appears to have stemmed from that of Spain’s nobility, of which the Jewish magnates strove to be a part. The principle that “all is fair in war,” viewed as valid also in internal strife—the principle by which most nobles lived and which permitted the excesses of a man like Enrique— determined the behavior of the Jewish magnates, too—or rather of many of their leaders. Alami would probably have agreed with this. It was in the Jewish courtiers’ disregard for their own people’s “sacred Law and morality” that he saw the main root of the woes and tribulations that befell the Jews of Spain.

I24 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

XV

Before closing our review of the period of transition that generated the great crisis in the life of Spanish Jewry, we ought to make a few additional remarks on both the primary and secondary causes of the catastrophe that followed. By the primary causes we mean the conditions that prepared and made possible the disaster, by the secondary, the factors that aggravated the malady that lay at the root of the troubles. The breakdown ofjewish power in Spain, on which we have touched in the preceding chapter, was doubtless one of the secondary causes. Such were also the rule of King Pedro and the challenge to that rule by Count Enrique. King Pedro of Castile was certainly maligned and his true image seriously distorted by the authors of his own and later times. But even if we discount half of their censures, enough will remain to force us to draw a grim portrait of his personality. Sitges tried to absolve him of the evils of which he was often accused by the people, and replace the title “Cruel” affixed to his name with that of “Strictly Just” (el Justiciero).xu It was a vain attempt. A man who would kill any person in the realm whom he merely suspected of rebellious designs, or who happened to have been a companion of his enemies, cannot be considered just by any standard. Nor could a man who executed oppo¬ nents in the presence of his mother, their political ally, be an ordinarily just judge, free of a sadistic streak. Nor could such a judge be a king who wished men he had sentenced to cruel death to be boiled and roasted in his presence; or one who commanded his officials to send him the heads of adversaries (actual or potential) whom he had ordered killed. He was cruel, all right, whatever kind of “justice” may be attributed to his acts. Nor can we agree with Russell and Hillgarth, who view his brutal deeds in the light of his age and consider them no worse than the excesses commit¬ ted by some of his contemporaries. It is true that his father, Alfonso XI, Pedro IV of Aragon, and other sovereigns of his time likewise assassinated rivals and antagonists and paid little attention to the requirements of the laws when they considered their rule threatened. But while Pedro followed their princi¬ ple of conduct, he applied it more readily and far more often. His biography reveals on almost every other page a public execution or a clandestine assassination carried out on his orders. One thing, however, may be said in his defense. He would not execute ordinary opponents but only those who were actually or presumably in¬ volved in rebellion or conspiracy. It was his royal prerogative, he was certain, to determine their involvement (and their guilt) on the basis of his impres¬ sions, his feelings, and the information he acquired, without resorting to any due process of law. In his own mind he was certain that the sentences he

THE

SPANISH

SCENE

[>2J

issued were “right” and “just”; and his distorted view of kingship by divine right, along with his poor sense of what was legal and illegal, led him to believe that the people had no right to question his motives, and that his judgment would ultimately be accepted as correct. The people, however, thought differently. They often considered his judgments wrong, malicious, or vengeful, and many came to think of him as a killer-king. Inevitably, such a ruler was constantly feared not only by his enemies but also by his friends, and consequently was bound to lose the support of ever larger sections of the people. That his rule caused irreparable damage to the Jews may be taken for granted. The hatred which he aroused against himself unavoidably engulfed thejews, too, since his evil deeds were often attributed to the evil designs of his Jewish counselors. His protection of thejews thus ultimately served to mobilize the antisemitic forces against them. This would have been the effect of his reign even if it had not been beset by other troubles, internal and external. Enrique’s share in aggravating the Jewish situation exceeded by far that of Pedro. Inferior to Pedro from every moral standpoint, since considerations of justice had no place at all in his quest for power and struggle to gain it, he was nevertheless careful not to leave behind him a long array of victims calling for vengeance. His tactics were aimed at attracting supporters and minimizing the number of his antagonists—that is, among the Christians of all classes. Insofar as thejews were concerned, he treated them as game in open season. While his initial persecution of thejews was intended to draw the Spanish people to his side, the final consequences of that persecution went far beyond his original aims. It was he who showed the Spaniards for the first time how Jews may be butchered by the hundreds in the cities, leaving their killers unpunished by the rulers (save in isolated cases). It was he again who showed them how thejews may be pillaged, robbed of their possessions, and sold into slavery if they fail to meet the obligations imposed on them. To him, again, must be ascribed the destruction of many Jewish communities by his French mercenaries, who imitated the deeds of his own soldiers, as well as by the English mercenaries, who imitated the French; and consequently we must also attribute to him the large-scale conversion move¬ ment that ensued. Above all, it was his ferocious agitation, and the massive violence that accompanied it, that made hatred of thejews, intense as it was, still more intense and soar to new heights. Though, once he became king, he reversed his attitude toward thejews, he could not undo what he had done. Yet great as was the impact of these factors upon the condition of Spanish Jewry, it could not compare, in effectiveness and scope, with the internal developments in Castile’s cities, which were then making a strenuous effort to maintain their precarious position of influence, and this when the living

126]

historical

background

standards of their citizens were undergoing a sharp decline. We have already dealt with the cities’ interests and motives that led their Christian popula¬ tions to act against the Jews. In the following chapter we shall touch on the impact that national adversity had on those populations and, consequently, on the condition of the Jewish communities in the Spanish kingdoms.

CHAPTER

III

The Age of Conversions '39i-i4'7

N

o popular outbreaks against the Jews in the Middle Ages caused the Jewish people such staggering losses as the Spanish riots of 1391. To be

sure, Jewish casualties in the Rhineland during the first Crusade (1096) or in Germany during the Black Death (1348) were heavier, in proportion to the Jewish population, than those of the Jews of Spain in 1391. But if we take into account the Jews who left Judaism under the impact of the pogromist threats, the losses of Spain’s Jews in 1391 far surpassed those the Jews had borne elsewhere in the wake of popular assaults. Within two or three years from 1391, Spain’s Jewish community, the largest in the world, was reduced by nearly one third—in both geographic and numerical terms, the greatest catastrophe that had hitherto befallen European Jewry. Like all earlier popular attacks upon thejews, the outbreaks of 1391 resulted from a long and progressive aggravation of the Jewish question. Yet like all such outbreaks, they would not have occurred without the rise of popular intolerance to high levels due to social and economic distress caused by some national misfortune. In fact, the outbreaks of 1391 came in the wake of a series of misfortunes which struck Spain from 1348 on. Both Castile and Aragon, as we now well know, were severely hit by the Black Death; both were soon thereafter plunged into a war, in which they bled each other for about ten years; and both became involved in that terrible conflict which became known as Castile’s Civil War (1366-1369). Before long Castile increased the load of its troubles by invading Portugal, which it sought to annex. But the abortive attempt ended in disaster (the defeat of Aljubarrota, 1385), to be accompanied by another fearful epidemic that killed about a third of An127

128 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

dalusia’s population. Finally, following the death ofjuan I (1390), the kingdom was administered by a split regency, which soon lost all effective control. It was then that the riots of 1391 broke out. These developments, however, merely facilitated the outbreaks, but were not their real, underlying cause. In the West, as in the East, the primary cause was the rise of an alien defenseless minority, with royal support, above the masses of the majority, whose constant aversion for that minority was thereby turned into a fiery hostility. In civilized societies such a hostility, to be translated into action, requires an ideology—or, more plainly, moral “justifi¬ cation,” and this need was supplied by the defamation of the Jews, which was fostered for five centuries in the East and reached its apogee in the doctrine of the deicide. The deicide implied that the Jew was condemned—an impli¬ cation the masses understood and embraced as fitting their innermost desires. They failed to comprehend, however, despite the Church’s explanations, why Christianity forbade them to kill Jews, rob them and, generally, violate their “natural rights.” Consequently, when fear of punishment did not curb them, they threw all these prohibitions to the winds. It was thus against the Jews as killers of Christ that the war against Spanish Jewry was launched. Like all great events in the history of mankind, the disasters that befell the Jews in the Middle Ages resulted from the interaction of social conditions and the deeds of certain persons at a given time. As a rule, Jewish historiogra¬ phy concentrated on unraveling the social background of the calamities, but paid relatively little attention to the part played by individuals in their occurrence. Paucity of data was one reason for this lacuna; but scant appreci¬ ation of men of great influence was frequently another reason. Whatever the cause, the results were disappointing. The accounts produced resembled a drama whose actors remained behind the scenes, and the picture they offer ofjewish life in the Middle Ages is much less colorful, vivid and comprehen¬ sible than it might have been had the leading personalities involved been given greater attention. We shall try to depart from this tradition. Accordingly, we shall describe in some detail the man who, more than any other person in his time, was responsible for the war declared on Spanish Jewry—the war which, after a century of clashes, ended in the establishment of the Spanish Inquisition and the removal of the Jews from the land of Spain.

I. Ferran Martinez i

He was Ferran Martinez, a Castilian priest, who never rose in the hierarchy of the Church above the median positions of archdeacon of Ecija and provisor of the church of Seville.1 Judging by our sources, he was a man of poor learning,2 and he may also have been of humble origin, which could perhaps explain why he failed to attain a more elevated position in the Church. This might also partly explain the great rapport he apparently had with the lower classes, his ability to move, guide and control them, and also his fiery hatred of the Jews, perhaps a heritage from peasant ancestors that passed to their sons in the cities. Be that as it may, the archdeacon of Ecija was an outgrowth of the conditions that prevailed in Castile and determined the attitude toward the Jews in that kingdom in the period following the Black Death. Ardently anti-Semitic like so many of his generation, he must have seen in King Enrique II the deliverer of Castile from the Jewish blight. The fierce and protracted anti-Jewish campaign conducted by Enrique during the Civil War, and the wholesale massacres ofjews by his troops which were report¬ edly carried out at his order, must have excited Martinez’ hopes that Enrique was embarked on a policy of extermination which alone, he thought, could rid Spain of its Jews. We can take it for granted that Ferran Martinez was one of Enrique’s most enthusiastic partisans throughout the period of the Civil War, and we can also imagine his disappointment and resentment when he saw that Enrique, once victorious and in power, reversed his declared attitude toward the Jews and proceeded along the same pro-Jewish path followed so tenaciously by his royal predecessors.3 Martinez knew that his bitter disappointment was shared by the majority of the common people; that they considered Enrique a betrayer of the trust, which they, the people, had faithfully placed in him; and that they re¬ sponded with affection, enthusiasm and admiration to Martinez’ exhorta¬ tions that Castile should readopt the policy against thejews which Enrique once pursued and then abandoned. Martinez could experience these reactions while exercising his function as Church preacher; and, backed by public favor, he went to the extreme in heaping abuse and contumely upon thejews as he urged their elimina¬ tion from Spanish life. He did not have to invent denunciations or look for Christian authorities to support him. Church literature was full of them. But Martinez chose from the anti-Jewish writings the epithets most likely

13 ° ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

to rouse hatred for the Jews and stimulate the actions he proposed and implemented. Thus, his harangues against the Jews were followed by in¬ structions he addressed to several small towns in the archbishopric of Seville, ordering their councils, under pain of excommunication, to expel all Jews from their confines and refrain from any converse with them.4 By the time Martinez began his campaign (apparently, in 1378), expulsion of Jews was no novelty in Europe. Jews had been ousted from cities and provinces (in Italy and Germany) as well as from the kingdoms of England and France. Spain, however, differed from these countries; it had not yet reached the state of anti-Jewishness that would move its kings to take such measures. But Martinez thought differently. He evidently paid little heed to Church teachings, which permitted, even advocated, the presence of Jews in all Christian dominions. Rather than the theory and law of the Church, Martinez preferred to follow the lay rulers, who had banished the Jews from their domains. The concejos of Andalusia, however, refused to act on so important an issue at the behest of a second-rate Church official. Yet this did not deter Martinez from trying to hurt the Jews in ways which, though conforming to Church orders, were certain to conflict with the civil law. Apart from his ordinary tasks as archdeacon, Martinez, as we have indi¬ cated, performed another function. He was diocesan judge (provisor), nomi¬ nated by the archbishop of Seville, and in this capacity he claimed the right to adjudge cases in which Jews were involved. The popes favored such adjudication and sought to introduce it wherever they could; but the kings of Spain had constantly opposed it, and the will of the kings prevailed. Martinez could not be ignorant of this fact. He knew that by taking the action he did, he was violating the laws of Castile, which provided that in disputes between Jews and Christians, special judges appointed by the king would hear the litigants and render judgment. Martinez decided to test the King’s resolve to abide by that policy against rising criticism; and he carefully prepared his moves. It seems that, for certain specific situations, he had received special per¬ mission from the King to act as arbiter and final judge in disputes between Christians and Jews,s and he used this permission to extend his authority over other cases as well. On the same grounds, it appears, he also attempted to persuade the lay authorities to enforce his decisions; but the authorities involved found enforcement difficult. Armed with old royal privileges that forbade Church interference in their lawsuits with Christians, the Jews pro¬ tested Martinez

actions, stating, in addition, that the sentences he pro¬

nounced were unfair and inimical to their interests. Martinez of course realized that sooner or later the Jews would carry their grievances to the Court; but he evidently intended to stand his ground. He knew that by

THE

AGE

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[131

sentencing Jews the way he did, he enhanced his popularity among the Christian populace; and he may have looked for an open conflict with the Crown by which he might effectively defend his position and thereby elevate his public standing. If this was indeed what he expected to attain, the subsequent events proved him right. His illegal interference in Christian-Jewish litigation and the partial support he received from the concejos compelled the Jews to take their case to Court, and the king had no choice but to decide which law prevailed—the law decreed by his royal predecessors or the one enunciated by Martinez. Apparently, the Jews had at no time any doubt as to what the King’s reaction would be, and they seemed to have had no difficulty in eliciting that reaction promptly. Prominent in the Court of Enrique II were then the Sevillian Jews Pichon and Abravanel, and these could actually have prepared for the King the order they wished him to sign. Enrique II was obviously convinced that Martinez’ impudent acts must be halted. He sent him an unqualified order: “Do not dare to interfere in judging any dispute which involves any Jew in any manner.”6 This clash between Martinez and the King occurred in April or May 1378. In July, the King was expected in Seville, and Martinez decided to suspend his activity until after the royal visit. As soon as the King left the city, however, he resumed his interference in Jewish-Christian litigation, while continuing from the pulpit his unbridled incitement of the Christian popu¬ lace against the Jews. What is more, to these tactics of stirring up trouble, he now added an even more disturbing move. Over his signature, and that of other Church officials, whom he had persuaded to join him, letters were issued to many towns of the diocese, demanding, under pain of excommuni¬ cation, that they deny the Jews the right of residence in their midst and accordingly eject them from their territories. The town councils that re¬ ceived these letters, however, were slow to act on his command. After all, they knew that no Church law had ever endorsed so extreme a measure, and no royal decree had ever sanctioned it. But Martinez would not give up. He knew that even if one town in Andalusia followed his instructions and evicted its Jews, the action would be imitated by other towns, and the whole diocese would be in an uproar. He therefore went to Alcala de Guadaira in hopes of inducing the authorities there to execute his expulsion order. The results he attained fell short of the mark, but the danger his activities posed for thejews was not by any means over. The latter now had, however, a stronger case against him and again carried their complaint to the Court. Enrique’s reaction was again swift, and now it was directed not only at Martinez but also at the judges and police chief of Seville and at “all the officials of all the towns and places of Seville’s archbishopric.” After express¬ ing his amazement that Martinez continued, despite royal prohibition, to

•32 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

adjudge cases involving Jews, the King again ordered him in no uncertain terms, to desist from passing judgment “in any dispute that relates to any Jew or Jewess, in any manner whatever.” Furthermore, “we command all Jews and Jewesses you have summoned,” the King wrote to Ferran Martinez, “not to appear before you as judge, or respect any sentence you may issue against them.” Similarly, he ordered all the officials of the cities to “refuse to enforce any sentence” that Martinez might hand down to the Jews in their localities, and not to “seize the Jews’ persons or possessions” on the basis of his verdict or order.7 No less forceful was the King’s reaction to Martinez’ letter to the councils of his diocese urging the rupture of all relations with the Jews and preventing their living among Christians. Not only was the archdeacon strictly forbid¬ den to issue such instructions against the Jews; he was also prohibited from making “any move” against them or causing “their degradation in any thing in any manner.” Also, the authorities of all the towns were enjoined “not to place any restriction upon the Jews with respect to their dwelling places, their shops, or their offices; and if something was done to this effect, that they undo it”—that is, restore the situation to what it had been before they changed it on Martinez’ instructions. Both Martinez and the urban authori¬ ties were warned that disregard of these orders from then on would result in punishment in body and possessions, according to the King’s pleasure.8 The stern warning had an immediate effect upon all the councils of the archbishopric and forced Martinez to retreat. It was clear that without the support of the concejos, he could not carry out any part of his program, and the councils were obviously unwilling to act against the King’s explicit orders. In consequence, Martinez had to abandon his actions against the Jews in the judicial sphere, as well as his attempts to induce the councils to banish the Jews from their territories. It may be safely assumed, however, that his inflammatory preaching was not interrupted on this account and that, on the contrary, it became more rancorous and aggressive under the impact of the frustration he experienced. Before long, however, his feeling of frustration gave way to jubilation. Luck came to Martinez’ aid.

II

On May 30, 1379, Enrique II died unexpectedly at the age of forty-six, leaving the throne to his son, Juan I. Then followed the assassination of Don Joseph Pichon, the Jewish Contador Mayor, by his Jewish rivals, which pro¬ vided ammunition for the campaign against the Jews9; and soon afterward the Cortes of Soria, meeting on September 18,1380, denied the Jews of Spain their age-old privilege to judge their own criminal cases.10 This was a far-reaching decree that hit hard at Jewish judicial independence and constituted the first

THE

AGE

OF

CONVERSIONS

[ 1 3 3

move toward the abolition of other judicial privileges still enjoyed by the Jews of Castile. What is more, the same Cortes took another step aimed at curtailing Jewish rights: it reaffirmed Enrique II’s decree forbidding Jews to serve in the nobiliar administrations and underscored it with the King’s assurance that “from now on the law would be guarded.”11 This law sug¬ gested that Juan I had embarked on an anti-Jewish course, though such a far-reaching conclusion was wrong. In any case, Martinez’ prestige grew. It was easier for him now to persuade the citizens who were favorably disposed toward his plans that further pressure in the directions he indicated would ultimately lead to the desired end. Encouraged by the change in the royal policy toward the Jews, he resumed his activity as judge in legal disputes between Christians and Jews; and he must now have received active support from some of the towns’ officials. Again the Jews turned for help to the Crown. They referred to the orders of the deceased King, showed papal bulls they had procured in their defense,12 and requested the King to take severe measures against Martinez’ agitation and persecution.13 Once again the royal reaction was positive. On March 3, 1382, the King sent Martinez a stern missive reminding him of the late king’s commands and stressing that they were in full force. He also informed him of his own wish to have the Jews “guarded, defended and kept as something that is ours and our chamber’s”; he therefore forbade him to use in his “preaching or other [public] utterances any words that may harm or preju¬ dice the Jews or raise a tumult against them.” He also let him know that he must not judge cases involving Jews and Jewesses and that “any dispute relating to the Church which may be against a Jew or a Jewess shall be handled from now on by the Archbishop, or by anyone the latter may assign for the task, and not by you.” Finally, the King commanded all the judges, the police chief, and the council members of the city of Seville that they “do not allow” Martinez to act against the Jews in “whatever is against what is stated in this order, and that neither you nor they do anything in this matter under pain of punishment according to our wish.”14 The King’s letter cleared up misunderstandings and put to rest some false assumptions. It offered no ground for the current belief that Juan I’s position toward the Jews differed fundamentally from that of his predecessor, and accordingly there was no reason to expect that he would act in an antisemitic spirit. The concejos had evidently to comply with his wishes and deny Mar¬ tinez the arm of enforcement; and in consequence Martinez was compelled to cease all his anti-Jewish judicial activities. Soon, however, he found other ways to molest and injure the Jews. He began a campaign of conversion to Christianity among the Moorish slaves owned by Jews in Seville. Sincejews were forbidden to own Christian slaves, their Moslem slaves, once converted to Christianity, would have to be

>34 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

set free; and such a conversion movement, if it spread, could harm Jewish economic interests. Martinez also continued his incitement against the Jews without respecting the prohibitions and warnings ofjuan I any more than he had heeded those of Enrique. In fact, his tirades against the Jews became more inflammatory and provocative, going as far as assuring his audiences that he personally knew that if any Christian killed or injured a Jew, the King and Queen would be pleased with his deed and, on issuing judgment, would pardon him. In fact, Martinez guaranteed that such a man would suffer no harm at all. Such assurances, which amounted to calls for bloodshed, alarmed the Jews of Seville. Again they petitioned aid from the King, who, on August iy, 1383, issued another alvald (directive) against Martinez’ actions. The new royal order forbade Martinez to Christianize Moorish slaves held by Jews, since this is against “the privileges granted the Jews in this matter by the kings from which we hail.” Above all, he was ordered peremptorily to cease inciting the populace against the Jews. The King expressed his astonishment at Martinez for his audacity in involving the royal pair in his harangues. “Since when,” the King asked, “have you been on such intimate terms with us that you may know our intention and that of the Queen?” It was clear to the King that unless the incitement of the archdeacon was stopped, “the aljama of this city would be destroyed and the Jews would lose what they have.” He therefore gave Martinez a grim warning that “if you do not abstain from this behavior, we shall punish you so that you regret what you have done and no other person will dare to do likewise.”15 The threatening language of the royal directive must have had a tempo¬ rary effect; in any case, more than four years passed before the aljama of Seville found it necessary to lodge a new complaint against him. This does not mean of course that Martinez was inactive throughout that long period, or that he ever ceased his campaign against the Jews. We may fairly assume, however, that at least for some time—perhaps until the end of 1385—he refrained from conducting his illegal intrusions into affairs that concerned Jews, and he may have also stopped claiming or insinuating that the killing oijews would incur no penalty. We assume so because the authority ofjuan I was high in Castile until the war with Portugal—or rather until the disaster of Aljubarrota (1385)—and the Jews then acquired a strong protector in the court through the person of Don Gedalya Negro. But Don Gedalya died in 1385, and the great defeat in Portugal led the King to seek the goodwill and support of the Castilian cities. He dreamed of renewing the war with Portu¬ gal and of winning a victory so great and decisive that it would wipe out the shame of his defeat. For this he sought new financial allocations from the councils, which granted his request, but apparently only after they had seen to it that the King would yield to some of their demands. Thus, meeting in Valladolid in December 1385, Cortes further struck at the old privileges of the

THE

AGE

OF

CONVERSIONS

[

Jews. Cohabitation ofjews with Christians was prohibited,16 and occupation by Jews of offices in the Court was once more strictly forbidden (now under the pain of property confiscation).17 For the second time since 1383, the Jews had to forgo a third of the debts owed them by Christians and, in addition, to grant a fifteen-month moratorium on the payment of debts that were due to them.18 Above all, the royal Council, reconstructed by the King, now consisted of four bishops, four nobles, and four procuradores (i.e., representa¬ tives of the cities). It was obvious that thejews had lost most of their standing and much of their protection at Court, and in these circumstances, Martinez gathered courage to resume his judicial harassment of thejews, urge their complete separation from the Christians, and demand, in addition, the de¬ struction of all synagogues built in the archbishopric since the Reconquest.19 So charged became Seville’s social atmosphere as a result of this ferocious agitation that, at the beginning of 1388, thejews of the city felt that something must be done to stop Martinez’ campaign. Their only recourse, it would seem, was to turn to the King, but they were evidently cautioned by their friends at Court that the time was not propitious for a Jewish petition. The mood of the monarch was clearly anti-Jewish; and rather than risk a luke¬ warm reply that might encourage Martinez further, they decided to take their case against Martinez to the highest court in Seville. And so on Febru¬ ary 11, 1388, the representative of the community, Don Judah ben Abraham, presented to the chief judge of Seville a formal complaint against Martinez’ campaign which was aimed at the destruction of their synagogues. Don Judah cautioned Martinez, and indirectly the judges, that should this complaint remain unanswered, thejews would turn to the King. “They will show how he, Martinez, violated what the King had ordered him to do,” and how he acted against the royal command which clearly forbade him to do certain things.20 This argument was of course a tactical maneuver: traditional royal support of thejews was invoked as a threat when it could no longer be relied on in fact. Martinez, however, must have sensed their weakness. A week after the Jews had submitted their complaint, he gave his response. Using the occasion to launch a new attack, he described thejews as incorrigible criminals who attempted to cheat even God Himself, and nobody should therefore be surprised that they were cheating the kings and the princes. Had not Jesus said to his disciples when he sent them to preach the Gospel that anyone who would refuse Jesus’ reign should be viewed as His enemy and as son of the devil? Whom does this definition fit more than thejews, who have consist¬ ently rejected His reign from the days of the apostles on? What he, Martinez, says of thejews is identical with what Jesus had said of them; hence, he cannot speak otherwise. Nor did he do anything wrong, either morally or legally. He urged the separation of Christians from Jews because this is what

136 ]

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BACKGROUND

the laze commands and what the archbishop of Seville has ordered, and also because the archbishop told him to attend to this matter.21 He demanded the dismantling of the Jewish synagogues because this is what the law requires, and, had he been truly faithful to the law, he said, the “twenty-three syna¬ gogues the Jews built in Seville . . . would all have been razed to the ground.”22 As for his judicial actions, it is true that the King gave him certain instructions, but these instructions were based on false information supplied to the King by the Jews. “They said that I pronounced wrong sentences in the disputes which were entrusted to me by the King, our lord. To this, Senor, I answer: Let them show me which sentences I have pronounced against Jews and Jewesses, and if they were wrong and given against the law, I wish to pay for them all.” He of course will not desist from preaching despite the King’s instructions, since such instructions make no sense; for what he preaches is the word of God, by which not only God is served but also the King.23 The Jews obviously got no satisfaction from their appeal to the local authorities. They did not turn to the King as they had threatened, doubtless for the reasons pointed out above. But they developed a plan to check Martinez’ drive through another medium. They turned to the deacon of the church of Seville, who presented the case to the chapter.

Ill

There is no doubt that even before they made this move, the Jews of Seville had received intimations that the leadership of the church of Seville was displeased with Ferran Martinez’ conduct and therefore was prepared to hear their complaints against his behavior. These intimations may have surprised the Jews, but they clearly indicate that not all Seville’s Christians were heart and soul with Martinez. Here we can see that a part of the citizenry, an organized segment of Christian society—in all likelihood, at its upper levels—opposed Martinez’ agitation and actions, which, they felt, went far beyond the limits permitted by the country’s laws. And thus, after discussing the Jews’ complaints and appeal, the chapter decided to send a delegation to the King, with a petition to curb Martinez’ activity. The answer the King gave them was hardly encouraging: he would order his Council to consider the petition, but he felt it necessary to add that “although the zeal of the Archdeacon is holy and good, it must be watched that he does not arouse the people against the Jews with his talks and sermons; for although the Jews are bad and perverted, they are under my shelter and royal power, and they should not be wronged except through just punishments in cases where they offended against the law.”24 In all this there was more double-talk than a straightforward answer. The

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King called for the protection of the Jews, but failed to recommend any action against Martinez. He completely ignored the stern warnings that he and Enrique had given Martinez and, instead of reprimanding him, praised his “holy zeal” and threw a sharp reproach at the Jews. As for the petition, he limited his reaction to the expression of his view that Martinez should be “watched,” but avoided a concrete and straightforward reply by turning the matter over to the Council, thus shirking direct responsibility. Undoubtedly the king was obliged to cater to the feelings of the antisemitic party, which was strongly represented in the royal Council. Three years after Aljubarrota, Juan I was not the same king he had been before that debacle. No action against Martinez came from the King’s Court; indeed, no such action could have come from it at the time. The attempt to enlist the local Church against Martinez thus ended in disappointment. Not only did it fail to stop him; it rather increased his audacity. His sermons against the Jews became more frenzied than ever, for now he believed that his goals were within reach. His overconfidence, how¬ ever, unbalanced him, and in consequence he stumbled. He presented him¬ self as the ultimate authority on anything that concerned the Jewish question. He even claimed that the pope had no right to issue bulls allowingjews to establish new synagogues. He spoke in the name of the church of Seville as if he were its chief representative, and his audacity assumed a form of impudence that undermined the prestige of the Sevillian archbishop. There is no doubt that a strong body of opinion now opposed him in the cathedral chapter. The archbishop decided to take action. Pedro Gomez Barroso, the archbishop of Seville, was, according to Ama¬ dor de los Rios, one of the most distinguished leaders of the Spanish Church, both for the “purity and integrity of his doctrine and the mild gravity of his manners.”2S He realized that in attempting to stop Martinez he would have a tough fight on his hands, and he did not want to make this fight personal. He therefore appointed a committee of experts, both lay and ecclesiastic, to examine the charges leveled at the archdeacon, and bring him before the committee to answer them, if he could. Martinez appeared. He was first questioned whether it was true that he denied the pope’s right to give the Jews license to build new synagogues. Martinez confirmed the claim. He was then asked to give his reasons for that view, as it was commonly held that the opposite was true. The archbishop and the other members of the committee gave reasons in support of the contrary opinion; they mentioned the position of Juan Sanchez in the Novela and the fact that Popes Alexander (III) and Clement (VI) and other Holy Fathers issued bulls permitting the building of many -synagogues. To diminish the pope’s power against all this testimony is an “error,” they stressed, which, unless duly justified, must be retracted. Martinez, however, refused to retract or justify his statement. He was pre-

13

8 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

pared to give his reasons, he said, in the presence of the “officials and others of the people''16 thereby indicating his inability to provide legal arguments that might satisfy the learned, and his need to rely on the “common people,” whose ears were ever open to his claims. The archbishop responded that such matters can be examined only by scholars, and not by laymen unduly in¬ formed of Church law and regulations. Martinez was asked to show obedi¬ ence to the Church by refraining from making such questionable assertions until his statements are examined by a committee of experts, who should determine whether or not they constituted a deviation from the teachings of the Church.27 Martinez refused to agree to this, too. He continued his preaching in the same vein. The archbishop then issued a formal sentence in which he forbade Mar¬ tinez to deliver any sermon until his case was decided by competent judges. Furthermore, in view of his open disregard of the order given him by the archbishop and the examiners, as evinced by his latest pronouncements, he made himself “contumacious, rebellious, and suspect of heresy.” And, what is worse, since with every passing day he affirms that what he had said represented the truth, he appears to be “hardened in error.” In addition, the archbishop called his attention to the fact that, besides the above statement concerning the pope, he had also said that the “pope cannot grant dispensa¬ tion for a priest to marry, nor can he dispense with vows made, or absolve any person from his sins, and other matters which for those who understand might be considered a good opinion, but for the simpletons and even for those not very learned could be a cause of great scandal, as well as of contempt of the pope.”28 Martinez was denied, on pain of excommunication, not only the right to preach, but also to act as judge or official of the archbishop until judgment on his statements was pronounced. This severe sentence of the archbishop, we should note, was issued on August 2, 1389.29 Martinez was now in real trouble. He had antagonized the chapter, in¬ curred the enmity of the archbishop, and was divested of all his rights, facing an investigation involving heresy. But luck again was on his side. On July 7, I39°» Archbishop Barroso died, and Martinez’ supporters were soon on the stump. Their immediate goals were to persuade the chapter to disregard the pending investigation against Martinez, reinstate him in his position as arch¬ deacon of Ecija and elect him as one of the provisors. A game of political intrigue ensued, probably guided by Martinez himself, through which all the above aims were achieved. No doubt opposition to him in the chapter was so weakened by the archbishop’s death that many of its members believed they had no choice but to join the bandwagon of the victor. Martinez was now in the saddle again, and in a much more formidable position.

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IV

Three months after the archbishop’s death, Juan I also passed away, leaving as heir his minor son and debatable instructions concerning the Regency. Formed after troubled negotiations, the Regency was soon so divided as often to become almost paralyzed, while the representatives of the cities now formed a major part of the royal government. Thus, the Regency could hardly be expected to take strong measures in defense of the Jews. Martinez was now sure that his moment had come. On December 8,1390, he issued orders to the clergy of various towns in the diocese that they destroy, within three hours of the receipt of his instructions, the synagogues in their localities. Ecija and Alcala de Guadaira, where support of Martinez was overwhelming, were the first towns to carry out these instructions; Coria and Cantillana came next; and then the same orders were issued by Martinez to all other places in the diocese. If there was resistance anywhere, he warned, the town would be put under interdict until the order was obeyed and carried out.30 It need scarcely be said that the Jews of Seville realized the gravity of the peril overhanging them. There was nobody now in Seville to appeal to. Martinez behaved like master of the city, and nobody seemed willing or able to resist him. Only one course still appeared open: to turn to the Regency and try to get its aid. The Jews of Seville used this avenue. They sent an urgent plea to the leaders of Spain’s Jewry, then assembled in Madrid, where Cortes met. They described their plight and warned that, if no remedy was pro¬ vided, the Jews of the archbishopric would have to leave the region.31 It was not hard to foresee the disastrous consequences of such an eventuality for all of Spain’s Jews. Faced with the remonstrances of the Jewish leaders, the Regency was moved to action. It realized that no time could be lost; and on December 20, 1390, it sent the dean and chapter of the church of Seville a vigorous missive, reaffirming the position of King Enrique II in that protracted conflict. Bearing the name of the young King, and countersigned by all the leading members of the Council, the letter, besides attacking Martinez, sharply criticized the cathedral chapter. To understand the developments that followed, we should note in some detail what it said. The Regency expressed its amazement that the chapter, having known Martinez and his ways, and aware that he was under suspicion of heresy and prohibited from exercising his former functions, including even the right to preach, chose to elect him as one of the provisors and, furthermore, tacitly consented to his plans by failing to interfere with their implementation, or even reprimand him in any form. The Regency subscribed to the view of the Jews that the chapter, by both its action and inaction, shared responsibility

140 ]

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for Martinez’ activities and for the harm and injury he caused the Jews. It therefore charged the chapter to restore at its own cost the synagogues razed at Martinez’ orders and make amends to all Jews and others who suffered damage as a result. But besides this, the Regents ordered the chapter to take specific actions against Martinez himself. He was to be denied the provisorship, by whose powers he had committed his latest offenses; he was also to be prevented from preaching against the Jews or their worship in Seville’s synagogues; he was to be placed under ecclesiastic censure (as the law required); and finally, he was to “redo, restore and repair” all the synagogues whose destruction he had ordered. The letter ends with a stern warning that severe fiscal punishment will be imposed if the chapter does not follow the King’s instructions and does not remove Martinez from the provisorship. “Be certain . . . that we shall order you to pay for all damages from your own private possessions, and if these will not suffice, from the possessions of your mesa capitular [resources of the chapter], plus a fine of a thousand doblas for each violation, besides other penalties at the royal pleasure, so that this may be due punishment to you and an example for those who will notice this.”32 The strong and uncompromising letter of the Regency was calculated to frighten the chapter into action in accord with the wishes of the Jews, and this indeed was its effect. It was the predisposition of the chapter’s leaders, however, that made this result possible. Had the members of that leadership shared Martinez’ views and sought as he did to destroy Seville’s Jewry, they would have contested the Regency before obeying it. They could have looked for reasons to exempt themselves from guilt—i.e., from responsibility for Martinez’ actions; they might even have protested against interference with their right to elect to their offices whomever they wished; and they might have sent a delegation to Madrid, where they had many friends who could support their case. But this is not what they did. Five days after they had taken formal notice of the Regency’s letter, the chapter met again (on January 15,1391) and declared its willingness to honor the King’s orders. This shows that the great majority of the chapter resented the arbitrary actions of Martinez; that many disliked or even hated him personally as an obnoxious and dangerous individual; and, again, that the patrician elements in the cities, and the upper strata of the Church’s hierarchy, did not favor violent action against the Jews, even though they wanted to reduce their legal status, force them into positions of subservience to the city, and remove them from the mainstream of Sevillian life by legal means—that is, in conformity with the king’s law and, of course, the laws of the Church. The meeting ofjanuary 15 was attended not only by the leaders of Seville’s church. Present were also several Church notables from other cities of the archbishopric (such as the archdeacons ofjerez, Reyna, and Castro), as well

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as twelve canons and beneficiaries of the church of Seville. In the presence of all these, the deacon of Seville’s church declared in his own name, and the name of all present, except for one canon who demurred, that they consid¬ ered the letter of the King as a command, which they were duty-bound to obey, and that accordingly they deprived Martinez then and there of the office of provisor to which they had appointed him; they further ordered Martinez to refrain from preaching in a manner that might cause disturbance and scandal, or any evil or harm to the Jews and their synagogues. Further¬ more, they ordered him to rebuild or repair, within the space of a year, all the synagogues he had destroyed in the archbishopric; and he was warned that failure to comply with these demands would result in his excommunica¬ tion.33 From this action of the chapter it is clear that its officials had never been in collusion with Martinez in his plan to demolish the synagogues; nor had they ever cooperated with him in issuing or enforcing the orders of demoli¬ tion. Had this not been the case, they could not so easily have shirked responsibility for these occurrences; nor could they have told Martinez to his face that he (and he alone) had to repair the synagogues which he (and he only) had ordered destroyed. Martinez, as we shall see, was trying to ascribe responsibility for his actions to the deceased archbishop, and he would certainly have been quick to point out in his reply (which we shall presently consider) that the chapter had agreed, if not collaborated, with him in the proceedings taken for the razing of the synagogues, if he had any basis for such a claim. Evidently, he had no such basis. And thus we must limit the responsibility of the chapter, insofar as the destruction of the synagogues was concerned, only to its passivity—that is, its failure to stop or interfere with the execution of Martinez’ instructions. Yet that passivity did not stem from consent or indifference but rather from fear of Martinez and his cohorts—the same fear that may account for his election as provisor after the death of the archbishop. Probably one of Martinez’ supporters, perhaps the one who now opposed the chapter’s decision, proposed his election to that position, while the others, suspecting personal injury if they openly opposed the dangerous man, failed to indicate their objections to the proposal and thus brought about Martinez’ election. If they now mustered courage to come out against him, it was because they counted on the backing of the Regency and, in addition, were threatened by its punishments if they failed to fulfill its instructions. The leaders of the chapter no doubt realized that Martinez would be hard to defeat. Indeed, he remained dauntless and unyielding. In his reply to the chapter, which he gave then and there, he made it clear that he had no intention of obeying either the order of the Regents or the instructions of the chapter. Jesus Christ, he said, gave His followers two swords, with which they

I42 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

were to punish the evil and defend the good; one of them He placed in the hands of the kings, the other in those of the Church, “which is the Pope, the Cardinals, the Prelates, and the whole clergy.” These, then, are two different jurisdictions, and hence neither the Church nor any of its clergy can be sentenced by royal judges; therefore, neither the King nor those who signed the letters which were issued against him had the right to do so, for he, Martinez, is under the jurisdiction of the Church—and the Church only. Nor could he consider of any value the decision taken against him by the chapter, for these people are not his judges episcopi jure; therefore, he does not have even to appeal such a sentence or order, because it is per se null and void. Furthermore, in the judgments issued against him, the law was flagrantly ignored even in the elementary requirement that he be heard in his own defense, and thus he was condemned solely on the basis of the accusations leveled at him by the Jews, the “traitors, the enemies of the faith.” Finally, he was ready to prove that the late archbishop ordered the destruction of the synagogues inasmuch as they were built against the Church and against God and without permission from any person. He further mentioned that he destroyed two synagogues during the lifetime of the archbishop, and he does not regret what he did.34 In view of this defiant answer, it was obvious that Martinez was far from suppressed. What was now to follow was a contest of wills between the Regency and the chapter on the one hand and Ferran Martinez on the other. We do not know whether Martinez could, in fact, continue with his functions as provisor; in any case, he was still the archdeacon of Ecija and an official of the church of Seville, and in these capacities he continued to preach and urge the people to support him. There can be little doubt that in the sermons he delivered he portrayed his struggle with the Jews’ “friends” at Court and in the Sevillian chapter, and how, despite all their impending threats, he was not ready to budge an inch. Nor can we doubt that the tale of his fortitude, aggrandized by Martinez and his aides, increased the popular admiration for him and served as further inducement to his followers to stand firmly behind him. Martinez was now at the peak of his influence among Seville’s lower classes, who formed of course the great majority of the city’s population. How was he going to employ this force? He knew that he could not move the Crown, or the Regency, or the city council, or the chapter to take any action in his support. His strength lay with the masses of his followers. These had long been clamoring for action and were awaiting his signal.

v Feeling the storm fast gathering about him, Martinez could not have failed to realize that the hour of decision had come. The political situation, he

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knew, was propitious; the Regency was divided; it was most unlikely that it would dare move against him in the event of a general outbreak. The concejo and the chapter were hiding behind the Regency and would not initiate action on their own. The avalanche he could now unleash, Martinez felt, was too strong for any of these bodies to withstand, and he concluded that the time was ripe for a major attack upon the Jews. This is indeed what he and his aides now decided on, keeping secret all the time the scope, objectives, and date of the assault. Only the rising ferocity of Martinez’ agitation indi¬ cated its imminence. Seville’s juderia was now surrounded with an ugly pogromist atmosphere. Its residents were daily insulted and molested by members of Martinez’ party, no doubt with the aim of provoking disturbances and raising the fever of the aggressive mobs. Violent reactions to these insults became more and more unavoidable; and whether on their own initiative or in response to the Jews’ requests, the chief royal officials in Seville decided to suppress the pogromist movement. They believed that if they showed a strong hand, they might deter the populace from bloodshed. Two nobles of the great family of Guzman were the King’s chief officers in Seville; one of them, Juan Alonso Guzman, Count of Niebla, was the governor (adelantado) of the whole prov¬ ince; another, Alvar Perez de Guzman, was the alguazil mayor (chief of the royal police) of Seville. They seized two of the rabble who hurled insults at thejews and ordered them flogged and imprisoned. But the action backfired. The Cuarta Cronica General tells us that the “small people” (the pueblo menudo)—i.e., those who formed Martinez’ main following—were infuriated by the way their fellow rioters had been treated. Resorting to force, they freed the two prisoners and captured in the process the alguazil mayor. Then they carried the freed men to the great church, where only two months before the chapter had issued its harsh judgment against Martinez. There wild harangues were delivered against thejews and against their Christian protectors. The “small people” shouted that the alguazil must be stoned, and that the Count of Niebla, too, should be slain. Nevertheless, the mob was soon compelled to free Alvar Perez. It was obvious that otherwise a major clash would ensue between the nobiliar forces and the crowds of Mar¬ tinez—a clash that he evidently wanted to avoid. He did not wish to turn the conflict with thejews into a conflict with the nobility. He ordered the release of the alguazil35 A strange calm now descended on Seville which, rather than reassuring the Jews, frightened them. The release of the flogged culprits in defiance of the public sentence pronounced by authorized royal judges showed that the hand of the law was broken and that the real masters in Seville were Ferran Martinez and the aggressive mobs that followed him. Nevertheless, it appears that although the alguazil could not take any of the rioters to court, he did

>44 ]

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

not entirely abandon his duties as head of the city’s police. He must have prepared his men to meet new outbreaks, since rumors abounded that as¬ saults upon the Jews were being planned in Seville and the neighboring towns. The menaced Jews, for their part, sent signals of alarm to their leading notables, then meeting in Madrid; and the leaders, realizing the gravity of the crisis, rushed to the regency and demanded action. The Regency again hastened to respond as well as it could with its limited resources. It realized of course that, in the circumstances it faced, the only effective way to prevent disorders was to send to Andalusia detachments of troops to protect the juderias. But this the Regency could not afford to do. Divided more than ever, and increasingly menaced by the forces of its antagonist, Don Pedro Tenorio, archbishop of Toledo, it was itself in need of military aid. And so instead of troops, it sent special messengers to Andalusia’s most agitated towns, order¬ ing their concejos to keep the peace. It also made a diplomatic move which, it hoped, would alleviate the situation: it removed Alvar Perez from the office of alguazil and replaced him with the highly prestigious noble Pero Ponce de Leon, lord of Marchena.36 The action, taken on April 29, was meant to appease the extremists in Seville, who demanded the removal of Alvar Perez from his post. Yet rather than improving the city’s security, it accelerated its deterioration. For soon thereafter a sharp quarrel broke out between the new alguazil and the governor of the province, Juan Alfonso Guzman, thereby splitting the forces of Seville’s nobles, who now no doubt differed on the policy to be pursued toward Martinez and his aides. In any case, Ponce de Leon must have shown a rather friendly face to the latter, either in the hope of reducing their aggressiveness, or because of his need to enlist their support against the powerful Count of Niebla. Meanwhile, the fierce agitation continued. “The people were so aroused,” says Ayala, “that they now had no fear of any one, and the desire to rob the Jews was increasing from day to day.”37 With the populace thus stirred and readied for action, with a divided Regency in Madrid and a divided nobility in Seville, and with the urban aristocracy afraid to intervene, the conditions for an anti-Jewish outbreak seemed more favorable than ever before. Events moved inexorably toward a climax. It took only one month and five days from the replacement of Alvar Perez by Ponce de Leon for the attack on the Jews of Seville to take place.

VI

We have presented Martinez’ struggle against the Jews from the start of his agitation to the outbreak of the riots insofar as we could reconstruct it

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from the sources. What conclusions can we draw from this account that may help us understand the sequel? To begin with, there is Martinez’ character as reflected in the documents touching his conduct, and what we gather from them contradicts most epi¬ thets applied to him by the chroniclers and historians. According to these epithets, which no doubt agreed with his reputation among the masses, Martinez was a religious zealot, distinguished by “unusual devoutness” to the faith; but actually he lacked the main qualities—moral integrity and ideolog¬ ical consistency (together with a degree of naivete)—required for the posses¬ sion of true religious zeal. The record shows this unmistakably. He claimed that the King, or any other lay authority, had no jurisdiction over him and his actions since, by virtue of his clerical status, he was under the exclusive jurisdiction of the Church; but when Archbishop Barroso appointed a com¬ mittee of jurists and theologians to consider his conduct, he refused to state his arguments before them, declaring that he would present his case only before the people’s “officials,” who of course were all laymen. How he evalu¬ ated Church jurisdiction, to which he resorted again and again, is similarly attested by his arbitrary, cynical and, indeed, contemptuous treatment of the archbishop’s judgment, which suspended him from all his positions and put him under suspicion of heresy; for as soon as the archbishop died, he did not hesitate to disregard that verdict as if it had never been issued. He was restored to his position by an action of the chapter, which also made him provisor of the Church; and he readily accepted these decisions of the chapter, although they were made not jure episcopi but clearly and openly against it. Yet when the same chapter removed him from the provisorship, he claimed that his removal was illegal, as such action against him could be taken only jure episcopi. He displayed the same attitude in his repeated claim to have acted only in accordance with Church law; but he did not hesitate to disregard that law when it conflicted with his actions against the Jews. Thus, while Church law repeatedly forbade slayingjews merely because of their Jewishness, Martinez urged the masses to do precisely that, and even assured them exemption from punishment by the authorities. Another fateful instruction of his—the one that related to forced conversion—was likewise based on a violation of the canons and disregard for the teachings of the Church.38 We shall deal with this point further below. A man who could treat Church laws and precedents with such inconsist¬ ency for his own convenience could hardly be filled with the “holy zeal” that some of the sources attribute to him; nor could he exemplify exceptional “devoutness,” while adroitly manipulating his contradictory arguments to win his battles against his opponents. What appeared as religious zeal in Martinez was actually his burning hatred ofjews. The other misconceptions

4^ ]

1

HISTORICAL

BACKGROUND

about his “virtuous” behavior must likewise be interpreted in the light of that hatred. He was rightfully noted for his iron will and unwavering determination to achieve his objectives. And his strength of character, his ruthlessness and cunning, as well as his unscrupulousness and daring, made him virtually irresistible. Thanks to this combination of qualities he overcame the pressure of two kings, a Regency, the archbishop of Seville, the concejos of the cities, Seville’s cathedral chapter, and the powerful Sevillian nobility. And what further increased his fame and popularity was his oratory, which must have been stirring and especially suited to move masses. It was indeed primarily by this oratory that he captured the imagination of the Christian lower classes, who saw in him the champion of their cause—a hero who withstood the determined attacks of his and their own foes. But here we touch a point related to his leadership, and more broadly to his tactics and influence, which deserves special consideration.

The outbreak in Seville was the first massive strike of the tidal wave of hatred for the Jews that soon swept over the whole of Castile as well as most of Aragon. Martinez’ responsibility for the outburst of that fury, unprece¬ dented in the annals of Spain, is stressed by all historians of the period, but the main part he played in shaping these events has not yet been fully defined. When Martinez began his campaign against the Jews, hatred for them was widespread in Spain, and in the lower classes it was intense. His chief contribution to the great riots, therefore, was not the creation of public opinion against the Jews, even though he raised the anti-Jewish fever by more than several degrees. For this in itself would not have made the mobs replace their nonaggressive behavior toward the Jews with the pillage and butchery that followed. To move the people of Seville, Andalusia and Castile to do violence to the Jews on such an enormous scale, certain prerequisites had to be met. And it was in the provision of these prerequisites that Martinez fulfilled his crucial function. Except for the grim but sporadic attacks on the Jews of Castile during the Civil War, Castile had not seen bloody riots against the Jews for almost three hundred years—that is, since the outbreaks in Toledo and its environs in 1109. To solve thejewish question by means of massive bloodshed, or other forms of popular assault of the kind perpetrated in Germany and other countries, was clearly not in the tradition of Castile. Maintaining relentless pressure upon the King that he follow their demands with respect to the Jews, the oligarchies of the cities pursued a legal course to which they tenaciously adhered. It was primarily through Cortes, and occasionally through privi-

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[ '47

leges the kings gave them outside Cortes, that they sought to carry out their plan for the Jews—but not through acts of violence. Such acts would consti¬ tute rebellion against the King, which was the last thing the concejos would support. They knew that whatever autonomy they enjoyed they had ob¬ tained from the kings, who, from the middle of the 1380s, had encouraged them to believe that ultimately they would raise them above the other estates. Hence the concejos in both Castile and Aragon adhered, at least formally, to their legal duties with respect to both the King and the Jews— before, during and after the riots—in practically all the cities involved. The masses, however, were straining at the leash. They were bursting with desire to fall upon the Jews with all the violence they could muster; and what held them back was fear alone—their dread of the cruel and terrible punish¬ ments they knew the Crown could inflict upon them. Martinez taught the masses to overcome that fear. Not only did he preach violation of the laws insofar as the treatment of Jews was concerned, but he perpetrated such violations himself. He sought to prove to the masses that by doing certain things—for instance, destroying the synagogues—they did not risk any harm to themselves; and to induce them to take such actions, he argued that by taking them they would not break the law but guard it, for this was what the laws—both canon and civil—required them to do. By his illegal actions, for which he was not punished, and which he sought to disguise as legal, he served the Spanish masses as a model of behavior which moved them to believe that, if they hurt the Jews, they would not be punished or incur guilt. Thus, he encouraged them to brave the authorities and take the law into their own hands. A crafty demagogue and clever mentor, he calculated his moves with great sagacity, accustoming the masses to rely on his judgments and, finally, to obey his orders. That his Jew hatred and that of the masses who followed him were products of a long social evolution is of course unquestionable; and this evolution we have tried to explain. But Martinez was not just riding the waves. He had to steer a ship—-the ship of his party—through many danger¬ ous straits and whirlpools, and he piloted it to its appointed destination. Martinez’s share in the developments that ensued was therefore immense. In his own way, Ayala indicated that share when he said: “And the beginning of all this [namely, the pogroms] and the harm done thejews was. the preaching and incitement that the Archdeacon ofEcija did in Seville.”39 As a reference to the initial cause of the events, the statement is undoubtedly correct; but as explanation of how those events evolved, it is incomplete and may be misleading. For the “beginning” to which Ayala referred may be taken to mean a mere starting point, the first link in a chain of developments and an indication of a rather brief time. But Martinez’ activity, as we have seen, spanned no less than fourteen years, and involved not only persuasive

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BACKGROUND

preaching but numerous clashes, struggles and maneuvers, without which the ultimate results he had striven for would not have been attained. Indeed, judging by his entire course of action and, above all, by its conclusive stages, it is clear that from the outset, Martinez’ goals were not limited to the Jews of Seville or Andalusia, but encompassed the whole of Spanish Jewry. Except for him and his closest aides, perhaps only the Jews of Seville fully realized that the destruction of their community as planned by Martinez would be the beginning of the end for all the Jews of Spain.

THE ASSAULT

Castile 1

The storm erupted on June 4,1391, more than two and a half months after the disorders of March 15.40 According to Amador, “no suspicion or symptom of the tumult” was noticeable in the interval between the two dates. But this is hardly possible. The assault upon the Jewish borough, as we shall see, resulted in a bloodbath of massive proportions that all but annihilated the Sevillian juderia. Such an attack could not be carried out without large-scale preparations and mobilization of forces, and such activities could not remain hidden from the authorities and the Jewish community. Surely “symptoms” and “suspicions” of the forthcoming events must have abounded in Seville and its neighborhood; and Amador was probably wrong to assert that on the day of the pogrom, the Sevillian population “saw itself suddenly agitated en masse."*' 1 here was nothing “sudden” or “surprising” about that agitation. Nor was there surprise in the ensuing events. Undoubtedly, the Jews ex¬ pected the onset, and the pogromists awaited the order to attack them. The only item they may have been in doubt of was the precise date of the onslaught. For weeks, if not months, the Sevillian juderia must have been on the alert, with its walls guarded and its gates shut. No doubt the planners of the attack realized that penetrating the juderia by scaling its walls would be a costly operation. They decided therefore to invade it through its wooden gates, which could be set on fire from the outside—perhaps by torches thrown from a distance. This method of capturing the juderias was practiced also in other places. On the day the riots broke out in Seville, the royal forces charged with keeping the peace failed to intervene on behalf of the Jews—a failure so conspicuous as to suggest that no such forces then existed in the city. There can be no doubt that the Regency expected the royal forces in Seville to resist any assault. But the prestige of the Regents of Castile was low; their orders

THE

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CONVERSIONS

[ rc-conversion intentions of the Jews. He ignored, however, the fact that the vast majority of the conversos were not tax farmers, moneylenders, and officeholders, but workers in a large variety of professions of quite a different order47; and he conveniently forgot that the mass conversions of the Jews (in 1391 and 1412) were not caused by any of the passions indicated, but by the desire to escape intolerable oppres¬ sion and, above all, by the wish to escape death—by the sword or by starvation. Thus, we see wherein lay his main distortion. A condition of

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duress, compulsion, and choicelessness—in brief, a condition of “yield or die”—is presented by him as a normal situation in which plans were laid to gratify lusts and carried out in circumstances of completely free choice. Whether Garcia believed what he said is a complex question we shall touch on below; but whether he did or not, his claims were indefensible. The hollowness of his argument becomes strikingly apparent in the double stan¬ dard he applies to the Old Christians and the New. “Our Savior Jesus Christ,” he says, “did not attract or induce those who wished to come to Him with [promises of] temporal dignities and honors, but only with provisions of celestial things.” On the contrary, He cautioned those who wished to follow Him that they would have to deny themselves these things.48 How true; but such advice is not offered by Garcia to the Old Christians. He does not tell them to be satisfied with “celestial provisions”; to stop seeking public offices and honors; or give up the goods of which they robbed the conversos and divide them all among the poor. On the contrary: rather than suggest to the Old Christians that they divest themselves of their earthly possessions, he says that they followed “Christ’s doctrine” when they deprived the Jews of what they owned (or, as he put it, “of what thejews vested themselves with by force, chicanery and cheating”). And then: “Jesus . . . told each of his followers to carry his cross on his shoulders as He did, and prepare himself to suffer martyrdom in defense of the faith and of justice as He did.” And how can “martyrdom” be undergone and the faith defended, according to Garcia? As he sees it, the Toledans showed the way. “The Catholic Christians trampled upon them [i.e., the conversos] and cut off their heads, and cast them under their feet, as is done to enemies of the law and the true faith of Jesus Christ.”49 For Garcia’s peculiar logic there was evidently no difficulty in arriving at such conclusions. Just as self-denial and self-dispossession are expressed in stealing other people’s goods, so “martyrdom

is expressed by

cutting off other people’s heads. Had Garda been clear about this matter, he would have had to eliminate this double approach; he would obviously have had to “coordinate his stand with the Church’s teaching about conversion. But Garcia was neither clear nor outspoken, and nowhere does he make a real attempt to bridge the inconsistency between his own view of the conversos and the traditional Christian position on this issue. In one place, to be sure, he does admit that God, in His infinite goodness, compassion, and mercy, has exempted and will exempt xowcjews from the eternal punishment which they surely deserve.50 He even concedes that some of the converts, after a “diuturnal” living among Christians, may finally be purged of their Jewish blight and deserve full admission into Christian society.51 Such concessions on his part, however, must be seen as mere bows to ruling Christian doctrine—bows prompted by political expediency and not by a conviction and a sincere desire that the

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Jews convert to Christianity. In any case, they could not affect in the least the end result of the policy he recommended. Garcia fully realized that laws preventing converts from admission to Christian society for four generations, as suggested by the pesquisa, would not hasten the free conversion of the Jews but, on the contrary, block it completely. And that is what he wanted to achieve. For it was not in conversion, but in quite different means, that he saw the solution to the Jewish problem.

III.

We come closer to an understanding of his views when we review his defense of the Toledans’ actions against the conversos during the rebellion. As he himself states, the rebels were accused of having committed crimes and excesses against the Marranos (a) by burning some of them to death; (b) by robbing many of them of their property; (c) by ousting them from the public offices they had held; and (d) by prohibiting them from occupying such offices in the future. Garcia does not deny any of these actions, but he denies that they were taken against the law. And it is in the reasons he offers in their justification that he reveals not only his real attitude toward the conversos, but also the measures he wanted to be taken in dealing with the converso problem. Why were some conversos killed and burned in Toledo? Garda’s answer is plain and unqualified: because they were traitors and heretics. They were traitors because they conspired to deliver the city to the tyrant (i.e., Alvaro de Luna) and his servants (namely the converso officeholders), and they were heretics because they heldjewish beliefs and guarded all thejewish ceremo¬ nies.”52 Garda thus restates in the Memorial the charges made in the Sentencia-Estatuto regarding both the political and the religious crimes of the conversos in Toledo. Here, however, the same claims are presented not so much to demonstrate the Marranos’ criminality as to justify the punishments they received from the Toledans. And to strengthen his case against the Marranos, Garcia offers some additional arguments that afford us a better basis for judging the positions of the conflicting parties. We have already indicated that the charge in the Sentencia that a converso conspiracy was organized in Toledo in order to kill

all the Old Christians

in the city” and transfer the city to the hands of its enemies was a fabricated accusation aimed at justifying the outrages committed against the conversos by the rebel government. We have also presented our own reconstruction of what actually happened in Toledo.53 The related data we find in the Memo¬ rial only fortify our conviction that this reconstruction is correct. The conversos’ plan of action, according to Garda, was to consist of three stages: first, to kill the Old Christians; then to steal their possessions; and

498 ]

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finally, after putting these possessions at their disposal, to deliver the city, cleared of Old Christians, into the hands of Alvaro de Luna.54 To the purposes of the plot as presented in the Sentencia, which includes the first and third stages, Garcia then added the second stage—the planned robbery of the Old Christians. It would be really inconceivable, judging by Garcia, that the conversos, so given to “filthy lucre,” would fail to include in their program of action a plan to rob the Old Christians. That during attacks by Christians on Jews, or during armed conflicts between Old and New Christians, such robberies had been repeatedly committed by the Old Christians, but never by Jews or conversos, is of course a fact that throws a valuable sidelight upon the veracity of Garcia’s account. We can understand, however, why Garda felt the need to “fortify” his position by the charge that the conversos intended to “rob” the Old Christians. Since one of the purposes of his apology was to justify the expropriation of the conversos’ goods, the charge of the intended robbery by the conversos would lend that expropriation a “moral” vindication. Thus, if Garda does not give us a truer account of the conversos’ intentions, he does give us a fuller description of the rebels “presentation” of the alleged plot. Next he tells us that the conversos of the city, who armed themselves (which we know from the Sentencia) and got together (“were united”) in their parishes, “remained for three days armed in their houses against the will and prohibition of Pero Sarmiento.” Finally, they decided to implement their “plan.” “They came out into the squares in two armed companies under the command of Juan de Cibdad and Arias de Silva. They would have in fact accomplished their evil purpose if not for the Old Christians who, by divine inspiration, killed the said Juan de Cibdad. With Juan dead, the others were terrified, which is always the case with those of a base race, who are used to conquer through cheating and profiteering rather than by armed struggle.”55 They fled in panic, thus bringing to an end their entire conspiracy. These, then, are the “facts” that Garcia offered in support of his charges about the conversos’ plot. But his account makes no sense. If the conversos in Toledo could entertain any hope of capturing the city—and that meant, first of all, seizing the strong places—they could do it only by a surprise attack. But according to Garcia, the conversos armed themselves and “re¬ mained armed in their homes” for three days “against the specific order of Pero Sarmiento,” who doubtless demanded that they disarm. So the “sud¬ den,” unprecedented organization of the conversos (who “were united in their parishes”) and their unprecedented decision to arm themselves were apparently no secret to the Old Christians. The fact that for three full days the conversos “stayed armed in their homes” and did not appear in the streets of the city could not remain, of course, unnoticed by the Old Christians and could not fail to arouse their suspicions to the point of preparing themselves

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DEBATE

against a surprise attack. But even if we assume that the Christians still knew nothing about the conversos’ real plan, the charge of conspiracy is exploded by his narration that the conversos came to the squares of the city in two armed companies led by two commanders. So instead of launching a surprise attack on the fortresses, they came to the squares, which were filled with Old Christians and which had no strategic value at all. Surely they did not come there to capture the city, because the armed men in the alcazar and the other strongholds would have soon been alerted of their action, and their plan would have come to naught at the first stage of its implementation. We hear, in fact, of no aggressive action by the conversos either in the squares or elsewhere in the city. But we do gather from Garcia that the conversos were greeted in the squares by the Old Christians with a shower of arrows and that, in that initial attack upon them, their leader, Juan de Cibdad, lost his life.56 Surely, there must have been another explanation for the conversos’ resolve to arm themselves, to “stay in their homes for three full days” and, ultimately, to venture into the squares “in armed companies,

as Garcia tells us.

What actually happened is not hard to imagine. The Marranos, sensing imminent danger, organized for self-defense. They armed themselves to protect their homes and their lives and did not venture out of their own neighborhoods. For several days things seemed to be quiet; no attack was launched against the Marranos and no excesses against them were commit¬ ted. They decided, therefore, to end their isolation and try to restore rela¬ tions to normality. Perhaps they went to the squares for provisions; but fearing a hostile encounter with their foes, they chose to come there in armed groups. This, however, did not save them from trouble. Aware of all their moves, their watchful enemies allowed them to reach the heart of the city, and there met them with a deadly attack. The conversos retreated with a dampened spirit, leaving behind them several casualties, including their leader, Juan de Cibdad. If this reconstruction is more or less correct, the aftermath may likewise be easily guessed. The conversos were now accused of having formed a conspiracy to capture the city by force, and their coming to the squares, as well as their preceding moves (from the day they took up arms to defend themselves), was described as having aimed at that objective. These were not merely wild allegations designed to besmirch the Marranos as

traitors.

These were formal charges made by the city for the purpose of bringing Marranos to court and “legally” subjecting them to death and confiscation. In portraying the related occurrences as he did, Garcia simply followed the “official” accusation, one which he had doubtless helped construct in con¬ formity with the rebels’ “judicial” needs.

5° ° 1

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IV

If Garcia thus justifies the killings and the gallows, he has another explana¬ tion of the lethal burnings. “For it is known that they were found to be heretical, infidels and blasphemers of Christ and His Mother.” Therefore, “those of them who were burned as heretics were justly burned, for the punishment of the heretic—according to divine, human and customary law—is death by fire.”57 It was certainly according to “human’ and “customary

law in the case of

incurable heretics, but was it also according to “divine” law? Garda’s answer was, unhesitatingly, yes. And to prove it, he did what any other jurist in his time would have done under the circumstances. Unable to point to a Church decree that openly stipulated death for heretics, he turned to an expert on canon law who interpreted certain canons in line with his thesis.S8 1 hen, to prove that this interpretation was correct, he proceeded to show that it agreed with God’s orders. Such proof he found in Jesus’ words (John iy.6): “He who does not abide in me is cast off as a withered branch; men gather these branches, throw them into the fire, and they are consumed.” Can there be more conclusive evidence that heretics should be burned to death? To Garda, the argument was now sealed. Jesus’ words as cited by John may of course be comprehended quite differently. Yet here, we should add, Garda’s claims coincided with the formal view of the Church—a view that was expressed in many legal pro¬ nouncements and adopted more than two centuries before. To be sure, canon law had not explicitly demanded the death penalty for obstinate heretics, but it had demanded, since the days of Gregory IX, the surrender of such heretics to the secular arm, and this for the sole purpose of subjecting them to “due punishment.”59 What “due punishment” meant was quite apparent from certain implications of the canons themselves,60 but one could gather it directly from the secular laws that referred to this matter in unmistakable terms.61 It meant death by fire which, since the beginning of the 13th century, had become increasingly common in the countries of the West,

1 he Church

progressively encouraged this procedure62; and no less an authority than Thomas Aquinas gave it his blessing and theological sanction63 Henry of Segusio, better known as Hostiensis, the famous glossator of canon law, further supported this approach,64 and Giovanni d’Andrea, the later expert in the field, buttressed the position by arguments of his own.6" It was from Hostiensis that Garda took his proof based on the words of Jesus in John,66 and he considered the glossator’s interpretation as final, “regardless of what some false commentators may say.”67 Indeed, he denounces these commenta¬ tors as “false” because they claim that the “Church receives the penitent heretic to its bosom after his first lapse into heresy, as is testified by the

stipulation to this effect in Canon Law. 68

1 his is not so, Garcia declares. 1 he

truth is that even “according to canonic kindness,” such a heretic is sen¬ tenced, after the first lapse, to perpetual prison; but “in cases of heresy where it is quite clear that such a punishment [of imprisonment] is not commensu¬ rate with the crime, one must follow the civil law, which advocates death by fire.” Hence, says Garcia, the burning of thejudaizers in Toledo was accord¬ ing to canon law. “For even this law does not recognize as penitents all those who regret their heresy after the first lapse. When it is presumed that the heretic repented, not out of true recognition of the faith but out of fear of punishment by fire, canon law judges the case as a relapse and orders delivery of the heretic to the flames.”69 As authorities for these canonic decisions, he cites the decretal excom-

municamus, and the comments of Hostiensis on this decretal.

But again his

sources do not square with his claims. To be sure, canon law, as cited above, recommends perpetual prison for heretics who abjured their errors alter having been arrested (presumably out of fear of death) and also expressed their willingness to do whatever penance might be imposed upon them. 1 he law, however, does not demand the delivery of such heretics to the secular arm, which would amount to a death sentence, as Garcia claims.71

1 he

commentator Hostiensis, on whom he relies, does not give him any basis for such a conclusion either.72 Yet, this does not prevent Garcia, as we have seen, from advocating in the name of canon law actions against heretics which are far more severe than the harshest canon law has ever recommended. Did the Toledans, then, commit crimes when they killed, hanged, and burned conversos to death? Not only did these actions of theirs not constitute a crime, says Garcia, but they were so justifiable that had they not been done, the Toledans would have been guilty of a crime.73 Nevertheless, Garcia adds, the Toledans are not guiltless in this matter. To be sure, they killed and executed some conversos as traitors to the city and as heretics, and to this extent they fulfilled their obligation. “For since they [i.e., the conversos of the city] rose with such great arrogance to kill Pero Sarmiento and the Old Christians [who reside in the city], they all deserve the punishment of traitors,” and therefore the Toledans should have “finished [i.e., liquidated] also those of them who “remained alive after some of them were killed by arrows or on the gallows.”74 For, as he put it, “it is certainly a grave sin to tolerate people who are so infidel and so evil.”75 Therefore, if the Toledans did anything wrong, it was not in killing some of the Marranos, but in “tolerating” the remainder, whom they allowed to stay alive.76 Thus, according to Garda, what the Toledans should have done was to kill, hang, and burn all the conversos of the city. And there is no doubt that what he advocated for Toledo he wanted to see done in the whole country. Consequently, the solution he desired for the converso problem was the

5°2 ]

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extermination of the whole Marrano group. Juan de Torquemada states, as we have noted, that this, and nothing less, was the purpose of the rebels, or rather of the anti-Marrano party; and judging by Garda, the cardinal was right. Thus, the race theory of Garcia was inextricably bound up with the idea of genocide. And could it be otherwise? If a race was judged to be the epitome of evil, the source of all misfortune, and also incorrigible, there was obviously no other way to deal with it than to sentence it to death. Garcia realized that some people might consider his proposed solution too cruel, and therefore he tried to prove them wrong. To begin with, he says, the glossator Hostiensis shares and supports this thesis. Accordingly, “he who exults in cruelty against criminals for the sake of justice deserves a reward” for he carries out God’s will (“he is the minister of God”), while he “who shows patience” to criminals is a sinner—in fact, “commits a mortal sin”77— for he invites upon society the worst calamities that can possibly befall the human race. Said the code of Justinian in its section on heretics: “Tolerance [of such people] corrupts the elements and the spheres, and as a result of this corruption there come deaths, wars, pestilences, hungers, persecutions and tribulations.”78 But let not one assume that in these calamities the reference is only to communal troubles which the sinful individual may escape. “The ire of God will fall [also] upon those who tolerate these criminals, beg clemency for them, and defend them.”79 Hence, no pity, no patience, and no consideration of any kind can be shown toward these evil men. The remorseless, consuming hatred that dictated these passages of Garcia informs and pervades also the rest of his apology for the Toledans. Thus, he regards as ludicrous the charge that the Toledans perpetrated crimes when they robbed the Marranos or expropriated their possessions. Since the latter are nothing but traitors and heretics, who deserve death, no wonder that both civil and canon law permit the taking of their possessions by force.80 Further¬ more, both laws authorize such action against persons who acquired their property illegally—that is, by such means as usury, profiteering, and chica¬ nery81; and who would doubt that this is precisely how the conversos ac¬ quired what they own? Nevertheless, Garcia must have felt that even those who would not question these assertions might still object to his argument. Granted, they might say, that the goods of such criminals can be confiscated by the authorities in due legal process; but does this mean that private individuals—any Old Christian of whatever standing—can appropriate Mar¬ rano property for himself as had been done in Toledo? Garcia’s answer is unreservedly positive. To be sure, he cannot cite any law that permits such action, but there are always biblical narratives to which one can turn for justification. Did not the Jews take, in like fashion, the possessions of the Egyptians? And did not this action please God? “When the Egyptians sought to recover the goods of which they were robbed . .. with God’s permission,

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they were drowned in the sea. And this is what will happen to the said baptized Jews. For they will return to recover the goods which were taken from them, and they will lose their lives after the goods.”82 Regardless of whether he intended to convey by this comparison of the Marranos (who were ousted from the city) with the Egyptians (who were drowned in the sea) a threat, a hope, or simply a prognosis, the comparison is both arbitrary and misleading, as are most of his biblical references. The reason he gives for the Egyptians’ pursuit of the Jews is of course not the one given in the Bible (see Exodus 14:5), and consequently it could not be the cause of the Egyptians’ drowning in the sea either. Yet beyond this, there is an overall idea that clarifies Garcia’s thought from another angle: that the property of such criminals as the conversos is outlawed, and that its seizure must be seen as the taking by soldiers of booty from an enemy at war. Moreover, such robberies are not only to God’s liking, but they must be carried out in compliance with His will. Furthermore, it is God’s wish that they be carried out fully and, indeed, unsparingly to the very end. “God was displeased with Saul,” says Garcia, “for the latter did not complete the robbing of His enemies. Because he pardoned some of them and left some of them their property, he was deprived of the kingship.”83 It follows that if the Toledans sinned, it was not in having stolen some converso property, but in not having stolen enough of it—in having, in their pity, left some of the possessions in the hands of the “enemy.” Thus, the conclusion he derived from biblical accounts with respect to the Toledans’ robberies is similar to the one he arrived at concerning their killings.84 Garcia, moreover, states openly: “It is not what was done in the taking of the possessions that ought to be considered a crime but what was not done. But for this there is a remedy: that we complete our persecution of them, and then our acts and motives will be pleasing in the eyes of God and the eyes of men.”85 According to Garcia, then, there was nothing wrong with the rebellion as such or with its declared aims and policies. If anything was wrong, it was the extent to which these aims were attained and the policies implemented. In other words, if the rebellion did not achieve its purpose, and difficulties piled up on its way, it was not because it went too far, but because it did not go far enough. This was also the cause of the controversy that ensued on the converso issue. For why, asks Garda, can the Marranos now press for the restoration of their rights, their properties and positions in the city? Because many of them still live in Toledo, as well as in the rest of Spain. But had the Toledan conversos been exterminated, all controversy about their rights would have ceased, as it would have become automatically senseless. Should the city, then, seek an accommodation with the King and try to save what it had gained from the conversos? Undoubtedly such proposals were then considered in Toledo, but there is also no doubt that Garcia opposed them.

5°4 ]

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In his judgment, there was one way for the Toledans to emerge victorious from the struggle: to finish what they had begun to do; and we already know that, in his terminology, “to finish” meant to exterminate all the conversos and pillage or expropriate all their possessions. Thus, we hear in his apology for the rebels’ actions an echo of the campaign he was conducting in the city—a campaign in which he urged the Toledans to remobilize for a final general assault on the conversos, which would be aimed at the goals indicated above. Only such a radical and decisive action, he claimed, could swing public opinion to the rebels’ side. In Garda’s words: “If we, the Toledans, wish to be victorious and wish to have our triumph declared by God to all men

(gentes), we have to finish the persecution of that race, and then, by the Spirit of God, all will understand that our actions were just and holy as they are, whereas otherwise there will always be a diversity of opinion. 86 Was Garda wrong? One hates to answer this question in the negative. But history is full of examples to prove him right. While a struggle rages, public opinion is divided on which of the parties is just or unjust. But such a controversy generally ends once the struggle is over. Then it is usually the victor who is acclaimed. For dead societies, tribes and nations there is no court of justice, or even a hearing, in the forums of public opinion. 1 here is no real controversy about their case. Marcos Garda de Mora, it appears, sensed the veracity of this rule. He knew, however, that meanwhile the city was not ready to go as far as he recommended and that a battle of public opinion was in progress over the city’s treatment of the conversos. Few realized more acutely than Garcia the importance of winning that battle; and hence, indeed, his detailed apology for the Toledans’ past actions. We have seen how he defended the killings and the robberies. We shall now see how he defended the Statute.

V

No less concerned than Garcia and his followers about the outcome of the struggle over the Sentencia were of course the conversos who could not fail to notice that the discriminatory law was fulfilled without resentment by most if not all of Toledo’s Old Christians. If originally one might think that the statute was imposed by the rebels’ government on a voiceless citizenry, now it appeared to have been factually endorsed by the majority of the Old Christian population. As such, it could well remain in force even after the rebels’ downfall. And should this happen, the conversos knew, their prospects of retaining equality with the Old Christians would be gravely jeopardized in the whole of Spain. This is to put it mildly, of course. Actually, they knew that their social

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degradation and the reasons presented for its justification were merely first steps in a broader program which called for their total liquidation. To abolish the Statute was therefore the goal of all the conversos’ public efforts. Con¬ versely, to uphold it was a major objective of their determined adversaries. The Statute was an act of law, and as we have seen, the conversos attacked it on the grounds that it negated the supreme laws of the Church and the overriding civil laws of the country. To use a modern term, we might say that the conversos saw the Statute as unconstitutional. Accordingly, the debate that evolved on this issue centered on the question of the Statute’s “constitu¬ tionality.” From the standpoint of Garcia and his view of the Jewish race, the whole discussion of the Statute was pointless. What need was there to prove that the conversos had no right to hold public office and give testimony in court once it was proven that they belonged to a race that was barred from Christian salvation? There was obviously no room to discuss even the possi¬ bility of granting any position of dignity to those who were condemned, because of their natural evil, to perpetual punishment in the world to come, and therefore, indisputably deserved to be consigned to the crudest punish¬ ment in this world, too. Nevertheless, since the arguments of the opposition made a certain impact on Christian opinion (as was evident from the Pope’s bull), Garcia decided to answer them directly; and thus he set out to prove that the Statute, far from being in violation of the laws, was in full accord with all the “decrees and decretals,” divine and human alike. To substantiate his claims by biblical authority, he cites the words of Paul in his Epistle to Titus in the distorted manner we have indicated above87 and follows this up by citing the Mosaic law, which supposedly confirms Paul’s opinion.88 According to Garcia, this law stipulated that “if members of other nations and faiths convert themselves to the Mosaic law, they would have no offices or possessions until a certain generation.”89 But the law of Moses does not say this at all. There is no general provision there, as Garcia would have it, governing all “other nations and faiths,” only definite directives respecting specific nations who were regarded as historic enemies of the Israelites and bore deep hostility toward them90; there is no discussion there of “conversion to the faith,” but of “entering the community of God”—i.e., intermarriage, and nothing is said about the denial of “offices and possessions” which, according to Garda’s presentation, was the main aim of that law. It would be pointless to go here into a discussion of the motives and meaning of those laws. Our purpose is to reconstruct Garcia’s thinking, and this can be done by turning to a passage from another anti-Marrano paper, which was submit¬ ted by the rebels to the Roman curia only a few months before the Memorial was written. That passage read as follows:

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All converts who belong to the Jewish race or who have descended from it—that is, who were born as Jews, or are sons, grandsons, greatgrandsons, or great-great-grandsons of Jews who were baptized [to Christianity], including those [converts] who descended newly and recently from that most evil and damned stock, are presumed, accord¬ ing to the testimonies of Scriptures, to be infidels and suspect of the faith. From which follows that the vice of infidelity is not presumed to be purged until the fourth generation.91 Although allegedly relying on the “testimonies of Scriptures,” the conclu¬ sion as cited cannot be supported by any biblical statement. The laws of Deuteronomy referred to by Garda indicate two periods during which four nations were prohibited from entering the community of God: one was of “ten generations” (meaning “forever”), which was specified for the Ammo¬ nites and the Moabites, and the other of “two generations,” assigned for the Edomites and the Egyptians.92 But the Toledan authors of the aforecited passage chose none of these alternatives. Why? Evidently, they did not dare to recommend the exclusion of the conversos from Christendom “forever” (as this would involve them in a quarrel with the Church which they realized they could not possibly win); yet, on the other hand, they could not agree to have the “suspicion” of Judaic infidelity limited to two generations only; this would have put the grandsons of converts—by then at least half of the converso population—beyond the date of two generations, and thus place them on equal footing with the Old Christians. Therefore, they came up with a time limit of their own (four generations of life as Christians, besides that of the converts!) which would push off the danger of converso equalization far into the future. Garcia, who may have shared in the writing of the paper in which this time limit was set up, or at least was consulted in its formulation, was of course aware of the difficulty involved in any attempt to reduce converso rights on the basis of biblical law. Nevertheless, he thought he could dodge the diffi¬ culty. By using the phrase “until a certain generation,” which did not gainsay the language of the Bible, as well as of the paper submitted to the curia, he assumed he could offer a tacit defense, supposedly on the grounds of biblical law, for the limitation of “four generations.” His argument, it seems, appeared valid to his partisans, and also to their followers in coming times. Considered from our own vantage point, however, it merely shows the callous disrespect with which he treated the laws of the Bible.

VI

But it was not only the Bible that Garcia abused as a source of evidence for his assertions. No less distorted, arbitrary and misleading were the “tes-

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timonies” he adduced from canon law. According to him, there are four canon laws that specifically prohibit baptized Jews from holding offices or benefices in Christendom, and this, as he puts it, for the following two reasons which are presumably indicated in these laws: (i) because they (the baptized Jews) have always played false (prevaricaron) in the faith, and under the guise of Christians have always done evil and much harm to the true Christians; and (2) because it is a shady and ugly thing to allow him who yesterday recited prayers in the synagogue to sing today in the church.93 Yet if we examine the four laws he mentions—those enacted in the Council of Agde (506) and in the Third and Fourth Toledan Councils—we find that he again exaggerates to the point of invalidating most of what he says. To be sure, the law of the Third Toledan Council does entail a prohibition on holding public office—but it applies to Jews, not to converts from Juda¬ ism.94 And as for the law of the Council of Agde, one has only to read it in its entirety to see how Garcia plays havoc with its contents: Jews whose perfidy often leads them back to the vomit, if they wish to be converted to the Catholic faith, let them stay on the threshold as catechumen [for eight months], and, if they are known to have come in pure faith, then at last they deserve the grace of baptism. But if by some chance [they happen] to incur in the prescribed time a danger of sickness [i.e., a danger for their life as a result of sickness], and they become desperate—let them be baptized [at once].95

Again we see that this law was enacted only for Jews (in this instance, Jews who sought conversion to Christianity), but not for converts who had crossed the Christian threshold. In its opening derogatory remark, the law may indeed refer to converts—or rather to a negative, disappointing experience which Christians had with converts from Judaism. Yet it does not allude, even in a word, to a prohibition on granting them public offices and benefices, or to a limitation of any other kind. The third of the laws referred to by Garcia (Plerique, the fifty-ninth decree of the Fourth Toledan Council) does deal with converts from Judaism, but only with those who have relapsed. It offers no general ruling for Jewish converts and orders penal measures only for those of them who transgressed and resisted correction by persuasion. No indication is given in this law respecting the nature of these measures96 In any case, the issue of public offices is not mentioned in it at all. Of the four laws Garcia cites, therefore, only one offers support to his thesis. This is the sixty-fifth law of the Fourth Toledan Council, which prohibits “Jews, and those who are of Jews” from holding public office in Christian Spain.97 The expression “those who are of Jews” may rightly be construed as referring to Jews who were converted to Christianity, and

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possibly also to their descendants. Yet as we have seen, this single law could in no way represent the legal, theoretical and practical position which Chris¬ tianity took on this issue.98 Disregarding such inconveniences, however, Garcia proceeds to prove that civil law also authorized the Toledan legislation. “King Receswinth,” he says, “on the advice of his counselors, all the major nobles (mayores caballeros) and prelates of the kingdom, issued at Cortes many laws in which he in¬ validated baptized Jews as witnesses against Old Christians and as holders of public offices and benefices.99 But King Receswinth issued only one law in this matter, and that law does not deal with offices or benefices, but only with the giving of testimony. It says: “Jews, either baptized or not, should be prohibited from giving testimony against Christians”100; and even this limita¬ tion is by no means universal, for the same law, as we have indicated, also enables “descendants of Jews” to testify among Christians, if a priest or a judge, let alone the King, “vouches for their morals and their beliefs.”101 Garcia ignores this stipulation, and thus we see how an incomplete limitation in one area is turned by him into a complete one in several areas. The fact that he could find no law in any civil code (which applied to the whole country) that denied the rights of converts to receive offices and benefices did not prevent him from stating that there were “many” laws that provided such limitations.102 This is another example of his habit to claim widespread authoritative support for his assertions when no such support existed. Then he refers to the privilege of Alfonso, which, according to him, denied converts from Judaism the same rights which were denied them by the Statute.103 Garcia was not perturbed by the claim that this privilege was no longer in force owing to its replacement by contradictory decrees, laws and regulations of later kings.104 He insists that the laws of the country and the city with respect to the status of converts from Judaism are those which he indicated, as cited above; and bluntly rejecting the criticisms on this score which were directed at the Toledans from many quarters, he declares in his usual bold manner: “Regardless of what the King and the Pope say of them,” and despite the fact that the latter “dispense” with them, “the said rights (derechos), decrees and laws cannot be abolished or repealed by any apostolic, imperial or royal law or constitution.”105 Thus, the verses he cited from the Bible to “prove” the “perversion” of the Jewish race (and which, as we have shown, prove nothing of the kind) and the laws he referred to (which, upon analysis, contain only one canon law and one civil law dealing with the issues in question, apart from the abovementioned privilege of Alfonso) are described by him—no more and no less—as representing the position of “all divine and human law”106 on the converso issue. Garda, of course, was fully aware of the large body of civil and canon law that flatly contradicted his assertions; nor could he claim

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innocent ignorance in this matter, both because he was familiar with the sources and because the laws in question were distinctly and repeatedly pointed out by the opposition. But not only does he fail to deal with these laws; he refuses to admit their existence. To avoid such an admission and escape the charge that he failed to take into account the contradictory legislation, he refers to the latter in the following hypothetical manner: “If, therefore,” he says, there are “some papal or royal letters or charters that qualify that damned race against all divine and human law, such letters should not be fulfilled or executed. Only the said laws and decrees must be obeyed.”107

Conclusion The first apparent lesson we draw from the Memorial is that Marcos Garda cannot be considered a reliable source for the evaluation of the Marranos or the reconstruction of Marrano history. Possessed with a deadly hatred for the Marranos, he must be disqualified as witness to anything related xo converso life. His fury blurred his vision and crippled his judg¬ ment, and his violent desire to annihilate the Marranos virtually destroyed his sense of moral values. We have seen how he presents his case without regard for truth or fairness; how he manufactures, or claims to possess, evidence which was unavailable to him; and how he ascribes to both canon and civil law, to prophets and apostles, to the Old and New Testaments, statements and ideas which are not to be found there and which no Christian commentator assumed were im¬ plied. It would certainly not be an overstatement to say that he did violence to the sources. Yet apart from his arbitrary manipulation of the sources, he is disqualified by his manipulation of the facts. His facts, as we have seen, are frequently invented or distorted beyond recognition. For Garda had no more respect for facts—even for those he himself witnessed—than he had for legal and religious authority. He imposed his version of the occurrences upon the facts, just as he imposed his ideas upon the sources. And the resultant picture of the phenomena he portrayed was as imaginary as a work of fiction. '

If, in view of the above, his statements on the conversos must be generally

disqualified, his assertions about their religious behavior must be considered especially untrustworthy. Indeed, if Garcia could go to such extremes as to claim that the conversos were inherently evil, of a devilish character, and beyond rehabilitation, either human or divine—claims which were unprovable and palpably wrong—he could easily make the far less extreme assertion that the conversos were religiously false.

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It may be argued that a spurious testimony may contain some truth, too; and thus, while his claims about the morality of the conversos may have been fundamentally false, his assertions about their religious unfaithfulness may have been fundamentally true. Theoretically such a possibility exists, but practically the probabilities are against it. For it does not stand to reason that Marcos Garda, who throughout the Memorial exhibits a tendency to invent, distort and exaggerate, would radically alter his approach and habits when it came to the conversos’ religious views. On the contrary, his predisposition to make extreme and false assertions when he thought they could help him to prove a point would indubitably be strengthened in his discussions and presentations of the Marranos’ religious stand. In fact, Garcia had to exaggerate when he referred to the Marranos’ religion, if he wished his view of the conversos’ nature to be generally accepted. For it was only in conjunction with their alleged infidelity that their racial baseness could appear credible. Obviously, true Christians could not possibly be as low or evil as the Marranos were, according to Garda’s description. But apart from these theoretical necessities, there were, evi¬ dently, practical requirements that moved him to take the same position. For only by portraying the religious behavior of the Marranos as shocking to every decent Christian could he hope to justify the shocking treatment to which they were subjected in Toledo. Otherwise, the rebels would inevitably be regarded as plain criminals and outlaws. We must now revert to the question posed above: To what extent did Garda himself believe his own claims and charges? There is no doubt that he deliberately modified, exaggerated, or suppressed many accounts; and there is also no doubt that he was manufacturing “facts” that appeared to be suitable for his purpose. It is impossible to assume, for instance, that he did not know that the conversos in Toledo armed themselves in self-defense. Nevertheless, he declared that they were all involved in the plot to kill Sarmiento and capture the city; therefore all of them deserved the death penalty. We may assume of course that all the Toledan conversos wished to see Sarmiento overthrown and Toledo restored to the King’s rule. But it is one thing to wish something politically and another to act upon it. To Garda, however, such a differentiation was unworthy of consideration. Like so many other extreme partisans, he viewed political opponents as enemies, whether or not they actually attempted to carry out their wishes. To him they were all either traitors to the regime or potential traitors, and therefore they all deserved to be eliminated by imprisonment, expulsion or, preferably, execu¬ tion. If we compare his views and actions to those of revolutionaries such as Marat or Robespierre, or of totalitarian revolutionaries of our own time, we shall have a ready explanation for his charges and a correct assessment of their value.

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For to such men, truth based on facts is of secondary importance. Far more important to them is the truth dictated by their views, attitudes and theories. To prove their truth it is sufficient for them to produce an argument hinging on some fact, however tenuously and loosely; and if there is nothing to hang it on, the necessary factual linkage is “supplied.” To the unbiased mind, evidence like this would appear “fabricated,” “fictitious” and “false.” But that is not how it would seem to a man of Garcia’s cast. For the existence of the truth of which he was sure did not depend on the availability of evidence to prove it. Hence, if nothing was proven about the conversos along the lines of his thinking and his accusations, it did not suggest to him that he might be wrong; all it meant was that the investigators charged with establishing the truth had failed to discover the real facts. For the “truth” he recognized was measured by one criterion: it had to justify his implacable hatred. Therefore, not only the Pope could not persuade him that he was wrong. If all the great teachers of Christendom in his time had come to him and pointed out his error, he would probably have said to them what he said to the Pope: your judgment is warped, you are deceived by the conversos, and the truth is as I have declared it. We have noted the various reasons he gave for the conversion of thejews, all of them apparently aimed at proving that their Christianity was feigned. We have shown that his reasons were mostly invented; but we should also ask why he turned to such ruses. After all, he well knew that most of Spain’s Jews accepted Christianity at the point of the sword, and that forced conversion is false conversion. Why then employ invented “facts” when the true facts could serve him so well? But Garcia must have realized that truth in this case was a trap. If thejews were converted under duress, much of the blame for the plight he bemoaned would pass from thejews to the Christians. And that, of course, would weaken his case. But even more important: if the conversions of thejews were compelled, his theory of a Jewish plan to penetrate Christendom in the guise of Christians would obviously have to be given up, and the race theory, which is largely based on the assumption of a sinister Jewish mind, scheming havoc for Christianity, would suffer a shattering blow. Hence, to retain the myth of the Jewish conspiracy, and all the notions associated with it, the conversion of thejews must be ascribed to their own will, and all the historic facts related to “compulsion” must be systematically ignored. Thus we see how Garcia’s thinking worked and how his various state¬ ments were born. In essence, they were all subordinated to the ideas that he contributed to antisemitic thought; and these ideas formed the speculative constructions that were to play a great role in his time, and a still greater one in times to come. These were: the theory of the Jewish conspiracy, the theory of race, and the solution of the converso problem through genocide. Concern¬ ing this, we shall have more to say later.

II. THE PRIVILEGE

That Marcos Garcia’s views of the Marranos were adopted or had origi¬ nally been shared by many of his fellow rebels in Toledo, and perhaps also by other critics of the Marranos both in Toledo and other places, is indicated, in our judgment, by a satire about the Marranos written by an anonymous Old Christian of Toledo within the first year following the outbreak of the rebellion.1 It is called “A Copy of a Letter of Privilege which King Juan II gave to an hijo dalgo

and imitates, in its style, writs granting royal favors, so

that one may assume that its author was a lawyer or a member of some allied profession (such as escribano), who was familiar with documents of this sort. It is also possible that the author of this satire, who was an educated man and an able writer, belonged to the low nobility, the Caballeros, who were usually part of the city’s elite, though economically often hard-pressed.2 But whether or not the author belonged to any of these groups or classes, he certainly wished to indicate that his own group was extremely unhappy with the state of affairs in the kingdom of Castile, and particularly with its own lot in that kingdom. He lays the causes of this unhappiness at the door of the Marranos, all of whose gains, he claims, have been attained by a variety of criminal means, obviously at the expense of the decent Old Christians. To correct this situation, the king does not do what he would be expected to—i.e., order the Marranos to change their conduct— but grants the hero of the satire, an Old Christian hidalgo, a privilege permitting him to act like the Marranos and follow the Marranos’ way of life. And while enumerating the special rights he gives him—the rights which had allegedly been granted the Marranos— he presents what is supposed to be a true picture of the Marranos’ social and religious conditions. Nicolas Lopez Martinez was inclined to believe that the satire was com¬ posed in the days of Enrique IV,3 but the late Professor Pflaum has correctly concluded that “it was written by a Toledan citizen in 1449,”4 The Privilege still speaks of Pero Sarmiento not only as the avowed enemy of the Marranos, but also as the King’s repostero mayor and asistente in Toledo (titles by which Sarmiento styled himself during the rebellion). In the first half of Enrique IV’s reign, however, Pero Sarmiento was in disgrace, so that these titles, even if remembered, would not have been taken seriously; and in the second half, which was a stormy period, he could not possibly have commanded enough attention to make the author present him as a leading figure. In addition, the work is directed against Juan II, who is portrayed as a sworn protector of the Marranos—a reputation which he had during the Toledan rebellion, but which must have paled, or very much altered, during the reign of Enrique

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IV. The reference to the “absolute royal power,” on which the king relied in issuing his grants, may imply criticism of the King’s unlimited authority—or rather claim of absolute power—and alludes to the rebels’ political views as outlined in another chapter of this work.5 Since none of this could be of interest in the days of Enrique IV, we assume that the satire was composed shortly before the collapse of the Toledan rebellion, in October or November 1449‘

The satire begins with a complaint of an hidalgo about his inability to get ahead in life because, as a “pure Old Christian,” he cannot compete with those of the Hebrew race who, “because of our sins,” have recently been “hatched” (namely, converted) and became Marranos, that is, “legitimate” (Christians, or citizens), who are entitled to employ their “manipulations, chicaneries, subtleties and deceits, without fear of God and shame of the people.” The hidalgo asks the king to treat him with clemency and “legiti¬ mize” him, too, to act like a Marrano for “in no other manner would he be able to live among them without being cheated.” The king considers this request just and allows the hidalgo to employ and invent “whatever subtle¬ ties, evil deeds, deceits and falsehoods, of which all those of that race (genera¬ tion) make use according to what they are inclined to by their constellation and birth . . . without suffering any punishment in this world.”6 It is noteworthy that the author does not define these competitors as faked converts to Christianity, or as “recently convertedbut as those of the “He¬ brew race who became legitimized,” or as Marranos who “have been recently hatched [like snakes?] because of our sins.” It is evident that the author does not want to honor these Marranos with the title of converts of any degree, but to describe them as Jews who became “legitimized”—that is, permitted to live in a Christian society as Jews in the guise of Christians. By “constella¬ tion and birth” he refers of course to what was meant by these astrological terms, then in common use among the Marranos (although not among them alone): man’s nature, dispositions, abilities, which cannot change under any circumstance. Since all Marranos were born under the same constellation, they all follow the same forms of conduct, and hence are guilty of the same deceits and chicaneries without incurring any punishment for them. Following the grant of the general right to the Old Christian hidalgo to live like a Marrano (namely, like a criminal and a cheat), and thereby enjoy all the benefits of life, the satire goes on to mention the special fields in which the Marranos may exercise that right. These fields include religion, morality, law and economics; but the author does not deal with the misdeeds of the Marranos according to their categories, but at random, without any organiz¬ ing principle. Here, however, we shall present his complaints according to their topics. Of the Marranos’ religious sins insofar as they relate to their fundamental

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concepts, the author speaks generally of the failure of the Marranos to “believe in what Holy Mother Church believes ... and what is sung in our credo which is truly our faith”—namely, the dogmas of Christianity; he specifically refers to their view that “there is no other world except to be born and die, which the said Marranos hold and affirm against the truth.”7 This view was mentioned by the pesquisa, and the author, who probably composed his work during the Toledan rebellion, may have borrowed his charge from that source. The accusation was apparently of special importance to him. Having claimed that the Marranos arranged their lives so as not to fear punishment in this world, he went on to explain why, once they thus arranged it, they could commit their crimes without hesitation: they did not expect punishment in the other world either. Apart from this reference to the alleged Marrano view about the world to come, the author mentions no converso belief. As for the conversos’ religious practices, the author mentions only a few rites and customs, almost all related to the Sabbath, which, he claims, they observe meticulously, while they work on Sundays and other Christian holidays.8 These charges were also made in the pesquisa, and are mentioned by Garcia in the summary he offered of the findings of that inquiry. As for the Marranos’ social transgressions, the author first describes how the conversos commit frauds in their relations with the kings and nobles. They become their treasurers, managers of their estates, and members of their councils. In this capacity they induce them to overvalue the worth of their coins, thus enabling them to pay the workers less for their labor, while the latter and all who can afford little are unable to earn the barest living and are in consequence being destroyed. Thus, they arouse the greed and cupid¬ ity, and the inordinate desires, of the lords, who, because of this, become turbulent, fall into want (menguas) and earn the ill will of their subjects. In brief, the Marranos are responsible for the ruin of the national economy, the turbulence of the nobility, and the destruction of the lower classes.9 On the other hand, through the services they render the kings and nobles, they enrich themselves, for they “draw from the properties of their lords what they need for their [own] deals.”10 In brief, the Marranos are described as authors of evil designs and the great Old Christian lords as naive victims of their crafty manipulations, or as weak individuals who fall prey to the Marranos’ fiendish incitements. Thus, they are induced and habituated to dedicate themselves to greed and excessive passions; to rely on the Marrano managers, who are expected to provide them with the funds they need for their lives of idleness and pleasure; and to use their free time to pursue their intrigues and warfare. Naturally, they frequently fall into debt, which com¬ pels them to put heavier burdens on their subjects, and these become steadily more impoverished and more embittered. Thus, the Marranos maneuver the

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kings, pervert the nobles, and ruin the lower-class hard-working groups from which the magnates derive their income. With the wealth they acquire the Marranos increase both their social and economic power. Economically they use this power for profiteering and usury, and socially for attaining public offices, which are extremely important for their advancement; therefore, to gain these offices they employ every form of cunning, subtlety and flattery.11 The offices they gain are those of judges, aldermen, jurors and public scribes, and by means of the facilities these offices offer them, they control the city, town, or place where they exercise their authority. Then this authority, and the subtleties they employ, enable them to ensnare the pure Old Christians in plots that provoke them to kill one another.12 No punishment befalls the Marranos for having engi¬ neered these misfortunes. The privilege granted the hidalgo in the satire excuses him, as the Marranos are excused, from any penalty for “false oaths, lies and falsehoods he might say or make to deceive the Old Christians for his own interests and the interests of his relatives.” In general, the Marrano is “entitled to use two faces, one for looking at a person’s face to flatter him, and another for deceiving, bartering and lying.”13 Following this description of the Marranos’ social conduct, the author portrays their performance in the Church. They become priests and curates under false pretenses so that they may learn from the confessions of Old Christians the sins which the latter have secretly committed. Then either they or their Marrano partners blackmail these Christians for guarding their secrets and not exposing them to the public. Thus the Marrano priests, rather than serving their flock, form collectively a very important instrument in ruining the Old Christians and transferring their possessions to Marrano hands. Obviously, the author would advise all Old Christians never to confide in a Marrano priest or consider any Marrano a sincere religious teacher. They are false to the core, and their sole purpose is to bring harm and destruction upon the Old Christians, whom they hate. But this is not all. The hidalgo is further authorized to make use of every secret sin committed by an Old Christian that became known to him, whether by the latter’s confession or in any other way. Thus, the Marrano involved might accuse the Old Christian of the said crime or sin, and the latter, having confessed his crime and being unable to deny it, would have to beg mercy from the conversos, without gaining anything from this humili¬ ation—for in the end he would lose all his possessions to the accusers, as happened on many occasions.”14 Similar to the conduct of the Marrano priests is that of the Marrano physicians, surgeons and druggists. “Under the excuse of curing the sick Christians or of providing for their health,” says the author of the satire, “they work and endeavor, as all those of their race do, to kill and humble the

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Old Christians, both for the hate and enmity they feel for them” and for satisfying their desire to “marry the wives of the Old Christians they kill. Yet they enter these matrimonies not out of love, but—again—out of hatred for the Old Christians. Their purpose is to “take over the possessions and estates of their Christian spouses,” defile and stain the “pure blood” (sangre limpia) of the Spaniards, and “get hold of the offices of the defunct Old Christians, so that they may pass to someone of the same race of the Hebrew Marranos or of a similar origin (stirpe) or stock.”15 All these matters are usually not done privately. The author hints broadly that in order to advance in the Old Christian society, the Marranos have formed their “councils, unions, confederations, and mutual aid societies”16 in other words, the progress they made among the Old Christians was not just a product of individual efforts, but of a communal endeavor and perpetual planning by which they regulate their moves. The satire is clearly in line with the racial views and social economic charges hurled at the Marranos by the Petition, the Memorial and the Sentencia. It recognizes no sincere Christians among the Marranos; it consid¬ ers them all cheats and swindlers, men of evil nature, filled with hatred of Christianity, which they are determined to destroy. T hus, they corrupt the upper classes; impoverish the lower ones, kill any Old Christian they can lay their hands on, and studiously transfer the wealth of the country to their own hands. It is significant that this author does not mention any religious crime, such as host desecration or ritual murder. Evidently, he did not think that such accusations against the Marranos would be believed, and, as we have seen, they were not mentioned in the Petition and the Sentencia either. He copies some of the charges of the pesquisa to indicate the secret Judaism of the conversos, but compared to other medieval agitators against the Jews, he looks more like a modern antisemite.

IV. Conversos Bare Their Final Goals I. ALONSO DE CARTAGENA I. THE CLIMB TO EMINENCE

The spiritual leader of the conversqs of Castile and their most famous spokesman from the mid-thirties to the mid-fifties was unquestionably Alonso de Cartagena, bishop of Burgos and second son of the convert Pablo de Santa Maria. Jurist, historian, philosopher and theologian, Alonso de Cartagena was also a great orator, a skillful diplomat and a Church leader of international renown. The excellence of his achievements was such that leading representatives in all these fields sang his praises in superlative terms. Some of these laudatory statements were often quoted by his biographers.1 Others can be added to the same effect. Thus, in assessing Cartagena’s life work, Perez de Guzman, the famous poet and historian, saw in Cartagena an outstanding spokesman of ethics and jurisprudence, philosophy and theology, oratory and history, as well as po¬ etry.2 Guzman compared the salutary influence exercised by Cartagena on his own life to that wielded by Seneca on Lucilius, and his influence on the intellectual life of Spain in general to that of Plato on Greece.3 This en¬ comium appears in a poetic eulogy written by Guzman after Cartagena’s death; and as such it may be viewed as an emotional expression, overflowing the bounds of objective truth. This may be so from our own standpoint, but not from the standpoint of Spain’s intellectuals at the time. The carefully phrased stanzas and measured terms in which Guzman stated his admiration for Don Alonso do not reflect a fleeting opinion, inspired by an outburst of grief, but an estimate formed in the course of a lifetime by close observation and intimate acquaintance. Moreover, they reflect not a personal opinion but that of many of his generation. Essentially, we find the same view of Car¬ tagena in Lucena’s De Vita Beata, where the author makes the marquis of Santillana, another known admirer of Don Alonso,4 address the latter in the following words: “Philosophy was born in Greece. Socrates called it from Heaven_Pythagoras sowed it in Italy; you [i.e., Alonso de Cartagena] have now transplanted it to Spain . . . Blessed is she, happy Castile! It is for her, not only for yourself, that you were born when you were!”5 Likewise, the poet Gomez Manrique, in assessing Don Alonso as a teacher of Christian doctrine, defines him as “another St. Paul,” and says that “it is well known that, as far as learning is concerned, no one could be found equal to him since

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the days of St. Gregory.”6 This is of course a great exaggeration, but it speaks for the almost boundless admiration in which Alonso de Cartagena was generally held by the Spaniards of his time.7 The basis of his fame, which “fills the iyth century,” as Menendez y Pelayo put it succinctly, lay primarily in three areas: literature, diplomacy, and theology. In all these areas he provided leadership and inspiration, and helped shape the development of the drives and forces that determined in large measure the course of Spanish history. The positions he took in each of the above fields were by no means simple—in fact, they were complex; and we can understand their complexity only if we consider his motivation and education.

II

Alonso de Cartagena was born in Burgos in 13858 and was converted to Christianity by his father, Paul of Burgos, in 1391.9 From then on his upbring¬ ing resembled that of other young converts who belonged to distinguished and well-to-do families. Unlike Jews who turned Christian in their matu¬ rity—as was the case with his father, Don Pablo—Alonso, like so many converts of his age, did not have to undergo a religious “crisis,” a moral and intellectual transformation, to adjust himself to the life of a Christian. He was accustomed to that life from the tender age of six, with his memories of Jewish customs soon to be submerged by a flood of new impressions from his Christian experience. Alonso hardly needed to shed the “old man

and put

on the “new,” for he had scarcely lived as the “old man,” or even gotten to know him. In effect, he was not aware, in himself, of any other man but the “new.” He saw himself as a Christian and was one through and through

in

culture and religion. This does not mean, however, that certain views and attitudes originating in Jewish intellectual traditions did not enter his thinking from his converso environment, from converso literature and converso instruction, especially through his father, Don Pablo. Nor does it mean that certain positions of his group did not play a part in determining his views on a variety of public issues. Indeed, Jewish-converso strains of influence may be noticed in his cultural approaches, in the fabric of his theological ideas, in his political philosophy, and the policies he recommended to Church and state. Yet these strains in his thinking may be compared to narrow streamlets that wind their way through a broad countryside. The countryside itself—the main body of his thought—was provided by his formal, systematic education; and that was fundamentally Christian or, specifically, of the Old Christian brand. One might conclude from this that his thought comprised some conflicting elements—Jewish and Christian—which could not be reconciled. But such

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a conclusion would be wrong. The part played by non-Christian ideas in the formation of his views was minor to begin with, and even these ideas merged in his thinking with principles of Christian religion and philosophy. They were not a discordant factor. From the age of fourteen to his twentieth year, he was educated at the University of Salamanca, studying philosophy, theology and jurisprudence, and working toward the degree of doctor, which he attained about 1406.10 This education gave him the tools to pursue his literary interests, and also prepared him for service in the administration of either Church or state. In fact, after leaving Salamanca, he tried his hand in three fields—literature, politics and ecclesiastical affairs—and for some time it was unclear which of the three would win him over. As it turned out, he entered simultaneously the service of both Church and state, and at the age of twenty-nine, in 1415, he became auditor of King Juan II and also Dean of Compostela.11 Similarly, in 1419 he became a titular member of the Royal Council and also papal nuncio of Castile.12 By 1428 he was known, on the one hand, as auditor, member of the Royal Council, and referendario del rey and, on the other hand, as referendario of the pope, dean of the churches of Compostela and Segovia, Canon of Burgos and the king’s chaplain.13 By that time he was also well known as an author, with several important works to his credit.14 But in 1428 he was already forty-two years old and his star was still far from its zenith. He occupied several honorable positions, none of which, however, was truly outstanding; he was respected in many circles, but it is doubtful whether anyone could then predict the heights of influence he was eventu¬ ally to reach. By 1428, it appears, he was trying mainly for a Church career, even though whatever real distinction he had gained was in the world of secular politics. We must note this double trend of his career because it was by way of his political achievements that Don Alonso rose to high positions in the Church. In turn, his work in the ecclesiastical domain enhanced his prestige in the intellectual life of Spain.

Ill

It is evident that the son of Paul of Burgos felt indebted and bound to the Infantes of Aragon, especially to Juan, the eldest of them, because of the close ties between Paul and their father, Fernando de Antequera.is Nevertheless, despite these connections, and while he performed services for the Infantes, he managed to ingratiate himself with the Castilian court and gain the support of Alvaro de Luna. It was no doubt a difficult maneuver—to sail from the Scylla of the Constable to the Charybdis of the opposition without wrecking one’s ship in the process. Few Castilians had the skill to do this. Alonso de Cartagena was one of them.

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In the beginning of Alvaro de Luna’s rule, following the failure of Don Enrique’s coup d’etat, he was a member of the council of the Infante Don Juan (1420).16 In the following year, he sought, and obtained, the King’s consent to the petitions addressed to him by that Infante and the nobles of his league.17 Thereupon he was appointed, at the Infante’s recommendation, member of Castile’s Royal Council,18 and shortly thereafter he endeavored, as the king’s emissary, to induce Don Enrique to abandon his attempt to take over the marquisate of Villena.|g The mission achieved only part of its aims, but even so it may have been considered a success. In any case, it seems that Alvaro de Luna noticed Don Alonso’s powers of persuasion, even minded¬ ness and diplomatic skill, and was eager to use him in the diplomatic service of the state. Thus, toward the end of 1421, Cartagena was sent as royal ambassador to Portugal to negotiate a peace treaty with that country.21 The negotiations lasted a whole year, and the peace which was attained through Don Alonso’s efforts lasted almost thirty years.22 He was sent again to Portu¬ gal in 1424 to settle some disagreements over the interpretation of that treaty, and this mission, too, he accomplished successfully after a year s stay in Lisbon.23 His diplomatic achievements secured for him, no doubt, a place of honor in the Royal Council and helped cement more friendly relations between him and Alvaro de Luna. In any case, it appears that the Constable now regarded him as his partisan, actual or potential.24 This paved the way for the two appointments that were to prove the pinnacles of Don Alonso’s career, both political and ecclesiastical. In 1434 was appointed member of the Castilian delegation to the Council of Basle, together with his brother Gonzalo Garcia, who was at the time bishop of Plasencia,25 and in October 1435, while in Basle, Don Alonso was appointed bishop of Burgos, replacing his father, who had died that year.26 None of these appointments could have come about had they not been proposed, or supported, by Alvaro de Luna.

IV

Basle gave Don Alonso the opportunity to rise to international fame, and also gain special renown in defending the interests of his own country. His eloquence, wisdom, skill and experience, both judicial and diplomatic, made him the ideal spokesman for Castile. He won the argument that developed with England over the seat of priority in the Council27; he won the important debate with Portugal on the issue of the Canary Islands28; and he made peace between the Emperor and the king of Poland at a time when their conflict seemed irreconcilable.29 All this, of course, helped establish his authority in the field of international relations. As for his activity in Church politics, it was even more impressive, and

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certainly more important in its results. For Don Alonso was trying to steer a middle course between the papacy and the conciliar movement, attempting to coordinate in some manner the legitimate interests of both. This was, to be sure, the formal policy of Castile, but in large measure it was, in all likelihood, inspired by Don Alonso. In any case, it fully agreed with his thinking, as well as his basic inclinations. For by disposition he was a compro¬ miser and peacemaker. Just as he was trying to achieve equilibrium between the rival Infantes of Aragon, between the Infantes of Aragon and King Juan II, between Portugal and Castile, between the Empire and Poland, so was he trying to establish harmony between the Council and the Pope. The latter attempt, however, was doomed. The opposing parties stuck to their guns—that is, to principles that were irreconcilable—and both were led by exceptionally able, strong, and stubborn men. In Basle the conciliar movement was determined to enforce the decision of the Council of Con¬ stance (1417), which established the supremacy of the council in Church affairs; on the other hand, the Pope was equally determined to bring the decision of Constance to nought and exercise what he considered his inalien¬ able rights as the supreme leader of the Church. A violent clash of doctrines, interests and ambitions ensued. Virtually from the opening of the Council in July 1431, both sides were on a collision course; and the moment of collision appeared imminent when, in April 1437, Pope Eugene IV urged the Council to move from Basle to Italy. The Council refused on the grounds that the Pope had no right to dictate such a transfer. A committee of three was agreed upon to examine the question. Two of the members represented the rival parties. The third, Don Alonso, was elected by the Council as the final arbiter between the two opposing views.30 The papal party, it seems, counted on his support; but if so, they were rudely mistaken; for Don Alonso cast his decisive vote in favor of the conciliar position. The Pope reacted with speed and vigor. He declared the Council of Basle prorogued and ordered it transferred to Ferrara. The Council, for its part, began to move systematically toward the final debate on the Pope’s deposi¬ tion.31 Don Alonso participated in this debate, and we have a detailed account of both the contents of his speech and the Council’s general reaction to it. The author of this account was an outstanding man who was destined to become Pope himself, but at the time was still groping, pathetically and haltingly, toward an unknown future. This was Aeneas Sylvius Piccolominus, later Pope Pius II, one of the great popes of the Renaissance. Aeneas Sylvius was a talented writer, an accomplished scholar, and an acute observer of men and affairs. The account referred to is included in the Commentaries he wrote on the Council of Basle, in which he weighed his

S^l

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words with great care; he was then forty-one years old, had been in the company of many famous men, and could tell the difference between prestige gained by position and that which was due to inherent qualities. One there¬ fore ought not to underestimate the admiration shown in his Commentaries for Don Alonso. That admiration was, in fact, so great that Aeneas Sylvius never mentions the bishop’s name without a complimentary title or adjective. Thus on one occasion, he describes Don Alonso as the “delight of Spain

(delitia His-

paniarum),i2 on another as “ornament of the prelates” (praelatorum decus)P on a third, as “outstanding among all for his resourcefulness and eloquence” (inter omnes consilio et fecundia praestans),iA and so on. Clearly, all these descriptions show how fascinated and captivated Aeneas Sylvius was by Don Alonso’s talents and personality. We should also note that these remarks were written many months after the delivery of those speeches, when some of their impact may have been lost or weakened with the passage of time. Above all, we should recall that Aeneas Sylvius was then a strict conciliarist, while Don Alonso, as we have indicated, followed a middle course. So Aeneas Sylvius’ great admiration for Don Alonso was sustained despite their basic differences concerning the policy that the Council should have followed toward the intransigent Eugene IV. All this must be borne in mind in assessing the impression Don Alonso made, or the influence he wielded, in the Council of Basle

an assembly

which included most of the leaders of Christendom in that generation. This also explains the special attention the Council paid to his speech on the proposal to depose the Pope. We may summarize this speech as follows: While conceding that the Council was superior to the Pope and therefore could not be dissolved by the Pope—or transferred by him to another place without the Council’s consent—he insisted that even if the Pope denied these propositions, he could not be charged for this denial with heresy and, in consequence, be deposed. Aeneas Sylvius could not hide his astonishment and disappointment that his idol, Don Alonso, took such a stand. In his opinion, it was directly opposed to the principles the prelate had so elo¬ quently espoused. This is how he describes his own and the Council s reactions to Don Alonso’s address: The Bishop of Burgos, a Spanish ambassador and particularly learned among the prelates, divided the resolutions into two groups, calling some general and others personal. He spoke excellently about the first three, stating that he had no doubts at all about them, except that the addition which made mention of the faith seemed doubtful to him. He wanted to dwell on this very much to show that the holy Council was superior to the Pope. After proving this by divine and human law he claimed it by scientific reasoning too, and bringing as witness the

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greatest of all philosophers, Aristotle, he said that in every well-ordered kingdom it was particularly desirable that the kingdom should have more power than the king; if the opposite was found, it deserved the name not of kingdom but of tyranny. Similarly his own view about the Church was that it should have more power than its prince, that is the Pope. In this discourse he argued with such elegance, charm, learning and excellence that all hung eagerly on his words, not as in the case of other [speakers] longing for the end of the speech, but for a long continuation of it, and they proclaimed that he was the sole mirror of learning. When, however, he touched upon the other resolutions, and here wished to show opposition, he seemed for a while to go out of character and to cease to be the bishop of Burgos. For that charm of word, that dignity of utterance, that cheerfulness of countenance were all missing, and if he had been able to see himself, he would perhaps have felt surprised at the sight.35 Aeneas Sylvius thought that some outside force—a force which the bishop could not resist—compelled him to speak in the second part of his speech against his own convictions. He probably had in mind the policies of Castile, dictated from afar by Juan II. Actually, however, the dual position taken by Don Alonso on that occasion reflected his own views, formed under the impact of various influences, on the question of the Church.

V

These influences stemmed from theoretical as well as practical political sources, and it is necessary to consider them, at least briefly, in order to understand how they converged in Don Alonso’s mind. As a student of Cicero, he disliked absolute authority, especially when exercised by one man. He opposed it in the State, the secular regime, and even more so in the Church, which, to his thinking, represented the highest ideals of government. Yet he did not believe that any large organization can be run effectively by councils and committees without being guided by a single man holding the reins of power in his hand. That applied, in his opinion, to secular govern¬ ments, and all the more so to the ecclesiastic one, the Church, which was destined to embrace the whole of mankind and was potentially the largest government of all. The solution he envisioned, therefore, was a government of one, limited and controlled by councils of the elite—the political aristoc¬ racy in the secular state and the spiritual aristocracy in the Church.36 But if this was Don Alonso’s view of the ideal government of mankind, he was certainly hesitant in presenting it fully to the delegates assembled at Basle. It is clear that he was considered a moderate conciliarist who showed much respect for the pope; otherwise, he would not have been chosen to cast

5 2 4 1

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the decisive vote in the three-member committee that would decide Eu¬ gene’s right to transfer the council to Italy. When, by his vote, he tipped the scales in favor of the council against the papacy, he doubtless expected Eugene IV to submit to this decision, and thus have the crisis resolved. But the Pope, as we have indicated, acted differently, and this put Don Alonso in a difficult position—if not ideologically, at least tactically. Again he was compelled to take sides, and this time his position seemed to many inconsist¬ ent with his previous pronouncements. There is no doubt that in this matter Don Alonso represented not only his own position, but also that of the state of Castile. Yet this does not mean that the policy he pursued was dictated by the Court against his convictions. In fact, he may well have been the architect of that policy rather than its subservient follower. His own considerations were not necessarily identical with those, say, of Alvaro de Luna. But both men came to the same conclu¬ sions, and that is what counted in this instance. Both the Court and Don Alonso had agreed to prevent the downfall of the Pope in case of a rift between him and the Council on whatever issue.37 For two tendencies were reflected in Castile’s policy: a desire to sustain the ruling pope and an intent to cater to the conciliar movement, which formed the majority of the Council. Castile thus played the role of a neutral whose support was sought by both sides. Actually, Castile was determined that Eugene IV should stay in power—if possible, under the terms stipulated by the Council; if not—by sacrificing conciliar principles to the requirements of papal stability. Accordingly, when the Council began to move toward the deposition of the Pope, Castile began to disengage itself from its previous position—a disengagement that had to be done gracefully, with as little loss of face as possible. Its goal, however, was virtually predetermined: to abandon the conciliar movement and go over to the pope’s camp. For the state of Castile, the act of disengagement was merely a tactical maneuver; for Don Alonso, it was a consequence of his political philosophy. It would be wrong to see the course he took in Basle, from March 1439 on, as the product of opportunism or political expediency. To be sure, his arguments against the deposition of the Pope sounded unconvincing to extreme conciliarists, as Aeneas Sylvius was in those days. They appeared to contradict the basic principles of conciliarism that were allegedly espoused by Don Alonso himself. This, however, was not precisely the case. For Don Alonso was not a full-fledged conciliarist as the radicals of Basle were. He wanted the Council to have the right to decide policy and be recognized as the supreme authority in the Church, but he did not want the Pope to be shorn of all his powers and become a mere official of the council. Practically, these positions were irreconcilable, but theoretically they were not.

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As a student of both Aristotle and Cicero, Don Alonso embraced the theory of mixed government, and a mixed government means that no single element of the ruling body attains complete power. A council that can do with the pope as it wishes may be as ruthless and arbitrary as a tyrannical pope, just as a council of nobles that disregards the king may be as arbitrary and harmful as a cruel monarch. Clearly, for Don Alonso the council repre¬ sented—or should have represented—the aristocracy of the Church, whose task was to guide the pope and aid him, just as the aristocracy of the secular state (represented in the Royal Council and Cortes) should, as he believed, guide the king. But this does not mean that in consequence the king must lose all his rights and powers. To be sure, a wise king ought ordinarily to follow the considered advice of his council, but that does not imply that, on occa¬ sion, he cannot prefer his own judgment. Should not the king—or, for that matter, the pope—possess such right of independent action, the king would be no king and the pope no pope; the government would be not mixed but autocratic, and could be subject to a tyranny of a different kind. If we thus understand Don Alonso, we can better comprehend the posi¬ tions he took. But beyond this, there was another consideration—no doubt, to him the most important: Was Christendom going to be split again? Was the Schism going to be revived? It was against this harrowing prospect that Don Alonso bent all his efforts. It is clear that the policy pursued by Don Alonso gave the edge of power to the papacy and helped undermine the influence of the decisions adopted by the Council of Constance. Those decisions gave all power to the council, but this power amounted to very little if the council lacked the right to depose the pope when he chose to flout the council’s wishes. By taking the council’s side morally and the pope’s side practically, Castile could hold both parties at bay and actually maintain the balance of power in the Council of Basle until the crucial moment. When that moment came, Castile made its move. It withdrew its delegates from Basle and went over to Eugene’s side,38 thereby dealing a decisive blow to the advocates of conciliarism. Thus we see how at that critical stage in the history of the papacy—and indeed, of the Church—two leading conversos, Torquemada and Cartagena, performed vital tasks in the preservation and promotion of Christian unity and papal power. While Torquemada led a frontal attack on behalf of papal supremacy, Cartagena conducted a rear-guard defense, which delayed deci¬ sive action by the Council and gave the Pope time to make the most of his limited resources. There is no evidence of any collusion between Juan de Torquemada and Cartagena in this matter; and probably there was none. Their views were far apart, and their actions were in accord with their views. Yet both prepared the path, each in his own way, for the triumph of the Pope.

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The reemergence of a strong papacy from the trial of Basle was, in large measure, their handiwork.

VI

Basle was the watershed of Don Alonso’s career. When he left for Basle in May 1434, he was just the dean of Santiago. When he returned to Spain in December 1439,39 he was bishop of Burgos and a leader of the Church on an international scale. In view of the great reputation he had acquired and the widespread admiration that his name evoked, some wondered why he was not created cardinal. It was suggested that his position in the Council, and especially his vote in Basle against the Pope, cost him the purple hat. There may be truth in this, but perhaps not the whole truth. Another reason could be Rome’s reluctance to have a second converso in the College of Cardinals. In December 1439, we should recall, Juan de Torquemada was created cardi¬ nal—an appointment that seems to have been delayed, though it must have long been favored by the Pope. For Rome was well aware of the tension that existed between the Old and the New Christians in Spain. Complaints against the conversos poured into the curia, and Don Alonso must have felt the impact of this agitation during the discussions in the Council on the decision concerning converts. To be sure, the decision was a victory for the conversos, especially insofar as it confirmed their rights to assume public offices and ecclesiastic benefices. But when he returned to Spain, Don Alonso must have realized that the decision had little if any effect on the actual situation in his country. The question of the conversos’ place in Spain’s society continued to simmer and disturb the public peace, and less than a decade after the Council’s decree, the king, Juan II, had to warn the cities—through the famous cedula of 1444—to stop discrimination against the New Christians.40 Nevertheless, like most of the conversos, Don Alonso may have persuaded himself that matters were going the converso way. Converso penetration into the ecclesiastic hierarchy and the administration of the state and the cities continued, despite the steady resentment and obstruction exhibited by many Old Christians. And as far as his own position was concerned, his prestige had never been greater. In the years that followed his return to Castile, he became recognized as Castile’s intellectual leader, its great authority in matters of literature, history, ethics and, of course, theology. He was one of the most respected men in the court of Juan II. In the midst of this development, which seemed to have given him a sound basis for optimistic expectations, came the attack upon the conversos of Toledo, which called into question all his positive predictions. Who could believe that this kind of treatment could ever be accorded to New Christians

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in Spain? In its bloody ferocity and brutal destructiveness the outbreak recalled the great riots against the Jews. But in one respect it was even worse. For the members of the lower classes—who, now as then, did the killing, the looting, the burning, and the wrecking—were now joined by the city’s formal authorities (that is, by the government led by Sarmiento) with their expro¬ priations, imprisonments, and expulsions. Moreover, the latter engineered public trials in which conversos were charged with treason or heresy, and in the wake of which some of the accused were exiled or burned at the stake. On top of this, they enacted a new law—the Sentencia-Estatuto—which de¬ clared the conversos to be criminals and outlaws, unfit to be members of a Christian society. And what was even more ominous: they extended their campaign of hate and vilification to other cities and regions in the country, so that hardly a spot seemed free from the effects of their savage incitement. The danger that now threatened the New Christians could not be overesti¬ mated. Alonso de Cartagena must have soon realized that like so many of his converso contemporaries he had failed to notice, or correctly estimate, the force of the gathering storm. What appeared on the surface as tolerable opposition actually stemmed from a deep-rooted hatred which had been constantly growing in intensity until it finally erupted. The immediate task was obviously to check the violent agitation against the conversos, which used racial slogans and catchwords. Don Alonso believed that this could be achieved by a series of powerful “answers” to the racists, exposing the sham of their theories, their motives, and the gross illegality of their actions. There was complete unanimity on this between him and other converso leaders, just as they all agreed that their answers should not have the character of mere apologies. What they really planned was a double-edged campaign: a deter¬ mined defense of the conversos, on the one hand, and a sharp attack upon the Toledan hate-mongers and calumniators, on the other. The strategy of this campaign is clearly seen in the writings of the con¬ verso leaders Fernan Diaz de Toledo and Juan de Torquemada, which we have discussed above, as well as in the work of Alonso de Cartagena, which we are about to examine. All of them are at once defensive and offensive; yet they differ from each other in the emphasis they place on each of their elements and approaches. In Torquemada’s work, quite clearly, the spirit of attack predominates; in Fernan Diaz there is a balanced presentation of the aggressive and defensive arguments, while Cartagena’s work is clearly more defensive, or at least more subdued in its offensive aspect. Its spirit is also reflected in its title: “A Defense of Christian Unity.”

5 2 8 ]

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II. DEFENSORIUM UNITATIS CHRISTIANAE

I As the title indicates, Cartagena did not wish to appear as an apologist for the conversos. It is a defense, to be sure, but a defense of the Church, not of the conversos per se, and it is a defense in the sense of protection against attack and not in the sense of an apology. Leading this attack are the new heretics, who, like other heretics, are also schismatics, and thus disrupt the Church’s unity. Obviously, judging by the interests of Rome, the title “A Defense of Christian Unity” was bound to gain the work a receptive audi¬ ence. There was nothing more objectionable to most Christians at the time than the specter of a new schism. As we shall see, the schism referred to was not of the kind produced by an anti-pope, a split in Church government or the like, but one that was to come as an inevitable result of purely ideological deviations. It is not so much the actions, therefore, as the theories of the Toledans with which the Defensorium is concerned. And as a study of theories, it gives its author the opportunity to relate his subject, directly and indirectly, to his own longestablished theoretical constructions. Written when Cartagena was sixtyfour, the work is more than a rebuttal of the Toledans’ doctrine. It is a summary of Cartagena’s views, fashioned over many years, nurtured by almost ceaseless speculation, and supported by his lifelong studies of Chris¬ tianity, Judaism and the converso problem. In effect, it presents his world outlook. Divided into three sections, the Defensonum outlines in its first (and brief¬ est) part its author’s conception of the course of man’s history inasmuch as it relates to his main topic. In describing this part in his preface to the work, Don Alonso says that it includes some “general considerations.”41 But these “general considerations” are in reality the author’s specific views on the Jewish people in relation to other nations. All the major propositions that appear in the later parts are founded on these views. It was no doubt for tactical reasons that Don Alonso refused to spell out in advance the content of this section in a few sentences (as was customary in those days) and left it for the reader to discover. Had he outlined his positions, unsupported by arguments, his conclusions might have appeared too pro-Jewish, too pro-converso, and perhaps even anti-Christian. If left with such impressions, many Christian readers might unfavorably prejudge the views and demonstrations he was to set forth.

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Don Alonso begins with the Augustinian thesis that the final aim of mankind is to fashion a society firmly united by the bonds of love and free from any disruptive discord.42 The destiny of man, like all the goals of history, is divinely ordained; therefore, that destiny is the aim of Christen¬ dom, which exists to attain the divine objectives. It is symbolized by the fact that, unlike other animals, man was not created in several pairs, or even in one pair, but as a single being, so that even his spouse, who was fashioned from his flesh, was actually part and parcel of him.43 The purpose of this unique form of creation was, as St. Augustine pointed out, to serve as a constant reminder to all men that they came from the same source,44 and thus be moved toward harmony and unity. But despite this fact the “vice of discord” appeared among man’s first offspring. Abel was murdered, and following that crime, mankind has proceeded along the same disastrous course. The “race of men” (hominum genus) was split into different ways of life, accompanied by a variety of beliefs and superstitions, which deepened its divisions. Yet these divisions occurred within a single people and stock (omnes sub unius populi et gentis unitate conclusi), which is evident from what God said of them when they were building the Tower of Babel: “They are one people and one language.”45 There was not at the time any group among them that was distinguished by its carnal origin and which God favored over the others. Divine favor was then shown only to individuals, and only on the basis of individual merit46 Such persons were Noah and Job, who were “acceptable” to God because of their righteousness. But it must be under¬ stood that even the best of these men achieved only a partial knowledge of God. For all of them then lived under the law of Nature, with no written law to guide them. “All of them were then gentiles'' says Cartagena47; and only by employing the light of reason could some of them be led to a moral way of life, associated with some knowledge of God.48 Having begun with the Augustinian idea of the symbolic purpose of man’s creation, he nevertheless parted company with Augustine when he described the diversity that developed in mankind. To St. Augustine, Cain and Abel represented the beginnings of two cities, the earthly and the heavenly, the society of men and the society of saints 49 Each of these societies, according to St. Augustine, was represented in mankind by different groups, both in pre- and postdiluvial times, and their members were related to each other by their behavior—that is, by their knowledge and worship of God—and also by their ancestral origin. In prediluvial times, following the death of Abel, the City of God was represented by men from the family of Seth down to Noah, who was a son of the same family; in postdiluvial times it was the family of Shem down to Abraham that bore the same tradition.50 On these Augustinian

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foundations, we should note, Juan de Torquemada built his view of the universal history of the Church.51 Cartagena, however, found the theory unsupportable and, furthermore, contradicted by Scripture. As he saw it, there was no real knowledge of God prior to Abraham, no adherence to any divine law in the full and true sense of the word, and no society of believers in the divine truths that could constitute the City of God. There were isolated individuals who, through the law of nature, imperfect and general as it was, sensed (with God’s Grace) the goodness of morality and therefore found favor in the eyes of God. But these represented no communion of faith, no continuity of a Church, and no hereditary relationship. Consequently, none of them could be distinguished by birthright. Differences arising from birth were introduced into mankind, according to Cartagena, only at the time of Abraham.S2 For while differing with Augustine concerning the symptoms that indicate the existence of the divine city, Don Alonso adhered to the Saint’s view of the relationship between faith and ethnic descent. As he saw it, mankind was originally one people53—i.e., one race—prior to the appearance of God’s true worshipers, or—to use Augustine’s terminology—prior to the appearance of the City of God. That single people was essentially pagan (or “gentile”), and only a few of its members, by perceiving the law of nature, managed to arrive at “some” conception of God. Mankind as a whole, therefore, in its primor¬ dial state, though living as one people and recognizing its unity, failed to grasp and attach itself to God. On the contrary, its moral behavior constantly deteriorated, leading to the punishment of the Flood, and then was again subject to deterioration until the generation of the tower of Babel. The punishment that followed the attempt to build the tower was usually seen as the splitting up of mankind into different “languages” and national groups. In Cartagena’s opinion, however, that event was not crucial. As he saw it, the turning point in history occurred not with the division of mankind into “languages” or the formation of national societies, but with the appearance of a special group that was to carry the divine message to the world. That group was united by a blood relationship whose origins went back to Abraham—and this fact, as we shall see, played a part in facilitating the performance of its historic task. Thus, whatever differences developed among the other groups, they were really of secondary importance, since the common features of these groups were more typical of them than the traits that distinguished them from each other; and so Cartagena lumps them together under the common heading of “gentiles.” That was indeed the mass of humanity, the mass of gentilehood, from which the particular group had emerged. But once that group made its appearance, two distinct peoples became noticeable—the gentiles and the Israelites.54 The division of mankind into two different parts—one reverencing God

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and the other not—occurred therefore not in the days of Cain and Abel, but in the days of Abraham. Augustine’s idea that the “Church of God” existed on earth from the beginning of mankind was obviously rejected by Car¬ tagena. Prior to Abraham, according to him, there was no such “church,” no “saintly society,” and no “City of God.” All these concepts may be related only to the people generated by the first of the Patriarchs. And thus, if we follow Augustine’s terminology, the City of God made its earthly appearance only with the birth of the Jewish people. That this people would define its spiritual identity by its hereditary ties with a certain family, no less than by its view and worship of God, did not come about as an automatic result of its special conditions of life or its history. In other words, it was not a “natural” development. It was by a special determination of God that Abraham, who became God’s intimate friend (amicus Dei), was also chosen by Him to be the father of the people that would be dedicated to His service. To make that distinction universally apparent, and make the performance of that task possible, a closed body of men had to be created which was radically different from the rest of mankind, and also detached from it in certain ways. The detachment began by God’s saying to Abraham: “Go out of your country, and from your kindred (cognatio), and from your father’s house, and come to the land which I will show you. ”55 It proceeded with the imposition of the duty of circumcision upon Abraham and his offspring—a sign to mark their distinction from all other peoples, and it culminated in the giving of the Law to that offspring—a special law that included unusual precepts, the like of which was not offered to any other people.S6 All these acts, however, were not aimed, as some believed, merely at isolating the people from all other groups; they were intended to raise it to a high status—higher than that of the rest of mankind—and this, too, to enable it to perform the task it was destined to fulfill in man’s history. That task was to establish a society fit for Christ to be born into, and it was in preparation for this great event that these descendants of Abraham were elevated to a rank compared by Cartagena to that of the nobility.57 To be sure, not all of Abraham’s offspring were privileged in this fashion, for among them, too, only certain men were selected to serve as progenitors of the noble people. Thus, from the seed of Abraham God chose Isaac, even though he was the younger, and out of the latter’s seed he again preferred the younger (Jacob) to the older (Esau) to constitute the root of the special people from whom the Savior was to come. Indeed, Jacob, like his ancestors, was chosen “not only as bearer of the right of ancestry and paternal benediction, but also as heir of the singular prerogative of divine love” (which was granted to Abraham).58 Said the prophet Malachi: “Esau wasjacob’s brother; yet I loved Jacob and Esau I hated.”59 Why? “Surely, the hate of which he speaks here is not a human hate, which sometimes proceeds from unjust rancor, but

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should be understood as divine rejection according to His secret judgment.”60 But that judgment could not have been based on the actual behavior of the two brothers. As the Apostle said: “For the children being not yet born, neither having done any good or evil ... it was said unto her [i.e., their mother]: “ ‘the elder will serve the younger’ ” (Rom. 9.11—12). The destiny of the brothers, therefore, was not based on their performance. On what was it based, then? According to Christian theory from the days of St. Augustine—indeed, from the days of St. Paul—the Election was an act of pure grace, predeter¬ mined by God and not associated with merit.61 Cartagena accepts this posi¬ tion; but he uses certain statements of Augustine to amplify the theory of “election for no merit” and thus render it more acceptable. Commenting on Romans 9.18, Augustine said: “But this will of God cannot be unjust, for it comes from hidden merits.”62 Cartagena recognized the difficulty of reconcil¬ ing this statement with the view of Grace and Predestination as it developed in Christianity with respect to the Election. He agrees with Peter Lombard that merit would preclude Grace and also preempt Predestination, for it would seem as the cause of the Divine Will, while that will is eternal and preceded by nothing.63 He believes, however, that when pondering a divine action like the Election, which is unique and full of mystery, we must assume that it stemmed from the most profound wisdom which we, human beings, cannot share.64 Surely God had His reasons for it. For, as Job said, “Nothing on earth occurs without a reason.”65 This statement again alludes to the question of the relationship between race and morality which formed, as we have seen, a central issue in the controversy on the Toledan race theory. There is no doubt that Christianity has dissociated man’s moral conduct from his racial origin—at least, as the direct cause of that conduct. This was also the position of Augustine.66 Yet his dominant, all-embracing view that mankind consists of two racial branches, representing two types of men, the good and the bad, inevitably suggested a causal relationship between man’s ethnic origin and his moral constitution. By rejecting the Augustinian thesis of the two races, Cartagena freed himself from the problem it posed. Race could not be the source of man’s morality—or rather determine his moral conduct—since there was only one human race, and the cause of the different forms of behavior observable in that single “human race” should therefore be sought in a different direction. But now, the rise of the Jewish people—the way it was conceived by Cartagena, and the evident connection between its hereditary ties and its moral character, growth and function—seemed to support the notion that race and morality are inseparable after all. Cartagena, however, overcame this difficulty by his theory of Election. The theory of Election without prior merit—a theory supported by both

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Augustine and Thomas67—enabled Cartagena to retain the view about the absolute ethnic unity of mankind. Thejews belonged to that general union, and thus no causal relationship existed between their ethnic origin and their moral achievements. For these achievements did not come as a result of the pristine powers of thejewish people, but as a result of God’s special care. It was part of the divine plan to fashion a people which would be acceptable to God as the carnal source of Christ, and that plan was implemented through certain divine actions. Not only was thejewish people raised to the status of nobility in mankind—a fact symbolized by the sign of circumcision; it was also allotted the status of holiness, which was indicated by the law it received from God. For “laws which were established for the sanctification of some people are binding only on those they are intended for,” and thus “clerics, who are assigned to the service of God, are obliged to keep certain special laws to which the laity are not bound. Likewise members of religious orders are committed by their profession to certain works of perfection to which laymen are not bound; and thus these [namely, thejews] were obligated to perform [certain] laws from which other people were exempt.... For they were like members of religious orders among the other nations, following the written Law as a set of special rules that applied to their order.”68 This passage from the Defensorium, except for the final explanatory sen¬ tence, was cited by Cartagena almost verbatim from St. Thomas’ Summa Theological And it was indeed on St. Thomas that Cartagena relied in the formation of his conception of thejewish people. To understand this reliance more fully, however, we must take a closer look at both Augustine’s and Thomas’ views on the part played by thejewish people in the history of the City of God. Augustine agreed that from the days of Abraham on, the City of God, whose existence never ceased, concentrated in his offspring—the Jewish people—from whom Christ was to emerge in His carnal form; but the City of God was not to be identified with that people in its entirety, only with the saintly elements within it.70 In addition, he believed that the particular era in which that concentration took place—namely, the era from Abraham to Christ—was marked by two things: clearer proof for the existence of the City of God, and more explicit indications of “the promises which we now see fulfilled in Christ.”71 Otherwise, no revolution was to be associated with Abraham and his descendants, the people of Israel, or rather—according to Augustine—with those individuals in the people of Israel who were dedi¬ cated to the divine worship. Ethnically, they continued the line of succession which started with Seth, and morally they continued the development of the Church which dates from Abel’s time. This view of Augustine’s, which related thejewish people to only one of the stages in the history of the Church—and not to that in which the Church

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was created—and which furthermore associated with the City of God only partoi the Israelite succession of Abraham—but denied any valuable histori¬ cal function to the people as a whole—conflicted with Cartagena’s own reading of the Bible and his own understanding of the historic task fulfilled by the Jewish people. Fortunately, he could find in St. Thomas an authority to support a view similar to his own. According to Aquinas, there was no divine Church—or what Augustine called City of God—prior to its estab¬ lishment by the Patriarch’s offspring. There were only isolated individuals who performed good works (precisely as Cartagena said), and consequently there was no special people dedicated to the worship of God. Such a people was established only through and from the offspring of Abraham; and it was because no such people existed at the time that the Law could not be promulgated earlier, for it is the nature of all law, as Aquinas said, that it must apply to a public body.72 The people of Israel, then, was fashioned to form the entity that could receive the Law, thus becoming the People of God, from whom Christ could emerge. This is why, as Aquinas made it clear, although Christ was born of a certain lineage, to a succession of families within the Jewish people, He was also born to the people as a whole—and therefore the people as a whole had to receive the prerogative of holiness.73 This is also why, as Aquinas emphasized, all the signs of uniqueness we notice in Abra¬ ham74 applied to the whole Jewish people, and why the whole people so arranged its life as to form a close religious order.7S Thus, according to St. Thomas, it was the whole Jewish people, and not some group within it, that constituted the first society of men wholly devoted to the worship of God; and thus, if we use Augustine’s language, it was the first Divine Church or City of God to be established on earth. Forming as it did a fundamental part of Cartagena’s historical outlook, the Thomistic view was more suitable than the Augustinian also for combatting the theory of race. Augustine claimed that only “a few” of the Jews shared in the succession of saintly humanity, while all the others belonged to the “sinners”; moreover, he claimed that the saintly part constituted, even in ancient times, the Church of Christ, while those who followed the “earthly,” sinful path did not belong to that Church at all; and finally, he claimed that wherever “Israel” was praised or blessed anywhere in Scripture, the refer¬ ence was rarely to the Jewish people but to the Church of Christ which was given that name.76 In short, that whole part of Augustine’s philosophy tended to support the view of the Toledans that those Jews who remained outside the Church, and were opposed to Christianity for so many centuries, must belong to the bulk of the Jewish people that traditionally followed the path of evil. Thomas’ theory, on the other hand, placed the ancient Jewish people in its entirety within the orbit of morality; it insisted that the whole of it formed a sacred order, a “priesthood” dedicated to the service of God, and,

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what is more, it imputed to its totality the great privilege of constituting the carnal origin of Christ. Clearly, such a theory could not conform to any of the Toledans’ assertions.

Ill

Having thus clarified his basic views on the special position of Israel among the nations, Cartagena turns to the intricate question of the unique relationship between the Jews and Christianity.77 What was unique about it, as he saw it, was not only their share in the birth of Christ, in the rise of Christianity, its propagation and expansion, but also their whole attitude toward Christianity whenever and wherever they took it as their faith. To be sure, Cartagena readily agreed that the Bible is full of mystical allusions to the call of Christ to both peoples—i.e., the Jews and the gentiles78—and both of course have to convert to Christ, as many of them have done. But the conversion of the Jews is in no way similar to that of the gentiles. In fact, it is not a conversion at all. For when the gentiles are invited to join the faith, they are asked to accept a view which, to them, is entirely new; in fact, they are asked to adopt a law and a morality which are not only new, but also opposed to, or at least at variance with their own way of life, morals, and beliefs. To the gentiles, in brief, Christianity is foreign, and its acceptance means a conversion. Not so with the Jews. To them Christianity is merely a deepening of what they had known, a better understanding of their ancient teachings, and therefore its adoption does not mean to them conversion.79 For there is no basic difference between the Old law and the New; they do not differ in kind, in their tenor, or in the end toward which they are directed; the difference is only in the degree of their perfection—that is, in the measure of clarity, lucidity, and fullness with which they proclaim their common ideas.80 For many things pronounced by the New law explicitly are expressed by the Old law implicitly. They are presented by the latter as if under a veil, but they can be grasped through a spiritual explanation of those who reflect more deeply.81 Thus, they differ merely in form; in content they are the same. “For not only did the Old law show God’s existence, but also the trinity of the divine persons, as well as the incarnation of the Word of the Lord.”82 Also the creation of the world [out of nothing], and many doctrines and observ¬ ances of religious duties,83 as well as “the future advent of Christ, and the perfection which is to come in Him and through Him, all of which human reason could not attain,” is indicated in the Law, the Prophets and the Psalms.84 Hence the prophet says: “A candle to my feet is your word, and a light to my paths” (Psalms 119.105).85 It follows that from the standpoint of religious thought, there was no real innovation in Christianity—that is, it presented no novelty for those who

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could read the Old Testament properly. Therefore when, following the appearance of Christ, many Jews grasped the true meaning of the Law, they could do so thanks to the special aid provided by Christianity. What Chris¬ tianity offered them was, in fact, illumination—and that illumination was the essence of the promise which was given them to begin with. Hence, when the prophet says: “Arise, Jerusalem (the word Jerusalem is added by Cartagena), for thy light has come,”86 we must pay special attention to the word “thy.” “We must understand that the fullest illumination was to come to Jerusalem and that it was to be hersaccording to the promises made to the Fathers and the predictions made by the Prophets.87 Consequently, the “light,” which was to illumine the whole world, was not only to come from Jerusalem; it was also “o/the Jerusalemites; it came to them from the Law which was given to them and from the fulfillment of the law which was to take place within them.”88 The gentiles were, of course, invited to share it; but they were “invited to it not as to their own light, but as to a foreign light, in order to make it their own by their faith.”89 All this of course was meant not only to show the extent of the Jewish contribution to Christendom, but also to refute the current claim that Jewish converts find it extremely hard to accommodate themselves to Christian teachings. What Cartagena tells us here by implication is that the opposite is true. It is the gentile converts who may face a problem of accommodating themselves to Christianity and its teachings since, unlike the Jews, they have to get used to something alien to their spiritual life.90 That this is so, and the reverse is not true, is indicated by the cardinal facts of history, which Cartagena bluntly points out: “It was not Jerusalem that turned to the gentiles, but it was the gentiles who turned to Jerusalem. ”91 And the result was of the same order: “It was not Israel that received the Gods of the gentiles; it was the gentiles who received the God of Israel. ”92 However momentous these challenging statements, they did not represent the ultimate conclusion Cartagena was driving at. For the acceptance by the gentiles of the God of Israel—or, as he believed, of true Judaism, or of Judaism in its fullest meaning—did not mean merely the adoption of a faith in the theoretical sense; it meant a radical change for all the followers of the faith (whether of Jewish or gentile origin) in their practical approaches to man’s problems—a change which would lead to a total alteration in the structure of mankind and the course of history. For, in Cartagena’s view, the history of mankind was broadly divided into three periods: from Adam to Abraham, from Abraham to Christ, and from Christ to the end of the world. Each of these periods can be clearly discerned by the degree of unity or disunity in mankind, which reflect the measure of mankinds’ faith in God and its adherence to His way of life. Thus, the first period was marked by splits and separations into various laws, custom, etc.;

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the second by a continuation of these divisions, and on top of this, by the isolation of Israel from the gentiles, which, even though it had a salutary purpose, indicated a still deeper disunity in mankind; the third period is marked by the drive toward unity, whose achievement is the final aim of Christianity. For in a truly Christian society no difference should be recognized be¬ tween races, classes, even sexes. In such a society, as St. Paul said: “There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither bond nor free; there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Jesus Christ.”93 The “separation” of Israel was made, as was indicated, when mankind was divided and dismembered; and it was made for one purpose only—to pave the way for man’s moral elevation. Now that this end is to be achieved through Christendom, there is obviously no sense in any ethnic separation between Jew and non-Jew within its ranks. Consequently, explains Cartagena, what the Apostle meant by that statement of his (i.e., “there is neither Jew nor Greek”) was that there was nothing in the differences indicated therein by which one of these groups—i.e., Jews and non-Jews—should be worthier in the eyes of God than the other.94 Hence, no consideration should be given in Christendom to a difference of birth, of carnal generation, but only to the unity of spiritual generation, which is Christ’s aim and achievement.95 The carnal origins of the Jews, obviously, fall under the same category, and to point them out as a reason for differentiation is clearly to work against the unification of mankind, which is the essence of the Christian effort and the divine goal of history.

II. PROMISE AND FULFILLMENT

I

“I cannot think,” says Cartagena at the beginning of the second part of his Defensorium, “that anyone will be so foolish as to dare doubt the fact that our Savior had both promised to save Israel and fulfilled the promise by His coming.”96 Nevertheless, he devotes the first of the four theorems making up the second part of his treatise to prove that “Israel is to be fully saved (ad sujjicientiam salvatus) by the Redeemer of the world Jesus Christ our Lord.”97 What moved him to demonstrate this proposition was obviously the fact that the anti-conversos in Toledo not only “doubted” it, but denied it altogether. Moreover, they stressed the opposite assumption—namely, that Israel, as a people, was “damned”—and used this assumption as “proof’ of the veracity of their race theory about thejews. According to them, Israel was “damned” because its “nature” was so corrupt that it was “unredeemable”; even the Savior of the World could not save it.

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Were, then, the Jews condemned by the Savior, or were they included in his plan of salvation? Alonso de Cartagena clearly realized that the discussion was now entering a most delicate stage as it turned on a highly critical question. As long as it centered on the ancientjewish past, on the ages of the Patriarchs, the Judges and the Prophets, he could speak unambiguously, and with unrestrained pride, of the Jewish people as the People of God. He could do so with equal clarity and vigor even when he spoke of the time of the Apostles, for there he could jubilantly point to the fact that the Jews were instrumental in launching Christianity and in defending it in its crucial early stages. But matters assumed quite a different aspect when the reference was to the later period—or rather to the long record of the Jews following the early history of Christianity. Christian thinking, he knew, used completely to isolate ancientjewish history from the later period, as if two different peoples were involved with hardly any relationship between them. Accordingly, the Pa¬ triarchs, the Judges, and the Prophets seemed to belong to some legendary nation that was no longer extant, while the Jews seemed to have appeared out of the blue, on the eve of Christ’s martyrdom, representing in their hypocriti¬ cal Pharisees a malevolent and bloodthirsty breed. Even to more critical minds, Christ’s Passion appeared, in one way or another, to have created such a split—or rather such a gulf—in the midst of Jewish history, as if it actually divided it into two different periods, with hardly any continuity between them. Such men would ask in all seriousness: Granted that the Jewish people produced saints and great teachers in the period that preceded Christ’s appearance; but is it not evident that after His Passion a radical change took place in its spiritual as well as political condition? Has not a curse descended upon this people which no Christian could possibly explain, except as pun¬ ishment for its unparalleled crime of delivering Him to death? And has not the protracted Jewish resistance to Christianity shown that, with the emer¬ gence of the Apostles and the other first Christians, all the good that inhered in the Jewish people was exhausted, and all that remained in it was the residue of that breed, low-grade and criminal, that produced the architects of Christ’s crucifixion? Thus while the race theory might not fit the first (or pre-Christian) Jewish people, it could well fit the second (or later) Jewish people, whose very history since the days of Christ seemed to prove it unworthy of salvation. It was this current view of the “second” Jewish people that Alonso de Cartagena sought to dispel, or rather to replace with another view which could serve the purpose of his thesis. His conception of the Jews in the Christian era was far removed from the popular conception, and yet, he believed, was in accord with Christian theory, Church policy, and the actual condition of the Jews in the world as seen through the eyes of a converso.

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The strongest argument that could be made by Cartagena against the theory of damnation propagated by the Toledans was of course the proof that could be offered from Scriptures that the Jews were assured salvation. That this is actually what the prophets promised, Cartagena had no doubt whatso¬ ever. Reading the Bible like other conversos (such as Juan de Torquemada, for instance), he clearly realized that the Jewish people stood at the core of all eschatological expectations. This was also how the Jews read the Bible. The main difference, however, between them and the conversos was that the Jews attributed their salvation to God, or to the Messiah who was to repre¬ sent God, while the Christians imputed it to Jesus Christ, who was God and Messiah at one and the same time. But apart from the difference in the identity of the Savior, there was the difference in the concept of the assured salvation that separated Jews from Christians. The Jews expected a national redemption, earthly and spiritual at the same time. They expected both the restoration of their statehood and the infusion of the Law in the heart of every Jew, envisioning their state to be thence everlasting and their Law an inspiration and a guide to all nations. The Christians, however, looked only for a spiritual redemption, inspired by Christ’s teachings and enabled by His grace. And since, according to Chris¬ tianity, this particular redemption was centered in no nation but applied to all men, the third difference between the views in question related to the beneficiaries of the expected salvation. Were, then, these beneficiaries Jews, or at least primarily Jews, or were they Christians, and only Christians? It was obvious that to establish the Christian claims, the whole Bible had to be reinterpreted in opposition to the tradi¬ tional Jewish affirmations. In the foregoing we have discussed the sociological background of this exegetical development. Now we ought to remark on the theological prece¬ dents, which can be found already in Paul’s writings. For every Christian who read the Pauline Epistles knew that the “sons of Abraham” or the “sons of promise” were not Abraham’s carnal, but his spiritual descendants, and that the spiritual descendants of Abraham and the other Patriarchs were not the Jews but the Christians. Thus Paul gave the clue to solutions that Christians in later times offered to the prophecies of redemption. Accordingly, just as many references in the Bible to David, the Savior, the Redeemer, and the Son of Man were soon held to refer to Christ, so many references to “Israel,” “Jacob” and “Judah,” “Jerusalem,” “Zion,” and the “daughter of Zion” were interpreted as referring to the camp of Christ’s faithful, to the Church, or to the “heavenlyjerusalem.” How easy it would be, therefore, for any Christian theologian who would like to side with the Toledan party to reject all the

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evidence adduced from the Bible with respect to Israel’s future salvation by claiming that the biblical promises of redemption were made in reality not to Israel the people but to “Israel” the followers of Christ. As a Christian theologian, Cartagena, like Torquemada, could not dis¬ regard this Christological interpretation or consider it erroneous. From the standpoint of his immediate interest, however, it presented him with a special problem. We have seen how Torquemada found it difficult to avoid the pitfalls of the allegorical interpretation given by Christianity to the promises of redemption. We have noticed how, in search of Christian authorities who would support his own understanding of the prophecies, he had to skip from one commentator to another, take a portion from one and a sentence from another, and ignore whole bodies of Christian comment in order to present his case for Israel on the basis of the Bible. Cartagena, however, attacked the question in a straightforward manner. Admitting that by the name of Israel and its synonyms the Bible often refers to all of Christ’s faithful—including, of course, the faithful from Is¬ rael—he insists nevertheless that this is no reason to “tear asunder” the literal sense. The Scriptures, to be sure, may be interpreted in many senses, and each of them may be true and useful—that is, helpful to our understanding of the Bible; yet the literal sense must be held superior to the symbolic. “For out of it, as from a definite root, all the other meanings proceed.”98 It is from the literal sense, moreover, as Augustine has written against the Donatists, that solid arguments can be taken “in the faith, for the faith, and toward the faith.”99 Hence, whatever the Bible tells us about the salvation of “Israel,” “Zion” and the like—which means, in plain language, the Jewish people— must be regarded as true and valid in the literal sense. Having firmly established this principle, Cartagena could now offer scrip¬ tural proof that the prophets predicted that Jesus Christ would come and bring salvation to the Jewish people. To begin with, there is the famous statement in Deuteronomy containing God’s assurance to Moses: “I shall raise for you a prophet out of your brethren who will be similar to Me. To him you will listen.”100 And what prophet was raised out of thejewish people who was similar to God except Jesus Christ, who was God and man, and assumed His humanity from the Jewish people? And to this prophet the Jews were to listen—namely, it is by Him that they were to be saved'101 No wonder that Jeremiah, when he spoke of Jesus, called Him “the hope of Israel and its savior in time of trouble” (Jer. 14.8).102 Similarly, when Isaiah said: “You are a hidden God, O God of Israel the Savior” (Isa. 45.15), had he not called the Savior of Israel, explicitly, a hidden God? And that could be no other than Jesus.103 The Christological explanations of these biblical phrases were of course not Cartagena’s invention. He took them from the Christian commentaries

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on the Bible that since the earliest Church Fathers, indeed since the Gospels, had been engaged, as we have indicated, in reinterpreting the Bible, so that it might fit the events of Christian history and the Christian articles of faith. To be sure, from the standpoint of nonreligious scholarship, they offer none of the proofs suggested. From the standpoint of the Christian believer, however, they appear highly convincing. By the time Cartagena wrote his Defensorium, and also for many centuries before, the comments of the Church Fathers were themselves considered expressions of the Holy Spirit; and who would dare doubt their validity? They could also be found in the conversionist literature which converts of Jewish origin, including Paul of Burgos, had composed in Spain in the preceding centuries. Still, there was a novelty in Cartagena’s presentation, in intent if not in content—or rather in its slant and basic thrust. For when the Church Fathers and the medieval commentators interpreted the Bible to fit Christian doctrine, they did so for the purpose of establishing Christianity as a divinely ordained religion. When converts from Judaism used the same passages, their main purpose was to offer proofs to Jews that the Savior to whom the prophets alluded was no other than Jesus Christ. Cartagena’s interpretations supported these aims and yet had a pur¬ pose of their own. What he wanted to prove was a special point that related to the controversy in which he was engaged—namely, thatjesus was not only the Messiah, who was promised to Israel and came to save it, but also that he would save it in due course; that divine assurances were given to this effect; and that nothing that happened since the appearance of Christ was to divert the divine will from its aim. This was a new aspect and a new emphasis that could develop only as a result of the struggle in which the conversos were involved in fifteenth-century Spain. If we bear in mind Cartagena’s special purpose, we shall understand more clearly the many other arguments that he presented in this connection and why he had to offer so many proofs to substantiate seemingly the same point. Seemingly, indeed, but not actually. Thus, when he calls his readers’ attention to what is written in Matthew 1.21—namely, that an Angel of God appeared to Joseph, Mary’s husband, in a dream, and foretold the birth of Christ, and that he would be called Jesus—“for He will save his people from their sins”—Cartagena was not interested so much in pointing out the meaning of the namejesus, which was lost on his readers who did not know Hebrew, as to lay bare the deep meaning of the prophecy: “He will save His people,” with emphasis to be placed upon the words “His people” to fit the case which he sought to make, and also on he will save—namely, that salvation was not to be avoided or denied for any reason whatever. It is going to be a fact of history, as clear and simple as the prophecy of the Angel.104 Similarly, when Zachariah, the father ofjohn the Baptist, was filled with the Holy Spirit, he prophesied: “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who has visited and

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redeemed His people.'1' “Redeemed” is read of course by Cartagena in the sense

of “will redeem,” since “many prophecies speak of the future in the past tense”; and so the redemption, to be preceded by a “visit of God” (i.e., Jesus who is God), was regarded by the prophet as so definite and unquestionable that he could present it as an accomplished fact.105 That the “salvation” and “redemption” promised in those prophecies was to come to the Jewish people was likewise indicated by those very prophecies; for it was said of Jesus that He was to save His people—namely, the people to which He was born, or “those who descended, through the propagation of the flesh, from the house of Jacob”—i.e., Israel as a whole, and not a part of Israel.106 And the same idea was also suggested by Jesus’ title in the other prophecy: “The God of Israel,” who was to save His people. For who was God’s people except the people of Israel, who were known as His special people? Thus, there can be no misunderstanding about these assurances, which are further illuminated by the saying of Paul: “Jesus Christ was a minister of the circumcision to confirm the promises made unto the fathers and the truth of God" (Rom. 15.8). Not in vain does Cartagena precede the “promises

made to the Fathers” (namely, the fathers of the circumcised Jews) to the words “the truth of God” which appear, in the original, in the reverse order.107 For what he sought to emphasize was that the promises God gave the Fathers of the Jewish people remained unchangeable, and that Jesus Christ was sent to confirm the validity of those eternal promises. Israel, then, was to be saved following the coming of Jesus Christ; this is the clear meaning of the prophecies; yet it is also clear that Israel as a whole was not saved during that coming, or shortly thereafter. Israel, however, was assured that it would be saved, and therefore saved it will be, and hence it must be understood that what the prophecies promised was that Israel’s salvation should be effected through Christ—or more correctly, through the impact of Christianity. Indeed, it would begin with Christ’s appearance and continue from then on until it is accomplished. This is why Peter, the first of the apostles, speaking to the people of Judaea, said: “The promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call” (Acts 2.39). Now, “of whom,” asks Cartagena, “does he speak when he refers to those who are ‘afar off,’ except those who after many generations were to accept the faith? All those of Israelitic blood, therefore, who were to receive the Catholic faith, even to the end of the world, he declared to be partaking in the promise.”108 This interpretation of the words of the apostle came to substantiate Car¬ tagena’s view. The “call” of God to Israel was first heard whenjesus appeared to His people, but it was to be repeated until the end of the world, across many generations. To be sure, Christian commentators understood the cited

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verse in quire a different manner. Most of them believed that by “all who are far off’ the reference was, apart from the Jews, “also” or “especially” to the gentiles, who were “far” from the speaker (the apostle Peter) either physically (by their distant locations) or spiritually (in the knowledge of God).109 But Cartagena insists that the entire statement centers on thejewish people alone, and that by “far off’ the apostle referred both to those who were “remote” from him in space and those who were far removed from him in time. The prophets of Israel, adds Cartagena, foresaw that eventuality too, and that is why Hosea said: “For many days shall the children of Israel be without a king, and without a prince, and without sacrifice, and without altar, and without Ephod and without Teraphim; afterwards shall the children of Israel return and see the Lord their God and David their King.”110 That by God and David the reference is to Christ who was both God and Messiah, the King from the seed of David; that the kingdom referred to was the kingdom of God, the Church triumphant which will ultimately embrace the People of Israel; and that by sacrifice, altar, ephod and teraphim the reference was to the divine ceremonies which were to be practiced by the Holy Church was already posited by many Christian commentators prior to Cartagena.111 But there was innovation here, as we have seen, in the emphasis on the redemption of Israel, on the scope of the Israelitic redemption (which was to comprise the whole people) and, above all, on the length of time designated for Israel’s salvation. For what did the prophet mean when he said that “many days” would pass before salvation is effected? When will that predicted event take place? Traditional Christian commentators on the Bible delayed the absorption of the Jews by the Church to the “end of days'' or the end of the world. Thus said Anselm of Laon; thus said Nicolas de Lyra; and thus said also many other commentators and theologians of renown.112 Cartagena, on the other hand, does not object to the idea that “many days” includes the end of the world, but he insists that the conversion of the Jews—or mostjews—was not to be effected only at the end. It was not surprising to him that the abovementioned commentators postponed the Christianization of the Jews to the “end”—that is, to the latest possible date, or the time of Christ’s second appearance. They were impressed by the Jews’ strong resistance to Christianity and believed that, in the ordinary course of things, their conversion would not take place. But they all lived before the 15th century, when large masses of Jews, who joined the Church, were assimilated into Christendom. Cartagena, however, lived in those times, and therefore the return of the children of Israel to “their God and to David their King” was to him a much more realistic prophecy than it was to de Lyra and his predecessors. This “return,” he said, “we witness with open eyes”113; and therefore he did not hesitate to introduce a

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correction in the prevailing conception about the conversion of the Jews. The return of Israel as a whole, he said accordingly, will not take place at the end of days but up to the end of days, when it will be completed.114 It follows that the redemption of the Jewish people was not only a matter of the distant future, but also of the past as well as the present. It was not a prophecy that was to be fulfilled; it was actually being materialized. For the conversion of the Jews was an ongoing process extending from the days of Christ on, and the mass conversion of the Jews in the Spanish kingdoms was merely a part of that process. Yet despite this apparently acceptable interpretation, much remained to be explained, Cartagena felt. After all, the view that thejews would “return” only at the “end of the world” was deeply rooted in Christian theology; it was stressed by both St. Augustine and St. Thomas, it was sanctified by tradition, and it could also be fitted into a theory of damnation which would cover the whole era from Christ’s first to second coming. Above all, there seemed to be no compelling reason that it should be replaced by the theory of Cartagena, based as it was on his interpretation of Acts 2.39. To be sure, had there been since the days of Christ a continuous conversion of Jews to Christianity, a conversion in substantial or steadily growing numbers, the conversion in Spain could have been reasonably regarded as another stage in this develop¬ ment. But this was not what had happened. What had happened was that after many centuries during which Jews came to the faith in small numbers, actually in isolated trickles, there was suddenly this large influx of converts in the Spanish kingdoms. Could not the opponents conclude from this occurrence that this conversion was an untrue “return,” as it did not fit any of the predicted schemes—and, in fact, any scheme at all? To answer this difficulty, Cartagena devoted the second theorem of the second part.

Ill

The novel argument implied in his answer is that in order to discern the scheme ordained by God, one must view—or review—the ancient prophe¬ cies in light of the historical developments. This is what Cartagena did; and what he came up with was a view of the past which appealed to him by its structural design, as well as by the use he could make of it in the crucial debate in which he was involved. Christ’s early life, according to Cartagena, indicates, by a series of sym¬ bolic events, the various stages in the expansion of Christianity. To begin with, on the very day of His birth His coming was proclaimed by the angel of God to the “shepherds who were then abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night” (Luke 2.8). Cartagena identifies the shepherds as Jews, adding that they “signified the Apostles and other Jews who believed

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[in Christ] in those times.”115 They were the first to adopt the faith and, as the Apostle says, “there were not many mighty or many noble among them” (I Cor. 1.26). Then, on the thirteenth day of his life, he became known to the adoring magi. These symbolize the acceptance of the faith by the gentile kings and the masses who followed them, as is indicated in Psalms: “And many kings will adore him and many nations will serve him” (Psalms 71.11). Finally, on the fortieth day he was brought to the Temple, where Simon the Just received the faith. The Temple symbolized the power, and hence the universality, ofjewry. Thus, these symbolic events hold the key to the future developments. “The firstlings of the Israelitic people, figured in the shep¬ herds, came before the firstlings of the gentiles in receiving the Catholic faith, but the fullness of the gentiles represented by the Magi came before the fullness of the Israelitic people. Hence the apostle Paul said: “Blindness in part has happened to Israel, until the fullness of the Gentiles had come in. And so all of Israel shall be saved”116 Holy Scripture gives a clear indication of the various stages of the conver¬ sion to the faith to be passed through by both the Jews and the gentiles. But Cartagena believes that it also indicates the stretches of time that were to be involved. For “although thirteen days passed between the shepherds and the magi, twice as many days separated the magi from Simon. What else may be concluded from this fact except that while the plenitude of the gentiles was to come [to the faith] in the near future, the full coming of the whole people of Israel was to be awaited for a long time.”117 This was of course a mystical interpretation and by no means of a compel¬ ling nature. But it was fascinating in more ways than one, and it was appeal¬ ing to a true believer; for resorting to such mystical interpretations was not at all uncommon in those days. It was part of a long exegetical tradition followed in Christendom from the Church Fathers on, and this tradition was not slighted or abandoned even with the growth of classical studies. In any case, it was still believed in Christendom that the words of Scripture prefig¬ ure the future, just as it was generally believed by Jews that they contain allusions to the Messianic age. Above all, both Greek and Roman literature are full of indications of oracular knowledge and other ways of learning future events. As for Cartagena, who was heir to both traditions, the Christian and Jewish (through his converso background), there is no doubt that he could believe, in some measure, in the truth of his interpretation. In this he was a typical representative of his age. Mysticism and cold logic, blind faith and realism met in the thinking of this Christian humanist, this student of Seneca and Cicero on the one hand, and of Augustine and Jerome on the other, as they met in the minds of many of his contemporaries, Christian and Jewish alike. What was the reason for the sequence of events thus established for the

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spread of Christianity? Cartagena dismisses the question as impudent. “Since, as the Jurists say, we cannot find the reasons for all the innovations made by our ancestors, it would be foolish to try to comprehend the profundity of the divine counsel by the limited powers of our thinking.118 Such questions belong to the category of mysteries that must be regarded by man as insolu¬ ble, and therefore need not be inquired into. What is important—and suffi¬ cient—for us to know is not the reason for the developments but the order we can discern in them, so that we may be in a better position to relate the events to each other. For where there is order, there is a plan; and where there is a plan embracing the events that occurred across a long span of time, there is visible the hand of God. Implied in this of course was the dominant view that God is the architect of man’s history, and that none of His structures is in any way whimsical, but based on the most perfect and harmonious plan. Obviously, the more God’s plan in history is unfolded and revealed to us through its very execution, the more capable we are of grasping its outline, and that means discerning future events by the pattern of the past. Now, to Cartagena’s thinking, there was no doubt that much of God’s plan for the expansion of Christianity, for its conquest of mankind and its conver¬ sion to God, had already been implemented. And it is by reflecting on the fate of the Jews, and their particular part in the advancement of the faith, that the outline of God’s plan can be perceived. Especially does the plan become apparent when one ponders the developments in the Jewish camp in rela¬ tively recent times. God’s outline suddenly emerges from the heavy, fleeting mist of the past, and a pattern can be observed in the seemingly chaotic events. What is obvious is that the great historic drama—that of the conver¬ sion of the world to God—begins with the conversion of the Israelites and ends with their conversion; first on a small scale, finally on a large scale, with a reversed order assigned for the gentiles. While the firstlings of the Jews preceded the firstlings of the gentiles, the multitude of the gentiles was to precede the multitude of the Jews. Of course, conversions from the Jews, like those from the gentiles, will continue throughout the period; and therefore when we say that their plenitude will come toward the end of the Christian era, it does not mean that this “coming” will be swift, accomplished in one swoop, or in a short spell. It is likely to take a considerable time, just as the conversion of the gentiles did—that is, of those who came in large numbers. “All this,” says Cartagena, “shows with sufficient clarity to the devotedly contemplative person, and to one reflecting with a sincere heart, that inas¬ much as the conversion of the Israelitic infidels becomes from time to time more general, so much closer approaches the time of which the Apostle said: ‘All of Israel will be saved’ and, in consequence, the end of this toilsome world.”119 And again: “The more frequent and abundant become the conver-

sions of the Israelite infidels, the more probable it becomes that the day of universal judgment is approaching.”120 The conversion of Israel is thus proceeding according to its divinely destined schedule. One should not be surprised that its “fullness” will come late, or doubt the soundness of the later conversions. Israel after the appear¬ ance of Christ, like Israel prior to His appearance, is acting according to the divine plan. It offered the “basis” for Christendom in the past; it will offer the “roof’ for Christendom in the future. To speak of it as condemned in the second period of its existence is therefore no more foolish than to suggest that it was cursed in the pre-Christian times. This is Israel to whom the promise was given, and this is Israel in whom the same promise was being fulfilled as God wished it.

IV. THE CRUCIAL OBSTACLE

I

From the standpoint of the Church’s general ideology, Cartagena’s refuta¬ tion of the racists’ assertions was undoubtedly a masterpiece. From the standpoint of the Church’s view of the Jews, however, it was still open to attack. For with all his arguments about Israel’s election, its past glory and past services to Christendom, he did not cancel the effect of the notorious fact that Israel had committed deicide (a fact of which all Christians were cer¬ tain), or of the prevalent view in Christendom that Israel was being “pun¬ ished” for that crime. As long as these convictions remained unshaken, they could always give rise, Cartagena believed, to a race theory like that of the Toledans, and with it to the theory of damnation. The likely developments in such circumstances were too grim to be ignored. The principle of racial equality could be upheld as a hallowed concept in Christendom; yet thejewish race might be excluded from it as an “exception”—such as all rules have. The exclusion could be easily justified by pointing to two outstanding facts: The Jews formed an “exception” in mankind by the part they played in the Crucifixion; and they were an exception among all peoples by the fate that had befallen them ever since. What could be the reason for these two exceptions if not the Jews’ excep¬ tional nature—or rather their extraordinary evil? Obviously, we are again at the back door of the race theory and the theory of damnation. Thus, Car¬ tagena felt that, unless he struck hard at the notion of the Passion which projects the Jew as a deicide, all his arguments and demonstrations on behalf of the Jews—and, indirectly, on behalf of the conversos—could be easily discarded.

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There is no doubt that the question of the Passion was broached in converso circles many times.121 To be sure, the main responsibility for the Passion was laid by the conversos at the door of the Jews, as was done by all other Christians; yet directly and indirectly, it cast a shadow also upon the conversos themselves. According to the Gospel of Matthew, the Jews de¬ clared prior to Jesus’ execution: “Let his blood be on us and on our chil¬ dren,”122 and this statement, understood as an oath, was taken as a “curse” on all the descendants of the Jews. Moreover, the “curse” could be interpreted to mean—as indeed it was on many occasions—that the “children” of the Jews were to pay with their blood for the spilled blood of Christ.123 And were not the conversos descendants of the Jews and thus subject to the same curse? Very subtly, without appearing apologetic, Cartagena touches upon the subject of the Passion in several places in his book.

II

In all probability, Cartagena’s thoughts on this subject, as we find them expressed in his Defensorium, took shape in the course of many years. But as far as we know, he had not exposed them earlier, either orally or in writing. If so, this was the first time that a strong attack was launched within Christen¬ dom upon the traditional Christian view of the Passion andjewish responsi¬ bility for it. Cartagena’s argument is both theological and historical. Theologically, he remains firmly on Christian ground, and it is from an advanced Christian position that he attacks the prevailing concept. Historically, he appears equally sound, since his facts are taken from the Old and New Testaments, whose reported events were not questioned in the Middle Ages by any Christian student. He begins with the theological argument and proceeds with the historical. Here we shall present the latter first, as it will help us see the coherence of his thoughts. Cartagena comes straight to the heart of the issue. The crime of the Crucifixion is laid at the door of the Jewish people as a whole, and it is assumed that all the Jews at the time of Jesus were directly involved in, or responsible for it; consequently, if their descendants have to pay for it, all the Jews of the succeeding generations are to bear the consequences of that crime. But this conclusion, Cartagena claims, is based on false premises. To begin with, he points out the fallacy of the notion that the Jews—namely, the people as a whole—were involved in Jesus’ crucifixion. For “only few among thejews participated in that crime”; and this was so for obvious reasons. First, the ten tribes, the largest part of the Israelites, were exiled from their land long before the Crucifixion, and obviously had nothing to do with anything that occurred in Judea during the time of Jesus. Second, of the tribes that

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remained in Palestine, most of their members lived outside Jerusalem and were not among those who assembled in the city during the events in question; therefore they, too, could in no way be responsible for the Cruci¬ fixion and the Passion. Third, among those who lived near Jerusalem, “who can say how many holy men and women were deeply pained by that most perverse act as, for instance, the Blessed Virgin, whose heart was pierced by a sword?” Fourth, also in Jerusalem we know that holy women grieved intensely over what was being done tojesus, and the Savior himself confirms this fact by the words of compassion he addressed to them: “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me.” Fifth, the sacred college of the apostles, and the devoted host of Jesus’ disciples, such as Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathaea, were of course opposed to the insane malice of those who commit¬ ted that gruesome crime. Sixth, the pervert people themselves requested that the execution take place not on a holiday, “lest there be an uproar among the people.” They feared, as is reported, that the assembled crowds, who be¬ lieved Jesus to have been a prophet, would oppose their action by force. All this shows that only few among the Jews were involved in the crime of Crucifixion.124 But to what extent were these few really responsible for the crime? It is here that the theolqgical argument comes in. Cartagena sees in the process of the Passion—in the share of the various culprits in the crime and the order of their participation in it—symbolic indications of forthcoming events, whose meaning may become intelligible only if we understand that the whole drama, in all its stages, with all its actors and witnesses to boot, was preor¬ dained by Christ himself. Rather than a result of human weakness, wicked¬ ness, and perverted desires, the Passion was a result of divine planning and an expression of divine will. In other words, the Passion was an act of Christ, and like all His other acts, as St. Thomas understood,125 it was ordered and performed so as “to make the minds of the faithful rise in great admiration and devotion.”126 Why do Jews appear first among those who were responsi¬ ble for Christ’s execution? Why do gentiles appear later? For “in that manner was prefigured the effect of the Passion” upon mankind.127 It was His will that under the impact of the Passion the Jews would be the first to be led to salvation; and after many of them had been baptized and began their preach¬ ing among the gentiles, the effect of the Passion would pass to the gentile world. “It was fitting therefore that Christ begin His Passion at the hands of the Jews, and that later, when these delivered Him to the gentiles, he complete His Passion at the hands of the Gentiles, so that thus all might participate in the guilt, just as they were to participate in the beneficence.”128 Since all this had been preordained, we must of course be very cautious in attributing extra guilt to the Jews. Nevertheless, sub specie humanitatis, we do see things in our human light; and since predestination does not cancel free

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will, or eliminate human responsibility, we do have the right, and even the duty, to define things from our own standpoint. And what do we see from this standpoint? There were three human groups who shared in both the preparation and execution of the Passion: there were the Jewish priests and rulers; there were some common people from among the Jews; and there were the Roman leaders and soldiers (who stand for the gentiles). Cartagena attributes to each of these groups a different degree of guilt and, in agreement with Christian tradition, he admits that the guilt of the Jews was greater. Yet even among the Jews two degrees of guilt must be distinguished. Of these the guiltier were the Jewish leaders, who were called “princes” by the Apostle.129 For even though they were ignorant of Christ’s divinity, and even though, as the Apostle said, “had they known this, they would not have crucified Him,”130 nevertheless “that ignorance does not excuse them from the crime.” For they knew from the prophets, with whom they were familiar, the signs of the future coming of Christ; they did see these signs in Christ; and if they failed to recognize Him for what He was, it was because hate and envy had perverted their judgment and made them refuse to see Him in a true light. “Their guilt therefore was the heaviest, both because of the nature of the crime and the malice” which gave birth to it.131 As for the common people among the Jews, their sin was also heavy, no doubt, though their guilt was somewhat diminished by the greater measure of their ignorance. Hence Bede’s words on the verse: Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.132 “He asks forgiveness for those who did not know what they were doing, namely, who did what they did out of zeal for God, but not out of their knowledge.”133 The gentiles, by whose hands Christ was crucified, also sinned of course, but they were much more excusable, as they did not have the knowledge of the Law.134 Thus all people, both Israelite and gentile, leaders and commoners, participated in the crime and had a share in Christ’s Passion, but divine clemency refused to forget its mercy even during the very perpetration of the crime, and hence the words of Jesus: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” In fact, in those who par¬ ticipated in the Passion—Jews and gentiles—the whole human race was represented, just as those who showed signs of repentance after it—and these were, again, Jews and gentiles—represented the whole mass of humanity. Moreover, salvation was offered not only to men of the generation then living, but to all those who were willing to follow in their footsteps for all time to come.135 Even though Cartagena attempts to present Jewish responsibility for the Passion in keeping with the traditional Christian view, the manner in which he presents it mitigates the accusation. For the degree of guilt, as he indicated clearly, depended heavily on the degree of awareness of who Christ was, and, as we have seen, he took pains to point out that none of the Jews, not even

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their leaders, realized that the man they condemned was Christ. In support of this thesis, he enlists St. Paul, whose authority would presumably preclude all opposition. To be sure, Cartagena also said that ignorance could not exonerate the Jews from the crime, for they could know who Jesus was if they truly ’wanted to know; and yet the fact remained that the Jewish leaders were ignorant of Jesus’ divinity, and this fact cannot be minimized despite all explanations to the contrary. It was in this ignorance, shared by all the participants, Jews and gentiles, that Cartagena sees the reason for the divine clemency. Hence when Jesus said: “Forgive them, for they know not,” etc., he referred to all the participants in the crime—since all of them, in effect, did not know. This was of course a novel view in Christian theological literature. But novelty in a dogmatic faith is prohibited, unless it is implied or indicated in the words of recognized authorities. Cartagena, as we have seen, relied for his interpretation on what he found in the Gospels. Beyond the Gospels, however, he could refer only to Bede. But Bede’s comment on Jesus’ words: “Forgive them, etc.” is far different from Cartagena’s presentation. Here is Bede’s full statement on the matter as it appears in his commentary on Luke: It should be soberly observed that not for those who, inflamed by the stimuli of envy and malice, although they knew the son of God, but preferred to crucify rather than admit, he offered prayers [of forgiveness] to the father, but surely for those who had the zeal for God, though not out of knowledge, and did not know what they were doing.136 Bede, then, clearly distinguishes between those who knew that Jesus was the Son of God but refused to admit it (and hence were not included in Jesus’ prayer) and those who were ignorant of this fact (for whom Jesus indeed prayed), while according to Cartagena, all who were involved in the crime were in fact ignorant of Christ’s divinity. To be sure, he too attributed envy and malice to the Jewish “priests and rulers,” but the effect of these sinful attitudes was that their hearts and minds were shut to the light of the truth, but not that the knowledge of the truth reached them and they refused to admit it. The Jewish leaders, according to Cartagena, could not possibly admit Christ’s divinity, because they were never aware of it, however deplor¬ able were the causes of this unawareness; and therefore even though they were guilty of the crime, and even guiltier than the other participants in the Passion, they were not excluded from those who did not know (as is testified by the Apostle) and consequently they were not excluded from Christ’s prayer of forgiveness either.137 If all this seemed quite clear to Cartagena, there could be no doubt about the implied conclusion either. That conclusion was that the doors of salva¬ tion were closed to none of the participants in the Passion (who, as we have

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noticed, represented symbolically all Jews and all gentiles—i.e., the whole human race). And this is really what that “forgiveness” meant. It meant that the crime of the Crucifixion precluded no one from salvation, which is attainable by repentance and recognition of Christ. This, too, is indicated in the story of the Passion, or rather in its immediate aftermath. For the Gospels tell us that the Roman centurion, and the others who represented the gentiles in the Crucifixion, recognized, after the act, what had been done and de¬ clared: “This was the Son of God!” (Matthew 27.54). Similarly, the whole crowd that “came to the sight”—namely, all the Jews who witnessed the Passion—“smote their breasts and returned” to the way of truth (Luke 23.48). Both these groups, the Jewish and the gentile, represented the totality of the future faithful from both the gentiles and the Jews. They were all “forgiven” because they were all qualified to be accepted to the Church of God.138

Ill

Cartagena no doubt felt that by this treatment of the Passion, he removed the only effective argument that could be made against accepting Jews into the Church on equal footing with all other Christians. And by doing so, he believed, he had dealt a fatal blow to the theory of “damnation” which was so stressed by the Toledans. But his arguments did not serve only to uphold the principle of equality. Another principle, that of unity, was likewise given a great boost. To Car¬ tagena this was self-evident. If in the society that emanated spiritually, through a spiritual birth, from the second Adam (Christ) all carnal differences were brought to nought, inevitably all the followers of Christ, from whatever tribe (gens), or “whatever part of that ancient blood,” constitute one people. Vividly to illustrate what he had in mind with respect to the sameness and equality of that people, Cartagena offers the following example, whose mean¬ ing and implications are beyond question. According to him, all nations and races intermingle in Christianity as the rivers in the sea, and just as none of these rivers, however great, maintains its separate existence in the sea, “for all the waters, whencesoever they come, receive the maritime taste, and retain neither the name nor the quality of their old origin” so are the nations bound to disappear in the great sea of Christian¬ ity.139 It should not be assumed, of course, that Cartagena believed that this unification would occur instantly, or materialize in a short span of time. Obviously he realized that the process of this admixture—the intermingling of so many peoples to the point where their offspring lose their special characteristics and the awareness of their old origins—takes a long time; but to him that process was fixed and irreversible, and its outcome so distinctly

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foreseen that one could regard it as an accomplished fact. Moreover, the principle of one peoplehood, he believed, guides the policies of Christianity so clearly that all its followers must see themselves as members of one people even before the racial fusion is completed. For it is the spiritual unity, the unity of virtue, that gave birth to the society of the Church, and it is this very unity that dictates all other unions that are to be achieved in Christendom. Hence, by the laws of that unity, anyone who joins the society of Christ becomes, de jure and de facto, from the moment of his joining, an equal member of the Christian people. That, in light of this, no racial division is permissible or tolerable in this people is to Cartagena self-evident. In fact, it can in no way be recognized— either practically or theoretically. Consequently, even nominal distinctions such as Old Christians and New Christians have no room whatever in Chris¬ tendom and ought not to be tolerated. They mar the basic unity of the Church and represent, in effect, a contradiction in terms of the fundamental tenets of Christianity. Indeed, according to these tenets, there are no Chris¬ tians who may be regarded as Old, for “there are no Catholics who did not come to the faith recently" (i.e., in this generation), since no Catholic, what¬ ever his origin, is born a Christian.140 Christianity can be received only through the sacrament of baptism, and this door must be entered by each initiate. “Hence,” said Augustine, “if a pregnant mother is baptized, the child within her womb remains unbaptized for he does not belong to the maternal body.”141 And Isidore of Seville says: “Those who are in the maternal womb cannot be baptized with the mother; for he who is not yet born according to Adam cannot be reborn according to Christ. Regeneration cannot be said of him in whom generation has not preceded.”142 Thus, since Christianity begins with every person at some moment of his own life, children of Jewish parents who were baptized at any time are no different from children of Christian parents, and no one can be considered an older Christian than another unless the date of his baptism precedes that of the baptism of some other person; but in this case many children ofjewish parents may be considered older than those of many Christians. Obviously, a differentiation between two distinct groups of Christians on the basis of some such principle is absurd, opposed to the sacrament of baptism, and calculated only to create division among Christians when absolute unity between them is called for.

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V. CHRISTIANITY AND NOBILITY

I

Cartagena’s views as presented thus far appear to form a solid front, strong enough to resist the Toledans’ assaults. It is difficult to see in this front a weak spot at which an attack could be successfully launched. Cartagena, it seems, has secured all positions and fortified all vulnerable points. Had he now brought his Defense to its conclusion, it would appear entirely understand¬ able. Yet precisely at this moment of assured victory, Cartagena abandons his impregnable position, opens another line of argument, and proceeds to attack the Toledans from another standpoint, which seems opposed to the first. The reader’s attention is now drawn to the subject of nobility in Christen¬ dom and its standing vis-a-vis the other groups. Judging by Cartagena’s argument so far, nobility and Christianity seem mutually exclusive—that is, if nobility is defined as a class distinguished by its superior blood. For if it is assumed, as Cartagena maintained, that Christendom is a melting pot of all nations from which one new nation must emerge, how can a separate class of nobility arise or survive in this intermixture? If the big “rivers” flowing into Christendom—i.e., the big peoples which are to be amalgamated—are going to lose, as we have been assured, their distinctiveness and separate existence, how can the far smaller currents of “nobility” retain their identity within the vast sea? As for the desirability of such a development, it too, if we follow Cartagena, appears to go against the grain of Christianity. For how can a birthright of carnal nature be of any value whatever when men are to be spiritually regenerated and when this regeneration obliterates, in essence, any carnal division? And yet, despite his repeated affirmation that Christian¬ ity is heading toward the abolition of all birthrights, all carnal distinctions and ethnic differences, Cartagena voices unequivocal support for class dif¬ ferentiation based on hereditary rights. Here we see again the kind of dichotomy we have noticed in his thinking on the race question—that is, when he emphasized the unity of man’s origin, on the one hand, and the superiority of the Jewish nation, on the other. That dichotomy, as we noted, was founded theoretically on a combination of the Jewish idea of Election and the Christian idea of a universal Church. But what lay at the root of the present contradiction may have been the conflict between two opposite tendencies—the cosmopolitan and the nationalist— which were doubtless present in Cartagena’s thinking but were never fully reconciled in his mind. Ultimately, however, the cosmopolitan tendency seemed to have gained the upper hand when he pressed vigorously for the idea of one people as a fusion of all ethnic elements. But this victory was by

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no means total. For the universalist equality from the standpoint of origin, dictated by the idea of “one people,” now appears limited by an important reservation: the recognition of class differences based on heredity. Thus, Cartagena’s social ideal should be defined somewhat differently from what it appeared to be in light of his earlier statements. For now he insists that while the Church does not recognize the superiority of anyone on the basis of national origin, it does recognize different grades of standing on the basis of social origin. Hence, while the differences of the first sort should be disregarded by all Christians, the differences of the second kind must be respected and upheld. To understand the significance of his subsequent discussion, we must consider the reasons that prompted him to open it. As we have seen, Car¬ tagena presented a view which was as coherent as it was idealistic, and it also provided an effective answer to the racial theories espoused by the Toledans. This view was in full accord with the true, pristine doctrines of Christianity and, as such, stood on firm theological ground. Yet once the theory was developed to its limits, and its implications appeared in clear light, Cartagena could see that his final conclusions, while providing a smashing answer to the Toledans, also struck at the foundations of the social order as it existed in medieval Spain. For if the Christian ideal is full unity and equality, to be achieved by the elimination of all ethnic differences, then obviously all class differences rooted in ancestry must be viewed as a defect that ought to be removed. And had Cartagena arrived at this conclusion and said nothing further on this subject, his theory would be regarded socially as revolutionary, anti-aristocratic and even anti-monarchic. Such a view, however, was far from his mind. Not only did he not wish to support it; he was actually opposed to it, as we shall see below. Hence an exposition of his thinking on this issue—that is, on the “rights” of the various classes—is a necessary corrective. The dualism of his position is, in fact, indicated already at the start of his discussion. There he says that while the Church “rejects every consideration of carnal origin,” it does not disavow respect for persons who “exceed others in virtue, in the fame of their lineage and other endowments.”143 We are struck by this apparent inconsistency between the Church’s indifference to ethnic origin and the special respect it should show to some persons because of the “fame of their lineage.” “Fame of lineage” may mean the high repute that one’s ancestors gained for exceptional achievements, but it may also refer to some hidden qualities of the stock that produced the outstanding men. Clearly, according to the first meaning, respect is due to the ancestors only, and it extends to their descendants merely as a courtesy, or as consider¬ ation for the ancestral name. According to the second meaning, however, the progeny of famous families ought to be respected also for their own worth,

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as they are presumed to be not only successors of their forbears but also their heirs in a genetic sense—that is, to retain in some measure their qualities, which they had acquired through natural inheritance. Which of these two meanings did Cartagena have in mind when he associated “fame of ancestry” with virtues and other gifts? Clearly, the second meaning is farther than the first from the view that denies any value to “origin” in Christianity’s social structure. Some light is shed on this question by Cartagena’s following statement. “Not all faithful,” he says, “who descended from the gentiles should be equally honored; for some of them were emperors, kings, princes, and dukes, and of the different ranks of the most illustrious nobility, while others came from the plebeian multitude and rural ignobleness.”144 So against the nobilitas of the ruling class there stands the ignobilitas of the lower classes (the “plebeian multitude” and the rural elements)—who in medieval society were distinguished from the nobility, first of all, by their birthright. This gives us some clue as to what Cartagena may have meant when he referred to “fame of lineage.” Another clue comes from the following statement: “Also among those who draw their origin from Israel, there is a great difference in this respect; for even during the time in which they lived in provinces which had been assigned to them by their fathers, and even though they descended from the same tribes, there was a huge difference in status between some of them and the others. For at that time, when no other people [except the Israelites] inhabited the land which they had conquered, it was unavoidable that the larger part of their multitude should be attached to the lowest works, while others became famous, as is the custom in the republics, in sacerdotal, royal and other ranks and honors.”145 Both the sacerdotal and royal families in Israel based their privileges on hereditary succession, and hence it is clear that in this instance too Cartagena was speaking of a “fame of lineage” that was inseparably associated with birthright. It is hardly necessary to point out that Cartagena injected the values of his own society into the social system of ancient Israel, and that the latter system was built upon principles which were altogether different. But it is of interest to note that, according to his view, nobility and governance are synonymous terms. Nobility, judging by his remarks on Israel, originates in an act of conquest. The conquerors, then, become the nobility of the land, and the conquered the subjugated people, to whom the rulers relegate all the “mean tasks,” which are essential, but not honorable. When no such possibility exists, as was the case with the people of Israel, the conquerors divide themselves into groups, of whom some assume the tasks of guidance and leadership, the others those which are necessary to provide for the people’s material needs. We should refrain, however, from concluding that, according to Cartagena, it is the profession that makes men “plebeians” or “nobles”;

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rather it is the constitution of the person which determines his profession, and, hence, his status. To be sure, the division into classes, he believed, was prompted by the necessities of social life, but the association of each person with his particular class was determined, in large measure, by the person’s qualities. The following passage from the Defensorium bears this out quite clearly: Nature, as they say, works in a similar manner in the various parts of the same species. For all or most individuals of a species habitually follow those things which come as a result of nature’s force. For we see that all animals follow in most matters certain things which are com¬ mon to the species, and according to the diversity of their species are inclined to diverse ways of life. And although a few of their individuals follow something peculiar, this nevertheless is generally found on rare occasions only. But let us stop talking about brute animals, and turn our words to people, to whose species we belong, for although we, too, are animals, we are most excellent animals. Among people we see many, indeed almost an infinite number of things, which all share as a result of a certain general condition (generalitas). But some families are habitu¬ ally inclined toward some things through a certain special quality, a subject which to pursue in detail would take a long time and would not serve any purpose. But this one thing I wish to say in relation to what I said before. One of the differences found amorig people is that some are considered noble, others ignoble. It is characteristic of the nobles to rise to higher pursuits, although they are difficult, and separate their actions from all mean activities. On the other hand, it is characteristic of the ignoble people to lead their lives under more tranquil and more laborious arts. Hence the fact that military exercise, which exceeds all other exercises in effort and danger, is nevertheless considered peculiar to the nobles because it is nearest to virtue, and also full of grace and courage. And although the common people sometimes use arms, and some of them brandish lances and swords both against the enemy and among them¬ selves, they do it nevertheless in a rustic manner with both feet fixed on the ground. Nor do they dare resist the armed nobility. Military training, an equestrian charge, and doing battle under the standards of the princes, with head and breast shielded, and the shinbones covered with iron mixed with steel, and with trumpets blowing, is surely an action of the nobles; the rustics and plebeians, as long as they remain plebeians, do not use this manner of fighting. They are intent therefore upon the cultivation of the fields and other occupations of rustic and urban care which, although they are worthy professions, are nevertheless not of such beauty and fortitude as is the military art. And although some of these [namely, the plebeians], driven by an impulse of courage, rise to perform acts of nobility, and fight to the finish with an armed hand, and little by little

JJ8 ]

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join the fellowship of the nobles—for nobility, like all other temporal goods can be acquired and lost—few however who are born of rural or plebeian parents attain this station, compared to the multitude that are satisfied to remain within the rustic and plebeian, or popular and also technical, and other mean practices.146 To Cartagena, then, class division in society is indicated or expressed in occupation or, more precisely, in the function that each group fulfills in the totality of the social economy; but the fulfillment of these functions is related to certain talents, capacities and dispositions, which are hereditary. To be sure, “like all temporal things, nobility may be gained or lost,” which would mean that the qualities making for nobility may be weakened or destroyed under certain circumstances, while, on the other hand, they may sprout and develop out of certain impulses, and thus appear among plebeians. This, however, happens in a small minority of cases and may be seen as the exception rather than the rule. Hence the occupations and pursuits of one’s ancestors are generally an index to one’s own qualities, as well as to the class to which one should belong. We must, however, note one more point to define Cartagena’s view cor¬ rectly. What he considers natural qualities that make for social distinctions and divisions is not limited to one’s talents and abilities to assume certain professions; they include also one’s moral inclinations and capacity to live by moral standards. Thus, he considers the four cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance—to be based primarily on natural disposi¬ tions, or at least greatly assisted by the latter. In fact, he considers the part of man’s nature in the possession of these and similar inclinations to be so great—and indeed so decisive—that he defines the nobility marked by their presence not only as “moral” but also as “natural.”147 Thus he seems to come close to the view that man’s moral qualities are inheritable, which was the view held by the Toledans. Nevertheless, the differences between his view and theirs outweigh the similarities between them. For according to Car¬ tagena, what are inheritable are not the virtues—which are each man’s achievement—but the dispositions toward the virtues, and these dispositions are not stable assets; they can be bent by man’s will one way or the other; they can be refined by training or deteriorate by habit; and they can all become subject to the influence of temptations or, contrarily, to that of faith. It follows that, in the final analysis, morally each man is his own master. Nevertheless, since the inclinations toward virtues may be helpful in their attainment, we may class men by their moral dispositions, which are not evenly distributed among them. In brief, the variety of the inclinations toward the virtues, no less than the variety of men’s talents and abilities, can help place men on different social levels and in different grades of the social hierarchy.

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That this was indeed Cartagena’s view becomes further evident from the similarity he sees between the society sanctioned by the Church and the members of a living organism. In the society of the Church, which is a “body of Christ,” all the members, he maintains, are expected to respect, love and support each other unsparingly; but it is inevitable that some of them be honored more because the functions they fulfill bear testimony to their excel¬ lence. For “just as the eye cannot say to the foot: ‘do not be a member,’ although, if we consider the function of the eye, it is more excellent, more delicate and more honorable, so it is also in the ecclesiastical body, in which the faithful members have different functions, some of which may be similar to the eye, others to the tongue, still others to the arms or the feet, etc., and thus one may have, by virtue of the fact that he fulfills a more excellent function, or possesses a more famous nobility, or whatever other particular eminence, more honor than the other. Nevertheless, every faithful [Chris¬ tian], whencever he may come, is a full and qualified member [of the society] who is fittingly placed in his proper station under the guidance of the Church.”148 The view that each member of the social body should fulfill the function to which he fits best, and that accordingly he should belong to the “class” of his peers, is of course Platonic in origin.149 Yet in building his theory on the basic division between the two classes of men—the “noble” and the “igno¬ ble”—Cartagena was following an Aristotelian rather than a Platonic princi¬ ple. Thus, pointing to Aristotle as his authority, he says that “those who are inferior in their power of judgment should be governed by those who are wiser; and since they are ruled by the government of others, it is said that, in a certain manner, they are slaves.”150 To be sure, Don Alonso, it must be added, did not share Aristotle’s justification of slavery—that is, slavery in the full sense of the word—since, as a student of the Roman jurists, he accepted their thesis that “all men are born free” and that slavery is of “social,” not “natural,” origin.151 But as for the distinction between the two types of men with respect to their capacity to govern, he adopted that distinction, with the important addition that men also differ in their inclinations toward virtue, and that this is what lies at the root of the difference between “nobles” and “plebeians.” It is obvious that in Don Alonso’s view, this difference is often transmitted by heredity, which forms the basis for noble families, and more generally for the noble class. Thus we see in Don Alonso’s theory the meeting of two diverse social theories—that of the Church Fathers and that of Aristotle, the one based on a religious ideal, the other on nature and its concrete manifestations; the one obviating all principal distinctions (“neither Greek nor Jew, neither bond nor free, neither male nor female”), the other admitting these distinctions, and considering their recognition, or even their promotion, as conducive to the good of society. One difference, however, the

560 1

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ethnic division, was singled out as superfluous and harmful, and therefore destined to be ignored. But Cartagena’s position differs from Plato’s in another important respect as well. We have noted that the “classification” of each person, according to Cartagena, must be made “under the guidance of the Church,” whose “wis¬ dom” replaces, in Cartagena’s concept, that of Plato’s philosopher-king. Actually, however, this “guidance of the Church” was hardly viewed by him as a decisive factor. For more important in his eyes was, obviously, one’s hereditary or actual class association, so much so that Cartagena felt it possible to state as a fact and a moral postulate: “The higher, more famous and more noble people [among those who come into the faith] retain in the Church their full preeminence and undiminished reverence for their persons and families.”1S2 Thus, class divisions are transferred into Christendom from the non-Christian world fully and automatically, with the “guidance” of the Church expressed in nothing but its preassured consent.153 Can the determination of a non-Christian group—whether pagan, Mos¬ lem or Jewish—with regard to one’s position in society be binding upon the Church? We may take it for granted that Cartagena assumed that aptitudes and endowments—which determine one’s vocation, and consequently also one’s social class—are acquired by inheritance in the non-Christian world as they are in the Christian.1S4Just the same, one may ask, does not Christianity have its own evaluation of the various aptitudes and virtues, consistent with its different ideal of life? Cartagena does not ask this fundamental question, whose answer might conflict with his advocacy to accept the old social divisions—that is, as they existed in the non-Christian world. He simply proceeds to justify their acceptance on the basis of the facts as he knew them—that is, on the basis of Church practice and traditions, which, from the standpoint of Christian theology, were as valid and binding as any sacred doctrine.155 This reliance on the traditional stand of the Church with respect to the prevalent social structure was absolutely necessary for Cartagena, since theoretically, of course, he could not reconcile the two conflicting principles he espoused. The utopian world of amity and equality, toward which Chris¬ tianity was heading, as he assured us, was poles apart from the world of feudal Europe in which inequality reigned supreme. In this latter world, class consciousness was rife, and the division of society into hereditary groupings was a fact of life, which nobody questioned and which dominated both politics and economy. In presenting this class-oriented society as fully ac¬ ceptable to the Church, however, Cartagena did not justify the established order merely for its own sake. He did so also because some of the issues involved were closely related to the problem at hand—the one raised by the

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Sentencia-Estatuto—and because the absence of racial discrimination, as he saw it, was insufficient by itself to solve that problem in a satisfactory manner.

II

In view of the above, the first question to determine was whether converts ofjewish origin had the right to join the Old Christian aristocracy. Cartagena begins his examination of this question by pointing to the fact mentioned above—namely, that pagan nobles who. came over to Christianity retained their former status in Christendom. The Roman emperor Constantine, the Frankish king Chlodwig, the Gothic monarch Alaric are only a few illustra¬ tions of this well-known fact. Furthermore, they indicate that the pagan princes who were converted to Christianity in past ages “not only retained their badges of honor and the nobility of their origin” but were made in fact, following their conversion, more illustrious and prestigious.156 A similar example from his own time Cartagena sees in the case ofjagiello, Duke of Lithuania, who was converted to Catholicism and became king of Poland.157 So numerous indeed, he adds, were the Christian nobles who had been originally pagan—i.e., gentile—that in many languages, such as French and Spanish, gentilehood became synonymous with nobility.158 Now, if nobility attained in a pre-Christian status is upheld and respected also in Christendom when its bearers adopt the Christian faith, why should nobility attained among the Jews be less respected when they become Chris¬ tian? Framed in such hypothetical terms, the question could be answered only positively. Yet Cartagena realized that objections could be raised, if not to the hypothesis itself, then to its practical applicability. For if, as we have seen, the status of nobility is related to control and government, the condition of the Jews with respect to nobility greatly differs from that of the pagans. Indeed, while the pagan nobles who converted to Christianity had been in possession of real power, the Jews, in their long period of exile, commanded no power at all. It is the fact of holding power in one degree or another that testifies to the capacity to hold it, and to one’s belonging to the class of nobles that people are duty-bound to respect. In the case of the Jews, however, no such evidence was apparent, and therefore it would seem virtually impossible to associate their converts with the Christian aristocracy. How to substantiate, in the face of these objections, the right of the conversos to join the noble classes? Obviously, the first thing to do was to examine the premises of the above objections. That meant to determine, first of all, whether the Jews possessed a noble class in the past; whether there is any evidence of its existence in the present; and whether privileges which were lost, or lost their effectiveness, in a pre-Christian condition could be

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restored to a person, a family or a class under the government of the Church. The first question was not at all superfluous, as Cartagena realized too well. There is no hard evidence that the Jews at any time, including their periods of complete independence, had possessed a class of hereditary nobil¬ ity of the kind that existed in medieval Europe. Nevertheless, groups of privileged families whose members controlled wealth and power doubtless existed in the kingdoms of Israel, as they did in all other ancient states. One may gather this from the biblical references to the sarim, seganim and Ijorim, even though, it seems, no common term was used to indicate the existence of a noble class. Probably unaware of the latter fact, Cartagena mentions the several cases where the word “nobles” is mentioned in the Bible—that is, in the Latin translation of the Vulgate.159 Yet his conclusions, one should point out, were not based on such evidence alone. In accordance with the view of the medieval jurists, Cartagena distin¬ guished three kinds of nobility: the theological, the natural, and the civil.160 Theological nobility rests on divine acceptance, and is expressed in excel¬ lence of thought and action that relate to divine worship and religious meditation; natural nobility may be called moral, as it relates to the basic virtues, such as prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance; whereas civil nobility inclines men to government and the military profession. It is closely related to moral or natural nobility, even though not in the same measure, since one cannot govern or fight properly without possessing the virtues indicated above. Now who can doubt that thejews in ancient times possessed all three kinds of nobility? They had theological nobility of the highest order, as testified by the patriarchs and the prophets; they had moral nobility, which was abundantly displayed in many deeds of virtue by many individuals; and they had civil nobility, which was clearly manifested in the kings and their whole governing class.161 Actually, says Cartagena, civil nobility existed in Israel from the most ancient times, long before the period of the kings. It dates back to the days of Moses, who took “the chiefs of the tribes” and made them “heads over the people,” “captains of thousands,” etc. Of them it is said that they were “the most noble of the leaders of the people, according to their tribes and families, and the heads of the armies of Israel.”162 Thus, the nobility was engaged not only in the task of civil government, but also in military service, “with which civil nobility is usually associated.” Moreover, as far as this service is concerned, thejews have a long record of distinction. This is evident not only from the sacred canon, but also from the master of Scholastic History'63 and from the accounts of the historian Josephus who, both in his Antiquities and the Wars of the Jews, tells of many acts of unusual valor that were performed by the Israelites.164 In fact, even the destruction ofjerusalem by the Romans bears sufficient testimony to that; for the conquest of no other city save Troy was

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preceded by such a great struggle and by so much shedding of blood.165 Evidence of the military standing of the Jews can be adduced also directly from the Romans, the founders of the greatest empire on earth. For in the alliance they made with Judas Maccabaeus, they treated the Jews as equal partners, and no such alliance would have been concluded unless the Romans had reason to respect the Jews as a military factor.166 In brief, “where there is the highest form of kingship, there inheres the highest form of nobility,”167 and this is indeed what we find in Israel. There¬ fore, “many Israelites, prior to their infidelity [i.e., prior to their denial of Christ], were distinguished by the “triple nobility,” which in many of them appeared together.168 Samuel was both prophet and ruler; David was king and prophet; and so was Solomon, his son, and many others. “I do not mean to say,” concludes Cartagena, “that all the members of that people were nobles. There has not been, nor is there a nation that consists only of noblemen.” It suffices to say that, “as in other nations, some individuals within the Jewish people were illumined by the splendor of nobility.”169

Ill

The historical evidence adduced by Cartagena to prove the existence of nobility among the Jews in the past was not intended to illustrate a point of mere academic interest. The evidence was offered to lay the basis for a conclusion that had a bearing on the conversos’ eligibility to the higher classes of the Spanish society. By demonstrating that for much of their past the Jews possessed nobility in all its forms to the fullest and highest degree, he established the possibility, if not the probability, that they possessed it in his own time as well. The question now was what happened to those apti¬ tudes in the long period of exile and oppression that the Jews experienced since they lost their independence. It has often been said that as a result of their sin—i.e., their outright rejection of Christ—the state of freedom the Jews had enjoyed was ex¬ changed for that of servitude. Fundamentally, Cartagena avers, this is true; but one has to understand more clearly, he adds, what kind of servitude affects the Jews. For parallel to the three types of nobility, there are three types of servitude, and they may be designated by the same names: natural, civil, and theological. Natural servitude indicates the condition in which a person displays a low power of judgment—so low indeed that he should be governed by others.170 The second kind of servitude—which Cartagena calls civil—emanates from human law. This is the condition of virtual slavery, which the victor imposes upon the vanquished and which some philosophers call “legal” because it was sanctioned by the iusgentium. Divine law, however, does not recognize such a servitude and nature does not know it either, for

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as the Roman jurist Ulpian said, according to nature, “all men are born free.”xlx Cartagena avoids further discussion of the subject, and merely points out that “he who is subject to this kind of slavery cannot appear in Court to enter a judicial dispute with his master or anyone else, nor can he be the possessor of any property. He is of no account.”172 The third kind of servitude—the theological—is the servitude of sin. Says Scripture: “He who commits a sin is a slave of sin,”173 and such, indeed, are all men, except those who liberated themselves from sin (that is, by adopting the faith of Christ). What distinguishes this type of slavery from the others is that liberation from it depends on the sinner’s own will. Therefore theolog¬ ical slavery, which is the worst kind of servitude, is also the easiest to get rid of. “Once the slave wishes with his whole heart to be freed from his subjuga¬ tion to sin, divine mercy immediately affords him liberty by means of the sacraments.”174 If the Jews are enslaved, as is often said, what kind of slavery are they subject to? Surely they are not under natural servitude, for that stems from dullness of understanding; and “it is clear that not all of the infidels,” whether Jews or non-Jews, even though they persist in their obscurancy, “are so stupid as to deserve subjection to others because of such a deficiency.” In this respect the Jews, fundamentally, do not differ from other groups of men, for “no race or family can be found to exist, all of whose members possess a strong intelligence or, contrarily, an extremely feeble one.”17S Nor are the Jews in the category of civil slavery, for the main symptoms of this slavery are not evident among them. Accordingly, when the Apostle denounced them as “slaves,” he could not refer to civil servitude, for the Jews then abounded in temporal possessions, and even Jerusalem was not yet destroyed. In fact, they have not been bereft of such possessions to this day in various parts of the world. “Also the Jews who live in our country [Castile], in full accordance with the quality of their status, possess temporal goods and have court litigations not only with common individuals, but also with the princes themselves.” For “they sometimes conclude business agreements with the princes, and when disputes arise over the execution of these agreements, either they [thejews] take legal action against the fiscal representatives of the princes or are subject to such action taken against them. All of this is contrary to civil servitude, for ‘no man,’ as the jurists say, ‘can have action-at-law against a person whom he has in his potestas.’ ”176 If one therefore refers to Jewish servitude, one can speak only of the theological kind, and it is really this servitude that the Apostle had in mind when he compared thejews to the sons of Hagar. For Hagar, the bondmaid, symbolizes the Synagogue and the legal ceremonies to which the Jews remained bound, just as Sarah, the free consort, symbolizes the Church and its adherents who were given the law of grace.177 Now, the failure of thejews

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to accept the latter law forced them to remain under the rule of sin; for it prevented them from being reborn as free men as all those who came to Christ were. But from this condition, into which they entered freely—that is, by their own free choice—they can be redeemed by another act of will in the opposite direction. For as soon as the Jew liberates himself from the shackles of the Old Law and is reborn in Christian freedom, the theological slavery, in which he finds himself, is entirely abolished. Can then such a Jew, when he joins the Church, also join any of the various classes that make up Christian society? Judging by what was said before, it is clear that the possible obstacle of slavery does not apply in the case of the Jews. Since they were not subject to natural or civil slavery, it is clear that converted Jews enter Christendom as completely free men. Yet freedom in itself is only a prerequisite, not a qualification for them to join any class, and particularly that of the nobles. To determine this, a clear answer must be given to the second of the three questions posed above—namely, is there evidence for the existence of nobil¬ ity among the Jews at the present time? More precisely, we should know whether any of the nobilities, in which the Jews once excelled, survived the ordeals of exile and dispersion and are still evident among them. If so, this evidence could provide some guidelines for “classing” their various converts in Christendom. It would appear reasonable that, in discussing this subject, Cartagena should have first pointed out the fact that, despite all their wanderings and changes of fortune, the Jews strictly guarded all the lines of succession stemming from the tribe of Levi and the priesthood. As the single privileged class among the Jews whose prerogatives were recognized by law, the Priests and Levites formed, in a way, the only hereditary aristocracy among the Jews that was of a spiritual-religious nature. Paul of Burgos, who emphasized this fact, wanted to use it as a basis for his claim that members of this Jewish nobility could join the ecclesiastical leadership of the Church. Yet Cartagena seems to have ignored this claim, and for very obvious reasons. For although the Priests and Levites belonged, as he saw it, to the theolog¬ ical nobility, that nobility disappeared among the Jews with the failure of its members to recognize Christ. As a result, the offspring of the Priests and Levites, though still recognized among the Jews, are, from the standpoint of theological nobility, an empty shell, a body without spirit. Yet this in itself does not present a problem for the Jews who were converted to Christianity. For theological nobility did not exist in any measure among the gentile nations either—and for the same reason: their infidelity. Consequently, in this respect, the Jews who join Christendom are on the same footing as the converts from the gentiles. Nor do they differ from the latter in their oppor¬ tunity to join and rise in the ecclesiastical hierarchy; for the appointments to

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positions in this hierarchy do not relate in any way to a hereditary class, as was the case in Judaea. To be sure, when the pope ordains deacons, he designates them as Levites, but by this he means to indicate their belonging to the tribe of Levi, not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. “For the priesthood had been changed, so that it be offered . . . not to some family in particular” but to everyone of the faithful who may deserve it, “according to the rules of the church, with every difference of blood set far aside.”178 It is clear, therefore, that insofar as this nobility is concerned, there is no basis to look for its presence among the Jews who remained in their Jewishness. We may only inquire whether the other kinds of nobility still inhere among them.

IV

According to Cartagena, certain social phenomena prevalent among the Jews of Spain and other countries provide a definite answer to this question. If one observes the structure ofjewish society, its internal relationships and its leading personalities, one can discover signs of nobility in the various walks ofjewish life. To be sure, the total loss of their theological nobility, which they suffered as a result of their infidelity, did not come about without grievously affecting the Jews’ natural and civil nobilities.179 Yet vestiges of both survived sufficiently for their owners to be identified as nobles. As for natural nobility, which consists, as we have noted, of a high measure of wisdom and morality, it is evident that some of the Jews in the dispersion have retained a certain keenness of intellect which, because it does not tend toward a proper end, cannot be called real wisdom (prudentia); nevertheless, it has a certain semblance of prudence.180 And insofar as moral virtues are concerned, although the Jews do not have them in their pure essence—since they lack the virtue of true prudence, as well as the theological virtues— nevertheless, some of them seem to have performed deeds not devoid of moral value, and even such as give one the aptitude of ruling, which is especially ascribed to natural nobility. This has been demonstrated by the fact that some of them, having attached themselves to the rulers, instruct them very often in matters of government (agibilibus), from which it follows that they retain certain vestiges of natural nobility.181 As for civil nobility among them, some remnants of it, too, are noticeable, even though they are overshadowed by a heavy mist. “For among them¬ selves, some are reputed as plebeians, some as noble people, and also among those whom they consider noble, some are regarded as more noble than others, to the point that they guard this difference most diligently in their matrimonies and honors, so that the nobles among them will consider it unworthy to receive the hand of a craftsman’s daughter, or to enter marriage

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with a plebeian, unless forced by extreme necessity.”182 This, adds Cartagena, is especially so in Spain, to which country, they say, came many of the noble Israelites after the destruction of Jerusalem in ancient times.183 There is then one sure way to determine which Jews stem from the old nobility. “Your royal Majesty, if he wishes, will be able to discern them by such eminences and reverences as they themselves, or their predecessors, under a thin semblance of nobility, observed toward each other.”184 Yet Cartagena stresses that by this yardstick alone—namely, the homage paid by Jews to some of their families—not all the instances of nobility among the Jews may be discerned. For under the harsh conditions of oppression in which the Jews had lived so long, many noble individuals were forced into the lower classes, and the signs of their nobility have been obscured or suppressed. It is only when the freedom of such individuals is restored upon their acceptance of Christianity that their basic tendencies can reappear and their noble traits be again revealed. Therefore, to “class” their converts to the faith, the converts themselves, even more than thejews, have to be taken into consideration. In other words, from the occupations they engage in and the abilities they display (in the Christian society), one may gather to which kind of nobility their ancestors had belonged and which kind of nobility may be restored to them in their new condition. In support of this position—which alone, as he saw it, could justify the rise of Marranos from the lower to the upper classes—Cartagena devotes a special discourse to prove that the traits of nobility revealed among the conversos must be taken as indications—indeed, as proof—that many of them belong to the noble class.

v As we have seen, Cartagena believed that one’s dominant disposition to certain pursuits is the factor that generally determines one’s class; and this is what experience also tells us of the social divisions. For ordinarily, nobles are born to nobles, peasants to peasants, and plebeian citizens to plebeians. But what do we see among the converted Israelites? Unlike the rustic ele¬ ments among the gentiles, of whom relatively few follow the military profes¬ sion, among the faithful Israelites a disproportionately large number willingly undertake the exercise of arms and participate in the militias.185 Moreover, they display competence and courage in warlike acts, which is as unique as was their well-known cowardice in their preconversion state. To be sure, people can exchange one or more of their vices for the contrasting virtues, but the process is usually difficult and slow, and it is most difficult where courage is concerned. Thus, people can abstain from excessive eating or illicit sexual intercourse, and they may even come to like this way of life,

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but they can achieve this only through a great effort exerted over a period of time. But what should be noted is that no danger is involved in the adoption of such virtues as abstinence or chastity; they require only the exercise of the will.186 But this is not at all the case with courage. There is no time to get used to being bold in the midst of warlike actions, and “a sudden attack,” as Jerome said, “frightens even the bravest of soldiers.”187 The need to make a decision is immediate, since there is no time for deliberation, and the decision to act with courage “involves a great danger which ordinary people shun.” In brief, it is most difficult to acquire fortitude in battle unless one is assisted in this by a natural disposition. Hence, since so many of the “faithful Israelites” (that is, Jewish converts to Christianity) rise to the service of the armed militia, we must presume that nobility, which in ancient times distinguished so many of their forefathers, lay hidden and enclosed in their hearts. Therefore, if they join the nobility, one should not see in this an acquisition on their part of a new quality or status, but rather the return to a social condition which was originally theirs.188 The second question, then, as to whether there exist signs of nobility among the “faithful” Jews has thus been fully answered. There remains only the question of the propriety of revalidating privileges they lost in the pre-Christian state. Cartagena gives this question, too, a positive and un¬ equivocal answer. The answer is offered by the example of postliminium, by means of which, according to Roman law, a person taken captive by the enemy in war is fully restored to his original status once he returns to his native country. So, says Cartagena, if according to human law, one who returns from the captivity of an enemy is treated as if he had never been captured—and therefore is restored to his original freedom, and also to all his former privileges—how much more must such a restoration be secured by a postliminium in accordance with divine law to the captives of the ancient enemy who managed to return to the society of God?189 And just as no span of time, however long, can deny a person his right of postliminium, so no length of time can cancel that right—or even diminish it to any extent—for those who return after many generations from the captivity of sin to the land of faith. Those Israelites who come to Christianity today, therefore, are entitled to have all their rights restored as if they joined the faith near the time of the Passion, together with Paul and the other apostles, and to be received with all their dignities and prerogatives to the most perfect union.190 One may of course ask whether postliminium applies to the offspring of prisoners. But this question, too, can be answered positively on the basis of Roman law. Restitution of birthright is granted even to one who was born a slave; it bestows upon him, in abundant liberality, uthepurest and most innate freedom of primal natural law, under which the misfortune of captivity and slavery had not yet been found.”191 Moreover, according to Roman law, the

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emperor can restore a person to his birthright—i.e., to his freedom—even if he had lost that status by committing some crime.192 How much more can this be done by the greatest of all emperors and the king of kings? The emperor can say: I restore you to your honor, your order, and all the rest [of your original conditions].193 Surely, this can be effected by Christianity, whose whole essence lies in forgiveness, redemption, and the restoration of man to his primal state.194 In brief, the postliminium of God restores the original rights most fully to those released from the bondage of evil, and as soon as they enter the Christian empire, once its doors are opened by baptism, they are regarded as if they had never been under any hostile power.

VI. HOW CAN TOLEDO BE RESTORED?

I

This completes Cartagena’s argument on behalf of class division in Chris¬ tendom and the right of the conversos to join the aristocracy. All that remained for him to do to conclude his treatise was to make some supple¬ mentary remarks on several points at issue. Compared with the main thesis he unfolded, these remarks were possibly judged by Cartagena as merely of secondary value. Viewed from our own vantage-point, however, they are of major importance. For they touch on questions that, considered historically, should be uppermost in our minds. These are: (a) the attitude toward Christianity (and hence, toward Judaism) of the Marrano group taken as a whole; (b) the causes of the anti-marrano movement and the ultimate purpose of its violent campaign; and (c) the measures the Marranos considered necessary to suppress that movement and restore normality. Thus, these added remarks of Cartagena help us under¬ stand his total view of the converso situation at the time. To clarify the trend of our forthcoming discussion we must note that Cartagena made some of these remarks via his refutation of the legal objec¬ tions raised by the Toledans to Marrano “equality” in Spain—or, rather, of the legal evidence they adduced in support of the Sentencia-Estatuto. We shall therefore have to touch also on this refutation, which is of interest in itself; it embodies original, pointed criticisms of the Toledans’ judicial position. Cartagena’s rebuttal was centered on the objections that were based on the laws of the Toledan Councils, and especially on that of the Fourth Toledan Council, which stipulated that “those who are of Jews (ex Iudeis)" were prohib¬ ited from holding public office. While examining these laws and determin¬ ing their meaning, Cartagena consulted the glosses on the Decretum, as had

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been done by Juan de Torquemada and the Relator. Medieval jurists usu¬ ally turned to these glosses when encountering some difficulty in Church law; and it is obvious that, to the converso jurists, the law on “hi qui ex ludeis sunf offered an especially hard nut to crack. We can see this also from their various approaches and various sources of reference. While the Relator relied mainly on Guido de Baysio, and Torquemada leaned chiefly on Hugucius, Cartagena was assisted primarily by Teutonicus. Yet as we shall see, his own position differed considerably from the latter’s. Teutonicus believed that the law which denied public office to ex ludeis could not possibly refer to all converts from Judaism, let alone to their offspring who descended “from Jews.” Hence, he concluded, it referred to “followers” of Jews, or to Jews who were converted to the faith recently (de novo). Cartagena accepted the first interpretation as a possibly correct under¬ standing of “ex ludeis,” but was dissatisfied with the second. The New Christians were often defined by their antagonists as those who were “re¬ cently converted,” and if such converts were denied by canon law the right to hold public office in Christendom, the Toledans would have all the backing they needed and might consider their case won. Teutonicus’s conjec¬ ture, therefore, appeared to Cartagena too dangerous to ignore. To defuse it, he points out that it is necessary to understand what may be meant by “recently.” The meaning is indicated, according to Cartagena, in the famous prohibi¬ tion to appoint neophytes as bishops—a prohibition which Gratian included in canon law following the New Testament195 and the Nicaean Council.196 His reasoning is that offered by Jerome: “so that he who was yesterday (heri) a catechumen may not become today a bishop; who was yesterday (heri) in the theater may not sit today in the Church; who was yesterevening (vespere) in the circus may not minister today at the altar.”197 What was meant here by heri and vespere is of course not literally “yesterday” or “yesterevening”; what was meant is simply a very short time. But how short? The answer is indicated in another statement which Gratian includes in the same passage. He says: “A momentaneous priest—namely, one who became a priest a moment after his conversion—does not generally know what humility is.”198 Here, too, the term used for time (i.e., a moment) does not have to be taken in its literal sense; what it implies is a very short period, which, like the terms yesterday and yestereve, cannot possibly refer to a decade or two, or even to a year or two or the like. What it indicates are obviously shorter periods, limited only to months or weeks, even though the exact span required must be left in each case to the “judgment of good men.”199 But what should be further noted is that all this relates to Church positions. It does not relate to secular positions, concerning which no delay in appointment has ever been suggested on grounds of “newness” in Christianity.

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It is clear, then, that by this definition of “recency” and those it applies to according to Church law, Cartagena disqualified Teutonicus’ second expla¬ nation of the term ex Iudeis in the conciliar decree. For the sixty-fifth decision of the Fourth Toledan Council does not speak of ecclesiastical appointments in particular, but of public offices (officia publica) in general, with no specifi¬ cation of kind and degree. Above all, on the basis of the meaning of “new¬ ness” in apostolic and canonic writings, he showed that the law, if related to “New” Christians, could in no way apply to the Spanish conversos who, by any definition, are much “older” in the Church than such terminology might imply. The division of the Christians in Spain into the two camps of Old and New—a division which he dismissed as absurd—is now again revealed for what it is. Since no one becomes Christian before his baptism,200 the conver¬ sos are neither “newer” nor “older” than any of the other Christians, and hence cannot be subject to special legislation. Ex Iudeis must therefore mean followers of Judaism, perhaps also “familiars” of the Jews, but not converts to Christianity from Judaism. If, however, one wishes to insist that ex Iudeis means converts from Judaism, one must read the decree not as universal— that is, valid for all places and all times—but as one which applied to a particular place and a particular time only—namely, to Spain of the seventh century. This was a period in which very many—in fact, almost all—Jews who received baptism were actually followers of Judaism, and the law, therefore, may have been considered fitting for those times, for that special situation and that special group of converts (ex Iudeis)20U, but if so, it was not really a law, but a ruling to meet a certain emergency. Perhaps this is why this decree is presented as one that was commanded by the king and adopted by the council only at his order. It should be pointed out, says Cartagena, that of all the numerous decisions taken in all the thirteen Toledan councils, this is the only decree which is indicated as issued at the king’s command.202

II

This interpretation of the sixty-fifth decision as a ruling directed against relapsed Jewish converts indicates quite clearly that Cartagena saw no re¬ semblance between the situation in Spain in the 7th century and that of his own time. For all his arguments were so designed as to meet the possible objections of the Old Christians to his claim that the Sentencia-Estatuto was unjustified. Had he believed that the number ofjudaizers among the Marranos was large enough to justify special measures against the group, his last interpretation of the sixty-fifth decision would have supplied the Toledans with the legal precedent they were seeking in support of their action. Car¬ tagena, however, must have believed that his argument provided no such precedent, because he was sure that the New Christians of his time bore no

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resemblance to the converts of the 7th century—or, more precisely, that they were too Christianized to possibly fit into the latter’s category. But if the conversos were good Christians, two questions must still be answered: Why were severe charges to the contrary made so boisterously by their critics? And what is the reason for the burning hatred which the latter display for them without letup? Cartagena’s answer to these questions con¬ sists of several parts. It offers the reasons for both the hatred and the conduct of the Marranos’ opponents. As far as the hatred of the Marranos is concerned, Cartagena ascribes it to a single motive: jealousy of the social and material successes attained by the conversos. No religious zeal, intention, or interest is ever suggested by him as motivating the Marrano haters, and this falls in with his repeated statement that the attacks on the conversos are directed against people who live a “clean” Christian life. The attempt to find fault with the Christianity of these people resembles that of Satan, who sought to find flaws in Job’s devotion to God. Indeed, the very comparison of the Marranos to Job is further proof that Cartagena considered them innocent of the religious crimes with which they were charged. Like Job, who was accused of having served God not because he truly believed in Him, but because of the blessings God bestowed upon him, the Marranos are accused of being Christian, not because they believe in Chris¬ tianity, but because of the benefits they derive from it. Yet these accusations are based not on fact, but on the accusers’ pretense of knowing what is in the conversos’ hearts. Obviously, these words of Cartagena imply that no outside evidence was available to support the anti-converso charges; on the contrary, the evidence available, he was sure, indicates the opposite—namely, that the Marranos are good Christians, just as in the case of Job it indicated that he was an upright man. And these indications of human behavior are the only signs by which men can go—and hence, by which they are permitted to go. Of course, evil minds can raise and spread suspicions to the point where they may become believable, but if their assertions lack a factual basis, they must be rejected as libels and falsehoods. The purpose of such assertions is not to reveal some hidden truth, but to vilify and besmirch the object of the jealousy; to ruin his good name (the basis of all honor), which is one of the things that most violently stir the feeling of jealousy in the souls of men.203 The Marranos, then, are faced with a campaign of lies, aimed at ruining the position of honor they attained in Christian society. This, however, is only the first manifestation of diabolic envy. For what did Satan say to God next? “Extend a little your hand—he said—and touch all that he possesses, [and see] if he will not curse you to your face.”204 You already see, adds Cartagena, the manner of ascent of this detestable jealousy. It proceeds from the denigration of the reputation to the destruction of the possessions.

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This is precisely what some of the people who have been following in Satan’s footsteps have been doing in Toledo. “After having besmirched the reputa¬ tion of their adversaries, they arranged for the seizure of their possessions under false excuses. They derive pleasure from the spoliation of their neigh¬ bors, even if they themselves do not partake in the booty. Some of them, however, add avarice to envy, exceeding in this even Satan himself, who, although he is envious of human happiness, does not grab for himself tempo¬ ral goods.”205 What Cartagena is here referring to are of course the robberies and expropriations of Marrano possessions perpetrated in Toledo under Sarmiento’s guidance. These actions, too, had no justification, and no other cause but jealousy and greed. Yet “the diabolic envy does not quiet down even with these excesses. It proceeds with the most ardent hate to the rending of the victim’s bodies.”206 This is why Satan smote Job with the death of his children, and this is why he wanted to kill Job himself. “Skin for skin and everything man has he will give for his soul,” says the inciter to the Lord, who insisted on Job’s innocence.207 It was the warning God gave Satan not to dare take Job’s life that prevented Satan from carrying out his wish; and in consequence, instead of killing Job, Satan smote him with the most horri¬ ble affliction. Yet these are the symptoms, and this is the process, of diabolic envy: first it seeks to destroy the reputation of the victim, then to take away his possessions, and finally to kill him. And all of these symptoms were manifest in the activities of Garda’s followers. This argument of Cartagena clearly shows his view of (a) the moral position of the conversos and (b) the motives of the opposition. As he saw it, then, the conversos were blameless—that is, innocent of the crimes imputed to them, which means that they were religiously sincere; the campaign against them was rooted in motives which were antithetical to that sincerity; it was nothing but evil opposing good and seeking its complete destruction. That was the whole story, according to Cartagena. And just as he defined the objective of the campaign, he identified its chief inspirer and architect. This was Marcos Garcia, from whose morbid soul, sickened by ambition, frustra¬ tion and failure, gushed forth the torrent of fiendish hatred that was now threatening to engulf the land.

Ill

Thus, the task Cartagena set himself in exposing the nullity of the Tole¬ dans’ race theory, as well as the motives of their false charges, came to its assigned end. All the legal, doctrinal, and philosophical aspects pertaining to the rights of the conversos in Christendom had been duly clarified and related to the case he so carefully prepared against the Toledan rebels.

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Theoretically, the case was now complete. But practically, something re¬ mained to be done. If on the basis of his presentation public opinion were to condemn the culprits, as Cartagena undoubtedly hoped, there still remained the important question of what punishment he should ask for the criminals. The answer, Cartagena sensed clearly, lay beyond the scope of legal justice. What he sought was a political remedy to the problem posed by the Toledan campaign. In proposing this remedy, Cartagena bore in mind that the problem had two major aspects, ecclesiastical and secular—or, better, consisted of two separate problems which, though combined in the rebels’ actions, had to be viewed and treated independently. For what was involved here was a reli¬ gious heresy and a civil rebellion promoted by the same people at the same time. Cartagena addresses the heretical issue first. He warns Garda, the teacher of the new “dogma”—i.e., the dogma of race with respect to the New Christians—that unless he abandons his evil path and his stubborn clinging to the errors he propagates, he will incur the sin of heresy. He cautions him not to delude himself with the assumption that he may avoid being stamped as a heretic merely because what he preaches appears to him not explicitly contradictory to the articles of the faith. “Even civil law says that the term ‘heretic’ refers to anyone who was found to be deviating even by a slight argument from the Catholic religion.” And is it not clear that Marcos Garda deviated from this religion not slightly, but to a very large extent? John XXII declared it fitting—and in agreement with Church law—that those who were regenerated by the font of baptism, having dismissed the Judaic blindness, should abound in favors and graces, and that all the officials of the lands of the Church should defend them from harm and molestation.208 And does not Garcia know that by denying these converts even the right of testimony alone he becomes a molester? For how would they abound in favors and graces when they are open to rejection by contumely of this kind?209 Yet the unjust attack upon the conversos is only one of the great evils perpetrated by Garda and his Toledan followers. Their very attempt to divide the members of the Church into two categories that must be kept apart is itself a vicious act that entails the gravest danger. Obviously, such a dogma cannot be introduced, let alone spread, without causing untold “dissensions among the faithful.”210 In fact, it cannot be advanced and upheld without tearing the Church apart.211 But “he who rends the Church is a schismatic, and he who authors a schism and denies the unity of the Church is a heretic, especially when he adheres tenaciously to his divisive opinion.”212 How should this heresy be treated? Cartagena has no doubt about it. The Spaniards are strong in faith and fidelity; but heresy, which is a most danger¬ ous disease, can affect even the healthiest of people and therefore should

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never be taken lightly. The princes ought to exercise utmost vigilance in order to expunge, with the greatest speed possible, whatever error that appears against the faith, and thus avoid the peril of contagion. Even the smallest error should be combatted; for heresy is a fire which should be checked immediately. Jerome said: “Arius in Alexandria was a spark; but because it was not suppressed immediately, the blaze has spread across the whole world.”213 Yet however great the responsibility of the princes, the primary responsibility for checking the current heresy rests upon the shoul¬ ders of the Pope. “The Roman Pontiff, more than anyone else, should apply his mind to innovations of this kind, for it is to him, before all others, that the task belongs of both defending the faith and repelling what offends it. For it is in the power of the Roman Pontiff alone to determine questions relating to matters of faith. Consequently, the Pope is expected to do two things: First, inform all the faithful that the assertions of Garcia and his followers are false—that is, unacceptable to the Catholic Church—so that the faithful are held in duty bound to act upon the warning and instructions of the highest Pontiff—the “supreme shepherd” of Christendom, the “vicar ofjesus Christ and his representative on earth.”214 Second, to proceed against the promoters of this error by means of ecclesiastical censure and other remedies provided by the law, so as to correct them if they are corrigible, and punish them if they are not.215 A similar care is incumbent upon the lower prelates within their own dioceses. But the task to be fulfilled by the secular authorities is no less decisive. “For it is the duty of the secular judges, of whom the first are the kings, and below them the other princes, to uphold with the highest zeal, and with the temporal sword, the integrity of the faith and the unity of the Christian people.”216 Therefore, they should “attend with just severity to any stubborn and incorrigible error of heresy which has been revealed by a competent ecclesiastic judge and turned over to the secular court.”217 Sensing the stubbornness of the “heretics” of Toledo and their strong determination to proceed with their plan, Cartagena, evidently, saw no way to stop them except by the use of fire and sword. Like the Relator, then, he advocates inquisitional measures; but to show his impartiality, he adds, again like the Relator, that the same measures should be used also in cases of other heretics whenever they are discovered and found to be incorrigible, be they Judaizers, paganizers, or any other kind.218 There remained the problem of the secular crimes perpetrated in Toledo during the rule of the schismatics. How should justice be served in these cases? Cartagena distinguishes two kinds of crimes among those he defined as secular: “individual” and “communal”—that is, crimes committed by in¬ dividuals or by the community as such. Are all participants in the crimes of the first kind going to be tried and punished? Cartagena understood that such advice could never be accepted or, if accepted, followed. The number of the

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perpetrators of crimes of that kind was simply too great for the government to cope with, or for the city to tolerate their punishment. In this he had before him the example of what occurred following the great riots against the Jews of Spain in 1391. He proposed, therefore, that responsibility for crimes of this category be imputed not to all who were involved in the rebellion but rather to the movers of the disorders. Similarly, he argued, Toledo as a polity cannot be seen as the author of the crimes he called “communal.” The “major citizens” of this city, who are responsible for its government, were absent from the city during the distur¬ bances, since they were expelled by the rebellious mob, and naturally cannot be held responsible for the criminal acts committed by the rebels.219 It follows that although Toledo the urbs (the city per se) remained as it was, Toledo the civitas, the political entity, was no longer there. For its form of govern¬ ment has been so altered that it is no longer the same polity. The government that ruled Toledo before the rebellion was aristocratic, or, if you wish, oligarchic; it consisted of people reputed for their lineage, power and abun¬ dance of resources. As a whole, these were people who stood head and shoulders above the common men. “Under this form of government, not one man, as in a monarchy, nor the people, as in a timocracy or a democracy, but many—though few when compared with the popular multitude—have the authority of government.”220 But in the frenzy of the outbreak, the polity was broken apart and the multitude of the common people (plebs) assumed the power of government. And since this was done, the errors that ensued should not be ascribed to the same civitas, nor should any punishment be imposed upon the civitas as such. Only the arch-sinners, Cartagena maintained, should be gravely punished, while the crowd that sinned should be corrected; and even in this he counseled moderation. “For often the commotion of the people in some cities is occasioned by those whom the Greek called dema¬ gogues, and whom we call usually seditious, or popular orators, persuaders, or inciters of the people. These are the people who should be more severely punished when the common people commit a crime. For although all the participants in the crime are to blame, a greater share of blame should be assigned to the persuaders—i.e., those who incited the seditions with the promise of obtaining freedom from paying tributes, or of expelling the authorities from the city, so that the mutinous plebs may assume domination and illicit liberty. These persuaders duly deserve punishment because they deceive the simple people by their crafty persuasion. Them it is proper to accuse and punish with dutiful severity and severe dutifulness, according to the quality of the persons, so that some of them will regret the crimes they perpetrated, and others be prevented in the future from committing them.”221 According to Cartagena, then, punishment should be meted out primarily to the demagogues, the agitators, and the architects of the mutiny, quite in

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parallel to the manner of treatment he suggested for the crimes against individuals. But he has more to say about Toledo and its future. The Old Toledo died with the rebellion, but it can be revived; and the one who can revive it is the King (“who occupies the place of God on earth”).222 The democratic government should be abolished and the aristocratic one restored. All the present officials in the city who were involved in any crime should be removed, and others should be appointed in their stead—such who are “rightly reputed as standing above others in virtue, nobility, power and wealth of resources, so that in that city the splendor of aristocratic polity may always shine.”223 What we have here is a clear indication of the other basic element of the conflict that evolved between the conversos and the rebels of Toledo. The latter sought to establish a democratic regime in the city in which the common people would have the major say. But a democratic government was the Marranos’ nightmare. Such a government would reflect the sentiment of the plebs; it would necessarily be ruled by people like Marquillos, inspired by hate and jealousy for the Marranos and seeking their destruction. Under such a government, they would have no chance. Hence their determined support of the nobility and the wealthier classes. With them they could find a common language, and to them they could be of service.

II. DIEGO DE VALERA

Perhaps nothing so signified the conversos’ determination to gain full social equality in Spain as their efforts to penetrate the ranks of the nobility, and nothing perhaps so irked their racist enemies as their steady expansion in those ranks. We have seen that Cartagena, in his Defensorium, attempted to prove the right of the conversos to join the Old Christian noble class—a right which was hotly contested by the racists—and he was not alone in making that attempt. About 1451, Diego de Valera, himself a nobleman and the son of a converso,1 wrote his Espejo de Verdadera Nobleza (“A Mirror of True Nobility”)—a treatise in which he sought to refute the arguments of the opposition.2 Knight, diplomat and administrator, Valera was also a poet, essayist, and historian; and while he made little headway in politics, he gained distinction in the field of letters. In fact, he became one of the better known figures of Castile’s literature in the 15th century. His writings are marked by his downto-earth approach, as well as his elegant and swift style. Valera liked to simplify issues, and left much of what he knew unsaid if he thought it did not touch the heart of the matter. Of his various works, his essays rank highest, and among these the treatise on nobility is no doubt one of the best.3 On the face of it, the treatise is not an apology, but an independent inquiry into the origins of nobility, its nature, structure, and obligations. We shall touch on these themes only to the extent that they relate to our present concern, which includes such questions dealt with by Valera as (a) whether converts to Christianity can retain the nobility they possessed in their former faith, and (b) whether converts who originally had not been nobles were entitled to enter the ranks of the nobility. Valera poses these questions toward the end of his treatise, but he may well have written the entire work for the sake of the answers he gave them. Valera begins his inquiry by noting the three categories of nobles indicated by Bartolus, the leading medieval Italian jurist—the theological, the natural and the civil.4 But of these categories he is mainly interested in the third— namely, the civil nobility—the class of the privileged masters and rulers that was the envy of the common people. Valera is not awed by this class, and the whole tenor of his discussion shows that he would like to reduce it to size, or at least to remove it from the high pedestal on which it stands in the eyes of the people. His view of this nobility, if not entirely negative, is certainly highly critical. Valera takes pains to stress its inherent flaws and the contrast it presents in real life to the ideal of its reputation.5 What gave this relatively small group, he asks, the right to dominate the rest of the people and treat

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9

them as their serfs or vassals? Valera can find no moral justification for the origins of the process. Following Innocent III, he answers: “Nature created us free, but fortune made us slaves.”6 Fortune, then, was the real father of nobility that he actually defines as an enslaver. Fortune worked its way by means of individuals who, either by virtue or by force of arms, rose above the people and became its rulers. Then they appointed some who were close to them, or in whom they confided as their aides, for the sole purpose of assisting them in keeping the power they had gained. Thus was born the class of nobles, which was hierarchized, broadened, and ultimately institutional¬ ized by both law and custom.7 The laws define the rights and duties of the noble and the qualities he should possess. But this does not mean that mere possession of these qualities makes a man automatically noble—or, more precisely, raises him from the camp of the plebeians to the ranks of civil nobility. What performs this radical change is only a specific grant of the prince. So it was in the past, and so it is in the present.8 Civil nobility, then, does not originate in the recipient but in the judgment, decision and, obviously, the interests of its grantor, who is the prince. It is not like theological nobility, which is God-given—i.e., a gift of divine grace—or like moral nobility, which consists of virtues that come to man by nature (and hence it is also called “natural”). In fact, civil nobility is not a virtue at all and one cannot say of it, as Dante did, that to be virtuous means to be noble and vice versa. Civil nobility is merely a dignity, a status conferred on some plebeian by a prince who wishes to favor him with a mark of honor. But this honor, though no virtue in itself, is nevertheless a “sign” of virtue; for according to the rules and conventions of nobility, the prince is supposed to confer it only on men known for their integrity and valor. If the noble lives up to the dignity bestowed on him, he may retain his nobility and bequeath it to his children; if he does not live up to expectations, he may lose both the nobility and its rights; for dignity cannot live with infamy.9 Nobility, then, is conditionally bestowed, with no guarantee of perma¬ nence. This is especially true of those who receive their nobility by inheri¬ tance, for their nobility is not based on their own virtues but on those of their forebears. Since moral virtues are not inheritable, what the nobles inherit is merely a status and a pattern of behavior provided by their fathers. This pattern they are expected to follow—if not by disposition, at least by selfinterest—for they are assumed to be anxious to guard the reputation and the privileges they gained by their fathers’ efforts. In any case, except for the lineages of the great lords, the succession of nobility generally lasts for no more than three or four generations.10 It follows that nobility is in a constant state of flux, and the prince often needs to replenish its ranks. He finds his new recruits in the plebeian camp,

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which forms the storehouse of civil nobility. There he finds men distin¬ guished by nature with the virtues that qualify them to be hidalgos. That such men are found in all nations, and that therefore one is forced to conclude that civil nobility does not stem from race, is proven by Valera also from the presence of this type of nobility among the Moors. Pointing to their numerous kings and princes and other men of universal renown, he mentions among the latter the “false prophet” Mohammed, an offspring of a low and poor lineage, who was an outstanding military leader; the great com¬ mander Musa, who conquered the whole of Spain; and Abdul Rahman, the son of a potter, who subjected to his lordship the whole of Africa. “Who,” Valera asks, “can deny these men civil nobility or hidalgma?”" This brings us to the question raised above—namely, whether candidates for civil nobility can be found among the converts. Valera’s answer deals with converts of all origins—i.e., from the Jews, the Moors and other gentiles. But his discussion centers on the converts from Judaism, and here he seeks to refute arguments based on racial grounds. Thus he says: “If anyone may think that to come from the Jewish stock (linaje) is of lesser credit than to come from any other nation, he can easily recognize how much he errs if he wishes to consider the truth,”12 There are no racial differences between the groups of men “since all of them came from that first father Adam.” The separation of mankind into different nations was due not to racial but to religious divisions, and in this respect the nations indeed differ. Obviously, it is better to stem from a nation that believed in the one true God than to come from a people (i.e., the gentiles) that believed in many false divinities.13 This is, he says, why the apostle Paul, addressing himself to the converts from the gentiles, cau¬ tioned them not to boast over the converts from the Jews. After all, he reminded them, they were merely disciples of the followers of Christ among the Jews, and it was thanks to the latter, who founded the Church, that they came to know Christianity.14 We can see how Valera transferred the argu¬ ment from the racial to the religious sphere, and turned Paul’s apology for the Jewish nation into a defense of the Jewish converts—and, by extension, of the New Christians. The argument is supposed to suggest that the origins of the Jewish converts to Christianity are superior to those of the gentile converts, but it is a religious superiority, not a racial one. This is also evident in his discussion of the share the Jewish converts had in building the Church. The opponents of the conversos do not deny that the first converts to Christianity came from the Jews and that it is they who laid the Church’s foundations. But against this they point out that only a fewjews took part in this endeavor, and that the rest of the Church, apart from its foundations, which is most of the Church’s structure, was the work of con¬ verts from the gentiles. Valera’s answer to this argument is aimed at establish¬ ing an equilibrium between the Jewish and the gentile converts.

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Basing himself on Matthew (cap. 20), he says: “Our Lord does not receive those who were late in acknowledging Him in a lesser way than those who recognized Him earlier.” For no one can receive Grace before it is given him, as the Apostle says in II Corinthians 12: “for anyone can allow himself to fall into a pit, but no one is strong enough to come out of it unaided. And thus the Jews who, because of their sins, fell into the [hole of] incredulity . . . cannot come out of it until they are called by the Grace of God.” But “this call does not come to all people at the same time, but rather according to the marvelous order of divine providence,” which baffles our understanding and remains a great mystery. “For the Gentiles, who had lived under the sin of idolatry before coming to the Lord,” had already been called by Him, while “some of the Jews [who are not idolatrous] will be left in the sin of their disbelief [in Christ] until the coming of the Anti-Christ in the end of days . . . And thus in the sins of these as of the others, we see the manifestation of human weakness, and in the benefit of the calling of these as of the others the manifestation of divine kindness ... For the Jews who still remain in their Jewishness will finally be called.”15 Having thus divested the Jewish converts to Christianity of both racial and religious opprobrium, he comes to the paramount question in his discussion: Can they provide candidates for the nobility? Evidently, here too Valera had to reckon with the argument of the opposition, which denied this possibility on the grounds that the Jews, prior to their conversion, had no noblemen among them. This alleged fact was supposed to offer proof that the Jews lacked the fundamental qualities that entitled them to become nobles. Valera denies the validity of this argument by pointing to the nullity of the premise. For the Jews did possess the prerequisites of nobility, as is indicated by their life in ancient times. They then had all three types of nobles, and all in the highest degree. They had an abundance of civil nobility, as is evident from such kings as David and Solomon; they had many men of natural nobility, as is evidenced by such men of valor and virtue as Joshua bin Nun and Judas Maccabaeus; and as for theological nobility, they obviously surpassed any other nation in the number and greatness of the nobles of this kind. “For out of them came all the Prophets, all the Patriarchs and Holy Fathers, all the Apostles, and, above all, our most fortunate Lady, Holy Mary, and her blessed Son our Redeemer, God and true man.”16 By mentioning the great gallery of saints and heroes that emerged from the ranks of the Jewish people, Valera echoes a Torquemadan argument which, he thought, could fit into his thesis.17 Coming back to the subject of civil nobility, Valera also employs another argument to show that the conversos—the descendants of Jews—were enti¬ tled to join the Spanish noble class. As a matter of fact, he claims, this has been proven by the nobiliar record of the Christian nations. “For the Kings

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of England who reigned in that country shortly after the coming of Christ descended from Joseph Arimathaea; the kings of the Goths drew their origin from Abraham, whereas the first Duke of Austria, from whom stemmed many Emperors . . . was a Jew before he turned Christian.”18 The conclusion implied in all this is obvious. If the Jews had nobles who could provide kings and rulers to some of the mightiest nations on earth, there is no reason to assume that their Christian descendants could not join the Spanish nobility. Valera, however, cannot ignore the fact that all the Jewish nobles he referred to belonged to thejews in antiquity and that since then the condition of the Jews has worsened. They have lost the prerequisites for theological nobility which cannot be found among infidels, and they have lost the capacity for civil nobility under the punishment they took in their dispersion. The long servitude to which they were subjected has not only robbed them of their dignities and honors, but also harmed the natural dispositions by which they could be qualified to receive such dignities. The basic virtue essential for nobility—i.e., the virtue of courage—has especially been af¬ fected; for the “suffering of injuries for a long time naturally weakens the human heart, so that those who were by nature brave and strong turned weak, cowardly, and deficient.”19 Nevertheless, once converted to Christianity, the converts are bound to recover the qualities that prepared their forefathers to become nobles, and ultimately “return to the very state in which they [i.e., their ancestors] were in the beginning.”20 Since God’s grace may no longer be denied them, they may again be endowed with theological nobility as were other converts from other infidelities, and they can fully recover the moral virtues that form the basis of civil nobility. But “one should not marvel at the fact,” adds Valera, “that the converts are not so easily restored to the fortitude of their bodies and hearts,” as well as their old honors, “for things lost for so long cannot be retrieved in a day.”21 But, he also says, “if we wish to respect the truth and consider it without malice, we shall find that Our Lord has restored many converts [from Judaism] to their [former] dignities not long after their conversion.”22 Here too we hear the voice of the apologist who was trying to offset the arguments of the adversaries—arguments which, as Valera hinted, were made in a spirit of hatred and malice, with little regard for the facts. Valera’s treatise was clearly a response to an attack on the conversos on the grounds of race, a response in which he moved the focus of the discussion from the field of race to that of religion. He could do so by denying that the racial factor determined either the rise of the different nations or the forma¬ tion of their noble lineages—that is, the development of both their internal and international relationships. He placed the nobilities of the ancient Jewish people on a high—in fact, the highest—level, but did not hesitate to admit that it would take some time before the presentjewish converts recover from

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their injuries and reach the level of the ancient Jews. As we have seen, Valera’s points of departure were identical with those of Torquemada and Cartagena, although the proofs he adduced to substantiate those points were often entirely his own. All in all, his treatise formed part of the counter-attack launched by the conversos against the racist offensive in the struggle for their right to full equality with all other Christians.

V. The Political Views of the Toledan Rebels i

What we have gathered thus far from our review of the Old-NewChristian conflict in Castile is no less than astounding in more than one respect. The struggle against the conversos who, by virtue of their Chris¬ tianity, sought entry into Spanish society, led to the development of a racial doctrine and a genocidal solution to the converso problem. Squarely op¬ posed to religious concepts that had dominated Christian thinking for centuries, this development inevitably clashed with the legal traditions of both Church and State. As such, it was obvious that if allowed to run its course, it would threaten the established order with upheaval. The question to ask now is whether this phenomenon, which touched upon so many vital areas, stemmed from one source—the hatred for the conversos—or owed its appearance to several currents that happened to merge at a given moment. We shall later revert to this question and consider some of its broader implications. But now we must ask whether the rise of the race theory was associated, at least in the minds of its sponsors, with other theoretical developments, political or religious, that may help explain its emergence at that time with such explosive force. To begin with, we must ask: What was the political theory espoused by the Toledan rebels? In particular, what were the political principles upheld by Garda, their moving spirit? As we have seen, the rebels’ utterances on the subject reflect a dual attitude. On the one hand, they recognize the principle of monarchy and indicate their willingness to submit to its authority; on the other hand, they threaten disobedience to the King and back that threat with concrete actions, including the overthrow of the royal government in the city and its replacement by a burghers’ rule.1 Was this dualism a result of duplic¬ ity, or did it express a theoretical position? In any case, their argument seemed self-contradictory; and struck by what appeared to be an inconsist¬ ency, some writers chose one, some the other of these antinomies to repre¬ sent the real attitude of the rebels. Thus, A. Sikroff believed that a “latent anti-monarchical sentiment” deter¬ mined the views and actions of the Toledan rebels.2 But Benito Ruano, a circumspect scholar who wrote a history of Toledo in the 15th century, disagrees, stating that “what cannot be concluded, nor could be conceivable for Castile of that period, is to see in this [Toledan] insurrection ... a latent anti-monarchical sentiment.”3 Trying to weigh the various arguments that could offer support to either opinion, Nicholas Round, in a penetrating study

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of the ideological aspects of the T oledan rebellion, came to the conclusion that what was reflected in that rebellion was far more than a latent antimonarchical feeling. It expressed a “revolutionary idea.”4 The essence of that revolutionary idea lay, according to Round, in a new conception of the source of political authority. In his opinion, the rebels believed that this authority was “rooted in their own consciousness by divine inspiration.”5 In Marcos Garcia’s repeated references to the Holy Spirit as the rebels’ guide, inspirer and protector, Round sees the reflection of a new concept about the “legitimacy” of man’s actions—a legitimacy that gave rise to the “anarchical” tendencies which came to the fore in the Toledan insur¬ rection.6 Furthermore, he maintains that although these doctrines claimed to offer an answer to a social problem in a given political and economic situation, they fundamentally represented a “current of a popular religiosity.”7 In brief, Round believes that the Toledan uprising was an offshoot of the powerful millennial movement that stirred Europe from the beginning of the 14th century on; hence, it was essentially a religious insurrection—a striving for freedom from Church authority, or for self-directed religious activity, that was reflected in a political outburst and a parallel attack upon the monarchy. Unlike the authors cited earlier, Round tries to link the Toledan move¬ ment, as far as its ideological manifestations are concerned, to a general ideological development which could better explain some of its phenomena, and provide a clearer historical perspective. Round sensed correctly that there was a problem here that required deeper probing than it had received. The essence of that problem may be summarized as follows. No set of ideas, however novel, is free from older theoretical influences. In fact, to understand a new theory or doctrine means first of all to identify the “paternal” strain from which it stemmed or deviated. To say, therefore, that the Toledan rebellion reflected an anti-monarchical attitude cannot in itself tell us much, if anything, about the social and ideological origins of that attitude or its actual political content. To determine these matters, we must first inquire whether any other anti-monarchic movement—perhaps one of greater sweep and impact—was visible in Spain, or Europe, at the time. If, upon examination, we arrive at the conclusion that no such movement was apparent elsewhere, we must also conclude that the Toledan rebellion can¬ not be explained by a general trend of an anti-monarchical character. Then we should look for another trend to which we may relate the pertinent phenomena. Should we not find a broad current to which the Toledan movement belonged, we may perceive the latter in a dim or wrong light; we shall see neither its true similarities to other movements nor the real differ¬ ences between it and the others. This means that we may fail to define it, and hence fail to understand it. Round attempted to find the sources of the ideology of the Toledan

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rebellion and, in the process, made valuable observations. Nevertheless, the solution he arrived at does not appear right, primarily because his hypothesis does not fit the main facts of the case. To begin with, there is no clear sign that “anarchic tendencies” dominated the activities and political thinking of the rebels of 1449- T o be sure, the attack upon the houses of Cota, the converso financier and tax collector in Toledo, may be viewed as an instance of mob action, aimed at satisfying “anarchic” desires such as vengeance, robbery and looting. But attacks of this kind were no novelty in Spain; they had been repeatedly directed against the Jews, and the Toledans no doubt viewed the attack of 1449 as an anti-Jewish action. Moreover, the assault upon Cota’s houses was, in all likelihood, a tactical move by which the rebels wished to register their protest against the rule of Alvaro and his Marrano agents. The rebels may also have sought by that move to inflame the anti-Marrano passions in the city, and thereby initiate the anti-Marrano policy which they wished to institute in Toledo. Nor can the attack upon the gates and castles of the city be seen as anarchical in character, as it was part of a calculated strategy swiftly to seize control of the city, and it was no doubt conducted, as we indicated above,8 by the leaders of the rebellion, with Sarmiento at their head. After that, we see the rebels seeking the establishment of formal authority in the city and welcom¬ ing the leadership of Pero Sarmiento, the chief representative of the king in Toledo, who consistently claimed for himself the titles and authority derived from that representation. There is no reason to doubt the report that Sarmiento accepted the leadership of the rebellion on condition that he receive full dictatorial pow¬ ers9; and the fact that the rebels granted him such powers can hardly indicate addiction to anarchy. Furthermore, as head of the rebellious party, Sarmiento ruled the city with an iron hand, and as long as his rule continued, his followers seemed anxious to obey him.10 Moreover, we see the rebels earnestly seeking to legitimize their actions, and the new order they had established, by the consent of royal authority. They persistently attempted to obtain that consent from Juan II, king of Castile, or to secure for themselves another royal patron who might approve of their position. Their negotiations with Enrique (the hereditary prince) and Juan I, king of Navarre, were certainly moves in that direction, as were their appeals to the Pope and other princes and potentates of the Church. To be sure, through these moves they attempted to earn political or military sup¬ port and turn public opinion against the King, yet their very approaches to these authorities show that they sought to be recognized by the established system, ecclesiastic and secular, and not to break away from it, as would have been the case had they been moved by anarchic aspirations. Nor can any tendency toward anarchy be seen in the imprisonments and

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executions of Marranos in Toledo during the rebels’ rule. As integral parts of a popular drive to reduce the power and influence of the Marranos, these acts may be viewed as arbitrary and illegal; but they were based on govern¬ mental authority, and on some form of legal procedure which, however faulty, indicates the importance the rebels attached to rule by law.11 Further¬ more, the rebels sought formally to legitimize at least some of their actions against the conversos by issuing the anti-converso regulation—the SentenciaEstatuto—which they claimed was part of the city’s law, granted and con¬ firmed by the kings of Castile. We also note that Garcia’s Memorial is addressed to “the very high and powerful King [i.e., Juan II of Castile], or Prince [i.e., Enrique, heir apparent to the throne], or administrator, to whom, according to God, law, right and reason, belong the administration and governance of [these] kingdoms.”12 By administrator they referred to that very authority which would substitute temporarily for the royal power if the latter refused, or proved unable, to perform its duties according to their notions. Administrators of this kind had appeared in Castile, and in many other kingdoms, from time to time, especially during the king’s minority, and the rebels emphasized that such an administration must be authorized by the existing laws.13 Certainly, those who recognized the need for an administra¬ tor to govern their society in all circumstances and, furthermore, act in accordance with the laws, were not preaching anarchy; nor can they be assumed to have sought it. Indeed, if anything differentiates the rebellion of 1449 from popular out¬ bursts in Spain at other times (like those against the Jews in 1109) or in other countries (like the Shepherds’ persecution in France or the Black Death persecutions in Germany), it is the remarkable absence of anarchic tenden¬ cies and the determined desire to establish, as soon as possible, a legitimized, ordinary, firm government to carry out the policies demanded by the rebels within the framework of a nationally recognized system. Nor did an anti-monarchic spirit fire the “revolutionary” zeal of the insurgents. Time and again, in all their documents, they emphasized their devotion to the principle of monarchy, and even their faithfulness to the very king with whom they found themselves in conflict. From this attitude they did not budge. It is clearly indicated in the Petition they addressed to Juan II on May 2, 1449, as well as in the Sentencia-Estatuto. Also, the Memorial of Marcos Garcia clearly manifests this solid adherence to the monarchic sys¬ tem as a form of government, and clearly expresses the rebels’ preference that their present King rule as king. They raise no question about the legitimacy and desirability of his kingly government, provided he fulfill his royal duties. “The rebellion in Toledo,” says Garcia, “was not directed, nor could it be directed, against the person of the King [or the principle of monarchy].14 For the citizens of that city know very well that the said King is their king and

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lord by right; They also [know that they] are his natural subjects, and such they want to remain.”15 This is a cardinal statement, and we see no reason to suspect its sincerity in view of the whole trend of the rebels’ argument, and especially in view of their repeated claim that it was not they who abandoned their king but rather the king who abandoned them—that is, by removing himself from the posi¬ tion of kingship when he allowed tyrants like Alvaro de Luna to usurp his powers and rule in his name.16 Later we shall dwell upon this matter further; but it seems worthwhile to stress at this point that the statement of Garda cited above is in full acyord with other expressions of his, as well as with statements found in the Petition, which leave no doubt as to where he stood on the question of kingship as a form of government. And in this connection one may note Garcia’s reference to “the most illustrious king and our Lord Don Juan who, according to laro, is and should be the king of these kingdoms.”17 The rebels, moreover, indicated their recognition of royal rule as the optimal form of government by recognizing the hereditary principle of kingship; hence their justification for placing themselves under the rule of Enrique, the king’s heir apparent, as long as the king failed, in their view, to fulfill the functions of his office.18 Finally, the royal office was held by the rebels to be not only acceptable, legitimate and desirable, but (since it was of divine origin) also irreplaceable and unchangeable. “The honor of the royal Crown,” says Garcia, addressing himself to Juan II of Castile, “stems from Jesus Christ, and you represent Him.”19 All this is obviously not anti-monarchism—and certainly not revolutionary anti-monarchism—and judging by this, Benito Ruano was right in making the statement we cited above. Nevertheless, it is also clear that a counter¬ argument could be made by pointing out that the same Garcia, in the same Memorial, justifies the rebels’ disobedience to the king, hails it as a cause of great reformation of the administration of justice and a great recuperation of all the estates,”20 does not show the slightest tendency to deviate from the rebels’ course, and again makes it clear, as was done in the Petition, that unless the king followed the line of behavior prescribed for him by the rebels, the latter would “take defensive measures against him.”21 This is of course another way of saying that they would resist him even by force, and, in any case, withdraw their allegiance from him and refuse to pay him homage. In view of these insurrectionist statements, were not Garcia’s high-sounding assurances that he recognized royal authority mere lip service to the monar¬ chy and monarchism, while in fact he and the other rebels hated both the principle and practice of kingship and aspired to rid themselves of its yoke? We answer this question in the negative; but in order to justify this answer, we must present Garcia’s views more fully, and also identify the current of opinion from which these views sprang. This compels us to turn our attention

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to some of the medieval political traditions, including the theories concern¬ ing kingship that prevailed in Spain in the 14th and 15th centuries, and more particularly in the reign of Juan II.

II

The political tradition of the Middle Ages—at least since the times of Gregory the Great—embodied two conflicting principles of government relating to monarchic rule. According to one of these, the prince is the Vicar of God, the source of all authority and the fountain of law.22 According to the other, the king is subject to the law, even though he is subject to no person, and the law that governs him is the law of justice, which is determined, first, by divine law and, second, by the customs and concepts of the community.23 To be sure, the adherents of both principles agreed that the king alone had the right to promulgate laws, and it is with reference to the terms of that promulgation that much of the discussion about kingship revolved. One or two more remarks are now needed to clarify the main issues of that discussion. Since the only limitation on the king’s power could be found in the assumption that he was subject to the law, it was in the acceptance or rejection of this assumption by the king that the difference was seen between the two monarchic systems—the absolute and the limited—that had been in operation. The difference, however, was often merely theoretical, for the borders of the systems frequently overlapped, depending largely on the temper of the prince, as well as the general conditions of the kingdom. But confusion was also inherent in the definition and the very concept of each type of monarchy. If the king is the Vicar of God, it was asked, is he not actually taking God’s place in fulfilling His functions of government? And if so, is it not inevitable that the king be bound by the immutable laws of justice? On the other hand, if—as both sides agreed—the king alone is entitled to issue laws, how can he be prevented from issuing new laws if such be his will or fancy? It was further recognized that, with two exceptions—the laws of nature, which are immuta¬ ble, and the divine laws, which are equally eternal—the law must be con¬ stantly revised or changed to suit new conditions and conceptions; it follows that even if one accepts the view that generally the king must be subject to the laws, including those enacted by himself, both types of kings should not be subject to the laws when these require change. Thus, both forms of kingship contain elements of limitation and—more than that—elements of freedom. It all depends on the measure of restraint that the king’s caution or sagacity urges him to employ, or that the objective conditions impose upon the king, often against his inner inclination. In Spain, as elsewhere, the conflict between these concepts marked the

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development of political theory as well as of the system of government; and the ups and downs of these conflicting doctrines are clearly reflected in the Spanish codes and the proceedings of the Cortes in both Castile and Aragon. In Aragon, the concept of a limited monarchy—limited by the will of the people s representatives—was more deeply rooted than elsewhere in the peninsula. In Castile, which bore the brunt of the battles of the Reconquest much longer, and more painfully, than the other Spanish provinces—and hence where strong leadership and complete obedience to the ruler were more often seen as the prerequisite of victory—the absolutist tendency gained the upper hand. There is no doubt that Alfonso X of Castile spoke on behalf of absolute monarchy when he declared the king to be the sole rightful lawmaker, although he agreed that, for the king’s own benefit, he should be the first to obey the laws he had enacted, and although, under the impact of traditional practice, he recommended that kings should seek the “advice and consent” of the great lords and the most learned persons in the kingdom.-4 There is a tendency in scholarship to emphasize the subservience of the Spanish (including Castilian) kings to the constitutional lawmaking processes, and consequently some see in these concessions of Alfonso X proof that he never claimed for himself the exclusive right to promulgate laws or abrogate them at his will, and that he merely wished to indicate in his legislation that laws could not be made without him.25 But this is to read into the documents something they neither say nor imply. For Alfonso’s view of kingship is unequivocal. “Kings, each one in his kingdom, are vicars of God,” he says; and that means that they were placed on earth in the stead of God in order fully to dispense justice and give each one his rights.”26 And again: “The king occupies the position of God in order to dispense justice and law in the kingdom of which he is the Lord. Moreover, “he is the soul and head of the kingdom,

while all other persons

in it are merely its members. And, “as from the head originate the feelings by which all the members of the body are controlled, so also from the king, who is the lord and head of all the people of his kingdom, originate the commands by which they should be directed and guided. -8 These were not mere academic formulae, as some scholars were prone to believe, but state¬ ments that meant to convey, in all seriousness, the convictions of Alfonso X regarding the nature of kingly rule. What is implied in them, from the standpoint of law, is that the king is the only source of law because he, as the “head,” is the only one entitled to impose his decisions upon the people as commands. Royal commands, then, when they relate to habitual behavior, are what in common parlance is known as laws. Actually, however, each com¬ mand of the king has the force of law; for it is incontrovertible and inviolable. That this was indeed Alfonso’s view—namely, that the king is the only

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source of law and that consequently no one else has the prerogative of lawmaking—is indicated clearly by Alfonso himself in his other, somewhat earlier law book, the Especulo or Espejo. There, almost at the beginning, he says: “No one can make laws except an emperor or a king, or someone else by the latter’s order. And if others make them without such an order, they should not be called laws, nor should they be observed, or have the force of law at any time.”29 What is more, to eliminate any doubt whatever as to the scope or meaning of the king’s prerogative of lawmaking, Alfonso included in the same book a stipulation clarifying that “making laws” by kings means mastery of the whole field of law, old as well as new. “Emperors and kings have the power to make laws, to add to them and subtract from them and change each of them as may be necessary.”30 There could be no question, according to this philosophy, who decides what “may be necessary” or ultimately determines what is right and what is wrong. Consequently, both theoretically and practically, no law could have greater stability than one granted by the king’s wish; but neither could it be guaranteed that the king would respect any of his own laws. Since the king could change any law at any time—or even abrogate it totally at his will— was there not truth in the old maxim: “What pleased the king had the force of law” (Quod pnncipi placuit legis habet vigorem)? And, since the king could issue commands—i.e., orders or instructions that have the force of law—in accordance with his changing views and desires, or in accordance with his caprices and interests, did this not mean that, as far as he was concerned, he was “unbound by the laws” (solutus legibus)} Under the best of circumstances, this could mean that while a law might remain on the books, the king’s commands could represent an “exception,” which would take precedence over the written law. But since such exceptions could multiply, not only would the durability of the law be put in question, but also its universality. Yet the whole essence of law, qua law, lies in its durability and universality— that is, in its constant application as a standard of conduct to all whom it may concern.

Ill

To present even a brief outline of the problem, we must also touch upon several other points and, first of all, note that the Alfonsine codes provide some answers to the difficulty involved. To begin with, they say that the king, the lawmaker, should fear and love God and follow his commandments; and thus, while he is the maker of the law, he is bound by the principles of divine justice as expressed in the teachings of the Faith.31 Second, he must obey his own laws, not less, but rather more than all other citizens, and therefore he should not on any occasion claim exemption from the law for himself.32

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Third, in making laws the king should seek the counsel—and, if possible, the consent—of the best and most learned men in the country.33 These are the assurances offered by this system against arbitrariness and frequent change. The assurances, however, were insufficient. They left the king with the power to determine whether any new law he might wish to decree was in accordance with the divine ordinances or not; and they did not in the least affect the king’s right to accept or reject any counsel he received. Neverthe¬ less, they did appear as limitations of some sort, and much, of course, could be read into them. This is why the estates, both nobles and commoners, wished to use the above legal limitations as loopholes, through which they might breach the absolutist system and establish the durability and universal¬ ity of the law. What they attempted to achieve, above all, was to abolish their dependence on the king’s “interpretation” of the laws, which largely meant of course dependence on his will. In the voluminous cuadernos of the Castil¬ ian Cortes, we can see how this unceasing attempt was expressed in a tenacious and tortuous struggle, in which the kings endeavored as well as they could to hold on to their inherited prerogative of lawmaking. Now, what was emphasized as a counter-principle, presumably derived from the above “limitations,” was that while the king was admittedly above all persons, the law was nevertheless above the king. This meant, of course, reducing the king’s status, bringing it closer to that of his subjects, for at least in one most important respect he was not above all other persons. Like anyone else, he was subject to the law, now presented as all-powerful, although—or because—it derived its authority from a principle superior to the law itself—namely, the principle of justice. Accordingly, justice, even more than law, was spoken of as a supreme factor, as something existing independently and objectively that could generally be recognized and agreed upon. Indeed, general agreement to any law was held to be a sign of its inherent justice. And what better way was there to secure such an agreement than having the estates share in its enactment—share, that is, not merely as advisers, but also as participants in the formulation? 1 hus, even if the laws were to be issued by the king and, in this sense, were the “king’s laws,

they

still had to be “just” laws, and they could not be such unless they were regarded also as the “laws of the community.” Are the kings, then, to rule absolutely, with the prerogative of making laws, or are they to be bound by laws sanctioned by the people or changed only with the community’s consent? In other words, is monarchy to be absolute or limited—or, more clearly, subject to the people’s law? This was no doubt the crucial question around which the political struggle revolved, both overtly and covertly. Practical considerations, far more than theoretical ones, determined the course of that struggle. Whenever the kings felt strong enough to advance their absolutist theory of law, they would usually do so;

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whenever they were weak, they made concessions to the estates and enacted laws petitioned at Cortes. As lords of the law, however, they often replaced these enactments by different directives, to which they demanded absolute obedience, “despite” (non obstante) the laws they had issued. Then, when the estates met again at Cortes, the kings often felt impelled, under their pres¬ sure, to assure them that in the future they would refrain from such practices. Yet as soon as they were relieved from that pressure, they invariably resumed the same practice, which meant to them the reassertion of the principle that the king s will is the supreme law. Alfonso XI, in 1348, had the strength to restate openly the views that had guided the legislation of Alfonso X when he said at the Cortes of Alcala de Henares: “It is the king to whom belongs the power to make fueros [for the cities] and laws [for the country], and interpret them and declare them and correct them as he sees fit.”34 It was not without relation to this position that he imposed upon the country the Siete Partidas, with all its definitions of the rights of kings, based on the Vicar of God philosophy. Things changed several decades later, after the monarchy had gone through a civil war and the initiative could again be seized by the estates. At the Cortes of Briviesca, 1387, Juan I laid down in the most explicit terms that “royal briefs, which were contrary to custom or law, were to be disre¬ garded; that the royal officials were not to seal any briefs which contain “non obstante” clauses, and that laws, customs, and ordinances were not to be annulled except by ordinances made in Cortes.”35 This was the most far-reaching concession that royalty in Castile made to the estates in the area of lawmaking; and it represented, of course, a great victory for the estates and for the theory of limited monarchy. But reversals were yet to come. When Alvaro de Luna, Constable of Castile, sought to establish an all-powerful monarchy, one of the first things he did was to repeal (in the Cortes of Palencia, 1431) the enactment of Briviesca.36 In 1440, however, when he was out of office and the government was in the hands of the great nobles, the king had again to yield to the demand that briefs issued in his name which were contrary to the laws would be disregarded.37 In 1442, Juan II, still in subjection to the great nobles, who sought the alliance of the cities, had to retreat further. Cortes then objected to the fact that briefs were still issued contrary to law, and furthermore that these briefs had the charac¬ ter of commands issued with the king’s “certain knowledge and absolute royal power.” It was the expressed wish of Cortes that such extravagant phrases should no longer appear in any royal brief, and if they did appear, the brief should be held null and void and the secretary who inserted them should be deprived of his office.”38 Again, the king yielded abjectly, accepting all the Cortes’ demands and reaffirming that the law of Briviesca must be observed in full.39 This was another leap for constitutionalism in Spain

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toward limited monarchy. That the phrase “absolute royal power was to be forbidden, and that a secretary who used it was to be deprived of his office, were demands which had never been heard, let alone acceded to, in the history of Castilian kingship. But this was not the end of the struggle between the kings who sought absolute power and Cortes or the estates who aspired to limit their rights and, if possible, make them mere executors of their will. In i445> the Cortes of Olmedo, Alvaro, the advocate of absolutism, was again in control of the situation.40 He thought the moment propitious to regain lost ground after all the recent royal retreats, and finally establish, with due legality, the principle of absolute monarchy. Doubtless under his influence and insistence, the cities now submitted a “petition” to the king in which they made it clear that it was the king, and he alone, who was the arbiter of right and wrong and that any action against the king’s expressed will, or even open criticism of it, amounted to an act of treason and violation of the king’s divine right.41 That the cities made this petition unwillingly—that it was imposed upon them by the crafty Constable, and most probably composed by his lawyers 4~can hardly be doubted by anyone who has traced the struggle for their share in government. Yet regardless of the reasons for their surrender—whether they stemmed from fear or calculation—this is how matters stood in 1445. Juan II became absolute ruler by the declared will of Cortes itself. The decree of Olmedo repeats all the statements in favor of unlimited monarchy that could be found in the law books of Spain the laws of the Partidas cited above, of the Fuero Real (of Alfonso X) and of the Ordenamiento of Alcala—and declares them to be the only foundation upon which the country’s government should be based. Again it is emphasized, in all serious¬ ness, that the king is the Vicar of God and hence occupies the place of God on earth; that he is the “head” and “heart” and “soul” of the people and that they are his “members”; that “naturally” they owe him by virtue of these facts “all loyalty and fidelity and subjection and obedience and reverence and service”; that his power is so great that he is above all law, customary and written, “for his power comes not from men, but from God, whose place he holds in all temporal matters”; that “the heart of the king is held in the hands of God, and that God guides him and inclines him to whatever He pleases,” and consequently it would be “very abominable, and sacrilegious and absurd, and no less scandalous and harmfhl, and against God, as well as against di¬ vine and human law, and repugnant to every good policy and natural reason and to all law, both canon and civil, and inimical to all justice and loyalty ... if the king . . . had to be subject to his vassals, subordinates and natural subjects and be judged by them.”43 Therefore, if there is anything in the former laws which is likely to lead people wrongly to understand their relationship with, and duties to their sovereign, the king is advised to revoke

these laws by his “definite knowledge, and his own will, and absolute power.”44 As Carlyle noted in referring to this statement, “It would be difficult to find a more emphatic assertion of the doctrine of Divine Right of the king, and of his absolute authority as above the law.”45 Yet this assertion became the law of the land and the guiding principle by which all other laws were measured. In practice this meant the loss of all the concessions gained by Cortes after two centuries of hard struggle; it meant the establishment of a virtual dictatorship, nominally royal but actually directed by the chief minis¬ ter, Alvaro de Luna.

IV

It was unrealistic to assume that Castile, whose political tradition was opposed to such doctrines, would accept the new order without protest. Indeed, even if the king himself had been the real standard-bearer and enforcer of this principle, he would doubtless have encountered, sooner or later, stern opposition from some quarters. Now that the king’s weak per¬ formance displayed the opposite of the powers ascribed to him, and the man who actually upheld the hated principle was not the king but his chief minister, it was easy to attack the new policy on the grounds that it was nothing but a maneuver by Alvaro de Luna to seize absolute power for himself. Having thus exonerated the king from blame, the struggle against the absolute monarchy could be presented as a struggle for the legal monarchy against a usurper who sought to augment the rights of kingship beyond what law and political tradition had ever permitted in Spain. This was the argument that propelled the campaign of Alvaro’s antago¬ nists. In it lay their strength, but also their weakness. For Alvaro could counterclaim that the nobles’ contentions were nothing but excuses to oust him from his post and thereby attain their real aim, which was not to protect the king from him, Alvaro, but rather to assume complete control of the government and render the king virtually helpless. Surely the cities would oppose such a prospect even more than they opposed a strong monarchy, and it was due to their stand on this issue that Alvaro could attain a political balance and maintain his position as ruler of Castile. It should be noted, however, that for many years Alvaro refrained from fully expressing the extreme parts of his political philosophy. Seeking to allay the fears of the opposition, he cautiously veiled his ultimate aims insofar as his formal stand was concerned. On the eve of the battle of Olmedo, however, he dropped all political caution. He forced Cortes to accept the doctrine of Divine Right and then proceeded to apply it to both the barons and the cities. His determina¬ tion to apply the absolutist principle as a guiding rule for administrative

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action meant that all previous rights and privileges would be totally disre¬ garded if the king found it necessary to override them. It meant taking harsh measures which more often than not appeared arbitrary and high-handed, and which the cities were not prepared to tolerate. This was Alvaro’s great mistake. He went too fast and too far in his efforts to translate the principle of Olmedo into political reality. When it came to the actual test, Castile was not ready to take it; and the results were inevitable. New insurrectionist steps by the nobles were taken in 1448; and the cities became restive and more reproachful.46 This brings us back to the chain of events that links Alvaro’s policies with what occurred in Toledo in 1449.

Inasmuch as it touched the monarchic regime of Castile under Juan II, the outbreak in Toledo undoubtedly expressed the feelings of the great majority. Although the elite of Toledan society was prepared to give Alvaro the “loan” he demanded, it is clear that they did so unwillingly. When the lower classes broke out in revolt, the upper classes in Toledo and the country as a whole reacted with an ominous silence. If most of the elite failed to identify themselves with the rebels, they also failed to identify themselves with Alvaro and the king. They may have disliked Sarmiento, his tactics and his administration, but they approved of most of his declared goals, and rejoiced over the fact that Alvaro and the king were given a lesson to remember. Indubitably, they hoped that the occurrences in Toledo would lead to a change in the governmental system and prevent further attempts by the administration to ride roughshod over the cities’ rights. To this extent Marcos Garda de Mora was certainly the Toledans’ spokesman. And he could be so precisely because he was not an anti¬ monarchist but a typical, though perhaps somewhat radical, representative of the party that argued for limited monarchy and the supremacy of the law based on old traditions, or newly created in a representative assembly by the mutual consent of the king and the people. This is why in his Memorial he so frequently cites the legal authorities that sustained his view,47 and why he mentions, with great emphasis, the law adopted at the Cortes of Briviesca.48 These citations indicate what the struggle was all about. It was a struggle not to abolish the monarchy, but to place it under the rule of law—and that meant to deny it the right to disregard or act inconsistently with the old laws, or those approved in Cortes. Again let us note the words of Garcia: 1 he rebellion was not directed—nor could it be directed—against the person of the king. For the citizens of this city know very well that the said king is their king and lord by right; they also know that they are his natural subjects and such they want to be."49 It follows that if the city rebelled against the king (or, more broadly, against kingly rule), it should be “damned and reproached..’50

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But the city rebelled not against royal rule, which is legitimate, but against absolutism, which is illegitimate. Therefore, “those who say that the city of Toledo and its citizens perpetrated a damned and reproached rebellion do not tell the truth. They lie as traitors, flatterers, destroyers, and as those who, with their flattery, falsehoods and lies, make the king sin and lead him to believe that he is entitled to use absolute power."51 What Marcos Garcia de Mora opposed, then, was absolute monarchy. Both his negative opinion of anti-monarchic rebellion and his justification of the Toledans’ insurrection—or, rather, their resistance to Juan IPs rule— help us understand his political thinking and define correctly the current of thought with which he should be identified. From the 12th century on, the political theorists kept stressing the difference between king and tyrant, and found it permissible, on a variety of grounds, to overthrow a tyrant by force. Tyranny, for these thinkers, was of course not synonymous with government by Divine Right; rather, was it seen as a government by no right, either divine or human. Indeed, both divine and human right as the foundations of the monarchic system could be recognized, it was believed, by the king’s decrees, which aimed at the common or public good; and consequently, the nature of these decrees formed the test of a true and rightful king. This view was summarized by Aquinas as follows: “The rule of the tyrant is not directed to the common good, but to the private advantage of the ruler.”52 The definition was Aristotle’s,53 and before Aquinas, it was repeated in the Middle Ages by such leading churchmen as Isidore of Seville54 and John of Salisbury.55 But “private advantage” as the ruler’s purpose ceased to be the real sign of tyranny. Essentially, the medieval jurists agreed that a king who puts himself above the law will utlimately act against the law, and hence against the interests of the community, which will inevitably render him tyrannical. “There is no King,” said Bracton, the famed 13th century English jurist, “where merely will rules and not the law,”56 and Bartolus, the foremost Italian lawyer, firmly supported this conclusion when he defined a tyrant as “one who rules not according to the law” (de jure).57 From the medieval political tradition, therefore, Garda could easily draw the conclusion that rebellion against tyrants is not a crime and, furthermore, that tyranny and absolute monarchy are virtually synonymous. But he could also gather something more radical—namely, that armed resistance to tyr¬ anny is not only permitted but commended by the law, and indeed even required by it. In fact, “when the citizens offer such resistance,” he says, they not only defend themselves but “serve their lord the king, inasmuch as they do not allow him to act against God and against himself.”58 In support of this argument, he cites a number of laws, both canon and civil, among them the extravagant Ad reprimandam, which condemns a rebel¬ lion made with hostile intent against the person of the king59—from which it

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is clear, in his opinion, that it does not condemn a rebellion made with no such intent, but simply for the purpose of preventing or curbing the abuse of royal power. He also refers to the laws of the Partidas, without indicating their identity or presenting their contents. We ought, however, to take cognizance of these laws, for it was around them that the controversy on rebellion revolved in Spain in the decade preceding the outburst in Toledo. To begin with, the fifth title of the second part of the Partidas states that a king should be the first to obey the law60; and in the tenth law of title I part II—after describing the nature of a tyrant, generally according to Aristotle’s definition61—it states that “if a king should make bad use of his power in any of the ways stated in this law, people can denounce him as a tyrant, and his government, which was lawful, will become wrongful.” But it is the twentyfifth law of title XIII, part II, that goes farthest in this respect. It speaks about the need of the people to watch over their king, and it reads as follows: This care should be manifested in two ways; first, through counsel, by giving the king reasons why something should not be done; second, through acts, by seeking ways which may cause him to detest some¬ thing and abandon it, and also by throwing impediments in the way of those who advise him to do it. For since they know that bad conduct will appear worse in him than in any other person, it is expedient for them to prevent him from committing it. And in protecting him from himself, in the manner we have mentioned, they must know how to protect both his soul and body, proving that they are good and loyal men by desiring that their king may be good, and perform his duties properly. Wherefore those who have the power to protect him in these matters and are unwilling to do so, knowingly permitting him to err, and transact his affairs in an improper way so that men will be ashamed of him, commit open treason. This law which speaks of the subjects’ duty to protect their king against himself when he takes the wrong course; which commands them to “impede” the king’s bad advisers so as to prevent him from committing wrong; which imposes this duty upon them to the point of imputing treason to those who ignore it—is one of the most remarkable pronouncements in the political literature of the Middle Ages. It is clear that in such a case the subjects, of whatever class—“the members of the body,” so to speak—assume the func¬ tion of the “head,” which, supposedly, the members are in duty bound to obey. It is they—i.e., the members—who now determine what is right and wrong, proper and improper; and it is they who should use every means in their power, except for violating the king’s person, to prevent him from accomplishing any act which they consider faulty. The law was cited by the rebel barons in justification of their acts,62 and it was this law that Juan II opposed most forcefully at the Cortes of Olmedo when he established the

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principle of Divine Right.63 There can be no doubt that this was the law that Garcia had in mind when he referred, in this connection, to the Partidas.M For while he emphasized that the rebellion of Toledo was, to begin with, not against the king but against the “scorpion” (Alvaro), who misrepresented the king, he added, nevertheless, that even when Alvaro’s orders “emanate from the king’s free will,” they must be regarded as “nothing or iniquitous” and as “acts which the king committed against himself’; and in such a case, “not only are the subjects not duty-bound to fulfill them, but they ought to resist their implementation.”65 It is only by such “resistance” that they can serve their lord, the king,66 whereas by complying with his orders, they commit a great sin not only against God, but also against the king himself.67 Garda relies on the law of Briviesca that is based on the Partidas. But he also derives the right to “rebellion” from the concept of kings by Divine Right, except that he imparts to this term an entirely new meaning. What are the rights and duties of monarchy, according to Garda? The answer is included in the following passage he addresses to Juan II: The honor of the royal crown stems from Jesus Christ, and you represent Him. Therefore, He wanted to be crowned with thorns that perforated the entrails of his head, giving to understand that the kings are kings for His sake, and [accordingly] wear His crown. For that crown, and with it, they have to suffer pains, afflictions and labors in order to serve Him, to avenge His injuries, to defend and shelter His people, and not to indulge in enjoyments and pleasures.68 It follows that the king is a “Vicar of Christ” not merely in the sense of the people’s lord, of the highest governmental authority on earth, but also in the sense of Christ’s moral image, in his selfless devotion to the people’s welfare, and his ceaseless desire to do them good. The fulfillment of these tasks involves pains and hard labor, not pleasures and enjoyments—a direct jibe at Juan II, who was known for his love of feasts and holidays, and was inclined more to a life of leisure than to one of strenuous effort. Moreover, it involves martyrdom and self-sacrifice—indeed, a readiness by the king to give his life for the causes for which he was made king. All this is symbolized by Christ’s crown of thorns, and not by the crowns of gold which are put on the kings’ heads. It is a king who wears Christ’s crown whom the people will “serve, obey and honor.” But a king who represents the opposite of that image, who abandons his duties to Christ and His followers, and who turns a deaf ear to the complaints of his people, should not be honored, but resisted. The people should take “defensive remedies” against him—“remedies which are granted them by divine and human law, by the law of nature and the law of Scripture.”69 It is not only a “tyrant,” then, but also a king who neglects his duties, or

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fails to meet the standards of his office, who should be resisted by the people and deposed. Implicit in all this is the view that public office represents not only honors and privileges, but also difficult obligations; the higher the office, the greater the responsibilities and the heavier the burden upon its holder. Behind the high-sounding title of “Vicar of Christ,” therefore, looms the idea of the people’s king, who is responsible to no one but the people. Rather than their master, he appears as their servant, and he is entitled to their obedience only to the extent that he performs his service. This was certainly a concept of kingship far removed from that of the absolutists, but it had its predeces¬ sors in Europe and in Spain. Medieval political theory from the 12th century on repeatedly reflects the concept of the king as the people’s servant,70 and the image of the “king wearing the crown of thorns” is merely Garda’s extension of that concept.

V

No less symptomatic of Garcia’s political position and the current of thought to which he belonged is his attitude toward the Pope. In fact, his ideas about papal prerogatives are closely related to his views on kingly rule. No wonder that his attack upon the Pope resembles, in more than one respect, his criticism of the King. The Pope “closed his ears” and “hardened his heart” to the just appeals of the rebels, says Garcia.71 He denied the Toledans’ request for an audi¬ ence,72 and thus refused to be confronted with the truth. Thus “against the Saints and against all justice, he qualified the Jewish race (genero) and those who came from it... to have public offices and benefits, and disqualified the Christians because ... they burned the heretics.”73 “It is impossible to say that such judgments and apostolic letters emanated from the judicious or consid¬ ered will of the Holy Father.”74 In fact, the Pope acted under Marrano influence, exerted upon him by the Cardinal of St. Sixtus, and under the influence of the constable of Castile. “He feared or favored the dismal face of Alvaro more than the Eternal Majesty.”75 Yet whether the Pope did what he did “out of love for, or out of fear of the tyrant,” he acted like an idolater, “for it is idolatry to serve man rather than God.”76 Such strong language by a commoner addressing the head of Christendom sounds impudent and, indeed, extraordinarily audacious. But even more offensive is Garda’s declaration that all the Pope’s orders against the city of Toledo, as well as against Sarmiento and himself, will be regarded as null and void; and topping the audacity is his open warning that, unless the Pope reconsiders his decisions and takes the course dictated by his duties, the city will take “defensive measures” against him.77 It will present its case before a Council of the Church.78

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Whence this daring language, this assault upon the Pope, with its open slight to the Pope’s authority and flat refusal to accept his judgment? Was it merely a sign of stubborn adherence to the extreme position taken originally by the Toledans—a stubbornness that was part of Garcia’s tactics, a means of demonstrating his unshaken conviction of the righteousness of his and the Toledans’ cause? Or do we have here a symptom of some general attitude that formed the background of this response? In other words, was it a revolutionary or an evolutionary factor that dictated his reaction to the papal bulls? As we see it, both these elements had a share in shaping Garcia’s criticism of the Pope. Garcia came of age, it must be recalled, during the great conflict that unfolded in the Church between the followers of the conciliar movement and the papalists. Central in this struggle was the question: Would the pope or the Council have the final say in the affairs of the Church? Or, to put it in political terms: was the pope the source of all authority in the Church and the final arbiter of right and wrong, and the Council had merely an advisory function; or did the Council, representing the community of the Church, possess decisive powers, and the pope was merely its obedient officer, subject to the Council’s instructions? Viewed from a strictly legal standpoint, the question may also be framed thus: Was the pope the Vicar of Christ on earth (as had been claimed so frequently), and consequently his word was the ultimate law; or was he, like all other Christians, under the Church’s law, whose interpretation lay in the hands of the Council, the highest authority in legal matters and the source of all final directives? In brief, was the pope in the position of king by Divine Right, or was he merely an executor of conciliar decisions expressing the views of the demos of the Church? It was around these issues that the struggle was waged in the Council of Basle throughout its duration, and a new schism developed in 1439 that was dis¬ solved only in 1449—the very year of the Toledan rebellion. To be sure, several years before that dissolution the victory of the papal cause seemed assured. But the papacy was still gravely concerned with the possibility of a new flare-up of schismatism, and the views of the conciliar representatives were still popular in many parts of Europe.79 Spain, like all other European countries, was torn between the conflicting tendencies, and although Castile was more on the side of the Pope, it was by no means free from conciliar influences.80 In Castile, as elsewhere, public opinion was divided between the pro- and antipapal school. Was the Pope to be what he wanted to be—emperor of the faithful in all spiritual matters— or was he to be the standard-bearer of the Church and the spokesman of its duly chosen representatives? Was the Church to be run like an absolute monarchy, or was it to be democratically controlled? This was the issue. Figgis has shown the close relationship between the ideas that inspired the

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conciliar movement and the political theories about the nature of the best government that had developed in the preceding centuries. According to Figgis, the conciliar movement was fed by the currents of thought that urged a limited monarchy and gave increasingly stronger justification to a govern¬ ment of law—or rather of laws enacted by the people. Contrarily, the victory of papalist philosphy in the middle of the fifteenth century strengthened the current of absolute monarchism that established itself in Western Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries.81 The thesis is of enormous breadth and depth, and requires further exploration. The probability of such a relationship, however, appears to border on certainty. This does not mean of course that all who held the papalist view held a similar view about the king, or vice versa. This was not the case during the great conflict between the papacy and the Empire, and certainly not always the case in the period that followed the Pope’s victory over conciliarism. But laymen who insisted on a limited monarchy were prone to sympathize with the conciliar movement. It was no mere accident that conciliarism drew its strength in the Council of Basle not so much from churchmen as from laymen, especially jurists; and these were, more often than not, advocates of limited monarchy. Judging by some of his expressions on the papacy, Marcos Garcia appears to have been a protagonist of the conciliar movement. We have seen that he threatens the Pope with calling a Council to determine the position the Church should take on the issue of the conversos, and accordingly react to the Pope’s decision in this matter. He completely rejects the Pope’s judg¬ ment, accusing him not only of improper treatment of the case from the standpoint of canon law, but also of partiality and favoritism to the strong. There is no question here of recognizing automatically the overall moral authority of the Pope and of treating his judgments as infallible, or even final. Above the Pope stands the Council, to which Christians can appeal for redress of grievances. But the spirit of Basle is especially reflected in the following passage of the Memorial, in which Marcos Garcia states in no uncertain terms his theoretical position on the papacy. And let not the arrogant and dominant tyrants be confident; and let not the ambitious impetrators and surreptitious flatterers hope for assistance by broadening the divine authority that says: all that you will bind will be bound, etc. [Matth. xvi.19]. For by the very phrasing of the said declaration, the said authority is already limited, and truly under¬ stood [it means:] “If you bind justly [it will be bound] and if you do not miss [the keyhole, the door will be opened],” as is noted in the . . . decretals; and if that statement is understood in a different manner [i.e., as the aforesaid interpreters would have it], it would indicate a great obscurity and blindness—for then the delegated would have greater

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power than the delegating, and the minor greater power than the major.82 By the “flatterers” and “impetrators” Garcia referred of course to the leading conversos in the Council of Basle and especially to Juan de Torquemada, who fought for the supreme authority of the Pope, his complete independence and infallibility against the contrary position of the conciliarists. We see that Garcia was well informed of what had happened in that council, and we can also see clearly what his own view of the rightful status of the papacy was. To be sure, he too is prepared to grant the pope the highest honorary title; the pope is the Vicar of Christ, just as the king is the Vicar of God; but the Vicar of Christ is not Christ, just as the Vicar of God is not God. The authority granted the pope is not all-embracing; it is limited, as is the authority of the king; and the judge of the pope’s behavior must be the Council, just as that of the king should be the Cortes. What determines the validity of his decisions is precisely what determines those of the king— i.e., the extent to which they conform to justice, which must guide all human decisions and is the yardstick for evaluating all human actions. “The Truth [that is, God],” says Garda, “does not hold condemned him whom a tempo¬ ral tribunal or judge condemns unjustly,”83 This is the view of Scripture and this is the position of the Holy Council, to which the Pope must yield and by which he must abide, for his tribunal is also “temporal.” What we see here is a clear challenge to the principle of papal infallibility. But the challenge also extends to the idea of the inherent superiority of the pope’s judgments, and even more so to the basic integrity from which those judgments are supposed to stem. His criticisms of the Pope’s reaction to the occurrences in Toledo, and of his attitude toward the rebels, reflect these positions clearly. Why did the Pope behave the way he did? Garda asks; why did he yield to Alvaro and the conversos? And as we have seen, he attributed this surrender to “fear” of, or “love” for Alvaro, the tyrant. But later on he admits or feigns ignorance of the reasons for the Pope’s behavior. “It is not known,” he says, “what cause moved his Holiness to qualify them” [i.e., the conversos] as good Christians, while “the decrees and decretals resist, im¬ pugn and contradict such qualification.” But if he is perplexed by the Pope’s conduct, he is certain about the reaction it deserves. “If there are some papal letters,” he says, “that qualify that damned race against all divine and human law,” the instructions they contain should not be fulfilled. Yet this was only the negative side of the reaction he recommended. As for the positive side, there remains his earlier conclusion: If the Pope reverts to the true course, the city will accept his orders; “if not, it will have to take ‘defensive measures’ to the extent that justice permits it.”84

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This is doubtless the lowest point in his devaluation of the papacy. The Pope may behave not only illegally, but also immorally. For, like the king, he is subject to human weakness and such influences as flattery, fear and interests, political as well as material, all of which lead him to flout and violate the just laws in favor of those whose favor he seeks. What is worse, he may be deprived of his own will and become the instrument of another will, as happened to Juan II, king of Castile. In such a case, the citizens of the Church need not respect his judgments; they have the rights to “defend” themselves against the Pope, as they have the right to take “defensive measures” against a misguided and tyrannical king. Thus we see a remarkable similarity between his view of kingship and his view of the Pope; both were founded on the same principles, and both were related to the political position taken by the Toledan rebels. Marcos Garcia de Mora, their leader, was a follower of the political tendency that advocated the curbing of the king’s powers, and he was a follower of the conciliar movement, which advocated restriction of the Pope’s rights. He did not seek abolition of the papacy any more than he did the annulment of kingly rule. Formally and ceremonially, he was ready to grant both king and pope the highest honors; but factually, he sought to narrow their powers and limit their prerogatives, so that they should be what their duties implied and what they ought to have been in the first place—that is, not rulers by Divine Right but rulers by the consent of the people.

VI

With the identification of the currents of thought in which Garda’s politi¬ cal ideas had their origin, the question posed at the opening of this chapter may be considered, we believe, answered. The radical views of Church and State that reverberate in Garda’s campaign were basically an extension of the ideologies of reformation, religious and political, which were agitating most of Europe in his lifetime, and not an offshoot of the millennialist movement, which arose at the time in Central Europe, but whose waves hardly reached the shores of Spain. The occasional appeals to the Holy Spirit that we find in Garda’s Memorial provide no real evidence of the influence of a chiliastic tendency, since such appeals were typical of advocates of Church reform as they were of the believers in millennialism.85 We may readily agree that Garcia’s references to the Holy Spirit point to a reliance upon the individ¬ ual’s own conscience as his supreme authority and final judge; but for this very reason, they do not indicate a deep, but a rather shallow religiosity. Stripped of their thin religious garb, his appeals to the Holy Spirit may be identified as appeals to the individual’s convictions, illumined in some man¬ ner by divine inspiration, but tested in the final analysis for their truth in the

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assembly of the people. Essentially, in his opinion, it was not the voice of the individual, but vox populi—or rather the voice of the legal representation of the community—that should be, or in which should be vested, the supreme authority in both state and Church. For Garcia was, above all, a jurist, not a mystic; a political agitator, not an evangelist; a practical politician, not a dreamer; more particularly, he was a man of the people, who sought to broaden their rights and the scope of their power. In him we hear the call of the common man, the call of the lower classes (even the lowest!), whose spokesman and champion he wished to be. In him we hear the voice of burgeoning democracy—a democracy not yet properly defined, but arising out of repressed desires for justice and reform in many fields. For Garcia, who emerged from the lowest classes, shared their deep yearnings for change as well as their bitter frustrations and resentments. Therefore, behind the political principles which he passionately advocated, and in which he firmly believed, there burned group hatreds and personal grudges; and these not only lent ferocity to his argument, but also led him away from his main purpose into the dark alleys of other theories that preached vengeance and bloodshed.

VI. Old Christian Apologies for the Conversos I. FERNAN PEREZ DE GUZMAN

Perhaps the earliest circumspect view of the conversos’ religious attitudes and tendencies was expressed by Fernan Perez de Guzman, undoubtedly one of the brightest literary lights in the period of Juan II. As a member of the high nobility of Castile, he was involved in the political conflicts of his country at least until 1432, but he earned his fame not as statesman or politician but as poet, essayist and historian. Originally a partisan of the Infante Enrique, he remained all his life an adversary of Don Alvaro and a sharp critic of the latter’s activities, but he clearly discerned the faults and vices also of many of Alvaro’s opponents. His Generaciones y Semblanzas, which consists of brief portraits of many public figures of Castile, includes some of his opinions on social phenomena related in a way to the persons he discussed. His remarks on the converso problem occur in his sketch of Pablo de Santa Marla,1 bishop of Burgos, whom he held in high regard, and for whose son, Alfonso de Cartagena, he felt both friendship and admiration.2 The article was written after Don Pablo’s death (1435) and probably before the rebellion of Toledo (1449), because he makes no allusion to that event, which was intimately connected with the subject of the conversos and was still very much on the people’s mind when he was about to complete his book.3 We may gather this also from his assertion that none of the conversos rumored to be Judaizers had ever been brought before an ecclesiastic judge,4 unless we assume that he denied the legitimacy of the judges who served in the Toledan tribunals of 1449 that condemned a number of conversos as Judaizers. Nor does he refer to any scandals or clashes produced by religious or other accusations leveled at the New Christians by the Old ones (as was the case in Toledo). Be that as it may, while discussing Don Pablo, Guzman thought it fitting to express his view of the converso question. Guzman’s observations constitute a moderate and guarded defense of the New Christians against those who considered them religious impostors. He had “several reasons,” he says, to be opposed to those who “condemn or besmirch this nation of the New Christians... without making any distinction and difference [among their members], claiming that they were [all] not Christians and that their conversion was neither good nor useful.”5 Guzman cannot concur with these extreme assertions. To be sure, he does not doubt that people who lived all their lives in that religion (i.e., Judaism), who were born and reared in it, and especially grew old in it, if dragged by force to the New Law without admonitions and exhortations, would not be so faithful and

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Catholic Christians as those born in Christianity and informed of its tenets by learned men and instructive writings.6 Even the disciples of our Lord, who heard His holy sermons, and, what is more, saw His marvelous works, abandoned him and doubted His resurrection out of the weakness of their faith, until they became confirmed in their faith by the Holy Spirit. And even later, the apostles allowed the newly converted to practice some ceremonies of the Old Law until, little by little, they became firm in the faith. Lor all these reasons, Guzman concludes, “I would not be surprised if some (algunos) of the newly converted in our time were, not Catholic Christians, especially among the women and the dull and crude people (groseros e torpes), who are not learned in the faith. Lor it is easier to draw to the knowledge of the truth an informed and learned man (sabidor o letrado) than an ignorant one who believes in the faith only because he inherited it from his father, but not for any other reason.”7 This is of course a hypothetical statement. Guzman does not tell us that he was actually not surprised to find somejudaizers among the Marranos, but that he would not be surprised if some delinquents were found among them. Obviously, the hypothesis does not lean on experience but on logical as¬ sumptions, supported by the example of the Jewish converts in the Apostle’s generation. The logic is commonplace, and hardly disputable: it takes time for those born in a certain faith to be accustomed to and rooted in another faith. Obviously, this general assertion applies to the followers of all religions, including the Christian Spaniards (as we shall see below), and not only to the Jews who were converted to Christianity. On the other hand, what he knows from his own experience leads him to conclude that “there are among them [i.e., the conversos] some [algunos\ devoted and good people." To begin with, he is acquainted with a number of converso friars who lead a hard and austere life in the convents, not because they are compelled to do so, but out of their own choice. Second, he sees some of them labor and spend much of their substance to improve the conditions in certain convents; and he has also seen others like Pablo de Santa Maria and his son Don Alfonso, both bishops of Burgos, who “wrote several works of great value to our faith.”8 These experiences corroborate his belief that the holy water of baptism has indeed great power and that it could not have touched so many people without having some positive result. Thus, against some of the conversos who may not be true Catholics, Guz¬ man points out some others who are definitely good Christians; and while the former statement of his is grounded on assumptions, the second is based on fact—that is, on his own observation of converso friars, prelates, and reform¬ ers. It seems that Lernan Perez de Guzman did not know many conversos intimately and that he did not meet anyjudaizers either. Nowhere does he indicate that he had close contacts with conversos other than ecclesiastics.

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But what he saw was enough to disprove the general accusations against them; he would not be surprised if they were true in part; but he had no evidence of this. Guzman also rebuts another charge made against the converso theolo¬ gians. It was said that they had composed their books out of fear of the kings and the prelates and in order to gain more favor with them. Guzman cannot find any substance in this claim. “In our time,” he says, “there is no such great zeal for the faith that they [i.e., the converso authors] would have to [com¬ pose their works] out of fear or hope. For today the hearts of the kings and the prelates can be gained by gifts and donations more than by virtues and devotions. Nor is the zeal for the faith so rigorous that fear would make one shun evil and do good.” Therefore, he must adhere to his view that there are dedicated Christians among the conversos and that it is “not right to utter so absolute and definite a condemnation of a whole nation."9 What is the future of the conversos in Christendom? Guzman does not deny that the newly grafted, tender plants require much care and labor before they become rooted in the faith.10 In his opinion, the children of the first converts should have been separated from their parents and duly edu¬ cated as Christians, for the precepts and counsels of the parents leave a strong impression on the hearts of small children. Yet although this was not done, he believes that their conversion was useful and beneficial, for the Apostle said: “I rejoice in the fact that the name of Jesus Christ is lauded either truthfully or feigningly.” Above all, “assuming that the first converts would not be such good Christians, the second and third generation—and even more so the later ones—will be Catholic and firm in the faith.”11 To prove this thesis Guzman presents the case of the Christians who were converted to Islam after the Moslem conquest and whose offspring showed themselves so opposed to Christianity that they fought the Christians who sought to reconquer the land.12 He also saw many Moors who went over to the Christian camp because of some disagreement with their king, and yet they remained faithful to their religion and not even one of them converted to Christianity, although they could do so freely—and all this “because they were so attached to, and so established in that error since childhood” that they could not abandon it.13 Moreover, even those of them who died in Castile had remained so devoted to their ill-fated sect that, although they had no more reason to fear the Moors, they adhered tenaciously to their Islamic religion. This is what heritage and education do in matters of faith. “Why should I not believe about some of the conversos what I have noticed in all those Moslems?” Here, too, Guzman seems to draw his conclusions about the conversos not from direct observation but from analogy; but actually he could rely on some experience also in the case of the conversos. After all, when he wrote his sketch of Paul (perhaps in the early 1440s), he had already

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met conversos of the second generation, and he could not help hearing their views and knowing where they stood toward Judaism and Christianity. One is inevitably led to assume that he based his moderate defense of the New Christians on analogies more than on evidence because he was hesitant to speak too favorably of the New Christians and thereby subject himself to the criticism of the converso haters. We can note his desire to protect himself against these critics when he opens his apology with a declaration of his reverence for those whose definite and unreserved opinions he was going to dispute.14 “Why should I not think about some of the conversos what I have seen in all the Moslems?” Has he really seen all the Moslems who came to Castile, and only a few of the conversos who lived in it? “And thus, in my opinion, in all these matters we have to abandon the extremes and put limits and restraints on our judgments. Or, if people know that some conversos do not guard the [Christian] law, let them accuse them before the prelates in a manner that the punishment would serve as chastisement for the culprits and example to the others; but to condemn them all and accuse none seems to be more the result of a desire to malign than of a zeal to correct.”15 Here at last Guzman gives us an inkling of what he really thought of the criticisms so often uttered against the conversos. No proof has been proffered of their violations of the faith; no accusations have been brought forth; evil tongues, however, were busy besmirching and reviling them. Is not all this talk based on nothing but ill will? Theoretically, he could find some basis for the assumption that the first generation of converts were not “such good Christians,” but he could not say this even theoretically of the second and third generation if we judge by what he says of the offspring of Christians who converted to Islam. He evidently believed that for a conversion to take root, time is an essential element and that, in all cases, the resistance of converts to their new religion must sooner or later break down and disappear under the force of habit and education.

II. LOPE DE BARRIENTOS

The bishop of Cuenca, Don Lope de Barrientos, was one of the most colorful figures in the entourage of Juan II. Friar, theologian, and author of tracts on such subjects as sleep, divination and fortune, Barrientos was also a statesman of stature and a first-rate political tactician.16 A sincere patriot and confirmed royalist, he took a firm stand in support of Castile’s kings and courageously opposed the rapacious nobles who endangered the country s stability and security. The signal services he rendered to the crown won him some high administrative positions. He was one of the two chief counselors of Castile (in the last months ofjuan II) and, following that, chancellor of the kingdom (in the first years of Enrique IV). But on the whole, the kings made little use of Barrientos’s great political potential, possibly because the ruling courtiers were reluctant to have in their company a man who, according to Mariana, was one of the “most upright and most saintly” men. Perhaps the term “saintly” does not fit Don Lope, who, in struggling with rebels, was prepared to use questionable diplomatic tactics. But he was certainly filled with a passion for justice and for what he considered the common good. Moreover, his acute sense of fairness and keen observation made him a superb judge of men and affairs. This is why the views he expressed on the conversos are so important in our eyes. According to Padre Getino, Barrientos “boasted of having some blood of the Jewish race in his veins,”17 and in proof of this assertion Getino quotes a statement from Barrientos’ epistle to his nephew. The statement referred to, however, does not offer such proof. What it says is that the family of the Barrientos (not the bishop personally) should be glad and proud that “owing to you [i.e., the nephew] and other relatives of ours, we have them [i.e., the conversos of Jewish origin] in the ranks of the Barrientos family.”18 It is obvious that he would not have made such a statement had he himself been ofjewish or partlyjewish origin. He remembered, he said, talks that he had with his nephew on this matter, and that the latter told him that he (i.e., the nephew) felt within himself “both bloods or races, like a coat of mail with a tight-fitting jacket.”19 Commenting upon this recollection, Barrientos writes to his nephew: “. . . as indeed you are found to possess the qualities of both races, always well armed with courage [a gentile quality] and discretion [a Jewish quality], complementing each other.”20 Barrientos, then, speaks clearly in this passage not of his own blood, but of that of his nephew and of the latter’s characteristics, not of his; and if anything can be gathered from these statements about himself, it is that he was not ofjewish descent. But apart from these indications, we have Barrien-

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tos’ direct testimony about himself, from which, in our judgment, we can definitely gather that he was of gentile stock. For in one place he says that “in the ecclesiastical histories the name converso is used in reference to the gentiles, from whom we proceed [los gentiles do nos procedemos], when they came to the faith.”21 The phrase “do nos procedemos" was not needed for his argu¬ ment, which was taken from the Relator’s work and which, in its original form, did not contain of course such a remark. It was supposedly introduced casually, in passing, but undoubtedly not without intent. Barrientos must have been looking for an opportunity to discredit the rumors that Garcia and his followers were spreading about him—namely, that he belonged to a “Jewish family,” which could mean that he had Jews among his ancestors.22 That such rumors were spread may be gathered from Garcia’s Memorial, where the author cautions Prince Enrique not to listen to the counsel of the “bad friar” (el mal fraile)2i—a clear allusion to Barrientos (who was then the Prince’s counselor), which served as prelude to the additional warning that if Enrique did follow that advice and violate the oath he gave the city of Toledo, he would not be absolved of his sin “by the false bishop of Jewish descent or by any other prelate.”24 Barrientos was both a friar and a bishop, and in the context of the argument it could appear that Garcia referred to him by both titles, although by “false bishop” he might have meant another prelate—say, Alonso de Cartagena.25 Allusions such as this, however ambig¬ uous, about Barrientos’Jewish origin may have prompted the bishop to make the remark about his gentile ancestry. But there is an additional statement of Barrientos in the same document that leads us to the conclusion that he was an Old Christian. He objects to designate as conversos the sons or grandsons of converts from Judaism for the following two reasons: first, because they “know nothing ofjewish customs” (no sauen cosa alguna de los Judaicos usos)—an argument which he borrowed from the Relator; and second, “they are as distinct [from the Jews] as we are” (son en si tan diuersos [de los Judlos\ como nos).26 It is clear that by “nos” he refers here to his own group, i.e., the Old Christians, presented as disparate from the New. The work from which these passages are cited—i.e., Barrientos’ letter to his nephew—was, in fact, a pamphlet entitled: Against some sowers of discord with the nation of the converts from the people of Israel.22 It was written in Toledo, probably in November 1449, and there was little in it of Barrientos’ creation. Basically, it was a revised edition of the paper submitted to Barrientos by the Relator with the aim of convincing the Prince and his advisers of their need to take action against the Sentencia and of their duty to avoid any settlement with the Toledans without restoring the conversos to their full rights. The paper, however, was so structured that it could be of interest to the average reader and suitable for general circulation; and it stands to reason that the

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Relator, after learning of the bishop’s favorable view of his paper, suggested to him that he publish it in his own name, or use any part of it as he saw fit. It was of course important to the Marranos that their defense be undertaken by the famous Old Christian churchman. Barrientos complied with this wish, and issued the paper in his own name in the form of a letter to his nephew, an offspring of Old and New Christian intermarriage. But Barrientos introduced a number of changes in the Relator’s Instruc¬ tion. To be sure, he retained almost all the Relator’s arguments, but occasion¬ ally gave them a different twist by omitting or adding a few words here and there, or by his revision of the style. Occasionally, he somewhat broadened the discussion, so as to make a point clearer or more forceful, and in some instances he added informative material which is not found in the Instruction. What interests us in the bishop’s version are of course the changes he introduced in the original, and above all his omissions and additions. It is to the latter especially that the document owes its historical value. From the outset Barrientos directs his criticism at Garcia, to whom he attributes the major responsibility for the attacks upon the conversos. Whereas in the opening of his Instruction the Relator speaks, somewhat enigmatically, of the “second Haman” who persecuted the conversos, with¬ out indicating whether by that title he referred to Sarmiento or to Garcia, the bishop applies that appellation specifically to the latter, while Sarmiento is not mentioned even once in the entire discussion. Similarly, in contrast to the Relator, who vigorously demanded in his Instruction the restitution of the property stolen from the conversos28—an action for which Sarmiento was held accountable—the bishop passes in silence over this matter. Indubitably, this silence did not result from oversight but from overriding political con¬ siderations. In all likelihood, Barrientos’ revision of the Instruction was made after the Prince and his advisers had made up their minds that they should concentrate upon the elimination of the arch-inciter—Marquillos—whom they considered the spirit of the rebellious movement, and later try to get rid of Sarmiento by negotiations and concessions. One of these concessions, which should have served as inducement for Sarmiento to leave the city, was to let him depart with “all his possessions,” without forcing him to give an account of the properties expropriated from the citizens during his rule. As a member of the team that was charged with the task of negotiating with the rebels and the city’s leading circles, the bishop was no doubt bound by the strategy decided upon by the Prince.29 Accordingly, in the talk Barrientos had with Sarmiento prior to the latter’s departure from Toledo, we see him repeatedly put stress on the robberies which the rebel leader perpetrated in the city, hoping perhaps to move Sarmiento to offer the return of the stolen goods. Evidently, such an offer was not made, and Barrientos presented no formal demand concerning this mat-

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ter.30 His paper reflects this avoidance of action, especially when it fiercely attacked Marquillos both for the persecutions he initiated in some cities and for the racial theory he propagated. In all this Barrientos followed the line of argument presented by the Relator, striving to make it clear that Garcia’s theory, while constituting a criminal perversion of Christianity, was doubly criminal when applied to the converts from Judaism in Spain. Comparing the persecution conducted by the “second Haman” to that of the “bad Haman” in the days of King Ahasuerus,31 the Relator saw the common denominator of these persecutions in the fact that both were di¬ rected at “our race” (nuestro linaje). But the bishop was evidently thinking of another factor that triggered the attack in both cases: the high positions occupied by thejews in the courts of the Persian kings and those held by the conversos in the administration ofjuan II. However, to raise this issue now, he felt, would divert him from his main purpose, and therefore he made the following analogy, which merely hinted at his thoughts on the subject: King Darius, the son of Queen Esther, he said, “placed many of those Hebrews in many honorable positions (oficios) which, for divine reasons, they do not lack even today.”32 The analogy was obviously meant to imply that the issue of the public offices could not justify the actions of the “second Haman” any¬ more than it did those of the first. Marquillos, says the bishop, must have been blinded by the Devil when he failed to sense the groundlessness of his claims.33 And having made this concluding remark, he goes over from the similarity to the difference, which was far more important in his eyes. For “Haman persecuted Jews, and he [Marquillos] persecutes Christians; and not only in his own land, but also in foreign ones” (namely, the territories of other cities)—a persecution which “resulted in many deaths, robberies and great destructions.”34 Christians! This is how the bishop defines the conversos throughout the discussion, and, like the Relator, he too maintains that the grave persecution that had been launched against them threatens to undo the great work of conversion accomplished by the Church over many generations. But there is a broader approach here—a universal conception—which the Relator im¬ plied but did not state explicitly. We can readily notice these differences by comparing the remarks made on the subject by Fernan Diaz and the bishop: The Relator

Barrientos

And whether from this [i.e., the per¬

. .. for they [the persecutors] go not

secution of the conversos] has fol¬

only against those who are of God and

lowed ... a disservice to God our

came to His service, and against those

Lord, your grace can judge better

who aspire to come, but also against

than myself. For ... seeing how

the Faith itself and against its or¬

badly are treated those who came to

ders. [For] what will say those who

THE

6l4 ]

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II

our Holy Faith and those who de¬

remain [outside the Faith] and de¬

scended from them, the Jews and

sire [esperan] to come to it, when

others who are outside the Faith will

they see how maltreated are those

stop to be converted to it, . . . and

who did come to it and those who

thus, there is no doubt that some of

descended from them? ... I do not

them, especially those who are of

doubt that it occurs to some of them,

lesser knowledge and understand¬

and especially to those who little

ing, who came to Christianity from Ju¬

understand

daism

[que fueron en tiempo de el

other kingdoms and regions. And

Judaismo\, are [sometimes] stirred

not only to go [there], but also to

by the wish to go to the land of the

leave the Faith, for through it they

Moors and to other kingdoms, to

cannot fare well, and not even de¬

become Jews, saying that the faith is

fend themselves against the evil

of no use to them, and that they

doers.. . . [Indeed] I believe that the

cannot defend themselves with it

destruction of one race [generation]

against the evils . . .3S

will cause the stumbling of the

and

know, to go to

other, and so the world will come to its end [acaban'a].16

We can see that the bishop used the Relator’s argument precisely as the Relator wanted him to use it. He extracted the principle embodied in it by pointing out that the persecution of the conversos endangered the whole grand design of the Church to convert the world to Christianity. This, then, was not a Jewish issue, or one that concerned the conversos only. In fact, the words Jews and Jewish converts are not even mentioned in this connection. Clearly, Barrientos deliberately omitted here all the references tojews which are found in the Instruction. Instead, he preferred to speak generally of those who came to God and are of God, and those who had not yet come and will not come, if converts will be so treated. Obviously, the bishop wanted to stress that the persecutions of the Marranos would have the most serious repercussions, not only among the Jews, but also among the Moslems and the rest of non-Christian humanity. “I believe that the destruction of one race (generacion) will cause the stumbling of the other, and so the whole world would come to its end.” In other words, the persecution of the conversos obstructs the Church militant and prevents it from becoming the Church triumphant; it may cause the Church to lose the battle, and thereby lose the world. The warnings sounded by the Relator concerning the social upheaval that Spain could expect if Garda’s racial theory were to be promoted hit the mark. Not only did Barrientos present fully the Relator’s argument on this issue; he also strengthened it by indicating the force and speed with which

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the defamation of the nobility may spread. Thus, after mentioning the fa¬ mous houses of Spain, whom Marquillos harmed by his words and deeds, the bishop adds: “And not only [by the words and deeds of] Marquillos, but also by those of his partisans, from whom emanate many poisons and slanders both against God and against all temperance and virtue.”37 Obviously, he consid¬ ered the danger acute because the campaign of vilification was being carried on not by one man, but by a whole group—that of his followers—and thus the poisons which they spread may soon contaminate the entire social body of Spain. Barrientos accepts the Relator’s view concerning the Christian faithfulness of the conversos, but goes beyond him in his estimation of their religious devotion. He regards the conversos’ adherence to the faith in the face of the persecutions they suffer not only as a product of strong will and great patience (as does the Relator38), but as something bordering on the wondrous and heroic. He cannot appraise (or, as he puts it, understand) “what will¬ power is needed for them to be able or wish to do what every good Christian does.”39 It is not only their capacity to perform these deeds, but their desire to perform them that amazes him. And not only the newly converted them¬ selves, but also their offspring are to him a cause of great astonishment and admiration. “I do not know,” he says, “how the new convert and his descend¬ ants, when they see how they are treated by the Old Christians, can agree to remain in our Holy Faith [even] for one hour!”40 In this statement, too, we find proof that he was not of Jewish descent: only a gentile could speak like this! One sees here a greater preparedness to exonerate the deviators, the backsliders, than we have in the words of the Relator. That Barrientos was certain that the New Christians generally were behaving religiously as the Old Christians do, and not as secret Jews, is also indicated, among other things, by the changes he introduced in another crucial statement of the Relator. In referring to the descendants of the Marranos—“the sons and grandsons of converts” who “were born in Chris¬ tianity”—the Relator says of them, as we have indicated above, that they “know nothing ofjudaism, or of its rites.” Barrientos altered this statement— first by deleting the Relator’s assertion that they “know nothing ofjudaism” (he may have assumed, quite reasonably, that one may be a good Christian and still know something ofjudaism!), and then by exchanging the word “rite” (rito) for the word “practices” (usos), which embraced, besides the field of worship, also that of custom.41 It was here, he thought, that the real evidence lay! For a large body of men may become familiar with the rites and customs of any religion only by following them in practice; and thus by stating that the Marranos were ignorant of the Jewish usages, he indicated that they did not follow them either. However, to support this implication, and make absolutely clear where the Marranos stood religiously, Barrientos added the

6 i 6 ]

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important observation that “they (namely, the conversos of the second and third generations) are as diverse [from the Jews] as we [the Old Christians] are.”42 Since there was no room for differentiation between the Old and New Christians, there was obviously no room for religious persecution. Of special interest are his remarks on the 6yth decree of the Fourth Toledan Council, which prohibits “those who are of the Jews” (hi qui ex Iudeis sunt) from assuming public offices in Christendom. As we have noted, the anti-conversos put much emphasis on this prohibition, which they inter¬ preted as relating to all converts to Christianity from Jewish stock down to the fourth or fifth generation, regardless of their religious behavior. Accord¬ ing to Barrientos, however, the phrase hi qui ex Iudeis sunt referred, indeed, to converts from Judaism, but only to those who relapsed into their former faith. This, as we have seen, was also the interpretation given the decree by Cartagena and most of the former authoritative commentators.43 But Bar¬ rientos rendered this interpretation more precise by attaching to it an impor¬ tant limitation which is not present in the earlier comments. According to him, hi qui ex Iudeis sunt (those who are of the Jews) meant those who came from the Jews—i.e., who were converted themselves—and not their descend¬ ants, including their sons who, as he put it, “were born in the faith”—i.e., in Christianity—and hence came from Christians44 But since the descendants did not come from Jevos, the 65th decree of the Fourth Toledan Council did not refer to them at all. By making this distinction, Barrientos excluded the sons and grandsons of the original converts—i.e., the great majority of the group—from the application of that decree. Nor could it be automatically applied to the rest of the conversos either. As indicated above, it referred only to those who factually regretted their conversion. How large was the number of such regretters among the conversos, ac¬ cording to Barrientos? Judging by his astonishment at the steadfastness in the faith displayed by the “newly converted,” it would seem that he considered their number to be small. And this is also indicated by his remark that “some” (algunos) of the conversos who “come to the faith” consider the proposition of abandoning Christianity, because, as it appears to them, they can gain nothing from it—“not even defend themselves against the evildoers.”4S But to “consider” does not mean to have “decided,” or to have actually “de¬ viated” from the faith. It was inevitable, in Barrientos’ opinion, that “consid¬ erations” of this nature should occur to “some” under the impact of the persecution; yet he did not exclude the possibility that backsliders may exist also in normal times. All Christian groups include “good, common and bad” Christians46—namely, all grades of devotion to the faith—and he sees no reason why the New Christians should be excepted from this rule. Conse¬ quently, wherever a sinner is found, he should be punished according to the laws. But the laws do not say that this punishment “calls for insurrections on

THE

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the part of some Christians against others; nor do they sanction the activity of slanderers, plotters, seekers of robberies and deaths, and the depopulation of towns and cities.”'47 This is a clear indication that, according to Barrientos, the rebels’ religious accusations against the conversos were, in the main, false and libelous; they were “slanders,” invented to serve their plots; for what the rebels sought, as Barrientos saw it, was not to provide defense of the faith, but to satisfy their criminal urges—i.e., to rob the Marranos, kill them, and oust them from their settlements, which in consequence would remain depopu¬ lated. Barrientos adds emphasis, and penetrating insight, to the Relator’s asser¬ tion about the main motive of the perpetrators of the aforesaid outrages. It is “vile greed, jealousy and ill will,” the “wicked and bad roots of our life,” which are nourished, in this case, by the wrong notion that “the world is being given more to those than to the others, and that the latter are impris¬ oned while the former are free.”48 In other words, the cause of the whole tumult was passion for earthly goods, coupled with the belief that these goods were not fairly divided. The New Christians attained a greater share of them than the Old because the latter were allegedly “imprisoned” (i.e., prevented from exercising their full capacities) while the Marranos were “free” to do so. Here we have in a nutshell the anti-Marranos’ view of the conversos’ economic position and the obstacles they put in the way of the Old Christians to gain their rightful share. Barrientos considers the view preposterous. The world was not given to the New Christians more than to the Old ones, and the latter were not imprisoned and prevented from following their pursuits to the best of their ability. It is greed that distorts the judgment of the evil-doers. “In truth they are imprisoned,” but not the way they think they are. “Imprisoned in the infernal chains,” says Barrientos, “are those who cannot eat except from rapine, and those who cannot think except of robbery, and those who cannot conceive of being Christian except through evil talk, evil action and evil living (mal vivir.J”49 “Like the Christians who became Moors and turned their lances against the faith” are these rabble-rousers who attack the conversos.50 The Christian converts to Islam did not assail the Christians out of zeal for their new faith but out of their contempt for Christianity and their wrath over their former fellow Christians. They turn to the faith, from it and against it, like the shuttle of the weaver, as if the whole thing was a game. It is indeed a game of callousness and evil played by those “who make riots, call others Marranos, and justify themselves.”51 Barrientos clearly ascribes to the rebels not religious but the lowest kind of motives: callousness, rascality, and hypocrisy, which serve their attempt to cover their crimes by the sanctimoniousness of religious zeal. Finally, it is proper to point out that unlike the Relator, Barrientos speaks

6 i 8 ]

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openly in defense of the converso officials, praising the “temperance and disposition” [for their functions] that “many of them” exhibited in both the ecclesiastic and royal estates52, and more than the Relator, he censures and condemns both Marquillos and his followers. As for Marquillos, he calls him not only a “prevaricator and public offender,” but also a “man of low blood and the manners of a shepherd, notorious for his corrupt life and bad reputa¬ tion, touched by a hundred thousand crimes,”53 and altogether an “evil-doer and a heretic ”54 And as for his followers, he directs at them, apart from the harsh criticisms we have already cited, the accusation that they were the source of “many venomous sayings and maledictions against God and against every temperance and virtue.” “It would have been better for such people, he adds, “to dig, plow, gather vine shoots and do similar work, just as their fathers, grandfathers and ancestors did, than to use their sacrilegious and wicked tongues against the divine lineage, and thereby injure and defile themselves with their envy and cupidity.”55 The impudence of the low classes, and the foul language they used in criticizing the conversos and their supporters, had evidently shocked and outraged the bishop. At the opening of his pamphlet, as we have seen, he attributed their conduct to the incite¬ ment of one man—Marquillos. Nevertheless, both he and the conversos could not fail to realize that, however great was the share of Marcos Garda in promoting the anti-converso movement, the ideas he espoused did not belong to him alone. This was one reason, we should add, why they did not die with him, but kept gaining followers and supporters among the country’s population, and by no means in the low classes only.

III. ALONSO DIAZ DE MONTALVO

Alonso Diaz de Montalvo, the well-known Castilian jurist, was another Old Christian who took the side of the conversos in their struggle against the Sentencia. Member of a family whose hidalgula could be traced back to the late nth century,56 Montalvo was born toward 1405 in Arevalo, where his family had lived since 1088, when the town was reconquered from the Moors. Early in his childhood, he moved with his parents to Huete (in the province of Cuenca),57 and here Montalvo resided off and on for the greater part of his long life. Both in Arevalo and Huete his father was engaged as a legal consultant,58 and it was probably from him that Montalvo inherited his interest in and gift for jurisprudence. He studied law and theology at Sala¬ manca, where he may have met Lope de Barrientos, the incumbent professor of theology, and perhaps it was Barrientos who put him in touch with Fernan Diaz de Toledo, the Relator, who was one of the leading jurists of his time. Like Barrientos,59 Diaz formed a high opinion of Montalvo’s juridical abili¬ ties, while Montalvo’s own attitude toward Fernan Diaz was one of lasting admiration.60 It was no doubt thanks to these connections that Montalvo was appointed judge in several Castilian towns and corregidor in Baeza and Murcia61; and it was due to his reputation as jurist that the Relator asked him to join the group of counselors who met in Fuensalida in May 1453 to pass judgment on Alvaro de Luna.62 Following Alvaro’s death and the appointment of Barrientos as first arbiter of the administration, Montalvo became governor of the Order of Santiago, oidor of the king and member of the Royal Council.63 Retaining these posi¬ tions during Enrique IV’s reign, Montalvo also served in Enrique’s adminis¬ tration as asistente of Toledo (in 1461 and again in 1463) and governor of the Order of Santiago64 In 1476, under the Catholic Kings, he resigned from his functions at Court and retired to his home in Huete, where he intended to devote himself to the completion of his studies on various juridical subjects. In 1480 he added to these undertakings the preparation of a corpus of the royal ordinances of Castile—a task with which he was entrusted by King ferdinand and the Cortes of Toledo (1480) and which took him four years to complete.65 He died in 1499. In the following year there appeared in Salamanca Montalvo’s commentary on the Fuero Real, his most important juridical work, in which he incorporated his treatise on the converso question written in 1449.66 Both by virtue of its author and its date, the treatise must be of special interest to anyone pursuing the fortunes of the conversos in the middle of the 15th century. But before reviewing it, we must clear up a certain doubt raised

620]

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by Fermi'n Caballero, Montalvo’s learned biographer. Caballero believed that the name Diaz, which forms part of our jurist’s surname, may have come to him, or rather to his father (Gonzalo Diaz de Montalvo), through marriage with the family of the Relator, Fernan Diaz de Toledo.67 If this were true, it could help explain Montalvo’s strong defense of the conversos and make the work he wrote on their behalf another converso apology. The conjecture, however, lacks a sound basis, and as Caballero himself admitted, he found no concrete evidence to support it.68 It is certainly unnecessary and far-fetched to assume (in order to explain the name Diaz in his surname) that Montalvo’s father married into the Relator’s family, when Arevalo was the seat of the Diazes who, together with the Montalvos, were one of the six most illustrious noble families of that town. Also for another reason it is hard to accept Caballero’s conjecture. Montalvo tells us that he wrote his tract on the conversos at the order of King Juan II.69 However, if he had been a converso, there would hardly have been any need for the King to impose on him such a task. An appeal by the Relator and the bishop of Burgos, it seems, would have been enough, in that state of emergency, to induce Montalvo to write the needed tract. Nor would his work appear so vital as to warrant the King’s intervention. After all, New Christian opinions had already been written by Don Alonso de Cartagena and Don Alvarez de Toledo, and another one was being prepared at the time by Cardinal Torquemada.70 Evidently, the Relator looked for a wow-converso jurist who might substantiate the converso claims. It occurred to him that Montalvo, who in all probability revealed to him his views on the Toledan events, could offer that important public support; but apparently he was not at all certain that Montalvo would agree to be involved. In order not to risk a rejection, he asked the King to suggest to Montalvo that he write an opinion on the Sentencia-Estatuto, being sure that Montalvo would not decline the King’s offer or procrastinate in fulfilling the assignment. This is, we believe, how the Old Christian Montalvo came to write the tract.71 It may be assumed that, when he wrote his opinion, Montalvo was not entirely a free agent. He was a royal official (in 1448 he was corregidor of Murcia) and he knew full well that his advancement in the administration depended on the goodwill of his friends at Court, among whom the Relator was perhaps the most important. One may further assume that as a practical man, who had never exhibited special courage,72 Montalvo may have chosen to offer a judgment on the conversos that would please his royal patrons. 1 his was, after all, the kind of stand he took during the trial of Alvaro de Luna. Nevertheless, it must be recognized that Montalvo was jealous of his reputa¬ tion as a jurist and, when his vital interests were not jeopardized, protected it as much as he could. Thus, many years after the trial of Alvaro and after the death of the Relator and Kingjuan II, he sought to correct, or compensate

THE

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for, the moral weakness and servility he had exhibited during that trial by expressing a sharp opinion against Alvaro’s execution in his commentary on the PartidasP He could as easily have shelved his statement on the conver¬ ses, rather than include it in his gloss on the Fuero Real, which appeared during the height of the Inquisition’s activity and certainly could not add to his popularity.74 He may have also revised his essay, so as to render it less offensive to the anti-converso point of view. Nevertheless, he did nothing of the kind. Consequently, we conclude that insofar as the conversos were concerned, Montalvo’s published judgment agreed with his beliefs. There is no doubt that before writing his paper, Montalvo discussed its theme and content with both the Relator and the bishop of Burgos. Several ideas in Montalvo’s work are also found in the Instruction of the Relator and in Cartagena’s Defensorium. Even the title of his tract, “The Unity of the Faithful,”75 is similar to that of Cartagena’s work: “A Defense of Christian Unity.” It is possible, therefore, that some of his arguments were projections of the thinking of his converso counselors. On the whole, however, Mon¬ talvo’s work is an independent creation, a product of his own inquiry into the subject and his own conclusions. It is highly technical in style and presenta¬ tion, consisting for the most part of references and quotations; nevertheless, it conveys a clear message and a set of strong arguments. Montalvo begins his criticism of the Toledans with sharp rebukes of their views on the conversos.76 From his summary of these views, it appears clear that the Toledans considered all New Christians “damned forever”—that is, incapable of becoming true Christians and therefore utterly unqualified to assume public office or ecclesiastic authority.77 In Montalvo’s judgment, such a notion is grotesque since it is opposed to Christian doctrine and to the most evident facts. For the conversos are sincere Christians, truly converted to the faith of Christ; and any attempt, such as that of the Toledans, to make these “faithful” appear as “infidels” is “detestable” and, in fact, “heretical.”78 As Montalvo sees it, the Toledan innovators, who seek to separate the Old Christians from the New, hark back to the enmity that in ancient times divided Jews from gentiles—an enmity for which there is no room in the Church. That enmity stemmed from the differences in worship and religious belief between the two peoples. But Christ called to Himself both the Jews and the gentiles, and those who came to Him accepted His teachings and abandoned their own faiths and forms of worship. With no religious barrier between them, the old enmity naturally disappeared, and all faithful were united under Christ’s banner. This was, indeed, Christ’s objective, and any¬ one who acts against it—who seeks to introduce, with brazen falsehoods, a religious division in Christian ranks—must be considered a schismatic.79 But not only religiously can no difference be maintained between converts to Christianity from the Israelites and the gentiles. Also when viewed from

6 2 2 ]

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other standpoints, they cannot be seen as disparate. Thus, if their ancestry is conceived in a broad sense, they do not differ in their ancestry, either; for they are all “sons of Abraham,” either from Ishmael, the son of the female slave, or from Esau, otherwise known as Edom, or from Jacob his brother, who is also called Israel.”80 Nor do they differ in blame for Christ’s Passion. “For although thejews unjustly accused Him, the Gentiles, who had jurisdic¬ tion and power (jurisdictio et imperium), condemned Christ to death per¬ versely and wickedly.” Moreover, both Jews and gentiles

derided and

insulted Him, as one can read in the story of the Passion”; and it was because of the ignorance of both thejews and gentiles that members of both groups crucified Him. Indeed, the Lord made this clear during His Passion when, hanging on the Cross, he prayed for his crucifiers: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23.34).81 And just as Jews and gentiles do not differ in the responsibility for the Passion, they do not differ in the benefits which the Passion conferred on them. For Christ suffered for the whole of mankind and opened the doors of salvation to the entire human race. And what was meant by such terms as mankind or the human race was not only the generation of the Passion but all the generations to come. This is apparent from Acts 2.39: For the promise is to you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.” And anyone who denies this major Christian postulate is clearly a heretic.82 Nor is there any difference between the converts from Judaism and those from gentilehood insofar as the impact of baptism is concerned. For they are all freed by baptism from their individual sins, and are all reborn and receive God’s grace. Has not the Apostle said in I Corinthians (12.13): “For we are all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or gentiles”? And has he not said the same in Galatians (3.27—29): “For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Greek, nor Jew etc. ? It is groundless, therefore—and indeed nonsensical—to claim, as the Toledans do, that there are two kinds of baptism, one which was provided in ancient times and one which lost much of its original effect, such as was administered to the New Christians. The Apostle exposes this absurdity when he says in Ephesians (4.4—6): “There is one body, one spirit, one Lord, one faith, one baptism,”83 Obviously, we are all called to the same baptism, just as we are called to the same faith and the same God. Hence, “the effect of the power of Holy baptism is as great today as it was in the time of Peter, the first of the Apostles ... and to assert otherwise is a manifest heresy.”84 Montalvo also touches on another reason given by the Toledans for their differentiation between the Old Christians and the New. They say that those who came recently to the faith cannot claim the same rights as those who joined it earlier, since the latter deserve a more elevated status. But that this

THE

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argument is false is evident from the teaching of Christ Himself For “the Lord gave the same amount of pay to those who came late to work in His vineyard as to those who came early.” Hence, “the New are being saved equally with the Old without any difference.”85 The same is indicated also by the epistle that Peter addressed to the newcomers to the faith from the “strangers” who were scattered in various countries. They evidently came to Christ after many Jews had already come to Him and constituted the major¬ ity of the Church. And yet he designated those newcomers with the same titles that were used to describe the original members: “a chosen race, a royal priesthood and a holy nation” (I Peter 2.9—10), all of which indicates that they received equal faith with the Old believers, were raised to the latter’s ele¬ vated status, and regarded as their equals in every other respect.86 But apart from refuting the above contention, which posits differences between the Jewish and gentile converts, Montalvo took up the more radical charge that Israel was under a divine damnation, which excludes it from Christian salvation altogether, and therefore its so-called converts to Chris¬ tianity cannot be compared to true converts from the gentiles in any respect and in any degree. Those who argued thus made much of the passage in Deuteronomy 32, in which Moses spoke harshly of the Jews, of a passage in Paul s epistle to Titus (1.4—11), in which the Apostle rebuked Jewish converts, and, above all, of Psalm 95. 10—11, in which God swore never to bring Israel to “His rest.” Montalvo confutes each of these contentions. Paul’s castigations ofjewish converts to Christianity in Titus 1 were directed, says Montalvo, against those of their number who departed from the right way—i.e., who became bad converts—but he also highly praised the good ones among them, as one can see from his epistle to the Colossians (4.10-11), where he says of a number of converts from Judaism: “These only are my fellow workers unto the Kingdom of God which have been a comfort unto me.” As for the passage in Psalm 95, Montalvo says that in his epistle to the Hebrews (caps. 3-4), the Apostle has already explained its true meaning when he said that it referred to those Hebrews who died in the desert because of their incredulity; it did not refer to the believers among them, either in that generation or in the coming ones. The believers were destined to enter God’s “rest,” as Paul himself states in that discussion. Finally, as for the chastisements of Moses (in Deut. 32), he indeed reproached the Jews for their sins, but he also made it known that God loved them as a father; and later, before his death, Moses blessed Israel, completing his blessing with the words: “Blessed are thou, Israel! What nation is like unto you, saved in God!” (Deut. 33-29).87 Thus, the authorities cited by the Toledans to prove that Israel was damned offer no evidence to that effect. On the contrary, both the Old and the New Testaments contain many definite and unambiguous assurances that Israel will be “saved,” which means of course converted to Christ. Isaiah

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prophesied this when he said: “Israel has been saved in the Lord, with an eternal salvation” (45.17), and the Apostle said it in Romans 11.26. This is also the formal belief of the Church which is shared by all good Christians. When the Cortes of Alcala de Henares (1348) decreed that the Jews could buy land in Spain, it justified that decree by referring to the prophecies that “the Jews were to be converted and be saved.”88 In fact, Montalvo states, the salvation of the Jews has not remained a mere promise. Many Israelites experienced it in the past, and it is being fulfilled daily in the present.89 Having settled these theological questions, Montalvo felt free to come to grips with the practical side of the problem that confronted him. Since the New Christians “do not dilfer from the Old ones either in faith or in salvation or in any other thing” that concerns their religious condition, wherein can possibly lie the justification for discriminating against them in civil life? Could their national or racial origin, which is different from that of the Old Christians, be the justifying cause? Montalvo rejects both possibilities as incompatible with Christian law and teachings. As for nationhood, Christianity does not see in national differences any reason for preference or rejection. God entrusted the keys of the Kingdom not to an ultramontane or citramontane person, but to a Galilean; and Pope Evaristus was the son of a Jew who belonged to the Greek nation. Similarly, race is not a yardstick for moral judgment to Christianity. “Jephthah,” said Jerome, “who is counted by the Apostle among the holy men, was the son of a harlot,” and Esau, the son of Rebecca and Isaac, who were obviously God-fearing people, was “rough in body and in soul, like good wheat which degenerated into wild oats and darnel.” Moreover, Jerome makes a cardinal statement that negates the value of both race and nation. “Our Lord Jesus Christ,” he says, “wanted to be born not only from an alien (i.e., the Moabite Ruth), but also from an adulterous mixture (i.e., Tamar and Judah),”90 which shows that origins should not enter the evaluation of one’s person. The obvious conclusion that must be drawn from all this with respect to the conversos is: the New Christians should not be rejected by the Old because they stem from the “Israelitic nation” and an unfaithful people. They should be judged on their own merits only. As for the merits of the conversos, Montalvo’s views are not subject to doubt. “These are people,” he says, “who came from a great tribulation” and “washed their garments white with the blood of the lamb.” Montalvo wishes to indicate by these words that the group he referred to (the converts from “that nation”) is not only marked by its evident faithfulness, but also by its high moral standards. This is why there emerged from its ranks in our times,” as in the past, many “virtuous” and “pious” prelates, who were approved for their positions not only by their learning, but also by their way of life.91 And why should such people be denied public offices? Could there be any other reason for this discrimination save the fact that they are consid-

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ered aliens? But the “divine moral law, which is immutable” stipulates clearly in Exodus 12.48—49: “And when a stranger shall sojourn within thee . . . one law shall be to him that is home-born and unto the stranger that sojourns among you.” The same is also stated in Exodus 22.20: “And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not do him wrong.” He “shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and thou shall love him as thyself.” This agrees also with what the Lord said through Ezekiel (47.21—22) with regard to the division of the land: “The strangers that sojourn among you, who shall beget children among you, shall be unto you as the home-born among the children of Israel” and “they shall divide the inheritance with you in the midst of the tribes of Israel” Therefore, if the Lord wanted the alien and the stranger who comes to the faith to be received and be counted among the sons of Israel, why do these schismatics condemn him to be separated from the company of the faithful and thereby divide the unity of the faith; and why, “while God commanded that he be loved, they hate him, when they are to hate not people but their sins only?”92 This is of course a rhetorical question. Montalvo has no doubt about the answer; but before stating it expressis verbis, he finds it necessary to dispute the remaining reasons offered by the Toledans in justification of their stand. And first he touches on the question of the “Judaizers,” which was made so much of by the Toledans. Like other apologists for the conversos, he admits that “some people of the Israelitic nation may fall into some heresy or superstition,” but—again like those apologists—he argues that such lapses should not serve as reason to label the whole group as heretical. Had this been the right attitude to take, all Christian societies would have been viewed as heretical, since all of them contained heretics from time to time. “We should not abandon the Lord’s threshing floor,” he says, “because of the chaff; we should not break the divine net and lose all the fishes caught in it because some of those fishes were found to be bad.”93 The argument seems to indicate that the phenomenon he had in mind—or rather the development he considered possible—could involve only a fringe of the Marrano group (the “chaff;” the occasional “bad fishes”), but it also indicates that he sought to refute the opposite view held by the Toledans. The Toledans “virtually assert,” he says, “that if some part of the Israelitic race appears to have reverted to the Jewish rites, or relapsed into heresy,” one may gather from it that “all the members of that race followed the same tendency.”94 It is here, in the attempt to stamp all new Christians as heretics and Judaizers, that Montalvo, like Torquemada, sees clear proof of the worthlessness of the Toledans’ accusations. For what they claim is a manifest untruth, denied by all that is known and observed. Montalvo then turns to the legal authorities on which the Toledans base their claims. The reference is to three enactments that deal specifically with

626]

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converts from Judaism: one civil, one canonic, and the third

a royal privi¬

lege given to Toledo by King Alfonso VII. The civil law is included in the 7th century Spanish code (Liber Judicum), which states that “Jews, whether baptized or not, are forbidden to testify against Christians.”95 Montalvo objects to any reliance on this law, both because it is lacking in authority and because it is not observed in Spain; it has been superseded by a contrary law (Partidas, vii, tit. 24, 1.6.), which does not even mention it. But even if that law were authoritative, it means by “baptized Jews” false converts, who blaspheme God and guard the Jewish rites, which is clear when it says: “if he who lies” and acts deceitfully against the faith.”96 The canon law referred to is the sixty-fifth decree of the Fourth Toledan Council, which prohibits “Jews, or those who are of the Jews, to assume public office.”97 In Montalvo’s judgment, any way it is interpreted, this law does not speak of Christians or sincere converts and therefore cannot apply to the conversos.98 And as for the royal law—the Alfonsine privilege—it must be rejected, to begin with, because it leans on the civil and canon laws just mentioned, which are not applicable to the conversos at all; second, because it was contradicted by the laws of the Partidasy and third, because it was entirely annulled by the privilege granted by King Enrique III to the effect that “none of the faithful who has been recently converted be repelled under this kind of pretext [i.e., theirjewish origin] from public offices or from other privileges that are enjoyed by other Christians.’99 It follows that the Toledans had nothing to rely on in advocating their policy against the conversos except heretical notions, inapplicable laws, and libelous accusations. It is with such means, however, that they are conducting a riotous, defamatory and ruinous campaign against a group which seeks only to live in peace and work hard for commendable objectives. What is it, then, that moves these unruly people to make such groundless claims, create such a turbulence, and provoke so much hostility against the conversos? Mon¬ talvo’s answer is unequivocal: it is their great hatred of the conversos

a

hatred kindled by jealousy of the gains, social and economic, made by the New Christians. “Blinded by cupidity and full of greed and avarice,” they seek to destroy the conversos economically, so that they may have no partners in the country’s mundane goods; and “inflamed by their desire for power” and by the “arrogance of domination,” they oppose the conversos’ occupancy of offices, so as to have no “partakers” in the governance of the republic.100 They realize of course that there is no moral basis for either their intentions or their claims. But in a “sacrilegious and reckless daring’ they cover their jealousy, hate and malice with a pretended zeal for the faith. In fact, they have no such zeal at all; “they lie when they claim to be Christians,

THE

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[627

for actually they are enemies of Christianity—“wolves” seeking to tear the faith apart and thrive on its torn pieces.101 Montalvo’s opinion of the Toledans betrays no sign of doubt or ambiguity. In his book, the Toledans are plainly “wicked,” “crooked,” “ignorant,” “cor¬ rupt,” and “sick”—sick in their desire to destroy the conversos, whom they see as standing in their way. To him, they provide a spectacle of false Christians, who accuse sincere neophytes as false converts, and of heretics, who deny almost every Christian doctrine and accuse true believers of heresy. We have seen how, in his opening remarks on the Toledans, he presents each of their views as heretical; and this is what he stresses again and again in his summarized opinion about them. “They are heretics,” he says, “because they understand Scripture in a sense different from what the Holy Spirit tells us and because they teach a perverse dogma against the faith.” They are heretics because they persist in following “pestilential and deadly doctrines” and because they “try to defend their false and crooked judgments with pertinacious animosity and audacious presumption.” Above all, they are heretics because they are schismatics. God, however, hates him who sows discord among brothers (Proverbs 6. 14-iy), and “brothers are all Chris¬ tians.”102 Montalvo, however, does not limit his criticisms to these sharp denuncia¬ tions. He also proposes a counteractivity to be undertaken by the leaders of the Church. “In order that the above detestable and execrable errors be not propagated further, and the hearts of the faithful be not perverted,” the prelates, he says, are necessarily in duty bound to extirpate those errors from the orbit of the Church. He understands that this goal will not be reached easily, without undergoing a violent public storm. But he sees no way of avoiding this hardship. He communicates his thoughts about what should be done by citing Jeremiah 23. 19—20: “Behold, a whirlwind of the Lord is gone forth in fury; it shall fall grievously upon the head of the wicked; the anger of the Lord shall not pass until He have executed and performed the thoughts of his heart.”103 When Montalvo wrote these words in the summer of 1449, he must have been sure that this was the course that Spain’s ecclesiastic leadership would take—obviously, with the full support of the King. Things did not turn out as he expected. Fifty years later, just before his death, when his work was about to be submitted for publication, he evidently did not change his mind about the course his country should, have taken in dealing with the anticonverso movement.

VII. The Historiographic Evidence: The Cronicas of Juan II Except for the major converso apologies and the main anti-Marrano writings, the 15th-century Castilian chronicles produced before the founding of the Inquisition are no doubt the most important set of sources for the study of various fundamental aspects of the Marrano problem in Spain. Not only do they help remove doubts raised by the controversy over the Marranos’ Christianity, but they clarify some crucial stages in the conflict between the conversos and their foes. Above all, they help establish the truth about the positions the Marranos took on many issues and understand the motives that impelled them to use the tactics they employed in repelling attacks. Of the extant six chronicles of the period of Juan II, one mentions the conversos only in isolated places which have already been dealt with in the foregoing. We refer to the history ofjuan ITs reign written by Alvar Garda de Santa Marfa. Another, the Refundicion de la Cronica del Halconero, does not deal with the conversos at all. The following discussion, therefore, will be limited to the remarks concerning the Marranos in the remaining four chronicles, beginning with the Cronica del Halconero, which is the oldest of them all.

I. THE HALCONERO

I

The Cronica del Halconero de Juan II—or, as it is commonly called, the Halconero—was written by Pero Carrillo de Huete, official chronicler of the realm, who was also Chief Falconer (Halconero mayor) ofjuan II. As a member of the King’s inner circle, Carrillo was well informed on all major develop¬ ments in the kingdom of Castile. For this reason the information he imparts must be considered firsthand, and his account gains added credence from his habit of recording events as they occurred. The source of his strength was also that of his weakness. As Court chroni¬ cler and the king’s confidant, Carrillo could not help giving an account which was slanted in favor of the King and his minister. Preceded by Alvar Garcia de Santa Marfa, who served as Court chronicler until 1435,1 Carrillo was appointed to the post at the height of Alvaro de Luna’s career. No such sensitive and vital position would have been entrusted at the time to any

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[ 629

person without the consent, and probably the choice, of the powerful Consta¬ ble. This leads us to the conclusion that Alvaro de Luna regarded Carrillo as his actual or potential partisan. Nevertheless, within the bounds of his loyalties, Carrillo tried to stick to the facts and compose as truthful an account as possible. It was his habit to present both sides of a case and accompany each claim with supporting documents. He generally allowed the facts to speak for themselves, but occasionally felt impelled to express an opinion; and his judgment, on the whole, was fair and sound. He was a straightforward, common-sense man, not cunning but far from naive. He knew where evil and ambition lay, and he would not be deceived by the noble motives with which they were often camouflaged. Such is our impression of this man who left us his Cronica de Juan II. Unfortunately, his work has not reached us in its original form. Each of its extant versions seems to differ greatly from the original because of editorial deletions and additions. The version that is the subject of this discussion seems to be closest to the original2; and the same goes for the evidence it contains about the conversos. Although Carrillo’s story of the reign includes the period covered by his predecessor, that is, the years 1420-1435, we find nothing in that part that seems to have any bearing upon the lives or problems of the conversos, save their mention (in a document cited by the author) as objects of a massacre (planned but not executed) in the aborted rebellion of Count Fadrique of Aragon.3 In his annals of the period 1435-1448, Carrillo does not mention the conversos at all. But substantial data about them we encounter when we come to the rebellion of 1449. The Halconero, however, presents these data in a peculiar manner. In describing Sarmiento’s rule of Toledo, he tells us that the persecution then launched in the city was directed against those who were opposed to Sarmiento, his plans and his authority. It therefore appears as a personal perse¬ cution—i.e., motivated by Sarmiento’s personal interests—although justified by a political excuse—namely, by the claim that the people he punished were averse to the city’s struggle for its liberties and thus placed themselves in the position of traitors. Not by a single word does the Cronica suggest that the chief victims of Sarmiento’s reign of terror were New Christians; nor does it hint in any way that a religious reason was behind the persecution. In discussing the expulsions that occurred later, when the King was approach¬ ing Toledo with his army, he says that Sarmiento “decided to oust from the city a large number of people who were suspect in his eyes”4—that is, suspect as liable to act for the King against the rebels’ interests. Obviously, the chronicler suggests that by expelling them, Sarmiento sought to strengthen

630 ]

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his hold on the city; and thus the expulsions, like the earlier punishments, stemmed from a political motive. Here, too, we have no inkling that most or any of the expelled were Marranos. When the Marranos are at last mentioned in the Halconero, it is not in the chronicler’s narrative of the events but in the text of Sarmiento’s Petition to the King, which the chronicler reproduced in its entirety.5 This document, as we have noted, is replete with complaints and accusations against the Marranos.6 But it is strange, to say the least, that prior to presenting it, the chronicler does not give us even a hint as to the part that the Marrano issue played in the rebellion. Thus all the charges against the Marranos, which form a major part of the Petition, appear to the reader entirely unrelated to the chronicler’s preceding account. Nor does the chronicler comment on these charges following the presentation of that document. He simply pro¬ ceeds with his narration of events: the King’s refusal to accept Sarmiento’s demands; the approach of Prince Enrique, the King’s son, to Toledo; the lifting of the siege by the royal army; and the agreement reached by Sarmiento and the Prince, according to which the latter and his men were allowed to enter the city. The Halconero does not present the text of this agreement but a summary of its main terms. Four of these terms relate to the conversos, but their special place in the relevant events is more concealed than revealed. According to the Halconero, the agreement stated that “all the goods which rightly or wrongly he [Sarmiento] has taken and robbed from the citizens of Toledo would remain in the possession of Pero Sarmiento and would not be demanded from him at any time.”7 Clearly, the agreement between the rebel and the Prince did not state that Sarmiento “robbed” the citizens of Toledo and that the Prince agreed to this blatant and admitted illegality. The word “robbed” was simply added here by the author, or editor, of this report. Secondly, according to the Halconero, the agreement stipulated that “the deaths, expulsions, evils and harms that he [Sarmiento] caused the citizens of Toledo would be approved and at no time be called to account for.”s Again, it is clear that the word “evils” (males) was not in the original formula¬ tion and that it, too, was inserted here by Carrillo or by the editor of his manuscript. The third paragraph of those we referred to states that the conversos who had been ousted from the city must not be allowed to return to it; that never would they be restored to the offices (and positions of honor) they had occupied; and furthermore, that these offices and positions would be held by Sarmiento’s appointees.9 Outside Sarmiento’s Petition to the King, this is the only place in this cronica where the conversos are explicitly mentioned as related to the Toledan affair. Judging by Carrillo’s habits of reporting, it is likely that, in the original

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31

version of his cronica, he presented the agreement between the city and the Prince in its full textual form. Had he chosen to summarize its contents, he would have followed the data he found in the original and would not have injected his own opinions into the summary of the text. Nor would he have any reason to omit all mention of the conversos in the rest of the narrative, as if they did not constitute a paramount issue in the Toledan quarrel, and as if they were not the main subject of the deaths, expulsions and expropria¬ tions he referred to. It is also most unlikely that he would totally ignore events that shook the country and were on everybody’s lips, such as the enactment of the Sentencia-Estatuto, or the unprecedented trials ofjudaizers in Toledo which ended with burnings at the stake. We must therefore conclude that the extant Halconero, or rather its account of the Toledan outbreak, was the work of a Marrano reviser or abbreviator who believed that it was in the interest of his group to summarize Carrillo’s account as he did. Evidently, what he sought to emphasize was that Sarmiento was not only a rebel but a robber, and that the Marranos were persecuted not as Marranos, but simply as loyal subjects of the Crown among the other loyalist elements in the city. They were persecuted for their position in the political conflict, or rather for being opposed to Sarmiento, together with other Toledan citizens who were likewise persecuted for no other reason. Consequently, we might conclude from this presentation that there was no special movement or drive in the city against the conversos as such. It cannot be assumed, of course, that the chronicler Carrillo, who knew very well what was happening in Toledo, wished to lead his reader to this conclusion. Yet this is briefly the position of the Halconero, or rather of its available text. We shall now see whether the same attitude prevails in another version of Carrillo’s cronica that has come down to us in abridged form.

II. THE ABBREVIATION

I

This other version has been preserved in a single manuscript designated by Carriazo the Abbreviation,10 A careful comparison between this manuscript and the Halconero leads us to the conclusion that, except for its three opening chapters, which deal with the period of Enrique III, the Abbreviation carefully followed the Halconero, even though it used a somewhat fuller version than the one at our disposal. Occasionally, therefore, it contains items of informa¬ tion that are not present in the extant Halconero; and this is the case with the account it gives us of the Toledan outbreak.

632 ]

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II

These additions are so minor, however, that they do not materially change the picture given by the extant Halconero. Where the picture does change noticeably, and the course of events becomes appreciably clearer, is in those few places where the Abbreviator interpolates data borrowed from other sources or based on his own firsthand knowledge. It is from these interpola¬ tions, no less than his deletions and the way he abridged certain relevant passages, that we learn of his own view—or the view he wished to communi¬ cate to his readers—about the causes of the Toledan outbreak and their relationship to the Marrano problem. Thus while the Halconero gives us to understand that Pero Sarmiento remained on the fence during the revolutionary outbreak and did not show that his heart was with the rebels, the Abbreviation states that Sarmiento “gave the comun aid” and that it was thanks to this aid that the comun captured Alvaro’s positions in the city." It is possible of course that by this

aid

(el

fauor que les dio) the author meant merely moral encouragement or mere intimation that he, the governor, would not oppose an assault on Alvaro’s positions; but if this is what he meant, it is clear that, in his view, this encouragement was enough to make the comun act. Thus, the author of the Abbreviation indicated his disagreement with the Halconero's presentation of the “observer’s role” that Sarmiento allegedly played in Toledo in the first stage of the disturbances. Far from being a passive onlooker, Sarmiento, in his opinion, had a major share in the perpetration of the outbreak. To be sure, immediately following the above statement the Abbreviator reverts to the Halconero's text, asserting that “at that time Sarmiento did not show himself clearly to be in favor” of rebellion,12 and thus seems to contra¬ dict what he himself had just said. But this would be a wrong understanding of his assertions. It is evident that what he meant to say was that Sarmiento did not show himself overtly and formally in favor of the rebels (this is how he interpreted the word “clearly” \claramente\) in the Halconero, but that does not mean that covertly and informally he did not give them encouragement and aid. That this is indeed what he sought to convey is suggested by his second interpolation into the text. Sarmiento, he tells us, could not take an open stand in favor of the rebellion “because he did not have [as yet sufficient] time to accomplish his evil intention.”13 But from this it appears that his “evil intention” was—from the start of the rebellion, and perhaps even earlier—to join the rebels formally and become their leader. One may assume that his behavior in that period was in accord with that intention. But now we come to the cardinal question: What did Sarmiento seek to accomplish by becoming the rebels’ chief? In the answer to this question we again see a difference between the Halconero and the Abbreviation. According to the Halconero, Sarmiento had claims against the King and the Constable and he wanted to use the rebellious city as a means of exerting pressure upon

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the King to have those claims realized. But the Abbreviator believed that, apart from this, Sarmiento had other purposes. He wanted to rise with the city “in order to do all that he wanted to be done according to what he [actually] did.”14 In other words, what Sarmiento did during the rebellion was not only a means to attain some end that had long been fixed in his mind (the fulfillment of the King’s pledge to him), but an end in itself. Now, what precisely did the Abbreviator allude to when he made his carefully phrased statement about Sarmiento’s aims? We shall answer this question with greater assurance if we take a look at the passages in which the Abbreviation and the Halconero address this point. Halconero

Abbreviation

(p. 519)

(f. 283a)

. . . and some who wished to oppose this view [i.e., that it was necessary

When Pero Sarmiento saw himself

to rebel and persist in the rebel¬

well in control of the city and the

lion], were made subject by Sar¬

people (pueblo), he ordered the ar¬

miento to such cruel punishments

rest of certain citizens [ciudadanos],

as robberies and exiles, deaths and

honored and rich people, because of

injuries, that all of those who re¬

his great greed to take for himself

mained in the city were frightened,

what was theirs. And he ordered

so that, with some of them liking

that they be subjected to certain

what he did and others afraid to

torments,

express their objection, there was

having committed any sin—neither

not a man [in the city] who dared

in deed nor in thought. And since

utter a word against the will of

the court scribe was of his party and

Pero Sarmiento.

he [himself] was the judge, he sub¬

without

these

people

jected some of those people to cruel punishment even though they mer¬ ited no punishment at all. Then he took their possessions. He also per¬ secuted and exiled other people, saying that they followed Alvaro’s instructions. So it happened that while some did [what he ordered them to do] out of love and others out of fear, there was not a man who dared utter a word against the will of Pero Sarmiento. So, according to the Halconero, Sarmiento used harsh measures against one segment of the population—i.e., those who opposed the rebellion—while

634 ]

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according to the Abbreviation, there were two groups of people who were victimized by Sarmiento, and the group he mentions first was that of the “honored and rich people” whose properties Sarmiento sought to steal. “Honored and rich,” as we know from other sources, is the title that was commonly used for conversos when the author did not wish to identify them. Sarmiento imprisoned them, put them to torture (which we also gather from other sources) and, finally, inflicted “cruel punishment” upon some of them (by which was no doubt meant death by fire), his sole motive in doing all this having been to satisfy his “great greed.” Then the Abbreviator mentions the second group, which was persecuted and arrested on the alleged grounds that its members “followed the orders” of Alvaro. Significantly, in this instance the Abbreviator indicates the nature of the charge raised against this group—i.e., the political charge which is also mentioned in the Halconero. In contrast, he gave no indication of the charges made against the first group, although he emphasized, time and again, that these charges were false, that the punishment was uncalled for, and that the people so penalized committed no sin—either in deed or in thought (referring, most likely, to the crimes of heresy, for which this exoneration—in deed and in thought—was especially fitting). Thus, the accusations leveled at the conversos were, according to the Abbreviator, artificially concocted, menda¬ ciously presented by a crooked scribe who was Sarmiento’s follower or aide, and determined juridically by Sarmiento himself—all for one reason only: to enable Sarmiento to confiscate for himself the possessions of his innocent victims. We can now understand what the Abbreviator meant when he said that Sarmiento joined the rebels “in order to do all that he wanted to do according to what he [actually] did.” One of the motives—and not the least weighty— that prompted him to take the road he followed was his desire to take for himself the conversos’ enormous wealth. He could do so only if he became master of the city, and he could become its master only if he joined the rebels as their leader. This in fact he did. Then, to cover up his designs and justify his planned robberies, he launched a campaign against the conversos consist¬ ing of charges that were all groundless, but useful for him to attain his ends. Thus the Abbreviator bears witness to the worth—or rather worthlessness— of the accusations against the conversos with respect to their religious atti¬ tudes; but he does it in a roundabout way, in heavily veiled and guarded statements and without mentioning the conversos at all. In fact, had we to rely only on him to learn what happened in Toledo, we would be unable even to guess that there was a persecution of conversos in the city and that this persecution was based on pretexts (or, according to the author, sham accusa¬ tions) that the conversos had committed not only political but also religious crimes.

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II

This treatment of the converso issue is apparent also in other parts of the Abbreviation, and is especially evident in its presentation of the Petition that the rebels submitted to the King. We have seen that the editor of the Halconero preserved the Petition in its original form, as he did not dare change a formal document. The Abbreviator was obviously more audacious and much less respectful of documentary truth. While he did not omit the Petition in its entirety, he deleted whole sentences and passages from it and added certain designations and phrases in order to conceal their true meaning. All of these changes, without exception, related to the conversos, and they show what this editor sought to accomplish by his arbitrary revisions. Thus, he leaves almost untouched the statement in which Alvaro is ac¬ cused by the petitioners of having placed “infidels and heretics” in the offices of government and administration of justice, but later on, when the petition¬ ers state that he farmed the King’s incomes, tributes and taxes to “the said heretical and infidel peoplethe Abbreviator replaced this designation by “peo¬ ple who were to his liking.”15 There was obviously no reason to introduce this change in a document formally submitted to the King unless the Ab¬ breviator was moved to do so by some overriding consideration. That consid¬ eration could only be this: he wished to blur the identification of the tax farmers with the “heretics and infidels”—an identification which, in this context, could leave no doubt as to the objects of the denunciation. As long as the accusation was general—i.e., that among the numerous officials of the government there were some “infidels and heretics”—the reader could not clearly identify these officials with a specific group. But when the denuncia¬ tions of “heresy and infidelity” referred specifically to tax collectors—most of whom were Jews and conversos—any knowledgeable reader would easily conclude ivho those “infidels and heretics” were. This is what the Abbreviation sought to prevent. That this was the sole intent of the Abbreviator, and that he was ready to go to any length to fulfil it by altering, mutilating and abbreviating the original, and also by deleting whole passages from the Petition, is evident from his whole revision of the manuscript and the careful thought he gave to every expression that might cast a shadow of disrepute on the conversos, especially as deviators from the Christian faith. A comparison of the revisions of the rebels’ Petition in the Halconero and the Abbreviation will make this patently clear:

636 ]

THE

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II

Halconero

Abbreviation

(p. 523)

(f. 283)

For it is notorious that the said Al¬

For it is notorious that the said Al¬

varo de Luna, your Constable, has

varo de Luna, your Constable, has

publicly defended and received—

publicly defended and received the

and is defending and receiving—

conversos of the lineage of the Jews

the conversos of the lineage of the

of your kingdoms and dominions,

Jews of your kingdoms, those who

who are for the most part his parti¬

have been found to be for the most

sans.

part infidels and heretics, haveJudaized—and are Judaizing. Thus, the passage in the Petition that defines the conversos as “Judaizers,” “apostates,” and “blasphemers of Christ16—and makes it appear that it is they who were the source of the heresies in the kingdom—is omitted by the Abbreviator and replaced by a brief assertion to the effect that the Master of Santiago supported the conversos “because they were for the most part his partisans.” In like manner he deleted the references to “heretics” and “infidels” which he found in other statements of the Petition or replaced the word “heretics” with the words “bad people,” so that Alvaro, for instance, was described as a “receiver and protector of bad people” (malos) instead of a “receiver and protector of heretics (ereges)f as the text of the Petition actually says.17 What led the Abbreviator to make this change was obviously his desire to protect the conversos against a dangerous accusation which, in all likelihood, he considered calumnious—a desire that made him overlook his own faults in trying to fight one falsehood with another. Thus, in the whole cronica of Juan II, according to the version of the Abbreviator, the conversos are mentioned only twice: once in the Petition of the Toledans and once in the text of the town crier who announced the judgment of the conspirators in Seville in 1434.18 Both cases occur in formal documents. In the latter instance (relating to Seville), no blame is attached to the conversos; they were singled out to be killed for no fault of their own, but to satisfy the desires of criminal conspirators who planned to rise against the King; in the former case (relating to Toledo) their fault was, again, according to the Abbreviator, simply their political support of Alvaro—i.e., of the King’s administration; and this, of course, from the Abbreviator’s standpoint, was no fault at all. But outside these two official documents, the conversos are not mentioned even once. And seeing that the Abbreviator did not hesitate to mutilate even large portions of official documents, we can safely conclude that he systematically obliterated the name of the conversos wherever they were mentioned in the Halconero's own account—that is, when

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[637

the Halconero reported the events in his own words, or when he did not quote verbatim documents taken from the royal archives.

Ill

When was the Abbreviation composed? According to Juan de Mata Carriazo, not much before 1500. Carriazo arrived at this conclusion on the basis of one passage in the last chapter of the Abbreviation, which deals with the burial of Alvaro de Luna. It reads as follows: There [i.e., at the place of Alvaro’s execution in Valladolid] his head and body remained for three days before they were interred by mem¬ bers of the Misericordia brotherhood in a church which is called . . ,19 After many days20 the body was removed from that place and taken to the monastery of San Francisco of Valladolid. And after many [addi¬ tional] days both the body and the head were transferred, most honor¬ ably, to the chapel which he ordered to be built in the Great Church of Santa Maria de Toledo.21 Now, says Carriazo, since that transfer took place after 1488-1489, “when the first duchess of the Infantado, Dona Maria de Luna, ordered new sepulch¬ ers to be built for her parents, the Abbreviation could have been completed only after that date.”22 This conclusion, however, would seem reasonable if we had to consider only the passage cited. As matters stand, it cannot be squared with some of the data we have cited above. Carriazo concludes that the Abbreviation was prepared by a “Toledan Marrano.”23 That he was a Marrano is certain, that he was a Toledan is likely; but beyond that we cannot say anything. Carriazo, it seems, came to his conclusion because he believed that the Abbreviator showed great familiarity with what happened in Toledo in 1449. But such data and opinions as we find in the Abbreviation were doubtless shared by many Marranos, inside and outside Toledo. Informed conversos in the Court of Juan II, or intimates of Alonso de Cartagena, for instance, must have communicated to many other conversos what they knew and thought of these crucial events. This, however, can apply only to contemporaries of the Toledan rebellion. Those who flourished about the year 1500 could not avail themselves of such sources. Carriazo, who no doubt considered this matter, thought therefore that only a Toledan, who derived his information from local traditions, could exhibit about the year 1500 such detailed knowledge of the events in question. But this assumption does not help much in explaining the Abbreviator’s revisions. For apart from the close familiarity with details (such as those touching the collection of the loan) which does not seem likely even for a Toledan writing

638 1

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about the year 15-00, we must also ask what possible interest the writer and his audience could then have in such details. What, for instance, could induce an abbreviator in 1500, after so much water had flowed under the bridge, to state unequivocally—quite unlike his source—that Sarmiento aided the rebels from the outset and helped them capture the city’s gates and towers?24 And what could have possibly moved an abbreviator—assuming he wrote about 1500—to include in this summary such an item as that to get the loan, the rich citizens were required to pay ten doblas and the poor two—an item which is found in no other source dealing with the Toledan rebellion. Such details would be of no interest to an abbreviator who shared Carrillo’s view that the rebellion was caused by the quarrel over the privileges—a quarrel which was of secondary importance in the face of the national emergency that Alvaro spoke of and would clearly put him in the right. On the other hand, the attention paid by the Abbreviator to the manner in which the loan was collected, and especially to the exaction of money from the poor, “who could not pay ’’and "therefore rebelled, ”25 suggests that he ascribed responsibility for the rebellion to Alvaro de Luna, whom he seems to have considered a ruthless ruler lacking in common sense and proper judgment. Such differences of opinion were of course of interest to the people who lived at the time of the disturbances and actively par¬ ticipated in the current controversy. To them the implications of the differ¬ ent data were almost self-evident. But fifty years after the events? Who would draw from those data the various deductions the Abbreviator wished his readers to draw and, above all, that the conversos, whom he does not even mention in his account, were not to blame for the rebellion? To defend the conversos’ religious reputation and remove from them the stigma of heresy would of course be of interest for a converso in 1500 (i.e., at the time of the Inquisition) no less, and even more, than in any preceding period. But would he go about it the way the Abbreviator did? He might have omitted some damaging passages from the Halconero's text on the assumption that he did not consider them important enough to be included in an abridgment. But to make such omissions on so large a scale—and on top of this to falsify an official document that contains an all-out attack on the conversos, and one which accuses them of religious perversion—would be quite a different matter. A converso writing around the year 1500 would not be likely to commit an act of this kind. For by that time the misrepresentation of such charges as those enumerated in the Petition could be construed as an attempt to conceal a heresy, whose existence was attested not only by that document but also by the Inquisition. By easy deduction the Abbreviator could be accused of aiding and abetting the heresy movement, and thus his admittedly mendacious revision—and, in consequence, deceptive presenta¬ tion—could serve as the core of a broader accusation that could possibly be

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built against him. Obviously, no abbreviator in the 145-05 or 1460s would be exposed to dangers of this kind. For all these reasons we believe that the Abbreviation was prepared within a decade or so after the Toledan riots. Replete with data, issues and allusions that could be known or understood only to contemporaries—and, more particularly, to those for whom the riots and their aftermath were a stirring personal experience—it could not have been composed at a time far removed from the events. Consequently, we conclude that the sentence referring to Alvaro’s burial in Toledo was added by one of the later copyists, who was tempted to contribute something to the work.

III. THE CRONICA OF JUAN II

I

The largest and by far the most informative document we have about the period of Juan II is the Cronica of that reign generally attributed to the 15th-century historian Perez de Guzman. Actually, Guzman was only one of the editors of this Cronica, which was shaped and reshaped by several revisers; and the problem of the editorship of this work calls for a special critical discussion. Here we shall confine ourselves to a few observations concerning the second part of the Cronica, covering the period of 1434-1453. For it is this part that includes all the references of the Cronica to the Marranos. There is no reason to doubt the assertion, first made by Galindez de Carvajal, that this part of the Cronica de Juan II is based on a version of the Halconero26-, but the question is: which version? Besides the abridgment of the original Halconero (known today plainly as the Halconero) and its Abbreviation (with which we have dealt), we possess also a Refundicion del Halconero—a revised text of the original chroncile which came down to us incomplete: it ends in the year 1439. It is based on a broader account of the reign than the one reflected in the extant Halconero; and judging by the style, the order of chapters, and the sequence of the narrated events, it is apparent that the Cronica followed the Refundicion from the beginning of 1433 to 1439.27 From the point at which the Refundicion ends, however, we can compare the Cronica to the Halconero and the Abbreviation, and in this part too we find sections that bear the stamp of Carrillo’s work. A number of chapters follow closely the Halconero, and some passages tally almost verbatim; but these are so frequently interrupted by chapters or passages that are formulated quite differently, or presented in a much more elaborate manner, or not found in

THE

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the Halconero at all, that we must conclude that the editor of the Cronica used here another version of the Halconero—and why not assume that he used the same version that he followed for the earlier period (i.e., lor 1433—1439) namely, the Refundicion}28 If so, the Cronica followed the Refundicion from 1433 to 1454 (i.e., the end of Juan II’s reign), although additional documentary material was incorporated, some passages were replaced by others, and other editorial changes were made by various editors who revised the work, begin¬ ning with Perez de Guzman.29

II

In presenting the beginnings of the Toledan rebellion, the Cronica is very close to the Halconero, perhaps because the Refundicion, which it probably followed, adhered in this place to the Halconero's line. Accordingly, chapter 2 of the year 1449, in which these beginnings are described, is almost a replica of chapter 322 of the Halconero, except that it contains a few more details, which were possibly in the Refundicion. Thus, it presents both conflicting opinions—that of Alvaro de Luna and that of the citizens—which clashed after Alvaro made his demand, and like the Halconero, it states clearly that it was the comun whose indignation was aroused by the Constable s insistence on the loan, and it was the comun that burst into rebellion and was responsible for the attack upon the houses of Cota and the seizure of Alvaro s strong points in the city. Then it touches briefly on the uproar caused by the wineskin maker who refused to pay the sum imposed on him by the asses¬ sors—an item that is found in the Abbreviation but not in the Halconero. It may have been taken, however, from the Refundicion, and the editor of the Refundi¬ cion (who was probably Barrientos) may have included it merely to explain a saying (common in his time) about the origins of the Toledan disturbances. On the other hand, it may have served to underline his view that the outbreak in Toledo sprang from the comun—i.e., from the city’s lower classes. Similarly, the first part of chapter 5 of the year 1449 of the Cronica, in which Sarmiento’s joining the rebels is related, follows on the whole the presenta¬ tion of the Halconero in chapter 375, but the explanation of the considerations of both the comun and Sarmiento for bringing about that union differs consid¬ erably in the Cronica from what we have in the Halconero—a difference which again indicates that the Cronica followed a different source here

namely,

the text of the Refundicion. This is how the Cronica presents this phase of the events: After Pero Sarmiento had seen that the comun of the city was in such an uproar (tan alborotada) he joined it [in its rebellious stand]. And since they [i.e., the comun\ were very fearful [that they would be

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[641

severely punished] for the error they had committed in the disservice of the King; and since Pero Sarmiento held the alcazar and the position of the King’s judge, when they saw that he wished to join them in order to carry forward what they had begun, they accepted him as leader and assured him that they would always carry out what he would order.30 As for Sarmiento, the Cronica tells us, he thought that joining the comun on such terms was “a very good way” to take a stand against Alvaro (para ser contra el maestre), and thus, in his desire to push forward his plan, he began to talk to some of the city, who served as the city’s deputies in this matter,31 telling them that he wished to help defend their privileges, and that they should not permit the King to enter the city until he “removed from the Court the Master of Santiago who brought about the violation of such ancient privileges that the city received from the former kings.”32 Finally, the people, since they [belonged to the] comun and had already been placed in the position of doing what Pero Sarmiento would order [them to do], agreed with him, and took an oath to stand for all that he would command.33 According to this, Sarmiento joined the rebels not before the first acts of violence were perpetrated (as suggested by the Abbreviation), but after the people had behaved as real rebels and were fearful of the prospect of the King’s punishment. They realized they had committed an “error,” but did not know how to rectify it.34 Actually, they must have been afraid of Sar¬ miento, since “he was in charge of the alcazar and was also the King’s judge”—namely, it was he who would be expected to punish them by virtue of both his judicial position and military control of the city. Now, when this man whom they feared most offered them his friendship and support, what could they do but persist in their rebellion and accept his proffered alliance and leadership? But besides the untenable—indeed desperate—position in which the reb¬ els of the city found themselves, there was another reason for their prepared¬ ness to carry out Sarmiento’s orders and actually to appoint him as dictator. This was, according to the Cronica, the fact that the people with whom Sarmiento negotiated belonged to the comun—i.e., the common folk. What is implied here is that these people had never been jealous for independence, and that it really made little difference to them whether they were subject to one kind of authority or another. This presentation of the position of the comun and the reasons that prompted it to continue in the rebellion under Sarmiento’s leadership is offered neither by the Halconero nor by the Abbreviation; and similarly, it differs from both of them in the exposition of the motives that moved Pero Sarmiento to associate himself with the rebels. While the Halconero and the

642 ]

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II

Abbreviation tell us that Sarmiento was dissatisfied with both the King and Alvaro and sought to achieve through the rebellion “certain things” which were to put an end to his discontent, the Cronica states explicitly that his aim was to remove the Constable from his office and that he felt that by assuming control of Toledo he would obtain the means to achieve this end. To be sure, when he spoke to the comun of Toledo he sought to appear only as jealous for their rights, and presented Alvaro solely as responsible for the violation of their privileges. But just as the comun were really not interested in the defense of the city’s “ancient” privileges, but rather in saving themselves from punishment, so was Sarmiento not interested in defending the city’s rights, but in pursuing his own private goal, which was the overthrow of the Maestre. Thus, the city’s case against the Constable became identified with his own case, although from quite different motives. These, then, were the formal and actual reasons (and the formal, as we have seen, differed from the actual) for the formation of the alliance between Sarmiento and the rebels. Following this, the rebels “delivered to him the keys of the city, its gates and towers,” which they had captured from Alvaro’s men, and Sarmiento proceeded to rule the city as both dictator and tyrant. Moved by his “great malice and greed,” he “ordered the seizure of certain citizens, honorable men and rich merchants in order to take from them what was theirs, and when he held them in prison, he put them to great tortures, claiming that they wished to deliver the city to the King and made them, under the extreme tortures they suffered, admit to things they never did and never entered their minds,”3S Thus we see the Cronica share the same view, and take the same position toward the accused conversos, that we find in the Abbreviation. Then it adds: And since Pero Sarmiento held in his power the administration of justice and the court’s scribe (escribano) was of his party, he imposed cruel punishment on some people, and after having done this he took their possessions, while from many others he took their estates, and others he exiled from the city, saying they were acting in behalf of the Master of Santiago.36 Hence, in discussing Sarmiento’s reign of terror, the Cronica, like the Abbreviation, does not state that some people in the city were accused of crimes other than political; and in this respect it resembles the Halconero, which states that Sarmiento persecuted those who were opposed to the continuation of the rebellion. But apart from this ostensible reason for all the punishments inflicted on “some people,” the Cronica offers another reason which is not pointed out—at least directly—by the Halconero but indicated rather clearly by the Abbreviation. This was Sarmiento’s “malice and greed” (gran maldad e cobdicia),il which evidently moved him to pursue his tyranny

THE

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\

643

far beyond his political goals and led him to accuse individuals of crimes 'which they had never committed or thought of. Accordingly, Sarmiento, whose original aim was to destroy the Constable’s power, had another aim as well: to enrich himself at the expense of the wealthy citizens. Consequently, he added to his crime of rebellion the crime of further prostitution of justice by promoting additional false accusations that enabled him to sentence the accused to “cruel death” and expropriate their possessions, as he did. Essentially, then, it was a personal persecution, dictated by Sarmiento’s political ambitions, and it became doubly personal when it became inspired by Sarmiento’s insatiable greed. If the Marranos were the main victims, which the author does not indicate even by allusion, he evidently wanted us to believe that they had been involved not as Marranos, but as citizens who were (a) opposed to the rebellion and (b) were affluent, and therefore their wealth made them the target of Sarmiento’s reign of terror. The editor of the Cronica refrained from discussing the religious charges leveled at the Marranos probably because such a discussion could raise questions about the verity of his thesis; and thus, while assuming that many of his contemporaries, who were well aware of the occurrences in Toledo, would understand what he was alluding to,38 he refused to spell out the contents of these allusions and left the uninformed reader of his time, and all the more so of future generations, with no way of gathering from his presen¬ tation that other accusations, besides political ones, were made in Toledo against a certain group of citizens, and that this group consisted of conver¬ ses—and of conversos only. Clearly, the same policy that, in our opinion, guided the editors of the Halconero and the Abbreviation in their treatment of the passages dealing with the conversos determined the manner in which the persecution of Toledo was presented by the Cronica de Juan II. This policy becomes especially apparent in the way the Cronica deals with the Petition submitted by the Toledans to Juan II. The Cronica does not present the text of the Petition in its original form (as does the Halconero) or most of its passages—including some changes (as does the Abbreviation)—but offers a brief summary of its contents in the editor’s own style. By freeing himself from the need to adhere in whatever measure to the text of the document, the editor made it easy for himself to project his own views through the summary he presented, without being guilty of direct falsifica¬ tion. His condensation is of course slanted. On the one hand, it broadens the scope of the complaints that the rebels voiced against the Maestre; on the other, it plays down, weakens, or conceals the complaints they made against the Marranos. Thus, while the original document says merely that the Constable sowed enmity among the grandees in order that he might put an end to all of them,39 the summary also says that he “killed, arrested and expelled the great nobles”

644 ]

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and that he “sowed among them as well as in the cities . . . quarrels, divisions and dissensions, so that all of them would depend on him and all of them would have to serve him.”40 Similarly, while the Petition states that the Constable “violated the privileges, immunities . . . and exemptions of this city” (i.e., of Toledo),41 the summary says that he “violated the exemptions, immunities, and liberties (franquezas) of many cities.”*2 Finally, while the Petition decries the spoliation of the King’s subjects by Alvaro’s officials, the summary adds: “from which robbery he derives and had continually derived great benefits and services” for himself.43 These broadened and aggravated charges were obviously made by a man who agreed with this part of the Petition and, moreover, sought to emphasize the guilt of Alvaro de Luna. Evidently, he wanted to make it clear that while Sarmiento joined the rebels out of greed and ambition, Alvaro was the one who turned the Toledan citizens into rebels against the regime—not only by imposing an illegal tax, but also by his general behavior with the cities, as well as with the nobility. Alvaro provided the fuel for the fires of the rebellion by foment¬ ing unrest, divisions and grievances—acts which included robberies, impris¬ onments, killings and expulsions.44 Yet while the summarizer felt it necessary to sharpen his attack upon Alvaro, he clearly sought to weaken the accusations which the Petition contained against Alvaro’s officials. We have seen that he retained the charge of the Petition that Alvaro’s officials “robbed” the country, but he deleted the more severe accusations that many “died” as a result of their actions. Like¬ wise, he eliminated the claim that these officials “usurped the lordship that belonged to the great nobles,”45 and also the epithets applied to these officials such as “heretics” and “enemies of the Christians,” which appear repeatedly in the original document; instead of the word “heretics’ he used (like the Abbreviation) the words “bad people” (malos),46 which is of course a much less pointed and definite designation. It is clear that by deleting the appellation “heretics,” the editor wished to prevent the identification of Alvaro’s officials with the conversos whom the Petition described as “heretics.” In agreement with this, the editor obliterated every trace of the accusations of heresy which the Petition carries against the conversos and suppressed all other anti-Marrano criticisms that abound in that document. What is more, it avoided all mention of the conversos, so that the reader might not even guess that the writ of complaints which the rebels of Toledo submitted to Juan II had, to any extent and in any way, to do with the conversos. The Cronica follows the same line of suppression of the name of the conversos and the converso issue also when it presents the terms of the agreement reached between the rebels and Prince Enrique, under which the latter was permitted entry into Toledo. Thus, while the Halconero says

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that under those terms, “none of the conversos who had been ousted from the city was ever to be allowed to return to it,” the Cronica says that it was agreed that “none or some of those whom he had expelled”*1 (without mentioning their Marrano identity) would be allowed to return to the city, adding, on top of this, the reason: “because they were following the orders of the Maestre”48 (precisely as in the Abbreviation!). So again: “those who were deprived of the right to return” were so deprived, according to this Cronica, not because they were conversos, but because they were partisans of Alvaro—or, rather, foes of Sarmiento, his clique and his regime. Furthermore, while according to the Halconero, it was specified in the agreement that the banished conversos would never reoccupy the offices they had held in Toledo, the Cronica de Juan II does not say that offices were denied to conversos but to some unspecified supporters of Alvaro who had been ousted from the city. It follows that even when this Cronica touches the matter of public offices, it avoids mentioning the conversos, although they alone were excluded from the right to office in Toledo, and although a special law (the Sentencia-Estatuto) was enacted for this purpose against them. Thus, the Cronica de Juan II went much farther than the Halconero and the Abbreviation in suppressing the name of the conversos and the converso issue, and was also more extreme than its related versions in attributing guilt to Alvaro de Luna for the outbreak of the Toledan rebellion. It is clear, then, that the editor of this Cronica of Juan II was both an ardent opponent of Alvaro and a staunch supporter of the conversos. Who was he? That he was a converso is indicated by his endeavor to conceal any opinion, action, or relationship that could cast any aspersion upon the con¬ versos; and this is also indicated by his attempt to put all the blame for the rebellion on Alvaro de Luna. As we shall see, the attitude toward Alvaro on the part of the conversos, and especially of their leaders, began to change shortly after the rebellion from extremely positive to extremely negative. Our author belonged to those Marranos who experienced this change of heart.

Ill

We have seen that thus far the Cronica de Juan II offers us no new information about the Marranos, except for what we may deduce from the manner in which the editor presents the occurrences in Toledo—or, rather, the rebellion of 1449—with the identity of the conversos completely hidden. Other new and more substantial data we encounter in the later part of the account, beginning with the agreement the Prince reached with Sarmiento concerning the latter’s departure from the city. This agreement was preceded by a talk between Sarmiento and Don Lope

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de Barrientos, Bishop of Cuenca, the Prince’s counselor at the time. That such a talk took place we also know from the Abbreviation, and according to the latter, the Bishop reproached Sarmiento for the “great evils and disobedi¬ ence he had committed against the King.”49 From this single remark in the Abbreviation about that talk we may conclude that Barrientos’ chastisement of the rebel referred solely to Sarmiento’s crimes against the King—i.e., to his political crimes, rather than to his offenses against any particular group of the Toledan population. From the report of this chastisement as presented in the Cronica, however, we gain quite a different impression. For the Cronica recounts in great detail what the Bishop allegedly said, and it is here, in the presentation of the Bishop’s words, that the chronicler gives us clues for reconstructing many of the Toledan events. This detailed ac¬ count was not taken from the original Halconero; for had it been included in it, we believe, we would have found at least a brief summary of it in the Abbreviation. It stands to reason that at least a part of it was included in the Refundicion—i.e., the text of the Halconero which was edited by Barrientos and which, in our opinion, served as the main source for the Cronica de Juan II (i.e., from the year 1435 on). Since the Cronica here quotes the very words the Bishop allegedly said to Sarmiento, the Bishop himself should be regarded as the person who most likely included them in the Refundicion. As we see it, therefore, things evolved as follows: When Barrientos read the Halconero's brief remark about his talk with the rebels’ chief (perhaps the same remark we find in the Abbreviation), he felt the need to offer a fuller account of the final conversation he had with Sarmiento—a conversation to which he may have attributed some historical importance. As a result, he prepared an expanded statement about what had passed in that conversation, and that statement, incorporated in the Refundicion, was copied into the Cronica de Juan II. Thus, according to the Cronica, the Bishop said to the rebel: You, Pero Sarmiento, have committed grand treachery and disobedi¬ ence against our Lord the King, who entrusted to you this city of Toledo. And having taken it, you have robbed and destroyed and killed many people, honored citizens of this city, and above all you have violated the Churches and monasteries, removing from them the possessions of the citizens who put them there to be shielded and protected from you.50 If by the term “honored citizens” the reference was solely or primarily to the conversos, as was undoubtedly the case, we may conclude that once the Marranos realized that Sarmiento was out to enrich himself at their expense, they tried to hide their most valuable possessions in churches and monas¬ teries. Evidently, they hoped that Sarmiento would not dare to violate

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647

religious sanctuaries and remove from them goods entrusted to their care. That this was a vain hope is evident from the above statement. Sarmiento showed no more respect for Church institutions than for private individuals when it came to stealing property of conversos, whom he placed in effect outside the law. In the following part of the Bishop’s accusation, we find additional infor¬ mation about what occurred in Toledo, and particularly about what hap¬ pened to the Marranos; and this, we believe, relates directly to the issue of their religious faithfulness. It reads as follows: And it was not sufficient for you to take their goods, but you also executed honored citizens; some of them you hanged, others you have burnt to death, without giving them a hearing and without having any¬ thing to justify their execution.51 Death by fire was a punishment assigned to convicted heretics, and the chronicler of course knew that some of the Marranos were charged with heresy. But even though he does not mention this charge, he vehemently denies it by his description of the sentences as a mockery of justice (the accused having been denied even a hearing) and as groundless from the point of view of evidence (as there was nothing to justify the sentences issued). The additional statement that the chronicler cites from the Bishop’s denunciation of Sarmiento to his face makes these assertions even more emphatic: And since you had at your disposal the entire administration of justice, you sought out malefactory witnesses against the accused, and since all of them [i.e., the witnesses] feared you, they said what you had ordered them to say; and with these excuses you confiscated the prop¬ erties [of those who were sentenced to death].52 Thus it is evident that, according to this author, the charges against the Marranos were trumped-up charges, supported by false witnesses. These witnesses were “malefactors”—i.e., people who were capable of giving false testimony; but even these people, however morally low, said what they said only out of fear—that is, because they felt compelled to do so. Thus, they imputed crimes to the Marranos that they had never committed, and that had never even entered their minds—a statement we have already found elsewhere in the Cronica and in the Abbreviation. Here, however, it comes from the Bishop’s own lips—another denial, firm and unequivocal, of the charges of heresy leveled against the conversos during the disturbances of 1449.53 Furthermore, it is clear from the Bishop’s statement that the charges of heresy, the trials, and the death sentences served Sarmiento merely as “ex¬ cuses” to rob the conversos of their possessions. But Sarmiento also used another means to divest the conversos of their properties. Barrientos de¬ scribed it as follows:

648 ]

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And you have put behind bars and held in pits of the alcazar many honored wen and ladies . . . where they could not see the sky, for in this manner you expected to receive ransom for them more quickly.54 This is probably how the above accusation was presented by the bishop also in the Refundicion—i.e., his revised edition of the Halconero which served, in our opinion, as the major source of the Cronica edited by Guzman. But the Cronica does not limit its account of the charge to the above scope and form. It also includes in Barrientos’ chiding of the bishop a story of how a group of “honored men and ladies,” incarcerated by Sarmiento in a pit to receive ransom, were ordered to be released by Prince Enrique, “resembling [in this] our Lord when he took out of limbo the Holy Fathers.”55 It is most improba¬ ble that the bishop told Sarmiento details of an occurrence that was of course known to him, and he would certainly not compare the Prince s order to Christ’s liberation of the Saints from hell. Hence, this story was included in the account by a later editor of the Cronica de Juan II. This editor must have been not only a Marrano, but also a Toledan. He was fully informed of what occurred in the city, and he may have also been personally involved in the Marranos’ tale of anguish that he narrates. One can hear his personal reaction—an outburst of joy, relief and gratitude

which

only people saved from such harsh imprisonment could utter and remember for a long time. And perhaps it is to him, the same editor, that we should also attribute the statement: “And when the bishop finished saying the above things to Sarmiento, the latter did not answer a single charge, because he knew that all those things were true.”56 This was supposed to have been Sarmiento’s own admission of guilt, in addition to the testimony of the famous Barrientos—a most honorable Old Christian witness—and thus the case against Sarmiento as tyrant and robber could be considered complete.

IV There is one more point we have to touch upon in our analysis of the various passages in the Cronica that deal with the Marranos in Toledo. We refer to Sarmiento’s departure from the city with all the loot he took from its citizens. In enumerating the kinds of valuables looted, the Cronica, though hardly more detailed than the Abbreviation, adds the pointed remark:

For a

house that he ordered to be robbed, he would not leave until it was empty. 57 The remark is of course calculated to prove that Sarmiento was nothing but a plunderer and that robbery was the main motive of the persecution he conducted against the conversos. The chronicler, moreover, does not pass in silence over the permission given that arch-criminal to get away with the proceeds of his crime. Expressing his views through the alleged protests that

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the robbed people voiced to the Prince, he thus presents their bitter com¬ plaint: Shall all the widows and citizens remain destitute and desolate while you consent that their belongings would thus be despoiled before your eyes and taken away by this cruel tyrant? .. . More than thirty million [maravedis] has he robbed from this city, which can no longer be called noble but dissipated and destroyed; and these citizens were not robbed for doing any evil, but for listening to the order of the King our lord your father.58 Apart from informing us of the total scale of Sarmiento’s robbery (which is indicated nowhere else), the Cronica again reasserts—and this time from the mouth of the robbed—that their only sin was their faithfulness to the King. The chronicler adds that the despoiled people appealed to the Prince and to his friends and favorites, the Master of Calatrava and the Marquis of Villena, but the Prince remained unmoved. He decided to keep the promise of safe-conduct that he had given to Sarmiento. And on this the Cronica remarks: It seems certain that the Prince Don Enrique had not read an impe¬ rial law which says: we can do only those things that we can do legally,59 For had he known this law, he would have recognized his inability to give the protection he granted to Pero Sarmiento, to his family and his possessions. Nor was he in any manner obliged to observe that commit¬ ment after he had given it, for guarding it meant acting against his royal office and against all justice.60 This strong protest against the Prince—which was followed by a sharp attack on his advisers, who either did not know, according to the Cronica, what their obligations were, or else had debauched consciences (undoubt¬ edly, an allusion to Pacheco and Giron)—is of course not at all typical of the style of Pero Carrillo. Nor could it have been written by Barrientos. The latter, as we know, negotiated with Sarmiento his departure from the city on behalf of the Prince; he no doubt attributed importance to the talk that he, Barrientos, had with Sarmiento, in which he influenced the arch-rebel to comply with the Prince’s wishes. Furthermore, he indicated no disagreement when Sarmiento expressed his readiness to leave Toledo “together with all that he possessed.”61 Theoretically, Sarmiento’s reference to “what he pos¬ sessed” could be interpreted by the Bishop to mean “what he possessed by rightand that only subsequently was this broadened to include also what he had gained by robbery. Yet even this is not very likely. For when Barrientos wrote his account, he already knew what Sarmiento had in mind and how the reader of that account would interpret his words. Yet on this occasion

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Barrientos made no negative remark. The chances, therefore, are that he was well aware of the promises given to Sarmiento by the Prince, of the agree¬ ment reached regarding the “possessions,” and that he, the Bishop, ac¬ quiesced in this agreement, even though he may not have been the one who counseled the Prince to make it. We are, therefore, again inclined to con¬ clude that this passage, too—like the one we have just analyzed

was written

by a later editor, probably by the one who wrote the story about the people imprisoned in the “pit.” Indeed, here, too, we have not merely a record of related events, which, in the author’s opinion, should not be forgotten, but also a poignant call for justice. So offended is the author by this behavior of the Prince, and so aggravated by his evasion of justice, that no discerning reader can fail to notice that he was directly concerned. In other words, he was a Marrano. But what was expressed here was not only the author’s personal shock over some glaringly immoral behavior, but a common political conviction of a group regarding the essentials of its life and the prerequisites for its security. The fact that Sarmiento could emerge from the affair not only unscathed, but with a prize of wealth, was to the conversos utterly unthinkable, and spelled evil for the days to come. If property seized by force from Marranos could be taken away by the robber in broad daylight, before the very eyes of the rulers, Marrano life and property were not worth much in Spain. The rulers’ flagrant violation of their duties showed that the Marranos were treated in Spain as if they were outside the pale of law. This the author further indicates by the following words: Even less is it to be believed that the said Prince or the members of his Council, when they tolerated this thing, remembered that chapter that begins with the word Error in the eighty third distinction of the Decretum which begins thus: “An error which is not resisted, becomes approved; the truth, when not defended, is offended; to avoid the correction of evil when one can do so, is nothing but favoring that evil; he who does not denounce a manifest crime shares some of the thinking of a secret accomplice.”62

A staunch and open advocate of the conversos, the author also has legal education. Such direct and harsh criticism—and such as is based repeatedly on laws—could come, indeed, from a Marrano jurist, or a Marrano writer who took his arguments from converso jurists. In fact, the thoughts expressed in the passage just cited, and the earlier passage about the ‘imperial law, could have originated with such men as the Relator.63 In them we hear not only the clamor and complaint of the average Marrano—the man in the street—against the outrages of which he was victim, but the sharp protests

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that the leading conversos doubtless lodged with the Prince and King Juan II when they demanded justice for their people.

IV. THE CUARTA CRONICA GENERAL64

I.

Like all other “general” histories of Spain, the Cuarta Cronica General does not deal with a particular reign or period but presents the story of Spain from its ancient beginnings to the time of the writer. Thus, after a few introductory chapters, the Cuarta begins with the Gothic period and goes on to the end of Juan IPs reign (1454). It exists in many 15th-century manuscripts and is believed to have been completed shortly after Juan IPs death. Nothing definite has been established about the authorship of this work except that its first part (up to 1243) is an amplified translation into Castilian of the Latin version of the chronicle of Rodrigojimenez de Rada, Archbishop of Toledo (d. 1247). As for the continuation from 1243, it is attributed in one manuscript to Gonzalo de Hinojosa, Bishop of Burgos and author of another cronica of Castile (up to the time of Alfonso XI), and in another to Pedro Lopez de Ayala, Chancellor of Castile, who was also a historian of high repute. Since Hinojosa died in 1327 and Ayala in 1407, it is obvious that both aforesaid attributions are at least partly erroneous, since they relate to the entire period from 1243 to 1454; and the consensus of scholarly opinion is therefore that the author (or authors) of the Cuarta Cronica General must be considered anonymous. This is all the more true of the chapter on Juan IPs time that is included in this chronicle, since none of the suggested author¬ ships can apply to this period. Nevertheless, one important scholar had different thoughts on this matter. Fidel Fita, who believed that both Hinojosa and Ayala did participate in the writing of the Cuarta (the former to approxi¬ mately 1325 and Ayala from that time to 1406), suggested that the chapter on the period of Juan II was composed by Alonso de Cartagena,65 perhaps because, like two of the preceding authors, Cartagena was both bishop and historian. Fita mentions in reference to his suggestion Cartagena’s Arbol genealogico de los reyes de Castillay de Leon, but other arguments may be offered in support of his conjecture which is by no means without merit.66 Of the numerous extant manuscripts of the Cuarta, only two contain a chapter on Juan IPs reign, their versions differing in scope, approach and contents. The more copious of the two is ms. 9559 of the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, which was published by the Marques de la Fuensanta del Valle in the Coleccion de Documentos Ineditos.61 It is the only one that covers the whole period of Juan II and contains an account of the Toledan events.68 Our attention, therefore, will center on this version only.

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The author of the chapter on Juan II, it may be noted, was well aware of the contents of the Cronica de Juan II but, at least in what he tells us about the Toledan rebellion, he does not seem to rely on that cronica or to have been in need of such reliance. He appears to have firsthand knowledge of what occurred in Toledo, and he also takes an independent view

certainly,

more forthright and definite—about the personalities involved, their mo¬ tives, and the causes of the developments. Most critical of Alvaro de Luna, the author begins his account of the outbreak with an attack upon the Constable s role in the affair from a purely moral point of view. As he puts it, it was “because of the extraordinary greed of this Maestre” (the Master of Santiago), because of his desire to “amass treasures more than he had already amassed,

that he advised the King to

impose a loan upon Toledo, while he knew very well that that city was “exempt from the duty of paying tributes and granting loans” to the royal administration by virtue of the great privileges it had obtained from the former kings of Castile.”69 From this first cause of the rebellion the author proceeds to what he considers the second one: the imposition of payments upon the poor and the attempt to exact these payments by force. One of the poor people was arrested for having failed to pay his share of the loan, and “while he was being carried to the carcel, he shouted so much and made such a great noise that the whole city was outraged.” As a result, “the people of the community declared rebelliously that they would neither grant the loan nor pay it.” Then “they went and burned the houses of Alonso Cota, who was the King’s appointed collector of the loan. In consequence there developed in the city great scandals, disturbances, and divisions between some of the people and the others.”70 The author of the account thus places the responsibility for the outbreak in Toledo squarely upon the shoulders of Alvaro de Luna. Not only does he consider the demand which was addressed to the city of Toledo illegal— since it was in violation of the city’s privileges—but he also considers it immoral and, in fact, criminal—since it stemmed solely from the Constable s desire to expand his own treasury. He completely ignores the Maestre’s claim that the money was needed to meet the exigencies of war, with which the kingdom was confronted at the time, and clearly indicates that part of the money which Alvaro planned to collect in Toledo was to go, somehow, into the Constable’s own coffers.71 In all these charges the author echoes the severe accusations made against Alvaro by the Toledan rebels (and the nobles siding with the Infantes of Aragon), and he also gives some backing to their charges against the Constable with respect to the cruelty and harsh¬ ness of his rule by pointing to the manner in which the loan was enforced: Poor people who could not pay their share were forcibly dragged to prison. It was natural, therefore, according to this author, that such acts would stir

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the common people to rebellion. And since Alfonso Cota happened to be the major official (or the tax collector) who was responsible for the execution of the order, they expressed their protest and wrath against Alvaro by attacking the houses of the collector of that impost. We understand why this author dropped the explanation that we find in the Cronica dejuan II—namely, that the people suspected Cota of having “induced” the Constable to impose the loan: He wished to place full responsibility upon the Constable himself, and therefore refused to mention the charge made against Cota. Thus, Alfonso Cota who, as we have noted, was one of Toledo’s leading conversos, is presented in this account as merely an official who carried out orders of his superiors and had, in reality, nothing to do with the basic developments that led to the outbreak. What happened in Toledo was, to begin with, the result of a blunder committed by the Constable, and he was moved to commit it by no one but himself—that is, by his greed, his cruelty and his disregard for the people’s rights.

II.

According to the Cuarta Cronica General, however, Alvaro’s flaws and failures were not the only cause of what occurred in Toledo. There were other factors and tendencies involved, and this is how the Cronica describes them: And since Pero Sarmiento, a high born Caballero, who was then the governor of the Alcazar of the said city, was the inciter of these actions which were thus done for the reason of that loan, [Don Alvaro de Luna] who was at that time in Ocana, decided to go to Toledo and take from him the Alcazar and punish the culprits of that disorder.” [But Pero Sarmiento,] having been informed [of this intent of the Constable], seized all the gates of the city and forcibly expelled from it the judges and caballeros who were citizens of Toledo and [also] the conversos. He despoiled the aforementioned of all their possessions,72 and likewise robbed the majority of the abbots and beneficiaries in the city. In all these matters he was counseled and aided by the bachiller Marcos Garcia de Mazarambroz who used to be called the bachiller Marquillos, and many others. These people killed and robbed and burned some conversos and conversas, bringing against them false testimonies by which they meant to provide an excuse for their own treason and heresy.73 It is quite evident from the above account that, next to Alvaro, the author holds Sarmiento responsible for the Toledan outbreak. Thus, while Alvaro de Luna provoked the people and worked them into a rebellious mood,

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Sarmiento incited them and urged them to translate that mood into action. So the first disturbances, according to this author, were not spontaneous; they were the result of Sarmiento’s incitement, which is quite in line with what we have gathered from the Abbreviation. As for the crimes that were committed later, the main responsibility passes to Sarmiento and his chief aide and counselor, Marcos Garcia de Mazarambroz. To be sure, they were aided by “many” in the city, but it was the former’s agitation, plans and orders that moved the latter to action. Implied in all this is the author’s view—or the view that he sought to communicate to his readers—that despite the fact that the chief rebels were supported by a substantial number of citizens, the people of Toledo, taken as a whole, were not the main culprits in the disturbances. In fact, they were really not too much to blame. Those who were primarily to blame were several individuals who, pricked by their ambitions, brought the people to a state of exasperation and finally to the commission of all kinds of crime. Accordingly, the troubles did not stem from some rooted antago¬ nism between one group of citizens and another—or, if we wish to come closer to our subject, by a widespread dislike for the conversos. They stemmed, to begin with, from the rule of Alvaro, and later from that of Pero Sarmiento, both of whom, each in his own way, sought to exploit the people of Toledo for their selfish designs. And in contradistinction to the Cronica de Juan II, the author does not hide the fact that the conversos did constitute a target of persecution for Sar¬ miento, Marquillos, and their “many” aides. But he clearly seeks to leave us with the impression that the conversos were not the only ones against whom the acts of repression were directed. When he enumerates those who were expelled and robbed by Sarmiento and his henchmen, he mentions first the judges, then the nobles (caballeros) who were citizens of Toledo, and only then—i.e., in the third place—does he mention the conversos. Also when he refers to the properties robbed from some ecclesiastics in Toledo, he does not tell us what we gather from other sources—i.e., that these properties were deposited by conversos for safe keeping in monasteries and other Church institutions—but that, together with the properties of those he had expelled, Sarmiento robbed “most of the abbots and beneficiaries” in the city. As targets of spoliation and aggression, therefore, the conversos were in good com¬ pany—with old Christian judges, nobles and ecclesiastics—all of whom were persecuted, quite obviously, not for religious but for political reasons, or more precisely—as we gather from this account—because the tyrant Sar¬ miento feared their objection to his continued control of the alcazar, and, more generally, his continued occupancy of the governorship of the city. Fundamentally, then, according to this author, the persecution that devel¬ oped in Toledo did not constitute an exclusively anti-converso drive, but a

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drive against all elements in the city who were staunchly on the side of law and order. This is how this writer tries to interpret the events in Toledo, and, in this respect, he does not differ essentially from the other cronicas examined above. Out of the aforementioned implications—i.e., (a) that the rulers, and not the masses, were responsible for the disorders, and (b) that the targets of the aggressors were not only the conversos but all individuals and groups in the city who openly took the side of the law—there emerges automatically the conclusion that the author no doubt wished us to draw—namely, that there was no general clash between Old and New Christians in the city; there was no background of hatred for the conversos that could possibly lead to such a clash; and there was no religious or social misconduct by the conversos that could serve as justification for such a hatred. To be sure, after portraying the developments in a manner that must lead us to such conclusions, the author adds that “some conversos were robbed, killed and burned” on the basis of false charges that had been brought against them—charges supported by false witnesses.74 But not a word is said about what we gather from other sources—namely, that the conversos were ac¬ cused of heresy or, more precisely, of beingjudaizers. Instead, the author says that false witnesses were brought against the conversos to give a semblance of justification to the treason and heresy which were committed by the accusers themselves.75 It is clear, then, that the author exonerates the conversos from any charge of heresy, just as he clears them of any charge of treason. On the other hand, we see that their adversaries were guilty, besides treason, of heresy; and to emphasize this claim of his, the author adds: “And they raised several heresies which are against the faith and the Gospels of our Lord, and they did other such great evils and ugly things that were not done at any time in any city of these kingdoms.”76 He defines Sarmiento not only as an “evil tyrant,” but also as an “evil heretic” and similarly he calls one of his aides, Fernando de Avila, an “evil schismatic.”77 Finally, he points out what the other Chronicles do not, or rather what they cover up in silence—namely, that the Pope excom¬ municated Pero Sarmiento, Marquillos and all their company and ordered them to be tried as “Moors and rebels,”78 thus indicating that they were not only adversaries of the state (rebels), but also enemies of the Christian faith (Moors). Yet with all his emphasis upon the heresies of the rebels, he does not say a word about the nature of their heresies. Nor does he cite from the Pope’s bull against the rebels even one sentence or phrase that would give us a clue as to what their heresy involved. Significantly, when the same author deals, in a preceding section, with the heretics of Durango, he gives us a clear

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intimation of at least one aspect of the religious deviations of that sect.79 W hy then does he not treat in the same manner the heretical deviations of Sarmiento and his group? The reason is not hard to see. By revealing the contents of the latter’s heresy the author would have to disclose the opinions which Sarmiento and Marquillos held of the conversos, and this he evidently refused to do. He no doubt was especially reluctant to mention the main point of the Toledan

heresy

namely, that the conver¬

sos belonged to an inferior race which was evil and criminal by nature, and therefore condemned by God to everlasting suffering and disgrace. He would further have had to say that because of all this, most of the conversos were, according to the Toledans, incapable of accepting Christianity, and that therefore they remained even after their conversion secret Jews and enemies of the Christians; consequently, in the heretics’ view, all of the conversos must be held suspect as unfaithful, and as such they should be categorically barred from every public office in Christian society. Clearly, the author was loath to present all these derogatory assertions about the conversos even as part of an heretical opinion—a fact which should have almost automatically branded these accusations as false. What is more, since he decided to conceal all this and avoid any discussion of the conversos’ race, as well as the question of their religious faithfulness, he also refrained from mentioning the heresy trials organized by the rebels in Toledo against conversos, in which some of the latter were found guilty and burned as heretics at the stake (even though he alluded to this in his references to the “false witnesses” and the conversos who were “burned”). For that very reason, we may add, he did not mention the issuance of the Sentencia-Estatuto, which forbade all conversos to hold public office in the city, and for the same reason he failed to note the dismissal of the conversos from the public offices they had held in Toledo prior to the outbreak (even though he must have alluded, among other things, to these facts by his reference to the “evil and ugly acts which had never been committed in Spain before”). So even though this author, unlike some other chroniclers, does point out that the conversos were a target—and, in fact, a special target—of the rebels’ persecution; even though he does indicate that Marquillos played a leading part in that persecution, and also that the Pope issued a bull against him, as well as those who were allied with him; never¬ theless, he, too, like the authors of the cronicas we have discussed above, refuses to give us any concrete notion of what truly happened in Toledo. Indeed, had we to derive our information only from what the Cuarta tells us about the outbreak and its aftermath, we would not know of the existence of a widespread antipathy, resentment and hatred for the conversos in the city; we would not know that the surge of these feelings was so strong that the government of Castile was incapable of suppressing it even after the downfall of Sarmiento and his clique; nor would we know about the charges

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of heresy that were leveled against the con versos during the rebellion, or the race theory that was propounded in support of these charges; finally, we would have no idea of the scope of the persecution that was conducted against the conversos, and of the city’s legal enactments against them which were aimed at reducing them to an inferior caste. For the author of this chapter in the Cuarta Cronica General covers all these matters with a blanket of silence. There can be no doubt, in our opinion, that this author, like the editors of the other cronicas we have reviewed, was a converso who was a contempo¬ rary of Alvaro, but one who viewed Alvaro not as a hero but as a villain80 and an enemy. But not a word is uttered by him to suggest the real reason for the grudge the conversos held against Alvaro and for the change of the friendship they had felt for him to bitter hostility. Obviously, a policy was manifested here with respect to what should, and should not, be presented for public discussion. And the question that we ought to ask now is: why did the Marranos, who were in charge of these cronicas, choose to follow such a policy of concealment in presenting the story of the Toledan disturbances to their own and future generations in the histories of their country?

v.

CONCLUSION

Having completed our survey of the chronicles dealing with Juan II’s period, all of which were written before the age of the Inquisition, we notice immediately certain similarities in their treatment of the Marrano question. In fact, they display a uniform tendency in all that pertains to that treatment, and it is important for us to understand that tendency before we consider the evidence proper. Regardless of who was the original author of each of the texts under review, and irrespective of the dates of the final revisions of the manuscripts that came down to us, it is clear, as we have seen, that all of them were partly edited, or written, by conversos within a few years after the Toledan out¬ break. This, at least, is true with respect to the sections dealing with matters that relate to the Marranos. And thus what these documents reflect is a contemporary Marrano view and testimony—dating from the middle of the iyth century—of the developments that affected Marrano life in Spain, of the essential causes of the Marrano problem, and—what is no less important for us—of the means and methods that could be used for its solution. We have seen that all four chronicles show, in varying degrees, a desire to suppress any religious accusation that had ever been leveled at the conver¬ sos by their opponents, and similarly all mention of any racial abuse that had ever been hurled against them. Both the issues of Marrano heresy (Judaism) and converso racial inferiority, which formed one of the stormiest controver-

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sies that had ever swept the kingdoms of Spain, were thus systematically forced into obscurity as if they had never been debated. Also issues of major practical significance that morally or legally hinged upon those theories such as the Marranos’ right to public office, or even their right to give testimony in court—were carefully evaded by these chronicles, as if they had never been raised in public and deeply affected the social life of Spain. What were the reasons for the censorship imposed upon all the cronicas of Juan II by their converso authors and editors? The chief reason was no doubt this: The Marranos were faced with a campaign of vilification which clearly threatened their existence in Spain, and they were inevitably looking for the best method to quash that campaign, or reduce its effectiveness. As long as Toledo was the headquarters and center of the rebels’ anti-Marrano agita¬ tion, the Marranos met the violent diatribes, which were directed against them from that source, with a counter-attack that soon put their enemies on the defensive. Determined to fight fire with fire, the Marranos placed in the forefront of their battle-line the strongest and ablest men they possessed— Torquemada, Cartagena, the Relator, and others; they enlisted in their sup¬ port men of courage and brilliance, such as Lope de Barrientos and Alonso de Montalvo; they answered every charge, they exposed every lie, and they built a massive public opinion that was so adverse to Sarmiento and his followers that the latter came to be regarded as outlaws, not only politically, but also morally and religiously. Within one year after the Toledan outbreak, the Marranos saw their foes in retreat; the Pope had denounced and excom¬ municated them; their leaders had been executed or hunted down; and Toledo, like Ciudad Real before it, was clearly seeking accommodation with the Crown. To be sure, the struggle was by no means over, and the Marranos were still to suffer reverses, but the most dangerous and ruthless of their enemies had been silenced, and the anti-Marrano campaign had been checked. What remained for them to do was to overcome the resistance of the Toledan Old Christians to the restoration of their status—that is, their right to full equality—and this, they thought, could be better achieved by quiet negotiations and diplomatic efforts than by noisy charges and counter¬ charges. More clearly, they expected to overcome the difficulties which they still faced in the Toledan area by inducing the King to act decisively in their favor, as he had done many times in the past. A frontal public campaign in their defense now appeared, in consequence, superfluous. It also appeared risky or even harmful. It was obvious to them that if they pressed the attack, the problem of their discrimination in Toledo would be kept alive as a national issue—and what the Marranos wished was to isolate that problem, limit it geographically and reduce it thematically as much as

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they possibly could. Furthermore, a continued campaign in their behalf could lead to a strong counter-offensive, and to the renewal of the charges and recriminations that so besmirched the conversos’ name. This might entangle them in a prolonged conflict, whose outcome could not be foreseen, and, in any case, might rekindle the fires which they had barely managed to extin¬ guish. They knew that the embers of these fires were still glowing; there were still hot ashes and some isolated flames. But nothing should be done that might fan them, they thought. Instead, these flames might be dealt with individually until they were stifled. This seems to have been the thinking of the Marranos—or at least of some of their foremost leaders—in the early iqyos. Fearing that by over-reacting to their opponents they might provoke a new outburst against them, they were quick to suspend that vigorous campaign—that straightforward, proud and passionate response which led to their notable achievements and tri¬ umphs. Their enemies’ leaders were dead or anathematized; and they wanted to regard their enemies’ ideas as dead and anathematized, too. In fact, they wished to see the whole Toledan outburst—that is, insofar as it related to them—as buried and erased from the memory of man. They wished to judge it as a mere episode that had no real roots in the social life of Spain, and therefore no lasting consequences and no baneful effect. In brief, they wished to judge it as a freak of history—the product of a few distorted minds, but not of general, deep-rooted tendencies. To be sure, these perverted criminal individuals had succeeded in turning reality into a nightmare, but their success was inevitably short-lived, as is usually that of all criminals, and the quicker the nightmare was forgotten, the sooner normality would be restored. That they were in error, that they indulged in wishful thinking, the subse¬ quent developments proved. But this wishful thinking was, as we shall see, deeply imbedded in their assimilationist psychology, and it combined with more sober considerations to determine the policy they now pursued. This policy is clearly reflected in the deletions and revisions made by Marrano editors in the chronicles ofjuan II. They too wished to blot out the affairs of Toledo, insofar as they concerned the Marranos, from the memory of their countrymen, but they had to cope with the story of the rebellion which they found in the history books of the reign and which was too much connected—indeed, interwoven—with the general course of events. They could, therefore, revise it in some fashion and make it more acceptable to them, and it is obvious that, to attain this aim, they could follow one of two available courses. They could retain the accounts about the persecution of the conversos and the reasons offered by the rebels in its support, and add refutations of all these reasons, as well as denunciations of the persecutors, such as those enunciated by the Pope, Torquemada and other authorities of Church and State; this would not involve them in any falsification, but simply

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broaden the historical picture. Or they could eliminate all the censures of the conversos that had been aired in the cronicas; they could suppress the whole story of the converso persecution (which would inevitably be necessitated by the former action), and even go to the length of avoiding all mention of the conversos as connected with the whole affair. Obviously, such a form of revision would involve a flagrant distortion of truth. But historical truth was less important in their eyes than the consequences it entailed for the welfare of their group. They chose, as we have seen, the second course—and mainly, no doubt, for the aforesaid reasons. Yet apart from the general reasons we have outlined, the Marrano editors were moved—we may assume—by other considerations which appeared to them valid, and which may be laid to their moral credit. Granted that they could present the charges against the conversos accompanied by their own— or others’—refutations. But what would be the result? They knew the secret that calumny and libel cannot be fought by mere denials, and that denials often have the opposite effect to the one which is generally expected. Doubt¬ less the Marrano editors realized that, with the public mood as it was, the refutations might be less credible than the accusations to most or many of their readers, and that the very repetition of the charges through denials would only help defame the conversos further and serve the aims of their foes. Thus, if they chose the course of full exposure, they could easily see themselves as unwitting parties to the vilification of their own people. And since they were convinced, as we believe they were, in the total innocence of the Marranos, they might also view such action as a crime—the crime of subjecting innocent people to the ordeal of further abasement. In brief, as they saw it, the alternative they faced was between spreading a lie and suppressing it, and thus there could be no question as to the preferable course. This could well be an additional consideration, if not the overriding one, of these historians; and supporting this conclusion was one more point which ought to be kept in mind. The facts in which these editors believed were not only that the Marranos, or their overwhelming majority, were free from the execrable crime of heresy, but that their accusers, too, were well aware of this, and that the motives that moved them to persecute the Marranos were not religious, but base and vile. So why tell the lie, and then deny it by the subsequent presentation of truth, instead of telling the truth only

and right

from the outset? Why present the false religious excuse which the conspira¬ tors used to justify their crimes, instead of ascribing their crimes straightaway to their true motives—to greed, jealousy and political ambition and to the criminal intents of those adventurers? There was a redeeming feature in this kind of reasoning, which, one may assume, guided the Marrano editors—or, at least, some of them to some extent. Their “falsification” of the records

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could appear to them, in their overall considerations, as the presentation of the inner truth of history, while the fuller and ostensibly truthful presentation could be judged by them as leading to misunderstandings and hence to a distortion of the basic facts. These were doubtless some of the considerations, practical and moral, that determined the general method or tendency that the Marrano editors fol¬ lowed in editing the cronicas of Juan II. That an ostrich policy was involved here can hardly be denied. For behind all these and other considerations there was the Marranos’ almost intractable refusal to face the grim realities of their dangerous situation. By burying their heads in the sands of delusion, they could pretend that the storm which was blowing in their faces did not exist and that the hostile movement which was directed against them, and which emanated from the depths of the Spanish people, was merely the creation of political adventurers, fortune-seekers and traitors, and therefore destined to rapid decay. Thus their unwillingness to meet the challenge was coupled with their inability to assess the facts. Marrano reaction to the events of 1449—in that very year, and shortly thereafter—was the exception rather than the rule in the long, complex and tortuous history of Marrano life in Spain. It would be wrong to assume that the above exhausts all the probable answers to the problem we have posed. Since the treatment of the Marranos by Marrano historians is symptomatic of the whole Marrano situation, it touches upon the Marranos’ psychology, as well as on their social and religious aspirations. There is obviously more to this than what we have said, and the reader is referred for further discussion to other parts of this study.81

CHAPTER

III

Reverses and Trium

I. The Aftermath of the Rebellion

I

i f the story of the rebellion of 1449, as it appears in the chronicles of the time, is affected by distortions more than by omissions, the story of the

aftermath in the same chronicles suffers from omissions more than from distortions. In fact, their authors have so managed to evade most of the pertinent events and developments that, had there not survived some related documents besides these semi-official accounts, we would be totally unable to form a clear notion of what actually occurred. And yet, these occurrences had a lasting effect on the history of the conversos and Castile. From scraps of information pieced together from our sources, we may draw the rather surprising conclusion that Sarmiento’s dismissal from his ruling positions, though it ended the rebels’ control of Toledo, did not end Toledo’s intransigence. Lasting for about another year, this intransigence now assumed a new form. Some of its goals were not quite the same as those proclaimed by Sarmiento and his aides. Yet it was insurgence nonetheless; for the city still refused to accept the King and serve him, except on its own special terms, and so continued in its defiance of the Crown, protected by none save the Prince. But the Prince did more than protect the city. He also helped restore it to normality. Once Sarmiento was removed from his posts, the Prince revived the old city institutions, which soon resumed their former functions. No doubt the crucial tasks were entrusted to the same regidores and omes buenos (and other members of the upper middle class) whom the Prince invited to the meeting in December at which Garda and his friends were denounced.

662

REVERSES

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[663

It was with these citizens that the Prince now negotiated the terms of agreement between Toledo and the King. One may wonder why there was need for such negotiations at all. It would seem that insofar as the council was concerned, the very restoration of the patrician leadership, which was not responsible for the insurrection, should automatically have cleared the way for the renewal of the king’s rule in Toledo. Yet actually this was not so. The city leaders raised certain demands as prerequisites for making their peace with the King, and the Prince was no doubt aware of these demands even before he installed them in office. This brings us back to his agreement with Sarmiento, and the conversos’ strong protests against the terms by which the rebel departed from the city. The questions the New Christians raised on that occasion have remained unanswered to this day. Why did the Prince allow Pero Sarmiento to get out of Toledo scot-free? Why did he permit him to leave with the goods he had so brazenly stolen from its citizens? Ostensibly, the answer may lie in the commitment the Prince gave the rebel in June 1449—that is, never to punish or bring him to trial for any of his misdeeds as governor. Of course, the conversos were aware of this commitment, but claimed that such pledges, fundamentally illegal, were also morally void and invalid.1 Quite apart from morality, however, certain political considerations were involved that moti¬ vated the Prince’s stand. We should try to identify these motives before we proceed any further. Enjoying the city’s goodwill and obedience and, above all, its faith in his guardianship, the Prince regarded these attitudes as assets that could stand him well in his negotiations with the King. But, he may have thought, these assets would be lost if he treated Sarmiento as the conversos wished. Not only would he thereby violate the pledges he had given Sarmiento twice,2 and thus impair his own credibility; he would also open a Pandora’s box of fears, suspicions and desperate presumptions that might turn the city against him. In the light of his immediate interests, therefore, the Prince’s position is understandable. In fact, he had little choice. We shall see this more clearly when we take a closer look at the conflict then shaping between the King and the Toledans. Exacerbating this conflict were two issues which seemed to defy solution: (a) the punishment of those of the city inhabitants who had supported the rebels in one way or another; and (b) the conversos’ future status in Toledo. Regarding the first issue, the King, it was known, demanded the arrest and delivery into his hands of all Toledans who had aided Sarmiento, carried out his orders, or committed other crimes under his authority or during the rebellion. This, of course, would also apply to all those who had taken action

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against the New Christians at Sarmiento’s or his government’s behest. The Toledans were fiercely opposed to this demand. They knew that hundreds of Toledans were involved in the first outbreak onjanuary 27 and many more in fighting the royal forces when the King besieged the city. In addition, many, perhaps hundreds, took part in the robberies, tortures, killings, and confiscations; and while most of these belonged to the comun, some were no doubt members of the middle class. To punish all these as the law required would put half the city’s population in mourning. The council members could not accede to this. Their first condition, therefore, for their voluntary acceptance of the King’s renewed rule in Toledo was a full royal pardon for all the crimes committed by the inhabitants in the rebellion. The future status of the New Christians in the city was no lesser a cause of disagreement. The King demanded that the conversos in Toledo be fully restored to their former positions and that all discrimination against them stop. This included of course admission to the city of all the conversos expelled by Sarmiento, permission for conversos to resume the offices from which they had been ousted by the rebels, and of course the abolition of the Sentencia-Estatuto with all its degrading decrees. But the council would not hear of any of these things. Its members stubbornly opposed the King’s demands as if their lives depended on it. Finally, the King and Alvaro must have realized that, however unreasonable the council appeared, it could not be ignored or discounted. It was a stumbling block on their road back to Toledo; and it had to be removed. We can now understand why the Prince handled the departure of Sar¬ miento as he did. He knew that the way he would treat Sarmiento would bear directly on the two major issues that divided the Toledans and the King (i.e., how to treat the crimes of the rebels and how to judge converso rights). Had the Prince followed the conversos’ counsels and punished Sarmiento as they wished, he would have signaled to the Toledans where he stood on the issues that were uppermost in their minds. And he could foresee the result: the loss of their amity and fidelity—a loss which he could then ill afford. For the Prince did not expect plain sailing in his future negotiations with Alvaro on Burgos, and he knew that his only chance of success rested on his firm grip on Toledo. But the strength of this grip, he likewise realized, depended considerably on the friendly relations he might cement with the Toledan citizenry. As the Prince saw it, sooner or later the administration would surrender the castle of Burgos—if he could hold on to Toledo long enough. Toledo was far more important than Burgos, and by any calculation the exchange he proposed was in the King’s favor, he believed. Alvaro, however, judged the issue differently: the Prince wished to obtain a royal asset in return for another royal asset he had seized and held illegally against the King’s will.

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[

66S

Alvaro refused to satisfy that wish, which implied denial of the King’s rights. In addition, his control of the castle of Burgos was vital, he thought, for the peace of the kingdom—not to speak of his security, which could be jeopar¬ dized by the surrender of that stronghold to his enemy. Thus, to settle its Toledan problem, the administration had to contend with two factors that strongly opposed its plans—the council and the Prince. Resolving to deal with each independently, it chose to strike at the council first. It hoped to break the council’s resistance by applying greater pressure to the city.

II

On April 18,1450, the King ordered the republication of the bull against the rebels (Si ad reprimandas) that had been issued on September 24; and two weeks later, on May 4, he published the bull Humani generis, also dated September 24, against the persecutors of converts.3 Both bulls were accompa¬ nied by the “sentences” of the bishops entrusted by the Pope with their “execution”—“sentences” that explained the intent of the Pope’s orders, the procedures to be followed in carrying them out, and the punishments in¬ volved in their violation. Translated into Castilian, the bull against the rebels was published not only with the sentence of its “executor,” Don Fernando de Luxan, bishop of Sigiienza4; it was also accompanied by an opening statement and a concluding declaration of King Juan II.5 In this declaration the monarch made clear his determination to bring all the rebels to justice. This was the first public attack launched by the King against Toledo. The sentence of Don Fernando, bishop of Sigiienza, was generally faithful to the Pope’s scathing bull, but by emphasizing as it did the severity of the punishments decreed by the Pope for the Toledan rebels, as well as by its broadened definition of the culprits, it made the bull seem even harsher. As for the punishments, the sentence stressed the perpetuity of the “excommuni¬ cations” that the bull had decreed,6 and the total prohibition which this penalty implied on any association with the culprits.7 And as for the range of the criminals involved, the sentence added to the categories of the trans¬ gressors (which were specified in the Pope’s bull) the “messengers” and “agents” of the arch-criminal8—in all probability, to make it clear that not only those who shared his intentions, gave him counsel, or engineered his plans, but also those who carried out his instructions, were subject to the same punishment. Evidently, Alvaro and the King believed that by striking at everyone who took part in the rebellion, regardless of motive and personal condition, they would prove at last that rebellion does not pay and finally stamp out the insurrectionist movement.9 The same aim and policy were also reflected in the King’s declaration which was published, as we have indicated,

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together with Don Fernando’s sentence. The Pope instructed the lay author¬ ities in Castile to arrest all the rebels and deliver them to the King, if the King ordered them to do so.10 Juan II now gave that order, coupling it with another command. For in the same declaration he also instructed the authorities to kill the rebels if they resisted arrest.11 The same determination of the royal administration to force the Toledans to do its bidding is also reflected in the rigid sentence that accompanied the bull on the conversos.12 Pedro de Castilla, bishop of Palencia, who was chosen by the King to “execute" the bull,13 did his best to present the Pope’s directives in a way that fitted royal intentions. It is thanks to his sentence, more than anything else, that we can see where the administration stood on the converso issue—at least, until May 1450. Addressing itself to all Christians, lay and ecclesiastic alike, but especially to the Church leaders in Spain (patriarchs, archbishops and bishops), the sentence orders them in the firmest manner “completely to desist from separating” the conversos from all the “dignities, honors and offices, notary¬ ships and depositions of witnesses,”14 and also from “offending, attacking, disquieting or molesting them by word or deed, by yourselves or by the agency of any one of you.”15 It further enjoins them that without deceit, they “revoke, undo and totally annul” such practices within their jurisdiction; and it warns them not to contravene in any manner, “by your own action or by any one else,” these clear and stern prohibitions.16 “Do not dare, nor let anyone dare,” the sentence states in clear-cut terms, “to dogmatize in the future the opposite of the aforesaid,” for “such attempts would only scandal¬ ize all of you, or any one of you,” who might be involved.17 Phrased throughout in such strong language, the sentence was calculated to aid the conversos even more than the bull itself. Accordingly, it ignored the issue of the “bad Christians,” to which the bull paid considerable atten¬ tion, thereby presumably taking for granted that all conversos were good Christians and that the only problem the bull aimed at settling was their mistreatment by some sinful men. No doubt by omitting the subject of the “Judaizers” from the list of topics dealt with in his sentence, the author had another purpose as well—i.e., to prevent the development of an excuse for avoiding the fulfillment of the Pope’s instructions. Indeed, in a sense, the whole sentence was geared to attain that very purpose: And as for you, Patriarchs, Archbishops and Bishops, for whom we have special consideration due to your pontifical dignity, if you act by yourselves, or by the ministry of another person, against what has been stated above, or against any of this, publicly or privately, having made the canonic warning of six days, we are putting on you, through this script, an interdict to enter the Church. And if you remain in this

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interdict six days beyond the six mentioned, with the same canonic warning issued through this script, we suspend you from the sacred minis¬ tries. And if you harden your heart another six days beyond the twelve mentioned ... we shall apply to you, through this script, the sentence of excommunication. And, in addition, we shall proceed against all of you, and against any of you or any others, more gravely, even up to privation, inhabilitation, personal reclusion, and other pecuniary penalties, as it will appear required by the nature of the transgression.'8 Who formulated these sharp sentences which include such threats to the ecclesiastic leaders of so large a part of Christendom? It is obvious that the King and Alvaro approved of the general tenor and goal of the sentence, but it is also clear that special motivation was required to frame it in such strong language and fortify it with such exceptional provisions. It would seem that only a converso official entrusted to supervise the drafting of the sentence could have had such motivation. Who was that official? The King’s declara¬ tion made public with the sentence of Fernando de Luxan bears the signature of the Relator19; and we may readily assume that it was the Relator who shared in the production of the other sentence, too. In any case, it is clear that the sentence was meant to impress the country with the royal resolve—not only to restore the status quo ante, but also to prevent any attempt by its opponents to disturb its speedy restoration. Above all, they sought to impress upon the Toledans, and especially their councillors and other leaders, that further resistance to the King’s orders would only involve them in further crimes and hence in greater punishment. In short, the purpose of both episcopal sentences was to frighten the Toledans into submission. But the Toledans were not frightened. They were outraged; and they may even have threatened to disrupt the negotiations if the terrible bulls were not withdrawn. In any case, the King could see that the sentences did not produce the results he had expected; rather than softening the Toledans’ position, they stiffened their resistance to compromise. And yet, it seems, the King did not relax in pursuing his penal policy to the limit. He hunted down the rebels throughout the kingdom and punished them most cruelly wher¬ ever they were caught.20 This of course related to the contents of the first bull, concerning which the King did not seem to yield an inch. But different was the case of the second bull. To be sure, we do not know all that happened in this connection, but the documents tell us of the end result. Thus we are told that the King wrote the Pope (probably not later than August 1450) requesting the suspension of the bull Humani generis on the grounds that its execution might cause many scandals and, consequently, do more harm than good.21 Perhaps the bull aroused tumultuous protests and the King found it necessary to make a conciliatory gesture to the irate Old Christians in Toledo. In any case, on October 28, the Pope granted the

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requested suspension, and this marked Alvaro’s first retreat in his contest with the Toledans.22 It may have been of course just a tactical retreat, with plans to resume the attack later on. Even so, it is clear that the Toledans could see it as a sign of victory for their cause. At any rate, the King’s friendly gesture toward Toledo did not evoke the response he had hoped for. The Toledans did not budge from their former position on either the question of pardoning the criminals or the future status of the conversos. And so, while the negotiations with them bogged down, those between the Prince and the King fared no better. The Prince refused to deliver Toledo to the King until the King gave up the castle of Burgos, while the King refused to surrender that castle to the Count of Plasencia, Alvaro’s foe.

Ill

It is obvious that Alvaro saw no urgency in taking a final stand on the converso issue as long as he made no headway in his dispute with the Prince on the issue of Burgos. Perhaps he was hoping for an end of the stalemate, or rather for a breakthrough in his talks with the Prince, once he established peace with Navarre and thereby strengthened the kingdom’s position. In all likelihood, he assumed that the military raids which Navarre was then conducting against Castile contributed in a way to the Prince’s stubbornness; and this could be another reason why he sought to end, as soon as possible, the conflict with Navarre. Finally, Alvaro attained by negotiations what he could not achieve by military force. On December 18, 1450, Castile and Navarre signed a peace treaty, which granted the nobles who had fled to Navarre the right to be restored to their estates in Castile. It also provided for the resumption by Alfonso, natural son of Juan I of Navarre, of his position as master of Calatrava.23 This was a direct blow to the Prince, for the Order of Calatrava was under the command of Pedro Giron, Pacheco’s brother; and by promising that Order to Alfonso, Juan’s son, Alvaro no doubt sought to drive a wedge between Juan of Navarre and Prince Enrique. Alvaro knew, of course, that in this matter Pacheco and the Prince would refuse to yield, and that is why he hoped that the Order would become a bone of contention between them and Navarre and break up their dangerous alliance. In consequence, the Prince’s position would be weakened, so that he might seek an accommoda¬ tion with the King. If this was part of Alvaro’s plan, his stratagem did not work. He made his first move in this complex game by giving Navarre every indication that Castile would abide by its commitments. He accepted the fugitive nobles to the country and began to restore them to their estates. The King also

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equipped Alfonso with letters, ordering all members of the Order of Calatrava to submit to Alfonso’s command.24 Alfonso, however, after entering Castile at the head of a considerable body of troops, soon came to the conclusion that the task was beyond him. He accepted, to be sure, one position of the Order, but retreated from there to Navarre when he learned that Giron was planning to take the field against him.25 Alvaro must have then informed Navarre that if Alfonso could not enforce his mastership, Castile could not enforce it for him (except by a war between the King and his son, which was of course unthinkable); and Navarre no doubt realized that, under the circumstances, its plan for Calatrava had to be shelved. Also for other reasons Navarre did not wish to make of this issue a casus belli; it would have meant falling straight into the trap which the foxy Alvaro had so carefully prepared. Juan of Navarre did not want to be placed squarely against Prince Enrique and his allies (i.e., the nobles of the opposition), for Navarre would then have lost in Castile all basis for its claims and maneu¬ vers. Alvaro thus resumed his negotiations with the Prince without having the advantage he had hoped to derive from his peace with Navarre. To be sure, the peace strengthened his position and, conversely, weakened that of the Prince. Nevertheless, he was soon forced to recognize that the Prince was holding fast to his position. His terms for agreement were not altered. Nor were those of the Toledans. Stuck by the firmness of both sides and their foiling of all his attempts at revision, Alvaro could not be slow to perceive the core of the difficulty he encountered. By aiding each other, the Prince and the Toledans simply doubled each other’s strength. With peace at last established with Navarre, and with the exiled nobles readmitted to Castile, the Prince now needed the Toledans’ support more than at any other time. Therefore, if originally he may have attempted to soften the city’s rigid demands, he made no such attempts any longer. He went over completely to the Council’s side, gaining thereby its unqualified loyalty and full support in his quarrel with the King. With this kind of backing by the city’s population, his hold on Toledo was more secure than ever, while the Toledans, protected by the Prince, could safely continue their intransigence. Thus it became apparent to Alvaro that if he wished Toledo to return to the Crown, only one course was open to him—to yield to both the Toledans and the Prince. He concluded an agreement with both parties virtually on their terms. In fact, he concluded two separate agreements, one with the Prince and another with Toledo, and the latter consisted of two parts, one open and another secret, as later developments make apparent.

67° ]

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IV

The open part was expressed, in the main, in the letter the King addressed to the Toledans on March 21, 1451—that is, ten days before his entry to the city. It is a letter of pardon to all the inhabitants of Toledo (cavalleros, escuderos, pueblo, vecinos e moradores) for all the “errors” they had committed against the “royal preeminence” and the laws of the kingdom during the rebellion.26 Limited to this particular goal, the letter is tailored to suit its end. Even so, one can learn much from this letter about how the converso problem was settled in the negotiations between Alvaro and the Toledans. In enumerating the crimes the Toledans had committed, the letter points out, apparently in the right sequence, that they had joined Pero Sarmiento in his rebellion; helped him to take over the city’s government; executed and otherwise killed some men and women without any right and against the laws; illegally arrested and tormented others and seized and confiscated their possessions; ignored the king’s orders and refused him entry into the city; bombarded the royal forces when the king laid siege to Toledo; dispatched many letters throughout the kingdom in which they described the king in foul terms, and “not as their king and natural lord”; laid hands on all the tributes and taxes which the city was in duty bound to pay the king, as well as on the revenues of certain churches and monasteries and the sums some people had deposited therein.27 The long list of crimes which, according to the letter, were committed in Toledo during the rebellion contains however nothing that pertains to the conversos. In fact, the conversos are not mentioned in the letter, as if they had not been a special target and not borne the brunt of the rebels’ persecu¬ tion. To be sure, in referring to the killings, the executions, the torments, the robberies and the confiscations, the king could be assumed to have meant the crimes perpetrated against the conversos, too; but there is no clear indication of this. Nor does the letter touch on the violations of justice committed by the so-called religious tribunals, under the leadership of Pero Galvez; these violations included atrocities perpetrated only against the conversos, and not against any other citizens; yet these crimes and their selected victims are not mentioned even in a word. Similarly, no mention is made of the expulsion of so many Toledans (mostly conversos) from the city; nothing is said about the peremptory removal of many officials from their public posts solely because they were conversos; and not a word is said about the enactment of the Sentencia, which established a regime of discrimination in the city—again, specifically against the conversos. In brief, the conversos’ trials and tribula¬ tions seem to have been deliberately ignored, covered with a heavy blanket of silence as if they had not occurred. To be sure, the letter adds that the citizens permitted or consented to the

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6 7 i

perpetration of many “other things” which deserve “great blame and repre¬ hension,” and that these things are being done “to this day.”28 One may assume that under this category of “things” the king referred to the offenses committed against the conversos only; but if so, it is clear that these offenses, which were the gravest and most atrocious of all, were treated as secondary in importance compared to the others, which were conspicuously mentioned. What is worse, since these crimes were not even named, there was no indication that they were regarded as crimes and, consequently, that they should be discontinued. Thus, one cannot gather from the King’s letter that the expulsion of conversos from their offices was a crime and that therefore those expelled should be reinstated; or that the prohibition on conversos’ giving testimony at court was a crime and therefore should be abolished. In contrast, the letter makes it clear beyond doubt that the king forgave the citizens for all the crimes they had committed; that the goods they had stolen were to remain theirs; and that no one would have the right to call them to justice, or demand any compensation from them, at the request of any party: And it is my wish and order that at no time, nor for any other cause, or reason, or excuse, neither I, nor any other person, nor anyone of my governors and judges, nor any one else, be able to demand or proceed against your properties or against anyone of you, or against others who, at your order, committed such killings, burnings [quemas\, acts of vio¬ lence, robberies and expropriations, and any other offenses, or misdeeds of whatever gravity, for I forgive it all and hold it as forgiven.29

What is more, the king revoked and declared of no effect all acts, processes, and sentences made or submitted against any inhabitant of Toledo, or against the possessions of any such inhabitant, in relation to the above30; and further¬ more, he cleared them of “any infamy and blemish that they incurred as a result of their crimes and misdeeds and as a result of the processes and sentences that were issued against you or anyone of you,” and restored them to their “good reputation.”31 The citizens of Toledo therefore were cleared even of moral guilt for all the gross crimes they had committed; on the other hand, the conversos, who had been subjected by these citizens to a long and vicious campaign of vilification, who were blamed as heretics, Judaizers and apostates, remained in their infamy. One can understand the feelings of consternation, distress and wrath that swept the camp of the conversos in Spain shortly after this cedula was published. It was obvious that in the final deal the king had made with the city of Toledo, the conversos’ interests, needs and rights had been sacrificed to the wishes and demands of their enemies. Above all, we must conclude that the Sentencia remained in force; for not a word was said about its abolition; nor was any compensation offered the conversos for the losses and suffering

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they had endured; nor were those expelled allowed to return. All the appeals they had addressed to the rulers—such as the Instruction of the Relator (which was aimed at the Prince) or the Defensorium of Cartagena (which was aimed at the king)—seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.32 The King’s letter to the Toledans was not issued by the Relator; it was processed by Pero Fernandez de Lorca, doubtless an Old Christian.33 To have the Relator prepare a royal letter that showed such disregard for the rights of his group, and such lack of consideration for his struggle in their behalf, was of course too much to ask. But the Relator did not need to prepare that letter to be informed of what was going on. There is no doubt that he, like other conversos who occupied high posts in the Court of Juan II, had long known which way the wind was blowing, and that the conflict between the Toledans and the King was being resolved at the conversos’ expense. It is doubtful, however, whether they had known of all the concessions and promises given. Of some of these, it seems, they learned only later, when the course of events revealed to one and all the secret part of the agreement between Alvaro and the city.

V

On March 30, 1451, barely ten days after the publication of the pardon and more than a year after Sarmiento left Toledo—the King, accompanied by Prince Enrique, Don Alvaro and “other grandees then at Court,” entered the city that had caused him more trouble than any other spot in his kingdom. His entry was to mark the restoration of his rule there, and this is indeed what it did. Juan II, his chronicler tells us, was received with great joy by “all” the townsmen of Toledo.34 It is of course unlikely that “all” these townsmen included all Toledan conversos. Nevertheless, despite the disappointment the King’s letter to the city must have caused them, the conversos preferred the lordship ofjuan II to that of the preceding rulers. They were well aware that they could expect no relief and no justice from the former city masters; but they still expected justice from the King. Especially did they count, we may assume, on the help of the King’s first minister, Alvaro de Luna, who was known to be the conversos’ friend; and many of them were probably pleased when they learned that day, March 30, of the special responsibilities that Alvaro had assumed in the administration of Toledo. For what was made public on that occasion was that the alcazar and all the gates of the city were put under Alvaro’s direct command35; that he likewise became the Chief Judge of Appeals,36 while his son assumed the post of Toledo’s alguazil, which meant the head of the city’s police.37 It was clear that the entire city of Toledo was now under Alvaro’s personal control, even

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though Alvaro appointed deputies to fulfill his military and judicial tasks. Yet the conversos who were pleased with this news were ignorant of some crucial facts—that is, those related to the secret agreement concluded between the city and the King. To conversos who could judge things more critically, however, the news was no less than ominous. For if the understanding between the King and the council included, as it seemed, the latter’s consent to Alvaro’s assumption of power in Toledo, then the city’s enthusiastic reception of the King and, together with him, of Alvaro de Luna indicated some hitherto concealed developments which did not augur well for the converso cause. Did not Alvaro assure the city leaders that he had totally abandoned his pro-converso policy and would, from now on, be the city’s friend? Soon the suspicion that this was the case turned into bitter certainty; for this is indeed what happened. By sacrificing the interests and rights of the conversos, the royal administration not only gained Toledo; it also succeeded in placing the city securely in the hands of Alvaro de Luna. The formal responsibility for this negotiated deal is laid by the documents to the King and the Prince. No doubt the Prince supported the Toledans and strongly urged the King to accept their terms, and there is also no doubt that the King agreed; but behind the heir apparent stood Pacheco and behind the King stood Alvaro de Luna. Nothing that either Juan II or Enrique did in the field of political negotiation was done without the advice and consent of their chief guides and counselors. Thus the conversos were sold by Castile’s two shrewdest and most pragmatic politicians—Pacheco and Alvaro de Luna. The conversos of course could not put many hopes in Juan Pacheco, the Prince’s favorite, although, as we have noted, the Relator tried to draw him, by some ingenious arguments, to the conversos’ side. But the cold-blooded Pacheco was not impressed. He probably believed that it would be a mistake for him to link up with the hated group. He may have even thought that this was the time for him to gain the favor and trust of the Old Christians, and, accordingly, made himself their spokesman in the negotiations with the King.38 No doubt the New Christians were informed of his stand by the bishop of Cuenca and others, and what they heard could hardly surprise them. It fitted the known image of the man. But their feelings must have been quite different when they learned of Alvaro’s final stand. Although he was reputed as a crafty manipulator, ad¬ dicted to power and avid for wealth, he was also considered by many a statesman to whom the interests of the state were paramount. He could, it was assumed, shift his alliances with some nobles whose loyalty to him appeared questionable, but he would not change his basic policies at the expense of principles he was known to uphold. His position toward the conversos was believed to have been taken in full accord with these princi¬ ples and to form an inseparable part of his governmental system; it had

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remained unaltered for thirty full years since the beginning of his rule and, naturally, was considered unalterable. That Alvaro would stand by the conversos in such conflicts as had arisen in Toledo during the rebellion appeared to the conversos unquestionable. The facts, however, could not be misread. The King’s letter of pardon to Toledo—in which converso interests were clearly disregarded—and the appointment of Alvaro as the city’s master could mean only one thing: Alvaro had negotiated a deal with the Toledans by which he surrendered converso rights in exchange for Toledo’s allegiance to the King and his personal control of the city. Once this view became widespread among the conversos, few of them could think of Alvaro de Luna except as traitor to their group and enemy of their cause.

VI

The verbal agreement concluded with the Toledans regarding the future of the conversos in the city no doubt conflicted with the previous assurances the administration had given to the converso leaders. Disclosure of its terms would have greatly embarrassed both King Juan II and the Constable, and this was one reason why it was decided to keep the agreement secret. The Toledans were allowed to go on treating the conversos as they had been doing under the Prince, with the royal administration neither formally ap¬ proving nor offering objection to that treatment. It was probably assumed that the New Christians of Castile would in time accept their condition in Toledo as a fact of life that could not be changed and give up their struggle to change it. But there was more to the secrecy that surrounded the agreement reached with the council concerning the conversos. Alvaro, as we shall see, promised the Toledans to take certain steps toward solving the converso problem in line with their demands and to their satisfaction; and he knew that this promise, if divulged, would provoke the strongest converso opposition. To prevent or at least delay this reaction, which was likely to hamper his moves, he chose to keep also this part of his commitments concealed as long as possible. But how long could a surreptitious deal like that remain hidden from the public eye? Inevitably the conversos soon came to suspect that some sinister deals had been made behind their backs; and by pressing for their rights, which were left undiscussed in the King’s letter of pardon to Toledo, they uncovered the facts one by one. To begin with, there was the matter of the New Christians who had been expelled from the city by Sarmiento. The conversos pressed for their return to the city, claiming that their expulsion was among the “crimes” committed by the rebels during the uprising; the King, to be sure, forgave the city for

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these crimes, but did not sanction their continuation. The Toledans, how¬ ever, left matters as they were and forbade those expelled to return. Similarly, the conversos must have asked to be allowed to resume the offices from which they had been ousted, claiming that their expulsion from those offices was illegal, an act of the criminal rebel government. They doubtless also insisted on their right to be appointed to any public office in the city, since the Statute enacted by the rebels was, obviously, in stark violation of the country’s laws. Here again the Toledans disagreed, claiming no doubt that what was done was irreversible, relying on the fact that the enactment of the Statute was not denounced in the King’s official pardon. The conversos had no choice but to turn to the King, asking for his intervention and support. He procrastinated, avoiding a definite answer, thus forcing the conversos to come to him again. But he still refused to take a clear stand or reveal his true position. He was, however, under great pressure, and the Old Christians feared that he might retract. They decided therefore to put their case in writing, reminding the King of his agreement with them, of the promises he had given them on the matters in dispute, of his general assurance that he had changed his position with respect to the converso issue,39 and asked him to stand firm by his pledges and not yield to the conversos’ pleas. The Old Christians sent their letter to the King through one of the city’s regidores, perhaps to suggest that, with respect to the conversos, Toledo’s leaders were all of one mind. The King could no longer avoid an answer, but his answer was hardly explicit. He stated that regarding the expelled conver¬ sos and their resumption of the public offices, “it is his will that matters be guarded according to what he had granted them” (i.e., to the Toledans).40 The cryptic style of this communication, or rather the King’s obvious refusal to state in clear terms what he had “granted”—again indicates the double¬ dealing that must have been going on for some time: the conspiratorial nature of the agreement made with the Toledans, on the one hand, and the contrast¬ ing assurances given the conversos in the course of the rebellion, on the other. Obviously, there was great need for face-saving toward all concerned, the conversos in particular. But the facts could no longer be concealed. The king did not deny the Toledans’ claims concerning the commitments he had made to the city, nor did he correct their startling indication regarding his radical change of policy. Moreover, he fully confirmed their assertions by making them guardians of the “assurances” he had given them, and virtually authorized them to act in this matter according to their understanding. The conversos now realized that the Old Christians’ triumph was far more complete than they had thought. The Old Christians could now, by the King’s authority, block the return of exiled conversos, and they also could, by the same authority, deny them public office. These rights were demanded

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from the King by Sarmiento in his Petition of May 1449, when the King did not agree even to consider them. But what a change had occurred since then! Sarmiento had left Toledo in disgrace; he was hunted down like a fugitive from justice; his closest aides, the leaders of the rebellion, had been cruelly executed or jailed for long terms. But the policies they had initiated regard¬ ing the conversos were very much in force, followed by the entire city of Toledo, and now upheld by the Crown.

VII

Gradually, more developments took place which further revealed the contents of the agreement made behind the conversos’ back. We have seen that already in October 1450, the Pope suspended his interdict on Toledo,41 and this suspension no doubt paved the way for energetic negotiations between the Toledans and Alvaro. But this was not all that the Toledans wanted. What they wanted was the lifting of the interdict and a retraction by the Pope of his bulls against Toledo of September 24,1449. There is no doubt that in his agreement with the Toledans Alvaro promised them to do his utmost for the total cancellation of these bulls. He kept his word. Two royal messengers were sent to Rome to obtain the desired papal orders,42 and on November 20, 1451, Nicholas V issued two new bulls, in which he nullified his previous pronouncements. In one of them he totally removed the inter¬ dict he had laid on Toledo and its territory, and in the other he absolved the city’s inhabitants of all the crimes, wrongs, and excesses they had committed during the rebellion 43 The victory of the Toledans was now complete. They had received full pardon for all their crimes not only from the state but also from the Church, and their anti-converso policies were recognized by the royal administration itself. More than that, it seems, they could not ask. But the worst for the conversos was yet to come. For on November 20, 1451, the Pope also issued a third bull, which called for the establishment of an inquisition in Castile.44 According to the Pope, he issued this bull at the request ofjuan II. But no such action would have been taken by the King without Alvaro’s instigation. There is no doubt, therefore, that this bull too was a product of Alvaro’s negotiations with the Toledans. He promised them to work hard for its attainment, and this was another reason why he and the Toledans preferred to keep the agreement under cover. Both sides wished to minimize or delay converso opposition both at home and abroad. The worst part of the bull on the Inquisition was that it referred not only to Toledo but to the entire kingdom of Castile, and all other domains ofjuan II. Furthermore, the bull authorized proceedings against any converso who

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677

might be put under suspicion, however high his status, rank or reputation. Specifically included in this elevated class were “men of pontifical rank”45— and this in opposition to a previous papal order (that of Boniface VIII in 1298) that exempted bishops from inquisitional proceedings 46 The sphere of the suspect Marranos was thus widened to embrace all the conversos of Castile. This was precisely what Garda in his Memorial, and the Sentencia in its supportive arguments, claimed: All conversos must be suspect as Judaizers and none of them therefore could hold public office. We have seen that Torquemada, in his “Treatise against the Midianites,” considered this view so malicious and absurd that he used it as proof of the groundlessness of the Statute. Nevertheless, the Old Christians of Toledo adopted that very view and, furthermore, used it to justify their refusal to grant the conversos public offices. Alvaro obviously embraced that view, too, and thus it determined the letter and the spirit of the bull on the inquisition. It need scarcely be said that every word in that bull was carefully weighed by its various authors—the secretaries of the Pope and the emissaries of Alvaro. In all probability, the mention of bishops as possible Judaizers was made at the insistence of the Constable himself. He could readily anticipate that the converso bishops would be in the forefront of the struggle against the inquisition; and he also knew that they would consider him an enemy and would not cease to obstruct him. Their inclusion among those suspect of heresy was intended to undermine their prestige and influence and deter them from taking any drastic action they might contemplate against him. Yet if these, as we assume, were Alvaro’s considerations, he must have been rudely mistaken. The bull on the establishment of the Inquisition in Castile, and the mention of the converso bishops as its target, not only failed to intimidate those bishops; it actually roused them to intensify their activity against both Alvaro and the bull. One may ask, of course, at this point: Why did Alvaro go so far as to agree to an inquisition in Castile? We can only suggest an explanation. If the bull on the inquisition, like the accompanying two bulls, emerged, as we believe, from the Toledan negotiations, it must have been promised to the Toledans for something they had granted Alvaro in return. But what could that some¬ thing possibly have been? A correct reply to the second question might offer us an answer to the first. As we have indicated, the Toledans obtained in exchange for their future * obedience to the King, not only full pardon for their crimes, but also consent to the rules and policies they followed with respect to the conversos. But since this consent was given orally and secretly, they must have questioned the value of the commitment. After all, they had nothing in their hands to prove what was actually promised them by the King, and oral assurances, as they well knew, could easily be misinterpreted. These doubts must have

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greatly increased when they learned that Alvaro intended not only to resume his former posts in the city (the Chiefjudgeship and control of the gates), but also to assume the command of the alcazar and virtually also of the royal police. This would make him complete master of Toledo, both militarily and judicially. And once this happened, who could assure them that he would not retreat from the promises he was giving and restore the status quo ante? Surely he would not lack pretexts to do so, and he was the converses’ patron. It stands to reason, therefore, that the Toledans demanded, as guarantee for the verbal assurances they had been offered, that the critical positions of Gover¬ nor and Chiefjudge be entrusted to men who shared their views and whom they could fully trust. It was now Alvaro’s task to move the Toledans to change their mind about his intentions. How could he persuade them to do so? Only by convincing them that he “understood” their position and had revised his entire view of the converso situation. He assured them that, as far as he was concerned, the converso problem had to be solved—not only in Toledo, but also nationally; and to earn their faith and goodwill, he appointed as his military deputy in Toledo Luis de la Qerda, who was the Prince’s man.47 But in addition, he offered them something which they may not even have dared to ask: he would solicit a bull for the establishment of an inquisition, which alone could justify the laws and rulings of the Sentencia-Estatuto. He swore that he would work for the issuance of this bull together with the other bulls they requested. This offer and oath may have broken the ice. Alvaro gained the Toledans’ confidence; they dropped their objections to his rule of the city, and entered into their agreement with the King, in both its open and secret parts. All this is of course conjecture. But what is not conjecture is the cardinal fact that a bull was issued by Nicholas V calling for the establishment of an inquisition in Castile; what is also not conjecture is that this bull was signed on November 20, the very date on which the Pope issued his other two bulls in behalf of the Toledans, thus indicating its connection with the Toledan case; and what is likewise not conjecture, but a safe assumption, is that this bull would never have been issued without Alvaro’s urging and solicitation. And since none of this is conjecture, we must return to the reasons we have offered for the actions that Alvaro took in this matter. For what other explanation, we may ask, can one give for Alvaro’s radical change of course—to his sudden determination to establish an inquisition, and thereby jeopardize the conversos’ position, and virtually abandon all the policies he had followed so consistently in this regard? Surely he did not turn to this course because, after thirty years of dealing with conversos—and presumably knowing them inside out—he now suddenly realized that they were all heretics; or because, although he knew that all along, he suddenly became a pious man, so pious indeed as to go to any length in defense of his

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religion. Since none of these assumptions appears reasonable, we must revert to the solution suggested above. Alvaro, then, changed his position toward the New Christians; but he did so for political, not religious, reasons. Aware of the risks which the change involved, he thought nevertheless that they were outweighed by the assets that he was to gain in return. He saw the tide of popular hatred rising against the conversos in Castile, and he came to the conclusion that it was irresistible and that by further trying to protect them as he did, he was only tying his own fate to theirs and thereby ensuring his ultimate ruin. But other powerful reasons, too, induced him to come to the same conclusion. He needed to gain Toledo at all costs and he could not achieve this against the city’s will. Also, it was vital for him to restore, as soon as possible, his popularity in the nation—a popularity which had been gravely damaged by the Toledans’ campaign. And so, pragmatic as always and ruthless when necessary, he decided to cross the line.

VIII

The appearance of the bull on the inquisition indicates that Alvaro had his way. But his victory was not decisive. Silently, and out of the public eye— through negotiations in camera both in Rome and Castile, involving leading men in Spain and in the Curia—a strenuous contest was now waged between the powerful Constable and the converso leaders. The results of this contest could be seen, first of all, in another bull, which Nicholas V issued on November 29, 1451, only nine days after he had published his bull on the Inquisition and the other two bulls specifically directed to meet the Tole¬ dans’ demands.48 In this latest bull (Considerantes ab intimis) the Pope reiterated the Chris¬ tian position toward all converts to Christianity from Judaism, Islam, and any other sect—a position which dictates friendship for converts and their equal¬ ity of status with that of the Old Christians. The bull specifies that no difference can be made between the converts to Christianity, recent or old, and any other Christian with respect to the assumption of honors, privileges, dignities and offices, both secular and ecclesiastic. It mentions the laws enacted to this effect by the kings of Castile and Leon—i.e., Juan II and Enrique III—but refers not at all to what had happened in Toledo or to the still unabolished Sentencia. It also orders no punishment for the violators of the bull and entrusts no one with its execution. It is simply a rehearsal of Catholic doctrine—which might be used by the conversos in their defense, but could hardly counterbalance the bull on the Inquisition, which virtually justified the policy of discrimination pursued by the Toledans against the conversos.

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While the bull Considerantes must have been mainly the result of converso efforts in Rome, the efforts of the conversos in Castile were centered on preventing the publication of the inquisitional bull. It was a supremely difficult task—and yet it was accomplished with signal success. The bull was suppressed and never heard of again until archivists unearthed it in the seventeenth century. Indeed, except for those involved in its suppression, no one in Castile knew anything about it. That is why even a man like Espina, who looked for every possible reason or precedent for the establishment of an inquisition in Spain, made no mention of it. This is why it was never referred to by Alonso de Oropesa either, or by any of the other advocates of the inquisition in the periods of Enrique IV and the Catholic Kings. How was this suppression achieved? Again we can only conjecture. The only man in Castile who could overrule Alvaro was the King, Juan II. We must therefore assume that at the crucial point, the King forbade the publica¬ tion of the bull. The man closest to the King was the Relator, and hence we may presume that it was the Relator, possibly together with Alonso de Cartagena, who influenced the King to shelve the bull. Perhaps the extreme formulation of the bull worked in the conversos’ favor and led the king to prevent a development that might plunge the kingdom into chaos. The King had just emerged from the Toledan conflict with a bad conscience toward the conversos; he had a good deal of face-saving to do, and was probably embar¬ rassed by his own conduct and the gross injustice he was obliged to cover up; but the establishment of an inquisition—and the way the bull was phrased may have been beyond anything he thought necessary, or had agreed upon with the Constable. In fact, it is possible that Juan II had no clear knowledge of the preparation of this bull, or at least of its crucial content.49 In any case, the total suppression of the bull must have been a result of stern instructions given by the King to Alvaro de Luna. Only such a decisive stand could make Alvaro abide by the monarch s wish and cooperate in the concealment of the bull. That he tried to change the Kings position on this matter may be taken for granted, but he evidently failed. This confrontation between the King and Alvaro may have marked the first stage of the conflict between them—a conflict that was to end before long in the Constable’s downfall.

II. End of Alvaro de Luna i

The swift suppression of the bull on the Inquisition was doubtless the most vital and most urgent task the conversos had to accomplish at the time. But it did not provide an answer to the problem with which they had been grappling for years—the problem of the brazen discrimination against them which was instituted and practiced in Toledo. In a sense, rather than being assuaged, that problem was aggravated since the rebels’ downfall. For now, the regime of discrimination was upheld not by such men as Sarmiento and Garcia, rebels and usurpers of the city government, but by the legitimate authorities of the city, and, furthermore, was backed (at least de facto) by the powerful representatives of the Crown. The converso leaders were now at a loss as to how to continue their struggle. It seemed they had exhausted all possible means by which they might achieve'their ends. To be sure, they could make some use of the bull of November 29, 1451 on the right of converts to equality of status, and flaunt it as another clear indication of the Church’s disavowal of the Toledans’ policies. Yet what good could it possibly do? Their enemies had ready answers for them. Since the bull did not refer to the Toledan situation and did not de¬ nounce the Sentencia-Estatuto, the Toledans could claim that it was not aimed at them or did not apply to the conditions of their city. The bull, they could say, referred to sincere converts, and it was the rights of such converts that it came to guard, while the conversos were all suspect as Judaizers, and therefore the laws that would apply to them were those indi¬ cated in the Sentencia-Estatuto. But also for another important reason was the impact of the bull of November 29 inevitably most limited, if not totally annulled. The effect of any bull in a western country, and especially in the Iberian peninsula, was usually commensurate with the support given it by the secular authorities. Hence, if the royal administration of Castile wanted to employ the bull Considerantes in defense of converso interests, the bull could have served it as an effective tool in the pursuit of that objective. But the royal administra¬ tion lacked the moral resolve, let alone the political capacity, to do so. Only a few months before, as we have seen, the King had confirmed his agreement with the Toledans with respect to the treatment of the conversos in their city, and that agreement concurred, as we have noted, with the provisions of the Sentencia-Estatuto. Above all, it concurred with the secret assurances given the Toledans by the King and Alvaro, who was now not only chief minister

6 8 2 ]

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of the state, but also virtual ruler of Toledo. What is more, he was head of the city’s judiciary, the system that alone had the power to decide which laws (including bulls) were applicable to conversos within Toledo’s jurisdiction. And since Alvaro had changed sides in the conflict, and wished to keep faith with his new allies, there was no chance that he would use the latest bull as an instrument to restore converso rights. Under these circumstances, the conversos saw themselves locked in a dangerous stalemate. They had succeeded in heading ofl the worst

that is,

the establishment of an Inquisition—but they had failed to make headway in their battle against the Statute. The results were ominous. In Spain’s foremost center, ecclesiastic and otherwise, New Christians were treated as if they were Jews or—worse—heretical outcasts. Not for a single day could the conversos acquiesce in such a state of affairs. For now more than ever the Statute threatened the existence of all conver¬ sos in Castile. Under Sarmiento they had reason to fear that Toledo might become a model for other cities; under Alvaro, evidently, that menacing prospect became far more real. There was no reason to believe that if the enemies of the conversos rose against them now in any other city, Alvaro would not grant them under slight pressure what he had granted the Tole¬ dans after a hard struggle. But the danger was not limited to the spread of discrimination. Once the legal bulwarks protecting the conversos were breached in several cities, it was realized, the whole nation could be swept by a flood of hatred that might radically change the royal stand as well. For such a situation could offer Alvaro the opportunity of “proving” to the King how right he was when, in the wake of the Toledan rebellion, he urged a reversal of their policy toward the conversos. That the King might then be swayed to agree with him seemed very likely. And what would follow, il this happened, was not hard to foresee. Alvaro might pull out the bull on the inquisition from the secret vault in which it was lodged and use it as a means to “pacify” the people and as a guideline for a new national policy. Few of the leading New Christians in Castile could doubt that Alvaro was capable of doing this; fewer could think of an answer to the problem. There seemed indeed but one way left to safeguard converso existence in Spain

and that

was to remove Alvaro from his office as Sarmiento had been removed from his. But to accomplish this task seemed next to impossible. No one had as yet managed to do it—that is, with real and lasting success. Those who tried it paid for their daring with their estates, their liberties, and sometimes with their lives. After all that had happened, it was hard to believe that enough bold spirits were left in Castile to make the attempt again.

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II

At the start of the year 1453, Alvaro began to perceive, to his amazement, that he was the target of a deadly conspiracy in which the King himself was involved. To avoid scandal and embarrassment for Juan II, the plan was to kill Alvaro in such a manner that his death would appear accidental. Several attempts were made on his life which were calculated to produce that impression; but Alvaro, both cautious and suspicious, managed to escape them all.1 He stubbornly remained with the King’s Court, which then made its rounds in northern Castile (from Madrigal through Valladolid to Burgos) and from which were spun the webs of all the plots that had been contrived against him. It is difficult to explain Alvaro’s persistence in exposing himself to lurking danger, unless we assume that by staying near the King, he hoped to get at the root of the conspiracy or find a moment of grace for a talk with the monarch in which he might regain his lost favor. Yet whatever the reasons for his conduct in those days, they were evidently based on idle assumptions. From the talks that he had with the King, he gained nothing except a clear indication of the monarch’s desire to remove him from the Court as soon as possible; and as for the conspiracy, he never succeeded in discovering its source and its ramifications. By the time he came close to the heart of the matter, he was already hopelessly trapped. On April 15 he was arrested in Burgos, and six weeks later, on June 2, ended his life on the gallows in Valladolid.2 Who was behind that secret plan to destroy the all-powerful Constable? Who engineered the repeated attempts to ambush, seize, or assassinate him? And who designed the clever scheme that ultimately led to his capture and imprisonment? The sources are not too clear on these matters and leave much room for speculation. Most of them suggest that the King himself led the plot against his former favorite and was fully aware of the steps taken in the course of its execution.3 But was the King the original author of the plan to do away with Alvaro, and was it he who took the first steps to have that plan implemented? Some authors ascribe the idea to the Queen, who fell out with the overweening chief minister and did not rest until the King, who loved her, had finally fulfilled her wish.4 Others point to Alonso Perez de Vivero as both the brain and arm of the conspiracy; he was Alvaro’s “crea¬ ture” and former friend, as well as a high official at Court, and he manipu¬ lated both the King and the Queen strictly for his own selfish designs.s The Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna and other sources hint here and there at the involvement of conversos in the King’s determined drive to rid himself of Alvaro, but nowhere do these sources present the conversos as the instigators of that drive or as its prime movers. The modern accounts of Alvaro’s life—such as those of Quintana, Rizzo and Silio—have ignored even these

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restrained hints, and so have the historians of the Spanish kingdoms in their discussions of the Constable’s career. Thus, Alvaro s fall of fortune is de¬ scribed without relating it in any way to the conversos. Nevertheless, some scholars whose inquiries have centered on the history of the New Christians, on the annals of Spain’s Jews and on the history of the Inquisition, differ on this matter from Alvaro’s biographers and the general historians of Spain. According to those scholars, the conversos played a major—if not decisive—part in Alvaro’s destruction; and while their views vary on some related points, taken together they offer strong arguments to support this extraordinary thesis. It is obvious that this thesis, if substantiated, will throw new light on the history of Spain, as well as that of the Marranos in the 15th century, and will lead us, necessarily, to far-reaching conclusions on major aspects of both. We shall therefore attempt to evaluate the arguments of each of those scholars and examine the evidence on which they rest. Above all, we shall look into the two fundamental elements (of motive and deed) which must be considered in any inquiry of this sort. Then we shall see whether, in addition to the proofs and arguments offered by these scholars, we can find any other piece of evidence, and other reasons based on the sources, that may either support or invalidate the hypothesis we are about to examine.

Ill

The first to assert that the conversos of Castile sought Alvaro de Luna’s destruction and were also instrumental in achieving it, was the first explorer of converso history in Spain, Jose Amador de los Rios. According to Amador, they plotted his death, jointly with some of the Spanish nobility, while the leader of the conversos, Alonso de Cartagena, spearheaded the converso part of the plot.6 Embodied in this thesis was the contention (which Amador also attempted to prove) that the conspiracy climaxed a protracted struggle between Alvaro and the conversos. That conflict, then, was at the root of the plot. But what was the root of the conflict? As Amador saw it, that root was Alvaro’s constant support of the Jews and his stern opposition to the conversos’ plan to bring about an end to Spanish Jewry. This plan was, in Amador’s opinion, the cherished dream of Paul of Burgos—a dream he endeavored to translate into reality by all the means at his disposal. His sons, and especially Alonso de Cartagena, inherited this ambition of his, and so did other leading conversos who followed in Paul’s footsteps.7 Amador had no doubt that the decrees of Basle (1434) and the bull of Eugene IV against the Jews (1442) were both inspired by Alonso de Cartagena and that, on the other hand, it was Alvaro de Luna who hampered or blocked the implementation of these laws.8 Thus, he foiled the com ersos

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designs; and as a result, their dislike of him increased. After his reaction to the Basle decree, that dislike became “open enmity”9 and, following the issuance of the Pragmatica of Arevalo, the enmity turned into “a war unto death.”10 In consequence, they joined the subversive nobility in planning Alvaro’s ruin. Thus triumphed the policy initiated by Paul of Burgos. “The death of Alvaro signified,” says Amador, “the apotheosis of the Ordenamiento of Dona Catalina and the bull of Benedict XIII over the Pragmatica of Arevalo.”11 As we see it, Amador’s theory represents a mixture of truth and fiction. Amador put forward three propositions which seemed to him incontrovert¬ ible: (a) the conversos participated in contriving the plot against Alvaro de Luna; (b) this participation emerged from a conflict that had long preceded that development; (c) the cause of that conflict was the disagreement between Alvaro and the conversos on the Jewish question. Later we shall touch on Amador’s first two propositions, but now we shall deal only with the third, which relates to the conversos’ main motive in contriving a plot against Alvaro. And concerning this, we can say from the outset that Amador fol¬ lowed a wrong line of inquiry, relied on a series of unproven assumptions, and built a theory that cannot withstand critical examination. To fortify his view of the deep antagonism that existed between Alvaro and the conversos, Amador claimed that, besides the religious reasons, there were political considerations that tore the parties asunder. They stemmed from Paul of Burgos’ friendship with Fernando, the Regent of Castile who became King of Aragon. According to Amador, Paul extended that friendship to the late Fernando’s sons, the Infantes of Aragon—a fact that dictated opposition to Alvaro which was to be shared by his entire clan.12 What can be said about these conclusions? It is possible of course that the bishop of Burgos had a latent affection for the Infantes of Aragon, but not for this would he start a quarrel with the powerful favorite of the king. Paul turned his back on Benedict XIII, to whom he owed his entire career, once he saw that his relations with that Pope could imperil or harm his interests.13 Such a person would hardly keep faith with a dead man to the point of supporting his sons, once he realized that by taking their side, he might jeopardize the welfare of his own progeny. Nor would Paul have any reason to adopt an anti-Alvarian position. It was under Alvaro and due to his support that Paul’s sons made their great careers in Spain; and not only they, but the conversos generally, benefited, as we have seen, from Alvaro’s regime.14 We have also seen that while Juan of Navarre, Don Fernando’s son, controlled Castile’s affairs, the conversos’ position had palpa¬ bly deteriorated; and that it was with Alvaro’s resumption of power that the king could take measures in their defense.15 In face of these realities, which clearly implied a factual alliance between Alvaro and the conversos, would

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Paul’s sons be moved by their father’s infatuation with the late Don Fernando and his sons, the Infantes, to break that alliance and turn against Alvaro? The notion is both bizarre and unproven. We must judge it untenable. And no more acceptable is Amador’s view of the conversos’ alleged hostil¬ ity to the Jews as a factor that exacerbated their opposition to Alvaro to the point of becoming a “war unto death.” Again, it is possible that Paul of Burgos—or his son Alonso de Cartagena, or some other converso leader in Castile—was helpful in moving the Council of Basle to adopt its radical decision against the Jews. But we have no evidence that, even if it were so, it adversely affected, as Amador claimed, the relations between Alvaro and the conversos. Certainly, the appointment in 1435 of Alonso de Cartagena as bishop of Burgos (an appointment that was, in fact, made by Alvaro) does not indicate that Alvaro considered him an enemy, anymore than he regarded him as such the year before, when he sent him to Basle as the King’s legate.16 As for Eugene IV’s bull against the Jews, again we do not know who inspired it; but even if it was Alonso de Cartagena, we cannot see why the Pragmdtica of Arevalo should have made him Alvaro’s mortal enemy. As we have indicated, the Pragmdtica was not issued by a government controlled by Alvaro de Luna, but by the government of Juan of Navarre (who was hardly inclined to take Alvaro’s advice), and the Pragmdtica, moreover, did not offset Eugene’s bull, as may be deduced from Amadors words.17 In addition, Amador, as we see it, misconceived the conversos’ attitude toward the Jews at the time. By the middle of the century, the New Chris¬ tians of Spain were not obsessed with the hatred for the Jews that had characterized some of their missionary ancestors. Their thoughts were cen¬ tered on their own problems—political, social and intellectual

problems

that related to their own life as Christians and to the sphere of their own interests. It is far-fetched to assume that they were ready to sacrifice these interests, or jeopardize their social and political gains, by entering a conflict so fraught with danger just to fulfill Paul of Burgos’ “testament

or rather

his desire to “destroy” the Jews. Neither common sense nor the sources support such an assumption. And now we shall turn to Amador’s second proposition, which is closely related to the third. Amador understood that if the main motive for the plot which the conversos allegedly engineered against Alvaro was their thwarted hostility to the Jews, their conflict with Alvaro must have been of long standing and stretched across the whole period of his rule (since Alvaro had shown his friendliness toward the Jews already in 1420, and perhaps before). But Amador failed to prove this assumption, and the available evidence denies the existence of such a protracted conflict. This evidence derives from various sources and from all the three periods of Alvaro s reign. The first of these testimonies comes from none other than a member of the

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family of Paul of Burgos—a family which, according to Amador, had con¬ stantly fomented ill will toward Alvaro. In 1431 Paul of Burgos’s brother, Alvar Garda de Santa Marfa, served as the royal chronicler of Castile, and in his work he devotes a lengthy chapter to Alvaro de Luna and his administration. This is one of the strongest apologies ever written on behalf of Alvaro; it rejects one by one all the accusations hurled at Alvaro by the opposition; and it extols all his efforts on behalf of the king, the country and the people.18 To be sure, this was an official chronicle and Alvaro was then at the peak of his power; yet so convincing is the chronicler’s presentation, and so cogent and moving are his arguments, that one feels certain that Alvar Garcia truly believed what he wrote. In any case, it is clear that had Alvaro de Luna been hated or opposed by the bishop of Burgos, or generally disliked by the leading conversos, Alvar Garda would have used less fervent terms to describe the man and his performance. From the second period of Alvaro’s rule—more precisely, from 1440 on—we have the testimony of the nobles who opposed Alvaro and sought his expulsion from the Court. In the memorandum they then submitted to the King, in which they enumerated their complaints against his favorite, they referred, as we have indicated, to the special role which Fernan Diaz de Toledo, the converso Relator, played in upholding Alvaro’s rule.19 According to them, that role was decisive, and essentially, we believe their evaluation was correct; but if so, it does not square with Amador’s assumption of the “enmity” between Alvaro and the conversos at the time. It is difficult to assume that, had there been such enmity, Fernan Dfaz de Toledo could have cut the figure of so ardent a supporter of Alvaro de Luna; and, in conse¬ quence, the nobles of the opposition could not have believed that this was the case. From quite a different source come similar testimonies that relate to the third stage of Alvaro’s ministry. They are offered by statements of the Toledan rebels from the year of their uprising (1449). In all these documents, as we have clearly seen, the conversos are described as Alvaro’s allies and the chief minister as their protector and promoter. To be sure, as we have indicated, the reasons for the alliance given in those documents must be judged groundless; but one can hardly question the basic fact that Alvaro’s relations with the conversos were friendly and that his attitude toward them could be seen as protective.20 In any case, it is certain that had those relations been marked by a “war unto death” (as Amador de los Rios claimed), the whole line of campaign followed by the rebels would not have been adopted. Amador’s view of the conversos’ motive for their alleged conspiracy against Alvaro de Luna, therefore, must be rejected in both its parts; for neither his theory about the cause of the conflict nor his view about its duration is corroborated by the sources.

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IV

Despite its weaknesses, Amador’s theory greatly influenced later historiog¬ raphers, and among those who accepted it was Heinrich Graetz, the famous historian of the Jewish people. Like Amador, Graetz ascribed the conspiracy against Alvaro primarily to a number of leading New Christians who had long been bitter opponents of Alvaro because of his pro-Jewish policy. In the Basle decree of 1434 and Eugene IV’s bull of 1442 (both of which he at¬ tributed, like Amador, to the influence of Alonso de Cartagena), he saw hard blows not only at the Jews, but also at Alvaro de Luna.*1 Graetz supported this assumption by new data, which he came upon in the course of his researches. For unlike Amador, Graetz was aware of Nicholas V’s bull on the inquisition, and he was quick to realize that it must have been a product of Alvaro’s determined efforts.22 But as in the Pragmdtica of 1443, s0 bull on the inquisition, he saw merely Alvarian counterstrikes against his converso enemies. The enmity of the latter became mortal, Graetz believed, when Alvaro “failed to defend them,” as he put it, during the rebellion of 144923; and so they went all out to destroy him. They managed, in their plots, to get the better of him, and brought to the gallows the great statesman who was the defender of the Jews. Since Graetz followed Amador’s line of thought on the origins of the conversos’ “enmity” toward Alvaro, we can apply our basic criticisms of Amador to the theory of Graetz as well. We shall only have to touch upon the new elements that Graetz introduced in his argumentation, and this we shall do later on. Following in the footsteps of Graetz and Amador, Henry Charles Lea formed his own view of what caused the conspiracy against Alvaro. Like Graetz, Lea noticed the bull on the inquisition and attributed its appearance to Alvaro’s efforts,24 and like Amador, he saw in the conspiracy the final stage of a protracted struggle between Alvaro and the conversos.*5 But Lea does not touch on the causes of the struggle, leaving us to wonder whether he agreed with his predecessors or failed to arrive at a definite conclusion. As for the bull on the inquisition, he says that its object was merely the “destruc¬ tion of de Luna’s enemies, the converso bishops,”26 for the constable “seems to have conceived the idea that if he could introduce the Inquisition in Castile, he might find in it a weapon wherewith to subdue them.”27 Why and when did the converso bishops become Alvaro de Luna s enemies? Lea did not explain. But it is clear that, in his view, that enmity was the cause of the bull which was produced by Alvaro in self-defense. In this Lea comes very close to Graetz, but he goes beyond Graetz in attributing to the bull the conversos’ determination to destroy Alvaro, and the steps they took to achieve this goal. Now, says Lea, “the New Christians recognized that their

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safety depended on de Luna’s downfall”28; they plotted his ruin with the discontented nobles, until the conspiracy against him won over the King.29 Our analysis of Lea’s statements on this issue must also be postponed to a later stage—that is, following our presentation of the views of another scholar, who likewise inquired into the same problems. Without referring to Graetz and Lea, and perhaps altogether unaware of their positions, Beltran de Heredia reached the same conclusion regarding the origins of the bull on the inquisition. More clearly, he maintained (like Graetz and Lea) that the architect of this decree was none other than Alvaro and, moreover, that Alvaro also solicited the bull of October 1450 (i.e., the one that suspended the bull Humam generis in defense of the conversos).30 Both bulls, in Heredia’s opinion, were instruments in the struggle between Alvaro and the conver¬ sos—“these two antagonistic forces which alternately dominated the national politics.”31 Heredia gives no clue to this antagonism, save what is implied in the sentence just cited. If we understand him correctly, he ascribed the origin of the conflict between Alvaro and the conversos to the desire of each of the “rival” parties to control the destinies of the Castilian state. Essentially, then, it was a struggle for power, and in procuring the abovementioned bulls from the Pope, Alvaro simply got an effective weapon to strike at his political adversaries. But Heredia has more to say on this matter, thereby clarifying his percep¬ tion of the problem. If Alvaro, as he believed, “conceived” the bull on the inquisition merely as a political “maneuver,” the “conception” of the bull would have been impossible if it had not been based on a “reality.” That “reality” was the “danger” posed by the conversos to the social and religious life of Spain. The social danger was expressed, as Heredia put it, in the conversos’ “exploitation” and “oppression” of the Spanish people,32 and the religious one in their adherence to the Mosaic faith.33 Indeed, the action of procuring the bull on the inquisition was typical of Alvaro’s tactics and procedures. For his “political wisdom” was characterized by his “ability to utilize an objective situation for his quite unrelated personal ends.”34 Heredia’s statements and terminology on this matter echo the partisan and biased charges that were voiced against the conversos in iyth century Castile and revived in large parts of the scholarly literature produced on this subject in the past century and a half.35 The refrain is familiar. The conversos were secret followers ofjudaism and as such were undermining the Christian faith; moreover, they persecuted the adherents of Christianity by ruthlessly “ex¬ ploiting” and “oppressing” them. As the reader has seen, we have rejected these assertions as wild generalizations based on hateful attitudes; and Heredia, who presents them as “well-known” facts, offers nothing to prove them except this: if the bull on the inquisition had not been based on true claims, “the Pope would not have granted it.”36

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It is difficult to see how a scholar like Heredia could make such a statement in so definite a manner unless he believed in papal infallibility in all matters with which the Pope was concerned. But this sort of belief is clearly contra¬ dicted by Heredia’s own indications that the same Pope changed his position on the converso problem two or three times in the course of two years, and this in accordance with the fluctuating influences wielded upon him from time to time. Similar instability has been noted also in the Pope’s positions on other issues—and this condition, as is known, was often caused by chang¬ ing political circumstances and considerations. Accordingly, when the Pope had to take a stand on any of Castile’s internal problems (and the converso situation presented such a problem), he was moved by the wishes of the political authorities rather than by any moral suasion. Indeed, Heredia him¬ self adduces evidence to this effect when he cites Juan II s public declaration on the death sentence issued against Alvaro de Luna.37 And just as Heredia’s statements on the converso “danger

reflect the

views of the Marrano haters of Toledo, and of their spiritual heirs in later times, so does his statement on the conversos’ attempts to dominate Castilian politics. To be sure, in the 15th century, Marcos Garcia de Mora who, as we have shown, was a violent antisemite, claimed that the Marranos were part¬ ners of Alvaro in their attempts to dominate the state of Castile,38 while Heredia believed that they were his opponents, since, like him, they too sought that dominance. But the core of Heredia’s views on the conversos was essentially that of Garda: both believed that the conversos’ aim was to obtain full mastery of the Castilian government, and also that they achieved it to a large extent. This brings us back to Heredia s view that Alvaro and the conversos formed the “two antagonistic forces” that “alternately dominated the politics of the nation.” Heredia avoids a definite stand on the question of whether the conversos played a part in the death sentence issued against Alvaro de Luna. But he is clearly inclined to believe that they did. “Everything is possible and even probable,” he says, “in that situation in which the King remained reduced to a mere decorative figure.”39 As the reader will see, we reject the notion that in the effort exerted in Alvaro’s liquidation, the King acted as a

decorative

figure,” and similarly we must disagree with the view that the conversos competed and “alternated” with Alvaro in leading the state and determining its destinies. That Heredia should make such an assertion is to us hardly believable. There is no evidence whatever that at any time, at least during the period of 1420-1450, the conversos wished to replace Alvaro or compete with him for his position in the state. Nor do we have any evidence to the effect that the conversos rose against him in concert with his enemies. Serrano’s statement that Alonso de Cartagena always displayed “absolute loyalty” to the King40 could apply to almost all conversos; and for this reason

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alone the conversos should have been Alvaro’s supporters, since the King was decidedly pro-Alvarian at least until the middle of 1451. Thus, if the conver¬ sos did take part in the plot against Alvaro in 1453, this action did not stem, as Heredia suggested, from a deep-seated political antagonism any more than it sprang from a protracted dispute on any “religious” issue. Both theories have no evidence to support them, and both rest on mere prejudice—in the case of Amador, prejudice against the converts, and in the case of Heredia, prejudice against the Jews (with whom he identified the New Christians). It is obvious, then, that of all the scholars mentioned none had suggested an acceptable motive for the alleged converso plot against Alvaro. The view of Amador de los Rios and Graetz that the motive lay in the conversos’ opposition to Alvaro’s treatment of thejewish question had, as we have seen, no basis in fact, nor had their claim that a long-range conflict preceded the alleged conspiracy. Likewise, there is no evidence for Heredia’s assertion that political strife bred the conspiracy against Alvaro, while Lea failed to offer any reason whatever for Alvaro’s quarrel with the converso bishops, in which he saw the root cause of the plot. If we assume, therefore, as these scholars did, that the conversos conspired against Alvaro de Luna, we must revert to our description of the main events related to the Toledan negotiations. For if there was anything that could provide a motive for such a radical converso action against Alvaro, it emerged from the agreement he reached with the Toledans concerning the solution of the converso problem. For that agreement not only secured for the Toledans royal and papal pardons for their rebellious actions, and other crimes committed during the rebellion; it also enabled them to continue their anti-converso discrimination which was, in converso eyes, the greatest crime of all. Even such royal concessions to the city as forbidding the conversos to claim their stolen property, to resume their services in the city’s public offices, and even have their exiled return to Toledo (although they were its citizens, who were expelled by Sarmiento for their alleged support of Alvaro and the King!), were shocking indications of where Alvaro stood. Worst of all, that stand was fully confirmed by his support of the plan to establish an Inquisition in Castile and his ardent solicitation of the plan with the Pope. All this was not, as Graetz thought, mere “failure to defend the conversos during the rebellion” (in fact, during the rebellion, Alvaro could not defend them); this meant a direct attack on the conversos, aimed at denying them the protection of the laws—and not only for a limited period. For what was involved here, the conversos clearly realized, was not a temporary surrender to the Toledans, but a total reversal of Alvaro’s policy—a reversal that threatened the rights, achievements and, indeed, the very lives of all the New Christians in Spain. To be sure, the above-mentioned scholars have noticed the existence of a conflict between Alvaro and the conversos, but they could not give it a

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credible explanation, because they failed to relate it to its true source Alvaro’s negotiations with the Toledans. This is more understandable in the case of Amador, who was not aware of the bull on the inquisition, but it is less understandable in the case of the other scholars, who knew of that bull but ascribed it to wrong reasons. This is also why most of them believed that the conflict referred to was of long standing, while in reality it was of recent origin. Hence the proximity of the two events—the issuance of the bulls of November 20, 1451 and the emergence of the conspiracy about a year later. Thus, all the pieces of the historical puzzle fall into their right place. The conversos took radical steps against Alvaro not because of his pro-Jewish attitude, but because of his anti-converso acts—and these acts were by no means “counterstrikes” that the Constable made in self-defense, but direct and unprovoked assaults on the conversos’ most vital positions. Accordingly, Alvaro was not—as Amador thought—a martyr to his liberal policy toward the Jews, but a casualty of the illiberal policy he had adopted toward the conversos—a policy which was, from the latter’s standpoint, so harsh, so cruel, and so fraught with danger that it forced them to take desperate measures. And so, if the Marranos plotted against Alvaro, it was they who made the counterstrikes in self-defense; and it was in one of those counterstrikes, which constituted the conspiracy, that Alvaro de Luna fell. But the fact that we can see a logical motive for an alleged converso action does not yet prove that the action took place. To prove it, we must offer sufficient evidence. And thus we turn from the arguments offered regarding the “motive” for the conspiracy to the evidence advanced concerning the “deed.”

v Of all the scholars we have mentioned in connection with this thesis, the only one who presented evidential data in support of the theory of the converso conspiracy was the originator of that theory, Amador de los Rios. There is no doubt that it was primarily this evidence that moved men like Graetz, Lea and Heredia to take seriously his claims about the plot. Amador centered most of the evidence he assembled on what occurred in Burgos before Alvaro’s capture. In the case he built against the conversos of Castile, Amador tried to show that they were at the heart of the conspiracy; that they actively supported King Juan II in his efforts to destroy his first minister, and that the man who played a leading role in all this was the bishop of Burgos. According to Amador, Alonso de Cartagena “did not shun or spare any means, however unusual or disloyal,” to have the plan of the Constable s ruin progress and finally “consummated.”41 But a later scholar, Francisco Cantera, took quite a different stand on this issue.

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In his biographical study of the Santa Marias, Cantera rejects the “grave accusations” which Amador de los Rios “launched, without proof,” against “one of our most distinguished prelates.”42 Contrary to Amador who, accord¬ ing to Cantera, “read the sources badly and interpreted them worse,”43 Cantera finds no evidence for the assumption that the bishop was, together with the King, planning the death or imprisonment of Don Alvaro; and the only things the sources make clear, with regard to both the bishop and his family, are, according to Cantera, these: (a) their absolute and most faithful adhesion to the monarch; (b) their decided enthusiasm for Alvaro de Luna during the greater part of his government; and (c) a “discreet personal withdrawal [from Alvaro] when they came to believe that this was required by their loyalty to the King and the good of Castile.”44 One can readily agree to the first proposition and, generally speaking, also to the second, but the third remains entirely unproven and, in fact, is contra¬ dicted by the major premise. If “faithful and absolute adhesion” to the King was the Santa Marias’ first rule of conduct, how could they be satisfied in those crucial days, when the King so exerted himself to seize Alvaro and put an end to his power, with mere “discreet withdrawal from Alvaro,” as Cant¬ era so elegantly put it? Did not their “absolute loyalty to the King” require full cooperation with the monarch and active help in his determined attempt? Cantera seems to disregard all this, and above all he disregards the fact that, besides the causes of the “King” and “Castile,” the conversos had also another cause to mind—that of their rights, freedom and safety, which were so imperiled by Alvaro’s actions. In all his discussions of what transpired in those days between the bishop of Burgos and Alvaro de Luna,4S Cantera does not devote even a single word to the developments in Toledo. Nor does he touch on Alvaro’s policy toward the conversos as it was reshaped in those days, or on the issuance of the bull on the Inquisition, which was a direct result of that policy. Cantera simply ignores all these facts as if they took place in some other country, or as if they had no influence at all on the evolving relations between Alvaro and the conversos. But they inevitably had much to do with that development! And therefore if we review what we know of those relations in light of all preceding events, we must arrive at the conclusion that the bishop of Burgos could not remain neutral, or passive, or withdrawn, in the crucial struggle that unfolded in Burgos in 1453. What do we know of the relations between Alvaro and the bishop of Burgos in those days? What evidence do we have that the bishop was involved in the plot against the constable? And what testimony is there regarding the role that other conversos played in that affair? Undoubtedly, the most important piece of information concerning the relations between Alvaro and the bishop is included in Alvaro’s own state-

THE

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ment as reported in the Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna. He made that statement shortly before his arrest, when his enemies were closing in on him, in response to a proposal by a certain young man who volunteered to show him an escape route from the city. The young man’s name was Alvaro de Cartagena, and he was the son of Pedro de Cartagena, the bishop’s brother, at whose house in Burgos Alvaro lodged. To the Constables friends who stayed in that house, the young man appeared trustworthy enough and his offer genuine and sound. They advised the Constable to accept his proposal; but Alvaro rejected their counsel, giving on that occasion the following reasons: You know that this Alvaro de Cartagena is of the stock of the Conversos, and you also know how much ill the members of this stock wish me. And in addition, this Alvaro de Cartagena is a nephew of the Bishop of Burgos who, I know well, is the greatest adversary I have in this matter.46 Cantera believed that no conclusions can be drawn from this statement about the bishop’s attitude toward the Constable, and especially about the assumption that he was in collusion with the King in planning Alvaro s capture and imprisonment. He attributes no value to Alvaro’s assertion that the bishop of Burgos was his major enemy when he, Alvaro, was harassed, confused and “suspicious of everything and everybody.”47 Camera’s view, however, of Alvaro’s mood, and especially his capacity for clear judgment at the time, is based on no evidence at all and, in fact, is contradicted by our sources. The cronica of Don Alvaro tells us of a row between the soldiers of the bishop Alonso de Cartagena and those ofjuan de Luna, the Constable’s son. It was deliberately provoked, the cronica says, by the conspirators, who expected the Constable to get involved in the skirmish, and thus enable them to capture and kill him. But the Constable avoided the trap. Recalling a similar clash in Madrigal which was contrived for the same purpose, he refrained from approaching the scene of the quarrel. “The prudent Master [of Santiago—i.e., Alvaro],” says the chronicler of Alvaro, “recognized in his sagacity, or because God granted him this recognition, or because his hour had not yet arrived, that that row was feigned and false.”48 Thus, the chronicler does not share Cantera’s view of the Constable’s state of mind. He considers him prudent and wise, endowed with a sharp grasp of events and something like a sixth sense.49 As for his suspicions at the time, we should add, they were fully justified under the circumstances, when he knew for certain that the King was in¬ volved in an etfort to seize and kill him (as indeed he was), but these suspicions did not make him paranoiac. He did not suspect “everybody,

as

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Cantera says, but only those whom he had good reason to suspect. As it turned out, he suspected too few rather than too many.so But let us come back to the case before us that gave occasion to Cantera’s remarks. One can understand why the Constable found it difficult to put his faith in Alvaro de Cartagena and suspected that his plan of rescue was a trap. Well might Alvaro de Luna wonder: Why should a converso—who, like most New Christians, was assumed to be loyal to the King—act against his group’s basic attitude in violation of the king’s wishes?. Obviously, such a violation might incur punishment of the most severe kind, as Alvaro de Cartagena no doubt understood. And why should he risk his life for a man who had never done him a personal favor and whom his fellow conversos regarded as their enemy? Above all, such an act would implicate his father, Pedro de Car¬ tagena, at whose house the Constable was lodging, and subject him to great agony and disgrace. And, again, why should the young man do it? It is obvious that Alvaro could find no answers to these questions—answers that might induce him to take his aides’ advice. We must conclude that Alvaro’s suspicions in this case were not produced by an hallucinating mind. They were well founded; and it has never been proven that he was wrong. As for his remark about the bishop of Burgos, one cannot regard it as an expression of suspicion. It was a statement based on full conviction, on Alvaro’s certain knowledge of the facts. Let us note again what he said when he rejected Alvaro de Cartagena’s offer. “You know,” he pointed out to his aides, “how much this stock [i.e., the conversos] wish me ill. ” The hatred of the conversos for Alvaro de Luna and their desire to see him hurt or destroyed was common knowledge then, and required no proof. “You know’’-—he said to his men. On this basis, one might assume that the leader of the conversos, Alonso de Cartagena, shared his group’s hostility to the constable. But Alvaro did not judge Cartagena by that general standard. “And / know well'' he added, “that the Bishop of Burgos is the greatest adversary I have in this matter. ” In other words, the bishop was not classed by Alvaro as just another converso opponent. He was involved in “this matter”—i.e., the attempt to seize him—more than anyone else. Ac¬ cordingly, he was not just one of the conspirators but the “greatest adversary” of them all, which may mean, if not their leader, their chief instigator, main counselor, or their most determined member. Then, we must recall that this assessment was not made on the basis of guess or conjecture but, as he put it, from full knowledge. Alvaro did not use such indefinite expressions as “I fear,” “I believe,” or similar terms to express his thought of the bishop’s stand. He said concerning this: “I know well,” clearly indicating that in this matter he had no doubts whatsoever. One may argue of course that Alvaro’s “knowledge” is in itself no proof

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of truth. But on what grounds can it be discredited? Alvaro had known the bishop of Burgos for more than three decades. He knew where he stood on every issue that concerned the state, the Church and the conversos. He knew his moods, his manners and his reactions; and of course he knew how the bishop felt about him and his behavior in the Toledan crisis. He could hardly be mistaken as to the claim that the bishop belonged to the camp of his enemies; and his emphasis that he was the greatest of them all only indicates the firmness of his conviction. To this reported statement of Alvaro de Luna we can add an important piece of evidence, which indicates that the bishop was indeed engaged in the effort to seize the Constable. In the final stage of the conspiracy and the hunt, when Alvaro was surrounded in Burgos by his foes and it was clear that he could not escape, the King wished to have him arrested and sentenced rather than killed in an attack. Accordingly, he sent to Alvaro emissaries whose aim was to persuade him that, rather than resist, he willingly surrender to the King. According to the cronica of Alvaro de Luna, the first of these emissaries were Alonso de Cartagena and Rui Diaz de Mendoza, the King’s major mayordomo,51 They came to Alvaro, and Diaz de Mendoza communicated to the Consta¬ ble the King’s wish that he place himself willingly in the King’s imprison¬ ment, “inasmuch as this would be in the King’s service and the good of his Kingdoms.”52 Alvaro answered that he was ready and willing to fulfill the King’s wish; but he asked to be given a “security against his enemies,” who are in the King’s company and “knew how to turn the great love he had for him into a dislike and indignation against him.”53 To this the bishop re¬ sponded: “Senor, you ought not at this time to ask such things; for the King now certainly shows himself to be very annoyed with you, and if we come to him with such a demand, his anger will increase more.”54 So far Alvaro had treated Cartagena with the customary civility and formal respect; but now, in reaction to the bishop’s remark, he threw off his diplomatic mask, gave vent to his true feelings, and revealed what he thought of the bishop of Burgos and the “friendly advice” he gave him: “Bishop,” he said vehemently, “be silent now! And don’t dare talk where caballeros speak! Speak where those who wear the long folds do. And don’t dare interfere more in this [here], because I have spoken

and speak

with

Rui Diaz, and not with you.”55 One can understand what triggered this outburst against the King’s mes¬ senger. For all its vehemence, it had a rational basis. Alvaro saw in the bishop an obstacle for him to achieve what he then needed most, the one thing that would give him a chance for survival—i.e., the King’s safe-conduct. His violent reaction betrayed his resolve to remove that obstacle from his way.

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Not for a moment did he believe that the bishop’s advice was given for his own good, as its contents ostensibly suggested; it was meant, he was sure, to deny him, Alvaro, the only possible protection he could get—and thus secure his ruin. All the bishop wanted was to carry out his mission, which was to deliver Alvaro to the King with no strings attached—without safe-conducts or similar assurances. The King could then freely do with Alvaro what he wished and planned to do with him. That the King’s plan at that stage was to seize Alvaro, sentence him to death, and then confiscate his large estates can hardly be doubted. This is precisely what the King later did, and this is, most probably, what his trusted advisers (who, together with him, laid his schemes in those days) counseled and urged him to do. But even if we assume that, at that stage, the King had not yet arrived at the decision to send Alvaro to the gallows, it is clear that Alvaro’s arrest at the time was meant not only to demote and disgrace him, but also to enable the King to impose heavy penalties on him and his estate. This was of course the minimal aim which the conspirators sought to achieve and without which there was no sense at all in the entire conspiracy. It would be unthinkable that this minimal aim, if not the plan as finally implemented, was unknown to the Kings’ emissaries, who had to have this knowledge in order to perform their task. The bishop was one of these emissaries; and hence his awareness of the mission’s aim may be viewed as a foregone conclusion. He knew that the King would not want Alvaro to have the securities he asked for. Securities, to be sure, were occasionally broken, but their violation was likely to cause problems, moral and political, even for kings. Besides, there was no telling how this royal pledge might affect the King’s ultimate position. And the bishop evidently wanted to be sure that Alvaro’s surrender would this time lead to his political destruction. Hence his immediate negative reaction to Alvaro’s logical and legitimate request. In any case, his participation in that mission, whose purpose was to bring Alvaro to prison, indicates his collusion with the King’s plan, and not just a “discreet withdrawal” from Alvaro, as Francisco Cantera would have it.56 This cooperation of the bishop and the King continued up to the moment of Alvaro’s arrest. From what the cronica of Alvaro de Luna tells us, it appears that Cartagena was with Juan II throughout the negotiations between Alvaro and the King concerning the securities demanded by the Constable. Accord¬ ing to the same source, it is evident that all those who then surrounded the King, and whom he consulted on this matter, were adversaries of Alvaro and sought his downfall. It is virtually inconceivable that Alonso de Cartagena was the only exception. The problem that now confronted them all was how to react to Alvaro’s demand, which Alonso de Cartagena had tried to evade. But unlike Car-

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tagena, the other counselors of the King did not take such a serious view of the matter. When they heard of Alvaro’s condition for surrender, they urged the King to accept it. Consequently, Ruiz Diaz de Mendoza, this time accompanied by Afan de Rivera, returned to the Constable with a “security” for his life.57 But Alvaro was not satisfied with it. He demanded a security which would assure him his life, his freedom, the inviolability of his body and the safety of his possessions, and he demanded the same guarantees from the King for his family and his closest friends. The cronica of Alvaro de Luna tells us that, after considerable consultation with his counselors, the King gave Alvaro these guarantees and swore to them before the bishop of Burgos.58 According to the chronicler, all these guarantees were violated after Alvaro’s arrest and treated as if they had never been given.59 But this was not precisely the case. The text of the security given to Alvaro seems to have been essentially the one found in the Cronica de Juan II. According to this cronica, the King gave Alvaro his “royal assurance” (fe real) that he would “receive neither damage nor injury either in his person or in his estates and that nothing would be done to him against justice.”60 This security, the cronica adds, could not have satisfied the Master; but “seeing that he was in no position to defend himself, and that his troops did not respond to his call, he surrendered himself to prison.”61 We can well understand why the text of the security did not appeal to Alvaro. Its second part canceled in effect its first. The assurance that “nothing would be done to him against justice” implied that everything could be done to him if it was not against justice—and, in addition, what was just and unjust would of course be determined by the King. We see in the final, seemingly innocent clause, to which it was most difficult to object, the fine hand of an expert jurist such as the Relator or Alonso de Cartagena. With that escape clause, the bishop could accept formally, and without jeopardizing his honor, the King’s oath (whose declared intent was false) and give the King the legal freedom he needed to act against the constable as he wished. While the securities were being negotiated and “these matters, or rather these frauds,” as the cronica of Alvaro puts it, were transacted, the King was in the [public] square, and with him were the Bishop of Burgos, Don Alvaro de Estuniga, and a large number of people, on horse and on foot. 6‘ Alvaro de Estuniga was the commander of the force that was to attack Alvaro and seize him, dead or alive, if the negotiations for his voluntary surrender failed. He was the son of the Count of Plasencia, Alvaro’s implacable enemy, and himself most anxious to carry out the attack. Besides him, in the King s company, the biographer of Alvaro refers only to Cartagena who, inciden¬ tally, is mentioned first in order, no doubt as the man closest to the King and the most prominent of his counselors. He stayed there with the King awaiting

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the news of Alvaro’s consent to be imprisoned following his acceptance of the revised royal pledge, ready, if necessary, to advise the King what to do if Alvaro requested some other revision. In any case, he was there because he had to be there until the conspiracy was fully consummated. What can indicate more clearly the chronicler’s view of Cartagena’s complicity than his state¬ ment that the bishop was with the King while those “frauds”—i.e., false promises and deceptions—“were taking place”? If we are to believe Cantera, the bishop of Burgos was dull and dumb and knew nothing of what was happening around him; or he was extremely naive and credulous, and unwittingly served as a pliant tool in the hands of the King and his collaborators. But the bishop of Burgos was neither dumb nor naive. He was subtle, discreet, extremely careful; but he did not succeed in fooling Alvaro, who “knew well” that he was working for his ruin; nor did he succeed in fooling us, though time has dimmed, and almost erased, the traces of his role in the “Alvaro affair.” To Cantera it appeared “insidious” and “calumnious”63 to suggest that this man, “one of our most distinguished prelates,”64 was a leader in that nasty and bloody intrigue. But Cartagena was a son of his age; and he was not the only known author or bishop who engaged in such warfare. The Marquis of Santillana, bishop Lope de Barrientos, Alonso de Carrillo, arch¬ bishop ofToledo, Alonso de Fonseca, archbishop of Seville, and the historians Diego de Valera and Palencia are only few of his many known contemporaries who may be mentioned to illustrate that common rule. If the Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna supplies us with much or most of what we know of Alonso de Cartagena’s share in the conspiracy, other sources contain valuable information about the parts played in it by other conversos. Thus the Cronica de Enrique IV, which was composed by Alonso de Palencia, preserved an important piece of evidence which confirms Amador’s thesis— namely, that the conversos were involved in the promotion of the plot against Alvaro de Luna. This evidence, which escaped the attention of our great Spanish investiga¬ tor, relates to the major and final attempt to arrest Alvaro or kill him. Conceived or put in motion by Alonso Perez de Vivero, Alvaro’s former friend turned enemy, the plan was to induce the Count of Plasencia, the old and bitter foe of Alvaro, to dispatch to Burgos a military force that could overcome the Constable’s troops in the city and thus bring about Alvaro’s “end.” Accordingly, Vivero informed the Count of the King’s design con¬ cerning Alvaro de Luna and urgently asked him, in the King’s name, to provide military help. But the Count, suspicious of Vivero’s intentions, turned the offer down. In an effort to dispel the Count’s suspicions, the King sent Castilla, chief of his couriers, to Diego Lopez de Estuniga, the Count’s cousin, in the hope that the latter might help move the Count to offer his much needed aid. But this attempt, too, was to prove futile. The cousin, to

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be sure, tried to influence his uncle, but to no positive effect. The Count, now convinced that a conspiracy was afoot, turned down Castilla’s request, too. “He did this,” says Palencia, “because, not without reason, he feared the evil he could sustain from his adversary [namely, Alvaro] and the indolence and cowardliness of the King.”65 Then the King dispatched “with the same intent,” a third messenger to the Count. He was Luis Diaz de Toledo, “son of the beloved Relator,” and “once again the Count, moved by the same fear, gave the same answer.”66 This extraordinary piece of evidence sheds much light on the problem before us. It forms a central link in the chain of testimonies that one can offer in support of the thesis first presented by Amador de los Rios. Amador’s argument suffered considerably from his failure to note and use this testi¬ mony. We shall now see what it implies. Luis Diaz de Toledo, the son of Fernan Diaz, was not only distinguished by birth. He was doubtless endowed with no mean talents, since some Castilian leaders thought him worthy of occupying the office of his famous father. In May 1467 we find him acting as Relator in the government of Alfonso, Juan II’s son, who was raised to kingship by Archbishop Carrillo and the nobles who rebelled against Enrique IV.67 In the document testifying to this fact, he is also designated as "oidor e referendario del Rey, ” as the King’s “secretary” and “member of his Council,” and "notario mayor de los privilegios rodados”68—in brief, by all the titles that adorned the name and defined the authority of Fernan Diaz de Toledo.69 What concerns us at the moment is that in 1453, this able man enjoyed the full confidence of Juan II and was considered wise and persuasive enough to have a chance of succeeding where his predecessors had failed. But especially important, from our standpoint, is the fact that he was the King’s secret agent in the execution of the plan to seize Alvaro de Luna. This means that he was deeply involved in the plot—and of course not only he alone, but also his father, Fernan Diaz. As the son of the Relator, who was known as the King’s most faithful and most influential servant, he could, it was hoped, assure the Count that the offer was genuine and the plan sound. For, from the very acceptance by Luis Diaz of that mission, the Count could infer that the Relator was behind it, and aware as he was of the Relator’s sagacity, that inference should have led him to believe in the plan. And who indeed can doubt that this was the case—namely, that the Relator was a party to the plot? Surely if the Relator had not supported the attempts to seize Alvaro and divest him of his powers, he would not have let his son face the grave dangers which that mission entailed. No one knew better than the Relator what punishments he and his son could expect if Alvaro managed to weather the storm. In brief, Luis’ role in the conspiracy at that phase makes it not just probable but absolutely certain that his father was deeply involved

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in it; and the measure of the risks the Relator then took indicates both the depth of his involvement and the fierceness of his determination. But this, plus his closeness to the King as his most trusted confidant and most influential adviser, makes it evident that he was not just a collaborator, a theoretical supporter, or a member of the conspiracy, but one of its planners and prime movers.

VI

It seems that in the months preceding his arrest Alvaro never noticed that Fernan Diaz de Toledo was in collusion with his enemies; and this is why the latter was sent to him repeatedly in order to persuade him to surrender.70 Other messengers the King sent to Alvaro were also involved in the plot, and Alvaro failed to realize their involvement, too. In any case we have no indication that he saw through Fernan Diaz. It was only when the Constable was behind bars that the Relator took an open stand against him, clearly revealing where he stood in the attempt to destroy the powerful statesman. The facts related to this stand neatly tie up with the mission of his son to Estuniga, the Count of Plasencia, as well as with his effort to induce Alvaro to surrender just before he was arrested. In this matter he worked hand in hand with Cartagena, and both of course were aiming at the same result. But let us see what the Relator did after Alvaro’s arrest. In an anonymous document of the iyth century found in the archives of the Marquis de Villena, it is stated that “when King Juan II wished to have a judgment issued against the Master of Santiago, Alvaro de Luna, he invited nine jurists (letrados), in whom he had confidence.”71 To these jurists, who were joined by two noblemen, he presented his charges against the Master and asked their advice as to what to do about it. The first of the eleven jurors listed in this document was Fernan Diaz de Toledo, and it was also he whom the King first requested, in the presence of all the others, to express his opinion. The Relator then asked the King whether he was sure that all the things he said about the Constable were true. The King answered that he spoke with “certain knowledge” and that the assembled jurists could rely on what he said. In reaction to this, the Relator replied that, in this case, Alvaro deserved by right (segund derecho) the penalty of death and the loss of all his property to the chamber of the king.72 “This answer pleased the King greatly. And since the other jurists saw what the King wanted, they all followed the counsel of the said Relator.”73 Limited as it is to a few bare facts, this document conceals more than it reveals the Relator’s great part in Alvaro’s condemnation. One can hardly

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assume that it was then and there that the Relator first heard the King’s accusations against Alvaro, and that the question he addressed to the King in response was meant to clarify certain things he wished to know. Actually, the question was purely rhetorical; it was directed to the audience rather than the King, and in all probability, it was orchestrated with the King before that meeting. Similarly, the “opinion” he expressed on that occasion as to how Alvaro ought to be sentenced was no novelty to the King. Indubitably, Juan II knew, from the many talks he had with Fernan Diaz, that the latter favored the death penalty for Alvaro, and the “opinion” he asked the Relator to voice was intended of course not for himself, but for the jurists whose support he sought. Thus, both the King and the Relator imposed, in a few minutes, the whole weight of their authority on the counselors assembled; they hardly gave them a chance for deliberation; and the Relator’s opinion soon won over the whole group to the King’s side. Had not a hitch occurred soon thereafter, the verdict would have stood as given and the Relator’s part in the affair might have been over. But two jurists, members of the King’s Council, who were not present at this gather¬ ing (perhaps because they were absent from the town), expressed their wish to take part in the discussions concerning Alvaro’s fate. The King, who did not want the sentence to look hurried, or issued by his own picked judges, had no choice but to call a second meeting. No doubt he suspected that the two councillors might object to the contents of the verdict; yet he said, as something he had taken for granted, that what they sought was to determine the form of its execution.74 However, what took place in the second meeting was far from being in accord with his assertion. The two councillors, Franco and Zurbano, initiated a reconsideration of the judgment; and as the afore¬ mentioned document tells us, there developed, as a result, a sharp dispute among the jurists and the unanimity they had displayed in the first meeting could not be restored.75 Finally, however, they agreed to confirm the sen¬ tence advocated by the Relator—not as judgment based on legal procedure (por sentencia), but as a mere order of the King, whose directions they were in duty bound to obey.76 If we add the information included in that document to what we gather from the Cronica de Juan II, we may conclude that even this resolution was achieved with great difficulty. Shortly after presenting his case against Alvaro before the first meeting of the jurists, Juan II left for Maqueda and Escalona, the fortresses of Alvaro held by his captains which the King had to besiege.77 He realized that as long as Alvaro was alive, his men would resist surrender, and this increased his desire to have Alvaro sentenced and executed as soon as possible. He must have been greatly disappointed upon learning of the disagreement that had developed among the jurists, but he ordered the discussions to be renewed, this time with the participation of additional

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jurists and also of certain noblemen and prelates. We may assume that these noblemen and prelates were all confirmed opponents of Alvaro. Neverthe¬ less, the discussions lasted for two days, and it was only then that those assembled subscribed to the death sentence against Alvaro—however, as indicated, not as a court judgment but as a royal order.78 When the King met with them to hear their verdict, they asked the Relator to communicate their decision, in the presence of all of them, to the King. He said: Senor, all the noblemen and doctors of your Council who are present here and I believe that also those who are absent will agree to join with us in this matter. Having seen and recognized all the deeds and things committed by the Master of Santiago Don Alvaro de Luna in your disservice and in harm of the public cause of your Kingdoms, and how he had usurped the Royal Crown, and how he tyrannized and robbed you of your rents, we find that it is right (por derecho) that he be decapitated, that his head be cut off and placed on a high pike on a scaffold for a number of days, so that his punishment may serve as an example for all the great of your kingdom.79 This declaration may appear to contradict what we said above about the basis of the sentence issued against Alvaro de Luna. But it does not. When the Relator said that the members of the council who considered Alvaro de Luna’s case found him to deserve the death penalty "por derecho," he deliber¬ ately used here an ambiguous expression that could mean both rightly and properly—i.e., according to proper procedure. By using this term, he not only weakened the negative side of the decision made, but also brought up its positive aspect, which we gather from his very formulation. For while the councillors found it impossible to render judgment according to the require¬ ments of the lave, they could say that, in their studied opinion (and that meant on the basis of what they knew), Alvaro deserved capital punishment, and hence, if the king sentenced him to death, they would treat his decision as a just order and accordingly subscribe to it as members of his Council. It was of course a limited consent given on the basis of a hard-won compromise, but it enabled the King to do by consent what otherwise he would have had to do without it. There is no doubt that this achievement, too, must be credited mainly to the Relator. Not in vain did the councillors ask him to present their common decision to the King. By this they indicated not only their recognition of his authority as jurist, but also of his leading part in the debates that culminated in the above conclusion. And just as it was his proposal that was unanimously accepted by the jurists in their first meeting, it was probably again his formula—or one to which he gave his consent—that was unanimously agreed upon in the final stage of the discus¬ sions on the verdict.

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The conclusion we may draw from the data we have analyzed seems to us incontrovertible. The Relator’s participation in the attempts to persuade Alvaro that he deliver himself voluntarily to the King; the fact that his son was sent by the King to enlist the Estunigas in the plan to seize Alvaro; and above all, the role he played in the Council in order to obtain Alvaro’s condemnation, all show that he was a leading force in the conspiracy and, as the Relator and the King’s confidant, one of the guides and inspirers of the King’s crucial anti-Alvarian drive. As far as the conversos were concerned, the Relator was undoubtedly their central figure in the plot, and he was joined in this with the bishop of Burgos, whose support he must have sought. It is indeed unthinkable that the Relator undertook such a critical and dangerous task—dangerous not only to him personally but also to the con¬ versos, on whose behalf he worked—without receiving the consent and cooperation of the highest authority of the conversos in Castile. In fact, our knowledge—indeed our certainty—of the Relators deep involvement in that affair confirms our interpretation of the various passages in the sources suggesting that the bishop was involved. Our conclusion therefore is that these two men, who jointly led the anti-Toledan campaign in their common struggle for converso rights, continued in that struggle throughout the Alvarian crisis until their objectives were achieved.

VII

This is not to say that all leading conversos had a share in, or were aware of the conspiracy (the number of these must have been very small), but all leading conversos—and the conversos generally—shared a strong desire to see Alvaro ruined. The growth of that desire no doubt coincided with the spread among their ranks of the definite news of Alvaro’s deal with the Toledans. Thus, the conversos became known to one and all as part of Alvaro’s political opposition. This must have happened in 1451, even before the Castilian public was informed of the bulls of November 20. It is difficult, however, to pinpoint the time at which that opposition was galvanized into conspiracy. Presumably, it first manifested itself in cautious, controlled, but cutting criticisms, systematically expressed on every occasion when fault could be found with Alvaro’s performance. The purpose of this campaign was common to all these critics and did not require a formal decision. The purpose was the same as that of the nobles who had sought Alvaro’s removal from office: to cause a breach between Alvaro and the King, the source of Alvaro’s power. We have seen that during the dissension of 1440, the nobles demanded the dismissal of Fernan Diaz from the position of Relator. They declared him to be Alvaro’s agent, advocate and shield in the King’s Court. As we have

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indicated, there must have been truth in what they said regarding the Rela¬ tor’s special share in the promotion of the King’s trust in Alvaro and, conse¬ quently, in Alvaro’s omnipotent rule. But the nobles were powerless to effect their wish, because the King’s faith in the Relator remained unbroken, as did the Relator’s faith in Alvaro. Now the conversos could finally accomplish what the nobles had sought in vain to achieve—and they accomplished it not by having Fernan Diaz removed from his position as Relator, but rather by his continued presence in that position as the man closest to the King. Alvaro’s prestige with the King would suffer even if the Relator merely stopped defending him. All the more so if, on suitable occasions, he made critical remarks against the constable. Such censures by the Relator may have been sufficient to change the King’s attitude toward Alvaro. But there is no doubt that the same procedure was repeated by other New Christians in the Court whose advice was highly regarded by the monarch. Alonso de Cartagena was surely one of these, as is indicated from all his relations with the King; but besides him there were other conversos who were high in the King’s esteem (they comprised a large part of the royal Council).80 It was sufficient for these councillors to stop defending Alvaro, and show dissatisfaction with his actions, to undermine the King’s faith in the Constable and whatever affection he still felt for him.81 We say “still” because, judging by the sources, the King’s former great affection for Alvaro had been gradually dwindling for some time. The change is attributed by many historians to the King’s second wife, Isabel of Portugal, who fell out with Alvaro for a variety of reasons,82 although it was thanks to Alvaro’s insistence that the King married her and not the beautiful Regunda, daughter of the King of France.83 That Isabel influenced the King’s attitude toward Alvaro may be judged a reasonable assumption; but the claims that it was at her instigation that the King finally decided to destroy him are, most probably, exaggerated.84 In our opinion, there were other motives (besides the insidious agitation referred to) for the King’s total change of heart. Since his early youth, Kingjuan II had been under Alvaro de Luna’s spell both because of Alvaro’s personal influence and his deeds on behalf of the Crown. These deeds spoke for themselves. The King cherished Alvaro as his “protector,” as the one who assured his very survival against the predatory Infantes of Aragon. In time, however, this attitude changed; the fascination that Alvaro held for him decreased until finally, by 1452, it reached the vanishing point. Alvaro was now sixty-five years old, devoid of the charms of his youth and early manhood, as well as the brilliance that had character¬ ized his thinking before he reached old age.85 And as for the forces that threatened the King’s rule, they had virtually been eliminated. Navarre was defeated, the Moslems were beaten, most of the rebellious nobles were subdued, and Toledo was pacified.86 Never had the country been so inter-

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nally peaceful and free from external danger. Alvaro had finally managed to achieve this, and now he no longer appeared indispensable. Yet this did not mark the end in the King’s change of attitude. For once Alvaro was not viewed as indispensable, he began to be seen as superfluous and, as time went on, actually harmful. Politically, Alvaro was now judged not an asset but a liability—a factor that prevented the achievement of real peace between the King and the nobility. And personally, too, he was felt as a disturbance. Alvaro’s old habit of watching the King and interfering in his way of life was becoming more and more unbearable to the monarch. Inevita¬ bly, Juan II was eager to shake off Alvaro’s oppressive burden. But there was another important reason that ultimately combined all these considerations into a final decision. For years the King was persuaded by Alvaro that he was the Vicar of God on earth and that he should demonstrate this in his government.87 The Cortes of Olmedo (1445) gave him that right; but he never dared put it into effect except when Alvaro was there to support him. Eventually, however, these notions, oft-repeated, penetrated the King’s thoughts and feelings and, when conditions appeared to him propitious, he came to believe that indeed he was “God’s Vicar” and, furthermore, wished to act like one. Yet he was prevented from fulfilling his wish for the very reason that Alvaro was there, keeping tabs on all matters, internal and external, and assuming most functions of govern¬ ment. In fact, the very presence of Alvaro in the Court and the fame he had acquired as the King’s “master,” made a farce of any pretense by Juan to absolute rule and kingship by divine right. Alvaro therefore had to go; and nothing could prove the reality of the King’s power, his total independence and supreme authority, more than Alvaro’s removal from government and, above all, his death on the gallows.88 Alvaro built the monster of the absolute king, and the monster finally destroyed him. It was when all these factors converged in the King’s desire to oust Alvaro from the Court that the conversos could move Juan II to translate that desire into action. Alvaro began his quarrel with the conversos when he was in an extremely perilous situation, but without realizing how vulnerable he was and how vital the conversos’ help was for him. Had they backed him then as they did in the past, he would probably have escaped disaster. But rather than defending, he chose to attack them, and consequently lost the only solid friendship he had ever had in his political life. Thus he sealed his own fate. This virtually explains what happened. But one or two more points must be touched upon to round off the picture. As we noted, Alvaro’s power was broken by the combined efforts of the conversos and the King, with the aid of some Old Christian members of the bureaucracy that had been built up by Alvaro himself. But the great nobles, who for so many years had fought Alvaro in so many ways, had little to do with the attempt. They were so

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disheartened by their previous defeats, and so impressed by Alvaro’s sagacity and proverbial ability to survive all dangers, that they would not even dare take determined action against the cunning and dangerous foe. This is why the King found it so difficult to enlist the Count ofPlasencia for his plan. And when finally Estuniga was persuaded to act, he placed the force he sent to Burgos under the command of two men in whose loyalty he could have absolute faith. One was his son Alvaro de Estuniga and the other was Diego de Valera. The latter, to be sure, was in the service of Estuniga, but he was also a converso.89 This could give the Count added assurance that Valera would do everything in his power to see the mission through. And he did. Thus we see the conversos present in every phase of the effort to destroy Alvaro. They were active in his seizure, his surrender to the King, and finally in sentencing him to death; and this without ignoring the great share of Perez de Vivero in the conspiracy.90 When Alvaro went over to the Toledans’ side, he was sure that the conversos could not hurt him. That was so because he treated them as Jews; and nojew in Spain had ever risen against a statesman of such great stature. But the conversos were not Jews; they were Christians; and they had a basis in Christian society that thejews could never have. Thus they were able to act politically as the Christian Spaniards did. In fact, they followed Alvaro’s example and fought him with the weapons he used so expertly—the weapons of intrigue, conspiracy and surprise, with which he defeated his foes. It is not our intention at this point to judge the conversos’ action against Alvaro by our own moral standards. But to understand that action, it is necessary, we believe, that we try to comprehend their own moral judgments. It is difficult to see how the Marranos could blame themselves when they pondered their conspiracy against the Constable. As far as they were con¬ cerned, they were at war with Alvaro, for they considered his new policy against them tantamount to a declaration of war upon their group; and in such circumstances they felt entitled to fight him with the same methods employed by the nobles who were likewise at war with him. Moreover, morally they considered their own battle far more justified than that of the nobles. For the nobles fought for the preservation of their power, their wealth and all that went with it. The conversos had such goals in mind, too; yet what moved them to take the extreme steps they did was their need to protect more vital interests. What they fought for were their rights as citizens—in fact, their very survival. In such struggles, which are essentially defensive, and unavoidable in the face of the alternatives, hardly any means are ruled out. Any political and military measure that may seem helpful in defeating the enemy is rarely discarded for moral reasons. The Marranos could not see this otherwise. But not only from the standpoint of wartime morality and the considera¬ tions of their self-defense, but also from the standpoint of peacetime moral-

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ity, the Marranos no doubt saw themselves in the right. Amador de los Rios viewed their conspiracy against Alvaro de Luna as an act of treason, ingrati¬ tude and moral perversity. But this was because he had not discerned the developments preceding the conflict and its causes. According to Amador, it was an evil intention that produced an evil design; and thus he portrayed the conversos as the villains and Alvaro as the innocent victim. Reality, however, was different. It was not the conversos who attacked the Constable but the Constable who attacked the conversos, and if any kind of betrayal was involved here, it was certainly not on the conversos’ part, but rather on the part of Alvaro. This is, we believe, how the conversos saw the case from their own vantage point. However deeply they probed their own conduct, political or religious, they could find nothing in it to justify the drastic change in Alvaro’s stand toward their group. Consequently, they concluded that the only reason for it was his desire to control Toledo and thereby secure and promote his interests. Practically, it meant that he paid for his own gains with their rights, their possessions and their very lives. In their eyes he was guilty of a conduct that rendered him unfit for public office. And this, basically, dictated their position. They had seen themselves obliged to serve Alvaro and aid him as long as he behaved as the King’s first minister—that is, as long as they could honestly believe that he was acting for the public good. But now that he had joined their enemies, who jeered at the laws that protected all citizens, and no longer served the interests of the country, but rather of one radical faction, such belief was no longer possible. Consequently, they saw themselves under no obligation to support him further. On the contrary, they saw themselves in duty bound to fight him. This was no doubt the conversos’ moral stand in their quarrel with Alvaro de Luna, and this was the position that their foremost leaders, like Alonso de Cartagena and Fernan Diaz de Toledo, could have publicly defended with great brilliance and conviction had they been in a position to do so. Such a position, however, was denied them by the very nature of the struggle they were waging—i.e., their clandestine method of warfare. In fact, so discreet were they in this matter that even many years after Alvaro’s death, they thought it vital to guard their secret. This is why the chroniclers of the iyth century—and even those that remained uncensored—found little evidence to support the suspicions which their authors undoubtedly nurtured. This is also why today so much effort is required to recover the traces of some of the steps that led to that scaffold in Valladolid.

III. Closing the Circle However illegal Alvaro’s death sentence appeared to many of Castile’s lead¬ ing jurists, there can be no doubt that his public execution raised the prestige ofjuan II in the eyes of the populace, as well as the nobility. A monarch who could send Alvaro to the gallows could no longer be viewed as the tool or puppet of his famous all-powerful favorite. Juan II was now seen as a King who could make hard decisions and enforce them, whatever the difficulties involved. Inevitably, he was now judged capable of subduing anyone in the kingdom whom he hated or opposed; and he came to be considered more cruel and vindictive than he had generally been held before. Some of the nobles who had long desired to take over Alvaro’s position in the Court now must have had second thoughts. Juan II, as it turned out, was not at all easy to control; he was dangerous to collide with; and those who offended him risked terrible retribution. If this was the lesson drawn from Alvaro’s fall by aspirants to the late Constable’s office, the lesson drawn by the urban oligarchies—especially by their chiefs, who had dealings with the King—could not have been very different. This must have been particularly the case with some, if not all, of the leaders of Toledo—a city whose insubordination to the King had become a mark of its identity. Having just emerged from a state of rebellion after long and bitter negotiations, they knew that the king had agreed to pardon them, and give them other important concessions, in return for their future obedi¬ ence. But they also knew that this royal consent was of Alvaro de Luna’s making; and now that the powerful Constable was gone, his achievement might go with him. The King could declare his consent null and void, a product of deceit and misinformation given him by the fallen minister. In fact, such a development seemed not merely likely but bound to happen— and sooner rather than later. For Alvaro’s fall, they knew, coincided with the phenomenal rise of the Relator’s influence, and they could have no doubt that this clever man, now virtually in the saddle of power, would soon move the King to dispatch them new instructions concerning the conversos. It was not difficult for the Relator to convince the King that the legal discrimination against the conversos in Toledo, which went counter to the national law, was a festering wound in Castile’s body politic, and that the King’s authority would inevitably suffer if the Toledans were allowed to have their way. No argument could appeal more to the King, who indubitably was thinking along the same lines. But besides the position of the Relator on this issue, which in itself could be decisive, there was another factor that made the Toledans realize the

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precariousness of their situation. This was the role that Fray Lope de Bar¬ rientos, bishop of Cuenca, played in the new administration. The Toledans were of course aware that Fray Lope, now one of the King’s two chief councillors,1 was a staunch ally of the New Christians and unreservedly opposed to the Sentencia and the anti-converso policy it represented. And thus, faced with the combined force of the King, the Relator and the indomi¬ table bishop, the Toledans understood that if they were ordered by the King to abandon their anti-converso policies, they would have no choice but to obey the order without further ado. From a cedula issued by Enrique IV on June io, 1471 we gather that converso rights denied by the “Sentencia” had been restored in Toledo—de facto and de jure—before 1465.2 But we cannot determine from that cedula the year in which this happened. The question has never been broached by scholars, but bearing in mind that only ten months passed from Alvaro’s death to that ofjuan II, one might assume that the change took place during Enrique IV’s reign. Definite proof, however, is available that converso equal¬ ity in Toledo was restored in Juan II’s lifetime. The evidence attesting this is included in Juan II’s will, dated Valladolid, July 8,1454. It reads as follows: Because certain Toledan citizens and residents were banished from Toledo during the time when the city was seized by Sarmiento, and because later I wanted to provide for the expelled the remedy of justice, I have restored them to their offices and possessions, and ordered that they be welcomed and received and well treated in Toledo, under¬ standing that this would be necessary for the service of God and myself and for the discharge of [the duties of] my conscience. And since I wanted [when I made these provisions] that those who were banished from the city should serve me with a certain quantity of doblas, now, having qualms of conscience in this matter, I order that no one demand from the aforesaid the sum referred to above or any part thereof, or take from them any other thing due to the abovementioned matter. Especially [do I consider this regulation proper] since the aforesaid have already suffered exile and received many other harms for my service and for taking my side [against the rebels]. For this reason it is my wish and favor that these provisions be fully carried out and that for no cause or reason related to the above be anything demanded from those people or from others; nor would they have to pay for that matter anything at all.3 In the foregoing we have tried to reconstruct the struggle between the city and the King over the conversos’ rights, and touched, among other things, on the city’s refusal to readmit the conversos whom Sarmiento had expelled, robbed of their property and discharged from their positions, which were given to Old Christians. We have seen that the King had committed himself

REVERSES

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TRIUMPHS

[

71*

to the city’s position in this matter, and that in taking this stand he was greatly embarrassed vis-a-vis the conversos. From the passage we have cited from his will, however, we see that he later reversed his position; he allowed the exiles to return to the city and also restored their offices and estates. What brought about this reversal? The primary reason was undoubtedly the abolition of the SentenciaEstatuto. Had the Sentencia remained in force, the King’s order could not have been issued. It would have been ludicrous to permit the banished conversos to return and resume their offices in the city while denying the conversos who had not been banished the right to hold office. But apart from this self-evident deduction, there is another point we should bear in mind. The King says that he permitted the exiles to resume their former positions in Toledo in accord with the requirements of justice, which clearly means that the refusal to do so was against those requirements. But what was wrong for the expelled conversos was also wrong for those who stayed on; and it would seem unthinkable for the King to allow the same injustice to be practiced against one part of the group when it was forbidden to be inflicted on another. Thus we must conclude that all conversos were freed from the strictures of the Statute. There remains the question of the reason for the fine that the expelled were ordered to pay the King. As we do not know what arguments were made in this connection, we cannot answer the question definitely. It is possible, however, that the expulsion was presented by some of the Toledans who opposed the repatriation not as an act against the conversos generally, but as punishment of those who had assailed Old Christians with the intent of causing them harm or death. The charge may have referred to what hap¬ pened in Toledo during the skirmishes between the Old and New Christians shortly after the city was captured by the rebels.4 And if this was indeed the Old Christians’ argument, the King may have seen fit, while cancelling the expulsion verdict, to impose a fine on the accused New Christians. In conse¬ quence, the exiles were forced to commit themselves to make the stipulated payments. Understandably, the conversos considered the imposition entirely un¬ called for. They viewed it as a burden unjustly placed upon the shoulders of the returned exiles, and also as a potential reason for a future campaign by their adversaries. Referring to the exiles’ payments to the King, these adver¬ saries might claim that they returned to the city not by right, but in the usual converso way—through bribery and appeals to the cupidity of the rulers. To remove the basis from such a possible claim, it was necessary to change the King’s ruling. This brings us to the last phase of this unusual incident. By including the aforecited clause in his testament, no doubt at the request of the Relator or

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Don Lope, the King, on his deathbed, admitted his error, recognized the injustice of his demand, and freed the exiles from any payment for their restored rights in Toledo. The final reason given for this revision may have hinted at the answer offered by the exiles to the charges advanced by their forces: If they were involved in skirmishes and hurt anyone, it was because they “took the King’s side” against the rebels, and for that they should not be punished but praised. This was apparently the last point the conversos wished to win—and won—in their battle for legal equality.

BOOK THREE

ENRIQUE IV AND THE CATHOLIC KINGS 1454—1480

CHAPTER

I

Enrique IV: His Aims and Tactics I454-I474

I. The Baffling King

T

i

here can be no doubt thatjuan ITs death was seen at the time as a severe blow to converso hopes and interests. In the brief period of his post-

Alvarian rule, Juan II did much for the conversos. He restored their legal equality in Toledo and brought their exiles back home. But full normaliza¬ tion of relations in the city could not follow as a matter of course. A few years of a resolute administration, imbued with a pro-converso attitude, were obviously needed for the state of affairs to resume its former shape. In the meantime, the conversos were still smarting from the wounds inflicted upon them by the Toledan persecution, and the anti-Marranos were still seething with rage over their recent political defeats. Both parties were evidently restless, and both must have speculated with no little anxiety over the new King’s policies and forthcoming appointments. In 1454, when he was enthroned, Don Enrique’s political past could not offer any clue to the stand he was to take on the Marrano question. To be sure, in Toledo, on several occasions, he had shown his resentment over the brutal treatment of the conversos by Sarmiento’s administration. On the other hand, the permit he gave Sarmiento to leave Toledo with his immense loot (mostly stolen from Marranos) seemed to indicate a lack of consideration for Marrano feelings and demands.1 So also did his negotiations with the Toledans, during which he showed himself repeatedly prepared to trade Marrano rights for his own benefit.2 The record of his behavior toward the conversos, therefore, was on balance more negative than positive. Yet since he was reputed to be acting under pressures imposed by his struggle against Alvaro de Luna, the question remained hanging in the air: Was Enrique the

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King, who enjoyed full authority, going to act differently from Enrique the Prince, who, while groping for power, pursued vacillating policies and em¬ ployed opportunistic tactics? Nobody could answer that question definitely at the moment of his coronation. But the question seemed to be answered shortly after he was crowned king. When he finished appointing his first administration, it appeared to be tilted toward the conversos. Fernan Diaz de Toledo retained his post as Relator;3 Barrientos became major chancellor of the kingdom4; and Alvar Garcia de Villareal, a New Christian, was appointed personal secretary to the King.5 Soon thereafter, the conversos in the administration were further strength¬ ened by two appointments: the King made Diego Arias Davila (the financial manager of his private estate) Treasurer and Contador Mayor of the kingdom, and Alvar Garcia de Villareal was replaced by his relative Alvar Gomez de Cibdad Real.6 According to Enriquez del Castillo, the King’s chronicler, Enrique was to put “more faith in Alvar Gomez than he placed in any other secretary.”7 The New Christians, therefore, had reason for optimism about the new regime. The King was evidently far from prejudiced, religiously or other¬ wise, against the conversos, and the fact that three key positions in the government—those of relator, treasurer, and secretary—were occupied by New Christians could suggest to some that Enrique’s administration was a replica of Juan II’s. Formally headed by Lope de Barrientos, it could be viewed by New Christians as a proconverso government. That it was so perceived by most Marrano-haters need scarcely be said. The latter doubt¬ less saw in it proof of their theory that a secret Jewish clique had taken over the country and placed all the Christians at its mercy. Both these New and Old Christian assessments were of course highly exaggerated. The most one can say in this connection is that Enrique’s government did not discriminate against conversos and was not unmindful of converso rights. In any case, in the first eight years of his reign (that is, until 1462), we have no indication that Enrique’s administration would permit anti-Marrano disturbances or allow them to pass with impunity. The conver¬ sos were thus given the government they needed for at least a few years after Juan II’s death, so that their newly gained equality in Toledo could strike deeper roots. It is hard to overestimate the importance of this fact in view of the great influence that Toledo exercised, politically and ecclesiastically, on the rest of the country. The triumph of the conversos in this contested area reaffirmed the feeling they had nurtured for decades—namely, that they were in Castile to stay and that, protected by the laws and shielded by the kings, they could surmount all hostile opposition. Reinforced, this feeling—or rather this conviction—stimulated the con¬ versos to continue their advance in every possible direction. Accordingly, the

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first eight years of Enrique’s reign were a period of expansion for converso activity, both economic and administrative. But it cannot be said that this expansion was matched by increasing political influence. The Relator may have retained his fame and authority as jurist, councillor and administrator, but we have no indication that, at any time, he enjoyed close relations with the King. In any case, he died in 1456, less than two years after Enrique’s coronation; and one year later, in 1457, the New Christians suffered another great loss through the death of Alonso de Cartagena. The new generation of Castile’s Marranos had produced no men of stature to match these leaders in civil courage and political astuteness. The conversos holding high posi¬ tions at Court were career politicians of undoubted ability, but not of such stuff as men like Cartagena and Fernan Diaz de Toledo were made on. We must assume that the decline of converso leadership at court was paralleled by a decline in converso prestige. We have referred to the Marrano courtiers of Enrique as the “converso leadership” of that period. Actually, however, we have no evidence that any of these courtiers performed any function on behalf of the conversos as a group. Nevertheless, we believe that by virtue of their positions, which made them prime targets of the Marranos’ foes, they could hardly avoid taking an interest in their group, or being involved in some of its affairs, especially at crucial junctures. Yet whether there was a central leadership or not, there was a general converso policy that set guidelines for the conversos’ conduct, which were usually accepted by them all.

II

Enrique IV was a complex man, tugged by conflicting ideas and ambitions. He considered kingship, rightly exercised, the highest and noblest form of government, but hated much of its paraphernalia and its routine administra¬ tive duties. He accepted pomp and ceremony as inevitable, but did not truly appreciate or like them, and consequently did not enjoy court life, with its many formalities and artificial restrictions. He was a man of simple tastes and habits, uncommon among the nobles of his time, but took up the nobles’ sport of hunting, of which he became exceedingly fond. Bearing no bias against plebeians, he could enjoy their company, recognize their merits and readily raise them to high office. He demanded of his subjects loyalty and obedience, but rejected all manifestations of servility (such as kissing hands) and used the plural form of speech in addressing every man, even a child. He was also generous and liked to help the needy (often anonymously), without once mentioning any favor he did, or wishing to be reminded of any. His chroni¬ cler Castillo said of him: “A King without pride, a friend to the humble, disdainful of the arrogant.”8

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As a ruler, he hated to enforce his will and preferred the most wearisome negotiations to the use of violence and compulsion. His foreign policy was marked by a search for peace, but he did not exclude war, if he considered it “just” (like the war against Granada),9 or highly beneficial to the security of the kingdom (like the battle of Aragon and Navarre10). He especially opposed the use of force as a means of settling internal conflicts, and pre¬ ferred the least satisfactory compromise to the ravages of civil war. He showed great consideration for human weakness, often forgiving even con¬ firmed traitors, and sometimes—when in straits—he even sought to win their loyalty by unconcealed appeals to their greed. If one may regard such attempts as dishonorable, one must also assume—in fairness to Enrique— that he gave some thought to the available alternatives and to what he considered the lesser evil. An honest Catholic, he was no fanatic, could feel sympathy for Jews and Moors (as could other kings in the peninsula), and even chose to entrust the safety of his person to a Moslem rather than a Christian bodyguard.11 It need hardly be said that Enrique’s habits, as well as some of his methods of government, occasionally aroused the consterna¬ tion of friends and the criticism of antagonists. The criticism, however, was largely subdued in the first decade (or half) of his reign, which Pulgar regarded as one of “peace,” though it knew no respite from mounting frictions. It became caustic in its second decade, which started with rebellion and remained turbulent to the end. Deferring the discussion of the cause of this rebellion to a later point, we shall touch here only briefly on the major aim of the rebels’ campaign. That aim was to ruin the King’s reputation and thereby destroy his popular support. It was rightly said that, apart from Pedro I, no Castilian king was so defamed. Not only were all the kingdom’s troubles (real and imagined) laid at his door, but they were also ascribed, in increasing measure, to his “criminal proclivities,” his “cruelty” and his “perversion.” In sum, Enrique was portrayed, publicly and personally, as a hideous misfit, alternately or simultaneously accused of tyranny, heresy and treason. That these characterizations were plainly absurd, and incredible to anyone who knew him, need not lead us to assume that they were ineffective in mobilizing public opinion against him. Most people lack independent judg¬ ment, tend to deny altruistic motives, and often rely on repeated rumor more than on what they have seen with their own eyes. These common traits of human nature, which make every persistent vilification so dangerous, applied of course to Enrique too, so that the constant dragging of his name through the mud inevitably had its effect. What is surprising in his case is the firm faith that so many of his subjects retained in him throughout; but much of the dirt thrown at him stuck. The charge of impotence, of which his enemies accused him, was especially damaging and hard to rebut.

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The difficulty, which was apparent from the outset, became compounded in Enrique’s last years, when his half-sister Isabella claimed the right to succeed him on the grounds of his alleged impotence. In the last analysis, Isabella won the argument, not by the recognized rightness of her claim but by the power of the sword, or the victory of her armies over those of Juana, the king’s daughter. But she also wished to win the moral battle—i.e., to “legitimize” her rule; and in compliance with this wish, her agents and admirers kept harping everywhere on Enrique’s impotence. Skillful chroni¬ clers, headed by Palencia, knew how to bequeath the notion to posterity.12 In consequence, the scurrilous contemporary campaign was perpetuated by historiography. The prevailing view of Enrique in literature was summarized by a modern scholar who said: “They called him impotent, and this is what he was in every sense of the word.”13 Of Spain’s pre-modern leading historians it was only Mariana who re¬ jected the claim concerning Enrique’s impotence.14 Of the modern scholars, it was J. B. Sitges who, in his study of Enrique (1912), first challenged that claim, subjected it to detailed critical analysis, and rebutted Palencia’s judg¬ ment of the King.15 Sitges was followed by Orestes Ferrara, who likewise centered his attack on Palencia, describing him as a “perfidious chronicler,” a hireling serving the King’s enemies.16 Both made a determined effort to clear Enrique’s name and sullied reputation, but their arguments hardly made a dent. Only most recently did Sitges and Ferrara finally receive the support they deserved. The documentary revelations of Tarsicio de Azcona17 and the sound conclusions drawn from them by Hillgarth18 laid to rest some wrong notions about Enrique and brought him closer to historical reality. As we see it, Lafuente’s portrayal of Enrique as a “cowardly King, indolent and irresolute,”19 or the picture of him presented by Ballesteros as a man of “weak will” and “scant energy,”20 have little to do with historical truth. Enrique was no coward, as he often courted danger,21 and he was not lazy, for he fre¬ quently pursued, with great exertion of body and mind, objectives he deemed to be vital for the state; nor was he irresolute or weak-willed but, as Valera indicated, “willful”; for he tenaciously followed his own will, while rejecting counsels with which he disagreed.22 His failure to take action when urged to do so was not always due, as some thought, to “indecisiveness,” but, in most cases, to his firm decision, often arrived at after much contemplation, to refrain from taking action in certain situations. Yet while these observations may remove some of the obscurity that shrouds Enrique’s life, there still remain elements in his behavior that are extremely hard to comprehend. We shall try to explain them at least in part, so as to clarify some of the events that characterized Enrique’s ill-fated reign.

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III

The enigmatic part of Enrique’s biography belongs almost exclusively to the period of unrest that comprised the second half of his reign. There is hardly anything mysterious or inexplicable in his conduct as prince and heir apparent; and at least on the surface, there was nothing bizarre in his behavior as king in his first “peaceful” decade. But in the second decade, during which he had to cope with a series of betrayals and assaults upon his honor, he assumed a different appearance as ruler. Enrique of this period was generally misconceived, not only by historians, but also by contemporaries, including his most intimate associates. In fact, the more the treacheries multiplied, the stranger he seemed to his faithful servants and the more unlike the prince they recalled from bygone years and the king they had known heretofore. There was undoubtedly an anomalous streak in Enrique’s general behav¬ ior as ruler which ought not to be ignored (and on this we shall touch later). But there was also a perfectly normal factor influencing his position on a variety of issues—a factor reflected in many of his statements, which were faithfully reported by the chronicler Castillo. We refer to his particular view of kingship—a view to which his modern biographers have paid little or no attention. Like most kings of his age, Enrique claimed that kingship is held by divine right—but unlike many other monarchs of his time, Enrique sincerely be¬ lieved in that claim. The idea may have been implanted in his mind with special force by Alvaro de Luna, his adversary, who taught him that kings by divine right had absolute authority over their subjects. But this absolutism was not judged by Enrique to be what the term so often suggested. To be sure, it imposed on the subjects obedience to all the king’s commands and instructions, but it did not allow the king to issue orders not viewed by him as necessary for the people’s welfare. Enrique’s concept of the king (so commonly upheld) as the representative of God’s power on earth was merged in his thinking with the parallel concept—the one he could learn from Marcos Garcia—that the king was essentially a vicar of Christ in guarding and promoting Christ’s moral teachings. As such he must follow in Christ’s footsteps, care for the people, show them mercy and compassion, and be ready to forgive them the injuries they had caused him by their folly, ignorance, or uncontrolled passions.23 Enrique expressed the essence of this view in his coronation address when he said: It sometimes happens that great power moves rulers to do evil rather than good, and that absolute authority induces great princes to employ fury more than gracious kindness. It is therefore necessary that those who have reached such heights, if they wish to follow the true pattern

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of nobility and be considered true nobles, be clothed in clemency and girded with pity. For the power and command of the royal person, the ruling and governing of the virtuous King, are placed in him only to make him magnanimous, gracious and benign, forgetful of the injuries he had suffered and grantor of rewards for services.24 Castillo included this statement in his chronicle along with other docu¬ mentary material. It was not a statement composed by the chronicler on the model of those written by classical historians on appropriate occasions. It was a speech heard by many magnates and prelates, members of the chronicler’s own generation, and confirmed by many other statements which the King uttered in other circumstances. Thus, touching on the subject of kingship from another angle, Enrique once said to one of his officials: If we consider properly the royal dignity, and how God created it to rule the worldfor the universal good of all, [we shall realize] that kings were not born to care for their own interests, or to do only those things which concern themselves, but to be useful to all and seek the benefit of the many . . . [Hence,] the good Kings should be such friends of their subjects and so partial to generosity, that they should aid them all and be happy in so doing.25 It need scarcely be said that a king holding such views, and so deeply concerned about his people’s well-being, would be strongly disinclined to expose them to war, and especially to a war waged on his own behalf. Accordingly, in 1465, when he disbanded his large army then besieging Valladolid, where his enemies’ forces were shut up, he addressed his troops in the following words, which reflect, perhaps more than his other pro¬ nouncements, his attitude toward war and his theory of kingship: All Christian Kings, because they rule on earth in the name ofjesus Christ, have to be fathers of their subjects, their guardians and protec¬ tors; [and therefore they have] to remove them from death and secure for them life. For this reason, having compassion over my subjects, and especially over so many noblemen, both men of high station [hombres de estado] and small Caballeros, and the other people who are united in my service, I have decided to lift the siege without giving the enemies battle.26 This was certainly a remarkable statement, the like of which may not be found in the recorded utterances of any other king. Yet however far-reaching in its implications, it presented only part of Enrique’s view of government. The other part was formed by his stand toward punishment, especially when related to antiroyal deeds. To one of the rebels who was caught by his men and confessed that he had intended to kill him, he said: “Juan Carrillo, it is

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not a great thing for me to forgive you the crimes you have committed against me, for it is incumbent upon Kings to pardon offenses that were perpetrated against them.”27 Indeed, as a king who wished to follow Christ, he could hardly see any other course before him. And thus forgiveness was one of the cornerstones of his internal policy. Castillo, who could not sup¬ press his astonishment over the King’s repeated demonstrations of forgive¬ ness, came to the conclusion that “he was pleased more with pardon than with vengeance, with clemency more than with cruelty, with pity more than with rigor. Never did he find enjoyment in killing, nor did he like to ruin anyone.”28 Castillo, then, attributed the King’s habitual forbearance, as well as his abstention from violence and bloodshed, to his natural inclinations. If true, this attribution could provide an explanation of Enrique’s conduct as king. However, as prince, we see him repeatedly display a willingness to engage in war, to plan, without qualms, violent conflicts, and also to attack and execute traitors without showing either hesitation or remorse.29 He also joined Juan II’s enemies and embarked on political moves and maneuvers which were likely to lead to bloody clashes with his father. Had his later attitudes been truly expressive of deeply ingrained personal tendencies, they would have appeared during his early manhood and would have left some traces in the records of the time. Since nothing of the sort had ever been reported, his behavior as king must have been the result not so much of his personal inclinations as of his political philosophy. He no doubt embraced this philosophy a short time before he came to power, and it soon transformed his thinking and feelings, as well as his conduct as ruler. He began to declare his new views immediately after ascending the throne, and they no doubt affected his attitudes toward his subjects, as well as his position in foreign affairs. But for reasons that may be readily surmised, he was still seen by most people as the same man he had been before he was crowned king—a warlike prince, daring and ambitious, yet a careful strategist, who was aided and advised by the shrewdest politi¬ cians of Spain. The new man that he became was finally exposed during the nobles’ rebellion. By that time his views on kingship had matured and it was then that he put them to the test. But this does not mean that he entirely abandoned his previous habits as diplomat and governor, and all that he had learned from Pacheco in these fields. Time and again he was obliged to revert to the old forms of politics in which he was trained, and rely on his experiences as diplomat and negotiator operating with concealed designs and half-truths. Occasionally, he was also tempted to use force and settle by war menacing problems which otherwise seemed to him insoluble. But he regarded these moves as temporary retreats from the methods of government he considered

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proper (i.e., noble), and intended to resume the employment of these meth¬ ods at the first available opportunity. He actually believed that his theory of kingship could work in real life, and he tried to the end to chart his course according to its principles. This was Enrique’s insurmountable difficulty, as well as his fatal mistake. He thought he could act like a Christian king in a Machiavellian society—that is, a society governed by principles diametrically opposed to his. Against the ideas of force, treachery, cruelty, cunning, vengeance, intimidation and death, which were believed to be the most effective means to achieve politi¬ cal ends, he pitted his own Christian ideas as measures of practical policy. Hence his love of peace, his forgiveness, his compassion, his clemency, his charity, his humanity and humility (“The humble,” they called him, says his chronicler Escavias30). Hence also his tragic fate and, politically, his failure. But besides the great difficulty stemming from his philosophy, or rather his political credo, his government was afflicted by a serious shortcoming that stemmed from his personal relationships. We refer in particular to his rela¬ tions with Pacheco, who for many years had a strong grip on his life. Indeed, so powerful was Pacheco’s influence on Enrique that it often curbed his freedom of movement, oppressed his thinking and vitiated his plans. Above all, it disrupted his efforts as statesman, and, among other things, was one of the factors that subverted his position on the converso issue.

II. The Delusive Peace i

We have already briefly remarked on the character of the new converso courtiers and the decline of their status as converso spokesmen. Indeed, we are strongly inclined to believe that the conversos in the period of Enrique IV suffered from a serious failure of leadership which, in the circumstances, was in itself sufficient to assure their ultimate defeat. But what further contributed to their downfall was their adoption of a new policy that guided their political self-defense. Undoubtedly, that policy was based on the lessons they drew from the struggle they waged for their rights in the last years ofjuan II’s reign. What impressed them especially were the final results of the two major stages of that struggle, the first of which was marked by their campaign against the Sentencia and the second by their drive to bring down Alvaro. The purpose of the campaign against the Sentencia, let us recall, was to convince the people—and even more so the authorities—of the justice of the Marranos’ position, and then to move the authorities to act in accordance with that conviction. This action was expected to take the form of clear-cut proclamations on the Marranos’ innocence, coupled with strong denuncia¬ tions—and severe punishment—of their detractors. About a year of such concerted agitation, in 1449-1450, against the views and claims of the conver¬ sos’ enemies seemed to have justified these expectations. The Pope in his bulls of September 24, the bishops in the sentences they issued on these bulls, and the King in his ensuing orders and declarations all showed readiness to take decisive action along the envisaged course. But then the unexpected happened. Both king and pope began a gradual retreat from their declared pro-Marrano stand, until their positions differed only little from those of the Marranos’ adversaries. Unavoidably, the New Christians wondered about the sense of their entire campaign, of the arguments they had advanced with such faith and fervor, and of the evidence they had assembled with such diligence and determination to prove the rightness of their cause. Evidently, there was no sense to it at all. Law, morality, and theological principles counted little when confronted with the interests and ambitions of the hard-boiled rulers of Church and state. Thus, many Marranos came to view the campaign they had conducted in ’49-50 as useless or ineffective; and faced with a losing battle of survival, they could not help concluding that in order to survive, they had to change their tactics. Thus, they abandoned their public agitation and adopted different

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methods of warfare. They turned to in camera negotiations, political manipu¬ lations, and the formation of alignments that were likely to be in the Marranos’ favor. This was how they had brought about Alvaro de Luna’s downfall and, in consequence, the restoration of their rights. Their changed conception of their best self-defense led the Marranos to change their position toward royal power. There can be no doubt that the failure of the hopes they put in the monarch, and the crisis of faith they experienced in their relations with both Juan II and his chief minister, was expressed in a breakdown of the solid front that united all the Marranos of Spain—a front that hinged on the traditional principle of “unqualified loyalty to the King.” What followed was increased political maneuvering not only by New Christian courtiers, but also by Marrano notables in the cities—a maneuvering aimed at the formation of alliances on which they could hope¬ fully rely. Inevitably, such alliances, once formed, loosened the Marranos’ ties with the king, especially when the king was unable or unwilling to offer them the needed protection. Nevertheless, it must be noted that the majority of the conversos in Castile still preferred to rally around the monarch and lend him their support, though not at all costs and in all circumstances. Actually, the New Christian notables were now following the paths of the Old Christian nobles, and hence, when the king appeared to be slipping, some of them showed little hesitation in joining the camp of his opponents. If the search for greater power by means of alliances now determined the Marranos’ political conduct, another principle guided their behavior in the sphere of public opinion. That principle is indicated in their deliberate refusal to react to any written or oral diatribe against their rights, their activities and their reputation. It signified the beginning of a long-term policy of total avoidance of Marrano involvement in public debates on the Marrano issue. Thus, while in the year or two following the rebellion (1449-1450) there appeared at least six New Christian apologies,31 in the two decades of Enrique IV not a single work of Marrano provenance appeared in defense of the converso cause. By the middle of 1451, when the failure of the campaign in their defense became apparent, many conversos must have come to believe that public agitation by Marranos on their behalf was more harmful than helpful. All their apologies had achieved, they thought, was to provoke greater hatred for the Marranos, rally more forces to their adversaries and, above all, bring the Marrano issue to the forefront of public attention and discussion. Indeed, this last result was, from their standpoint, the most detri¬ mental to their cause. These views, it need hardly be said, were part and parcel of their assimilationist thinking. As ardent assimilationists, they always wished to blend with the Old Christians as quickly as possible, and to attain this end, they sought to lower their profile as a separate group in the Christian society. To be sure,

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their campaign against the Toledan rebels made them stand out as a separate entity, but they conducted it on the assumption that it could not be helped if they wished to meet the emergency they faced. As soon as they realized, however, that these needs were not met, they not only hastened to terminate that campaign, but adopted a policy of strict non-involvement. In fact, they even sought to ignore or forget some of their bitter encounters with Old Christians and thereby try to cover up their cause—namely, the existence of a converso problem that disturbed the social peace. The reader will find sufficient evidence of this policy in the general chronicles of Juan II’s reign edited by Marranos in Enrique IV’s time. A detailed analysis of this evidence is offered in one of the foregoing chapters.32 What remains for us to note at this point is how the Marranos hoped to overcome by their silence their enemies’ vociferous attacks upon them. We must assume they noticed that the arguments of their apologists led their opponents to produce counter-arguments, which broadened the discussion and kept it alive; and from this they could infer that it would be to their benefit to avoid any public response. They evidently thought that if they held their fire, the provocative dialogue would turn into a monologue, which inevitably would become repetitious and boring; both listeners and accusers would get tired of it and the campaign would gradually peter out. It was wishful thinking. By withdrawing from public debate over their issue, the conversos did not silence the agitation against them but enabled it to grow louder and bolder. By abandoning the field of battle as they did, they left it wide open to their opponents, who knew how to use it to their full advantage. Libels, rebukes and reprobations multiplied; and while no con¬ verso arose to answer them, the anticonverso campaign was joined by new forceful agitators. The most eloquent and effective of these was undoubtedly the Franciscan friar Espina.

II

“To Fray Alonso de Espina,” says Lea rightly, “may be ascribed a large share in hastening the development of organized persecution in Spain.”33 Like Marcos Garda, Espina was filled with a passionate hatred for Jews and conversos, and like the Toledan rebel, he was fired with the conviction that only by concerted action of the authorities (what Lea termed “organized persecution”) could the Jewish question in Spain be solved. To be sure, the solution desired by Espina went far beyond the measures recommended by the Church; as a friar, however, he could not state it explicitly, but suggested it obliquely in some of his pronouncements. Nevertheless, it was clearly reflected in his agitation against both the Jews and the conversos. As far as we can judge, Alonso de Espina was of Spanish origin and

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represented in his writings the ideological heritage of Iberian antisemitism. As such he was standard-bearer in the campaign against thejews conducted by the cities since the middle of the 13th century, and chief spokesman of the anti-Jewish theories espoused by the Toledan rebels. But besides these two Spanish sources of influence, his antisemitism was fed by another current, which was ultra-Pyrenean and fundamentally non-Spanish. We refer to the views on, and attitudes toward thejews that were rampant in Central and Western Europe, and especially to the particular form they assumed in the Observant branch of the Franciscan Order. Compared to the Dominicans, who were generally known for their ex¬ treme hatred and censure of thejews, the Franciscans—once again, generally speaking—adopted a somewhat milder attitude toward the Jews and the Jewish question. But things changed radically in this respect following the rise of the Observantine movement in the second half of the 14th century. The originator of this change was Bernardino da Siena, himself an Observant who, about 1405, met Vicente Ferrer, the Spanish Dominican whose indefati¬ gable campaigns to convert Jews and Moslems made him the most famous missionary of his time.34 Moved by Ferrer, and following his example, Ber¬ nardino began to devote his efforts to the conversion of thejews and other infidels. But unlike Ferrer, he stressed the “dangers” thejews posed to the Christian world far more than the reasons which, according to Christianity, should have moved them to convert.3S As might be expected, such agitation, while bringing few, if any, converts to Christianity, gave rise to a new wave of anti-Jewish feeling, which was carried forward after Bernardino’s death (1444) by his chief disciple, Giovanni da Capistrano. The latter, who as¬ sumed, following Bernardino, the mantle of leadership of the Observants, went far beyond his guide and mentor in his incitement against the Jews. Capistrano appeared to be convinced that the atrocities attributed to thejews were no myths, and he knew how to communicate that conviction to the large crowds that listened to his sermons. In 1454, on a visit to Breslau, he outdid himself when he consigned to the flames forty-one Jews charged with desecration of the Host. He died two years later (in 1456), after setting an example, both in word and deed, to his followers in the Catholic world.36 Among his followers and disciples was another Italian, also an Observant, Bernardino da Feltre (1439—1494), who, in preaching hatred of the Jews, emphasized the charge of ritual murder. It was due to his violent agitation that the Jews were banished from Ravenna, Perugia, Brescia, and several other Italian towns. And more than anyone else, he was responsible for the infamous blood libel of Trent, in Tyrol, which ended with the execution of fourteen Jews (1475).37 Moving along the same lines and spewing out the same arguments, Espina began his campaign against thejews several years before Capistrano’s death

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and about a decade before da Feltre started his. The relationship between him and his brothers-in-spirit, the three aforementioned Italian friars, has never been inquired into, to my knowledge, and we do not know whether the latter influenced Espina’s views and activities. It is not far-fetched, however, to assume that such influence, direct or indirect, was wielded. In any case, the four friars were linked to each other by both organizational and ideological ties. The four of them were Franciscans, Observants and leaders of the same mendicant faction, and the four of them dedicated their lives to spreading venomous hatred of Jews and Judaism by means of the most vicious accusa¬ tions. Capistrano did it in Germany, the two Bernardinos in Italy, and Alonso de Espina in Castile.

Ill

If his fellow Observants considered the Jews a menace to Christendom in such countries as Italy, where the Jewish communities were relatively small, no wonder Espina considered Spanish Jewry—including the conversos, whom he counted as Jews—as the greatest threat ever faced by any Christian domain. He considered his task, therefore, far more vital than that of his fellow campaigners in Europe, and by the same token also more difficult. The difficulty, as he saw it, stemmed not only from the magnitude of the Jewish and converso forces involved, but also from their special social position and far-reaching public influence. Most of Spain’s Jews were Christianized, he knew, and although to him they werejews in disguise, this is not how they were viewed by Spain’s kings and most of the Spanish grandees. In addition, they were at the height of their power. When Espina was about to launch his campaign, the anti-Marrano party in Spain had just suffered a stunning defeat through the loss of all the gains it had made in Toledo and the restoration of the conversos’ former status in the city. It was not easy to start a counter-attack after such a total surrender. Yet this is what Espina did. Defeats and retreats in the “battle of the faith” only spurred him to bolder action. Espina realized that, compared to the conversos, the Jews were only a second-rate component of the problem he was confronted with. In the broad Jewish front which, to him, comprised two sectors—a smaller of “overt” Jews and a larger of “occult” ones—the conversos appeared to be the decisive factor and the force that would be harder to beat. Of the various reasons supporting this assessment, the following three were probably the foremost. To begin with, there was the question of power. While the Jews relied on the goodwill of the rulers, which was undependable and could be withdrawn, the conversos formed part of the government and were strongly entrenched in the royal administration, as well as in the administration of the Church.

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Second, while canon law, civil law and Christian custom discriminated against the Jews in almost every sphere, the conversos enjoyed the support of the laws, the teachings of Christianity and the policy of the Church. Finally, while an attack on Spanishjewry could be spurred by analogies from other Christian countries, no such analogies could be applied to the conver¬ sos, since, except for Spain, no Christian country had such a large-scale converso community. For all these reasons Espina considered the position of the “overt” Jews far more vulnerable and, consequently, easier to hurt. He decided therefore to attack the Jews first, and then, once the people were aroused by his campaign, to strike at the conversos by labeling them Jews and, of course, by “proving” their Jewishness. None of this, to be sure, was a simple task; but it was infinitely easier than pinning on the conversos, right from the outset, all the crimes he could credibly ascribe to the Jews. This was Espina’s strategy. Espina, then, launched his attack upon the Jews along the lines of his Observantine teachers, describing thejews as mythical vampires thirsting for Christian blood. Later we shall recount his fantastic accusations, which so many credulous Christians in the Middle Ages did not judge to be fantastic at all. Here we shall touch only on his charges relating to thejews’ social and economic activities. Based as they were on “realistic” grounds, these charges, though extreme, could be readily believed. In fact, they helped attune Es¬ pina’s audiences to his far wilder claims.

IV

There is no adequate study of the condition of thejews under the rule of Enrique IV. Nevertheless, it is safe to say that the first half of Enrique’s reign was for Spain’s Jews a quiet interval in the turbulent last century of their life in Spain. When the reign opened in 1454, there remained very few of the many disabilities imposed upon thejews by Pope Eugene IV (in his bull of August 8, 1442) and largely accepted by the Infantes of Aragon. For, as we have indicated, when Alvaro resumed power, he paid no regard to the papal restrictions; and Enrique IV, who was tolerant of all minorities, and espe¬ cially appreciative of the services of thejews, saw no reason to upset that order. As a result, we find thejews throughout the period occupying numer¬ ous positions of tax farming and tax collection in both the royal and nobiliar administrations. Likewise, they farmed the revenues of the churches and the incomes of monasteries, colleges, and townships. They also administered the estates of the great lords, temporal and spiritual, as treasurers, contadores and majordomos.38 There is no doubt that most Jews who engaged in these tasks belonged to prosperous, high-income groups, whose members also followed other pur-

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suits which were equally profitable. Such pursuits included large-scale moneylending, international trade, and internal commerce in various pre¬ cious commodities (such as spices), as well as medicine, pharmaceutics and law. Taken together, these groups did not form the majority of the Jewish community in Spain. But they did form a substantial minority, constituting the community’s upper layers, from which flowed a considerable stream of money to the Jewish lower classes. The latter consisted primarily of artisans, shopkeepers, farmers, teachers, clerks, second-rate practitioners of the professions mentioned, and functionaries in the communal and religious fields. These, to be sure, were far from rich, but more often than not far from poor, too. In any case, opportunity was open to them, especially to those of the middle class; and pauperism in the Jewish community was rare. Espina considered the Jews’ situation a scandalous affront to Christian law and teaching. If Christianity permitted the existence ofjews in the countries under its dominion, it did so on the condition that they be perpetually enslaved as punishment for their deicide. But that enslavement, he empha¬ sized, denied them forever not only all positions of authority (and hence all right to public office) among Christians; it also denied them all the essentials of life as free men, such as freedom of converse, settlement and movement, as well as choice of occupation. Moreover, it denied them the possibility of living in dignity even in their own communities; for the eternal captivity to which they are destined must consist of wretchedness, distress, humiliation and, above all, anxiety and fear. These conditions, according to Espina, were already assured to the Jews by Moses when he cursed them in his forecast of their great crime: “You will serve your enemy whom God will send against you in hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and in want of all things; and he shall put a yoke of iron upon your neck until he have destroyed you” (Deut. 28.48). Espina, however, did not forget to add that the terrible agony to which the Jews were destined was meant not only to serve as their punishment, but also as a means of their salvation; for it is only through exceptional suffering and distress that the Jews may be induced to abandon their defiance.39 However, if permitted to live in freedom, their condition will serve merely as incentive for them to continue in their rejection of Christianity; and, in consequence, the blight of Judaism will never depart from the land.40 To prove this point with all possible clarity, Espina enumerates many of the laws enacted against the Jews by Church and State, including the laws of Catalina of 1412, which subjected them to the harshest restrictions. There can be no question, then, what kind of life Christian law, divine and human, assigned to the Jews. But what do we see in reality? The Jews disregard all these laws, circumvent them, or treat them as nonexistent. Not only do they fail to wear the “sign”; they use Christian maids, employ Christian workers,

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lend money at interest to Christians of all classes, practice medicine among Christians, manage the estates of the great nobles and, by means of all these pursuits and positions, assume mastery over Christians. Thus, rather than being the Christians’ slaves, they live in Spain like the Christians’ lords. It need scarcely be said that these conditions (i.e., of freedom and mastery) encourage them to proceed along the path of sin. “They do not work the soil, nor do they defend it; but they devour the labor of the Christians by means of their evil and cunning arts, and thus they become the heirs of their possessions” and the owners of great wealth. As it is written about them in Jeremiah 5.27: “As a cage full of birds, so are their houses full of deceit—or, more clearly, of the yield of their chicaneries and criminal exploitation.”41 In such statements, which present the Jews as “eating the fat and good of the land,” without making any commensurate effort or any positive contribu¬ tion, Espina echoes the social accusations leveled by Garcia at the conversos. But unlike Garcia, he centers his attacks on the “overt” rather than the “covert” Jews (for the reasons we have indicated above), and, again unlike Garcia, he stresses the Jews’ alleged religious crimes, which until then had gained little notoriety among the Spanish Christians. Only a few cases ofjews charged with perpetration of anti-Christian atrocities (like desecration of the Host) were recorded in Spain in the course of centuries, but they left their echoes in Spanish life and literature; and on the basis of these echoes, which Espina magnified by citing opinions of non-Spanish authorities, he felt safe in stating that “a book will not suffice to contain their crimes in this re¬ spect.”42 By means of such sweeping accusations Espina presented the Jews as hardened criminals who harm Christians and humiliate Christianity, with¬ out any regard to the laws of the country and without taking any punishment for their crimes. He realized of course that he had to explain how the Jews could manage to do all this; and here again he offered an answer that differed from that of Garda. Espina moves straight in to lay the blame for this condition upon the “prelates and princes and all the other lords” who were charged with the execution of the laws and the prevention of their violation by the Jews. It is the “detested avarice of the Christian princes” and “the temporal gains which they get from the Jews” that bring them to let the Jewish crimes go unpun¬ ished. It is their excessive converse with the Jews, and the numerous gifts they receive from them, that lead them to permit the “ravenous wolves” who have entered the “flock” of God to continue their ravages without opposi¬ tion 43 Only if we combine this description of the Jew as an unscrupulous eco¬ nomic exploiter with his portrayal as a religious criminal shall we grasp the full impact of Espina’s campaign upon the Spanish public. Before long a movement was astir in many towns, calling for the elimination of the Jews

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from their territories. It did not urge the killing of the Jews, perhaps because it was assumed that threats of death might revive the movement of conver¬ sion (which was an undesirable prospect), but it called for robbing the Jews of their possessions and taking over their synagogues and graveyards.44 Steps like these, it was believed, would be sufficient to force the Jews to abandon their neighborhoods and, if taken nationwide, to induce them to leave Spain—a consequence which was in full accord with Espina’s objectives. Judging by the information at our disposal, the plan gained not only the support of the lower classes but also the approval of some municipal councils and, within the hierarchy of the Church, of some friars and prelates. More¬ over, some places hastened to issue special statutes against the Jews as a temporary measure, while in others preparations were approaching the point of carrying out the aforementioned program. The movement seemed so widespread and the attack so imminent that the royal administration found it necessary to issue, on May 28, 1455, a special warning to all the authorities in the country, forbidding them to countenance any attempt to rob the Jews of their private possessions or deprive them of their communal properties. The order placed all Jews under the King’s protection and threatened viola¬ tors with the “loss of royal favor, the privation of all offices and the confisca¬ tion of all goods.” It also blocked any excuse for avoiding compliance because of ignorance of the law or inability to fulfill it45 The King’s stern order was a clear threat to all would-be aggressors. Enrique was then at the height of his prestige, “both feared and respected,” and the order was issued by Fernan Diaz de Toledo, who now served as Enrique’s Relator. Everyone could see that the administration meant business and that it would take drastic steps to prevent riots and disorders on a large scale. It stands to reason that Fernan Diaz de Toledo was involved in the planning of these steps which, we may assume, he considered imperative both as administrator and converso leader. Few could realize as clearly as he did whither the new winds were blowing. A repetition of the mass riots of 1391 would not only involve the whole country in trouble—indeed, in a turmoil of unforeseeable consequences. It would also place the Marrano community in unprecedented danger. In all likelihood, he viewed the planned attack upon the Jews as a prelude to an attack upon the conversos.

V

The royal administration may have exaggerated the strength of the antiJewish movement in 1455, or it may not have wished to take any chances with the riot preparations that came to its knowledge. In any case, it arrested the expansion of the movement, and little more was heard of it to the end of the reign. But this does not mean that the government succeeded in checking

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the growth of the anti-Jewish sentiment, or that Espina ceased his ferocious agitation. The numerous anti-Jewish accusations assembled in his copious work were doubtless first uttered by him in his sermons; and informed as we are of the impact of his preaching, we must assume that it contributed substantially to the rise of the anti-Jewish fever in Castile. Ultimately, his agitation produced in Castile the same results that da Feltre’s had attained in Trent and Giovanni Capistrano’s in Breslau. In 1468, the Jews of Sepulveda were subjected to the torment of a blood accusation, and in 1471, eight of them were sentenced to death. Following the execution, the Christians of Sepul¬ veda attacked their Jewish neighbors, killing some of them and causing the rest to flee the town.46 This was the first time in Jewish history in Castile—indeed, in the whole of Christian Spain—that a court had issued a verdict of guilty against anyjew charged with ritual murder; and nothing illustrates more luridly the vehe¬ mence that the anti-Jewish feelings had reached in Spain. If pogroms and massacres may occasionally be attributed to a temporary upsurge of violent passions, blood libels stemmed only from deep-seated hatred, stoked by the belief that thejews were capable of the vilest religious crimes. Nor would the ecclesiastical court in Segovia, which handed down the verdict against the position of the Church, have gone to that length unless compelled to do so by overwhelming public pressure. The court responsible for that atrocious verdict was presided over by Juan Arias Davila, bishop of Segovia and himself a New Christian, the son of Diego Arias Davila, Enrique IV’s Contador Mayor. Davila’s intent in rendering that judgment was no doubt to remove from himself the suspicion that, as a converso, he sided with thejews; he wanted to demonstrate that, in religious matters, the New Christians did not differ from the Old. Indubitably, when Davila was entrusted with the case, many enemies of the conversos wanted to believe that the converso bishop was hopelessly trapped. Would he issue a verdict against the accused and thereby confirm the veracity of the blood libel, or would he let them go free and thereby demonstrate that all conver¬ sos, including their bishops, were actually nothing but secret Jews? Davila chose to condemn the Jews, of whose innocence he could have no doubt, thereby showing how great was his perversion, as well as the worries that beset his mind. He must have feared that, in the highly charged atmosphere in which the blood libel trial was held, a verdict in favor of the accused Jews could precipitate an attack on the conversos of Segovia, and perhaps of the whole of Castile. Meanwhile, Espina kept propagating his claim, accompanied by his cus¬ tomary “proofs,” that the New Christians were clandestinejews, and the cry was frequently heard across Castile that the conversos were actually “here¬ tics.” In consequence, suspicion, distrust and ill will between the Old and

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New Christians deepened, and the fabric of social relations between the groups was in many towns torn beyond repair. There inevitably followed quarrels and clashes between individual Old Christians and New, which often developed into lasting strife or expanded to engulf whole communities. By the turn of the fifties, a large part of Castile was seething with social unrest. Now, having effectively aggravated an inherently tough and exasperating problem, Espina came forward with a solution. As we indicated, he advocated two solutions, one for the conversos and another for the Jews. His preferred way of dealing with the conversos would be to bring about their annihilation or expulsion—the same measures he favored for thejews. But since he knew that the Church would reject both, he compromised by urging the applica¬ tion of a remedy tested by the Church time and again and always proved most effective. He recommended the establishment in Castile of an inquisi¬ tion to root out the “Judaic heresy”—an inquisition of the kind that func¬ tioned in Languedoc and virtually destroyed the Albigenses. It was to be an institution subject to Rome, and thus immune to the influence of the converso bishops and the corruption of other Spanish prelates. All that was needed to establish such an institution was the consent of the King. Espina tried to get that consent. He was Enrique’s confessor, had easy access to him, and no doubt tried to induce the King to accept his plan for a Castilian inquisition. Evidently, he failed. Either he could not overcome the King’s skepticism or negative attitude toward his arguments, or he was blocked by the counter-arguments of the conversos and their friends at Court. He therefore attempted to reinforce his appeal by enlisting the sup¬ port of the leaders of his Order—i.e., the Franciscans in the Spanish prov¬ ince—and the latter agreed to follow him. They thought, however, that they stood a better chance with Enrique if they were joined in their appeal by the Hieronymites, who had become influential in Castile. Accordingly, they wrote to Alonso de Oropesa, the newly elected General of the Hieronymite Order, asking his help in petitioning the King to establish an inquisition.47 Then something happened which the sources do not explain. After having written to Oropesa, but apparently before sending their letter, the Franciscans decided to approach the King by themselves.48 The reason for this change of plan is not known. Perhaps some of the Franciscans, Espina among them, doubted the possibility of uniting with the Hieronymites on a common plan of action. They no doubt were aware of Oropesa’s deep interest in the Old-New Christian conflict, but they may also have heard that his view of the conversos was not precisely identical with theirs; thus, on second thought, they came to the conclusion that their chance to obtain king Enrique’s support might be diminished rather than increased by a joint delegation.

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1 here may of course have been other considerations that moved the Franciscans to change their plan. They may have been reluctant to share the credit for the establishment of an inquisition with another monastic order; or they may have wished to reserve the Hieronymites for a joint approach to Enrique, in case their own attempt proved abortive. Whatever their considerations, the decision seemed justified. For the King received the Franciscan delegation, appeared to be inclined to accept its arguments, and promised to act favorably on its request. Espina now expected to see some evidence that the King’s promise was being fulfilled. But months passed and nothing happened. The Franciscans then decided to send their letter to the Hieronymites, with the aim of approaching the King together with the Hieronymites’ leaders. But this move, too, turned out to be futile. For meanwhile the Hieronymites, no doubt offended by the shoddy way the Franciscans had treated them, decided to approach the King by them¬ selves and acquaint him with their own views on the inquisition. In conse¬ quence a Hieronymite delegation, headed by Oropesa, saw Enrique in Madrid in April 1461.49 Oropesa pointed out to the King that the people, who view most conversos as Judaizers, were anxious to take the law into their own hands because they did not see the government act against the allegedly spreading heresy. If the royal administration, however, would agree to conduct a proper investigation into the matter and establish both guilt and innocence, the people would quiet down and the disturbances would stop. Hence, Oropesa concluded, there is need for an inquisition conducted in each diocese by Castile’s Church leaders; and it should be aimed not only at the New Christians, but against all segments of the Christian population. Enrique IV was taken by the argument as well as by the proposal. He was also most favorably impressed by Oropesa. He expressed his agreement with the Hieronymite’s ideas and promised him his full support, on the understanding that Oropesa himself would undertake the execution of his plan. He asked the General to write to all the bishops of the realm, asking them, in the King’s name, to establish, each in his own see, an inquisition to investigate all deviations from the faith in all sections of the Christian population. There was, however, no response.50 Shortly thereafter, in Alcala de Henares, Oropesa met Carrillo, the archbishop of Toledo, and urged him to take action in the direction he recommended. Since 1449 Toledo had been known as the center of tension between the Old and New Christians, and a successful inquisition there could serve as a model for all other cities. Carrillo refused to assume responsibility, but urged Oropesa to perform the task. He assured Oropesa that the bishop of Coria, Don Inigo Manrique, would assist him in this matter, and Oropesa agreed to assume the main burden. But the

73 he must have written his story at a later date—say, at the beginning of the sixties. But we hear of no migration of conversos in the fifties either to Palestine or to the Barbary Coast, and very little of it (i.e., a few cases) in the early sixties; in fact, we have sufficient evidence to the effect that no such migration took place later on, or at least any that was considerable enough to leave any impression.

And so the

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“preparations” and “expectations” of the “many” were, at most, limited to isolated individuals (such may have existed), who prompted Espina’s gener¬ alizations about the Judaizers or the practitioners of the “abominable” rite.

X

Espina’s tendency to generalize and exaggerate when he referred to the Judaic heresies can be also shown from his other assertions concerning the same subject. When he presents the contents of the Toledan Inquiry, he informs us that according to its findings,11 some of the conversos are not sound in the faith” (aliqui eorum non sunt sani in fide)91-, but when he tells us of what he himself “heard,” the number of the heretics changes rapidly to “many” (multi)98 and later to “very many” (plurimi)?9 We have seen that he spoke of “many” who “prepared” to leave Spain and return to Judaism, and on that occasion he mentioned a single case—that of a converso physician who sold all his possessions, departed for Jerusalem and became ajew. But a few pages later he finds it possible to tell us that “of all the heresies that [of circumci¬ sion] spreads among the Marranos most, since very many are being circum¬ cised, and after having sold everything they have, they leave the realm and become Jews, as has been said”100 So the “preparations” and “expectations” for depar¬ ture became (after a few pages) a migration, and the single case of departure that has been reported became “very many” cases, “as has been said,” al¬ though what “has been said” was quite different. But Espina is not satisfied even with that. He further extends his unfounded generalization, so that the “very many” becomes a “raging plague” (pestis rabida) that threatens to “destroy the faith of Christ.” Hence it must be “vigorously resisted.”101 And in addition to his tendency to exaggerate, we must note the sources of his information. Apart from the Toledan Inquiry, Espina depends on rumor or informants he considers “trustworthy.” We have seen that Espina’s accounts of the Jews’ killing of Christian children, or their torture of Hosts, or their effective use of magic, were likewise based, according to Espina, on “trustworthy” witnesses; and this allows us to judge the trustworthiness of his witnesses regarding the “Judaizers” and the scope of their movement. But Espina’s exaggerations concerning the number of the “heretics” is not limited to assertions such as those we have cited. Skillfully, without saying so, he virtually identifies the conversos who allegedly followjewish law with the whole Marrano group. Thus, when he lists the Judaic sins of the conver¬ sos, he does not say, as the Sentencia did, that “some of them” committed those transgressions, but that, as the pesqmsa “showed,” “they circumcise their children,” “they observe the Sabbath,” “they send oil to the synagogues,” and so on. Moreover, in describing the heretics among the Marranos, he uses the

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invectives of Paul in Titus 1.10-12 against the Jewish converts to Christianity in Crete as if they referred to all converts from Judaism to Christianity in all places and at all times. Marcos Garda, too, used those invectives to depict all converts from Judaism, and thus we have here another example ofEspina’s following in the Toledans’ footsteps. But Espina does not only repeat all of Paul’s reprimands to the Cretan converts102; he also adds to them interpreta¬ tions from the Ordinary Gloss, where he found more negative epithets to apply to the conversos. In fact, according to him, the conversos “who practice circumcision” and adhere to all other Jewish customs and beliefs indicated by the pesquisaXOi are even more iniquitous than what may be gathered from Paul’s harsh words. For as Espina put it, they are “enemies of God,” “idola¬ ters” and “worse heretics than the Arians and all others who erred against the law of Christ.”104 Is there any wonder that the worst heretics in the world should be chastised in the most severe manner, even more severely than were the Arians and the other known heretical movements? Espina knew of course what treatment was accorded to the “other” heresies in Christendom. He knew that fire and the sword and every form of torture were employed to root them out. And this is indeed the treatment he thought proper and necessary to apply to the conversos. For the conversos are a pest; and pests must be exterminated by all means available. “A republic can be corrupted even by one bad man, such as a thief, a homicide, an adulterer, etc.,” he summarizes his view in the words of St. Bernard. But “if a sheep is sick, let not the herd perish.” They “should be circumcised by justice and by death.”105 It is obvious that Espina’s preferred solution for the conversos was identi¬ cal with the one he favored for the Jews—extermination. If he could devise a method by which all of them would be proven, formally and swiftly, to be what they were—namely, traitors to Christianity, secret Jews—and then do what the King of England did (according to the legend he related), he would have urged its immediate adoption. Espina was no doubt toying with such ideas and dreaming up from time to time such measures; but he had to abandon them as impractical. He lived in an age when heresies in Christen¬ dom were fought by means of an organized inquisition; and he had to be satisfied with that procedure. Thus, in this matter, too, he followed the Toledans and argued for the establishment of an inquisition against the Marranos in Castile. This does not mean, of course, that he underestimated the impact an inquisition would have on the conversos. He realized that a “true” inquisition could destroy the conversos not only socially and economically but also physically. In the tenth “consideration,” Espina specifies the four punish¬ ments meted out to heretics, which he expected to be imposed on the conversos: excommunication, dismissal (from offices), confiscation (of prop-

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erty) and prosecution (by the ecclesiastical authorities). “Any such person [who was found to have erred] ought to be surrendered to the secular authorities for due punishment, that is, by burning, unless immediately after the detection of the error, he expressed his wish to revert to the faith, to abjure his error and undergo penance; then the ‘returners’ should not be executed; they ought to be shut up in a perpetual prison.”106 He also enumerates the penalties assured to a believer who supports or favors heretics. Abettors of heretics should be excommunicated, at least for one year.107 During this entire time, all their ties to their society are severed. If the “abettor” is a judge, his decision is not enforced; if he is an advocate, his defense is not admitted; if he is a notary, his records are not honored; if he is a cleric, he should be removed forthwith from every ecclesiastic office and benefice.108 There is no need to indicate other rules related to the Inquisition (such as the seizure and torture of heretics) that Espina found necessary to present to his reader.109 Espina took them all from Eymeric’s Directorium, but it is clear that, at the time of his writing, these were generally unknown in Castile. As we see it, Espina presented these procedures in order to acquaint the Old Christians in Castile with the workings of an Inquisition. He must have believed that such a description of the Inquisition would excite the antiMarranos in Castile to double their efforts toward its establishment, although he no doubt realized that it might also strengthen converso opposition to its introduction in that country. He must, however, have cared very little about what the conversos might think or do. His book was written to arouse the Old Christians to take action against the Jews and the conversos, and he probably believed that what he wrote on the Inquisition could be helpful in achieving this aim.

XI

We have already stated that Espina’s data are, on the whole, grossly untrustworthy, that they bear the marks of fiction rather than fact, and further that they indicate no differentiation between the possible and the absurd, between truth and falsehood. This impression of stark unreliability is also generated by the hearsay evidence he included in his book and can be valued only by the standards of his prejudices. Espina was prepared to accept and publicize anything negative he heard about the conversos, anything that damaged their reputation and undermined their social or religious position. Never does he seem to have doubted such “information,” however question¬ able or incredible it appears to us. Thus he accepted as “verified” findings all the conclusions of the Toledan Inquiry, although some of them were obvi¬ ously based on nothing but foolish notions and groundless assertions; and

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similarly, he accepted all the folktales about the Marranos, although they bore the stamp of popular fabrications. No critical approach, no analysis, not even the slightest attempt at examination can we notice in his accounts about the conversos any more than we find in his tales about the Jews, and nothing good, commendable, or positive is ever related by him about either of these groups. When he occasionally refers to individual conversos, he always defines them as “members of their race”—i.e., the race of the Jews; and we already know from his discussions of the Jews his view of the Jewish race. It is no less than amazing that such an uncritical author—to use the mildest term that could fit him—was taken so seriously by so many scholars. And this amazement is compounded by another puzzle. When we consider Espina s racial bias against the Jews and his wild hostility to everything Jewish, we cannot help asking: How could any historian ascribe validity to his charges against the conversos? Or perhaps we should phrase the question differently: How can one treat any of his assertions about the Marranos as true when we know that his statements about the Jews are so false? Since Espina could tell us with unwavering “assurance” that the Jews were “discovered to be killers of children, desecrators of Hosts, poisoners of wells, and responsible for many attempted mass murders (as indicated in the case of the raging pigs), all of which have no grain of truth, can we assume that he stopped the working of his imagination when it came to his “discoveries” about the conversos? In brief, since one knows that Espina told us so many preposterous, vicious, false and groundless stories about the Jews, why should we not assume that he told us equally ludicrous, vicious, false, and groundless stories about the conver¬ sos, whom he judged to be Jews—and only Jews? Xo consider him menda¬ cious in one field and truthful in another (which, we should remember, was to him the same field) is to treat his testimony in a manner unacceptable to any responsible inquirer. Espina is simply not a credible witness. Filled as it is with distortions and inventions, his testimony about both the Jews and the conversos can rarely serve as basis for correct reconstruction. To be sure, here and there we may glean from his writings some true information about Jewish persecutions for which we have no other source. But this relates generally to the background of his stories, not to their main content and thrust. As far as these elements are concerned, what Espina tells us, one may say with assurance, belongs to the realm of popular fantasy, which means that historically it is usually worth¬ less.110 His testimony, however, has a side value which is indirectly related to its contents. It brings us face to face with the attitudes, feelings and claims of the Marranos’ opponents. It helps us grasp the spirit of the times, and together with it the nature of the campaign that led to the founding of the Inquisition.

II. The Alboraique The anti-Marrano satirical literature that first appeared in the days ofjuan II of Castile continued to appear in the days of his successor, King Enrique IV, and included works, in both prose and verse, that furthered the anticonverso campaign. One of the surviving prose works of this kind, El Libro del Alboraique, pretends to offer a true description of the conversos in Castile, their habits and characteristics.1 The picture it presents is generally revolt¬ ing, undoubtedly reflecting the violent aversion which many Old Christians felt for the Marranos. Isidore Loeb, and in his wake Fidel Fita and N. Lopez Martinez, believed that the Alboraique was written in the 1480s.2 Several indications in the work, however, convince us that it was composed about 1467. The first of them is the reference, in the opening of the satire, to the “conversos who became Christians more than seventy years ago as a result of the war then made throughout Spain,” or rather “of the destruction of all Jewish communities.”3 It cannot be assumed that the author did not know that the “war on the Jewish communities” in Spain occurred in 13914; and thus we must conclude that the Alboraique was written “more than seventy years” after 1391—and hence, a few years after 1461. The work, furthermore, contains other indications of the date on which it was written. “It is more than fourteen hundred years,” it says, since “the Herodians lost the kingdom, without ever regaining the staff of justice.”5 The last Herodian king who ruled over Israel (includingjudea andjerusalem) was Agrippa I, who died in 44

c.e.

If the author had him in mind, then his

statement: “It is more than fourteen hundred years since the Herodians lost the kingdom” may fall in line with the given date. The third indication speaks of the Jews, the “infidel fathers” of the Mar¬ ranos, who “came [to Spain] fourteen hundred years ago.”6 The reference is no doubt to the Jews who came to Spain following the destruction of the Second Temple (according to the tradition that prevailed among Spain’s Jews). Thus, “fourteen hundred years ago,” a round figure, brings us to the year 1470, which would seem to indicate the approximate time when the satire was written. But the Alboraique contains a further clue to the date of its composition. It is found in its discussion of the conversos “who went to the Turk to shed the blood of Christians” and whom they burned in Valencia of Aragon this year” (esteano).1 We know of several conversos who planned to migrate to Palestine in order to return to Judaism there and were brought before the inquisition of Valencia in 1464. We do not know when and how the proceedings ended.8

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However, if the group involved was identical with the one which, according to the Alboraique, volunteered to aid the Turks, we may conclude (if we rely on the satire) that some of its members were sentenced to be burned9; what is more, we may determine the year in which the inquisition issued its verdict. To be sure, according to the Madrid manuscript of the satire, the burning occurred “this year”—namely, the year in which the work was written; and this tells us nothing about the time of that occurrence. But the scribe of the Paris manuscript replaced the enigmatic indication “this year” with a definite date: 1467.10 He deleted the words "este anowhich no doubt were part of the original version, because he copied the manuscript not in 1467 or 1468 but later, and “this year,” he suspected, might be mistaken for the date of his own writing. The Alboraique, then, was written in 1467, proba¬ bly after the Toledan riots of that year, whose impact was felt across the whole of Castile. The author explains that the conversos were called Alboraiques after the animal which, according to the Koran, carried Mohammed to heaven.11 Smaller than a horse and larger than a mule, it was of a kind not found in nature, nor mentioned in the written Law, nor indicated in Aristotle’s work about the animals (De natura ammalium). It was a species in itself; and so is the converso who has something of the Moor and something of the Jew in him, but is neither a Jew nor a Moor—and certainly not a Christian.12 As for the religious attitude of the xMboraiques, they resemble the Moors in their attitude toward the Christians, although they “do not believe in the sect of the Moors” either. “In their intention they are Jews,” although they “do not keep the Talmud, nor all the ceremonies of the Jews”; nor do they treat any better Christian Law, in which they do not believe. Hence, they are neither Moors nor Jews, and Christians in name only.13 Borrowing a simile from the description of the Jews used by the Council of Agde (506),14 the author of the Alboraique compares the conversos to “big whippets” who “return to their vomit in order to eat what they had spewed.”15 Like madmen who revert to their follies, so did “these dogs” (i.e., the conversos) resume the “observation of the Sabbath and circumcision and other ceremonies” they had solemnized before their conversion.

The Jews

were insane to have guarded those rites” [after the coming ofjesus] to begin with; “now they return to them again after they had been baptized.”16 In another place he says of the conversos: “You can recognize them by their public festivities (fiestas), by their observance of the Sabbath ... by their reciting (meldar) like Jews,” and by their keeping the fasts and the passovers. According to the Jewish sources, the conversos had stopped observing the Sabbath in the first third of the ijth century,18 and as for circumcision, we have already pointed out that it was not practiced among them.19 Isolated cases to the contrary had of course been reported and, true or not, were

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widely discussed. The author of the satire, however, did not hesitate to attribute the irregular behavior of some Marranos to all of them. He made a rule of the exception. Referring to the dietary habits of the conversos, the author says that they eat all kinds of food. Thus, “they eat rabbits (conejos), partridges killed by Christians and Moors, and fish; they eat little bacon (tocino) and other animals and fowls, like the Jews; and they eat them at all times, in the Forty [days] of the Christians, in the fast days of the Jews, and in the fast days of the Moors.”20 The eating habits of the Marranos described by this author certainly indicate no respect for Jewish dietary laws. That they eat only “little” bacon may be attributed to custom, not to Jewish religious prohibition. They eat rabbits, which is forbidden by Jewish law, and partridges killed by Christians and Moors, which is also prohibited by Jewish law. They eat on Jewish fast days; so they desecrate the Jewish fast days, too. One may ask: How could people who eat on Jewish fast days—and on top of this, foods prohibited by Jewish law—be assumed to keep the Jewish fasts, as the author of the satire had stated? Obviously, if we follow his various assertions, we must conclude that most Marranos did not keep the Jewish fast days as they did not observe the Sabbath and practice circumcision. But if they did not keep the Sabbath and the Jewish fast days, it does not seem likely that most of them kept the other Jewish holidays (such as Passover). But apart from imputing to the conversos the observance of certain Jewish rites and holidays, the author claims that they fail to follow Christian law and take part in Christian rites and ceremonies. Thus, he says, they eat meat on the forty days of Lent, they never confess or take communion, they do not keep Sundays, do not attend mass; nor do they praise the Virgin Mary or Jesus Christ, or read the Gospels.21 That all this is highly exaggerated seems evident from the plain facts that so many of the conversos were members of religious orders, occupied formal positions in the Church, and were associated with the activity of the chapters. We may suppose, however, that many Christian customs were not followed by many conversos with the regularity and steadfastness characteristic of Old Christians. We may further assume that some of the conversos were gener¬ ally lax in their religious devotion, as undoubtedly were some Old Chris¬ tians, too. It is also possible that the author describes here forms of behavior of a segment ofjudaizers whom he identifies with all conversos. But even without bearing these possibilities in mind, we cannot give much credence to what the author of the satire says about the conversos’ attitude toward Christianity when we know that what he says about their devotion tojudaism was highly inflated. Evidently, he is ready to ascribe to the conversos any-

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thing negative in the field of religion, whether it relates to Judaism and Christianity or to heresy in both religions. The fierce animosity of the author for the conversos, and his virtual inability to judge them objectively, is displayed even more clearly when he speaks of their moral qualities and their social and economic activities. In his eyes, the conversos are terrible deceivers, for their appearance never suits their inward attitudes. Ostensibly they seem humane, merciful and friendly (falagiienos), but actually they are inhuman and cruel, wolves in sheep’s clothing, but worse than wolves. They are human dogs, and mad dogs at that; this is why they bit the Lord with the madness of diabolic envy. Indeed, as Jews, they are what the Apocalypse says of them: a “synagogue of devils.”22 And just as the conversos resemble large whippets, they also resemble a certain type of small horses fit neither for war nor for hard labor. “This is why the conversos are not used by us, the Christians, for acts of war or for hard work of laborers.”23 They are fit only to walk about the streets and the squares, where they deceive the people in many ways. This is why the prophet Isaiah said: Their works are of no use (59.6, according to the Vulgate). “They cannot be of use as speakers, because they are heretics; nor can they be of advantage as defenders, because they are cheats (and hence unreliable), nor can they be of any use as laborers because they are lazy.”-4 The author, however, is not satisfied with all these denunciations. The basic dishonesty of the conversos, he says, is manifested also in the way they talk and present their case. For “they sharpen their tongue like a snake (Psalms 140.4). Therefore, David said:25 ‘I shall send into them teeth of beasts, with the fury of serpents that will drag them across the land. These are the devils who will bear their souls away.”26 In view of all this, it is hardly surprising that the Marranos live among the Christians in fear; but, says the author, they know how to protect each other. If you touch one of them, all the others rush to his aid. Like the cranes, they protect themselves with many vigils and guards.’ So

you can hardly kill an

Alboraique through the process of justice, for he places over himself guard¬ ians, whom he gets by means of bribes and payments.” Thus,

as the cranes

come in the cold season, later wishing to return to their lands, and while they are here they cause us damage, so these came to us as captives [that is, after the conquest of Jerusalem], and since their arrival we received much harm from them; but now they wish to return to Judea.”27 It is obvious that some of the Old Christians believed that the Marranos desired to return tojudea. The same accusation was leveled at them later b\ the advisers of the Duke of Medina Sidonia when the Marranos were prepar ing to settle in Gibraltar (1473). Palencia refers to Messianic hopes that were supposedly current among the Marranos, and he also tells us that the conv er-

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sos were hoping that the Messiah would come to Seville.28 No doubt there was some awakening of Messianic hopes among the Marranos—or, more precisely, in the small movement of “returners” that sprouted after the persecutions of 1449,1462, and 1467. But there was no truth in the accusations of the duke’s counselors regarding the intentions of the Marranos to migrate to Jerusalem.29 If there was such a “movement” at all, it was undoubtedly very small, and like everything else that concerns Marrano Judaism, this tendency too was wildly exaggerated. Only in the wake of the establishment of the Inquisition, the persecutions in Portugal, the Expulsion from Spain, and the conquest of Palestine by the Turks (1516) do we see an actual movement of return not only to Judaism but to Palestine. But, as is known, even then its proportions were most limited. It represented a small minority of the “returners,” who represented a small minority of the Marranos.30 The author completes his picture of the conversos with a number of bold strokes. Generally the Marranos, he tells us, are pompous and vainglorious, noted for their great pride, haughtiness and madness.31 In their arrogance they wish to trample under their feet the Christians of the land in which they live. In fact, they prosper by theft and rapine. They rob the churches, buy the bishoprics, canonries, and other dignities of Holy Mother Church, assume positions of clerics, and do not believe in the holy Catholic faith or in the Mass which they say. Thus, in the tax collections and stewardships which were given them by the kings and the lords of the land, the rights of the true Christians are being encroached upon, because they raise the taxes (“pujen las rentas”) and rob widows and orphans and poor people and laborers. “ They take from the income of the rich whatever they can, and from the poor more than they should, and in doing this they follow the ways of the wicked (Psalms 10.9) who “catches the poor by attracting him.”32 Thus, having indicated their qualities, dispositions and conduct, the author evidently feels justified in defining them as a “vile stock” and an “accursed race,” despised by God, by the Christians and by the Moors.33 Nevertheless, bearing in mind that the Marranos, like most Christians, identified their race with that of the Prophets, the Apostles and Jesus Christ Himself, the author finds it necessary to explain that the conversos do not really belong to that race. When they returned to Judea from the captivity of Babylon, they married women of Edom, Moab, Ammon and Egypt, and of all the races of Babylon, and this they did also after the destruction of the Second Temple, when they came as captives to various countries and mar¬ ried women of all races. Thus, they became a mixed race, bad and reprobate, quite unlike the race of the tribe of Judah, which was originally good. As Jeremiah said: argentum reprobum vocate eos. He called them false silver. 1 he Christians who intermarried with this race did so with honest intentions, believing that this was the purest race on earth (la mas limpia generacion) that

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God had chosen to be His people. They did not realize the vileness of the lineage with which they intermarried.34 But the harm caused to the Christians’ “flesh” by intermixture with bad racial elements is paralleled by the even greater harm to their spirit caused by the infusion of wrong beliefs and heresies. The heresies of the conversos stem from ancient times; they inherited them from their ancestors, who came to Spain after the destruction of the Second Temple. Accordingly, some of them deny that there is any life beyond what we see between birth and death, while others among them adhere to false opinions held by some ancient jewish sects. In stressing the Marranos’ disbelief in the “other world

and in

enumerating the ancient Jewish sects, the author indubitably followed Espina,35 except that the latter refrained from ascribing the views of those sects to the New Christians. The author of the Alboraique, however, who identified the Marranos with the Jews, drew the conclusion implied in Espina s indica¬ tion.36 The author concludes his discussion of the conversos with a reference to their end—or rather to the solution of the Marrano question. “Unless these people are restrained and stopped,” he says, “they will cause even greater damage. But, as you can see, they now give them a rebuke which must be followed by cruel death through the sword. There should be fulfilled the prophecy of Moses (Deut. 32.42): ‘My sword shall devour flesh,’ which means: I shall avenge my devotees and harm those who hate me.”37 The author cites the words of St. Isidore: “There will arise in Spain a heresy among the people who crucified Christ. It will last seventy years, and on the seventieth year it will be destroyed by fire and sword.”38 Following the saint’s prediction, the author urges that the Marranos be annihilated through “ignited fire

(the

proposed inquisition) and “polished sword ’ (popular massacres). Here again he reminds us of Espina, with whose ideas he begins and ends his tract. Having thus identified the author as a fanatical anti-converso racist of Espina’s and Garda’s brand, we are not surprised at any part of his portrayal of the New Christians, except for one passage in which he differentiates between the northern conversos and the other ones. For unspecified reasons, he decides that, unlike all other New Christians, the northern ones are natural (i.e., not forced) converts; and “just as in Old Castile, Burgos, Palencia, Valladolid, Zamora, Salamanca and Leon they will hardly find among these natural converts any heretic, so in the kingdom ofToledo, Murcia, Andalucia and Extremadura you will hardly find among them faithful Christians.

It

was probably this passage that led Fidel Fita to assume that the author of the Alboraique was a Jew40—a notion that is not only untenable but incredible for a scholar of Fita’s caliber. What we gather from the seemingly odd passage is that the author of the Alboraique was, apart from anything else, a clever tactician. His differentiation between the northern conversos and the others

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may reflect a desire to show impartiality, and thereby strengthen the credibil¬ ity of the grave accusations he leveled at the great majority of the conversos, who lived in all other parts of the country. It would also soften his verdict of total annihilation, and thereby give it the aura of a just sentence. But the author must have known that the northern conversos were not shielded against his poisonous remarks any more than the southern ones. For what he said about their “mixed,” vile race and their natural tendencies (such as their refusal to fight and do hard work) were characteristics applied to all converso groups, regardless of their geographical location.

III. Alonso de Oropesa i

It would be impossible to offer a proper account of the positions taken by the Old Christians toward the conversos without considering in some detail the views of the man who, perhaps more than any other Old Chris¬ tian in his time, took up the cudgels on behalf of the conversos. He was Alonso de Oropesa, General of the Hieronymite Order in Spain, some of whose activities in connection with the converso problem have been dis¬ cussed in our survey of Enrique IV’s reign.1 Regrettably, beyond those reported activities, we know little of Oropesa s life. Only a few supplemen¬ tary data, all more or less of a marginal nature, can be offered to help us form a somewhat fuller or less fragmentary biography. No information is available on his family2 or his place and date of birth, or the year of his admission to the Hieronymite Order. He must, however, have been a young man when he began his career as a full-fledged friar in the Hieronymite Convent of Our Lady of Guadalupe3 after having studied arts and theology in the University of Salamanca.4 Oropesa was known as a brilliant student and later as a dedicated friar. He was noted for his learning, his piety, his humility and, above all, his zeal for the faith. Before long he became also known as a preacher. Several years after having “professed,” he was elected by the friars of Santa Catalina de Talavera as prior of their convent.5 There, impelled by the requirements of his office, he expanded and improved his preaching,6 so that he

became such a

master in this profession as to be considered one of the most distinguished of his time.”7 His fame spread, and his prestige grew. Several years later, in October 1456, he was elected prior of the Convent of San Bartolome de Lupiana, one of the oldest convents of the Hieronymites in Spain. His interest in the converso problem dated from the time of the Toledan rebellion of 1449 and the publication of the Sentencia-Estatuto. Oropesa was then still a novice of Guadalupe but already a man of mature judgment, independent thinking and acute observation of men and affairs. In the bloody persecution of the conversos in 1 oledo, including the denial of their right to office, he saw nothing but the product of criminal passions that fired the ambitions of evil men, and consequently he judged it a terrible outrage that should shock the consciences of all honest Christians. Unable to suppress his thoughts and feelings in the face of the spreading violence and bloodshed, Oropesa decided to express them in public, and it was then that he began to preach.8 He openly sided with the New Christians and fiercely attacked their

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opponents and persecutors as foes of Christian morality. The sermons gained Oropesa a following, and the prior of his convent, impressed by his argu¬ ments, urged Oropesa to summarize them in writing. It was in response to these urgings that Oropesa began to write his great work: Lumen ad revelationem gentium et gloria plebis Dei Israel9 He intended to have the book comprise two parts, one covering the theoretical aspects of the Jewish-converso problem and another dealing with its practical aspects as they manifest themselves in the Spanish kingdoms.10 Within several years he wrote some forty chapters, about two thirds of the first part, when his duties as prior of the convent of Talavera compelled him to interrupt the work. His election as General of the Hieronymite Order and as prior of San Bartolome only added to the burden of his administrative duties, and in the coming years Oropesa could not find time to concentrate again on his writing. In fact, he says, the affairs of the order “absorbed both my mind and my spirit to the point that I forgot, as the saying goes, my own name.”11 But the converso problem evidently haunted him, for it required only a single public request that he lend a hand toward its solution to shake him out of his preoccupations and focus his attention upon it. The event in question occurred in April 1460, when the leadership of the Franciscan order in Spain appealed to the Hieronymites to join them in an effort to establish an inquisition in Castile.12 It started a chain of rapid reactions that led Oropesa to assume, with royal sanction, the responsibility for the conduct of an inquisition in Toledo, whose task was to inquire into the religious deviations of all sections of the city population, Old and New Christians alike. His performance of this task and the ensuing developments were already described in the foregoing. We shall now add to this description only a few points, mostly touching on subsequent occurrences. After finishing his work as inquisitor in Toledo in April 1462, Oropesa set out to complete the book on the converso problem which he had begun to write twelve years before. He obviously thought that only a major work exposing all the facts relating to that problem could help dissipate the ignorance and malevolence that hampered its solution and poisoned the relations between the Old and New Christians. Oropesa may have started to implement his plan shortly after returning to the Convent of San Bartolome, but the work progressed slowly, no doubt because of his monastic duties and his other public involvements. Finally, however, on December 24, 1465, Oropesa completed the first part, and shortly thereafter, perhaps early in 1466, he wrote a new introduction to the book, which he dedicated to Archbishop Carrillo.13 Oropesa was on friendly terms with Carrillo from the time he discussed with him in Alcala his plan for the establishment of an inquisition in Toledo.

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Undoubtedly, Carrillo was favorably impressed with the results of Oropesa’s action as inquisitor, was well acquainted with his views on the converso problem and shared them at least to a large extent. This is why he urged Oropesa repeatedly to complete his unfinished Lumen, which was to include, among other things, a summary of his activities and findings in Toledo and the policies he recommended for the entire kingdom with respect to the religious situation. When Oropesa wrote that introduction to his book, Carrillo was in con¬ frontation with the King. He was the leader of the party that deposed Enrique and enthroned the King’s half-brother Alfonso. Oropesa of course was not involved in all this and stayed away from the political conflict. He expressed no opinion of the rebels’ actions and formally could be considered neutral.14 Oropesa felt free therefore to remind Carrillo of the part he played in the completion of the book by the moral support he offered its author, and earnestly to request him that he defend the work against foreseeable attacks by “malevolent men.” By this and other derogatory titles, Oropesa referred to the enemies of the conversos who, he knew, would be infuriated by his views and try to avenge themselves by maligning his work.15 In fact, his appeal to Carrillo shows that Oropesa sensed what was in the making. He evidently suspected that the division of the kingdom and the weakened authority of the central powers would encourage the anti-converso elements to raise a new fury against the New Christians. For obvious reasons Oropesa refrained from signifying, in his address to Carrillo, the political situation as a definite source of further social contamination. Otherwise, however, he did not mince words; and for this reason, his introduction must be seen as a most important addition to the work. It helps us ascertain beyond a shadow of a doubt where Oropesa saw the root of the converso problem and the source of the troubles between the Old and New Christians. Oropesa died on October 28, 1468, without ever writing the second part.16 The loss to scholarship is irreplaceable. Had he written that part, we would have had today a clear and detailed picture of the religious condition of the conversos that might have precluded many of the doubts raised in this connection in later times. Nevertheless, Oropesa s first part provides numer¬ ous clues for reconstructing his thinking on the converso question in both its theoretical and practical aspects. Therefore, the importance of his work for any inquiry into what happened in Castile in those decades can hardly be overestimated. It would seem that a work like the Lumen—a large-scale study of the converso problem, written by a religious leader of Spain who was the first to be appointed inquisitor in Castile, and as such was supposed to be intimatel) acquainted with all the aspects of the subject he dealt with, would attract the

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interest of all concerned, and that its evidence, opinions and conclusions would be eagerly examined by all students in the field. The history of scholarship, however, does not confirm this seemingly logical assumption. From the standpoint of its impact on the Spanish people, the book was virtually stillborn. Compared to Espina’s Fortalitium Fidei, which appeared in many editions, was widely discussed and frequently cited, Oropesa’s work was never published, never cited and, in all probability, rarely read. More¬ over, the fate of the author was similar to that of his work. For almost a century and a half after his death, Oropesa disappeared from the public eye, and he might have been destined for further oblivion had not Jose de Sigiienza, his fellow Hieronymite, revived his memory in his Historia de la Orden de San Jeronimo (1600). In addition to a sketch of Oropesa’s life, Sigiienza offered a summary of the views expressed in Oropesa’s unpublished work. Sigiienza, in a sense, put Oropesa back on the stage of Spain’s history in the 15th century; yet he did not bring him back to life insofar as his true image was concerned. The picture Sigiienza drew of Oropesa both as a thinker and a man of action lacked some of Oropesa’s distinctive features, and this may have been one of the reasons why interest in Oropesa remained slight. It took an additional three and a half centuries before another scholar, also a Hieronymite, produced a work on Alonso de Oropesa based on a new examination of the sources. This was Luis A. Dfaz y Diaz, who in 1973 published a sizeable article on Oropesa centering primarily on his work.17 Six years later, Dfaz y Dfaz published a Spanish translation of the Lumen.18 The translation is superb, but like all translations, it cannot fully replace the original. For scholarly purposes, the publication of the Latin version is still a desideratum. II

Dfaz y Dfaz found Oropesa’s work so similar to Alonso de Cartagena’s that he came to believe that the Lumen and the Defensorium may have been “mutually dependent.” If such dependence did not exist, “it seems necessary to assume,” Dfaz believed, “that, in some manner, both the Lumen and the Defensorium depended on an earlier author.”19 Such an author, Dfaz sug¬ gested, could be Dfaz de Montalvo.20 Both propositions are hard to accept. We might consider the possibility of mutual dependence if we had reason to assume that Oropesa and Cartagena consulted each other about the contents of their works and contributed to the formation of each other’s views. There is no basis, however, for such an assumption. We have no evidence that such consultations took place and no knowledge whatever of any personal contact between the two authors. Nor

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is there any reason to assume that the famous Cartagena would consult the novice of Guadalupe on a subject to which he gave much thought throughout his life. Furthermore, chronological considerations incline us to discard Diaz’ hypothesis. Cartagena, most probably, completed his work c. March 14505' while Oropesa began writing the Lumen in June or July of that year." Why then not follow the. simpler line of thought and conclude that if the Lumen resembles the Defensorium, the resemblance was due to the influence of Cartagena’s work upon that of Oropesa? Nor can we assume that both authors followed a common literary model. We know of no work on the converso problem that resembles in its plan, contents and form either the Lumen or the Defensorium. To be sure, both support many principles and doctrines that were upheld by other apologists of the conversos such as Montalvo, Fernan Diaz and Cardinal Torquemada, but this can be explained by the fact that these authors, who were all Christian theologians and jurists, took the same position on many of the issues that formed the themes of their discussions. That Oropesa had read Cartagena’s Defensorium before or during the writing of his own work can be gathered from the following similarities, f irst, both authors, as Diaz pointed out, have a “common aim and purpose

an

aim and purpose which are clearly indicated in the very titles of their books23; accordingly, both authors insist that the unity of the Church is the supreme ideal of Christianity, and both seek to prove that by defending the conversos, they protect that cherished ideal. Second, both works discuss the converso problem from the standpoint of a vast historical panorama from that of the whole history of Christianity and, in fact, of religion in general. And third, both works deal with many aspects, not only of converso, but also of Jewish life in the Spanish kingdoms in the fifteenth century. But while we should note these common features of the Lumen and the Defensorium, we cannot share Diaz’ opinion that the two works are also distinguished by an “extraordinary parallelism” in the sources they use, the arguments they employ, and the points of view that these arguments reveal. Many (though not all) of the sources they rely on are, to be sure, the same, much less is the identity of the arguments; and frequently different, or even contradictory, are the viewpoints expressed by the authors. Indeed, had there been a complete parallelism in all these matters

had the works differed, as

Diaz suggested, only in the “organization and systematization” of their mate¬ rials25—we could scarcely explain why Oropesa deemed it necessary to write his book at all. But the contents of the Lumen raise another problem which, we believe, ought to be answered before we can perceive the drift of the work and its author’s true motives. Structurally, the Lumen, a large-scale composition comprising about 250,000 words, is not divided into books or sections, but

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flows straight on, through fifty-one chapters, to its appointed end. Yet the reader will notice that the work is made up of two major parts of roughly equal length. While the first part deals primarily with the Jewish and the second with the converso problem, the connection between them is rather loose, and the entire first part appears non-essential for the subsequent discussion of the main subject. Why then did Oropesa write that “introduc¬ tion,” which seems as superfluous as it is copious, or at least does not seem to contribute materially to the understanding of his position on the converso problem? In the following survey of Oropesa’s work the reader may find an answer to this query. He may also find an adequate summary of the differences between the views of Oropesa and Cartagena who, in more ways than one, shared the position of other protagonists of the conversos. Above all, he will find a presentation of what constituted, according to Oropesa, the essentials of the converso problem and of the measures he regarded as indispensable for its alleviation and, ultimately, for its solution.

Ill According to Oropesa, a single faith had inspired all believers since the Fall of Man, and this was the faith in Jesus Christ, the mediator between God and man. Without this faith (“in some manner” or degree) nobody could ever have saved himself,26 just as nobody will be in a position to do so at any time in the future. Yet the prerequisite for salvation has never been absent, since groups of true believers existed in all periods, and from this we may also “analogically conclude that there has always been one universal Church that embraced all the faithful, the ancient and the new.” Its name was the Church of Saints.27 This was fundamentally an Augustinian concept, which Oropesa accepted with some modifications. But he seems to have abandoned Augustine’s view that (a) the faithful represented a carnal succession (from Seth to Abraham and then to Christ), and (b) that the Saints—i.e., the members of the Church—all shared a high standard of beliefs. Oropesa compared the Church to a vineyard that was planted gradually, little by little, and required in all the stages of its growth the care and attendance of a proper vinedresser.28 The vinedresser of the Church was of course God, and it was He who tended it from its earliest time, when the faith of its few followers was limited to bare essentials, until its following encompassed large masses, whose faith was characterized by its fullness and perfection.”29 Accordingly, Oropesa saw the history of religion as consisting of three major periods: the period of the Natural Law, that of the Written Law, and finally, that of the Law of Grace. Already at this point we can see a clear divergence of the views of Oropesa

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and those of Cartagena. For Cartagena identified the beginning of the faith— or at least its rise as a religious movement—with the appearance of Abraham on the scene of history. According to him, there were, prior to Abraham, only isolated individuals (such as Noah or Job) who were accepted by God for their right way of life, but there were no groups of followers and no church that carried the message of the faith in God. Such a following and such a church were formed by the Patriarchs, who raised the banner of the belief in God and, moreover, prepared, together with their offspring, the way of man’s salvation through Christ.30 To Abraham, therefore, credit is due that no man before or after him deserved. After long ages of general faithlessness, he opened the Age of Faith. It is obvious that according to Oropesa’s view of the history of religion (as outlined above), no such place could be assigned to Abraham or, for that matter, to any of the Patriarchs. According to Oropesa, both Abraham and his descendants lived in the period of Natural Law, a period which was not entirely faithless, but one in which the Church lived and grew. Abraham, like the other two patriarchs who followed him, were, to be sure, outstanding men, high above the common believers of their time in their religious devotion and comprehension. But besides them, there were in those days other men who were illumined by God with a special knowledge of the faith f so that also in this important respect the Patriarchs were not unique. In any case, according to Oropesa, Abraham did not open the Age of Faith, or even a special era in that age (as was believed, for instance, by Augustine3-). Consequently, his achievement did not constitute a turning point in the religious history of man. As Oropesa saw it, the first turning point in that history was marked by the giving of the Law; and the giving of the Law was not an act of man but purely an act of God. In describing the growth of religious consciousness, Oropesa found it necessary to point out that the faithful in the various periods of the faith, although they all had some common beliefs, differed in the number of the beliefs they shared, and they also differed in the clarity of their perceptions and the profundity of the truths that they grasped and upheld. Thus, in the period of the Natural Law, most of the faithful believed in two principles— the existence of God and the workings of His Providence33

but they did not

come to know the other principles, although the latter are implicit in the former, just as many truths of science are implicit in their axioms and other major propositions. We can understand the reasons for the partial obscurity that prevailed among the first believers. In science the implied truths may appear to our mind “through many deductions and a great deal of labor, while the truths implied in the first principles of faith can be revealed to man only through divine inspiration.34 And thus, in the first period

that of

Natural Law—only few individuals earned that inspiration and thereby

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gained knowledge of the implied truths.35 In the period of the Written Law, that condition changed. Some of the implied truths were clearly revealed to all, while the others were also half revealed to many through numerous prophetic hints and allusions.36 Finally, when the Law of Grace was pro¬ claimed, all the truths of the faith were explicitly declared, and thus became known—or at least could be made known—not only to a few select individu¬ als, or to a large group of saints, or even to a whole people, but to all the members of the human race.37 Insofar as the history of the faith is concerned, therefore, the Written Law occupied a midway position in the process of revelation of the divine truths to man. Its main value was in the method it employed to acquaint man gradually with the higher truths, thereby enabling him to grasp them fully when they were made public by Christ. Thus, though superior to the Law of Nature in the clarity, scope and level of its teachings, the Written Law was, in many respects, inferior to the Law of Grace, which replaced it. Oropesa devotes five full chapters to what he calls the “imperfections” of the Old Law38 compared to the New Law proclaimed by Christ. Thus, it was “imperfect” in its teachings about God (since it only hinted at the mysteries of His essence), as well as in its teachings about Providence (as it did not speak explicitly of the prerequisites of Redemption). Oropesa also censures the Law’s system of worship, which was based on the old forms of sacrifice forms which were not only improper in themselves, but virtually revolt our moral feelings. Oropesa then goes on to show various flaws of the Law in its three major fields: ceremonial, moral and judicial. He sees a great fault in the summum bonum (i.e., the attainment of material benefits) that the Law posited as man’s final end, and an even greater shortcoming in its failure to be guided in all its rulings by the principle of Love. In consequence, many of its laws are too harsh, while others are plainly so wrong and immoral as to clash directly with the Law of Grace. Oropesa recognized that all these “imperfec¬ tions” were unavoidable at the time when the Law was in force and were all designed for a good purpose. The Law had to educate a primitive people which was incapable of grasping the higher truths, and thus it had to suit that people’s understanding, and also to make concessions to its passions.39 It was not a law for man in a high religious state, and therefore, once its purpose was accomplished, it had to be abolished, as it actually was.40 Oropesa’s view of the Law is summarized in such expressions as “that crude and antiquated Mosaic Law” or “that coarse Old Testament” of which the Law was part.41 This was not the view of Cartagena. It is unthinkable that he could bring himself to speak of the Law, and the Old Testament in general, in such disparaging terms as those used by Oropesa, even though he too believed that the Old Law was “imperfect” in certain aspects, or rather from certain points of view. From these viewpoints, he agreed, one could see in it most of the

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“limitations” indicated by Oropesa, but he would sternly reject the under¬ tone of censure which so often accompanied Oropesa’s assessment. Instead, he would remind us that the Old Law embodies the wisdom of God, which is above all reproach,42 and that whatever it ordered was not merely necessary, but also moral in the highest degree. Moreover, he would, unlike Oropesa, stress the elements common to both laws (the Old and the New) rather than those in which they differ, and, above all, emphasize that what they have in common indicates, essentially, their identity. Accordingly, Cartagena says of the Old Law: “Here we do not speak of one of the laws which were born by the authority of men, such as those of Lycurgus, Phoroneus, or Numa Pompilius; here we speak of the divine law, which was not given to the gentiles before the advent of Christ.”43 And to show that Christ indeed gave the gentiles the same law God had given to thejews, he presentsjesus words in Matthew 5.17 that he “came not to destroy the Law but to fulfill it. 44 1 o be sure, he also offered Augustine’s comment, making clear that what Jesus “fulfilled” was the Law in its true and full meaning (the meaning which the Old Law often covered with symbols),45 but from this comment, too, he drew support for his view of the essential identity of the two laws. Thus, he emphasized that the Old Law prefigured what the new one fulfilled: it sometimes spoke tersely where the New one elaborated and cryptically where the New one was lucid, but actually it was the same law, given by the same God, having the same aim, and teaching the same things46 How deeply Cartagena was imbued with the conviction of the essential unity of two laws, and how far he was removed from such a view as Oropesa’s of the partial immorality of the Old Law, is evidenced by his discussion of the Old Law’s moral principles. Granted, he said, that the Old Law did not shun the use of fear and the threat of punishment to “restrain hearts inclined to vice,”47 but this does not mean that it ignored the law of Love, which, according to the Apostle, is the “bond of perfection. 48 In fact, he says, under the Old Law, the ancient fathers observed, in many things, the Law of the Gospel,”49 which meant that they followed the highest moral code that ordered us to love, not only our friends, but also our enemies and persecutors. To prove this he cites Origen’s comments on Numbers 16: 20-23 which deal with Moses’ and Aaron’s prayer for their enemies, and concludes with Ori¬ gen’s far-reaching statement: “The truth of the Gospel, then, is found in the Law, and the Gospel is based on the foundation of the Law. 50 1 hen he adds that in other matters, too—matters that are generally hard to understand

it

offered those capable of deeper reflection clear knowledge of the implied truths. “For not only did it show that God exists, but also the Trinity of the divine persons, as well as the Incarnation of the Word of the Lord. Also the question of the world’s creation which Aristotle left undecided, and apart from this, many doctrines and observances of religious duties, and also the

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future advent of Christ, and the perfection which is to come in Him and with Him, all of which human reason could not attain, are explained in the Law correctly and lucidly. Hence the prophet says: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”51 This verse from Psalms, which Cartagena cited here in support of his view of the Mosaic Law, shows perhaps more than anything else how far removed was his position on the Old Law from that of Oropesa.

IV

Oropesa’s view of the Written Law was related, as we have seen, to his view of its recipients—i.e., to their moral and intellectual deficiencies, which rendered them incapable of adopting a higher law suitable to a nobler way of life. But this evaluation of the ancient Jews, in which he followed estab¬ lished opinion, represents only a small part of his reflections on the Jewish people. As we shall see, his idea of the Jews comprises various conflicting elements, and is far too complex to be reduced to a formula that would represent them all. From the standpoint of man’s religious development, Jewish history was divided, according to Oropesa, into two large periods—the same two periods into which the history of all mankind was divided after the giving of the Law— the />rc-Christian and the Christian. But judged by its impact upon the lives of the people, the first of these periods—i.e., the />rc-Christian—was of immeasurably greater significance to the Jews than to all other nations. For while to most members of the human race that period was a continuation of their past, an extension of their era of Natural Law as well as their former way of life, it was to the Jews the Age of the Law, a law that was novel and an age whose beginning coincided with the start of their national life. What is more, that beginning was marked by an act—a divine act relating only to them: the Election of the Jews as the People of God; and it implied a distinction which both Jews and Christians viewed as a prerequisite to the giving of the Law. Any presentation of Oropesa’s view of thejews, as well as their moral and historical course, must therefore begin with his view of the Election—that unique event that seems to indicate at once the birth and the destiny of the Jewish people. What was it that made thejews, of all nations, to be chosen to that highest standing and function? This was of course the first question Oropesa felt impelled to answer. That the Election of thejews as the People of God was based on no merit of the Chosen People was a view expressed both in the Law and the Proph¬ ets,52 and as such it was upheld by some foremost Jewish thinkers, as well as by all Christians since the days of Paul.53 The old biblical statements, how-

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ever, attributed the Election to the merits of the Patriarchs, who earned it as a reward, and to God’s faithfulness to the assurances he gave the Patriarchs and, hence, to His will to carry them out.54 But Christian doctrine ignored this biblical explanation, and rejected the assumption that the merits of the Patriarchs played any part in determining the Election. Consequently, the Election, as viewed by Christian thinkers, was a pure act of divine grace. Oropesa accepted this doctrine and also sharpened some of the arguments that had been offered in its behalf. Not only does he cite the Bible as evidence that the Election was not based on the people s merit55 but, following St. Thomas, he also dissociates the Election from any virtue of the Patriarchs.56 In fact, even God’s love for Abraham himself was not based on merits, as Augustine has shown57; and thus the love, the promise, and the Election itself stemmed from no consideration of merit; they were “free and gratuitous, says Oropesa58—or, in other words, pure acts of grace. But Oropesa also expressed another idea which touched directly on the question of the Election and which should be given special attention. Accord¬ ing to the prevalent view of the Election, thejewish people was chosen by God to be His from among all the peoples of the world. This was the view propounded in the Bible, directly and indirectly, in many places59; and taken by them¬ selves, such statements would suggest that thejewish people was distinguished by some qualities that earned it that divine choice. Oropesa, however, struck at the heart of this notion by claiming that the Jews could not have been chosen from among all other peoples for the simple reason that prior to the Election, they did not constitute a people. The idea was not his. It was borrowed from Augustine, who based it on a certain assertion of Cicero concerning the nature and rise of peoples. In Cicero’s opinion, as set forth in his Republic, a people is not just an aggregate of individuals; it is an association based on a common moral sense which is embodied in a just order.60 But a truly just order, Augustine explained, cannot be conceived without a just legislation.61 And from this Oropesa could readily conclude that prior to the giving of the Mosaic Law, the Jews were a “multitude unworthy of the name ‘people.’ ”62 1 heir formation as a people followed the giving of the Law, and not vice versa, as Thomas thought. This was of course a “revolutionary” conclusion; and it could hardly be detached from Oropesa’s thinking about the reasons for the Election. For if the Jews were not a “people” prior to the Election, which must have preceded the giving of the Law, they evidently did not have any

national

qualities that could make them a subject of national distinction. They were just a group of men held together by descent, a kind of human herd bound by natural relationships, natural urges, instincts and interests. That such a herd should be “chosen” as God’s people for its merits—i.e., its high moral achievements—appears not only far-fetched but untenable.

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If we now turn to Alonso de Cartagena, we can see that he, too, like so many before him, accepted the doctrine of Election by Grace. In view of the support accorded this doctrine in Christian theological literature, he obvi¬ ously had no choice in the matter. Nevertheless, he tried to weaken its foundations by cautiously hinting that the contrary view (i.e., of Election by merit) could not be utterly discounted. Thus, when he referred to Malachi’s statement that God loved Jacob and hated Esau (Mai. i. 2—3) and to Pauls words in Romans (9.11) that this attitude of God existed even before the brothers were born (and, hence, before they did good or evil), he also cites the Apostle’s query and answer: “Is there unrighteousness with God? Forbid it!” which seem to contradict in unequivocal terms the idea of reward for no merit. Then, striking further at the roots of the notion that the Election resulted solely from Grace, Cartagena adds: The Holy doctors [of the Church] said that the love and hate of God originated in his foreknowledge of future events, discerning by his judg¬ ment the future works of people, for although God loved all the things he had created, he loved especially those that are enemies of vice, and hated those who are lovers of vice. Hence, Augustine, commenting on [the verse] “Therefore has He mercy on whom He will have mercy, and whom He will, he hardens” (Romans. 9.18), says: “But this will of God cannot be unjust for it comes from hidden merits" . . . whence, “I sanctified thee in the womb” (Jer. 1.5), and “I loved Jacob, and hated Esau.”63 Cartagena realized of course that by citing these words of the

holy

doctors” and of Augustine he deviated from the dominant Christian view on the subject. Therefore he hastened to correct himself by saying: I have not inserted these words as if to say that the merits of someone would be the cause of divine predestination; and in this too I follow the words of Augustine who, as the author of the Sententiae said,64 changed his position—first, because if grace is granted for merits, it seems, in a way, to be emptied, and second, because nothing can precede the eternity of the divine will, and therefore it does not appear sound to indicate a cause as something that preceded the will of God.65 This, however, was not a complete retreat. For following this “explana¬ tion,” Cartagena comes back to say that we may nevertheless “conjecture that the profound wisdom of God has ordained [everything] for a certain end, and when we designate something as the cause, we merely think that such gifts of God did not proceed without any reason.” Yet if so, who can say that what we call the “reason” was not the merit foreseen by God? Cartagena does not say this explicitly, of course. But he seems to be leading us to this conclusion when he returns to the issue under discussion with the words: “Therefore, we should not think that that uniqueness of love [shown by God to Israel

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through the Election] came about without a reason. For, asjob said: ‘Nothing on earth occurs without a reason.’ ”66 There can be no doubt that these speculative manipulations were aimed at establishing a foothold for the belief that the Election of the Jews as the People of God was not without relation to their merits. Oropesa, of course, would have none of this. And thus, on the Election as on the Law, the two thinkers differed—if not in their conclusions, at least in their attitudes toward the Jewish heritage and in their basic conceptions of the part the Jews played in the religious history of mankind.

V

Having clarified Oropesa’s view of the Election and where it differed from that of Cartagena, we can now move to examine his view of the Jews, their conduct and their life in the />rc-Christian era. This task, however, which seems easy at the outset, soon appears to be beset with difficulties. For Oropesa starts with a series of assertions which together form an evaluation of the Jews, and this evaluation is opposed to the views he expressed in the later part of his discussion. « The main contradictory statements we refer to appear in chapters 9-13.67 Here we are informed that prior to Christ’s coming, the Jews were the “only true people of God” and, further, that they “served and obeyed only the true God, ” while all the other groups of men served idols.68 Here we also hear that the Jews in those times constituted the only “authentic republic,”69 since a true republic must be based on just laws and only the Jews, who received the divine Law, possessed equitable laws to guide them. Further, we hear that “mother synagogue” in those days “represented the image of the City of God, just as the Militant Holy Mother Church represents the Triumphant in its glory.”70 Accordingly, we are not surprised to hear that the Jews in that age—i.e., the pre-Christian era—were “the people, the republic and the Church of the faithful” at one and the same time.71 Moreover, the impact of this highly moral people was not limited to its own way of life. Thanks to their Law, priesthood and conduct, the Jews formed a “divine mirror” for the gentiles72; and indeed many gentiles, by divine inspiration, or “under the influence of their converse with the Jews,” joined the divine cult and followed the Law, or became such upright and faithful persons that, although they remained under the Law of Nature, they were accepted by God and could be saved. And Oropesa concludes his assessment of the Jews by saying: “Thus was prepared by means of that Jewish people the salvation of all the gentiles,” or, to use here another phrase of his, “the redemption of the whole human race.”73 These were of course words of high praise that could match those of Juan

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de Torquemada. But as if he forgot his own words, or as if it mattered little or nothing, Oropesa, in his later discussion of the Jews, gives us quite a different appraisal—indeed, so different that it can remind us of the former only by its sharp contrast. For here we see him follow in the footsteps of Chrysostom, the most rabid Jew hater of the Church fathers, and present the latter’s judgments of the Jews as the last word on the subject. Accordingly, the Jews in the /irc-Christian era are now described by Oropesa as Chrysos¬ tom had portrayed them—namely, as a people that committed heinous crimes, practiced the most abominable profanities and showed flagrant dis¬ obedience to God. “They have worshiped idols, persecuted the prophets, murmured against God, risen against Moses, and sacrificed their sons and daughters to demons.”74 Indeed, asks Oropesa in Chrysostom’s words: “What tragedy, what type of evil have they [i.e., the Jews] not surpassed in their lewdness?... Have not the Prophets devoted to them all those long reproach¬ ful discourses?”75 Yes, answers Oropesa, the Prophets denounced them, and God punished them, sometimes so severely that they almost broke under the whip, but only to make them come back to Him repeatedly, not wholeheart¬ edly and not for long. For “neither by the influence of the oracles of the Prophets, nor by the harshness of the punishments they endured could they separate themselves from the idolatry of the gentiles, or maintain themselves in some manner in the observance of the Law. They have continually abandoned God and returned to the rites of the gentiles.”76 There seems to be no way of coordinating this view of the Jewish people as compulsive criminals with his view of them as the People of God and the bearers of the divine truths to mankind. Oropesa, of course, does not fail to offer reasons for that “foul and infamous” conduct of the Jews, and these reasons, as we shall see, only deepen the gulf between his two assessments. Indeed, further consideration will leave us with no doubt as to what his dominant view was. It was the second, the negative, the condemnatory one, and it applied to the Jewish people as a 'whole and to the general course of its behavior.77 It need scarcely be said that this view of Oropesa was quite unlike that of Alonso de Cartagena. The latter would of course readily admit that Israel had repeatedly retreated from God and often deviated from the path of righ¬ teousness; but despite these retreats and deviations, he believed, the impact of the Law and the Prophets was decisive in shaping its character and way of life, so that Israel became a unique people, superior to all other peoples in the world. Thus Cartagena argued that when Isaiah says: “Arise, Jerusa¬ lem, for thy light has come,” he indicated that “the light had belonged to the Jerusalemites, that it came to them from the Law which was given them and from the fulfillment of the Law which took place 'within them.”78 Granted, said Cartagena, that the prophets reproached Israel and sometimes even

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rebuked it sharply, but they also praised it in glowing terms, and “praise has never ceased.”19 Thus said Moses: “For the Lord’s portion is his People, Jacob is the lot of his inheritance” (Deut. 32.9). And in another place: “Who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and the sword of thy excellency?” (Deut. 33.29). In such eulogies of the Jews Cartagena sees proof that “the vices of the bad could not harm the virtues of the righteous,” and that neither will those vices be able to prevent the ultimate salvation of uall the seed of Israel.” And while he admits that in many redemption prophe¬ cies “Israel” signified the “faithful” of all origins, he rejects the negation of the literal sense in which he sees the “root” of all other explanations—and the literal sense, he repeatedly asserts, refers to Israel the people. In fact, he sees in that symbolic meaning further proof of his basic thesis, for he does not hesitate to accept the implied assumption that “so great was the Israelitic purity (i.e., the purity of the Jews in the /^-Christian era) that by this name of the people of Israel all the faithful were designated”80

VI

There is more to be said on Oropesa’s view of the Jews in the />rc-Christian era and where it differed from that of Cartagena. But the essential things have been said, we believe; and thus we shall now turn to Oropesa’s thoughts on the Jews in the Christian era, beginning with their attitude toward the Pas¬ sion—the event which stood on the threshold of the new age and which, according to Christian belief, served as the divide between man’s past and future. Were “the Jews” involved in Christ’s crucifixion? Were they responsible for it in any degree? And if so, in what manner—and why? We have seen that until the thirteenth century, the opinions of Christian theologians on this question oscillated between two leading views: one that absolved the Jews of fall guilt, since they were ignorant of Jesus’ messiahship and divinity, and another that freed them from intentional deicide, since they did not know that Jesus was God, but not from the crime of killing the Messiah, who was recognized by many Jews. It was only in the thirteenth century, as we have noted, that the view of the Jews’ full responsibility for the Passion began to dominate Christian thinking. Thus it was assumed that the Jews (or their leaders) murdered Jesus out of sheer malice, though they knew full well who and what He was—that is, both the Messiah and the Son of God.81 There were, to be sure, deviations from this view, as well as variations of the main thesis, but taken as a whole Christian opinion veered toward the gravest incrimination of the Jews. What was Oropesa’s stand on this question? Oropesa ignores Cartagena’s claim that only a fewjews favored the Cruci¬ fixion, while the rest of them were either unaware of it, or, if aware, opposed

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or bemoaned it. Insisting that the Jewish people as a whole was, in a way, responsible for the Passion, he seeks to prove this by statements from Scrip¬ ture, including the one in which Peter, the Apostle, while addressing Jews, said ofjesus’ crucifixion:

.. whom you have delivered and denied in Pilate’s

presence, when Pilate was determined to let him go.”82 Curiously, he failed to cite in this connection Paul’s more explicit and more damaging testi¬ mony—namely, that “thejews killed our Lordjesus”83—perhaps because he thought it to be too extreme. After all, thejews did not “kill”Jesus; they only “delivered” and “denied” Him, as Peter said. Similarly, he discards Cartagena’s argument that none of thejews, includ¬ ing their leaders, had any knowledge of Jesus’ divinity—a fact that occa¬ sioned Jesus’ own statement: “Forgive them, O Father, for they know not what they do.”84 He simply rejects the appeal to ignorance as an extenuating circumstance that may justify clemency, forgiveness, or mere reduction of punishment. His references to the Passion leave us with the impression that the entire Jewish people committed the deicide—knowingly, intentionally and even wantonly, and hence, it must bear full responsibility for the hideous crime.85 But this raises a most difficult question which appears prima facie inscruta¬ ble. If ignorance is excluded as a reason for the deicide, what was the reason? After all, we deal here with the most horrid crime ever perpetrated in the history of man, and the perpetrator was, according to Oropesa, no other than the people chosen by God. What could lead a people, so preferred and blessed, to commit such an atrocity? The answer was again given by Chrysostom, Oropesa’s mentor on most “Jewish” matters. Chrysostom related the Jews’ crime against Jesus to their whole course of conduct under the Written Law. The deicide, as he saw it, was merely an extension of the numerous crimes they had committed before—i.e., “in the /»r-Christian era—and it was also the crime by which they reached the climax of their continuous doing of evil. As Paul said of the Jews when he spoke to the Thessalonians: “All this time they have been making up the full measure of their guilt, and now retribution has overtaken them for good and all.”86 This view of thejews as incessant criminals whose crimes were steadily rising to their peak puts the deicide in line with their record—or rather their alleged immoral record—and brings it closer to our understanding. We are still, however, baffled by the record itself. What was the cause of that attach¬ ment to evil that had characterized thejews since antiquity? Chrysostom had no doubt about it; nor had Oropesa. It was the influence of the Ancient Serpent, he says, by whom thejews have always been fascinated and who frequently managed to draw them to his side by his offers and persuasions.87 Thus, the Ancient Serpent, the Devil,

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pulled them repeatedly away from God’s path, to be recurringly saved from his clutches only by God’s infinite mercy. Finally, however, when they committed the deicide, God removed his grace from the Jews. He left them to pursue their natural intents, and thus they fell completely under the Devil’s sway, so that their evil ran its full circle. The Sons of Saints became Sons of Satans, and the People of God became the People of the Devil in the true and full sense of the word. But the removal of God’s grace did not mean only that God had aban¬ doned the Jews. It was also accompanied with a frightful punishment—“a perpetual captivity” and a “wretched” desolation that was to “last forever without

amnesty.”88

Considering

the

rule

that

“adversity

discovers

virtue”—a rule that was recognized by the Prophets and the Psalmists, as well as by so many saints of later times—one might assume that their harsh captivity would lead the Jewish culprits to regret their sins, or at least prevent them from doing further wrong. But nothing of the kind happened to the Jews. They neither repented nor stopped doing evil. In fact, they did the very opposite. They strengthened their resolve to go on sinning and stiffened their resistance to moral behavior. According to Oropesa, “the Jews of today are more obnoxious and unfaith¬ ful than they have ever been, and they are also worse than the gentile idolaters who to this day worship images.”89 To be sure, the Jews boast of their faithfulness to the Law and their observance of all its precepts. But this is part of their problem. Like demented people, they flee salvation. They violated the Law when they had to observe it, and now, when it is abolished, they seek to fulfill it.90 Today, as in the past, their conduct reflects their obstinacy, their blindness, and their rebelliousness against God. What is the reason for this strange derangement which makes the Jews persist in their lust of evil under the most adverse conditions? Oropesa again points to the cause by which he explained their most tantalizing crime—i.e., the crime of the Deicide: “The Ancient Serpent drags them now to condem¬ nation, hardening them in their infidelity, with the same cunning he used to push them to perdition when he drew them in a thousand manners to idolatry, and drove them away from the very laws which now they profess to observe with such zeal.”91 So sure is Oropesa of the Devil’s influence on the Jews, and consequently of their incurable blindness, that he has no doubt that “if Christ had reap¬ peared and preached to them today, they would not have believed Him, but ambushed and crucified Him, precisely as their fathers did” when he ad¬ dressed them.92 Now that they cannot harm Christ, however, they merely “bark against Him like the mad dogs they are” and persecute His followers.93 In describing the Jewish persecution of the faithful, Oropesa does not mention such alleged atrocities as the killing of Christian children and the

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like, the kind of which we find in such abundance in Espina. As he saw it, what the Jews were really after was not the physical annihilation of Chris¬ tians, but the spiritual destruction of Christianity. And at this, he believed, they ceaselessly labor. He realized that thejews “cannot and dare not convert the faithful to their infidelity,”94 but they can, he was sure, corrupt the Christians’ morals, pervert their beliefs, and contaminate their faith. Thus, in his opinion, of all the enemies of Christendom—including the heretics, the schismatics and the Saracens—thejews were by far the most dangerous. But if so, one must ask: Why the toleration? Why does Christendom suffer them in its midst? Why does it not fight them with fire and sword as it fights the Saracens when “they invade our lands?” Why does it not treat them as it treats the heretics, whom it exterminates when they refuse to abjure? Oropesa offers a double answer, or an answer which is partly moral-religious and partly “practical”-utilitarian. On the moral part we shall touch later on. Here we shall refer to the “practical” part, which related to the great majority of thejews. Oropesa took it from Augustine. Augustine’s explanation was not only known but also accepted by all Christian theologians, who did not find it in any way faulty or distasteful from an ethical standpoint. The Church does not kill the Jews, argued Augustine (in a famous passage in his City of God), for the following reason only: They are more useful to it alive than dead. As faithful guardians of the prophetic works, and at the same time as enemies of the Christians, they prevent the rise of the possible accusation that the Christians falsified the prophecies about Christ. Thus, by attesting the verity of the texts, which they fail to understand and commonly misinterpret, thejews testify to the verity of Christ and the truth of His redemption. The upshot of this is that it is in the interest of Christianity that thejews be present in every part of the world, including of course all the countries of Christendom.95 Yet this means that Christians are strictly forbidden not only to kill thejews but also to expel them, as well as to impose on them such hardships and coercions that would deny them the chance to live. And so Oropesa concludes: “We can neither persecute them nor exterminate them nor drag them by force to the faith. We have to suffer them among us.”96 This then is the problem facing the Church: it must keep in its domains these implacable foes, who “look with viperish yearning to the heel of the faithful,”97 and at the same time take every possible precaution against their lethal attacks. Oropesa knows no better precaution than the system of protec¬ tion provided by the Church. He enumerates all the restrictive laws enacted by the Church against thejews throughout the centuries, and he repeatedly reproaches the princes and the prelates for violating these restrictions by employingjews and treating them amicably and honorably. Not only should Christians not socialize with Jews; they “should constantly avoid them with

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outmost care.” And Oropesa’s recommendation to all Christians is that they steadily refrain from speaking to Jews, or speak to them as little as possible; but even better than minimizing converse with the Jews is to “detest and abhor them like the pest.”98 How the Jews can survive in a society from which they are almost totally ostracized, Oropesa did not say. Nor does he explain why he failed to define the treatment he recommended for the Jews as “persecution,” or how he could view the repressive measures imposed upon the Jews by the Church’s legislation as “humane” and indicative of Christian compassion. But all these contradictions are resolved when we recall that Oropesa was a man of his time, an ardent believer in the teachings of the Church, its moral code, and its policy toward thejews. From all this he concluded, by logical deduction, that even the mere presence ofjews in Christendom was proof of Christian toleration and forbearance. We can understand this better when we cite some expressions by which he characterized thejews or summarized his view of them: “mad dogs,” “a race of vipers,” “virulent serpents,” creatures whose “souls are inhabited by demons,” “servants of Satan” and “sons of the Devil.”99 What more can be expected of Christians in their dealings with so evil and dangerous a people?

VII

It need scarcely be said that these conceptions of thejews in the second half of their historical existence—that is, in the Christian era—were far removed from those upheld by Cartagena. To be sure, Cartagena’s view of thejews in that era was likewise most critical, harsh and derogatory, but it was not as negative as that of Oropesa, and, in fact, it was mixed with positive elements, as we shall presently see. We have already shown how Cartagena tried to exculpate thejews (save a small minority) from the crime of the Passion and how he differed in this matter from Oropesa. But this does not mean that he thought the Jews blameless in their age-old, relentless quarrel with Christianity. As he saw it, thejews, in their conduct with Christ, incurred heavy guilt that had to be expiated; but their crime—at least, the crime of their majority—was not the Crucifixion, but the denial of Christ, their rejection of the Savior and His message of salvation. To be sure, here too he tried to minimize the blame by stressing their ignorance ofjesus’ divinity—an ignorance that could mitigate their guilt just as it diminished that of the gentiles. Nevertheless, he believed that in this particular respect—namely, their rejection of Christ—thejews could not be compared to the gentiles. They, as the people of the Patriarchs and the Prophets, should have known better. And precisely because Alonso de Cartagena so valued thejews of the pre-

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Christian era, he could not see their rejection of Christ and Christianity the way it was seen by Oropesa—as the culmination of a criminal trend that marked their life from its inception. Rather did he view their life under Christianity as a period of fall and decline—a precipitous fall from a high moral level and a steady decline ever since. The “fall” took place during Christ’s earthly presence, with the Jews’ disparaging treatment of Jesus, and the decline was expressed in the intellectual deterioration that paralleled their deepening social misery. Cartagena regarded the long captivity of the Jews as a gruesome punishment, political and social, but still worse in his eyes was the spiritual punishment that this condition entailed. For while through their long exile and dispersion thejews lost most civil and natural nobilities, they lost, through their denial of Christ, the theological nobility by which they were distinguished. Moreover, they became religiously “slaves” (which devotion to the Law in the Christian era means), while in the “civil” or “natural” sense, they were never reduced to real slavery. We do not really know what Cartagena’s view was of the various restric¬ tions placed upon thejews, although we may assume that, like Oropesa, he supported the Church’s formal policy. In any case, despite all those numer¬ ous restrictions, he saw the Jews in Christendom as free men from both the “civil” and “natural” standpoints, and unlike Oropesa, he was not morally incensed, nor did he fret or show discontent, when he spoke of thejews who counseled Christian rulers or brought legal suits against their Christian lords.100 Evidently, he considered it quite normal for thejews, not only to retain their basic freedoms but also to exercise these freedoms in public. And what we may further conclude from the above is that he did not see thejews as “satanic” beings who ought to be avoided by the Christians like a plague. Jews who speak freely to Christians, he believed, presented no danger to Christianity, while free talk of Christians with Jews could pose danger only to theirjudaic faith. Experience has confirmed this in recent decades, and this was also part of his converso credo, which stood for a converso-Jewish dialogue aimed at converting thejews to Christianity. But there was something else in which the bishop of Burgos differed from the Hieronymite leader. Cartagena did not see in the condition of thejews merely a result of the obstinate Jewish “blindness,” but the latest stage in a “chain reaction” that brought about that blindness itself. What, however, started that strange “chain”? Already Paul had pondered the great mystery that “part of Israel was struck with blindness,” but he left that mystery, in the main, unresolved. Oropesa and Cartagena, however, proposed answers. Oropesa attributed the Jewish attitude toward Christ to the influence of the Devil; Cartagena, to the historic design of God. For according to this design, as Cartagena perceived it, the “fall” of the Jews was not a total fall and the “decline” was not endless and total either.

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Thus, whenever he referred to the beginning of the Christian era, he stressed what the Apostles and other Jews did for the initiation and expansion of Christianity; and who can associate that activity with “falling”? And when he thought of the Jews in times to come, he foresaw them playing a leading role in the Church, both militant and triumphant. And who can regard this as a “decline”? Thus, when one considers his overall view of the Jewish people in the Christian era, one must conclude that he saw the Jews, despite their % partial fall and earlier decline, as destined to rise to an even higher peak than the one they had reached under the Written Law. Obviously, to Cartagena, such a destiny was a fitting—indeed, the only fitting end for the history of the people that inaugurated, under Abraham, the Age of Faith in mankind and was elected as the People of God.

VIII

Our survey of the first part of the Lumen shows that Oropesa was not precisely a mouthpiece of Cartagenian ideas about the Jews, but followed his own line of thought, which occasionally coincided, but more often clashed, with that of Alonso de Cartagena. In fact, the antagonisms between the two thinkers were not only more numerous, but also more pronounced than the similarities we can discern in their evaluations of the Jews in both the preChristian and Christian era. Yet by clarifying Oropesa’s view of the Jews and wherein it differed from that of Cartagena, we have not yet answered the basic question that inevita¬ bly emerges from our exposition. For the Lumen was supposed to be devoted to a discussion of the converso, not the Jewish, problem, and the first part of the work, which deals with thejews, should therefore be regarded as prelimi¬ nary to its remainder, which deals with the conversos. \et our survey of Oropesa’s thinking of the Jews has shown no relationship to the converso situation. And this brings us back to our original query: Why this elaborate treatise on thejews? Do we have here simply a structural flaw, a case of an author carried away by his thoughts on a subordinate, though related, sub¬ ject? Or was it part of an elaborate plan which Oropesa conceived for his work from the outset? We ought to bear these questions in mind when we come to discuss Oropesa’s position toward the converso problem in Spain.

IX

Oropesa’s views on the Spanish conversos can be better understood if we first note his views on the Jewish convert in general

that is, on the convert

from Judaism to Christianity as a historical phenomenon. Inevitably, his attitude toward this “historical” convert affected his stand toward the

con-

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Crete” convert—i.e., the one of his own country and time whom he met, observed and examined. To put both these attitudes in clearer perspective, we shall try to isolate them from each other. But this, of course, is not always attainable. Since the two phenomena of conversion are intertwined and have many aspects in common, it is sometimes impossible to discuss the one without touching upon the other. In seeking to establish the view he should take toward the Jewish convert in general, Oropesa could tread a well-marked path. The subject had been discussed in Christian literature since the Gospels on many occasions and in considerable detail. Not that all authors shared the same view of the converts from Judaism. There were both positive and negative assessments, and one could find enough sources to draw on to form various opinions “on good authority.” But any serious theologian could distinguish between the leading and second-rate masters, and on top of this, there was the Church law that indicated Christianity’s formal position. Thus, it should not have been dif¬ ficult for Oropesa to identify the true authoritative guidelines and follow them, if he wished, in his conclusions. In fact, he did identify and follow them and, consequently, formed a favorable opinion of the Jewish converts to Christianity—so favorable, in¬ deed, that it sharply contrasted with his critical view of the Jewish people. Moreover, his positive view of the Jewish convert in general forced him to soften or considerably limit some of his adverse judgments of the Jews. Thus, he was compelled to modify his assertion that “all thejews were condemned forever without amnesty.” Since the Jewish converts were saved from that fate, that verdict could not possibly stand unaltered. To retain it, Oropesa, more than once, had to explain it. He had to make it clear that he referred not to «//Jews, but to a certain category among them. By “Jews” he meant those who remained in their Jewishness to the very end of their lives. With the verdict of damnation so redefined, Oropesa could foresee that “God will always convert some Jews to the faith”—i.e., those whom “before¬ hand He wanted to convert, so that they pass to belong to his people.” But this does not apply only to the future. For “some” Jews, he says, had been converted to Christianity also in the past, remote and recent—in fact, from the beginning of the Church down to our own time.101 And that the term “some” did not mean a small number is clear from several other statements that Oropesa made on the subject. For what he says plainly in these state¬ ments is that the converts from Judaism were not few but numerous—if not in relative, at least in absolute numbers; they were by no means a negligible quantity, as some might be inclined to assume. Indeed, says Oropesa, “many of thejews who contemplated the prophe¬ cies” both before the Passion and after the Resurrection, “came to Christ,” and, following His instructions, laid the foundations of the edifice of the faith.

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They formed the membership of the nascent Church and at least the majority of the thousands of converts who were baptized in response to Peter’s call. What is more, this “coming [of thejews] to Christ” was not limited to certain occasions—to specific occurrences, periods and the like—but constituted an uninterrupted movement from the appearance of Christ on. For thejews, says Oropesa, “have always converted themselves” (in the past), they keep converting themselves every day (in the present), and many of them will continually convert themselves (in the future), the process to persist “until the end of days, when all of them will convert to the last man.”102 In this exposition, which clearly spoke of the ceaseless flow of converts from Juda¬ ism to Christianity, of the major part they played in building the Church, of the large-scale conversion of the Jews and, above all, of the “end” as the culmination of this process, and not (as it had been commonly maintained) its main fulfillment, Oropesa shows clear traces of the influence wielded on his thinking by the converso apologists. With all this, however, we should not ignore the difference between his and their position on this issue. We have seen how Torquemada sought to undermine the notion that only “few Jews” were converted to Christianity from its inception until his own generation, and that only a “remnant” of them would be saved with the second coming of Christ. We have also seen how Cartagena (and the Relator) revised the concept of the ultimate conver¬ sion by stressing that Jews would be converted in large numbers not just at but until the end, when all the remaining Jews would be converted. Oropesa, as we have noted, accepted these revisions. He admitted that Jews came in droves to the faith not only in ancient but also in later times, and that they keep coming to it daily. But unlike Torquemada, who stressed Paul’s saying that “T// of Israel will be saved,” Oropesa could not make light of Pauls prediction that merely a "remnant " of Israel would be rescued. He obviously had to coordinate Paul’s statement with his view of the current of Jewish conversion which, in its totality, was by no means insignificant, and he came up with an explanation that the word “remnant” was used by the Apostle in a figurative sense. Compared to the masses who remained unconverted (and, in consequence, unredeemed), the Jews who did convert to Christianity, however large their quantity in absolute numbers, appeared merely as a “remnant.”103 And there was of course a basis for this “appearance.” for bearing in mind all the past generations, it is obvious that only a minority of thejews—and, indeed, only a small minority—was saved by conversion to Christianity, whereas their great or overwhelming majority was doomed to eternal perdition. So while drawing near the conversos’ stand at this particu¬ lar point, Oropesa here too appeared to conform to the traditional Christian view. Undoubtedly, his opinion of the Jewish converts and the great place they

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occupied in the structure of the Church could not have been formed if he had not considered them devoted Christians, imbued with the beliefs and ideals of the Faith. Yet when he comes to answer the question: What brought these former Jews to the Church?, he lets us understand that only the first con¬ verts—those who came to Christ before the “captivity” (i.e., before the destruction ofjerusalem by the Romans) joined the Church solely as a result of a revolution that took place in their spiritual life, while the Jews who turned Christian later on (namely, the great majority of the converts) were not moved to conversion without first being “vexed” by trials and tribula¬ tions.104 Oropesa does not say that they joined Christianity solely to get rid of the troubles that had plagued them, and hence that their conversion was originally false. What he says is that it was due to their extraordinary suffering that they came to consider the meaning of Christianity, and that then they saw the light and were illumined by the faith.105 Does this mean that the hardships of “captivity” were imposed upon thejews not only as punish¬ ment, but to serve God’s aim of rescuing those of them who were predestined to be saved?106 Oropesa’s statements may imply this idea, but only as an allusion to the divine will; there is no indication that he actually supported calculated “vexation” for the sake of conversion. When he urged the separa¬ tion of thejews from the Christians, he seriously believed in the gravity of the threat posed by thejews to the Christian world. Obviously, he presents different considerations stemming from various Christian sources, but some¬ how converging into the same conclusions. But it was not Oropesa who combined these views or channeled them all into a common current. In this, as in other matters, he was clearly following the guidelines of Church policy and thinking, fixed after centuries of subtle speculation on the various aspects of the Jewish problem. What kind of Christian does the Jewish convert make? In discussing this question, Oropesa again echoes Torquemada and Cartagena. “Those who are converted from the Jewish people,” he says, “are more suitable and apt to benefit the Church than those who are converted from the gentiles,” assum¬ ing that thejews and the gentiles involved were converted “authentically on equal terms.”107 This is what the holy Doctors affirm, and especially the commentator Nicholas de Lyra; and the reasons for this are not hard to see. “Sustained by the discipline of the Law and the Prophets... they are more suited for the regimen of the Church and the government of the people of God than those who never had such experience.” One can see this from Peter and Paul, whom de Lyra presents as examples of such converts, and “also from many others, ancient and modern (i.e., Jews “converted in our own time”), who benefited the Church by the examples of their lives, as well as by the doctrines they expounded in their writings.”108 No doubt when

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writing these w ords, Oropesa had in mind such men as Cartagena and Juan de Torquemada. We now come to the practical question that had provoked the entire discussion. How should the converts from Judaism be treated by the rest of the faithful? Oropesa answers unequivocally: precisely as all other Christians are treated. God, he says, congregated the Jews “with the other faithful” in a single body—namely, the Church—“to live under the same laws which apply to the others, to enjoy the same benefits and graces like the others, receive the same rewards, and be castigated by the same penalties.”109 Oropesa takes a leaf from Chrysostom’s writings in clarifying what this implies. He relies on Chrysostom’s general view of the structure of the Church and its supreme ideals. The structure of the Church is based on absolute equality of all its members in their basic rights, and its ideals are unity and brotherhood. Hence, “we should always take care of our brothers, that is, those who came to Christ from Judaism; we should not defame or scorn or molest them; we should not insult them in any form. If by chance they deviate from the right path, we should call them back to it with charity and gentleness, treating them fraternally with great care and perseverance”; and “if any of them sticks stubbornly to his error, he should be chastised peacefully as the law orders, without causing any blemish or infamy to other faithful who happen to belong to the same race.”110 This brings us to the issue of race, which lay at the heart of the stormy conflict between the Old and New Christians. Oropesa’s position on this issue is in line with that of Cartagena and Torquemada, and so are the principal arguments he offers in defense of that position. Considerations of race, Oropesa asserts as forcefully as did his converso predecessors, are opposed to the basic tenets of Christianity, which aims to save all parts of mankind and establish its equality and unity before God. “Those who come to Christ should not be excluded because of an improper class of blood,” he says. “All that has to be proven,” he stresses, “is whether their spirit is of God.”111 Like the converso theologians, he reminds his reader of Paul’s exhortations in this regard, “for no one is excepted as unworthy or prejudiced, or favored in anything before God, for having been born to these or to the others.”112 And in further support of the same idea, he cites Jerome’s letter to Celantia:

It

is not important in what conditions one was born, when all of us are equally to be reborn in Christ. For if we forget that all were born of one, we ought at least to remember that all of us are to be reborn of one."ui It follows that, like all other members of the Church, the Jewish converts should enjoy full equality with all other Christians in matters related to public functions, such as the occupation of offices, dignities and honors, both in the ecclesiastic and civil life of Christendom.

1 his right operates from the

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moment of conversion, except in matters related to Church leadership, which require preparation and experience, but this limitation applies to gentile converts no less than to Jewish ones. Some interpret Paul’s statements about thejews being “first” (both in receiving honor and punishment) as indications that the Jewish convert to Christianity should be treated in a special manner. Oropesa opposes this interpretation. Jewish converts should not be treated preferentially, just as they should not be disparaged. The principle of com¬ plete equality must govern the Church’s conduct toward all converts, Jewish or gentile, in all spheres of life.114 This principle, however, was sorely tested when challenged by the critics of the Marranos in Spain. For these critics did not deny the rule of equal treatment of all members in the Church; they only claimed that of all converts to Christianity, thejewish convert forms an exception to which that rule cannot be applied. Oropesa had to prove their claim wrong if he wished his own to be considered right.

X

What were the arguments of the Marranos’ opponents against the equali¬ zation of the converts from Judaism, and especially against granting them offices and dignities in the government of the Church? Oropesa presents these arguments straightforwardly, as if he were their advocate or proponent, adducing the evidence advanced in their support and making them appear as convincing as possible. Then he turns around to examine them, showing their complete groundlessness and hollowness. We shall have to consider Oropesa’s rebuttal in order to comprehend his thinking and his stand in this crucial controversy. The first reason offered by the foes of the conversos was supposed to be both historical and theological. It was based on the crime of killing Christ, a crime for which thejews assumed responsibility and the punishment for which was extended to their sons (Matt. 27.25). Since the conversos, like the Jews, are the “sons” of those criminals, they too must bear the burden of that guilt, and certainly cannot share with the converts from the gentiles the blessings of Christianity in equal measure. As Oropesa put it, their argument ran like this: “Since the kingdom and the priesthood had been transferred by Christ to the people who received Him faithfully, as the Apocalypse says in Revelations: ‘And with your blood you have brought for God men [i.e., followers] from every race, language, people and nation, and you have made of them a kingdom of priests for our God, they will reign over the earth’115; and also since in the first letter of Peter it is said about the Church of the gentiles: ‘But you are an elected lineage, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people,’116 it follows that they (i.e., the descendants of thejews) were not

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included in that kingdom and priesthood and, needless to say, must be held inept for any office, honor and dignity in it. This is also confirmed by the words of Christ when He praised the faith of the gentile centurion. He said there: ‘Many will come from the east and the west [i.e., from the gentiles] to sit down in the kingdom of Heaven with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, while the children of the kingdom will be cast out of it into utter darkness.’117 The argument implies that the conversos were unworthy not only to hold offices in the Church but also to be its members. In replying to this argument, Oropesa says that it is based on a selected use of sources with the vicious intent to distort their true meaning and misrepre¬ sent their real contents. Oropesa, as we have seen, differed from Cartagena about the Jews’ blame for the Passion; he did not claim, as Cartagena did, that only a fraction of the Jews was responsible in some measure for Jesus’ death, while the overwhelming number of Jews—and hence, the Jewish people as a whole—had no share in it. He adopted the traditional Christian view that “the Jews”—namely, the entire Jewish people—had a major share in Jesus’ crucifixion,118 and therefore the curse which they put upon their children was in full accord with the punishment they took. The punishment was of course decreed by Christ according to His infallible judgment, and it included, as Oropesa had already indicated, dispersion, captivity and endless suffering. But it all related to the Jews qua Jews—i.e., to those who upheld the Jewish faith, rejected Christ and opposed His followers, as well as to their chil¬ dren”—i.e., their descendants who “imitated” their fathers in adhering to their errors. Once, however, a Jew is converted to the faith and joins the Church through Holy Baptism, he “is freed from all the penalties” to which he had been subject, is vested with the freedom and grace of the Church, and is counted, like all its other members, as son and heir of equal standing.119 Thus, if the Passion was the cause of the Jew’s subjugation, Baptism is the cause of his liberation. And Oropesa explains why. Conversion to Christianity, Oropesa says, is far more than a change of religious views or worship. Conversion is a total transformation of the man—a multiple miracle that can be effected not by adopting new views and beliefs, or even a new system of faith, but only by the sacrament of Baptism, in which the power of Christ is revealed. For whoever is baptized is incorpo¬ rated in Christ, and as part of Christ he dies with Him, is buried with Him, and resurrected with Him to reappear as a morally pure person.1-0 This is how the convert from Judaism is cleansed from all his past sins; and this is how he becomes also detached from the crime of the Passion. But is there in all this anything unique to the Jewish convert? Oropesa reminds his reader at this point that the gentile convert is in need of baptism no less than the Jewish, for both “Jews and gentiles are children of wrath” (Ephes. 2. 3-5), and both must be cleansed of all their transgressions before

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they can become true Christians. To prove this, Oropesa finds it enough to mention the following two matters: first, all gentiles, no less than the Jews, are guilty of Original Sin, and second, no less than the Jews were they involved in Christ’s crucifixion. And here, in discussing the gentiles’ share in the Passion, Oropesa not only approaches Cartagena; he surpasses him in stressing the gentile responsibility for the Passion in all its stages. To begin with, he points out, the conspiracy to kill Jesus was never a strictlyjewish alfair: “For in this city [i.e., Jerusalem] both Herod and Pilate, the gentiles and thejews, allied themselves against Jesus.”121 Then, Jews and gentiles vied with each other in inflicting suffering upon the Son of God in all phases of the Crucifixion. Thus thejews, after having sentenced him to death, “spat in his face and struck Him with their fists,” while others said, as they were beating Him, “Now, Messiah, if you are a prophet, tell us who hit you” (Matt. 67).122 But the gentiles treated Him in a similar manner. For after having been sentenced to death, He was flogged, on Pilate’s orders, by the soldiers, who also crowned Him with a crown of thorns. Then, like thejews, the gentiles mocked Jesus, spat at him, and struck him on His head. Finally, it was they—i.e., the gentiles—who put Him to death on the cross.123 “And thus,” says Oropesa, “in His holy crucifixion were all equally present, both thejews and the gentiles, and these and the others, in one form and another, committed all the evil they could perpetrate against him. This may be gathered from all the Gospels, and the lesson implied in all this is that, just as He had suffered to save the whole world ..., so He took that suffering from all mankind [i.e., from both Jews and gentiles], and finally was crucified, as it had been prophesied: The Kings of the earth [i.e., of the Gentiles] stand up, And the rulers [i.e., of the yews] conspire Against the Lord and against His anointed.”124 In this portrayal of the criminal part which the gentiles played in the Passion, we can note the strong influence of Cartagena. But Oropesa has more to say on this matter. He extended the charge of gentile criminality from attacks upon Jesus to assaults upon his followers. Accordingly, he rejects as false the claim that thejews were the main, or most violent persecutors of the early Christians. Not thejews alone, he says, but “Jews and gentiles sinned in the cruel persecution of the martyrs,” and not only were the gentiles partners in these crimes; they also persevered in them much longer than thejews. The persecution of the Christians by the pagans in the Roman world lasted almost four hundred years, and much may be read about this in Augustine; and today the gentiles (the Saracens and the Turks) do battle against the Church, invade its lands and violate its Holy Places. In fact, the gentiles’ attacks upon Christianity were more violent and ferocious, and no

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less frequent than those of thejews; for both groups hate the Church and seek to hurt it, and both will continue their harassment of Christendom, in a variety of forms, until the end of the world.125 In view of this history of persecution of Christianity, in which the gentiles were involved no less than thejews, it is of course absurd to describe the gentile world as just and, in contrast, the society of the Jews as cruel. Similarly it is grotesque to claim, as some Christians do, that Christ built His Church exclusively with the gentiles, while he expelled all Jews from it as incorrigible sinners. Actually, Jesus built His Church on the foundation of the yews, not of the gentiles, and following His Passion it wasjewish apostles who became “instruments of the election and the honor of the Church. U6 When Jesus said that many will come from the East and the West to the Kingdom of Heaven, while the sons of the kingdom will be ousted into the dark, he indeed referred by the former to gentiles and by the latter to Jews. But by these Jews we should not understand all the sons of the Kingdom of God, but only those who were “bad” or “abominable7 to God because they re¬ mained in the darkness of their blindness; while those who emerged from that darkness—who at any time recognized the Son of God—were not excluded from the Kingdom. Similarly, it is clear that when Peter said: “You are an elected lineage, a royal priesthood, etc.,” he did not refer only to the con¬ verted gentiles, but to all the members of the Church of God, which meant: the followers of Christ from both peoples. Likewise, the famous statement in Revelations (5.9): “With your blood you have purchased for God men from every race, etc.,” rather than confirming, clearly denies the contentions of the conversos’ enemies. Obviously, that verse did not refer to converts from the gentiles only; for he who says “every’ does not exclude anyone, Jew or gentile.127 Thus has Oropesa confuted the argument against converso equality in Christendom which was based primarily on the Passion of Christ, the crime of the Crucifixion and the self-imposed curse of thejews. The confutation seems clear and convincing; and yet one cannot help asking: If the gentiles sinned no less than thejews in the Crucifixion and Passion of Christ, why were they not punished like thejews? Why were thejews alone singled out for that perpetual captivity and horrible suffering which befell no other nation on earth? Oropesa’s answer is based on his conclusions concerning the Jews’ special inclination to vice and their particular attraction to the Devil. It was their “abominable iniquity,” as Oropesa put it, that led them to reject Christ, and it was because of that rejection, which was more total and determined than that of all other nations, that they were punished as they were.128 But to this was added another consideration that cannot be ignored. Thejews alone of all the peoples of the world were benefited by God in a special manner; it was on them that He showered all His gifts and blessings;

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and it was they alone who showed Him that “ingratitude” which typifies the most malicious of men. Therefore, their denial of Christ had a far more sinister character and, consequently, brought upon them alone that unparal¬ leled disaster. God, who built them up as His people, ceased to tolerate them as He did; He punished them with His counter-rejection (“You are not my People,” as Hosea said) and all the ensuing results.129

XI

If the first objection to converso equalization was based, according to Oropesa, on misinterpretations of certain statements in the New Testament, the second was founded, in his opinion, on inferences drawn wrongly from certain verses in the Old Testament. The verses in question are those of Deuteronomy, which prohibit the equalization of some gentiles with the Jews.130 And the argument built on them against Marrano equalization ran more or less as follows: The Jews “viewed the gentiles who accepted their faith as outsiders and aliens” to their people; and “however sincere their conversion” to Judaism, the Jews did not admit them to their offices and dignities—at least, not on conditions of parity; for they either denied them such admission forever, as was the case with the Ammonites and Moabites, or accepted them only in the third generation, as was the case with the Idumeans and Egyptians. In the same manner, the argument continued, the Christians should now treat the Jews, so that “never, or very late, or with great difficulties, may they admit the Jewish convert to Christianity to offices and honors within the People of God.”131 Moreover, such treatment is fully supported not only by Scripture but by the current facts. For the Jews of today are more disagreeable to God than the gentiles were in ancient times, whereas on the other hand, the Christians of our time are far more agreeable to Him, and more united with Him, than thejews were in those days ”132 And “if the amity and union of the Jewish people with God dictated harsh treatment of the gentiles (because of their past incredulity and errors), even when they wished to be converted to His faith, all the more so should the Christians treat harshly thejews who wish to receive the faith of Christ.”133 The gist of this argument against converso equalization is already found, as we have seen, in Garcia’s Memorial,134 even though the reasons advanced by Garda were different from those offered by his partisans ten or fifteen years later. In any case, his claim that the Law ordered thejews to discrimi¬ nate against converts to their faith, or rather against all their converts from the gentiles, was manifestly false and could easily be confuted; but since no refutation, as it seems, was offered, it gained wide currency before long. Not only did the Marrano-baiters use it, but even a converso like Fernando de Pulgar accepted it as self-evident.135 Oropesa was determined to expose the

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falsehood, but his attempt to do so was based, as we shall see, not on purely exegetical reasons, but rather on theological arguments, which dictated quite a different explanation of the biblical intent. Oropesa shows that the particular laws on which the adversaries of the conversos rely belong precisely to the kind of laws that Christianity came to abolish, for they clearly indicate the imperfection of the Law to which the Jews were subject in those times. The Law was imperfect because the people it governed were incapable of following higher directives which treat with equality all human beings. Since the Law was given only to the Jews, the latter, says Oropesa, “arrogantly and contemptuously abhorred all other peoples.” And not only did they thus offend those peoples while the latter were in their gentilehood; they also rebuffed and looked down upon them after they had been converted to Judaism. It was in opposition to that negative treatment—and in a clear attempt to improve their behavior

that

the Law ordered the Jews to stop abhorring some nations (such as the Idumeans and the Egyptians) and accept them as equals, at least in the third generation, while in consideration of the Jews crude nature, it permitted them to practice that discrimination indefinitely toward proselytes from other peoples. This, however, is Judaism; this is not Christianity. And it is precisely for such types of imperfection that the Old Law was abolished and the New proclaimed.136 Hence, concludes Oropesa, when the critics of the conversos seek to apply the same Jewish treatment to converts from Judaism to Christianity, they are actually reverting to an old evil, which the Old Law wished to limit as much as possible and Christianity had totally done away with. Indeed, in following such a course, these people, who pride themselves on fightingjudaization, are actually doing the very thing they pretend to avoid. For by adopting the above-mentioned principle they are Judaizing, and not even in accord with the intent of the Old Law, but in accord with the practices of the ancient Jews, which the Old Law sought to correct.137 A modern lay scholar may question of course Oropesa’s historical premises, but one can hardly question his deductions. Indeed, by the standards of medieval thinking, his rebuttal appears irrefutable. In his effort to examine the theoretical foundations of the anti-Marrano faction, Oropesa presents also a third argument employed against converso equalization. It is based on two separate passages in Deuteronomy which Christian theology and exegesis combined by relating them both to Jesus Christ. The first passage, included in Deuteronomy 18, presents the promise God gave the Jewish people to raise up a prophet from among their brethren who would be “like myself’ and “speak in my name.” This promise is followed by a stern warning that the Jews would have to “listen” to that prophet, for otherwise God would “require it of them.”138 As is obvious from

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the very content of this statement, and also as confirmed by the New Testa¬ ment,139 the God-like prophet of whom that passage spoke was none other than Jesus Christ; and since the Jews did not “listen” to Him—nay, even despised Him and delivered Him to death—they were evidently subject to all the castigations indicated by the maledictions of Deuteronomy 28. One of these maledictions, which, according to the Marrano-baiters, carries a mes¬ sage with respect to the converts, is included in the following verses: The alien who lives with you Will rise higher and higher, And you will sink lower and lower, He will lend you, and you will not lend him, He will be the head, and you will be the tail. (Deut. 28.43-44) This means that the Jews who, before Christ’s advent, were religiously “above” the “aliens”—i.e., the gentiles—would now become inferior to them. They would be dominated by the gentiles who would “live with them”—i.e., by members of the same Church. And thus, in consequence of their crime against Christ, they should not be allowed to assume positions of authority over any other Christians.140 In reply to these assertions Oropesa seeks to show that the whole argument has neither rhyme nor reason. The harsh servitude which the Jews were to endure in punishment for their share in Christ’s crucifixion was to last only as long as they were Jews—that is, followers of their old infidelity. But once they were converted to the faith of the Holy Church and entered it through the sacred baptism, they are freed of all the “penalties of Judaism” and clothed with the liberty and grace of Christianity. They are “counted among all other Christians as sons of the Church and heirs of its possessions.”141 The above-cited verses of Deuteronomy, therefore, could in no way refer to the conversos. There was also a fourth argument that the Marrano haters used against New Christian equalization. It was based on the firm prohibition of the Apostle against appointing neophytes as bishops and on the reasons he gave for that prohibition: lest they be “lifted up with pride and fall into the condemnation of the devil.”142 By these “neophytes” (i.e., new believers), they said, the Apostle could mean only converts from Judaism, for the gentiles came to Christ quickly in large numbers, and also accepted Him with great devotion, while the Jews, who persisted in the blindness of their fathers, came to Him in small numbers and much later (this is why they were considered “new”); nor did they show the same devotion to the faith as did the converts from gentilehood. Naturally, the Apostle considered it improper for them to be put above the gentile converts.143

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Oropesa devoted to the argument concerning neophytes one of the longest chapters in his book. He evidently considered the refutation of that argument of vital importance for winning the case against the Marranos’ detractors. Like the converso apologists, he must have believed that as long as the conversos were distinguished from all other Christians by their very title (i.e., New Christians), and as long as that title was commonly identified with the “neophytes” of the Apostle, little could be done to defeat the opposition and heal the widening breach. Stopping the usage of that title, therefore, was to Oropesa an essential prerequisite for New-Old Christian reconciliation. Oropesa apparently considered it possible to contribute materially toward this purpose by dispelling the confusion that reigned about the origin, mean¬ ing and application of the term “neophyte.” The claim of the opposition was, as we have seen, that by “neophytes” the Apostle meant converts from Judaism, and that it was only to such converts that he forbade the assumption of high offices in the Church. But this whole claim, Oropesa insisted, was based on ignorance and misunderstanding. It is true that the Apostle, in his letter to Timothy, did not mean by “neophytes” converts of all origins, but of a certain origin only, except that the converts he signified by that term were not those indicated by the Marranos’ critics. For the Apostle was against ordaining as bishops only those who were newly converted from the gentiles, but was not against appointing to that office anyone newly converted from the Jews. Indeed, those familiar with the history of Christianity know that, in that early period of the faith, the term “neophyte was not applied to Jews who turned Christians, but to new converts from the gentiles.144 This is how the Apostle’s use of “neophyte” was understood by Saints Chrysostom and Ambrosius, and this is how it was understood by canon law.14 Yet this is not the only consideration that makes a travesty of the detractors claim, for if they insist that the Apostle’s instruction was not given, as it was, in a specific situation, but was meant to be eternal in all its parts, they obviously must conclude that his prohibition on appointing bishops applies to this day to all gentile converts—and to them alone.146 The claim that the Apostle meant by “neophytes” new converts, and only such who came from gentilehood, was so firmly based in Christian theology that Oropesa considered it indisputable. It implied a reductio ad absurdum of the argument of the opposition and rendered irrelevant all the reasons and “proofs” that it tried to marshall in its support. The same claim, as we have seen, was already made by the Relator,147 and likewise it implied the same reductio. But this in itself did not answer the question of why xhe Apostle excluded Jewish converts from the category of the “neophytes.” Oropesa of course had to answer this question, as did, in fact, his famous predecessor, but his answer, as we shall see, differed fundamentally from that of the Relator. According to the Relator, thejews who came to Christ were not regarded

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by the Apostle as neophytes (or new converts) for the simple reason that they were not converts to begin with. When they became Christians, or believers in Christ, they did not pass from one religion to another (as was the case with the gentile converts) but remained in the same religion (or, as he put it, “in the same house”), except that now they understood far better what their own religion meant. Essentially, this was also the Relator’s view of the converts from Judaism in later times—that is, following the time of the Apostle. Accordingly, he maintained that Jews who became Christians also in later generations (including his own), or were to become Christians at any time in the future, ought not to be designated as conversos (converts) any more than they ought to be considered New Christians—which is a reminder of “neophytes.”148 But this was not at all the view of Oropesa. As he saw it, it was only in the period of the Primitive Church that the Apostle did not designate as neophytes the newcomers to Christ from among the Jews, for then the Gospel was not yet fully published and the Old Law was not yet abolished. For as long as the Law was not clearly disproved, it was still considered, as it had been, approved; and therefore the Jews did not have to abandon it when they recognized Christ to the extent they did. This, however, was not the case of the gentiles, who before they came to Christ had no approved faith and had to abandon all their beliefs, their forms of worship and their way of life. Since they “lived without God, without converse with Israel, and without any hope of the Promise,” they came to God as “guests and strangers,” as converts in the full sense of the word; therefore they were rightly called neophytes (i.e., new believers). Yet this distinction between the two kinds of converts (from gentilehood andjudaism) could last only until the Gospel was published. For once its contents became fully known, and the borders between the faiths were clearly drawn, no one could excuse himself by ignorance of Christian¬ ity, which called for the cessation of all Jewish worship and the total abolition of the Old Law. Consequently, the Jews who remained in their Judaism following the period of the Primitive Church, and later joined Christ when their eyes were opened, must be regarded, no less than the gentiles, as converts to the faith from an infidelity, and their newly converted must be viewed as neophytes, as are the new converts from the gentiles.149 One can readily note the root of the difference between the view of Oropesa and that of the Relator. While for Fernan Dfazjudaism and Chris¬ tianity were essentially the same religion, for Oropesa Christianity was essentially another religion—to be sure, not different in everything but dif¬ ferent enough to d'cwyJudaism, prohibit its practice, and come in its stead. His sharp distinction between the Old and the New Law did not allow him to combine both religions in the manner we find them combined by the Relator, although his distinction between the two religious eras—i.e., of the \\ ritten

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Law and the Law of Grace—permitted him to consider a short period of transformation in which thejews—who adhered to the Written Law—could uphold it together with the Law of Grace. The difference of opinion we notice at this point between the views of Oropesa and the Relator illustrates the cleavage that developed in Spain between the traditional Christian view and the view of the conversos concerning the true, fundamental relationship between the two religions. But beyond this point, Oropesa’s argument approached, or even merged with that of the conversos. Like Cartagena, he stressed the brevity of the period in which any convert may be considered a neophyte.150 Similarly, he stressed that even in this period the convert is entitled to any office or benefice, except the prelacy and the priesthood. Likewise, he argued that these rights and limitations applied equally to all neophytes of whatever origin throughout the period of their neophytism. Since following that period all converts were equal, there was obviously no reason for any differentiation between “Old” and “New” Christians.

XII

It is noteworthy that all the above four arguments which, according to Oropesa, were used by the detractors and, moreover, formed the basis of their stand, are not to be found in the polemical literature written on the subject in 1449-1450. Both in the public debate of those years and in the positions rebutted by Oropesa, the Bible was claimed by the anti-conversos as the main foundation upon which they relied, but most of the biblical authorities they cited in the early stages of the controversy are not even mentioned by Oropesa, which shows that they stopped referring to them, and on the rare occasions when they used those authorities, they did not draw from them the same conclusions. Apparently, in the fourteen years since the start of that debate, the opposi¬ tion had abandoned some of its old arguments under the impact of converso criticism, and especially relinquished the biblical “proofs” that had spear¬ headed its first attacks. Thus, we see Oropesa grapple with new evidence, new reasons and new lines of demonstration; and it is, in tact, thanks to his detailed summaries of the arguments he found necessary to confute that we can see the development of the opposition s thinking and its stand in the middle of the sixties. What is evident above all is that, while the foes of the conversos forsook most biblical foundations of their claims, they stubbornly adhered to the claims themselves. The core of these claims, as Oropesa put it, was that “those who came to the faith from the circumcision should be denied equality of rights with the faithful, because of their bad works, because their hearts are not

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with Christ, and because they are always inclined toward evil and all the things which it is proper to object to.”151 Here we have in a nutshell the three main reasons—the moral, the religious and the racial—which the anti-conversos incessantly brought forth. In 1464 they were essentially the same as they were in 1449. Oropesa’s opinion of the anti-Marrano accusations is stated in clear and forceful language. He brands them repeatedly as false and malicious, and as calumnies that must be denounced.152 If we add to these denunciations Oropesa’s statements on the New Christians, we shall get a clear notion of his stand on the conflict between the two groups. What is Oropesa’s view of the conversos? Judging by the various assess¬ ments he made of both the converso masses and leadership, it is clear that he considered the conversos true Christians who were devoted to the faith and wished to promote it. He considered them full-fledged "brethren in faith"153 no less than the other members of the Church, and designated them with the honorific titles of “co-inheritors and co-citizens of the Apostles and the Prophets” and “sons of promise and peace.”154 Thus, in referring to the converts, he says: “We have seen—and see—in our own time many who were converted from among the Jews live righ¬ teously and walk in the faith of Christ, and some of them are bishops and prelates and serve very well the Church of God in its regimen and govern¬ ment.”155 But besides the converso prelates, whose number was necessarily limited, there were other conversos who gained great influence in the Church due to their moral and scholarly attainments. Of these Oropesa says: “What experience has taught us is that many of the Jewish race who were converted to the faith in our regions have become in a short time great doctors on a grand scale and also outstanding in the customs of their lives,”156 Both his general portrayal of these converts and the adjective “many” which he applies to them repeatedly (in fact, both to their masses and their spiritual leaders) indicate that he considered the group as a whole rooted in Christian¬ ity and integrated in the Church. Never does he use the adjective “many” when he refers to the backsliders among the conversos. Here he uses always the term “some.”157 That these “some” were a small minority that could not change materially the character of the group is evident not only from his view of the conversos as reflected in the above-cited statements, but also from his various remarks on the “deviators,” whose presence in the group he did not ignore. He says: “There have always been and always will be among the converts from Judaism ‘good’ and ‘bad’ Christians, just as there are—and will be—‘good’ and ‘bad’ Christians among the other faithful who have come to the Church from all parts of mankind and in all times.”158 This equalization of the general condition of faithfulness and unfaithfulness among the conversos with that

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obtaining among the other Christian groups shows that Oropesa did not see in deviation from Christianity among the conversos a phenomenon that called for special concern or for extraordinary treatment. He sees no neces¬ sity, and no justification, for issuing special laws for the conversos as a group, as was done in Toledo in the seventh century. When such legislation was enacted in Spain, it came to meet an emergency; for then it was found that the converts from Judaism included many feigned Christians, and there was need to take extreme measures in order to check the spreading heresy.159 The tenor of the argument clearly shows that Oropesa saw no such need in his own time; he saw no similarity between the religious condition of most oi the conversos in his generation and that of the converts in the Spanish kingdom in the period of the Toledan councils. Obviously, when Oropesa speaks of“bad Christians he does not necessar¬ ily refer to Judaizers. “Bad Christians,” as he indicated, were found among the Old Christians (and these “bad” ones were clearly not Judaizers), and we may assume that “bad Christians” other than Judaizers were found, in his opinion, among the conversos, too. But he readily acknowledged the exis¬ tence ofjudaizers and discussed them in several places of his book.160 He saw most of them as deficient either in the understanding of the faith or in the fulfillment of its instructions. Yet Christians who have such a view of a convert should not approach him in a hostile spirit. They should

admonish and

support him, and induce and help him ... to believe rightly and behave correctly.” But they should avoid “discussions” that might lead the convert to believe that they consider him “guilty of hidden things.” In saying all this, Oropesa relies on the Apostle in Romans 14-1 and the comments on that verse by the Ordinary Gloss. “It is not for us,” he says in the words of the Gloss, “to condemn him whose thought is not evident, or whom we do not know what he will be later on.” In brief, we should accept, not reject him, and allow him to “enjoy all the privileges of the Christians.” Of course, when “convicted” of some crime or error, he should be

corrected and chastised canonically,

but even then “we must refrain from all rancor and defamation against both the one who ought to be chastised and the other faithful members of his race.”161 This is of course not the kind of treatment that could suit convinced, stubborn heretics who were actually carrying the message of their heresy to the ranks of the faithful. And this is not, in fact, how Oropesa proposed to deal with heretics and schismatics. The lesson of his above-cited counsels, there¬ fore, cannot be mistaken: just as he did not consider thejudaizers a real force in a quantitative sense, he did not consider them a threat from a qualitative point of view. Evidently, he regarded most of thejudaizers not as die-hard adherents of Judaism but as feeble believers in Christianity who may be inspired by proper instruction to become true followers of Christ. In any

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case, he saw the main problem they posed not in their own disbelief and misconduct, but rather in the excuse they supplied the Marrano-baiters for their anti-converso campaign. Indeed, it was to the presence of the Judaizers that he attributed the main slogans of that campaign—namely, that the conversos are a group of “apostates, feigned Christians and secret Jews.”162 Oropesa treats this accusation as outrageous, as “imputing the false under the appearance of truth.”163 In fact, he presents it as the very opposite of the truth, and in every respect as a crime befitting Judas. For these agitators against the conversos, he says, “did not sin out of weakness or ignorance”; they knew the truth. But like Judas they sought and found “the opportunity of substituting without evidence truth with lie and virtue with transgression.”164

XIII

The focus of our attention has thus shifted from the conversos to their die-hard Old Christian adversaries, whose attitudes and activities against the Marranos pose difficult problems. If the conversos were, rather than mis¬ creants, faithful followers of Christ and his teachings, and their portrayal as “heretics, feigned Christians and crypto-Jews” was not just a product of ignorance and prejudice, but a vicious lie deliberately concocted with the aim of replacing truth with falsehood, it is obvious that no religious motive was behind the anti-Marrano campaign. But if so, we must ask: What was the real motive? What turned the wheels of the anti-Marrano movement? Like Cartagena, Torquemada and the Relator, Oropesa stressed that the troubles arose from the jealousy of the conversos felt by some evil Old Christians. This jealousy produced an implacable hatred that led to a terrible campaign of libels, which in turn gave birth to extreme violence, expressed in robbery, torture and bloodshed. But, adds Oropesa, all these evil actions did not stem only from rancor and ill will.165 They were also propelled by certain wishes and ambitions that lurked in the hearts of the conversos enemies. In Oropesa’s words, “these men are moved by the anxiety of avarice, or by vainglory, or, which is certain, by their actual interests.”166 What they really want is by no means limited to the expulsion of the conversos from their positions; what they want is to take over these positions in order to enjoy the benefits they yield. These are the beasts in Ezekiel’s prophecy (34.17-29) that do not merely wish to drive away God’s flock from the green pastures in which they feed, but also to seize the whole pastureland and occupy it solely for their own use. In brief, what these people seek is plainly the usurpation of all the goods of the Church for themselves.167 This accusation of the conversos’ foes matches in severity the criticisms which the Relator, Torquemada and Montalvo had hurled against them some twelve years before. But other censures and charges of Oropesa appear even

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more extreme. Touching upon the various “legal” measures which the antiMarranos took and proposed, he says that to justify them, they amassed arguments allegedly based on law.168 Oropesa did his utmost to demonstrate the falsehood, groundlessness, or absurdity of these arguments. But he did all this, he said, without hoping to convince the stubborn opponents. Since the latter know the truth and knowingly defy it, they will always circumvent any demonstration in order to reassert their mendacities. “You may vanquish or silence them,” says Oropesa, “but you will never move them to confess their error,” or even correct their wrong assertions. In vain may one point to canon law or to Catholic dogma, or even to the Holy Gospels themselves, in an attempt to show them that they are in the wrong. You may prove, for instance, by evidence as clear as daylight that the neophytes referred to by the apostle Paul were not converts from the Jews but from the gentiles; they will continue to shout and assert as they have done: “All those converted from Judaism to Christianity are those whom the Apostle designated as neophytes; to this category they should always belong, and as such they are subject to the decree of the Apostle, who forbade their being ordained to the Church.”169 How to treat these enemies of truth, who so impudently reject any holy authority, any definite proof and any demonstrated claim? Oropesa offers concrete measures. To begin with, he says, agitation must be stopped by Church orders.

They must be silenced!170 Their For as long as these ferocious

beasts continue their campaign within the Church, it will be impossible to have peace, or end the quarrels, and stop the contentions” that arose within it. “Nor will there cease the jealousies and rivalries and the oppression of the simpleminded, the small and powerless”; nor will there disappear the danger¬ ous errors which they disseminate in the ranks of the faithful

the errors

which “disrupt the unity of the Church and destroy the charity of its believers.”171 But Oropesa is not satisfied with a preemptory prohibition of the detrac¬ tors’ agitation. As long as they command authority in the Church, he says, they will always find ways to cause further damage, even if their campaign is formally suppressed. Therefore, he proposed to do to them what they wished to do to the conversos. They “must be thrown out of the pastures of the Church,” and by this he means first of all Church offices and benefices held by these “bad men.” These assets and positions “must be distributed to humble people . . . without showing any favor to persons . . . and with¬ out preference for any nation or race.” But “those corrupted by the blight of envy and inflated by the wind of ambition should not be permitted to attain offices and benefices of pastorship or government of any sort, since they are thieves and robbers and also pestilent beasts that Christ expelled and removed from his flock.”172

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The last words indicate the ultimate measure that Oropesa had in mind. What he considered essential for the peace of the Church was to excommu¬ nicate the maligners of the Marranos and the advocates of their degradation. In this, too, he urged to do to them what the latter sought to do to the conversos—i.e., to oust them from Christian society. He proposed to ban any contact with them and anathematize them as heretics and schismatics who threaten the Church’s very existence. And in accord with St. Chrysostom’s counsel and exhortations, Oropesa says without mincing words: We have to destroy these pestiferous beasts and cut off their heads, because only then will those who dwell in the prairies of the Christian faith and the woodlands of its ministries sleep in security. For only then will calm down the riots, will end the oppressions, will disappear the errors, the rugged shall be made level and the rough shall become plain.173

XIV

According to Sigiienza, Oropesa found “much fault” with both the Old and New Christians; and summarizing Oropesa’s view on both groups, he says: “These (unos) [i.e., the Old Christians] sinned as impudent, reckless and villainous; the others (otros) [i.e., the New Christians] sinned as malicious and inconstant in the faith. The latter suffered not without fault, and the others deserved grave punishment for their insolence and also for their ambition.”174 Sigiienza, as we can see, sought to find an equilibrium between the blame Oropesa ascribed to the conversos and that which he attributed to the Old Christians. We find no such equilibrium in Oropesa. Perhaps Sigiienza, who feared the censure of the Inquisition, did not wish to portray the great leader of his order as an ardent defender of the New Christians and as a harsh critic of their detractors; but this is precisely what Oropesa was. No other opinion can be formed about him when we carefully consider the contents of his book and the record of his involvement.175 While giving us a wrong impression of the contents and general thrust of Oropesa’s argument, Sigiienza was careful in choosing his words. As we have noticed, he spoke of the New Christians in the same terms that he used for the Old ones (“unos” and “otros”), imputing much guilt to each group as a whole. Menendez y Pelayo, who had not read the Lumen, accepted unquestioningly Sigiienza’s judgments. Following the statement of the Hieronymite historian, he says that Oropesa’s conclusion was this: “The Old Christians (generally!) sinned as impudent, reckless and villainous, and the New Chris¬ tians (again, generally!) as malicious and inconstant in the faith.”176 But never did Oropesa accuse any of these bodies, taken as a whole, of any of the aforesaid attitudes.

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Nor do we find in the Lumen a confirmation of all the defects which, according to Sigiienza, Oropesa found in the groups he criticized. It is true that he considered the Marrano-baiters “audacious,” “reckless” and “villain¬ ous” (in fact, he described them in much more acrid terms), but nowhere did he define the faulty conversos as “malicious” and “inconstant in the faith.’ The latter term especially suggested heresy, steady backsliding and religious betrayal. But this is not at all how Oropesa judged at least most of the deviants among the conversos. Thus, that whole presentation by Sigiienza was both erroneous and mis¬ leading. It suited those who sought to justify the Inquisition on the grounds of an allegedly existent heresy (a widespread Judaic movement that em¬ braced most New Christians), but it did not fit the general view which Oropesa had of the assailed group. For Oropesa considered the conversos as a whole good and honest Christians, and he judged the accusations leveled against them to be calumnies and lies. Explicitly he says that his book was written to remove “the opprobrium and affront” from the conversos (our “faithful who came from Judaism to Christ”),177 just as he says explicitly that he wrote it against their detractors and accusers.178 This then was by no means a “neutral” study, a middle-of-the-road work that sought to strike a balance between two opposing sides; it was clearly a strong defense of the conversos and a furious attack upon their critics. It should be recalled that Oropesa wrote these words after having served for a year as inquisitor in Toledo. And thus both his favorable view of the conversos and his sharp censures of their opponents assume the value of first-rate evidence based on personal observation, direct contact and intimate knowledge, and not on the common views and assessments offered by public opinion. Oropesa, Sigiienza tells us, had made a “diligent inquiry” into all the accusations brought to his attention, and he “left the city settled and quiet, after having “chastised the guilty as required.”179 But Oropesa himself would not be that positive in evaluating his achievement. He realized that the peace he attained was a truce, and he did not believe in its durability. As he himself wrote at the conclusion of his work, there could be no peace as long as the bad men, the ambitious self-seekers and the deniers of truth continue to operate in Old Christian society. Sooner or later they will find an excuse to break the peace and resume their attacks upon their hated New Christian neighbors (in fact, it took only one and a half years for this prognosis to come true). He had also no doubt that they would attack him, too, as fiercely and viciously as they possibly could, when his book made its way to the public. For aware of the nature of the opponents he confronted, he did not delude himself for a moment that his proofs and arguments would make any dent in their views and attitudes, or change their methods of warfare. On the contrary, he was sure that, in assailing his work, they would not spare any lie,

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libel and falsehood that might undermine its influence. To forestall or limit their expected revilements, he first made it clear that he was no Jew. Since advocates of the conversos were usually accused of having Jewish blood in their veins, or, at least, some converso relatives, Oropesa found it necessary to stress that he had no blood relationship with conversos (“for 1 think that, ever since Noah, our races were so separated that never was there an occasion for anyone who knew me to suspect me in this respect”).180 Second, he appealed to the archbishop of Toledo to “free me from the calumnies of the people, and defend, if it be necessary, with your noble and great authority this work, the product of so much labor, done with sincere intention” and “completed” at the archbishop’s “order.”181 But, above all, to protect his integrity against the slanderers and defamers, he worked out the plan of the book as we see it and wrote it the way he did. This, we believe, puts us in a position in which we can answer the rather puzzling question that was raised in the course of this survey: Why did Oropesa write his large-scale introduction, which dealt primarily with the Jewish people? He wrote it, as we see it, not in imitation of but in opposition to the converso apologies. Torquemada and Cartagena thought that the converso issue could not be judged apart from the Jewish problem, and in consequence of this, their defense of the conversos was somehow connected with a defense of the Jews. Oropesa believed that this was a mistake; it was wrong theologically and harmful tactically. To the extent the converso case should be related to the Jews, it should be presented, he thought, not as its extension, but as its direct antithesis. In brief, to Oropesa’s thinking, Cartagena’s approach—and, for that mat¬ ter, the approach of Torquemada—was too Jewish (in the ethnic sense), too Judaic (in the religious sense), and too tribal (in the nationalistic sense). His own approach, in contrast, was anti-Jewish, anti-Judaic and fundamentally anti-nationalistic—or, more precisely, it was universalistic. It seemed vital to Oropesa that at that point, when he came to express his view of the conver¬ sos—which was, as we have seen, strongly /?ro-converso—he should make it absolutely clear that he was no Jew lover, that he felt no sympathy for Judaism and the Jewish people, and that his position on the conversos was dictated strictly by the study of the facts, the laws and the teachings of traditional Christianity—the same Christianity which he likewise followed in his determined, unreserved opposition tojudaism and severe denunciation of the Jewish people.

CHAPTER

III

The Chroniclers ofEnrique IV

U

I. DIEGO DE VALERA

nlike the cronicas of Juan II, those dealing with the period ofEnrique IV and the succeeding years up to c. 1485 were not subject to that

pro-Marrano revision which sought to ignore the existence ol a Marrano question, and even to suppress all mention of the Marranos.1 Responsible for the latter works were their authors alone, and this, together with the chang¬ ing circumstances, made the conversos and their problem a recurrent theme in the cronicas of the second half of the fifteenth century. Of the various chronicles ofEnrique IV’s reign, we shall deal here only with those of Diego de Valera, Fernando de Pulgar, and Alonso de Palencia. Of the other three chroniclers who wrote on that period, Rodrigo Sanchez de Arevalo does not mention the conversos at all, while Enriquez del Castillo refers to them twice—once in a positive vein (in censuring Espina) and once in a negative one (when he defines the conversos travails in 1473 as a divine punishment for their religious sins). Only Pedro de Escavias adds something new to our knowledge of the converso situation. In discussing the assaults on the conversos in Andalusia in 1473, he says that the nobles in several places risked their lives in resisting the attackers and that the attacks were con¬ ducted everywhere under the slogan that the conversos were heretics and deicides. Escavias, who refused to endorse that slogan, marveled at the hatred, the insolence and the fury displayed by the lower classes toward the conversos, and in light of their sack of the converso borough in Cordova and their behavior in other places, he concluded that what moved these people was “more avidity to rob than zeal for the service of God.”All the latter three chroniclers wrote in pre-Inquisitional times, and in this 897

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they differed from the other historians to whom we shall now turn our attention. Thus, Valera wrote his Cronica of Enrique IV, known as Memorial de diversas Hazanas, in i486—that is, under the watchful eyes of the Inquisi¬ tion. In this work he sought to clear the conversos of the charge of religious depravity, but he wished to do it in a manner that would not lay him open to unanswerable inquisitional questions. In describing the conversos, there¬ fore, he used statements and phrases found in earlier sources, so that he might claim that his work was a product of a purely scholarly inquiry. It would obviously be a poor excuse as he could be accused of deliberately selecting almost exclusively pro-converso materials. But this was the only defense he could think of under the circumstances, without compromising his task as historian or betraying his conscience. In his Memorial Valera relied largely on Palencia’s Decadas and the Cronica Castellana, which is a vulgarized abbreviation of Palencia’s work, and as such his Memorial may be regarded as devoid of real historical value. However, as a contemporary of Enrique IV familiar with the events of his time, and as an acute political observer, he shows by his remarks on the conversos in his Memorial, and by the materials of Palencia that he accepted and rejected, his stand on the converso issue. Furthermore, since this stand was opposed to prevalent anti-converso attitudes and, above all, to the inquisitional position, we must regard it as reflecting his own thinking and, more likely, as an expression of the views to which he had adhered during the events in question. Valera ignores the anti-converso riots in Carmona, 1462 (probably because Palencia’s description of these riots was too critical of the Old Christians), and the anti-converso outbreak in Toledo, 1467 (probably because Palencia is here too critical of the New Christians). He repeats, however, Palencia’s tale of King Alfonso’s rejection of the petition addressed to him by the Toledans to authorize their possession of the goods and offices they took from the conversos in the recent riots, defining the petitioners as malvados robadores (evildoing robbers).3 Similarly, he presents the outbreak in Cordova in the wake of Palencia’s account, but completely ignores Palencia’s remarks about the Judaic practices of the conversos, which that chronicler presented as the chief cause of the outbreak. In Valera’s opinion, the riots were pro¬ voked by the “great wealth of the Cordovan conversos that enabled them to buy public offices,” and by the “arrogant” use of these offices by the conver¬ sos, which “the Old Christians could not tolerate.”4 Thus the causes of the Cordovan disturbances were, according to Valera, social and political; the religious aspect has completely disappeared. He follows Palencia also in describing the attacks on the conversos in the other Andalusian cities, the assassination of Miguel Lucas injaen, and the ensuing pogrom on the conversos of that city. He weakens Palencia s criti-

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cism of the pogromists by attributing to them “a madness of cruelty” rather than a “mad thirst for blood,” as did Palencia. But instead he incorporates the far-reaching statement (which he took from the Cronica Castellana) that the conversos ofjaen -were killed for no reason,5 It is evident, then, that with regard to both Cordova and Jaen, Valera excluded the religious reason from the causes of the outbreaks. These were not minor assertions; and to make them under the inquisi¬ tional regime required considerable daring. To be sure, Valera was the King’s maestresala and member of his Council; he was also favored by both the King and Queen; but to give the Inquisitors cause to attack him, by presenting himself as a defender of “heretics”—and to do so against the evidence of his main source (Palencia)—was to take chances that only morality could dictate and courage could permit. His courage, however, was greatly diminished when he came to describe the founding of the Inquisition. The establishment of the Holy Office, he declares, resulted from the illumination by divine grace of the most illustrious princes, Ferdinand and Isabella,” who, in their desire to cleanse their kingdoms of all crimes, did not forget the heresies with which their subjects were infected.6 According to Valera, the bearers of these heresies were not only “many of the newly converted,” but also “some of the Old Christians, who deviated from the right path.” Among the latter he mentions the heretics of Durango (who had already been wiped out decades before!), the doubters of all truths save man s birth and death, and those who interpret certain parts of Holy Scripture against the understanding of the holy doctors of the Church.7 By including the above exegetes and skeptics, as well as the dead heresy of Durango, among the factors against which the Inquisition was created, Valera sought to present the Inquisition not as specifically anti-converso, but as generally anti-heretical, and thereby soften the blow against his group. No doubt for this reason he also stated that, in establishing the Inquisition, the Kings followed not only the advice of Tomas de Torquemada, the prior of Santa Cruz, but also that of the prior of Prado, Hernando de Talavera (who was a converso).8 The statement led Zurita to remark: “He does not tell the truth. Hernando de Talavera did not share the intentions of Torquemada. He was opposed to the founding of the Inquisition.”9

II. FERNANDO DE PULGAR

Like Valera, Pulgar, the son of a converso who must have been exception¬ ally well connected, was reared from his youth at the Court ofjuan II.10 His intellectual horizon was that of the early Renaissance, which by then had invaded Spain with great force, while his moral views were shaped by that particular blend of ideas, drawn from both Testaments and the Church

Fathers’ teachings, which formed the converso social creed. That creed he was ready to defend. He may not have been trained as a fighter like Valera, but his pen was his sword, which he used with great skill and often with the artistry of a juggler. His eloquence as both writer and speaker, and his mastery of several languages (among them French), led to his appointment by Enrique IV as his secretary and chronicler (in 1458) and later as his ambassador to Rome and France. The same abilities must have earned him, under the Catholic Kings, the positions of the Queen’s Secretary, member of the Royal Council, and ambassador to France (in 1475). Since he was for many years the chronicler of Enrique IV, it stands to reason that he wrote the history of that reign. But if so, none of this work has survived, except perhaps some sections included in the chapters which precede his Cronica of the Catholic Kings. This cronica he began to write in 1482, possibly in 1481—i.e., after the establishment of the Inquisition—but what he writes on the conversos prior to that event reflects the views he held—and expressed—in the period of Enrique IV and the early years of the Catholic Kings. In his extant chapters on Enrique, Pulgar does not refer to any of the attacks made upon the conversos during that reign (possibly because he dealt with these in his other cronica). But he discusses the converso problem after Enrique’s time—that is, to the end of the seventies—both in his Letters and his Cronica of the Catholic Kings. Since his Letters are supposed to bear more distinctly the stamp of his own views, we shall first touch on them. Of the letters in question, undoubtedly the most important is his epistle To a Friend in Toledo.”11 “In this noble city,” Pulgar writes, “it is not tolerated in good spirit that some who are believed not to belong to [the right] lineage have honors and governmental offices, since it is maintained that their defect of blood denies them the capacity of government. In the same way, some cannot agreeably see wealth possessed by men who are not believed to merit it, especially in those who had recently acquired it. These matters, which are considered grave and intolerable, give rise to an envy that torments men to the point of taking up arms and launching assaults.”12 As Pulgar sees it, these men seek to “correct the world (emendar el mundo) and redivide its goods and honors according to their own will” (arbitrio). For it seems to them that “the world is in a bad way and its assets are not well distributed.”13 One should not conclude from this that Pulgar refers here to a class struggle in the modern sense. What he has in mind is something more fundamental, more complex and more ancient. “This is a very old dispute, he says, “and a very old quarrel,” whose deep roots go back to the beginning of mankind. What he is speaking of is the racial struggle, which no doubt has social and economic implications, but nevertheless stems from different urges, which the enemies of the conversos seek to exploit. By conditioning the right to wealth on lineage, these men, he says, err against the law of nature,

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for “all of us have been born of the same matter (de una masa) and had a noble beginning.” They also err against divine lave, which “wants us all to belong to one flock and be guided by one shepherd”; and especially do they act against the “virtue of charity,” which illuminates the road to true felicity. Pulgar adds that many who are believed to be of “low origin” (baja sangre) become, by dint of their natural inclination, great scholars, or able fighters, or accomplished orators, or experts in governance and administration, while others who descend from kings and men of note remain obscure and forgot¬ ten, for being [“naturally”] incapable.14 And this is so not only in mankind generally. “Even among brothers, of the same father and mother, we see that one is learned, the other ignorant; one is a coward, the other valiant; one is generous, the other avaricious.”1S And thus one should not be troubled by the fact that riches and honors are possessed by some who seemingly ought not to have them, and vice versa. “For this proceeds from a divine ordination” that "cannot be obstructed on earth except by destroying the earth." We have to believe, he adds, that “God created men, and not lineages, and that, when born, he made them all nobles.” Baseness of blood and obscurity of lineage are acquired only by those who have left the way of virtue and inclined themselves toward the vices. Consequently, no natural force can secure the transfer of nobility from one to another, without the presence of the “source of true nobility which is no other than virtue.’16 This summarizes Pulgar’s credo about wealth, offices, honors and nobility. And the same views he puts into the mouth of Gomez Manrique, the governor of Toledo, when, in 1478, the city was threatened with new attacks upon the conversos. To calm the spirits of the incited citizens, the governor addressed them in a speech, which is included in Pulgar s Cronica of the Catholic Kings and which was no doubt prepared for him by Pulgar.17 In that speech, Manrique surveyed the behavior of the Toledans in the preceding decades, showing how they rebelled against one king after another, believing that through these rebellions and robberies they would achieve wealth and honors. But what have they actually achieved? “Have those who incited you to rebel divided among you any goods or offices?” the governor asked his Toledan audience. “Or can anyone of you say that he possesses anything of the past robberies? Certainly nothing!” To be sure, the estates of the instiga¬ tors were enlarged, and some of them attained “with your efforts and at your peril honors and offices of iniquity,” but “you have remained the deceived people, without benefit, without honor, without authority, and with infamy, peril, and poverty”; and what is worse, “you have shown yourselves as rebels to your King, destroyers of your land, and subjects of the evil men who make war within the city, where it is forbidden to make it.”1K Gomez concluded his address by saying that he refrained from continuing and extending the punishment he began to inflict on the evildoers

because

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the King and Queen, our lords, ... do not enjoy shedding their subjects’ blood” and because he believed that his arguments had influenced the trou¬ blemakers to abandon their mischief.19 But this was not Pulgar’s real position. “We may truly believe,” he makes Gomez say at one point, “that if the first and second rebellions had been punished according to the gravity of the crimes they entailed, you would not have dared to commit the others.”20 But what appears in the speech as a passing remark represents only a small part of the program which he would recommend to the government as an effec¬ tive way of pacifying the country. Those who “disturb the peace,” and make themselves “principal guides” of the people, Pulgar says in the above-cited letter, are “moved primarily by arrogance and ambition; their means are envy and malice, and their ends death and destruction.” Surely, such people do not deserve to have the authority of leaders, but as “men of scandal they should be separated, not only from the people, but from the worldf for so moved are they by their evil intentions that they will not be detained either by the fear of God, or the orders of the King, or the pangs of conscience, or the counsels of reason. They must suffer the ultimate penalty.21 Pulgar has thus made clear his view that the conflict between the Old and New Christians arose from envy of the conversos’ wealth and jealousy of the honors they attained and the authority they exercised through the offices they controlled. The quarrel was therefore racial and social. It was not religious—a factor which Pulgar simply ignores as unworthy of mention. In the preceding generation this was the position of such converso leaders as the Relator and Torquemada, except that in the intervening decades the conver¬ sos must have been far more assimilated and their interest in the religious issue—or, more precisely, in the problem of the Judaizers—must have di¬ minished accordingly. Also regarding the remedy for the conflict, Pulgar urged the same measures proposed by his converso predecessors and by Old Christian defenders of his group, such as Barrientos, Montalvo and Oropesa. He demanded extreme punishment of the conversos’ enemies and no punish¬ ment for the conversos, who were in his eyes “not guilty” of the charges leveled against them by their adversaries. This, too, implies that he dismissed religious misconduct by the conversos as a problem requiring stern action to cure it. This was Pulgar’s position before the establishment of the Holy Office. But the Inquisition, and the war it declared on the conversos, must have shattered his outlook. The issue he considered fictitious or half-dead suddenly became all-important, and to deny the Inquisition’s charges in this matter would place him in confrontation with the dreaded institution. Survival meant acceptance of the Inquisition’s claims; and anxious to survive, he admitted them, persuading himself that by acknowledging the “problem” as presented by the Inquisition, he could dispute its applied solution. Thus he wrote his

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letter to Cardinal Mendoza, in which he argued, on the grounds of humanity, the impossibility of suppressing a large-scale heresy by mass extermination.22 He soon learned that this was not the view of the Inquisitors, and that his tactical “admission” of the Inquisition’s contentions had completely missed the mark. His letter was considered scandalous; he was even accused of heresy, and before long was compelled to leave the Court, since his argu¬ ments were regarded as inconsistent not only with the Inquisition but also with the policy of the Kings. When a year later he was invited by the Sovereigns to serve as chronicler of the realm, he knew he would have to be more cautious in presenting the Inquisition’s case. Thus in his early account of the Inquisition in his Crimea of the Catholic Kings, he tried to be as docile as possible and avoid any criticism of the Inquisition.23 But soon thereafter he abandoned that stand. Evidently, he could not remain silent in the presence of the terrible atrocities he witnessed, and used his Crimea not only as a medium of information but also as an instrument of attack. Thus in the second account he included in the Crimea concerning the founding of the Inquisition in Seville, he speaks only of “some Christians of Jewish descent” who began to Judaize and did not “feel well about the faith”24; and after describing the actions of the Inquisition against them, he presents sharp criticisms of these actions as expressed by some “relatives of the prisoners and condemned.” By means of these criticisms Pulgar publicly exposed the Inquisition’s improper and illegal procedures, charging it with the infliction of punishments on the accused which were “too grave for many reasons" and therefore constituted a “deviation from justice." Above all, he here states that both the “ecclesiastic Inquisitors and the secular executors behaved cruelly and showed great enmity, not only toward those they punished and tormented, but also toward all [New Christians], with the aim of besmirching and defaming them with that horrible crime.” What is more, this cruelty was clearly manifested in the entire range of the Inquisition’s opera¬ tions, beginning with the “acceptance of witnesses and information, through the tortures administered, to the execution of the sentences.”25 Pulgar could hardly have made a stronger case against the Inquisition. And this he did in the pages of the royal crinica itself! He found another opportunity to assail the Inquisition when he touched on the beginning of its activity in Toledo, and then in Valladolid. In Toledo he speaks of “some men and women who performed secretly Jewish rites,” among whom some were condemned for “perpetual incarceration and others were burned.” It turned out, however, that these condemnations were based on testimonies given by Moors, Jews, servants and vile men, and especially by poor and iniquitous Jews who, due to their malice and enmity for the conversos, falsely accused them asjudaizers. Eight of thesejews were stoned, he reported.26 The same thing happened in Valladolid, where “many vile

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Jews” falsely accused “some conversos” in order to “carry them to death.” When the truth finally emerged, some of these Jews too were sentenced to be stoned.27 Thus, Pulgar’s accounts of the Inquisition turn into a grim accusation against the Inquisition and against the Inquisitors as defenders of Christian¬ ity. In these accounts he totally forsakes the claim of the existence of a widespread heresy, which he originally accepted for tactical reasons, and no longer speaks of the Judaizers as a mass movement, or even as “many,” but only as "algunos” (some), which could of course suggest a small minority, nor does he speak of the Inquisitors as men of pure intentions and proper behavior, as he did in his first discussions of the Inquisition, but as cruel agents, full of hate for the conversos, whom they subject to the worst evils. However cleverly Pulgar conducted these attacks, it required exceptional courage on his part thus to offend the Inquisition s performance and test the patience of its severe functionaries—including the Inquisitor-General, Tomas de Torquemada. Adolfo de Castro said that “one voice alone in all Spain was heard in defence of the victims” of the Inquisition.28 That was Pulgar’s. It must be noted, however, that when he spoke in his name, he could not help lauding the Inquisitors, and that when he attacked them, he did not speak in his name. What we hear, then, clearly is his voice as reporter, who loudly, but in¬ directly, presented the charges which Pulgar, as accuser, had to suppress.

III. ALONSO DE PALENCIA

I No other Spanish historian provides so much information about the evolu¬ tion of the Old/New Christian conflict in the second half of the fifteenth century as Alfonso Fernandez de Palencia. Most of what we know about the conversos of that period derives from his writings, and most of what he writes about them was considered by him an inseparable part of Spain s history at certain crucial junctures. Hence his extensive interest in this group. The question is to what extent are his accounts about it true. For no other Spanish historical narrative aroused so much controversy about its credibility as Palencia’s memoirs entitled Three Decades of My Life, better known as the Cronica of Enrique IV.29 The main cause of that contro¬ versy was Palencia’s extreme criticism of King Enrique. According to Pa¬ lencia, the King was not only a strange creature and a misfit, but a criminal of the worst kind. That these characterizations do violence to the truth is attested by all other contemporary portrayals of Enrique, such as those of Valera, Pulgar and Escavias,30 which resemble that of his official chronicler,

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Carrillo, who often spoke of Enrique with genuine admiration. They are also denied by the Catalonians’ repeated attempts to induce Enrique to become their king. When they made these attempts, Enrique was already thirty-seven years old and had been King of Castile for eight years. Had he been as perverse as Palencia described him, his crimes and misdeeds would have been public knowledge; and it is inconceivable that the legal-minded Catalonians would have wanted to put their country under his rule. No wonder that Palencia’s “image” of Enrique led many historians to denounce him. Said Geronimo de la Cruz, the seventeenth-century biogra¬ pher of Enrique: “Palencia was a historian of the worst intentions”; all he wrote against the King was “inspired with hatred and enmity”; he was a “salable person who hardly ever said even a single word of truth”31; and these denunciations were echoed by many authors, down to Orestes Ferrara, who called Palencia “a perfidious chronicler.”32 Against these critics, however, there stands the great authority of Zurita, who flourished only fifty years after Palencia and said of him: “Spain never had a more truthful chronicler.”33 He, too, was followed by a line of supporters, through Zuniga, who wrote Se¬ ville’s history,34 to Palencia’s modern biographer, Antonio Paz y Melia, who praised Palencia’s “valorous independence” and his courage in exposing the corruption of his time.35 Truth does not necessarily fall between two extremes. Even so, in the case of Palencia, some leading Spanish scholars of the nineteenth century tended to see him half-white and half-black. That is how Amador saw him36; and that is how he was seen by Ballester. The latter regarded Palencia as the most important historian of the time of Enrique IV; he also considered him an inexorable critic of his society, but—“more vengeful than just” (mas vengador que justiciero)?1 Similarly, Menendez y Pelayo regarded Palencia as the Tacitus of Enrique IV, but flawed by the defect noted by Ballester.38 Was Palencia vengeful? Or was he mistaken? And if so, to what extent were these shortcomings reflected in his history? His attitude toward Enrique cannot be explained by the available sources; for his criticism of the King is not only partisan but irrational, reflecting a hatred that must have arisen from most humiliating confrontations between him and the King when Palencia served as his chronicler. This animus was extended by Palencia to many of Enrique’s friends. Did it also determine Palencia’s position in other related cases? This raises the question of his alleged “independence,” for which he was so praised by Paz y Melia. Was Palencia really an independent judge? When he wrote his Cronica of Enrique, he was not a court historian who glosses over his master’s errors and magnifies his achievements. But this does not mean that he was independent. For while he was free of Enriques domination, he was in the service of the Catholic Sovereigns, especially of Queen Isabella.

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To be sure, at least most of the Decadas were written after he had left the court of these Kings, but their powerful influence no doubt lingered in his mind, and he must have aspired to become royal chronicler. His Decadas were designed to serve the interests of Isabella, the legitimacy of whose succession clearly depended on the illegitimacy of Enrique s daughter, Juana. Like Valera and Pulgar, Palencia served the Queen by stressing Enrique’s alleged impotence. But he went far beyond this. Perhaps he thought that by denigrating Enrique, he might win the Queen’s greater affection and support. In fact, even after he had left the Court, he received a pension and grants from the Kings, among them the 60,000 maravedis given him in 1482.39 His apparent desire to please the Kings weakens the assumption of his “independence”; yet other facts seem to strengthen it. Virtually nothing is known of Palencia’s social background, but we have a fair notion of his education, which was overseen by several strong personalities who stood firmly by their beliefs. These were famous men such as Alonso de Cartagena, Bessarion and George of Trebizond, with whom he was associated for decades; and it was their views of government and society, of war and peace, of the noble and the ignoble—together with the views of the Roman moral¬ ists and historians with whose works these men acquainted him

that taught

him to judge things in a moral light and had a formative influence on his attitudes. He remained faithful to the old Spanish political ideals: a strong monarchy, with the right of inheritance as conceived in the Middle Ages, but a monar¬ chy governed by law—by the law of God and the law of nature, as it is inscribed in man’s heart; he respected the social conventions of Spain, its social distinctions and class divisions, but he wanted the nobility to be true to its duties and, above all, to its code of honor. He was a Christian who believed in “true Catholicism,” who wanted to see the Church purified and ennobled, less interfering in crude politics and devoting itself more, or wholly, to its religious principles. There was nevertheless none of the reli¬ gious reformer in him, as there was none of the political innovator; and he had mixed feelings about the conversos.

II

These feelings raise the difficult question of his dominant attitude toward the New Christians—a question that is further complicated by the views expressed in modern historiography concerning his identity. Thus Juan Torres-Fontes, a Spanish scholar who studied the life of Enrique IV, wrote in 1953, referring to Palencia, that “his Jewish origin has been proven.”40 This assertion, however, was not supported by data as to when and by whom that proof was offered. Nor did Americo Castro supply such data when he wrote,

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in several of his works,41 that Palencia was a New Christian. We can never¬ theless detect the source of these and several similar statements: Julio Puyol’s "Los cronistas de Enrique IV” published in 1921.42 In this work, which includes a chapter on Palencia, Puyol says: “He was born in Osma to a family of conversos on July 21, 1423,” and in a note accompanying this statement, he says that the biographical data he presented in the text were drawn from the works referred to in the “preceding note.”43 In the preceding note Puyol mentions Amador, Fabie, Menendez y Pelayo, Tomas Rodriguez and Paz y Melia, all of whom indeed wrote of Palencia,44 but none said a word about his Jewish ancestry. Nor do we find a statement to this effect in the works of Nicolas Antonio, Pellicer, Gallardo, Dormer, Clemencin,45 or any of the other scholars and historians who had dealt with Palencia or his time before Puyol. On what grounds, then, did Puyol make his definite assertion? Evidently, he made his claim solely on the basis of the reasons he presents in his work—reasons which both he and his followers must have found so convincing that they unhesitatingly ascribed a Jewish ancestry to Palencia. But are Puyol’s reasons really flawless? Puyol summarizes his main arguments in the following brief statement: It is not to be forgotten,” he says, “that the chronicler stemmed from Jewish stock (de estirpe de jfudlos) and that, as such, he not only retained the indelible characteristics of his race, but also failed—despite his strong protestations of adherence to the Church—to hide his profound affection for his congeners, as well as his hatred for the Old Christians. ”46 Logically, the statement is wrongly structured, for it rests on a petitioprincipii, assuming what it tries to prove. We shall, however, treat Puyol’s arguments in due order and see whether we can derive from them the conclusion their author took for granted. What are the “characteristics of the Jewish race” which Puyol considered “indelible” and which he evidently claimed to have discerned? “A reflection of his Jewish mentality,” says Puyol, “is the superstitious background of his spirit and the credit he gives to omens—a belief which, especially in the Semitic peoples, presents the idea of the constant influence of the supernatu¬ ral in human affairs.” Puyol finds evidence for this

belief

in Palencia s

references to meteorological and astronomical phenomena, such as cyclones, storms, comets and eclipses, which form the overwhelming majority of his “signs” of irregular future events, and also in his incidental reporting (on five occasions) of other strange events of a seemingly miraculous nature.47 But can any of these reflect what Puyol calls the “indelible characteristics of the Jewish race”? The truth is that the belief in the occult generally, and in heavenly phenomena in particular, as instruments for predicting future events was not characteristic of the “Semitic peoples,” or a particular trait of the Jewish mentality,” but a phenomenon common to almost all peoples at certain stages

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of their civilization. Semitic peoples, too, practiced the art of foretelling the future on the basis of various “signs”; but perhaps no other people had practiced them so regularly, and developed the belief in them into such a ramified study, as did the “non-Semitic” Greeks. There was hardly any form of divination known anywhere in antiquity (and later in the Middle Ages) that the Greeks had not adopted or invented and included in their general “science” of divination, which consisted of more than twenty branches. In contrast, the Jews were, in this respect, an exception among all ancient peoples, for they not only denied any value to the signs widely assumed as foretelling the future, but launched a crusade against the believers in such signs. Had Puyol forgotten the biblical injunctions against all occult prac¬ tices,48 or the prophetic scorn at those who “fear the signs of heaven” and follow the theories of the “nations” about them which are nothing but “nonsense”?49 This does not mean of course that the Jews of the Middle Ages were immune to the belief in miraculous signs and especially to astrology, but as believers in these methods of “forecast,” the Jews were assuredly not an exception in mankind. The chapters “Comets and Courts” and “Astrological Predictions” in Lynn Thorndike’s History of Magic and Experimental Science show clearly that astrology, and the prediction of events on the basis of heavenly signs, such as comets, eclipses and meteorological irregularities, was of common interest in fifteenth-century Europe, embracing the courts of France, Germany, Naples, Milan, Bohemia, Hungary, and Poland. The fre¬ quent appearance of comets in that century (and especially Halley’s comet in 1456) was the subject of a whole literature, whose writers and sponsors included monks and bishops; and the astrological predictions from 1464 to the end of the century were more widespread and frequent than ever before.50 Palencia was simply a representative of his age in following a tendency which, as we see it, had nothing to do with Jewish mentality, but with the state of European culture at the time. Moreover, as a student of Livy, Suetonius and other classical historians, whose works he took as models for his own, Palencia most likely also followed their example in frequently referring to omens of evil. That his readers might see in this a “Jewish” innovation would not, we assume, even enter his mind. The belief in miracles and their frequent occurrence was, after all, a feature of Christian, rather than Jewish life in the Europe of his time. Ill

This, we believe, nullifies the main proof offered by Puyol for Palencia’s Jewishness. But he offers, as we have noticed, two other proofs which on the surface seem reasonable. Palencia, Puyol claims, was imbued with hatred for

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the Old Christians,” presumably all Old Christians, or at least their great majority51; and to prove this contention, Puyol makes much of Palencia’s attitude toward the popes. On the pretext of the corruption of the Roman Curia, says Puyol, he lashes its members severely for their avarice, accusing them of heaping evil upon evil when they succeed to the papacy, “as if it had been a point of honor for the successor to exceed all the others in the perpetration of detestable deeds.”52 In addition, Palencia laments that the popes hold the tiara “primarily for the arrogant ostentation of their power,” and that “insignificant people who lack any merit” are “elevated to the grade of the pontifical throne”53; he accuses them of simony when they dispense all kinds of indulgences for money,54 “always in a manner that the magnificence of the payment corresponds to the liberality of the grant.”55 There is no doubt that Palencia’s attacks on the popes (and, we may add, on the College of Cardinals) abound in offensive accusations and invective; but this is hardly evidence that he was a converso. These attacks reflect not a converso attitude, but an attitude then found in many parts of Christendom, especially in Italy and ultramontane countries. The “decades” he wrote about followed, we should recall, the long period of the Schism, which ended in 1449 and during which the sharpest denunciations and vilest criticisms were hurled against the popes. From these attacks on the occupants of St. Peter’s chair the papacy did not recover for a long time; and the popes’ positions following the Schism, in which principle was often sacrificed for expediency, their constant search for money to replenish their treasury (which could never keep up with their lavish expenses), and the moral shortcomings of some of the popes, fueled these continual reproaches, which finally culminated in the Reformation. Palencia expressed his view of the popes in the period between the Schism and the Reformation, and he wrote of them as one who had long lived in Italy, who had heard all the cynical and very worldly rumors that were circulated about them in that country, and who had noticed the complete lack of reverence with which critics of the Church in Italy often spoke of the popes and their activities. To be sure, sharp public censure of the papacy was not a common Spanish practice, but here too popes were harshly criticized by those whose interests they opposed; and Palencia, we should recall, was faced with popes who supported Enrique IV. Even so, his criticisms of the popes reflects an Italian rather than a Spanish attitude, and certainly not a converso attitude. For no other Catholic group produced more ardent and more effective defenders of the papacy than the conversos. Politically, too, it was important for the New Christians to generate respect for the popes; and despite their disappointment with the papacy’s position in their quarrel with their enemies in 1451, they were careful to show it all homage and respect. After all, it was only the papacy they could turn to for aid when all other attempts and approaches failed.

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It follows that Palencia’s attacks upon the popes were not consistent with a converso policy any more than were other attacks upon the papacy during and after the great Schism. Indeed, as we see it, only an Old Christian would dare speak in those days against the papacy in such a vein. Had he been a New Christian, Palencia would have tended to moderate or disguise his opinion of the popes, if it were indeed so negative.

IV

There remains, then, the final “proof’ that Puyol offers to Palencia’s Jewish origin—the passages in which Palencia “defends and exculpates the conversos, especially those of Cordova and Seville.”56 According to Puyol, Palencia shows in these passages “profound affection” for his “congeners,” the fellow members of his race. Puyol says nothing more on this subject, which apparently he considered self-evident. To us, however, his contention requires proof, especially since Palencia’s attitude toward the conversos was likely to shape his views about them. Was then, we ask, that attitude marked by such a “profound affection” for the conversos as to be an unquestionable symptom of his belonging to their group? The greatest attacks on the conversos in Enrique IV’s time occurred in Toledo (1467) and Cordova (1473)- Palencia used both occasions to express his opinion of the conversos and their share of responsibility for the outbreaks. In the case of Toledo, he puts the main blame on King Enrique’s agents, who induced the conversos of the city to believe that King Alfonso’s followers were their enemies who sought to exterminate all Marranos. That the con¬ versos were agitated by such fears is possible, especially since the city, under Alfonso’s regime, was seething with anti-converso agitation. The Toledan conversos’ provision of arms and their attempts to secure the help of friendly nobles may be understood in the light of that situation. But this is not how Palencia explains their activity. According to him, these actions were not aimed at their self-defense, but formed part of a plan to attack the Old Christians and capture the city, apparently to deliver it to King Enrique. Naturally, their preparations were conducted in secrecy and thus, when they sought the Count of Cifuentes’ aid, they pointed out to him only the dangers they had faced, but concealed from him the real purpose of their request, which was their “arrogant resolution” to take hold of the city.57 But could such a position have been adopted by the conversos? Could they really have had the means and manpower to wrest all the fortified places in the city from the Old Christians’ hands? Nothing that occurred in the course of the out¬ break indicates that they had such a plan in mind or the capacity to imple¬ ment it. What we have here, then, is merely a repetition of their enemies’ claims in the days of Sarmiento that the conversos, who armed themselves

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in self-defense, planned to seize the city and deliver it to Alvaro—obviously, an excuse to blame the conversos for the casualties and other punishments they suffered. Yet no converso historian would have taken this excuse as an explanation of the pogrom. If Palencia was indeed “persuaded” to believe in the truth of this explanation, this in itself would show that he was an “outsider.” And no converso would have written as he did that the Count of Cifuentes supported the conversos during their military encounters with their enemies because he was deceived by them to believe that the "conversos were fighting for their liberty and not \merely\ to hurt the Old Christians.'58 Nor would any converso write that the Old Christians, who were originally fighting “slug¬ gishly,” were “finally persuaded that they had to fight with determination for their religion, their freedom and their life.”59 For no converso writer would assume that the Old Christians, who initiated the battle to ruin the conversos, fought it for “their religion and liberty.” One may conclude from Palencia’s statement that the same interests also motivated the conversos. But then the “religion” they fought for would be their religion, different from that of the Old Christians. Could any New Christian author subscribe to such an as¬ sumption? We have seen how in describing the quarrel that broke out in the 1 oledan Cathedral in 1467, Palencia showed a clearly anti-converso attitude; how he presented the conversos as deliberate aggressors, violating the “divine ser¬ vice,” and responsible for the killing of Old Christian officials (against what we gather from another source).60 What is more, he assumed that Alvar Gomez provoked the entire scandal because he was “aware of what his friends of the same race were planning [namely, the capture the city] and, being their accomplice [in the preparation of that plan],” he counted on their strength and their ultimate victory, and therefore behaved impudently and rudely.61 Palencia here seems to forsake all logic in his attempt to prove the conversos’ guilt. Alvar Gomez, who betrayed Enrique and was Pacheco s collaborator in the rebellion, wanted the city to be delivered to the man whom he fled in fear of his life! Everything is of course possible in politics; but Palencia has nothing to support his guess. He is simply trying to combine some glaring contradictions of fact to substantiate his case that the conversos of Toledo planned to take the city. Coming to Cordova, he sees the main cause of the riots there in 1473 in the conversos’ provocative religious behavior—that is, their “open practice of Jewish rites which they had previously performed secretly62 To be sure, Palencia says that the bishop, who was corrupt, harped on their religious transgressions, and that the conversos accused him of being “factious and malevolent.” Evidently, the conversos denied his charges, but Palencia does not bother to present their rebuttal. Instead, he says that the conversos

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performed their sacrilegious deeds in reliance on the military protection of Aguilar, whom they supplied with huge sums of money. But is this credible? Would a community so threatened that it had to pay so much for its protec¬ tion behave in so provocative a manner—and this only five years after the great riots in Toledo, and five additional years after those of Carmona! Palencia does not seem to be disturbed by these questions, and in contrast to the conversos’ contempt for Christianity, he stresses their opponents’ “reli¬ gious zeal.”63 Nevertheless, to this initial cause of the conflict (i.e., the conversos’ reli¬ gious misdeeds) Palencia adds other reasons. “The conversos [of Cordova], he says, “were extraordinarily enriched by rare arts, and puffed with pride, they aspired with insolent arrogance to dispose of the public offices.”64 What New Christian, we ask, would have expressed such criticism of the conversos’ attempts to enter public service—attempts which, they believed, they had the full right to make as Christians and equal citizens of the republic? And what New Christian would see their efforts to attain such offices a display of “insolent arrogance” after they had been engaged in these offices for genera¬ tions and served in all the country’s administrations? These statements were framed in the style of the conversos’ bitterest enemies, who never acquiesced in their entry into the administrative system, and Palencia seems to have taken them from a rabidly anti-Marrano document. What is more, no converso would describe the efforts of the conversos in Cordova to protect themselves against the attacks of the Old Christians as Palencia did. “The conversos,” he says, “because of their natural timidity and the awareness of their evil deeds, prepared defenses in their most populous precincts, armed themselves and hid the treasures which they had accumulated, in most cases, by foul methods”65 The readiness of the conversos to defend themselves with arms in hand is described by him as “timidity” (contrary to their “newborn valor,” of which the conversos boasted) and that “timidity” (or cowardice) is not only part of their nature (just as Marcos Garcia once said), but also stems from the knowledge of their crimes, whose discovery they feared. For their treasures were obtained not only through rare arts, as Palencia said earlier, but in most cases, through "evil arts” (malas artes). This, too, is part of the terminology of the converso racist enemies. If Palencia did not share the views they convey, he certainly copied them from antiMarrano documents, which served him as sources for his Cordovan account. But his readiness to use these sources and their extreme antisemitic language shows as clearly as any evidence could that he was no New Christian. His attitude toward the new Marrano nobles is also anti-converso. He considers them “men of low extraction, accustomed to the vilest trades,” and accuses them of having attained the Order of the Cavalry only “by means of money and against any rule.”66 “Never did they attempt to take any part even

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in the least significant movement ofliberty,” he says; but once they joined the knighthood, they hastened to “rouse rebellions and form bands,” which did not contribute of course to the country’s welfare.67 This passage bears the symptoms of Palencia’s own thinking; he hated the upstart “intruders,” who increased the tumult in the country; but in this instance too, we may safely assume, no converso would treat so critically the new converso nobility and so generalize its negative characteristics. It follows that Puyol has misrepresented Palencia’s attitude toward the New Christians. No one who drew such a bleak picture of the conversos’ religious, social and economic conduct could be filled with such

profound

affection” for them as Puyol claimed, and certainly not with such affection that could offer ground for identifying him as a member of their group. On the contrary, Palencia’s negative descriptions of the conversos as analyzed above give every reason to believe that he was an Old Christian.

V

Nevertheless, it is true that on several occasions Palencia took the side of the conversos, and vehemently accused their persecutors. This happened in his discussion of the Marranos in Seville after the riots in Cordova, when he writes that while some of them sought to migrate, the majority remained in the city “without fear of death” (there is no mention here of their “timidity by nature”); in his description of the behavior of the settlers in Gibraltar, which was honorable religiously, too (if we go by the implications of Pa¬ lencia’s narrative); and especially in his portrayal of the riots in Carmona in 1462. Here, as we have seen, he calls the pogromists “evildoers” (malvadores), who perpetrated their crimes against the conversos “in the name of religion,’’ but purely out of “thirst for their wealth,” adding, after these crucial words, the cardinal remark as they had done before in Toledo and as the thieves had done later following their pernicious example.’™ Palencia wrote this during the reign of the Catholic Kings, and the crimes the “thieves” committed “later”—i.e., in Toledo, 1467, and Cordova, 1473 were already behind him, as were the events of Carmona. Yet here he judges the later occurrences as he does the Carmona massacre, quite differently from the way he treats them in later chapters, where he offered, as we have seen, his detailed account of what happened in Toledo in 1467 and Cordova in 1473. Obviously, we have here two conflicting attitudes toward both the conversos and their opponents. What caused the change in Palencia s posi¬ tion? The only plausible explanation of this discrepancy must be related, as we see it, to the time in which Palencia wrote these chapters.

1 he piece on

Carmona was probably written in 1477, if not earlier, before the Sovereigns

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appealed to the Pope to authorize an Inquisition.69 In contrast, the pieces on Toledo in 1467 and Cordova in 1473 were written, in all likelihood, after that appeal had been made, and possibly after the Sovereigns had received the Pope’s positive response. Palencia must have been in touch with the Court and aware of the pertinent developments. He well realized the change that the Inquisition would effect in Spain’s social life, and clearly understood that, under its authority, it would be utterly impossible to write on the conversos in the vein he had used when he described the pogrom in Carmona. If he tried to do so, Palencia was sure, he would sign his literary death warrant, and his literary survival may have been to him more precious than life itself. Once the Inquisition was established, he knew, all expressed views on men and events would have to be accommodated to its judgments. His portrayal of the Holy Office, which he wrote years later under the Inquisition, shows his moral collapse before the dread it inspired.70 Like Valera and Pulgar, he too retreated from his previously expressed ideas and formally accepted the Inquisition’s declarations about its findings, purposes and achievements. Yet Valera and Pulgar retreated only after the Inquisition had been estab¬ lished, and even then conducted a kind of rear-guard action in the conversos’ defense. Palencia, as an Old Christian, did not feel obliged to take such risks. He began his accommodation to the Inquisition as soon as he suspected its approaching establishment. This was not easy for a man who aspired to be a truthful historian and a just social critic. In the two years that passed between the authorization of the Inquisition and its establishment in Seville, there must have been moments when Palencia, like others, came to doubt the materialization of the plan. At such moments, he relaxed his vigilance and reduced his caution, and wrote on the conversos in a sympathetic spirit which reflected his true thoughts. But the panic that seized him when he prepared his accounts on Toledo in 1467 and Cordova in 1473 still left its imprint on his formulations, such as those he composed when he wrote about the plan to attack the Marranos in Segovia. In the anti-Marrano social atmosphere, which gave all the signs of a gathering storm, Palencia remained ever sensitive to what was said and done in the Court with regard to the inquisitional project. In consequence, he was often inclined to bend the truth, but, trying to retain his dignity as historian, he repeatedly attempted to restore what he mutilated even when least expected to do so. Thus while presenting the northern conversos’ negative view of their southern brethren, he could not help incorporating his telling statement that "the majority of the conversos of Spain follow the example of Pablo de Santa Maria and his son Alfonso in pursuing the right path."11

CHAPTER IV

The Catholic Kings: The Early Period I474-I480

F

ew kings came to power in a country more disorganized, more torn by dissension and more aching for good government than did the young

Princes Isabella and Ferdinand when they ascended the throne of Castile. More than half a century of feverish unrest, of wars, rebellions, conspiracies and coups d’etat, had left a residue of intrigue and turmoil so deeply in¬ grained in the life of the nation that Castile seemed always to have been on the eve of some social or political explosion. Such an explosion occurred a short time after the opening of the new reign. Unexpectedly, Isabella’s succession passed smoothly and quickly within only few weeks of the death of Enrique IV. Supported by Cabrera and Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, Enrique’s chief confidant and now Cardinal of Spain, she was recognized in Segovia as Queen of Castile first by the Segovians, and then by most cities and almost all grandees and prelates of the kingdom. As Isabella’s husband, Ferdinand too was given the oath of allegiance as “King” and partner of the Queen in governing the realm. Thus, it appeared that the whole people stood united behind the young monarchs. But this seeming harmony was not to last. Signs of a deep, irreparable rift became apparent before long. Some aspirants for power were so embittered by their failure to obtain from Ferdinand and Isabella positions or estates they had considered theirs by right that they denied the legitimacy of Isabella s succession and claimed that the throne belonged rightly to Juana, King Enrique IV’s daughter. The young sovereigns did their utmost to pacify the opposition and draw its ringleaders to their side. But the hard-core antagonists would not be won 9'5

916]

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the

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over, and before long the two princes found themselves embroiled in a war on two fronts, internal and external. Apart from their enemies within the nation, headed by the Marquis of Villena, Pacheco’s son, and the stubborn, warlike archbishop of Toledo, they had to deal with Portugal’s Alfonso V, who, as claimant to the throne, invaded Castile in the first half of May 1475In these circumstances, the attention of the nation centered on the shifting fortunes of war and the accompanying political developments. Other prob¬ lems, including that of the conversos, were shelved for future attention. It was only in March 1476, when the Portuguese had suffered their most crushing defeat and the danger from without had almost vanished, that the sovereigns could attend to internal matters related to the major problem they were faced with—i.e., the establishment of law and order. Even then, however, the converso question received no priority on their agenda. 1 heir first and foremost task, as they saw it, was to gain full control of the national police forces (the hermandades); to suppress some of the great nobles and cities whose loyalty had not yet been secured; and to reduce the remaining nuclei of rebellion still flickering or smoldering in the northwest. It was only when most of these tasks were accomplished that they took a hard look at the converso situation and came up with a radical solution. The solution was the establishment of an inquisition, shaped according to their own design and calculated to serve their specific needs.

They took the first step toward realizing their decision when they secretly petitioned Pope Sixtus IV to authorize operations of an inquisition in Castile. Since they came to Seville in July—August 1477 and stayed there until Sep¬ tember 1478, and since the papal bull approving their plan was issued only about six weeks later, it was obviously in Seville that they framed their petition to the Pope and, in all likelihood, it was also there that they had made up their minds to submit it. We shall dwell later on the major consider¬ ations that moved the sovereigns to decide on this step. At the moment we shall touch on some of the developments of that year (from mid-1477 to mid-1478) which had a share in influencing Ferdinand and Isabella to make that crucial decision. The first of these developments was the return to Cordova of thousands of conversos who had left that city after the great riots (1473) and settled in the fortress town of Gibraltar, which belonged to the Duke of Medina Sidonia.1 As we have indicated, they were expelled from Gibraltar by the Duke unexpectedly, for no fault of their own, after having done their utmost to build up the place and turn it into a safe Marrano haven.2 Now, having nowhere else to go, the conversos returned to their old homes in Cordova,

THE

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EARLY

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[

917

“to be confronted,” as Palencia put it, “with the very dangers from which they had fled.”3 Three and a half years had passed since the outbreak of the riots in Cordova. We do not know whether in this period the urban enactment which forbade all conversos to assume public office in the city was cancelled or modified in the conversos’ favor. It is possible of course that on her own initiative, or moved by the highly placed conversos in her Court, the Queen instructed the authorities of Cordova to abolish their anti-converso ruling, which conflicted with the laws of the kingdom and the Church. But whether she had done so or not, it is clear that the conversos’ condition in the city continued to be dismal. If the statute against them remained in force, they were obviously subject to discrimination and contempt. If it was abolished, hatred for them rose and showed in many other ways. One way or another, three and a half years was too short a time to alter substantially the hostile relations that had caused the assault of 1473. Under these circumstances, the return to Cordova of thousands of New Christian emigres undoubtedly roused popular discontent and raised bitter criticisms among the numerous Old Christians who belonged to the antiMarrano party. To be sure, no mass attacks on the conversos were attempted. The firmness of the Queen, felt from afar, and that of Aguilar, close at hand, were sufficient to prevent such attempts at the time; but the social atmo¬ sphere in the city was feverish and was expressed, among other things, in a rising wave of crime. That this wave was directed especially at the conversos, who were also the target of constant vituperation, cannot be doubted, in our opinion; but it is also apparent that it hit many Old Christians, especially among the well-to-do. The city authorities in charge of law and order found it increasingly hard to meet their obligations, and security in Cordova had so deteriorated that at times it seemed that the administration of justice had ceased to function there altogether.4 The Kings were aware of this situation, especially since they had come to Andalusia, and they were also conscious of the close relations between the criminal upsurge in the city and the suppressed urge of so many of its residents to pour out their wrath on the conversos. Yet even more serious than the condition in Cordova appeared to them the situation in Seville. Here the conversos commanded great power—numerical, economic and political. Half the city’s commerce was in their hands, and much of its administration. Thus both economic and political interests, enhanced by favorable social relations (in many cases, through intermarriage), moved large sections of the middle and upper classes to offer the conversos unquali¬ fied support5; but other large sections of the same groups, mostly competitors of the conversos, opposed them, while the low classes remained their sworn

9 I 8 ]

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enemies and looked for excuses to attack them. As was usual in such situa¬ tions, the friars sided with the conversos’ foes, became their spokesmen, and conducted their campaign. In Seville the anti-converso agitation was led by the Dominicans, who by then had taken over the advocacy of the Inquisition from the Observantine Franciscans. Indubitably, their anti-converso campaign made use of social and racial arguments, but as in the case of Espina and his followers, centered primarily on religious accusations and presented the Inquisition as the only solution to the converso religious problem. Rejecting the charges leveled against them as highly exaggerated or viciously made up, the conversos fiercely denied the need for the erection of inquisitional tribunals. They must have challenged their opponents for proof of their claims; and the Domini¬ cans, like the Franciscans before them, found it hard to offer evidence. This, however, did not diminish the volume, extremism, and ferocity of their assertions. Chief agitator of the Dominican camp was Alonso de Hojeda, prior of the convent of San Pablo in Seville. Both contemporary sources and modern historians of the Inquisition present him as the main influence that moved the sovereigns to adopt—after much reluctance—the inquisitional solution.6 No doubt Alonso de Hojeda did his utmost to induce Ferdinand and Isabella to establish the Inquisition, and we may take it for granted that they listened to him respectfully and carefully noted his various arguments. But they must have accorded the same attention also to the chief critics and opponents of the plan. If they finally adopted the friar’s proposal, it was not necessarily for the reasons he had offered. A study of their behavior in all that relates to the Inquisition leads us to the conclusion that they were moved to establish it by considerations of their own. These considerations rested, above all, on the rising social tension they had noticed in Castile (and especially in Andalusia, where they stayed at the time) and on their assessment of the strength of the anti-Marrano party as opposed to that of the pro-converso faction. In measuring that strength, they no doubt considered not only the numerical factor, which must have been in the conversos’ disfavor, but also the explosive revolutionary potential of each of the two groups. Riots, disorders and troubles on a large scale could come only from the anti-converso side, they knew; and this was true not only for Seville but for all Andalusian cities. Safe control of Andalusia obviously depended on finding a way to reduce the unrest. No less disturbing than the developments in Seville was the news they received from Toledo. There, many citizens were aggrieved by the imposts they were required to pay for the Hermandades, recently reorganized by Ferdinand and Isabella as an effective peace-keeping force. It stands to reason that, in the ensuing debates, the conversos took the side of the Crown, both

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EARLY

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[

9

I

9

because they put their faith in the monarchs and wished to display their loyalty to them, and because, more than any other group in the country, they were interested in maximal security. This may have aroused the dormant hostility between the conversos and their opponents in the city, who could use the occasion to accuse the New Christians of another betrayal of their interests. In all probability, the charges and counter-charges developed into a bitter quarrel, so that by the middle of 1478 indications abounded that certain groups of Old Christians were planning an assault on the conversos. The rising internal discontent in Toledo may have stimulated Archbishop Carrillo’s hopes that he could move a large number of Toledans to join his pro-Portuguese plot against the Kings. According to Pulgar, certain elements in the city, “incited by the gifts and promises of the archbishop, joined in a conspiracy to kill, in an onslaught, the caballero who was the city’s guardian [namely, Gomez Manrique, the corregidor\ and declare the King of Portugal as their monarch.” Pulgar also tells us that the conspirators conducted secret negotiations with those in Toledo “whom they considered ready for scandal and gave them to understand that, “once the condition of the city changed, their fortunes would change, too,” for “they would find great interest [i.e., much profit] in the estates of the merchants and rich citizens, as they had on other occasions.”7 By the “merchants and rich citizens” (who were robbed in the past), only the conversos could be meant, and judging by Pulgar, it was Carrillo’s incitement to rebellion against the Kings that aroused the lust for robbery among the conversos’ foes. As is apparent from Pulgar’s own state¬ ments, however, events happened in reverse order; the anti-converso ferment was not produced by Alonso Carrillo’s agitation for rebellion, but preceded it and helped it spread. The conspirators, it seems, counted largely on the members of the anti-converso party, whom they considered “ready” for an assault, and this readiness was not created overnight; it was there, as a well-known phenomenon, before the development of Carrillos plans. What is more, the speech which, according to Pulgar, Manrique made to Toledo’s citizens at the time, dealt exclusively with the converso problem and clearly indicates that the menacing trouble was primarily of an anti-converso na¬ ture.8 Carrillo’s attempt in September of that year to organize an anti-royal conspiracy may, in fact, have helped Manrique to arrest the subversive movement. It gave him an opportunity to execute the ringleaders, not as fomenters of riots against the conversos, but as plotters of rebellion against the sovereigns, to which most of the citizens were no'doubt opposed. It need hardly be said that these harsh measures did nothing to lessen and much to increase the animus for the New Christians. Thus, hostility to the conversos, which the sovereigns saw growing in all the urban centers of Andalusia, including the great cities of Cordova and Seville, and the rising anti-converso fever in Toledo and its archbishopric,

920

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ENRICLUE

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were no doubt the main factors that prompted the Kings to adopt the inquisitional solution. It was probably in June or July 1478 that they peti¬ tioned the Pope for authorization to establish inquisitional tribunals in Cas¬ tile; and it was on November 1 of that year that he granted their request in his bull Exigit sincere devotionis. It is unlikely that the receipt of the bull remained a secret to the anticonversos. But most of them must have been very skeptical about the sover¬ eigns’ intention to use it. At any rate, the mood that was spreading in their ranks, especially among their followers in Toledo, was one of disillusionment with the sovereigns, if not of burgeoning defiance of their policy toward the conversos. Probably in reaction to the harsh punishments imposed by Manrique on their leaders in Toledo, some Old Christians, anxious to hurt the conversos, hit upon an anti-Marrano plan of action that might preclude governmental interference. Accordingly, several Old Christian fraternities adopted special statutes that excluded all conversos, purely on grounds of race, from their offices and membership. Their activity soon prompted imita¬ tion; and in the course of 1479 the groups and organizations committed to their principle mushroomed in all towns of the Toledan archbishopric. It was no doubt in response to urgent pleas of the conversos, who must have been concerned about that development, that Archbishop Carrillo convened in Alcala, in early 1481, a special synod which condemned the movement of racial discrimination. It proclaimed all the statutes, rulings and regulations adopted by organizations that shared that movement’s views as clearly antiChristian, and therefore null and void, prohibiting their application on pain of excommunication.9 Regardless of the impact of this proclamation (and that impact, we presume, must have been small), the events that prompted it could only strengthen the resolve of both sovereigns to go ahead with their inquisitional solution. Like the anti-Marranos, the conversos were undoubtedly informed of the bull authorizing the establishment of an inquisition, and their leaders must also have become aware of the relevant petition the Kings submitted to the Pope. Like their adversaries, however, they too initially considered it un¬ likely that the sovereigns would actually use the bull. Accordingly, they must have viewed the petition for the bull as a mere propaganda ploy of the Crown to reduce the pressure of the anti-Marrano party. For the conversos had reason to trust both monarchs. Both had shown evidence of close relations with conversos before they ascended their thrones; and both expanded and cemented those relations after their assumption of power. Many of Isabella’s high officials were New Christians, and so were those of Ferdinand. What is more, conversos were found in all the departments of government, in all the councils of state, and among the personal secretaries, advisers and associates of both the King and the Queen. The numerous and broadening functions of

THE

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EARLY

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[ 92 I

these courtiers seemed so inconsistent with the establishment of an inquisi¬ tion that the conversos must have found it hard to take the inquisitional threat seriously. It is therefore probable that even in November 1478, when the bull on the Inquisition reached the Kings, those conversos who were informed of its arrival did not believe it would be enforced. In fact, almost two more years passed before the kings took formal action on the bull. Why? Most scholars attribute the delay to the influence exercised by the conver¬ sos at Court, but this is a conjecture with no evidence to lean on. One may take it for granted that in the two years that passed from the receipt of the bull to its publication, during which the Kings’ intentions no doubt became apparent, the converso courtiers made repeated attempts to change the Kings’ mind concerning the Inquisition; but it is almost equally certain, we believe, that their reasoning and protestations did not move the Kings to reconsider their decision. Before they submitted their petition to the Pope, they had carefully weighed all the pros and cons of the Inquisitional plan. No argument that the conversos could come up with months later could have appeared so novel to the Kings as to make them postpone action on the bull. What caused the long postponement was, in all likelihood, not the conversos’ pleas and arguments, but the country’s social and political conditions in the intervening period. In November 1478, when the bull reached the Kings, Castile was still at war with Portugal, and shortly thereafter preparations were made to meet the second Portuguese invasion. It was only in February of the following year that the conflict was decided in favor of Castile (in the battle of Albuera), but peace with Portugal was not signed before September 1479. In the meantime Ferdinand—the real architect of the Inquisition—had to attend to the affairs of Aragon, which had fallen upon him since the death of his father injanuary of that year. Apart from this, there still remained in Castile some unsettled problems that could cause unrest, especially if supported by criticisms from other quarters. The sovereigns suspected that the actions of the Inquisition could provide grounds for such criticisms against them; they might throw the country into a violent controversy, which the discontented elements could use to stir up trouble; consequently, they did not wish those actions to start before other disturbing problems had been settled and before the country had been pacified, stabilized, and controlled to their satisfaction. It was only after the Cones of Toledo of 1480 concluded its activity on May 15 that they could see all three vital tasks accomplished. And it was only then that they could see their way clear to turn their inquisitional plan into a reality. There was, in addition, one more matter that the sovereigns believed should be taken care of before the start of the Inquisition’s activity. It would seem strange, and give room to much hostile comment, if so great an attack is launched against the Judaizers while leaving the Jews, their inspirers,

922]

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undisturbed. In the Cortes of Toledo, therefore, it was decided that the Jews (and Moors) be transferred to localities completely separated from the Chris¬ tian neighborhoods.10 This was the first link in a long chain of actions, supposedly taken for a “religious” purpose, that made the sovereigns earn, after the expulsion of the Jews, the honorific title of “the Catholic Kings.” Thus, after removing all apparent obstacles, and taking all necessary precautions, the young monarchs, concerned about the outcome of their decision to establish an Inquisition in their realm, finally made the daring step and plunged into the unknown. And thus it happened that after six years of peace, which led the conversos to entertain sanguine hopes, they suddenly saw their entire world tumble before their eyes. What made the Kings cause that upheaval and assume such a changed attitude toward the conversos, which amounted to a declaration of war on their tribe? In the following chapters we shall tackle this question.

BOOK

FOUR

THE ORIGINS OF THE INQUISITION

CHAPTER

I

The Major Causes

I. The Lesson of the Sources

O

i ur survey of the course of Marrano history in the century following the first mass conversion (1391) has thus reached its final stage. In this survey

we have sought to describe the developments—political, social, economic and intellectual—that played a part in the gathering conflict between the Old Christians and the New. The conclusions we shall now draw from these developments will bear upon the principal aim of our inquiry, which is to determine the factors and drives that gave birth to the Spanish Inquisition. What emerges from our survey is that the Spanish Inquisition was by no means the result of a fortuitous concourse of circumstances and events. It was the product of a movement that called for its creation and labored for decades to bring it about—a movement that reflected the will, the feelings and the attitudes of the majority of Spain’s Christian population. Perhaps it was awareness of these facts that led Menendez y Pelayo to say that the Inquisi¬ tion was a genuine expression of the soul of the Spanish people.1 The agitation of that movement was no doubt the force that created the Spanish Inquisition, and in it we must look for the motives that impelled both the spokesmen of the movement and its rank and file. We must, however, take into account the fact that man’s declared motives of his actions often differ from the real reasons that determine them. This is especially so when his needs and interests conflict with the ethical code of his society, which fact inclines him to camouflage his aims by arguments conforming to the prevail¬ ing moral system. Nevertheless, the real goals of movements, especially of those that endure for many years, are bound to be revealed in the end. Indeed, very often the truth is laid bare by the very arguments employed to 925

926]

THE

ORIGINS

OF

THE

INQUISITION

obscure it. The campaign for the Inquisition was no exception to this rule. What, then, can we learn from this campaign about the underlying causes of the Spanish Inquisition? In our search for an answer we should bear in mind that the forces calling for the establishment of the Inquisition formed part of an anti-Marrano drive propelled by arguments of three distinct kinds: religious, social-economic and racial. It is to the arguments of this three¬ pronged drive that we should first look for the answer to our question.

II

Of the various groups of sources dealing with the Marranos, we shall first turn to the Hebrew documents and consider some of the things they tell us about the Marranos’ religious attitudes. As we have indicated, the contents of these documents were summarized by us in a special study,2 and the testimonies it contains give us an account of the religious evolution of Spanish Marranism in the century that followed 1391. Ordinarily, we could have limited our task at this point by calling our readers’ attention to this study. For the purposes of the present work, however, we shall have to cite here some of the evidence touching the last phase of that evolution. This will enable us to get a synoptic view of Marrano religious life as reflected in all our sources (Jewish, Marrano, and Old Christian) at the time the Inquisition was established. It will facilitate a comparison of the lessons we can draw from each of the above groups of documents, and help us arrive at definite conclusions regarding the questions at issue. The problem discussed frequently in the Hebrew sources after the estab¬ lishment of the Inquisition was how Jews should treat the converso fugitives who sought admission to the Jewish fold. In the few decades preceding the Inquisitional persecution, there was no “return” of Marranos to Judaism on any considerable scale.3 To effect such a “return,” the Marranos involved would have to leave Spain for a Moslem country. But except for isolated conversos who did this, we have no evidence of such migrations. The virtual cessation of Marrano emigration should not be attributed to economic con¬ siderations, lack of travel facilities, and the like. As we have demonstrated elsewhere, it was due primarily to the Marranos’ loss of interest in Judaism— or, more precisely, to their Christianization. The Inquisition introduced a change in their attitudes. It revolutionized the thinking of some Christianized Marranos and led them to reexamine their relationship to Christianity, now that they were suffering torture and infamy at the hands of their fellow Christians. They decided to embrace their ancestral faith, from which they had been alienated so long; and to attain this end, they fled to Moslem countries, mostly to those that lay south of Spain. In brief, while no move¬ ment of Marrano “return” was responsible for the Inquisitional persecution,

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the Inquisitional persecution was responsible for the rise of a movement of Marrano “return.” fudging by our sources, the scope of that movement was far less than is commonly believed. It was too small to affect the main religious attitudes of the vast majority of the Marrano population, but large enough to stir the hopes of many Jews, who dreamed of a large-scale Marrano “revival.” It is instructive that those who entertained such hopes were by and large not Castilian or Aragonese Jews, who knew the Marranos at first hand, butjews who lived in countries to which the “returners” fled (such as Granada, Algiers and Morocco). Seeing in the newcomers lost brothers who were moved (or “awakened,” as they put it) to “return” to God, the rabbis of those countries wished to encourage the “returners” by facilitating their admission to the fold. The acceptance of these Marranos as Jews, however, raised legal prob¬ lems which had to be resolved; and it is from the discussions ol these problems that we can see how the conversos were viewed by the Jews, and what they actually had been religiously before the great persecution. What we first gather from these discussions is that the conversos were known to the Jews not as forced converts (i.e., secret Jews) but as real converts and full-fledged Christians. Indeed, if they had been viewed as forced converts, there would have been no problem about accepting them. Forced converts were regarded as full-fledged Jews in both the religious and the ethnic sense (that is, both as adherents ofjudaism and members of the Jewish people), and therefore their return to open Jewish life involved no procedural difficulty. Moreover, even Jews who were converted voluntarily (and hence viewed as Jews in the ethnic sense only) could reembrace Judaism, if they chose to do so, without encountering any obstacle in their path. All that was required oi the converts of both kinds (forced and voluntary alike) was formally to express their deep regret for their sin and perform the necessary penance.4 But the case of the conversos was quite different. Since they had been Christians for several generations and behaved as such both religiously and socially (and, in part, also in their marriages), there arose the question of their authentic Jewishness; and this moved most rabbis to regard the Marranos not only as real converts but also as gentiles—i.e., non-Jews both religiously and ethni¬ cally. Accordingly, they decreed that the Marranos could be admitted to the Jewish fold not as penitent Jews, but as alien infidels who wished to become Jews—and hence, as proselytes from the gentiles. Obviously, to qualify for this title, they had to undergo proselytization. This was the position of most rabbis in Spain who observed the Marranos from close range; this was the view of the rabbis in Morocco, as well as of most Spanish rabbis in the East (Egypt and Palestine).5 The minority that objected to this decision argued only against the gentilehood of the Marranos, not against the view that they had been real converts (or, for that matter, true

928]

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Christians). No one claimed that they had been secret Jews, either in their behavior or in their thought; and no one who defended them presented any proof, or even partial evidence, to this effect.6 Circumcision, for instance, could go a long way to demonstrate the Jewishness of the “returning” Marranos—or at least the Jewishness of their parents. But no one ever claimed that they had been circumcised—evidently, because no such claim could be made. The outcome of the debate on this question was that the “returning” Marranos were treated as gentiles and accepted into the Jewish fold only after proselytization.7 This was of course a far-reaching decision which could have, in effect, only one meaning. It meant that the majority of Spain’s Jews viewed the Marranos (taken as a whole) not only as followers of another religion, but also as members of another people. To them the Marranos appeared as complete aliens, totally cut off from the body of Jewry—a view that could in no way have been formed if the ranks of the Marranos had been teeming with Judaizers or even contained a substantial number of them. Yet if this was the state of Judaism among the Marranos, the claim that the Inquisition was established to suppress a widespread crypto-Jewish movement in their midst must be regarded as untrue. Moreover, this conclusion is not only implied in the evidence offered by the Jewish sources; it is explicitly stated by Hispano-Jewish scholars who wrote in the first decade of the Inquisition. Thus says Don Isaac Abravanel of the conversos: Even though they and their descendants will endeavor to be like complete gentiles, they will be unable to achieve this aim. For the native peoples of the lands [in which they live] will always call them “Jews,” mark them as “Israelites” against their will and falsely accuse them of Judaizing in secret—a crime for which they pay with death by fire.8 Four times in his writings Abravanel stresses the falsehood of the accusa¬ tions of heresy leveled at the New Christians,9 and claims that it was on the grounds of this excuse that the Inquisition “burned them by the thousands.” For our present purpose, which is to establish the facts—i.e., the Marranos’ religious attitudes—we need not analyze all the utterances on the subject to appreciate the full meaning of his testimony; we can see it even if we dwell a little longer on the contents of the above cited statement. Presenting the forecasts of the prophet Ezekiel (20.32), Abravanel speaks in this statement in the future tense, but he seeks to prove the veracity of those forecasts by what was happening in his own time.'0 And so we can gather clearly from his words that the conversos living in a Christian world were not merely affected by its culture and religion and yielded to the natural process of

THE

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assimilation, but consciously and willingly participated in that process (they "endeavored” to be like their Christian neighbors); what is more, this endeavor was by no means “recent,” but one that had persisted for generations without letup (for it was shared, as he said, by them and “their descendants”). Above all, the ultimate goal of that drive was not only to attain full Christianization, but also a state of complete gentilehood (they aspired to be like “complete gentiles”), which means also ethnic fusion with the non-Jews to the point of total disappearance. No wonder the conversos did not want to be designated either as “Jews” (religiously) or as “Israelites” (ethnically). These labels were attached to them coercively (“against their will”), as was the libel of their “heresy.”11 In making this claim about the falsehood of the charges the Inquisition leveled against the Marranos, and in viewing the Marranos as determined bearers of anti-Jewish attitudes and aspirations, Abravanel is not alone among the Hebrew authors of the time. Thus Isaac Arama, one of the luminaries of Hispano-Jewish scholarship toward the end of the iyth century, confirms Abravanel’s assessment in almost the same terms. Discussing the persecution of the conversos by the Inquisition during the 1480s, Arama says of the Marranos that although they assimilated with those nations completely, they will find no peace among them; for the nations will always revile and beshame them, plot against them and falsely accuse them in matters of faith. Indeed, they will always suspect them as Judaizers and subject them to tremen¬ dous dangers, as has been the case throughout this period of innova¬ tions, and especially in our time, when the smoke of the autos-da-fe has been rising toward the sky in all the kingdoms of Spain and the islands of the sea.12 This, then, was the view of the leading Jews of Spain concerning the Marranos persecuted by the Inquisition. They considered them completely assimilated and “removed from Judaism as far as one can be”13 and in no way representatives of a secret Jewish movement that the Inquisition had uncov¬ ered and punished. But even more telling than all these statements portray¬ ing the Marranos’ religious condition are the testimonies revealing the Jewish attitudes toward the Marranos at the height of the Inquisition’s perse¬ cution. In the decade preceding their own expulsion, the Jews of Spain witnessed the horrors and calamities to which the conversos were then subjected. This was a time when thousands of Marranos were burned at the stake, incarcerated and tortured, and many other thousands, stricken with panic, abandoned their homes and fled the country. It would seem that the appalling misery of the Marranos, their dreadful suffering and terrible mis-

93°

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fortunes should have evoked deep compassion for them by the Jews, their alleged “brethren in faith and in race.” But this is not what the testimonies show. What we find in thejewish sources of the time are cold-blooded assertions that the Marranos got their due, or open manifestations of glee over their “fall.” We find these attitudes and feelings expressed not only in the writings of such scholars as Caro, Saba, Jabez and Ibn Shuaib, but also in the works of Isaac Abravanel, whose judgment of the Marranos was more lenient and considerate than that of any other Jewish author of the time. This harshness in the face of overwhelming tragedy—and, even more so, that joy over its occurrence—can be explained only if the conversos were seen as real con¬ verts from Judaism and hence as renegades and traitors. Indeed, the writers mentioned define the Marranos, without reservation, as determined antago¬ nists of thejewish faith and as bitter enemies of thejewish people. The skeptical reader, who may find it hard to coordinate his own view of the Marranos (which may be akin to the traditional) with such an attitude toward them on the part of Spain’s Jews, is asked to note carefully the following testimony, which relates to the same subject. To justify the Jews’ happiness at the Marranos’ plight, two great scholars, Jabez and Ibn Shuaib, sought to free the Jews of the prohibition “Rejoice not when your enemy be fallen” (Prov. 24.17). According to Jabez, the cited prohibition referred to gentile enemies of the Jem (such as Haman!), but not to enemies of God like the New Christians. Of such enemies, he claims, the Book of Proverbs says: “When the wicked are lost, it is a cause for rejoicing14; and Ibn Shuaib reinforces the same interpretation by stressing that “the wickedness of these people [i.e., the conversos] is greater in our eyes than that of the gentiles.”15 The conclu¬ sion to be derived from all these testimonies with respect to the Marranos’ religious state is incontestable. Such gladness at the Marranos’ woes and such extreme hatred of the group as a whole could never have been expressed in the writings of these authors if most, or even a large part, of the Marranos were secret Jews. It is necessary, however, to bore somewhat deeper into the statements of the Hebrew authors in order to understand what they truly meant. Indubita¬ bly, what these authors had in mind were two different categories of enmity: one aimed at human beings, at the Jews as members of a particular people— an enmity of the kind found among the gentiles (and, in extreme form, in men like Haman); another is a purely spiritual enmity, a hatred of a religion, a divine teaching, and as such it is an “enmity for God.” Surely the conversos, however gentilized they appeared, and however inimical to thejewish peo¬ ple, were not accused of seeking the extermination of all Jews, “both young and old,” as did Haman, the arch-enemy of the Jews of all time. But they were accused of seeking the annihilation of Judaism as a set of beliefs that might

THE

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[ 9 3 1

be adopted by any people; and from this standpoint they were regarded by the Jews as “worse than the gentiles,” including Haman himself, who were viewed as concerned primarily with satisfying their “human” animosity for the Jews. Accordingly, the Marranos were seen not merely as real converts, who religiously were identified with Christianity, but as people who sought to substitute Christianity for the Judaism in which many Jews still believed. Perhaps what stood before the Jewish writers was the image of converts like Alfonso de Valladolid, Paul of Burgos and Joshua ha-Lorki, the leading missionary, militant converts whose writings were filled with hatred ofjudaism and whom the Jews regarded as teachers of apostasy and inspirers of all the conversos of Spain. In any case, from the standpoint of the final aim—i.e., the total extinction of Judaism—the Jews could see no fundamental differ¬ ence between the New Christians of the seventies and eighties and the most zealous converts of earlier generations. The Jews of Spain, who knew the Marranos from personal relations and close observation, had evidently no doubt then that the Spanish New Chris¬ tians had reached in the seventies, on their road toward assimilation, as Arama put it, the “point of no return.” The aforecited sources and many others that support them referred, as we have indicated, to the bulk of the Marranos, or rather the Marranos considered as a group. From this fact we concluded—inescapably, in our opinion—that the Judaizers among them were too feeble a minority to affect the overall picture. But let us try to be more precise in this matter, and also touch on another important point that bears directly on our conclusions. That there were some Jewish pockets among the Marranos in the sixties, and probably in the seventies too, may be taken for granted. We have indicated this fact on the basis of the Hebrew sources that refer to them here and there; but from the same sources, coming mostly from the eighties, we can learn of their paucity in absolute numbers and, even more so, of their relative insignificance. The statements we have cited about the attitude of the Jews toward the Marranos punished by the Inquisition indicate that, in their assessment of the conversos, the group of the Judaizers made no difference. For whatever the strength of the Judaizers was, we must assume that propor¬ tionately they were more numerous among the victims of the Inquisition than in any other segment of the Spanish Marranos; hence, if their total number was substantial, they should have certainly constituted among those punished by the Inquisition a significant part that could not be overlooked. But this is not what we gather from the Jewish authors, who treat all those burned at the stake as renegades and enemies. Evidently, the Judaizers among them were too few to affect their general judgment. We have to come back to Isaac Abravanel to confirm directly this farreaching conclusion, which collides so violently with the claims of the

93* ]

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Inquisition and of all who rely on them as “confirmed facts.” Obviously, if Abravanel had believed or assumed that a notable number of the victims of the Inquisition were secretjews, and not Christians accused falsely, he would have expressed his admiration—or, at least, commiseration—for the martyrs who paid with their lives for their faith. He would certainly have treated them as a group apart. But we find no such reaction in Abravanel. The fires of the Inquisition move him only to observe that the fate of those burned confirms the verdict promised such people by Holy Writ: For the wicked will be cut of from the land and the traitors uprooted from its midst.”'6 Thus, all the Marranos burned at the stake were viewed by Abravanel not as crypto-Jews, as devotees of Judaism and martyrs for their faith, but as traitors to their religion like all rtW converts, and also betrayers and deserters of their people, since they wished to “intermingle” with the gentile nations and be cut off from the tribe of Israel. Hosea, he added, indicated in his prophecy how such assimilationists would end their career: “they will be exposed to fire like a cake unturned. ”17 And this is what befell the Marranos. It is futile to attempt to misinterpret these testimonies or take their clear message out of context or minimize their revolutionary impact upon our hitherto accepted views of the Marranos. Nor does it make sense to disregard them. Expressed in unmistakable terms by the foremost Jewish authorities of the period, they can neither be misconceived nor ignored. They show us not only the rise and progress of the trend toward Christianity among the Marranos, but also the climax it reached in their assimilation and alienation from the Jewish people. Accordingly, we must conclude that by 1480—i.e., when the Inquisition was established—the Marranos were by and large Christianized; and if a remnant ofjudaizers still survived among them, it was steadily decreasing both in number and influence, and posed no danger to the Christianity of Spain, or of the New Christians. Hence, there was no justifi¬ cation whatever to label the whole group as tainted with Judaism, and certainly no need to launch against it the massive assault of the Inquisition.

Ill

Our attention will now turn to the documents produced by the conversos themselves on their religious condition, or rather on their position toward Judaism and Christianity. This should have been high on the agenda of all students of the conflict between Old and New Christians. After all, it is the conversos who formed the storm center of the controversy about their faithfulness to Christianity, it is they who were accused so long and so vehemently of harboring a festering Judaic heresy, and it would seem only natural—indeed essential—for scholars to find out what the accused Mar¬ ranos had to say about the charges made against them. Yet strangely enough,

THE

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no such interest was displayed for a very long time. In almost all the writings about the Marranos and the Inquisition, we can see how the assertions about the “Judaism” of the conversos were systematically repeated as gospel truth, without reference to even a single converso statement expressing the Mar¬ ranos’ view of those assertions. Indeed, it would seem as if the court of history judged the Marranos in absentia. It was a court in which only their enemies had a say. The Marranos’ self-defense was never heard. Did they have anything to say in their defense? For hundreds of years their testimonies lay buried in the archives of Spain, France and the Vatican, with no one bothering to examine or reveal them. And thus for centuries many histories were written about the struggle of the Inquisition against the Marrano heretics without taking those testimonies into account. Only in 1873 was one of these documents—the “Instruction of the Relator to the Bishop of Cuenca”—published for the first time by Fermfn Caballero; but it does not seem that the crucial evidence it contains made a dent in scholarly opinion. Several years later (in 1876), there appeared the third volume of Amador de los Rios’ History of the Jews in Spain and Portugal; but we find no sign in it that he noticed the main thrust of that work, or that his views of the conversos were affected by it. So deep-rooted was the view of the Marranos held by all preceding historians that even the most original thinkers and researchers could not escape its influence. Even Henry Charles Lea, the great historian of the Inquisition, who knew the Relator’s “Instruction” and cited it,18 failed to discern its peculiar importance as testimony to the Marranos’ religious condition, and the name of its author is not even mentioned in his great and copious work. And what is more amazing: F. I. Baer, who does mention Fernan Diaz in his book of Spanish documents (1930), refers to him only as signatory of royal papers and classes him as an Old Christian!19 To be sure, some twenty years later Baer recognized his error and wrote that “recently it had been discovered that the Relator was a Marrano,” but even then he devoted to him only two lines.20 Nor did the position of the historians change materially when Cartagena’s Defensorium de unitatis christianaevras published in 1943 and Juan de Torquemada’s Tractatus contra Madianitas appeared in 1957. To be sure, certain aspects of some of these works were discussed in several scholarly studies; but the thrust of their arguments and the great message they contained for students of the history of the Marranos and the Inquisition remained in effect unnoticed, as if it were only of marginal relevance to the issues involved. Curiously enough, the attempt to recognize the Marranos—not necessar¬ ily as portrayed by the Inquisition, but as reflected in their own writings began from the historians of literature, who delved into Marrano belles-lettres, and especially into converso poetry. In this area, the contribu¬ tions of Americo Castro, Francisco Marquez Villanueva, Cantera Burgos and

934 ]

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other important scholars did much to unveil the true face of the converso who was culturally integrated into the Old Christian society and later lived in dread of the Inquisition. Yet Marrano poetry, though holding many clues to the image of the converso literary elite, could not by itself offer an answer to the question of the religious posture of the group. To obtain such an answer, the inquiry had to focus on direct Marrano testimonies concerning this question, and therefore to extend into the polemical and historical writings of the Marranos, where such testimonies are included.

1 hat is indeed what

we have tried to do. Of the two groups of sources just mentioned, the polemical works are by far the more important, for they deal exclusively with the converso problem, discuss it at length and in great detail and touch on many aspects of the converso situation, including the religious one which commands our atten¬ tion. Unfortunately, only three of these works have come down to us, but they are all of outstanding importance.21 They were all written by leading representatives of Spanish literature, law and theology; and their authors were also men of the world, who occupied high positions in the Church, as well as in the royal Court of Castile. Their testimonies therefore have not only the authority of great men of learning, but also of outstanding historical figures who took part in the battles of their time. These authors knew from their own experience what was happening in Spanish society, the forces that stirred its various movements, and the motives that drove its leaders and its masses to act as they did. We have already analyzed the views, arguments and factual data included in these works, and shall now present a brief summary of what they say concerning the Marranos’ religious attitudes. As we have seen, their authors are unanimous on the main question at issue. All of them agree that the converso community, taken as a whole, was devoutly Christian and happy to be so, until it became the object of vicious persecution and wild calumny by unscrupulous foes. So Christianized indeed were the Marranos in their own eyes that they failed to see why they should be called New Christians. Accordingly, they branded the charges of heresy leveled against their group as libelous concoctions produced by enemies who sought their ruin and wished to hurt their standing in the Christian world.

1 hey openly admitted

that some followers ofjudaism might still exist among them here and there, but insisted that they were so few and insignificant that in no way could they characterize their group. To label the whole converso camp crypto-Jewish because of such a small minority, they said, is tantamount to labeling a whole society “criminal” because some of its members have committed crimes. To be sure, the conversos’ apologists noted that a Toledan “Inquiry” into their alleged Jewishness found them guilty on many counts; but the apolo-

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gists regarded this “Inquiry” too as an instrument of the campaign launched against their group. In the same light they saw the Toledan tribunals estab¬ lished to judge converso “heretics.” The judges, they claimed, were hostile and unqualified, the witnesses false and their testimonies fraudulent; accord¬ ingly, the trials against the Marranos in Toledo were founded on no proof, no evidence, and no law. They were a travesty of justice. The common position of the converso spokesmen, who declared the Marranos to be true Christians and denied that they harbored a large-scale heresy, is corroborated by other Marrano testimonies included in contempo¬ rary historiographic works. Produced in the first decade after the rebellion of ’49, these works were written or edited by Marranos who, directly or in¬ directly, tell us what they knew of the rebels’ persecution of the Marranos. According to these testimonies, the conversos were accused of crimes and transgressions that “had never entered their minds,” and consequently, the conversos were “robbed, killed and burned” for no justifiable reason. They further tell us that in support of their charges, the accusers employed some perverse individuals (“malefactores,” as they are called in the sources) to bear false witness against the conversos; and thus they confirm the claims of the Marrano apologists regarding the criminal nature of the Toledan prosecution and the means employed by its promoters. Thus, the religious charges leveled at the Marranos were exposed as false by the Marrano publicists and historians—first by presenting the actual situation, which was the opposite of what their enemies claimed, and second, by pointing to the origins of those charges, which were malice, jealousy and deep-rooted hatred. But besides this denial of the religious censures on the basis of the current facts, they rejected them on the basis of their conceptual grasp of their own religious position. This rejection helps us assess the depth and breadth of the Marranos’ Christianity; it also sheds light on the Mar¬ ranos’ world outlook and enables us to see how the conversos viewed them¬ selves as Christians in a Spanish society. We have already touched on some of the reasons offered by the conversos of the middle of the century for their stern objection to being called New Christians, let alone converts to Christianity. Based on the dates of their ancestors’ conversion and of their own baptism to Christianity, these reasons of course made sense. But the conversos advanced additional arguments in support of that objection—and not only for the purpose of removing a stigma which had long been attached to their name. In our Marranos of Spain we have already referred to some of the sociopsychological problems with which the Spanish conversos were beset.22 But perhaps the most irritating of these was created by the view that universally prevailed among thejews, according to which no Jew in his right mind could abandon Judaism out of conviction that any other religion was superior to his

936]

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own. Consequently, the Jews viewed the converts as perverts—as corrupt individuals who, for some reason, developed a grudge against their people and its faith, or as hunters for gain, opportunists and careerists, or, at best, as moral weaklings who could not withstand the stresses and storms of the “exile.” This, in brief, was the general attitude that the Jewish convert faced from the Jewish side. But it ought to be pointed out with due emphasis that it was not limited to the Jewish side alone. The Christians, who noticed that most Jewish converts adopted Christianity under threat of death, could hardly consider such converts sincere; nor could they regard as genuine the converts who had been at loggerheads with the Jewish community (for financial or other non-religious reasons) before they crossed the line between the faiths. Indubitably, Jewish agitation, too, contributed to inculcate such views among the Christians; and the latter, reluctant to absorb the converts for powerful social and economic reasons, were quick to seize on the Jewish claims and call the converts “turncoats.” As we have indicated above, these descriptions did not fit the great major¬ ity of the Spanish conversos in the middle of the fifteenth century. They could be applied, on objective grounds, to most of the voluntary converts among the Jews, whose number was always very limited, but not to the voluntary conversion movement that emerged from the masses offorced converts in Spain, and certainly not to their children and grandchildren—i.e., their second and third generations—who were born or educated in Christendom. Yet regardless of truth, old labels, like libels, when backed by strong interest and nursed by ill will, are hard to remove, let alone destroy; and ultimately the conversos were forced to realize that they had here a problem to cope with. In response to this problem the conversos fashioned an ideology that served them on two fronts: against the Jews and against the Old Christians. Their argument against the Jews was based on the claim that actually they were not converts at all; consequently, they were not traitors to their people or religion; nor were they “turncoats” or “newcomers” to Christianity. Essen¬ tially, as they put it, they remained “at home,” still considering holy what the Jews considered holy—the same Patriarchs and Prophets, and even the same Law. Consequently, what differentiates them from the professing Jews is not the Marrams' abandonment of the Law (for, in fact, they have not abandoned it at all), but their better and clearer understanding of it (that is, of its covert and implied meaning). This is how they came to believe in Christ, who likewise did not abandon the Law, but adhered to it and came to fulfill it. Thus, it is not they who relinquished the true faith but the Jews, who, failing to grasp its allusions, distorted the meaning of the sacred prophecies. Hence it is they, the so-called converts, who have come to represent the true teachings of Judaism; yet by becoming real Jews, they automatically became real Christians.

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[ 937

The idea was fundamentally not new, of course. It was all of a piece with the theory of true Israel, propounded by Paul and propagated ever since. The real Israel consists of those people who grasp the full meaning of the pro¬ phetic teachings—who are Israel according to the spirit and not necessarily according to the flesh. Thus it is only part of the carnal Israelites (i.e., the part that came over to Christianity) that may likewise be so defined. What was nevertheless new in the concept of the Marranos was the emphasis that their group represented a continuity between “ethnic” Israel and “spiritual” Israel, and that the ethnic Israelites who accepted Christianity needed no “conver¬ sion” as the gentiles did, for they did not have to acquire the foundations of Christianity—the belief in one God, the Law and the Prophets—but only to extend these foundations somewhat further or, more correctly, grasp the full content of the writings which they had regarded as true and sacred. By virtue of this fact an Israelite in the flesh—who, like all such Israelites, is reared on Holy Writ—is always potentially a true Israelite; and when he becomes one in fact, it should be viewed as an outcome of a natural evolution, and not as a conversion (which is a revolution) of the kind that occurs among the gentiles. Thus the conversos turned the tables on their Old Christian enemies, just as they did on their foes among the Jews. As “non-converts,” who remained where they were—i.e., in their own home—they could not be viewed as “turncoats” and intruders but rather as old and most respected “citizens.” The concept of converts, or sons of converts, is now attributed, conversely, to the gentiles, and it is they who are historically the “newcomers” to the “house”—i.e., the “home”—of the Israelites, the real Israelites, who are truly the Old Christians, and not vice versa.2i But this was not all that this view conveyed. By portraying themselves as closer to the traditions of the older part of the Sacred Heritage than the gentiles who became Christians, they were, as de Lyra claimed, more prepared than the latter to grasp the full meaning of the ancient prophecies; and thus by better comprehending the Old Testament, they could better understand the New. Consequently, they belonged not to the lower ranks but to the intellectual elite of Christendom; and while most of their Christian friends described them as good Christians despite their Jewish past, they themselves claimed to be better Christians— better in the purely religious sense—precisely because of their Jewish back¬ ground. We have said that by means of this set of concepts the conversos sought to alter or erase their unfavorable image as religious impostors, which was created by theirjewish and Christian adversaries and accompanied them like a shadow. But that set of concepts, which they boldly proclaimed, was to them more than a means to an end. It was an ideology that sprang from their world outlook, from their deepest convictions and religious feelings and,

938]

THE

origins

of

the

inquisition

curiously enough, was supported by their awareness of the low-quality religious beliefs of the vast majority of the Old Christians. The conversos certainly could not be impressed by criticisms of their religious sincerity— criticisms hurled at them by their foes—when they knew that the Old Christian masses around them were far less at home in Christian literature— and far less trained to understand Christian dogma, Christian symbolism and Christian philosophy—than many of their own members. In fact, they were certain that their own Christianity was far purer, nobler and more in accord with the letter and spirit of the teachings of Christ, of the Apostles and the Church Fathers than that upheld by their hate-filled enemies, who were besmirching their name and crying for their blood. Likewise, their references to the “great men” they had produced—to canonists like Torquemada, to theologians like Cartagena, to mendicant saints like Pedro Regalado24—were made not only to impress their adversaries, as well as their friends among the Old Christians, but also to assure and convince themselves that they could match the best that Christianity had created in their time and place. If, therefore, we sum up the conversos’ view of their own religious posi¬ tion, we can see that they not only denied as ludicrous the charges about their inclination toward Judaism, and vehemently rejected as libel the claim that they harbored a large-scale Jewish heresy; they also proclaimed their faith in Christianity as the one true religion that mankind must adopt and the one on whose expansion and triumph they pinned their most cherished hopes.

IV

If each of the two groups of sources just surveyed (the Jewish and the Marrano) leads fundamentally to one conclusion—namely, that the bulk of the Marrano group was Christian—the relevant evidence of the Old Chris¬ tian sources does not suggest such uniformity. Rather does it reveal two distinct trends which are clearly opposed to each other: one exhibiting a pro-converso attitude, and the other an and-converso one. As such they come up with different answers to the question with which we are concerned. The testimonies of the first group comprise four important statements, three dating from the period of Juan II and one from that of Enrique IV. Their authors were all men of renown who attained great distinction in their respective fields. They were Lope de Barrientos, Diaz de Montalvo, Perez de Guzman and Alonso de Oropesa. For an Old Christian to defend the conversos against their maligners on religious grounds must already have been an unenviable task at the beginning of the forties. It became increasingly difficult in the fifties and sixties, and in the seventies too risky—or too hopeless—to attempt. So charged with preju¬ dice and hatred of the conversos had the social atmosphere in Castile become

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that any Old Christian, however respected, who took up the cudgels on their behalf soon became a target of slurs and aspersions, or even of rumors that he was a converso or of semi-converso descent. This is what happened to Lope de Barrientos, and later to Alonso de Oropesa, and both had to put matters straight to protect their integrity and their good name. Perez de Guzman, more cautious than the others, preempted the expected attacks against him by paying homage to the conversos’ critics and by framing his positive evaluations of the conversos in moderate, low-key terms. Guzman did not deny the possibility that there were “some” non-Catholics among the conversos, but he objected to the tendency of their detractors to turn the possibility into a certainty and extend the existence of “some’ heretics to the whole converso group. Guzman had no doubt that converts to Christianity who grew up from infancy in another religion—and espe¬ cially those who were forced to be baptized—could not cleave to their new religion like those who were born and bred in it. He was, however, certain that the young children of the converts, and all the more so their childrens’ offspring, were bound to become “Catholic and firm in the faith.

His own

acquaintance with converso friars, prelates and reformers of religious orders could only confirm this conviction, as could the behavior of many children of Christians who were converted to Islam. Guzman also noted that no actual charge of religious infidelity had thus far been brought against any converso, and he marveled at the audacity of the conversos’ critics who, without concretely accusing any one, did not hesitate to condemn them all. Guzman concluded his defense of the Marranos with the loaded remark that the anti-Marrano censures seemed to result from a “desire to malign rather than a zeal to correct.” Much more outspoken in his defense of the conversos and much sharper in reproaching their opponents was Lope de Barrientos, bishop of Cuenca, who witnessed the persecution of the Marranos in Toledo during Sarmiento’s rebellion. Barrientos had been in close touch with the conversos and observed the growth of hostility against them long before that revolt took place. He no doubt heard that the Marranos were accused of harboring sympathizers or practitioners of Judaism, but his own assessment of their religious attitudes led him to say that their group “belonged to God” (i.e., Christ). What he saw of their behavior during the Toledan disturbances only confirmed him in this opinion and, in fact, excited his admiration for them. He marveled at their steadfastness in the Christian faith in the face of grim adversity, and he would not be surprised if, under the impact of their ordeal, “some” of the conversos were inclined to leave the faith. He believed, however, that such desertions would be few and only emphasize by their paucity the wholesomeness of the group. Finally, Barrientos censured the attempt to discriminate against the con-

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versos on the ground of their race. Theologically, he claimed, the racists’ theory runs counter to the teachings of Christianity, and practically it is absurd because no part of the Spanish people is known to be free of Jewish blood. St. Isidore, in his Etymologies, Barrientos noted, said: "All the Jews of Spain were Christians at the time of one of the Gothic Kings, and “who in our time can tell who is [or is not] of their descendants?”25 But apart from all this, the racial view must be held as contemptible by all Christians, because it is steeped in scorn for the race that gave the world the Holy Virgin Mary and the incarnate Son of God. Barrientos exhorts the detractors of the conversos to stop using their “sacrilegious and vicious tongues” against the race of the Jews and the conversos, which he calls “divine.”26 Diaz de Montalvo approached the defense of the conversos from a differ¬ ent angle. Starting from the premise that, generally speaking, the conversos were faithful and devoted Christians, Montalvo sought to establish the causes of the “hate and vengeance” that inspired their enemies. He concluded that these feelings were nourished by two sources—a yearning for the earthly goods of the conversos (which their enemies presumed could be wrested from their hands) and a growing thirst for exclusive power (which would exclude the Marranos from government). To satisfy these passions, the foes of the conversos proposed a series of anti-Marrano measures, which they tried to justify by various arguments. These arguments, however, are clearly anti-Christian; in fact, they are heretical. The claim that the anti-Marranos are heretics is the recurrent theme of Montalvo’s treatise. Thus he threw the charge hurled at the New Christians back in the face of the accusers. There is indeed a heretical movement in Spain; but it should not be looked for among the innocent conversos. The real heretics are the conversos’ enemies, who deny every major tenet of Christianity and try to appear as guardians of the faith. In fact, they are the worst of all heretics; they are schismatics. And Montalvo sees no other way to deal with them except the one applied to all other schismatics: They must be “extirpated” from the ranks of the Church. No less spirited in his defense of the Marranos and even more censorious of their detractors was Alonso de Oropesa, General of the Hieronymites, whose great work on the Old-New-Christian conflict contains the most reliable evaluation we possess of the religious condition of the conversos. To Oropesa, the Marranos taken as a whole are true and full-fledged “brethren in faith,” worthy to be “co-inheritors and co-citizens of the Apostles and the Prophets.” He considers them a fitting extension of the Jewish conversion movement to Christianity—a movement which, from the days of the Apos¬ tles, made an incalculable contribution to the faith. Oropesa rates the Jewish convert to Christianity higher than the gentile one insofar as his ability to aid the faith is concerned, but this, he asserts, does not give the Jewish convert

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the right to be treated preferentially. The Church’s attitude toward all its members is based on the principle of complete equality, a principle from which it cannot depart. The persecution of the conversos in Spain, says Oropesa, represents not only a departure from that principle but its reversal, and as such it is anti-Christian. Unlike Barrientos, who considered the presence ofjudaizers in Castile only a “possibility,” Oropesa regarded it as a reality. The conversos do include a minority ofjudaizers, but it is too small to affect the character of the group and too indefinite in its beliefs to form a real heresy. Neverthe¬ less, while the Judaizers in themselves do not pose a threat to Christianity, indirectly they have caused the faith great harm. For the anti-Marranos used the presence of the Judaizers as an excuse and a stimulus for their agitation. They have grossly inflated the Judaizers’ numbers, exaggerated their influ¬ ence, and identified them with the whole converso group—or at least with its vast majority. Oropesa examined all the arguments advanced by the Marranos’ foes in support of their position and found them all wanting or worthless. He presented his views with great clarity and precision, but had little faith in their possible impact on the anti-Marrano movement. No one knows better than the leaders of this movement that they operate with lies and falsehoods, he averred, and no one is as aware as they are of the criminal aims for which they invented them. Like virtually all other apologists of the conversos, Oropesa saw the roots of the anti-Marrano drive in the terrible jealousy of the conversos that agitated the minds of many Old Christians; and he be¬ lieved that nothing that anyone might say could change the latter’s course of action. Oropesa concluded that what could stop these miscreants was only the employment of repressive measures. And these must aim at the following three goals: (a) silencing the agitation; (b) ousting the agitators from all their offices; and (c) divesting them of all authority. But Oropesa went even further. He called for the excommunication of the agitators from the Church and their total exclusion from Christian society. Unless this is done, Oropesa warned, the terrible turbulence in Christendom will continue, and peace and quiet will never return to the ranks of the faithful. Having summarized the evidence of these outstanding men, who repre¬ sented different spheres of activity, we can see that their testimonies essen¬ tially tallied and that, in one way or another, their evidence concurred with that of thejewish and converso sources. We have reason to believe that their statements reflect not only their personal views on the conversos, but also those of the circles to which they belonged and, to some extent, of the broader social spheres of which those circles formed a part. Thus Barrientos and Oropesa expressed, in all likelihood, the position of many of the Church’s elite; Montalvo, the view of most leading jurists; and Guzman, the

942]

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attitude of most of Spain’s nobles, especially of the intellectuals who be¬ longed to the upper crust. Altogether, however, their opinions were upheld by a minority of the Spanish people. The vast majority remained open to the influences flowing from the camp of the Marranos’ foes.

V

Our attention will now turn to the documents produced in the middle of the century by the anti-Marrano movement, and we shall focus, to begin with, on the statements that refer to the Marranos’ religious stand. Here we have noted the recurring claim that the Spanish Marranos were mostly crypto-Jews who adhered to Jewish beliefs and rites. And here we also find that this claim was accompanied by a theory concerning the motives and beginnings of Marrano crypto-Judaism in Spain. One assumes that there could be no division of opinion on this particular subject. Everyone seems to have known the reasons for the mass conversions of the Jews: the threat of being slaughtered by the pogromists (in 1391) and the danger of perishing from hunger and exposure (following the laws of 1412). Thus those who were converted under either of these threats were essen¬ tially forced converts, and they formed the vast majority ofthejews who went over to Christianity in those years (1391—1418). But even the minority, who could not be so classed, were mostly impelled by strong pressures. When some of the rich did not see any way to retain their wealth or great income as Jews, conversion was to them not a coveted goal, but a lesser evil than a life of poverty. Other Jews, too, who came to view the situation of the Jewish people as hopeless, took up Christianity not with relish, but like a defeated army that lays down its arms when it sees no sense in continued resistance. Thus, the minority of the converts not truly forced were not really voluntary either. These were the causes of the movement of conversion that within some three decades transferred to Christianity hundreds of thousands of Spanish Jews. Elsewhere, we have spoken of the religious crisis that affected Jewish thinking at the time and no doubt facilitated that transfer.27 But we have also made it clear that this religious crisis, insofar as the masses were concerned, resulted directly from the social situation, and could not in any case by itself bring about a large-scale conversion ofjews to Christianity. It played a part, as we have indicated, in accelerating the assimilation of the Jewish converts of 1391 and 1412. But it had nothing to do with the major causes of the original conversion. Yet these causes, which the Spaniards of the time, both Jews and Chris¬ tians, were presumably aware of, seem to have been conveniently ignored by

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the conversos’ foes and detractors. Thus, if we go by the theories of Garcia, chief critic of the Marranos in the middle of the fifteenth century, Spain had known neither the massacres of 1391 nor the laws of 1412; and so the Spanish Jews had never had to choose between death and conversion. Hence, those of them who asked to be baptized to Christianity were under no compulsion to do so; and thus they did it of their own free choice. But the choice was not made out of preference for Christianity, but rather out of their hatred for it and all its devoted followers. Garda must have realized that the ascription of such a motive to the passing of masses ofjews to Christianity—and hence to the birth of Marranism in Spain—would be utterly incredible to all right-thinking people, and that his thesis would be met with the biting question: Why did Jews convert voluntarily to a religion they so deeply hated and abhorred? Garcia’s answer was, as we have seen, that thejews became Christians to dominate Christen¬ dom. Their plan was to conquer Christian society from within by seizing all its positions of power and then, by means of those positions, to exploit the Christian masses to the point of exhaustion. Finally, when these masses collapse, their faith will expire with them, and this is how Judaism will achieve its triumph over the hated religion. Garcia found it easy to combine these claims with the charge that most of the Marranos were Judaizers. Since the Jews were converted for a purely Jewish purpose, their conversion was a strictly mechanical act that did not alter their religious attitudes. They remained devotees of Judaism after their conversion precisely as they had been before it, except that now they prac¬ ticed Judaism secretly instead of following it openly. Their Christianity served them as a mask to hide their face—a prerequisite for the success of their scheme. Every wrong theory that gains popularity contains elements whose falsity is hard to discern. Garcia’s theory was no exception; but one would think that the falsehood of at least one of its elements was glaringly obvious. For the claim that the Jews converted willingly to Christianity with the intent of living secretly as Jews contains a blatant contradiction in terms. To be sure, if the Marranos were forced converts who sought to perform the Command¬ ments clandestinely, they could be regarded as true Jews, since Jewish tradi¬ tion, law and custom would tolerate violation of the Law under duress; but if they converted of their own free will, and worshiped a “foreign God” voluntarily, they would be considered by the Jews as apostates, and no positive intention could justify their conduct and permit them to be regarded as Jews. Of course, the whole distinction was purely imaginary; for no Jew could be considered faithful to the Lave and its voluntary violator at one and the same time. And if there was a Jew who so regarded himself, for whatever

944

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bizarre reason, certainly such a view could not be imposed, upheld and followed, by masses of people. Yet the converts from Judaism to Christianity in Spain numbered hundreds of thousands. That such a theory, so brazenly inconsistent, so openly contradictory of Jewish law, and indeed nonsensical from every point of view, could be propounded by the enemies of the Marranos shows how distorted was their thinking and how perverted the attitude of the Christian audiences to whom their preposterous claims were addressed. For there is no doubt that the agitators believed that those audiences would accept their fanciful exposi¬ tions of the anti-Christian goals of the Marranos, just as they believed they would accept their account of the genesis of Marranism in Christian Spain. Thus they often repeated these fables, embellishing them with additional absurdities which were likewise believed and upheld. But absurdities related to public issues are usually invented to meet certain needs, and this was the case with the trumped-up tale about the root of Marranism in Spain. There was a need to relieve the Old Christians of responsibility for the massive conversions caused by coercion and at the same time assert with redoubled force that the Jews had converted not only insincerely, but with a vicious design. Thus, all moral scruples were removed from the path leading to the punishment of the accused. All that was now needed was to offer some data in support of the charge that the conversos were Jews, and such data could presumably be provided by the customs of the Judaizers still present among the conversos. That the number of these Judaizers was small and dwindling, that their customs were becoming more and more vestigial, did not matter very much in this instance. The aforemen¬ tioned theories about the origins of Marranism, its aims, and, above all, its double life—namely, that the Marranos lived their Judaism underground— had prepared the way for the acceptance of the view that almost all Marranos were Judaizers. If the theory propounded about the origins of Marranism, its immediate plans and ultimate aims, was based on nothing but an absurd myth, the evidence offered to prove its actual existence was based on no lesser absurdi¬ ties. This is strikingly apparent from the religious views attributed to the Marranos by their opponents in the Sentencia (at the start of their campaign against the Marrano “heresy”). It is hard to believe that the authors of the Sentencia did not know that nothing was more alien tojudaism than any form of idolatry or any theory postulating the existence of two divinities. In presenting these views as typical or indicative of the Marranos’ religious trends, the authors of the Sentencia had obviously relied on the ignorance of their audience and its blind hatred of the Marranos, which would lead it to believe anything against them, however ludicrous or grotesque. Contributing to the spread of such beliefs was the violent campaign then

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conducted in Castile by the shrewd Franciscan agitator Alfonso de Espina. Espina, as we have seen, attacked the conversos both directly (by defining them as Jews) and indirectly (by ascribing to the Jews the most horrid practices). Yet while denigrating the Jews as he did, Espina made every possible effort to identify the conversos with the Jews. To prove this identifi¬ cation of the Jews and the conversos he pointed—on the authority of the Toledan Inquiry—to many customs common to both groups. He wanted, however, to bolster that authority by evidence (which he found hard to get), and concentrated on proving one charge of the Inquiry (namely, that the conversos practiced circumcision) which, more than all other charges, he thought, would demonstrate the Marranos’Jewishness. We have shown that his claims on this score were denied not only by Jewish and converso sources, but also by unimpeachable Old Christian testimonies dealing with that particular accusation. Espina, however, kept repeating the charge, undoubtedly believing that the force of repetition would produce the effect of convincing evidence and finally implant in the public mind the notion that the conversos were practicing circumcision. Since this is the only charge against thejudaizers mounted by Espina on the basis of his own “findings,” and since so much was made of his attestations, it is worthwhile to consider here the evidence adducible from the records of certain occurrences. In 1449, during the rebellion of Sarmiento, the rebels hanged the bodies of several conversos they had killed in a skirmish with a New Christian force, exposing them to the public in the city’s central square. Among those thus killed and hanged was the leader of the conversos in Toledo, Juan de Cibdad, of whose religious attitudes we hear nothing until many years after the rebellion. What we hear then is that, in the wake of Juan’s death, some of his descendants left Spain for another land, where they lived openly as Jews. In view of the grueling experiences they had undergone, such an action by Juan’s descendants is of course hardly surprising. But from this fact the Toledans deduced that not only Juan’s relations had been crypto-Jews but also Juan de Cibdad himself. The deduction was of course faulty, but it shows how anxious the Toledans were to prove that the converso leader was a Judaizer. It need scarcely be said that if they could find on his body, and the bodies of his comrades who were hanged with him, any sign of circumcision, they would hasten to point out this fact as evidence of the Judaism of the hanged conversos (even though it could prove only the Judaism of their parents); but no such evidence could be found. We may also note that in 1449 a number of Marranos were delivered to the stake by a Toledan ecclesiastical tribunal, and Garcia, the rebel leader, sought to justify these executions by the Marranos’ alleged devotion to

946 ]

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Judaism. He would use every sign and symptom he could think of to substan¬ tiate his allegation, but he could not tell us that the burned Marranos were found to have been circumcised. Similarly, in 1467, Fernando de la Torre, the chief of the conversos, and his brother Alvaro, who was a regidor, were hanged in Toledo during the outbreak of that year, and their naked bodies, like those of their predeces¬ sors, were exposed for days in the central square. On that occasion, too, the Toledans were looking for some evidence that might prove that the hanged leaders were Judaizers, and consequently we may assume that if either of them had been circumcised, the Toledans would not have kept silent about it. Nor could such a charge be made against the Marranos who were killed in Ciudad Real in 1449, in Toledo in 1467, or in Cordova in 1473. In Cordova especially, where the enemies of the Marranos loudly accused the Marranos of Judaism, the anti-Marranos were certainly interested in substantiating their charges. In the large-scale pogrom that broke out in that city, scores of Marranos were killed. Many of their bodies fell into the hands of their enemies, who would have been quick to point out that they were circumcised if this had been the case. But again, no mention was made of such evidence. For neither in Cordova nor in any other place where Marranos were killed, hanged, or stripped naked (like those murdered between Seville and Palma) could any evidence be offered that they were circumcised, as their detractors had claimed. This, to be sure, is an argument ex silentio; but here, considering the circumstances involved, it is as valid and forceful as any evidence could be. What is more, it is in full accord with Jewish and converso testimonies that were uttered on this subject expressis verbis.29. And thus we can safely dismiss the charge respecting the practice of Marrano circumcision. Our conclusion is that, rather than common, that practice was rare—so rare indeed that it fits the view we have formed of all other accusations made by the Toledan Inquiry concerning the Marrano heresy. For the sum total of our analysis of these accusations was that they were either absurd or based on feeble evi¬ dence or on no evidence at all (just on “notoriety”) or flatly denied by other sources whose credibility cannot be questioned. Only few of them were gross exaggerations of facts that could be applied to small groups of Judaizers whose presence in Spain in the fifties, and even later, need not be denied. If Espina, however, failed in his attempts to prove that the Marranos practiced Jewish law, he succeeded in spreading in Spain the belief that the Jews keep perpetuating devilish atrocities against their Old Christian neigh¬ bors, as well as in extending that accusation so as to apply it to the conversos too. We refer to the myths about Jewish religious crimes, such as ritual murder and Host desecration, and about Jewish attempts to kill masses of

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Christians by a variety of means, including black magic. The pesquisa, we should note, found it difficult or impossible to include these libels among the Marranos’ alleged crimes, and thus it only alluded to the probability that some conversos were involved in desecrating Hosts. Espina did not go beyond this allusion in so far as the conversos were concerned, but played up the crime of Host desecration to make it appear common among Jews, and ultimately also among the conversos, since he kept stressing that the latter are nothing but the Jews’ identical twins. Thus he achieved his aim of striking at the entire “Jewish” conglomerate. Espina’s strategy proved highly effective. In 1465 the report submitted by the Arbitration Committee on the state of the nation to King Enrique IV claimed that the Jews were habitually desecrating Hosts and were assisted in this practice by some “bad Christians”—a title which broadly hinted at conversos. And a few years later, in 1468, the Jews of Sepulveda were accused of ritual murder, the trial ending in 1471 in the conviction and execution of the accused (for the first time in Spanish history).29 What is more, in 1490, the Inquisition charged both conversos and Jews with plotting together the annihilation of all Christians by performing a conjuration with a human heart and a consecrated Host. This time the conversos were alleged to have provided both the consecrated wafer and the heart of a Christian child crucified on a Good Friday.30 One might think that such a libel could have been conceived, let alone insisted on, only by a group of madmen. Yet it was organized, worked out, and proclaimed as true by the highest ecclesiastical tribunal in Spain; eight people were executed for it; and a child from one of three alleged places, who was never missed and never identified, was de¬ clared to have been martyred near the town of La Guardia and soon recog¬ nized as saint by large sections of the people. How could such a thing happen in Castile, which had never fallen prey to such preposterous fatuities? It could happen because the social atmosphere of the country had been pre¬ pared for it by Espina’s campaign. That so many modern scholars and historians accepted Espina’s assertions as valid, and as mirroring Marrano life, must partly be related to the antiJewish bias that lingered in the minds of more than a few researchers, however critical and sharp-sighted. But in part the explanation may lie in certain circumstances related to the inquiry under consideration: the Jewish sources on the Marranos were ignored or misread; the Marranos testimonies were buried in the archives; and the most important documents of Espina s predecessors (that is, of hate-mongers like Garcia) were likewise unknown to most historians. In such circumstances Espina’s Fortalitium—or its sections dealing with the New Christians—appeared as a rich source of information and, since he was taken to be a converso, also as an authentic source. Today, of course, we know better. We know that Espina was no New Christian and

948]

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had no inside knowledge of Marrano life; we know the real value of the pesquisa, on whose proceedings he drew so heavily; we also know that his other data were based on rumor, libel and myth—in fact, on the crudest myths spawned in the Middle Ages against the Jews and their beliefs. And above all, we know that he was filled with hate—the kind of hate that calls out constantly for vengeance and will stop at nothing to get what it wants. This is the hate that burned in Garcia, that fired the authors of the Petition and the Sentencia, of the satires we have analyzed and the anonymous anticonverso Coplas.il We class them all as unreliable witnesses—the most gener¬ ous, understated criticism we can apply to them.

Our summary of the 15th-century sources dealing with the religious posi¬ tion of the Marranos offers us, we believe, adequate ground for reaching definite conclusions. Two of the three bodies of literature produced by the groups involved in the controversy (i.e., those of Jewish and of Marrano origin) offer clear-cut evidence against the thesis that a widespread cryptoJewish movement existed within the Marrano camp. The testimonies of both groups so harmonize with each other that one can hardly find a discrepancy between them. They agree that Marrano Christianization was a fact, both theoretically and practically, and they further agree that the midcentury generation was already so deeply imbued with Christianity that it had no knowledge of the Jewish religion and no interest in its precepts. Similarly, they agree that the Judaizers formed a shrinking remnant of little conse¬ quence and that the charges against the Marranos on this score were moti¬ vated by non-religious drives. The two groups of sources—the Jewish and New Christian—are not equally articulate on the causes of these drives, but both suggest clearly that there was no religious reason for establishing the Inquisition. As for the works produced by Old Christians on the conversos’ religious position, we have seen that some of them, authored by such men as Barrien¬ tos and Guzman—men of great distinction in their respective fields—viewed the conversos in general as Christians and rejected as wild exaggeration the notion that all or most of them were heretics. Like the Marranos themselves, they freely recognized the possible existence ofjudaizers in Spain, but did not believe that their number comprised more than a nonrepresentative fraction. Thus, in many respects, their position on the question was either identical with that of the conversos or else very close to it; and hence we can align the sum total of their evidence with that offered by the conversos and the Jews. There remains, therefore, only one group of sources that supports the claim that the conversos were Judaizers, or harbored a Jewish underground

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so widespread that it might represent their majority. The authors of this single condemnatory group could not match in intellectual and moral stature those of the other three bodies of sources—an important consideration in choosing these sources as the foundation of our judgment. But as we have indicated, there is another reason that compels us to downgrade the antiMarrano writings and virtually exclude them from the group of records that can help us determine the Marranos’ religion. Because of the untruths they contain in such abundance—untruths both proven and self-evident—they are discredited by their own contents, and thus disqualified as bearers of witness. Inevitably, we remain with the information offered us by the other three sets of sources, whose clear-cut evidence is reinforced by the nature of the contrary assertions.

II. The Social-Economic Reasons i

Since the charges concerning the Marranos’ heresy proved so inflated and so imaginary, we must obviously look elsewhere for the sources of the movement that dictated the formation of the Inquisition. To be sure, false charges may often increase the force propelling movements of this sort; but to have a truly significant effect they must be accepted by great numbers of people; and such acceptance is conditioned by the presence of a wide¬ spread antipathy toward the maligned group. There can be no doubt that such an antipathy existed in Spain toward the conversos, but before going further we should determine its nature and the causes from which it sprang. We shall probably move closer to our goal if, from the outset, we view this antipathy as a veiled hostility which could be transformed, upon the slight¬ est provocation, into open enmity. We are looking then for the roots of a genuine feeling, generating both discomfort and resentment, which would steadily become more irritating and disturbing until in the end it exploded. To identify that feeling we shall now turn our attention to the other complaints against the Marranos—or rather to the nonreligious censures of their conduct, which, as we have noticed, were repeatedly expressed in the anti-Marrano literature of the time. Of these censures, we ought first to concentrate on the social-economic criticisms, because the Marranos themselves kept stressing, as we have seen, that the animosity toward them stemmed from the jealousy aroused by their social and economic successes. This is the view of the great apologists of the conversos—the Relator, Cartagena, and, in part, Torquemada1; and this is the view of the converso historians Diego de Valera and Fernando de Pulgar.2 But not only conversos were of this opinion. The Old Christian historian Alonso de Palencia3 seconded the views of Valera and Pulgar; and Old Christian ecclesiastics like Barrientos and Oropesa argued that social and economic jealousy was the root of the quarrel between the groups and the outrages perpetrated against the New Chris¬ tians.4 According to these testimonies, then, it was social-economic, rather than religious factors that fueled the attacks upon the conversos. And the same conclusion may be drawn from virtually all anti-Marrano writings, for these writings criticize the conversos for their alleged social and economic crimes just as frequently as they scold them for their alleged religious faults. What is more, the social-economic charges exceed the religious ones in both ferocity and vengefulness.

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We have already noted that until the middle of the 1460s, when Espina completed his Fortalitium, anti-Marrano literature rarely accused the conver¬ ses of religious crimes that had the nature of atrocities. Yet the crimes it attributed to them in the economic and social spheres were precisely of this nature. Accordingly, the charges in these fields are more sweeping and exaggerated than the religious accusations; and the invectives that accom¬ pany these charges are more vehement and scurrilous than any others in that literature. Unavoidably we are led to the conclusion that the social and economic activities of the conversos aroused a more passionate and implaca¬ ble hatred than did their alleged religious transgressions; and thus we may have here some proof of the claim that “envy” was the root of the enmity. To understand correctly what the claim implied and to what extent it conformed to the facts, we should go a little further into this matter. Obvi¬ ously, the “envy” under consideration suggests deep feelings of ill will and rancor which the “success” of the conversos—or, rather, their achieve¬ ments—stirred in some Old Christians toward the New. Yet similar or even greater successes of other Spanish groups (among the Old Christians) did not arouse such fierce jealousies, or any jealousies at all. It follows that in the case of the conversos, as in many other cases of economic envy, the ill will and rancor that met their achievements may have sprung from non-economic sources. We shall try to identify these sources—a difficult task in most cases of envy, whether individual or collective, but especially in cases of group jealousy, whose motives may be rooted in feelings and situations harking back to the remote past. What, then, were the origins of the group jealousy that so many Old Christians felt for the New? And what made that jealousy swell into a torrent so violent that it swept almost everything before it? If we are right in relating it mainly to the conversos’ social and economic achievements, the growth of the jealousy must have generally paralleled the greatness of those achieve¬ ments. Inevitably, this gives rise to the question: What was it in the economic and social gains of the conversos that could generate such fierce hatred for their group? Obviously, in order to answer this query, we must look at those gains of the conversos against the background of the society of which they formed a part.

II

There is no doubt that of all the conversos’ attainments in various socialeconomic fields, nothing so irked the Old Christians of Castile as their occupation of so many high offices in all four administrations of the country (the royal, nobiliar, clerical and urban), and there is also no doubt that the resulting irritation was felt most strongly in the cities, d he conversos grow-

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ing influence in Castile’s urban administrations became therefore the focus of Old Christian resentment and was increasingly felt as a festering wound in the unhealthy relationships that developed between the groups. Accord¬ ingly, our remarks on the social aspects of these relationships will first touch on what seems to have been the key issue in the conflict between the Old and New Christians in Spain. The first thunderous evidence of the resentment referred to was given in Toledo in 1449, when the rebel party which then governed the city issued the notorious Sentencia-Estatuto, barring the conversos from all offices in the future and denying them the right to the offices they held. To be sure, the rebels relied mainly on the low classes, but the policy expressed in the Sentencia, as we have noted, was by no means favored by these classes only. It was also supported by the urban aristocracy when they took over the government of the city; in fact, their insistence on that policy was so strong that they were willing to put themselves, solely for its sake, in the compro¬ mising and menacing situation of both intransigence to the king and disobe¬ dience to the pope.5 This fierce determination of the Toledans to keep the conversos out of all offices surfaced again in 1467, when another quarrel with their New Christian neighbors offered them an excuse to readopt the Sentencia, which had in the meantime been rescinded. On this occasion, too, we have seen the Toledans violate their obligations to their royal lord—i.e., Alfonso, Enrique IV’s brother (whom two years before they had proclaimed king)—because he refused to approve the requests they addressed to him with respect to the conversos. They abandoned his camp and rejoined King Enrique, who was now prepared to subscribe to their demands. But Toledo, as we have seen, was not the only city that was so determined to uphold this position. Other cities, like Ciudad Real and Cordova, in which the New Christians were violently assailed, hastened to declare, following the outbreaks, that no converso could assume public office within their jurisdiction.6 In making such rulings, these cities gave expression to a senti¬ ment that embraced many urban communities. It was fast becoming nation¬ wide when the new age approached, and in the following three centuries it fostered the view that the right to public office must be firmly held as the dividing line between Old and New Christians. The resistance of Old Christians to the engagement of conversos in the public offices of their various administrations had deep roots in Spanish life. It stemmed from two traditional attitudes (which already dominated Spain’s society in the 7th century): opposition to the holding of these offices by Jews and antagonism to having them controlled by Jewish converts.

1 he former

opposition was not unique to Spain. It accompanied Jewish life in many Christian countries from the beginning of the yth century onward, although

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it did not always determine the policies pursued by the rulers on this particular issue. Occasionally, princes were moved by self-interest to employ certain Jews in an official capacity, but whenever this occurred with some regularity, it was invariably followed by an upsurge of Jew hatred and by vehement demands to oust the Jews from their positions. The same phenom¬ ena were witnessed in the Christian kingdoms that arose in Spain in the period of the Reconquest, except that the rulers of these kingdoms knew better how to cope with the forces of the opposition. Especially distinguished in this respect was Castile, which engaged Jews for a much longer time, and in more high offices, than any other kingdom; nor did any other country experience such a hostile popular reaction to this engagement ofjews on the part of the Christian populace. But Castile was also unmatched in its antagonism to the holding of public offices by converts. And as in the case of the Jews, this antagonism assumed concrete political form in the cities. Toledo, as we have seen, took the lead in the drive against the appointment of both Jews and converts to office. We have noticed its opposition to Jews in high offices already before 1108 and to converts at least from 1118 on. Jews and converts, however, differed in their status, and we should distinguish the limits of the demands which Toledo (and, in its wake, many other cities) could present to the kings concerning the right of each group to occupy public posts. Until the middle of the 13th century, no city in Castile had any say in the governance of the kingdom, and consequently no city could interfere in the appointment of officials on a national level. To be sure, relying on the Church’s injunction prohibiting the appointment of Jews to high office, the cities protested with increasing vigor against any such appointments in Castile. For a long time, however, these protests fell on deaf ears. They could not alter the policies of the princes, who believed that the interests of the state took precedence over the pronouncements of the Church. But the case was different with regard to the appointment of holders of office in the urban administrations. Since most of these officials were appointed by the cities, their offices were hermetically closed to Jews—and often not to Jews alone. From 1118 to approximately 1250, we find one city after another insisting on its right to exclude Jewish converts from urban public offices, and it was only with great difficulty that the kings managed to engage Jewish converts as their treasurers in several Castilian cities. From about 1250 the situation changed radically when the third estate became a permanent component of the Castilian Cortes

a change that

reflected the growth of the cities’ financial and military power. As regular participants in the Castilian Cortes, the cities had the right to petition the kings for revisions in their policies and methods of government, and they used this right to exert pressure on the kings to remove the Jews from the

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royal administration. It was long before this pressure bore fruit, because the services of the Jews were considered indispensable, especially in the manage¬ ment of the royal finances (the heads of the royal treasury were Jews). But in 1380 the kings finally yielded. They removed the Jews from their positions at Court—that is, from all the national offices—leaving them only in local positions as farmers and gatherers of their taxes. The cities thus gained a major victory, even though not yet a total one. The final battle was won only thirty years later—that is, with the issuance of the laws of 1412, when thejews were removed from the tax-gathering system on the local levels, too. The triumph of the cities now seemed complete. Yet it was accompanied by a revolutionary change that presented the cities with difficult problems with which they were hardly prepared to cope. For only one decade after the Jews were removed from their high offices in Castile, masses of Jews went over to Christianity under the impact of the riots of 1391; and in 1412, the very year in which they were ousted from their local posts too, the second mass conversion began, in the course of which additional myriads of Jews were brought into the Christian fold. These New Christians began to press for the financial and other offices vacated by thejews. What is more, apart from the royal administration, they also sought entry into the municipal administra¬ tions, and thus the problem ofjews in public offices, which seemed to have been solved by the laws of 1412, was replaced for the cities by a far graver problem in precisely the same field. The restoration of the Jews to their former positions in the tax-gathering system (from 1420 on) naturally multi¬ plied the difficulties they faced; but the issue ofjews in the royal administra¬ tion, which had loomed so large decades before, now appeared minor compared to the converso problem. For while the cities could still oppose the entrance of Jews into their governing bodies on religious grounds, they had no answer to the problem posed by the penetration of converts into their officialdom. The primary reason for the cities’ objections to the presence of conversos in public office was essentially the same as their real reason for opposing Jews in the same positions. Although with respect to thejews their religion was the reason given publicly for the objections, we have noted that religion, though related to the issue, was essentially a convenient pretext. In the case of the converts, the cities found it difficult, if not impossible, to use that pretext, and therefore they resorted to other excuses, which rarely proved convincing. We have seen that the conversos were not the only group that the cities opposed as potential officeholders. As in the 14th century, so in the iyth they refused to let nobles hold office in their administrations, just as they objected to the intervention of Church judges in their judicial procedures. All such intrusions were viewed by the cities as intolerable interference in their

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civic life. Yet the least tolerable intrusion of all was to them that of the conversos. This opposition of the cities to the conversos appears, at first sight, less comprehensible than the antagonism they displayed toward the nobles, the clerics and the Jews. For the three latter groups belonged to different estates (or, in thejews’ case, to a different corporation); they were not subject to the cities’ jurisdiction, and in many cases (such as those involving magnates) were not even residents of the cities. None of these conditions applied to the conversos. Almost all of them belonged to the third estate, were subject to the municipal laws, and resided within the very cities that sought to deny them the right to hold office. All this suggests that the struggle of the city oligar¬ chies with the conversos over the control of the urban offices differed from their struggle with the nobles and prelates over the control of the national administration. For unlike their quarrel with the latter groups, the oligar¬ chies’ conflict with the conversos arose within the municipal citizenry, cut across the upper class of Old and New Christians, and placed both groups in a state of constant confrontation that increased competition and friction. No wonder the results of these contests differed, too. While the oligarchies were generally successful in repelling the magnates’ attempts to usurp their func¬ tions, their efforts to ward off the New Christians often met with failure and defeat. It was of course far harder for the cities of Castile to contend with the conversos in the iyth century than it had been in the 12th and the 13th. To begin with, while the number of Jewish converts in those centuries was comparatively small or even tiny, it was proportionately very large in the 15th century, during which the conversos came to comprise about a third of the cities’ population. The weight of their numbers could not be ignored; and to this one must add the repute and high standing they acquired as officials in both Castile and Aragon. It was difficult for the oligarchies to charge the conversos with administrative incompetence or other inadequacies when conversos proved so suitable for all other administrations and, indeed, were so lauded for their services. In addition, the highly important connections established by the conversos in all other bureaucracies could often exert sufficient influence on the oligar¬ chies to determine appointments in their favor, d hese circumstances, too, did not exist earlier, when many high positions in the royal and nobihar adminis¬ trations were occupied by Jews, and not by converts. But even more signifi¬ cant than these differences was the radically changed legal condition in Castile, which worked to the converts benefit, d o be sure, in the earlier periods too the urban oligarchies encountered great difficulties in denying Jewish converts official appointments, since such denials went counter to the

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laws as well as the common practice of the Church. But in the 15th century they had to contend not only with canon law but with civil law as well. For the civil law of Castile, as represented in the Partidas (which became the nation’s code in 1348), stated explicitly, as we have indicated, that converts from Judaism can freely enjoy "all the offices and honors which other Christians have." It was the clear-cut position on converso rights taken by the laws of both Church and state that paved the way for converso penetration into all the country’s administrations, including the urban. There was, however, an additional factor, more important than all others, without which the conversos would not have gone so far in their administra¬ tive achievements. This was the unwavering support they received for three decades from the Castilian Crown. We have seen the reasons for that support, which were all associated with the interests of the monarchy and its struggle for supreme power. Of course, the King’s aims were not those of the conver¬ sos, who essentially wished to fulfill their duties as both efficient and honest officials of whatever administration they worked for. But they were dedicated to the concept of the king’s supremacy and the idea that his orders should override the instructions of all other authorities. This attitude was, funda¬ mentally, all that the Crown required; and the benefits the conversos derived from it followed as a matter of course. Just as their expansion in the royal administration resulted, in large part, from the King’s conflict with the nobility and his desire to subdue the nobles to his will, so did their occupa¬ tion of high offices in the cities result, to no little extent, from his contest with the cities and his wish to reduce them to complete obedience. To be sure, the nobles correctly assessed the Marranos’ stand and motives. But the reaction of the oligarchies was different. The presence of conversos in the urban administrations, anathema from the first, was now doubly re¬ sented by the Old Christian notables as a tyrannic imposition. While the king-city conflict somewhat abated during the reign of Enrique IV, the Old-New-Christian contest did not. In fact, the oligarchies’ resistance to converso officials in their cities was constantly on the rise. The reason was the penetration of the conversos into most of the country’s urban administra¬ tions, which became ever harder to reverse. Like other social drives, this drive, too, was largely propelled by the force of inertia; and the positions the conversos had gained in the preceding reign served them as springboards for further advance.

Ill

The quarrel over the offices, which split the cities’ upper class into con¬ flicting groups of Old and New Christians, embraced the farming and collec¬ tion of the revenues, although these occupations belonged by their nature

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more to private enterprise and investment than to official appointment. Nevertheless, the tax farmers and collectors could perform their functions only when backed by an administrative power entitled to impose taxes. Thus, anyone invested by the royal treasury with the authority to gather the king’s revenues was in fact a royal official. In the 13th and 14th centuries, as we have noted, the cities opposed the engagement of Jews in the gathering of the revenues both as farmers and collectors, justifying their opposition by the same argument they had used in objecting to Jews in public office. As enemies of Christianity, the Jews, they said, should not be given positions of authority in which they might harm Christians. The reason may have been a mere excuse, but even if it was sincerely believed, it did not represent the sole or main motive of the cities’ unwavering stand on this matter—for they were just as stubbornly opposed, as we have seen, to the gathering of their taxes by both nobles and prelates. Obviously, the absence of the “Jewish” shortcoming—or, conversely, the presence of devout Christianity—was considered by the cities insufficient to qualify any of these groups as their tax gatherers. The cities viewed all members of the high estates as unfit and ineligible for the task—to begin with, because their privileges freed them from the need to abide by the city’s jurisdiction and thus rendered them unanswerable to its courts. Moreover, as “outsiders” from a civic standpoint—even when they lived within the city walls—they were presumed not to care about the city’s condition or the welfare of its citizens. In one measure or another, these considerations ap¬ plied also to the Jews. Rejectingjews, nobles and clerics, and of course also Moors, as tax gather¬ ers for the crown in their territories, the cities proposed to place the gather¬ ing of the revenues in the hands of their hombres buenos, respectable men of their own upper class, who would presumably treat the towns citizens fairly and also guard the rights of the crown. Never did they consider a compro¬ mise proposal, such as the appointment of trustworthy men from their own ranks or from the nobility and the clergy, by common consent of city and Crown. Nor did they consider the appointment of tax collectors from the middle or low classes by election or any other process. They insisted on the assignment of this task to hombres buenos chosen by the councils, or the oligarchies who virtually ruled the councils. We can see in this a clear sign of the desire—and indeed determination—of the Old Christian urban elite to make sure that the officials in this field, too, were members of their groups and subject to their control. And though they never said as much, they evidently wanted the income of these offices to go to their own men. From the standpoint of the interests of the urban economy, it was hard to argue with this demand. Tax collection brought in considerable profits, and it seemed right for the city to try to keep these profits (which were derived

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from its own citizens) within the communal orbit. Nevertheless, it is difficult to believe that personal as well as oligarchic interests were not behind the cities’ proposals. Undoubtedly, they wanted the profit to be made from the gathering of the royal revenues to go to their upper class and not to anyone else; but they wanted a profit that did not involve risk. Accordingly, they proposed that their hombres buenos be charged with the collection of the taxes and refused to let these collectors be subject to tax farmers even of their own chosen men. It stands to reason that they based their case on the claim that tax farming was an evil system, because the tax farmer, to gain his contract from the king, was forced to assure the monarch an income far larger than was justified by the economic situation; and then, to secure his investment and expected profit, he had to squeeze taxpayers for high returns, which they were not duty-bound to pay. It is also possible that most hombres buenos were disin¬ clined to.be involved in such activities, which would inevitably lead their fellow citizens to disparage them or view them with ill will. It is even more likely that their inexperience in the field made them reluctant to risk the large outlay and commitments that tax farming usually required. But what¬ ever the reasons for the cities’ position, the arrangement they proposed, if accepted by the Crown, would have drastically reduced the king’s income from the revenues, while giving him in fact no guarantee of any substantial income. Moreover, it would place the payment of the taxes virtually in the hands of those who were to pay them, and in consequence the king would financially become totally dependent on the cities. That is why the kings would not heed these demands and the Jews remained masters of the field— that is, they remained not only the tax collectors but also the farmers of the royal revenues. In the 14th and 15th centuries, it is obvious, Spain had not yet found a better way than farming to gather its taxes. From 1380 onward, the records of the Cortes contain no more demands by the cities of Castile to abolish the farming system and transfer the tax collection to their own men. This suggests that the cities acquiesced in the king’s methods of gathering the revenues. They did not cease, however, to complain about abuses of the laws and excessive impositions by the tax collectors of the king. But no indication was ever given of the personal identity of these tax collectors. In the fifteenth century, as we have noted, tax farming, which had been monopolized by the Jews, was gradually di¬ vided between them and the conversos. But even as late as 1469, the Jews held the “principal offices of the treasuries and collections” of the royal taxes in Castile (“rentas e pechos e derechos')? It would seem, then, that most of the complaints were directed against the Jewish gatherers of the revenues; but as we have no direct evidence of this, we must assume that at least some of the criticisms were aimed at the conversos, too. In any case, in the Petition

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which the rebels of Toledo addressed to the King in May 1449, the converso tax farmers are specifically mentioned as those entrusted with the gathering of the revenues and, furthermore, as responsible, together with Alvaro, for the “unjust and inhuman laws” enacted to raise the taxes above the needs of the Crown.8 Moreover, in the Sentencia the converso tax gath¬ erers are accused of having “taken, carried and robbed,” by means of their “great tricks (astucias) and deceits (enganos)” large and innumerable quanti¬ ties of maravedis and silver” from the king’s “rents (rentas), taxes (pechos), and duties (derechos).”9 Considering the rebels’ intense hatred of the conversos and the wild accusations they often hurled at them, we can discount a great many of these charges. But even so, it is clear that the converso tax gatherers were not accused of actions that were formally illegal, but rather of managing to get their wealth (which the authors of the Sentencia re¬ garded as “robbery”) by employing their financial astuteness (in which those authors saw only “tricks and deceits”) to obtain a larger portion than was due them from the royal taxes. If we go by the rebels’ statements, then, the tax-farming activities of the conversos raised bitter complaints and harsh criticisms from the Old Chris¬ tians in Toledo and other cities, and especially from their upper classes. For according to the Sentencia they have “caused the [economic] ruin ... ol many noble proprietresses (duenas), caballeros and hijos-dalgoand have, in addi¬ tion, “oppressed, destroyed, robbed and depraved ... most of the old houses and estates of the Old Christians” of Toledo ... and of “all the Kingdoms of Castile, as is notorious and accepted by us [i.e., by the authors of the Sentencia\ to be true” (“y por tal lo habemos”).'0 Based as it was largely on “notoriety,” this charge of the rebels, like many of their other charges, must have been exaggerated. Surely not all or most estates of the lower nobility of Castile were bankrupt; and if many of them were, there must have been other causes, besides excessive taxation, that brought them to this condition. But since these accusations were made public in Toledo, we may assume that they were intended to appeal to many members of the Old Christian high classes in the city, and from this we may conclude that, like the occupation of the high offices of the urban administrations, the gathering of the taxes by the conversos generated much tension between Old and New Christians and was especially a source of friction and antagonism between the two constituent parts of the cities’ upper class, the Old and New Christian elites.

IV

The steadily increasing strength of the conversos in the gathering of the revenues in Castile was in no small measure due to their hold on the royal office charged with the allotment of tax farming. This was the office of

960 ]

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Contador Mayor (the chief accountant or treasurer of the kingdom), which was occupied almost uninterruptedly by Jews from the days of Alfonso X to those of Juan I (1380). Faced with the violent anti-Jewish outcry that followed the murder of Joseph Pichon (1379), the King did not dare to reappoint a Jew to the office of Contador Mayor." Nevertheless, no Christian, it seems, was to fill that position either. It would seem that the powerful Jewish tax farmers objected to having a Christian in that office, and as a result, the contaduria mayor continued to be run, though informally, by Jews. Things, however, changed considerably in this respect after the conver¬ sions of 1391. Many of the converts must have been tax collectors who were anxious to resume their work in the field, and some of them no doubt were qualified to occupy the office of Contador Mayor. In any case, the Jewish monopoly in that area was broken or at least severely curtailed, and the Jewish tax farmers, with their number much diminished, could no longer object—as they may have done before—to the appointment of a convert to the contested office. Early in the reign of Enrique III, therefore,Juan Sanchez de Sevilla (the former Samuel Abravanel), probably the most famous convert of his time, became contador mayor}2 He served in this capacity until the end of the reign (1407) and possibly in the subsequent period of the Regency, and we find him still called contador mayor (obviously, by then an honorary title) when young Juan II succeeded to the throne (1419).13 He was not, however, the only converso to occupy that office during the period of the Regency. Other contadores mayores in those days, perhaps already in the reign of Enrique III, were the New Christians Francisco Fernandez Marmolejo and Diego Sanchez de Valladolid.14 Their offspring, like those ofjuan Sanchez de Sevilla, intermarried with Old Chris¬ tian nobles—a sure sign of the fame and success they attained during their service.15 From 1416 the contador mayor was Fernan Alonso de Robles.16 He was a man of low birth, probably from the middle class, who began his career as an aide to an escribano and rose to the high levels of the royal administration

only,

we are told, “thanks to his abilities.”17 All this is typical of the career of a converso, though Robles may have been an Old Christian. In any case, as we have seen, in 1427, after he had broken faith with Alvaro, he lost his position, and his tasks were taken over by the New Christian fernan Lopez de Saldana.18 He, too, shared the job with another converso, who earned the same title. This was Diego Gonzalez de Toledo (better known as Doctor Franco), who was held in high regard at Juan IPs Court. Above or beside him served as contador mayor Alvaro’s close friend and future antagonist Alonso Perez de Vivero. Vivero’s kinship in some degree with conversos cannot, in our opinion, be ruled out.19 In the following reign, that of Enrique IV, the chief contador mayor was

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96l

again a converso. This was the famous Diego Arias Davila, one of Castile’s ablest treasurers in that century, even though he was the most reviled and most criticized by many Old Christians. We see no basis for the hostile charges that were leveled at him on the grounds of religion, but they no doubt reflected a popular reaction to the unconventional and sometimes ruthless methods he employed to keep the treasury well supplied. Enrique IV knew his value, and it was in grateful recognition of his services that he appointed his son Pedro Arias Davila (Pedrarias) to the same position after Diego’s death. Thus we see that throughout the long period stretching from the first years of Enrique III to the last years of Enrique IV—and possibly even further— the Royal Treasury was almost exclusively in the hands of New Christians. Apart from facilitating the expansion of the conversos in the farming and collection of the revenues, it no doubt contributed to the growth of their activity in banking and money exchange, mining, and the management of royal finances in the provinces that were likewise under the Treasury’s control. Just as the conversos made large-scale advances in the fields related to the Royal Treasury, they also made notable progress in the spheres controlled by the administration of justice. The appointment of judges of all ranks in the cities was one of the functions of the royal chancellery, and it was no doubt thanks to their influence in the chancellery that conversos were given posi¬ tions of judges in steadily increasing number. If we go by the list of the Toledan conversos ousted from their offices in 1449, Toledo had then only one converso judge (Diego Gonzalezjarada),20 but later on we find conversos serving in Toledo in the capacity of both ordinary judges (such as Francisco de Cota21 and Alonso Diaz de Toledo22) and extraordinary ones, alcaldes mayores (such as Diego Romero23 and Alvar Gomez de Cibdad Real-4). In Seville, we are told that Juan Fernandez Albolasia, who was known as “a great jurist,” served many times as alcalde de la justicia,25 while Fernando de Rojas, the famous novelist, was alcalde mayor of Talavera.26 from other indications in the sources we learn that conversos served as judges in many towns at various levels, as well as in special fields, such as the royal revenues in Seville or the Hermandad in Ciudad Real.2' Another part of the royal administration in which conversos attained a special place was the secretaryship of the king, which they held almost uninterruptedly from the beginning ofjuan IPs reign. The most prominent of these officials, who enjoyed special influence on the monarch, was no doubt Fernan Diaz de Toledo, who besides acting as Relator, served also as the king’s chief secretary. In the subsequent reign, these functions of secre¬ tary were fulfilled by two other conversos, for the most part by Alvar Gomez de Cibdad Real, who was chief secretary of Enrique IV and his closest

962]

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confidant in the first half of the reign. His betrayal of Enrique represented not the rule but the exception in the behavior of converso royal secretaries, and did not prevent Queen Isabella from appointing a New Christian to the same office. He was the famous Alvarez de Toledo, more commonly known as Zapata.28 There can be no doubt that the influence of the conversos in the royal secretaryship was one of the factors determining the appointments of the cities’ chief authorities—the regidores and corregidores. Perhaps the first con¬ verso to function as corregidor was the one appointed for Orense in 141929; and as in other offices, in this one, too, it was in the days ofjuan II that more and more New Christians served as regidores and corregidores, despite the opposi¬ tion that must have been shown by the local authorities. Thus in 1421, when Alvar Sanchez de Cartagena was sent by the king as corregidor to Toledo, he was refused entry into the city30; but few cities could show such disregard for royal wishes as did Toledo in that year; and in 1449 the Relator tells us that some of the descendants of Fernandez Marmolejo (the contador mayor) served as regidores in Seville.31 From the days of Enrique IV, there are clear indications that a steadily increasing number of conversos occupied these offices, and this was no doubt true also for the first years of the Catholic Kings—that is, until the founding of the Inquisition. This development is illustrated by the names of New Christian regidores and corregidores who, for one reason or another, gained special repute. Such were Juan Gonzalez Pintado, the famous regidor of Ciudad Real (burned by the Inquisition in that city),32 Alvaro de la Torre, regidor of Toledo (who was hanged by the populace in 1467),33 and Diego de Susan, regidor of Seville, who, together with other leading Marranos, was accused of conspiring against the Inquisition in 1481 and was burned at the stake as an alleged Judaizer.34 Not all of them, however, met such a tragic end. Other famous regidores were Fernando de la Torre, the well-known author (in Burgos),35 Alonso Cota, the treasurer (in Toledo)36 and Andres de Cabrera, Enrique IV’s mayordomo (in Cuenca).37 The latter, who became governor of Segovia and promoter of Princess Isabella to the throne, secured for his brother Alfonso the office of corregidor of Segovia,38 while Diego de Valera, the poet and historian, served as corregi¬ dor of Segovia and Palencia.39 But the crowning achievement of the conversos in government was at¬ tained through their membership in Castile’s royal Council. Whereas throughout the history of the Jews in Christian Spain, only two Jewish courtiers are known for certain to have become members of the royal Coun¬ cil,40 conversos seem to have joined this body from the beginning of the reign ofjuan II. Toward the end of that reign they probably comprised no less than a third of its members,41 reaching at that time the zenith of their influence in determining the actions and policies of the state. In subsequent reigns this

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influence was reduced either by the decline of the Council’s participation in the governance of the kingdom or by the changes later introduced in both its structure and functions. Enrique IV relied more and more on isolated councillors, whom he chose from all estates, while Ferdinand the Catholic limited his council members to a small number of bureaucrats (almost all plebeians) chosen for their administrative expertise. Converso representation among these bureaucrats, however, was notable in the reigns of these kings too, until about the turn of the century. In the iyth century New Christians often played a leading role in the hierarchy of the Church. Among the offices they occupied were those of bishop, archbishop, Master of the Sacred Palace, and cardinal. The first converso to gain high Church position was Pablo de Santa Maria, who became bishop of Cartagena (in 1401) and later of Burgos during the minority of Juan II (in 1415). Toward the end of the Regency’s rule we meet with a second converso bishop—Gonsalvo de Santa Maria, Paul’s eldest son, who acquired the see of Astorga in 1419. Under Juan II, when no bishop could be appointed in Castile without the king’s consent, Alfonso de Cartagena, Paul’s second son, replaced his aged father in the bishopric of Burgos. Among the sees occupied by New Christian prelates in the second half of the century were those of Segovia, Calahorra and Granada. Conversos were also ap¬ pointed to other positions in the ecclesiastical hierarchy, such as those of archdeacons, deacons, abbots, canons, and chaplains of cathedral churches. Paralleling their growing authority in the monarchic and ecclesiastical administrations was their rising status in the nobiliar estates. Here, too, they often served the great magnates as treasurers, mayordomos, maestresalas, and also as political counselors and emissaries. Their infiltration into the noble class was considerably facilitated by the numerous marriages contracted by their sons and daughters with nobles of high rank. All this often brought them in touch with the forces that shaped the policies of the kingdom, which also helped them advance their penetration into the royal and urban administra¬ tions. These attainments of the conversos in Castile helped to spur a similar development in Aragon. Aragon did not have an Alvaro de Luna, who could overcome the entrenched opposition of the estates to the entrance of conver¬ sos into the different administrations. It was apparently only after 1458, when Juan II became king of Aragon, that the influx of conversos into the royal administration began. It markedly increased in the seventies and reached its climax in the following decade, under Ferdinand II. Suffice it to mention the following names to illustrate this fact: Alonso de la Caballerfa was Ferdi¬ nand’s vice-chancellor; Luis de Santangel was escribano de radon, i.e., the King’s financial secretary (apart from having served in other important posts), Gabriel Sanchez was General Treasurer of the kingdom,4- Sancho de Pater-

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noy was maestre rational de Aragon (chief controller of Aragon s finances),43 and Gaspar de Barrachina, Ferdinand’s private secretary.44 This summary is by no means exhaustive, even with respect to the types of positions occupied in that period. Thus we find in the royal administration conversos who served also as royal ambassadors, military commanders, and governors of castles, and in the urban sphere as treasurers, mayordomos and procuradores to Cortes. The list could be extended, of course; but the picture is clear. Conversos were among the occupants of positions in all four ad¬ ministrations of the country—the royal, nobiliar, clerical and urban—and at all levels. Above all, we should note, most of these positions carried with them, in varying degrees, governmental authority, social prestige, and a relatively high income. Thus, they all provided openings to achieve the three assets most desired by the great majority of men: honor, wealth and power. That is why the struggle for their control was characterized by such tenacity.

V

There is no doubt that the large amounts of money concentrated in the hands of the converso tax farmers enabled—and induced—some of them to engage in international commerce. In this field, the Genoese who had settled in Spain, Old Christian Spaniards and Spanish Jews had been active for a long time; and the New Christians, we may safely assume, met stiff competition. But in the 15th century, Spain’s commercial horizons expanded toward both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, thereby multiplying business opportuni¬ ties. The strong merchant communities established by the conversos in such cities as Seville, Toledo and Barcelona must have been to some extent an outcome of their achievements in international trade. Less competitive than the merchants of the upper classes were the middleclass Old and New Christians, who drew their income mainly from small industries and businesses serving local markets. Here New and Old Chris¬ tians often dealt in different commodities, a fact that reduced competition between them. Of course, such division of economic activity was generally not found in the liberal professions, notably medicine and jurisprudence, in which members of both groups engaged. In these spheres, Old and New Christians may often have competed for the same positions in the bureaucra¬ cies, as well as for the same clients or patients. Several remarks should be made at this point to clarify the essential elements involved. In the liberal professions no less than in commerce, conversos in the same field were not all of the same class. In medicine, for instance, their famous physicians, who were usually in the service of great lords, all belonged to the upper class; not so most of the beginning practition¬ ers and many of those who served the common folk. These had to compete

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not only with Jewish but also with Old Christian physicians, most of whose patients were Old Christians. By income and status, all these competitors belonged to the middle class, but the conversos often had the edge over the others for the same reasons that caused their famous masters to outmatch their Jewish and Old Christian peers. In consequence, the Old Christian more than the Jewish doctors saw themselves increasingly deprived of their patients by the successes of their converso rivals. Nevertheless, they would not give up. In most communities Old Christian physicians were available besides the Jewish and converso ones, and many Old Christians preferred their services either for professional reasons or simply because they were Old Christians. The savage campaign against converso doctors, portraying them as killers of their Christian patients, no doubt contributed to this prefer¬ ence.45 But the Old Christian doctors, it must be pointed out, probably had no hand in that campaign. They must have been asked by the propagators of the libels to express support for their accusations; but no evidence has emerged that any of them so acted. This not only attests the professional integrity of the Old Christian physicians, but also explains why, despite the frightening rumors, many Old Christians continued to seek the services of converso (and Jewish) doctors. The contest between the Old and New Christians of the middle class in the other free professions—especially in jurisprudence—was, in all likeli¬ hood, no less determined. As indicated above, many young New Christians turned to the law,46 which a considerable number of them later practiced, but compared to medicine, which had been dominated by Jews, competition in jurisprudence was much tougher. Toward the middle of the century, this competition sharpened to the point of bitter rivalry. At that time, Old Christian graduates from the colleges became too numerous to be easily absorbed by the frequently depressed Castilian economy. Soon they came to think that their problem arose from the partial occupation of the field by conversos and came to believe that their problem could be solved by laws forbidding their competitors to practice. It was not by mere chance, one may venture to suppose, that two of the main leaders of the revolt of ’49 were bachelors of law47 and that the Sentencia forbade the conversos to assume not only public but also private offices. By the latter, we believe, they meant primarily the offices of jurists and attorneys (abogados). Old and New Christians of the middle class also clashed over the minor public offices. For members of this class to gain major offices, talent and education rarely sufficed. They had, besides, to be well connected and more often than not—well financed. Yet except for extraordinary cases, these conditions did not obtain in their ranks, and consequently they usually had to be satisfied with low-grade public positions. But even these were not to be had for the asking. Modest though the pay was, it was secure, and the jobs,

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though low, offered opportunities to rise in the bureaucracy. That is why many citizens of both groups who wished to enter the bureaucratic service were willing to compete for low-grade posts. The New Christians’ chances of winning in these contests were, however, slimmer than those of the Old. For the second-grade officials were not appointed by the king, but either by the various departments of the councils or by the cities highest officials. And since most of the council members were Old Christians, as were most of the high officials, their choice fell mostly on Old Christian candidates; and thus, the great majority of the low-grade officials belonged to the Old Christian camp. No other result, it seems, can be envisaged by anyone familiar with the tendencies of the age. Combining some functions of public offices with some of the characteris¬ tics of the liberal professions were the posts of the escnbamas. Scriveners were appointed by royal authority, but their professional success, reputation and income depended entirely on their personal abilities. In this respect, the scriveners resembled the physicians—and even more so the jurists, who, like themselves, dealt chiefly with judicial and economic matters. Like the famous physicians and jurists, some of the scriveners served the kings and great nobles, or otherwise managed a large amount of business; and these belonged of course to the upper class; but most of the escribanos, serving the urban populations, did not rise economically above the upper middle class. Never¬ theless, both Old and New Christians eagerly sought to get hold of these positions; for apart from offering financial opportunities, they bestowed con¬ siderable prestige on their occupants, the scribe being regarded as an honor¬ able person who could be entrusted with confidential matters. That is why they formed a bone of contention between Old and New Christians not only of the middle class, but of the upper classes, too.48 When relations between Old and New Christians became tense, and certainly when they were openly hostile, members of neither group wished to share their secrets with escribanos of the opposition. In such times, of course, control of the escribanias was a matter of great interest to all residents of the cities, especially of the upper classes.

VI

More serious friction than the middle-class Old Christians experienced in their relations with New Christians of their own class may have developed in their contacts with conversos of the upper class, with whom they may often have had to deal. This was especially so when great converso merchants, doing business on a national scale, supplied town merchants with merchan¬ dise for their local markets. The town merchants may often have depended on credit, on loans they could not get from Old Christian sources, and it is

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here that the converso wholesale merchant would come to their rescue as financier. The middle-class merchant, however, was not always in a position to meet his contractual obligations, and thus he might occasionally get into debt, which ultimately landed him in deep trouble. In such situations the Old Christian merchant could be led to believe that he had been outmaneuvered by the converso supplier and financier, who practiced on him his “evil arts.” If, in addition, he saw himself at the mercy of the converso tax assessor and tax collector, we can readily understand his distrust and even fear of the New Christians. As for the relations between the Old and New Christians of the lower class, mostly artisans and suppliers of low-grade services, competition between them must have been considerably more limited than it was between the Old and New Christians of the middle class. To be sure, many Old Christian and converso craftsmen who shared the same skills and clientele often must have found that their interests conflicted, but the trades of many others, as indi¬ cated above, were peculiar to their collectivities; and this partial occupational differentiation, which naturally caused a separation of interests, tended of course to diminish competition as well as social friction between the groups. An illustration of this fact may be offered by pointing to the occupations of the Old Christian craftsmen who made a name for themselves in the anticonverso outbreaks. The Old Christian who raised the outcry in Toledo that started the rebellion of 1449 was a maker of wineskins; the Old Christian who led the assault on the conversos in the Cordovan riots of 1473 was a black¬ smith; the Old Christian who killed the Constable Lucas injaen, thereby unleashing an attack on the conversos, was a carpenter; while the Old Christian who distinguished himself in the battle of Toledo in 1467 belonged to a family of dyers. None of these professions was typical of both groups or practiced by them to a like extent. The first three crafts mentioned were dominated by Old Christians, while the fourth was almost monopolized by the New.49 As for the crafts that were shared by both groups, we do not hear that this fact led to any troubles among the craftsmen involved. Nor do we have any evidence to the effect that Old Christians of the lower classes complained about conversos who worked in their own trades. If there was some competition there (and we assume that there was), it was certainly not so keenly felt as to fire the kind of red-hot animosity that the lower classes exhibited so frequently toward the conversos. It is also important to note in this connection that the Sentencia-Estatuto imposed no limitation on converso artisans, nor did it express any criticism of them. In their case, as in the case of the merchants, it disregarded the example of extreme discrimination offered by the laws of 1412. But if the internal relations in the lower classes could not produce strong

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antagonism between the groups, the relations between the Old Christians of the lower class and the New Christians of the higher classes indubitably could. Like the middle-class merchant, the Old Christian artisan saw himself occasionally forced to resort to a New Christian with a request for aid or consideration of some sort. This happened especially in two situations: (a) when he was in financial straits and had to turn to his wholesaler, who was often a converso, for extension of his credit; and (b) when, faced with a converso tax assessor, he had to negotiate with him the terms of his payment. These contacts often made him tense, not only because of the ordinary worry that usually accompanied such encounters, but also because of his lurking suspicion that the converso would not treat him fairly. Imbued with dislike of conversos from childhood, it would not occur to him that the feeling of the converso for him would be any different. But besides this assumed mutuality of dislike, there was another reason for the special discomfort that he felt in his dealings with New Christians. For in the consciousness of the lower classes there lingered the memory of the atrocities that their ancestors had committed against the conversos’ forebears, and they could not shake off the belief that the conversos harbored a desire for vengeance. This belief fostered their suspicion that the conversos were somehow out to get them, and strengthened their ever-present distrust of the converso tax gatherer and financier. Naturally, when they thought they were overtaxed or that their converso creditors were unduly harsh, they were prepared (or even eager, if circumstances permitted) to apply to the converso the same solution that their forefathers had applied to his ancestors, the jews—namely, to get rid of their debts by getting rid of their creditors. What was said of the intentions ascribed to the converso who functioned as tax gatherer and financier could also be said of the intentions attributed to the converso official. The reason given for the old prohibition on appoint¬ ing anyjew to public office in Christendom—namely, that the Jew might do harm to the Christians—appeared valid for the conversos, too. This was especially the dominant view among the members of the Old Christian lower classes, for whom the converso government official commonly formed an object of hate. What they hated in this official were not only his status and the powers he possessed and could exercise against them, but also his entire deportment which, they thought, breathed superiority and arrogance. It is possible of course that some converso officials were haughty, rude, or insensi¬ tive to the problems of the lower-class Old Christians with whom they had to deal. On the other hand, many of the complaints raised by the latter may have been imaginary or lacked sound basis, since the converso official, who was bound by the laws or by the instructions of his superiors, may have been compelled to act as he did. Just the same, to the needy Old Christians, whose appeals for special consideration he rejected, he may often have appeared

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cold-blooded and cruel, and sometimes even vengeful and humiliating. In¬ deed, humiliation, whether true or imagined, was the most irritating thing. The lower-class Old Christian could take patiently and obediently any sneer or abuse from an Old Christian nobleman, or from his Old Christian urban lord, but he could not tolerate similar treatment by a converso of whatever rank. In such cases, he felt the rage of rebellion dominate his entire being. There were thus certain foci of irritation between the Old and New Christian communities, all connected to some degree with the social and economic activities of the conversos, and especially with their functions in the public offices. We discern the existence of social discomfort especially among members of the lower classes upon encountering conversos as collec¬ tors of revenues, as moneylenders, and as judges and officers of the law. We note the reluctance of the Old Christian middle class to yield to conversos the city’s second-grade offices, as well as their competition with other con¬ versos in the liberal professions; and finally, we see the hard struggle over the high offices, which actually amounted to rivalry for power between the higher Old Christian social strata and the upper crust of the converso com¬ munity. The desire to disqualify the conversos from office was therefore shared, in varying degrees, by members of all the classes in the city; and this desire was heightened by the jurists of the middle class, as well as by some friars and their associates in the clergy, who served as spokesmen for the disgruntled elements and led the anti-converso agitation. They fired the hatred for the conversos of the lower classes, who merely needed an excuse to give it vent; and their campaign emboldened the upper classes in their attempts to remove the conversos from the offices. Economic, social and political urges thus combined to form a powerful front against the New Christians.

VII

It might seem, then, that the root cause of the troubled relations between Old and New Christians in the Spanish kingdoms lay in social-economic conditions, and especially in a number of acute irritants that evolved from those conditions and were never assuaged. One tends to attribute to this source both the hostility that was displayed toward the conversos and the various attempts to block their advancement in the social and economic spheres. For here we have conflicts that touched vital interests of considera¬ ble sections of the Old Christian population and reasons for emotional discomfort and concerns that could deeply disturb their peace of mind. And yet further analysis of the data relating to the social-economic relations between the Old and New Christians inevitably elicits a number of questions that put the above assumption in doubt.

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If we consider the conflicts between the groups within the various urban classes, we are first of all puzzled by the attitude toward conversos of the Old Christians in the upper class. Granted that social-economic interests, and especially the desire to gain high office, could spur some ambitious members of the upper class to foil their converso rivals; but this fact in itself can in no way explain all the forms that that reaction assumed. After all, quarrels over offices and other social assets occurred among Old Christian burghers as well; they often grew from disputes between individuals into endless wrangling between their supporting bands, and the din of their squabbles, broils and battles often filled the streets of Castilian towns. But none of these quarrels, however violent, had the characteristics of the Old-New Christian feud. Nowhere did they expand beyond their native place to embrace vast areas and sections of the nation, and nowhere did they last for many generations, even centuries. And what is perhaps more significant: nowhere did any of the contending parties issue laws against the members of the other; nor did they deny them any basic right on account of their ethnic origin. To be sure, the frequent rise of these urban factions, fighting each other so acrimoniously, may help us understand the restless social atmosphere that prevailed in the Spanish cities at the time. Also, the fact that the goal of all these factions was to gain control of the city’s public offices may throw a valuable sidelight on the quarrel then raging between the Old and New Christians. Yet although these matters admittedly belong to the background of the conflict, they do not fully explain it. They cannot account for its duration, expansion, and unique forms of warfare. Above all, they cannot account for its end. The problem becomes even more perplexing when we consider the num¬ ber of Old Christians who may have been hurt by the conversos in relation to the Old Christian population. To be sure, the conversos who gained administrative posts at the expense of Old Christian citizens formed numeri¬ cally a considerable group, if all of them throughout the nation were counted. Nevertheless, they were a small minority in Castile’s urban officialdom. For even at the peak of the conversos’ expansion in the country’s various ad¬ ministrations, the overwhelming majority of the cities’ officials were Old Christians. Thus most regidores were Old Christians, and so were most corregidores. Likewise, the great majority of the jurados, the veinticuatros, and the procuradores in Cortes were Old Christians, and so were most of the alcaldes, alcaides and alguaciles, and undoubtedly most of the smaller officials, as we have indicated above. It was only in certain professions and places (like the escribanias in Toledo, for instance) that the conversos virtually monopo¬ lized the field. But this hardly affected the general picture. Real and over¬ whelming power in the cities lay in the hands of Old Christians. The most apparent implication of this fact bears significantly on our subject. If the New Christian officials in the cities formed a fraction of the

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urban officialdom, the Old Christian burghers who resorted to their services were, correspondingly, a minority of the population. But obviously, not all the members of this minority were hurt by the converso officials; and thus, even under the worst of circumstances, the injured group must be further reduced. An opposite conclusion may be reached only by one who assumes that all converso officials were always negligent in their duties, or constantly trying to harm the Old Christians. But could this be true? Could they all have fulfilled their tasks so inefficiently? Could they have been so ill intentioned or so corrupt? We can see no grounds for such an opinion; nor are we alone in rejecting it. In one of his references to the conversos, the historian Jaime Vicens Vives said: “Continuing in the footsteps of their [Jewish] fathers, they became great financiers, good artisans and excellent public officials. All those who have studied iyth century life and society in Castile recognize this fact.”50 By citing this statement we do not mean to suggest that all converso officials were “excellent.” Nor was this suggested, we believe, by Vives. We may assume that some of the New Christian officials were incompetent or unreliable or ill-tempered or the like. Such elements were found in all administrations, and especially in those of medieval Castile, whose royal administrations were notorious for their shortcomings, both moral and orga¬ nizational. Nevertheless, there are good reasons to believe that the propor¬ tion of dishonest or unfit officials was smaller among the New Christians than among the Old. One such reason must be related to the fact that the converso official was surrounded by Old Christians who wished him ill and hoped to see him fail; consequently, he had to watch his step and fulfill his duties as carefully and punctiliously as he could. In particular, he had to deal fairly with the Old Christians who resorted to his services, for he naturally wanted to forestall complaints that he treated any of them with bias. Thus we must conclude that the cases of Old Christians who were mistreated by converso officials were not numerous; in fact, they may have been exceptional. In view of this, the question we should raise is: How did a small minority of New Christians who annoyed a small minority of Old Christians succeed in rousing great masses of Old Christians to such violent assaults on the whole converso camp? When we pose this question we do not disregard the feelings of the low classes against the converso officials. But these feelings, it seems, could breed only suspicion. They could not serve as real grounds for the enactment of laws like the Sentencia-Estatuto. There seemed to be only one sphere of action to which the above situation did not apply—that of the gathering of the revenues. In this field, indeed, the New Christian officials greatly outnumbered the Old Christian ones, though they did not dominate most of the field, at least for most of the period. As we have noted, most of the collectors and treasurers of the revenues were

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Jews, at least until a decade before the founding of the Inquisition—and this means that, with respect to tax impositions, the majority of the Old Christians were not under converso but under Jewish authority. The remaining minor¬ ity, however, must have been large, both proportionately and in absolute numbers; and this, it seems, may give room for the assumption that it was the gathering of the revenues by the New Christians that was mainly responsible for the exceptional animosity that arose against the group. We ought, however, to consider the following facts before we can make up our minds in this matter. The major complaint raised against the tax gatherers was their overassessment of the revenues. But the city councils knew that the main blame for this wrong lay not with the gatherers, but with the system of tax collection that was based on “farming.” And they knew that direct responsibil¬ ity for this system rested with the kings, who sought greater income, without paying due attention to their subjects’ needs. The city councils, who were aware of this fact, could not blame the conversos for the consequences. That this was indeed the councils’ position may also be gathered from the following. If in the 14th century the cities pressed the kings to give up tax farming altogether, in the iyth century they did not raise this demand— either because they realized the hopelessness of such attempts, or because they ultimately came to the conclusion that they could not offer a workable alternative. The only occasion on which they touched the subject was at the Cortes of Ocana, in 1469. Yet they did not then request that the system be abolished; they merely asked to have the Jews cleared out of it. No doubt, recalling Enrique II’s claim (at the Cortes of Burgos in 1367) that no Christians were prepared to assume the tasks of tax farming,51 they stressed that if the king could agree to reduce the cost of farming to “reasonable prices, ” enough “Christians” would be available to replace thejews in that field.52 This shows that they clearly realized where the source of the trouble lay. Yet in 1469, when the procuradores referred to “Christians” who could replace thejews as tax farmers, they did not exclude from those “Christians” the New Christians, for they used the term Christians without qualification—moral, social, or religious. What is more, they must have realized that if the Jews were removed from the gathering of taxes, the first to replace them would be the conversos, who possessed, besides the needed funds, the necessary organiza¬ tion, knowledge and experience. Thus we must conclude that the Old Chris¬ tians of the cities did not loathe the conversos as tax farmers and tax collectors as much as we may gather from the criticisms on this score raised by the conversos’ enemies. Related to this is another testimony that must be borne in mind. In 1480 the concejo of Seville placed the gathering of the urban taxes in the hands of twenty-one converso tax farmers and two converso treasurers.53 Could any

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fact be more revealing of the confidence the Old Christians had in the integrity and efficiency of the converso tax gatherers? Seville, which was known to be seething with animosity for its large New Christian population, entrusted the collection of its own taxes not to any of its Old Christian citizens but to conversos—and to conversos only. And this happened in the year 1480—the very year in which the Inquisition was founded! It is hard to believe, in view of the above, that opposition to converso tax farming activity, or abuse of the rights of Old Christian citizens committed by New Christian tax collectors, was the main cause of that hostility for the conversos which erupted in such violent outbreaks. And let us also note this: besides the prohibition on assuming public offices (which included no doubt the offices of tax gathering) and on serving in private offices (which included, as we take it, those of lawyers and physi¬ cians), the conversos were not forbidden, even in the Sentencia, to engage in any other work. Thus, no converso craftsmen and industrialists are forbidden to go on with their work, or shopkeepers to sell their goods, or merchants to conduct their businesses, or financiers to invest their funds. The opposition seems to have centered on one issue—that of the public offices. Yet if this was the issue that fired the resentment of most Old Christians against the conver¬ sos, why did they not direct their fire at the high officials or gatherers of taxes, as they did in the case of Cota in Toledo?54 Moreover, when we examine the list of conversos who were ousted from their posts by the rulings of the Sentencia, we find that it comprised only fourteen persons in all, of whom one was a municipal judge, while some of the others were escribanos. Is it possible that for such a small number of officials, at least half of whom were of median rank, the whole city was in an uproar and measures were taken as for civil war? Certainly, that list of fourteen persons cannot explain the fierce hatred of, and bloody attack upon all conversos of all classes and all ranks and the ardent desire to kill them all, or at least reduce them to third-rate residents denied even the right to testify in the courts. We must get to the bottom of this situation if we wish to identify the true causes of the strife that broke out between the Old and the New Christians in Spain—a strife that lasted for more than four centuries and deeply affected the destinies of the peninsula and, through the Inquisition, of large parts of Europe and indeed of the whole world. Our exploration of the problem must therefore continue, but in the meantime we must recall the phenomena that were noted in the course of the present inquiry. Each class of the Old Christians had individuals and small groups who clashed with conversos on a variety of matters of a social-economic nature. These clashes generated a resentment among the Old Christians which was first directed against the conversos involved, who were likewise either in dividuals or small groups. The fact, however, that this resentment often

974]

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spread quickly to include the entire converso community shows that beneath the economic grudges lay a deep feeling of antagonism to all conversos which, in a sense, was lying in wait until triggered to rise to the surface by the socialeconomic conflicts. Obviously, we are dealing here with a public sentiment which, in various degrees, was shared by all Old Christians and which, sooner or later, could be roused in them all, though in different degrees, against all conversos. Such a sentiment could of course be the root of the widespread hostility for the New Christians which evolved in Spain in the fifteenth century and reached its height with the establishment of the Inquisition—or rather in the course of its operations. Yet what was the nature of that sentiment, and what were its particular causes? Since no satisfactory answer to this question can be elicited from the religious accusations, and no adequate explanation is of¬ fered by the social censures of the New Christians, we shall turn to the third set of charges (the racial) embodied in the anti-converso literature of the time.

III. The Rise of Racism i

Leopold Ranke, the first to notice the racial factor in the attacks on the conversos, attributed it to the natural, inherent antagonism between the Spaniards and the Jews. That this antagonism was openly expressed against the New Christians (and not against the Jews) was due, he believed, to the conversos’ tendency to intermarry with the Old Christians. The “Ger¬ manic” and “Romanic” Spaniards, he maintained, could not bear to be amalgamated with Jews and Moors; and hence the vehement rejection of the conversos by means of a racial assault.1 Ranke’s view appears to have been influenced by the German antiJewish racial movement of the first quarter of the 19th century; but insofar as Spain of the 15th century is concerned, it cannot be upheld. To begin with, the Spaniards, in their great majority, were not “Germanic,” as one might gather from Ranke. Taken as a whole, they were not descendants of the Visigoths and Sueves who had settled in Spain, but a mixture of many ethnic elements that combined in the course of Spain’s long history to produce the various Spanish “types.” To the extent that “Germanic” fea¬ tures were still evident in the Spanish population of the 15th century, they were doubtless more commonly found in the nobility than among the plebeians. Yet it was with the nobility rather than the lower classes that the conversos intermarried; and it was not the nobility that spawned the theory of their evil, corrupt and inferior nature. Looking for the origins of this theory, which he saw as the propelling force of Spanish racism, Menendez y Pelayo, in one of his letters, expressed the rather startling opinion that the Spaniards may have borrowed their racism from the Jews.2 The opinion, in effect, was mere conjecture, but it had a sequel in Spanish scholarship. Menendez y Pelayo’s brief remark may not have been lost on Americo Castro, who formed, perhaps under its stimulus, his theory about the Jewish origin of the limpieza3—the concept and advo¬ cacy of “purity of blood” that so influenced Spanish society from the middle of the 15th century on. Americo Castro was puzzled by the emergence of so strong a racial bias in the Spanish people, which for many generations had been notable, in his opinion, for its racial tolerance. The appearance of that bias among the Old Christians following the mass conversions of the Jews led him to believe that the Jews were the source of the new racial attitude in Spain.

1 he large-scale

invasion of Spain’s Christian society by Jews who had only recently been

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Christianized inevitably brought into Spain’s social life a number of domi¬ nant Jewish views, among which those related to race, Castro thought, were perhaps the most contagious. Moreover, the Jews, who have always seen themselves as God’s “chosen people” (which to Castro meant the finest race), treated the Spaniards as racially inferior. The Spaniards, however, reversed the Jews’ assessment, while adopting, in principle, a racial scale of values. They came to view themselves as far superior to the Jews, and reacted to the converts’ scorn for their race with a fury of racial contempt and discrimina¬ tion. Thus were born, according to Castro, the theory and policy of limpieza de sangre.4 Castro was a scholar of vast erudition, original thinking, and a remarkable ability to penetrate deep beneath the surface of documents that modern research had salvaged from the past. Scholarship owes him much for his studies on the conversos and the converso problem, and particularly on the influence the conversos wielded in various spheres of Spanish culture. His theory of the origins of the limpieza, however, was wrong in both its premises and conclusions. To be sure, to substantiate it Castro adduced certain statements from ancient and medieval sources which, he believed, verified his claim regarding the Jewish origin of the limpieza. Yet in a study I have devoted to the subject, I have demonstrated that Castro’s evidence was faulty, based on wrong assumptions and, more often than not, on misinterpretations of the sources.5 Castro, in brief, could not prove his thesis that the Spanish racial attitudes toward the conversos were merely a reflection of Jewish influences. Nevertheless, considered more broadly, Castro’s theory cannot be dis¬ missed merely by disproving the evidence he adduced concerning the Jewish origin of the limpieza. Curiously enough, Castro failed to investigate the numerous utterances of the conversos on the race issue which certainly belong to this sphere of inquiry. In this work we have dealt extensively with these utterances, and as the reader can see, they unmistakably reflect a high opinion of the Jewish lineage,6 This may lead one to the conjecture that it is here—in this opinion of the conversos—that one should look for the source of the racial quarrel, and hence that Castro, although mistaken in his assump¬ tion that the racism of the Spaniards drew its inspiration from the Jews, may have nevertheless been right in asserting that it was provoked by the conver¬ sos. Thus, we have to inquire into the following propositions: (a) that the race theory was upheld by the conversos; (b) that they practiced it in their relations with the Old Christians; and (c) that the latter, who had never been racists, adopted it and expressed it in reverse form—in a counter-campaign aimed at the conversos. Obviously, to determine whether these propositions are true, we should examine them, among other things, in the light of the utterances left us by the conversos on the racial question.

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Vet before doing this, it is proper, we believe, to look at the works of Spanish Jews who were converted to Christianity before 1391. We refer primarily to the writings of such authors as Petrus Alphonsi and Alfonso de \ alladolid, which exerted much influence on the converts of the 15th century. What we see is that they do not include any reference to the Jewish people’s racial constitution as superior to that of any other people. In contrast, we find in them a great deal of reproach of the Jewish people’s views, laws and customs. The total effect of their criticism is such that the Jews appear foolish, grossly unethical and, of course, unworthy of respect. Without using the term race, these converts portray the Jews as a human species that is clearly inferior, morally and intellectually, to the Christians.7 Nor do we find any statement or expression indicating the Jews’ racial excellence or superiority in the writings of converts who went over to Christianity in 1391 and the subsequent six decades. Following in the footsteps of the earlier converts, Paul of Burgos launched acrimonious attacks against the views and morals of the Jewish people, not only in the time.ofjesus but also in his own generation. He considers the Jews of his own time to belong to the old Pharisaic hypocrisy and calls them a “generation of vipers”—as Jesus called the Pharisees.8 These denunciations ofPaul of Burgos, moreover, pale when compared to those of Pedro de la Caballeria, who applied to the Jews the most demeaning terms he could find about them in the Old and New Testaments, as well as in the literature of the Church Fathers. Thus, the Jews who denied Jesus are described by Pedro not only as “vipers,” but also as an “accursed seed,” “sons of the devil,” a “perverse generation,” and of course as people whose malice and pride blinded them to the apparent truth.9 Jeronimo de Santa Fe is more controlled in his criticism of the Jews; but he too lashes out mercilessly at what he considers their follies, their blunders, and their distortions of the divine teachings.10 None of these converts speaks anywhere in his writings of the racial excellence of the Jewish people, or of its racial superiority over the gentiles, even though Paul refers to the tribe of the Levites as constituting the spiritual elite among the Jews and the ancient bearers of the divine teachings.11 The first converso document referring to the race question as a factor in the relations between the Old and New Christians is the letter of complaint that the conversos of Aragon addressed to Pope Eugene IV in 1437. The complaint, as we have seen, centered on the discrimination practiced against the conversos by the Old Christians of Aragon, and above all on the refusal of the Old Christians to establish conjugal ties with the New, solely on the grounds of the latter’s allegedly base and inferior race.12 The mention by the conversos of their relationship to Christ was not meant to indicate their racial superiority, but their right to equality in a Christian society. Its purpose was to clinch the argument for that right by pointing to the bizarre and incredible

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fact that the people from whom Christ “took His flesh” were not considered good enough for marriage—indeed, even association—with other Christians. One can clearly deduce from that complaint that the originators of the racial attitude toward the converts were not the New Christians but the Old. We also gather this from many other statements in various works pro¬ duced by New Christians. There is not, in fact, a single converso document dealing with the race issue in one form or another that was not produced in response to an attack—that is, to an anti-converso disparaging argumentation or hostile legislation on racial grounds. This was what impelled Fernan Diaz de Toledo to write his Instruction in 1449; this again was what led Cardinal Torquemada and Alonso de Cartagena, the bishop of Burgos, to launch their counterattacks upon the Toledan racists; this was what induced Diego de Valera to express his favorable view of the Jewish race in the tract he wrote on the conversos’ right to join the Spanish nobility; and this was also what prompted Pulgar to take his stand on the racial question (in 1478).13 This fact in itself indicates clearly where the source of the trouble lay. Yet not only the origins of these responses, but also their very tenor and contents testify to this quite clearly. As we noted in our survey of their views on the subject, the conversos stressed the common origin of mankind and essentially denied the existence of “races” in the true sense of the word. What appeared as racial differences, they argued, were merely reflections of the national divisions formed in mankind by its religious disunion, but Christian¬ ity does not recognize such distinctions and expects their total disappearance with its triumph—that is, when mankind is reunited under the banner of the one true faith. Obviously, such a view precluded the attribution of racial excellence to any group of men, and this applied also to the Jewish people, which was chosen by God to guide mankind to the truth and serve as the carnal origin of Christ. To be sure, the Jews became distinguished from all others by a set of moral attitudes and practices, but this distinction resulted from God’s special care and His prophets’ education, and not from any racial heritage. All this was of course in accord with Christian teachings as accepted by the Church for many generations. No Christian thinker had ever claimed that the Jews were “chosen” for racial reasons, and few denied that as God's people they were blessed with certain moral assets. The idea took root in all parts of Christian literature. Also the Siete Partidas writes: “In ancient times thejews were held in great respect and they alone were known as the People of God.”14 To be sure, in most of their writings on the subject (such as those of Valera, Cartagena and Torquemada), the conversos praised the Jewish people to high heaven, and even presented it as the noblest and saintliest of all the families of man. But what should be noted at this point is that, when they were thus lauding thejews, they invariably referred to thejews of antiquity,

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who were bent on fulfilling their extraordinary mission. In ancient times, they stressed, the Jews were the only people that possessed, besides the “natural” and “civil” nobilities, also the “theological” one, which is the highest; but then, because of their sins against Christ, they completely lost their theological nobility and also much of the other two nobilities, of which they preserved only certain traces in a poor or repressed condition. It follows that the Jews who are converted to Christianity come to Christendom not as a superior but rather as a deprived, crippled race, lacking the advantages of the three nobilities, which only the Christian nations possess. To be sure, they claimed that, once they are converted, their noble qualities are bound to reappear (without telling us precisely in what measure). Even so, they agreed that this might take time,is and thus, even in their Christian exis¬ tence—at least, in the early phase of that existence—the conversos portrayed themselves not as superior, but as inferior to the other Christian nations. What they insisted on was only that potentially they had the capacity to rise to higher levels; and what they opposed was only the attempt—inconsistent as it was with the principles of Christianity—to prevent that potential from becoming actual. Since I have discussed the conversos’ views on race in several places in this volume, I shall touch here merely on a few points, which should help remove any doubt or obscurity that may still linger in connection with this matter. When the conversos expressed their belief that potentially they were still likely to achieve higher levels, both social and spiritual, they did not suggest that they wished to resume the position of the “chosen people.” The “chosen people,” they knew, were now the Christians, who had replaced ancient Israel as the people of God; and therefore all they could attain in Christendom was spiritual equality, not superiority. But they also knew that in a Christian society, which recognized “neither Greek nor Jew,” there should be no discrimination against any person on grounds of racial or national origin, and instead there should be a complete equilibrium in the rights of all its mem¬ bers to exercise their abilities. It was in the name of this equilibrium that the conversos opposed the suppression of their potential and the denial of their right to rise to any level, including their accession to the noble classes, should their abilities, attested by performance, warrant such elevation. The racial arguments presented by the conversos developed therefore in the course of self-defense—in their responses to racial affronts against them and their forbears, both recent and ancient. It was only the constant harping of their foes on their racial perversion and inferiority that forced them to come up with the opposite idea—namely, that of their original racial excel¬ lence, with which they defended not only their own but also their ancestors’ honor. Actually, however, the conversos were interested not in superiority but in equality—or, more clearly, in equal opportunity. Accordingly, they

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had little regard for racial differentiation between social classes as well. They believed that differences among men should be based on individual talents, merits and achievements, rather than on lineages. The true nobility, they thought, was that of virtue, not of descent. This is the sum total of the opinion of Valera, of Pulgar, of Lucena, who puts in the mouth of the bishop of Burgos the words that “noble is he who owns virtue and not a parental heritage.”16 The whole discussion of their racial origin was indeed forced upon them by their opponents; had they not been attacked on racial grounds, they would certainly not have opened the debate. Castro was therefore wrong in assuming that the racist movement which arose in Spain owed its origin to the conversos, who allegedly borrowed their ideas from the Jews. Consequently, he was also wrong in concluding that the racial agitation against the conversos was essentially a reaction to that of the New Christians, who allegedly started the racial quarrel. The truth was the opposite. And since he mistook the identity of the source, he could not possibly discern the historical causes that led to the rise of the racial theory in Spain and the functions it fulfilled in the evolving conflict between the Old and New Christians.

II

Turning to these questions, we must pointedly ask: What was the special need that impelled the Old Christians to produce their race theory and espouse it with such force when other grave charges (such as that of heresy) were leveled at the conversos at that very time—that is, in the middle of the 15th century? Above all, what function did the race theory fulfill in the evolution of the anti-converso campaign, and what made it so appealing to the Spanish masses that it served as the basis for their norms of behavior in many a sphere, both social and religious, for the next three hundred years? To answer these questions we must go back to the early stages of the racial movement and the first documents expounding its ideas. As we have noted, many Old Christians, who were disadvantaged in their competition with the New, looked for ways to rid themselves of their converso rivals. They thought that an anti-converso legislation might be the best means to attain this end, and by this they meant the passing of laws forbidding the conversos to work in any field in which they might compete with Old Christians. In a sense, it was along the lines of this solution that the Sentencia-Estatuto was enacted. Yet it was not a solution easy to attain, for it had to be accepted by a Christian society based on legal foundations. In such a society, no laws could be enacted against any of its groups, unless the members of the group considered for discrimination shared some special quality—a common denomi-

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nator—which was supposed to justify that enactment. And what was the common denominator of the conversos that might serve as grounds for placing them all under social or economic disabilities? Surely the fact that some of them were involved in competition with Old Christians over certain public posts would not warrant the imposition of limitations on all conversos in that particular field. Similarly, the fact that some of the conversos com¬ peted with Old Christians in the sphere of jurisprudence could not call for barring all conversos from the legal profession. And the same would apply of course to their engagement in such areas as commerce, industry and finance. Obviously, the conversos’ occupational division was an obstacle to any antiMarrano legislation of a social-economic nature. To be sure, in 1412 laws were issued in Castile—and in 1413, also in Aragon—forbidding all Jews to engage in professions which, in fact, were practiced only by some of them. But then it was not their professional activi¬ ties but their religion that supplied the common denominator justifying legal discrimination against them. The conversos, however, were not Jews—they were Christians; and thus their religion could not provide the prerequisite for the issuance of laws against their group. It would be of course a different matter if it could be proved that the Marranos were false Christians, or at least if this criminal imposture could be credibly imputed to most of them. This indeed was the claim that their enemies in Toledo set out to demonstrate in their Inquiry of 1449; and it was on the basis of the findings of that Inquiry that they hoped to be able to denounce all conversos as stubborn and irremediable religious sinners. In fact, when they submitted their Petition to the king, they expected this to be the outcome of their Inquiry, so that the incrimination of the conversos as heretics could rest on acceptable legal grounds. But upon examining the charges contained in the Statute, we could see that the conclusions arrived at by the Inquiry were far from fulfilling the Toledans’ expectations. On the grounds of those conclusions, the Toledans could not claim that all or most Marranos were Judaizers—a claim that was further undermined by the fact that in the cases of “Judaizers” tried in their courts (and these cases were by no means numerous), the Toledans had to employ false witnesses; and thus, the most that might be gathered from their inquiries and judgments was that some of the conversos, a small minority, sympathized with Judaism or prac¬ ticed Jewish rites, while their great majority followed Christianity and had no intent whatever to forsake it. This meant that in religion, as well as in economy, the Marranos were divided in their interests and performance; and hence, as in economy, so in their religion, they did not project a common denominator that might justify the enactment of laws against their group. Faced with this difficulty, the opponents of the conversos came up with the claim that all New Christians, though not proven to be Judaizers, must

982]

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nevertheless be held suspect of heresy, and thus their being suspect provided the prerequisite for a general anti-converso legislation. Nevertheless, even this limited claim was found to be inadequate to serve their purpose. For all that the Toledans could assert in this matter was that “very many” Marranos were suspect, from which one could conclude that they could not attach that suspicion of heresy to most Marranos. Yet on the grounds of mere suspicion of a minority, they could not issue the kind of laws they contemplated, or obtain the needed support for those laws. Inevitably the Toledans were led to the conclusion that they had to come up with a new accusation, another principle and a different argument to justify the legal degradation of the conversos and eventually their exclusion from the Christian society. The racial doctrine set forth in 1449 supplied that need. Looking for a quality common to all conversos, and at the same time so negative as to support the issuance of harsh, restrictive laws against them, the racial theo¬ rists believed that such a quality should be sought not in what the Marranos did or believed, but in what they -were as human beings. This did not seem to be a difficult task. For what they voere was determined by their ethnic origin—or rather, as they put it, by their race. Since race, they maintained, formed man’s qualities and indeed his entire mental constitution, the Mar¬ ranos, who were all offspring of Jews, retained the racial makeup of their forbears. Hence ethnically they were what they (or their ancestors) had been before their conversion to Christianity; in other words, they were Jews. This approach and conclusion of the racists were of extraordinary impor¬ tance for the anti-Marrano movement. If it was difficult to prove the Jewish¬ ness of the Marranos on religious grounds, there was no difficulty—in fact, no need—to prove it on ethnic grounds. There was no denying the fact that ethnically the Marranos were Jews, and few could or would challenge the contention (or, from the racist standpoint, the implication) that they inher¬ ited many of the Jews’ social attitudes, including their alleged hatred of Christians. Not only could such an argument be sufficient to stigmatize the Marranos as enemies of their neighbors, and thus disqualify them for Chris¬ tian citizenship; it would also implant and sustain the notion of their insepara¬ bility from the Jews. In brief, the race theory identified the New Christians with the Jews much more than their religious origin might suggest, and by stressing that identity, their Jewish identity, one could mobilize against the Marranos all the antipathy and antagonism that were latent in Spanish society toward the Jews. The ethnicity of the conversos was thus the common quality on the basis of which, the racists believed, they could take drastic measures against the conversos that would be sanctioned by law. Obviously, by having their anti-converso charges rest primarily on this quality, they transferred the

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center of gravity of their accusations from the sphere of religion to that of race; and this inevitably caused certain changes in the contents and emphases of their censures. But from this we ought not to infer that the racists relin¬ quished the claims about thejewish heresy of which the Marranos had been accused. In fact, they persisted in making these claims, as well as in stressing their importance; and they also asserted that they could prove them true by the postulates of their racial theory. These postulates have already been discussed, and here we shall touch only on some of their ideas that relate to our present discussion. Race, they said, endows man, among other things, with his basic moral qualities and dispositions, which in turn dictate his religion. Hence the Jewish moral propensities, inherited by the Marranos from the Jews, must sooner or later determine their religion—which means that those who are racially Jews are also, or will be, religiously Jews. Obviously, this conclusion not only denied any immediate benefit from the Marranos’ conversion, but also the possibility that the Marranos might at any time become true Christians. It was, in fact, only on the basis of this theory, which they attached to their charge of heresy, that they could issue their law (i.e., the Sentencia-Estatuto) denying all New Christians the right to public office for all time, present and future. Nor did the racists abandon the charges leveled at the conversos in the social-economic field. Rather did they affirm, emphasize and broaden them by a multitude of new and even harsher charges, so that all the conversos’ social-economic deeds appeared as one long sequence of offenses. Never did they suggest that any of these offenses stemmed from such circumstances as distress, or fear, or moral confusion, or provocation, or the like, which so often lead man to crime. All the Marranos’ misdeeds, they stressed, had only one source: the converso’s race, his mental constitution, his urge to do evil to all men of goodwill, and the ruthless egotism that unscrupulously com¬ mands him to use his victims’ assets for his own profit. Thus we see how the racists grafted the social-economic crimes ascribed to the conversos onto the trunk of their racial theory, just as they grafted onto it the religious transgres¬ sions—i.e., the Judaic heresies—that were likewise attributed to the New Christians. It was due to this absorption by racism of all the currents of the antiMarrano movement that the racists gained from the outset a large following. But beyond this there was another factor contributing to the widespread acceptance of their message; and this was the affinity between the racial theory—or rather some elements of that theory—and the general view of the conversos as a group that prevailed among the Old Christians.

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III

Our survey of the anti-Marrano works produced by Spain’s racists in the 15th century has convinced us that they belonged to the category of writings called by the Germans “atrocity propaganda”—that is, agitation that ascribes to an opponent such loathsome improprieties and such deeds of horror that the general public is moved to view him as both despicable and frightful. It is senseless to look for levelheaded observation or desire for truth in such campaigns. Truth is the last thing that these campaigners seek. Their aim is to get popular support for the dreadful fate they have in store for their opponent; and to achieve this aim, they paint a picture of that opponent so hateful and repulsive, and indeed so shocking, that it must rouse people to condemn him. Such was the anti-Marrano literature that denounced the conversos as heretics. Accordingly, there is hardly a vice, a crime, or an instance of foul play that is not attributed to the conversos. The epithets used to describe their qualities are: false, hypocritical, deceitful, treacherous, cowardly, shameless, pompous, boastful, arrogant and, above all, wicked, cruel, and merciless. Generally, they are defined as tyrants, oppressors, idol-worshipers, sodomites, false prophets, thieves, robbers, murderers and, needless to say, heretics and Judaizers. The picture has not a single redeeming feature. The Marranos are evil incarnate. What is most ominous about these charges is that all of them, save one or two, were attributed to all conversos. Accordingly, a whole people, or at least a whole tribe, numbering hundreds of thousands of individuals, consisted of criminals and base, vile men. Not one of them was presumed to be decent. All of them, regardless of class or profession, were vicious, ruthless and villainous. Their officials were traitors, their doctors were killers, their drug¬ gists poisoners, their priests blackmailers, and all of them hardened, habitual criminals devoid of any moral sense. Could there be such a society of men? Were the Marranos such a society? Did none of them do a decent day’s work, earn a living by honest toil, conscientiously fulfill the duties of office, or devote himself to higher ideals than robbery? The authors of this literature wanted people to believe that the answer to all these questions was no. This, then, is the picture of the converso that the racists presented to the public. And in view of this picture we cannot be surprised that it generated so much hate of the New Christians—and also so much fear of their inten¬ tions—that many Old Christians came to treat the conversos as carriers of a lethal disease. Similar to this was the attitude toward the Jews that devel¬ oped under the impact of ferocious campaigns in times such as those of the Black Death, and one might infer from the sameness of the effect the same-

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ness of the cause that produced it. As we shall see, however, we should not be too hasty to draw such an inference. Parkes, who studied the development of the conception of the Jew in Christian literature, came to the conclusion that as early as the fourth century the Jew was portrayed by Christian authors as a “monster”—not as a human being, but as a “theological abstraction of superhuman malice and cunning.” The crimes imputed to him were rarely “human,” and “little evidence” was drawn against him from “contemporary behavior” or from his part in “contemporary affairs.”17 The view of the Jew as described and disseminated by the Christian theologians of that time was of a creature whose mission in life was to serve the Devil and do his heinous work. In the last four centuries of the medieval era the outlines of this image were sharpened and deepened, while the crimes imputed to the Jews were multi¬ plied and became steadily more appalling. They now included such ghastly atrocities as the murder of Christian children for religious rites, the torture of Hosts by piercing or boiling them, and the use of sorcery to inflict cruel death upon multitudes of Christians. To be sure, in a sense these crimes were “human” (for murder was after all a human crime), but essentially they were inhuman and demoniac, since they were committed at the devil’s behest and frequently by means of magic. They were also inhuman because the Jew performed them without seeking to derive from them any benefit for himself. His sole interest in perpetrating these crimes was to vent the devil’s wrath, which filled his soul, on Christ and His believers. Was this image of the Jew as portrayed by the friars identical with that of the Spanish Marrano as depicted by his racist foes? One must answer this question in the negative. To be sure, the image the racists drew of the converso was likewise of a monstrous being; but it was a human monster that the racists were thinking of, whose qualities and tendencies, however repel¬ lent, were human qualities and tendencies. Also, his crimes, however mali¬ cious, were not effected by means of sorcery and, unlike the great crimes imputed to the Jews, were aimed at achieving some advantage for himself. Rarely do we find in the literature of these racists a reference to an atrocity of a “religious” nature for which a converso was held responsible,18 and unlike the crimes attributed to thejews, those ascribed to the conversos were intimately connected with their “contemporary behavior,’ or rather with their action in “contemporary affairs.” Evidently, the hatred of the converso, which the racists fomented, was such as could be related to his daily activi¬ ties, and hence to his “human” side, to his “nature,” or his “race, and not to his relations with supernatural forces. This was the main difference between the image of the New Christian presented by the racists in 15th century Spain and that of the Jew portrayed

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by the spokesmen of Christian antisemitism in the Middle Ages. It is neces¬ sary for us to note this difference in order to understand the social attitude toward the conversos and the rise of the myth about the deadly plans they devised to destroy the Old Christians. Indeed, one may note the peculiarity of these plans when one compares the secret anti-Christian schemes at¬ tributed to the Jews of Europe in the middle of the 14th century (in connec¬ tion with the Black Death) and those imputed to the conversos by the Spanish racists in the middle of the 15th. For here one may readily discern the distinction between the “devilish” and the “human” crimes allegedly contrived—and, in part, carried out-—by the different perpetrators. Whereas the alleged Jewish schemes were said to be invented to annihilate whole Christian populations—and this without promising the Jews any profit—the plan ascribed to the conversos was aimed, apart from wreaking vengeance on the Old Christians, at bringing the conversos massive wealth and power. But in addition, it had the characteristic of being connected with a real issue—a “contemporary” development in which the conversos were involved—that kept agitating the public mind. That issue was the expansion of the conversos into virtually all the ad¬ ministrations of the country and the opposition which that expansion en¬ countered, especially in the larger cities. The racists of course encouraged that opposition with every argument they could muster. But as in other cases, in this case too they stretched their arguments so as to extend from the sphere of reality to that of fiction, and ultimately have their imaginary parts substi¬ tute for the factual elements. Thus, the racists considered it puerile to assume, as many Old Christians had undoubtedly done, that all that the conversos were trying to achieve in their effort to occupy additional offices were so many more positions for their people or so many more incomeyielding posts. According to the racists, what the conversos were after was to capture the country’s government; in consequence, the Old Christians would be subject to their rule, their ruthless exploitation and, finally, their enslave¬ ment. f rom our foregoing discussions of the issue of the offices, we could see how the struggle for power in Castile reached such extremes of passion and violence, and gave birth to so many devious designs, that people kept won¬ dering what plots were being hatched and what subversive actions were being prepared for the immediate future. Especially mysterious seemed to some Castilians the role of the conversos in those struggles; for while on some occasions they appeared uninvolved, on others they were seen in the thick of the conflicts. One should also bear in mind that this was the time when the Relator Fernan Diaz was believed by many to be the real head, the guiding force of the royal bureaucracy of Castile, and when the influence of the conversos in the royal Council was such as to enable them, within a few

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years, to terminate Alvaro de Luna’s career. Moreover, the strength of the conversos’ drive for the offices was attested by their expansion into all the country’s administrations in the days of Enrique IV, too—and this despite the incessant campaign conducted against them since the forties. Could this expansion be merely the result of fortuitous endeavors of converso individu¬ als? Inevitably, there were many Old Christians who hesitated to answer this question in the affirmative. And thus the rise of the conversos to so many high positions and the growth of their influence, seemingly irresistible, could not pass without causing occasional tremors in various Old Christian circles. It produced a certain feeling of uneasiness, which was in the beginning dim and obscure, but ultimately became a source of real anxiety in more than a few quarters. It was this feeling that the racists depended on, cultivated, and made use of in their agitation. But the question of the offices and the controls they involved was not the only “contemporary issue” that supplied fodder for the racists’ campaign. Another was the steady process of intermarriage between the Old and New Christians. The Church, as we have seen, favored this process and unstintingly urged both sides to follow it. The conversos, too, were anxious to advance it, and Alfonso de Cartagena was looking forward to the day when the converso “river” would merge with and disappear in the waters of the great Christian “sea.” Yet from the racists’ point of view, intermarriage between the groups—that is, the Old and New Christians—confronted Christian Spain with a peril even greater than all the other threats posed by the conversos. For not only would intermarriage help the conversos take over Christian offices and possessions; it would also infect the Spanish people with a malady from which it might never recover. What they meant by this was that by marrying Old Christians, the conversos would “contaminate” the latter’s blood; and if this contamination became widespread, it would corrupt the Spanish character beyond repair and eventually cause its disappearance. Thus, from the standpoint of the anti-Marrano racists, their conflict with the conversos was infinitely more crucial than their struggle against thejews; for while thejews were opposed for what they were, the conversos were opposed for both what they were and what they wanted to become—namely, an integral, indistinguishable part of the Spanish people. If the charge that the conversos were steadily engaged in taking over the government was a myth, the claim that their intermarriage with Old Chris¬ tians was motivated by their desire to rob the latter of their assets was not much closer to reality. To be sure, both sides, Old and New Christians, married each other for a variety of reasons, but so far as material gain was concerned, it could probably be attributed as a leading motive much more to the Old Christians than to the New.19 In any case, the racists saw the conversos steadily increase their rate of intermarriage, just as they noted the

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converso advances in the sphere of public offices. Hence, the stand the racists took on intermarriage did not reflect opposition to an abstract principle, advocated by the Church at the Marranos’ instigation, or to a plan urged by the Marranos in their preachings and writings. It was an objection to some¬ thing visible and concrete—to an aspiration that was daily being translated into reality. Says the Relator in 1449 about the state of intermarriage at that time: “There are many houses in Castile, both of laymen and clerics, of the lineages of nobles as well as of Caballeros, and of townsmen [of the middle and high classes20], whose members are sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons of people who came from the stock of Israel.”21 This shows that when the Relator wrote these words, intermarriage had spread to all estates and classes of the Spanish people (save the peasants and low-class laborers). Yet this should in no way surprise us. The growing penetration of the conversos into the nobility and the example set by the nobility for intermarriage; the greatly increased wealth of the conversos and the wider dissemination of that wealth among their ranks; and, above all, the full-fledged Christianization of numer¬ ous conversos, which brought them much closer to the Christian way of life, were major factors that helped open for the conversos the doors of ethnic fusion. To be sure, by the middle of the 15th century the movement of intermar¬ riage between Old and New Christians was still limited and of moderate proportions. Yet it was the steady progress of that movement that alarmed the opposition and roused it to action. No doubt many of its members believed that Spain was on the eve of a flood of mixed marriages which would sweep away much of the nation; and this was, in our judgment, the second reason why racism arose at that particular time. By virtue of its view of the Jewish race and the function of the conversos in Spanish society, racism saw itself as the only force capable of averting the “menace of intermarriage.” In any case, the widespread acceptance of its message shows where most Spaniards stood on this issue. Spain reacted to the absorption of the Jews as an organism reacts to a foreign element; and the antibody it produced to that absorption was the racial theory. Thus we touch upon the other inducement for the racists to hurl the harshest racial criticisms against the Jews and their kinsmen, the conversos. For the theory that aimed at blocking ethnic fusion between the Old and New Christians could be truly effective only if the conversos were described as inferior, base and unworthy. It was especially vital, from the racists’ standpoint, to besmirch the conversos and blacken their name at a time when their general prestige was rising, owing to their achievements in various walks of life and the high reputation that some of them attained in the governments of Church and state. The racist campaign warned the nation not

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to be dazzled by these “misleading lights,” for behind the glittering facade of their fame, there lay corruption, depravity and evil. Obviously, the purpose of this defamation was to erect a new, impassable division between the conversos and their fellow Spaniards, when the old barriers that had kept them apart—i.e., the religious and cultural differences—were crumbling and had almost disappeared. And they could expect this division to be impassable because it related to man’s innermost qualities, his basic constitution—and indeed his very being. In the language of the time, there was no better way of expressing this newly conceived difference than by using the term pure blood as completely distinct from, and indeed antithetic to the polluted blood of the Jews.

That such a distinction was capable of attracting many an Old Christian to the racial theory is manifest for other reasons, too. It flattered his ego and raised him automatically, without requiring any effort on his part, to a higher level than that of any converso, however famous or successful. This is why the race theory appealed especially to the lower classes and those of the middle class and lower nobility, whose ambitions remained unfulfilled. The phenomenal rise of the conversos in all spheres puzzled these groups no less than it dismayed them. How did it happen, they inevitably asked themselves, that they who were yesterday despised Jews, and most of them, upon their conversion, destitute, became overnight so rich and influential? That this happened largely as a result of the freedom the conversos were given to exercise their powers—and that, in addition, it was due to their industry, their learning, their ingenuity, their frugality, their driving force and, perhaps above all, their talents, was an answer which these groups refused to accept. To accept it would mean to ascribe their low condition to their lack of the qualities that make for success. It would mean an admission of the conversos’ superiority, or even worse, of their own inferiority—an admission which their self-respect could not permit. Consequently, they looked for another explanation, one that would heal their wounded pride and restore their shaken faith in themselves. Such an explanation was offered them by the racists, according to whose theories the attainments of the conversos were not due to any virtues, which they never owned, but to the vices and defects which they had in abundance. Above all, it was due to their falsehood and deception, which enabled them quickly to obtain by fraud what no honest man could attain by fair means. Hence, if the Old Christians were overtaken by the conversos in the race for social and economic achievements, it was not because they lacked talent or initiative, but because they would not use such devious methods as those employed by the conversos. Moreover, by claiming that the conversos had

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ensnared by their wiles whole sections of the Spanish people, the racist theoreticians freed many Old Christians from any responsibility for their misfortunes. Accordingly, they should view their poor attainments and low station not as the result of personal deficiencies, but as so many incidents of the general calamity that had befallen the nation. Thus we can see that what the racists achieved was not only to bolster the ego of the deprived; they also justified their individual envies, combining them into a multiple force—a common grudge that had to be satisfied, a collective wrong that had to be avenged, and a national cause to fight for. We should now be in a better position to understand the favorable reaction of the Spanish populace to the answer given by the racists to their question: What should be done to such a vile group, which caused so much damage to the Old Christians and threatened them with such terrible dangers? Obvi¬ ously, the racists were not satisfied at all with the methods of resistance employed by the burghers. They were far from being satisfied with denying the conversos further occupation of official positions. What was necessary, in their opinion, was to oust the conversos from all the offices they held, since each such office was an enemy outpost from which the adversary might resume his attack. Nor were they satisfied with the anti-converso laws that were—or could be—adopted in the cities. They knew that the conversos would subvert these laws or influence the kings to abolish them. They also saw no way to stop intermarriage as long as the conversos were present in the country, and they knew that expulsion was not a solution the kings would ever accept. The only way to avert the disasters with which the New Christians threatened the Old ones was, therefore, a large-scale massacre of the conversos—a massacre that could be effected across the country if the people were sufficiently aroused and inflamed. What the racists proposed, then, was a large-scale bloodbath, mass extermination or, to use the language of our time, genocide. The genocidal solution of the converso problem no doubt drew upon medieval methods of dealing with the Jews in the West; but in recognizing this we cannot insist on the exclusiveness of this influence. The genocidal proposition we are here considering developed out of the racial theory about the conversos just as fruit develops form a kernel. It was obvious that the extreme, irreparable evil which allegedly inhered in the Jewish nature had to be treated in an extreme manner: since it was incorrigible, it had to be annihilated—for the good of Christianity and mankind as a whole. Thus we see how, in the midst of a people whose Christian zeal could in no way be doubted, a theory based on racism appeared whose three major articles of faith were: the existence of a conspiracy to seize the government of Spain; the ongoing “contamination” of the “blood” of the Spanish people; and the need to do away wTith these frightful dangers through a genocidal solution

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of the converso problem. No less than racism itself, these three postulates were alien to everything Christianity stood for or had ever taught about the Jews. That such a theory could hold its own and, moreover, gain ground against the doctrines of the Church, until it finally overcame the Church’s opposition and became an established social principle in Spain, indicates that it was driven by a far stronger force than any obstacle the Church could put in its way. It remains for us to clarify the nature of that force and identify the source from which it sprang.

IV

There is a major problem posed by Spanish racism that has not been tackled or even raised by scholars. It can be formulated in two or three questions, each related to the rise of racism and the early stages of its theoretical evolution. When was it born? And what prompted its emergence? In 1449, when the Toledan racists launched their first violent assault on the conversos, racism had the marks of a complete theory, whose postulates were set and arguments prepared on almost every question involved. Such a theory must have required a considerable time to develop—a requirement which would preclude the assumption that it was shaped during the Toledan rebellion or only several months before it. Indeed, in our survey of various phenomena that may be viewed as antecedents of 1449, we have noticed a clear racist trend leading to the outbreak of 1449. We could discern it in the various anti-Marrano programs openly proposed on the grounds of race from 1414 on—programs which, among other things, denied the conversos the right to enter college, or serve in public offices or intermarry with Old Christians. To be sure, the documents we have traced present no reasons for that racial discrimination; they do not tell us, for instance, that the conversos’ race was “inferior,” or “corrupt,” or “polluting,” or the like; nor do they suggest that the required disabilities were indicated in Scripture, or agreed to by Chris¬ tianity; nevertheless, it is certain that some reasons were given in justification of the proposed measures and that these reasons formed in due time the basis of the theory espoused in 1449. The silence surrounding the racist arguments in the documents antedating the Toledan rebellion makes us wonder, of course. Perhaps it testifies to the strong opposition which those arguments were expected to provoke, and thus they were not expounded publicly, though they were uttered, discussed and elaborated in the inner circles of their protagonists. In fact, in 1449 Cardinal Torquemada tells us that for a long time the racist agitators did not dare preach their gospel publicly, that they moved about in “corners,” as he put it. This suggests that for a consider¬ able period racism was a semi-underground movement that did not dare to come out in the open. When it did come out, however, its theory was

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full-fledged and its various circles were combined and organized into a substantial faction. It is clear, then, that both as a theory and as a movement, racism grew at least for several decades in the sixty years that followed the great riots (1391—1449), and it is also evident that throughout this period it fostered increasing hate for the New Christians and built up the image of moral monstrosity that finally was openly related to the conversos. It is evident that these three elements of racism—the concept, the image, and the ferocious hatred—were geared to achieve, as their primary aim, the expulsion of the conversos from all the spheres they had entered as equal citizens in Christian Spain. Essentially, the racists expressed in all this the same attitude that had guided their ancestors in 1392, when they sought to drive out the converts from their cities by means of “injuries, disgraces and damages.” To be sure, the measures then taken by the Old Christians could still be considered in a sense preventive, aiming at blocking or hindering a development in which they did not want to acquiesce, whereas those proposed later by the racists were revocative, as they tended to repeal established laws and abolish a given situation. Yet they all rested on the same idea and were inspired by the same principle: the inadmissibility of the conversos into Spain’s Christian society. It was from the adherence of so many Old Christians to that principle of inadmissibility that their long, bitter conflict with the conversos emerged. And thus, to determine the causes of this conflict, we must recognize the roots of that potent attitude and the elemental feelings with which it was imbued. What was it in the New Christian, the convert from Judaism, that moved the Old Christians to reject him so adamantly? Or more broadly: What was it in the Old Christian view of the converso that made him so disliked and opposed?

What we must first note about this view is the function that religion fulfilled in its formation as a dominant opinion in the Christian world. To the Christians, the Jews represented, above all, a religious entity, the followers of a faith, or the adherents of a law (the Mosaic Law), with which they were involved in a bitter quarrel. But they also appeared as members of a people which, owing to its unique historic course (bizarre and perverse, according to Christianity), remained attached to its old faith. In the evolution of Judaism, as seen in Christian eyes, the people and the faith became coexten¬ sive. But apart from the Christian interpretation of history, these two forms of Jewish existence no doubt reflected an objective reality for most of the periods of Jewish life. In the Middle Ages, certainly, the two elements referred to—i.e., the Jews’ peoplehood and religion—were so intertwined

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and indeed so blended that they seemed to be an indissoluble whole. It was only when thejew was converted to another faith that the seemingly indivisi¬ ble union was disrupted and its two major elements were laid bare. To be sure, the Church maintained that conversion to Christianity obliterated the components of that union, for thejew, upon conversion, left not only his faith, but also his people. But this was not the view ofjewish law. Distinguishing between the Jew’s religion and his peoplehood, Jewish law insisted that the convert from Judaism, though he renounced his faith, re¬ mained a member of his people, thereby retaining also some of the rights which that status conferred upon him. What is more, it attributed the same membership to his offspring, provided their mothers were ofjewish descent, even when these offspring were, like himself, religiously non-Jewish. Curi¬ ously enough, the view of the Jewish convert that prevailed among the Old Christians, or at least among the members of the anti-Marrano party, was closer to that ofjewish law than to the view upheld by the Church. The position of the Church was dictated, we must note, not only by its view of the Jews and Jewish history but also by its concepts of the structure of mankind and the destiny of Christianity. Its stand on the issues raised by these concepts was determined by its abstract and cosmopolitan approach. It divided men into Christian and non-Christian and was little concerned with national differences or differences stemming from ethnic origin. Its ideal was to see all mankind as one flock led by one shepherd—the Vicar of Christ. But historical reality conflicted with that ideal and often put Church ideology to the test. It was essentially this conflict between the Church’s political the¬ ory—or rather its universalist outlook—and the living feelings of Europe’s rising nations that placed Church policies under severe strain and ultimately led to the Reformation. The same kind of strain was experienced by the Church in the wake of the struggle that developed in Spain between the Old and New Christians. By 1435, during the Council of Basle, forty-five years after the first great conversion and more than twenty years after the second, the Church must have realized that something had gone wrong with the Jewish converts’ assimilation in Spain. Judging by the decree issued in the Council, it is evident that the Church sought to counteract the opposition displayed by Spain’s Old Christians to the converts, but it is also apparent that it failed to diagnose the underlying causes of that opposition. Hence its proposed pallia¬ tives. There was of course much truth in the Church’s belief that thejew, upon his conversion to Christianity, abandoned his people together with his reli¬ gion; and judging by the converts’ communal relationships, that belief was factually confirmed. Yet while the convert abandoned his people, his peoplehood did not abandon him. It was reflected in many of his characteristics, the

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product of numerous factors—ethnic, social, environmental and educa¬ tional—that had influenced Jewish life for centuries. These were essentially Jewish characteristics; and although assimilation had somewhat dimmed them, they could still be discerned in the Jewish convert even decades after his conversion. But this leads us to the following observation. If the above was true of individual converts, or small groups of converts from Judaism to Christianity (and, for that matter, to any other religion), it was doubly true in cases of mass conversion of the kind that occurred in 1391. To be sure, the desertion of the Jewish people by the convert could still be considered factual in these cases when viewed from the standpoint of its final outcome, or judged by his ties with the Jewish community, but it was not concrete if seen from the stand¬ point of his collective position following the conversion. For when masses of Jews were converted at the same time, each of them saw himself within his people and by no means as one who had forsaken it. In Spain, where these converts, or their great majority, lived for many years in boroughs of their own, this feeling of communion was kept alive as long as the process of assimilation had not destroyed, or seriously affected, the collective fabric. Also many characteristics of the Jew and his life-style, which even isolated converts retained for many years, were guarded for much larger periods in the converso communities. As a result, the converso could still be recog¬ nized—even several generations after his ancestors’ conversion—by his Jew¬ ish appearance, his habits and mannerisms, his attitudes and reactions, as well as his views on a variety of issues. In consequence, in the middle of the 15th century (and no doubt in many cases even later) the great majority of the New Christians in Spain had not yet shaken off the shadow of their past; and the result of this fact was the consciousness of their “otherness” that deter¬ mined the attitude of their neighbors. What precisely constituted the core of that “otherness” was of course not easy to determine. After decades of life in Christendom, one may assume, the convert appeared different from the Jew; yet this difference did not efface his basic Jewish features, and his otherness from Christians was felt just as keenly and generated the same hostile attitudes. For the Christian, who hated the Jew to the point of being anxious or prepared to kill him, disliked his whole being and not merely his religion, even when religion was claimed by the Christians to be the sole or major cause of their aversion. And therefore when, following the Jew’s conversion, his «o«-religious features continued to be manifest, they also continued to feed the hatred which the Old Christians had felt for him before his conversion. In vain did the Church exhort the Christians to remember that the Jew, once converted, was spiritually reborn, that the “New man” he put on had replaced the “Old” one, and that therefore they ought to show him brotherly affection and aid him in case of need. The

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Christian masses would not be convinced. What they saw before them was the same “Old man” whose Christianity did not change his overall image, but equipped him with rights and facilities that enabled him to interfere with their own lives. In consequence, that otherness of the converso, which was reflected by the wow-religious side of his being, soon stamped him not only as “different” from the Old Christians but also as a “foreigner” and, as such, as an “intruder.” This brought out the Jewishness of the Marranos from another standpoint—that of the relations between an alien minority and the majority within which it lives. Thus we touch again the direct cause, or the major root, of the deep-seated antipathy underlying the antagonism of the Old Christians toward the New. Essentially, it was the antagonism to the Jewish peoplehood that survived among the Marranos in the state of their conversion, and it is here that we find the point of affinity between the hatred of the Marranos by the Christian masses and the theoretical approaches of the racist movement.

To comprehend more fully what this implied, we should note that the conception of the Marranos as a people—the same people to which the Jews belonged—was expressed not only in the feelings and attitudes exhibited toward them by the Old Christians, but also in terms which testify clearly that the Marranos were viewed as a distinct nationality which, in more ways than one, was related to the Jews. Indeed, not only did their enemies so regard them, but also their friends among the Old Christians; and, what is more, they were so regarded by the Marranos themselves. The latter, who insisted that religiously they were Christians and had nothing to do with Judaism and its followers, could not help admitting their actual belonging to a separate entity, which they clearly defined. Three times does the Relator, in his Instruction, refer to the Marranos as a nation}1 Similarly, when Pulgar, in his letter to Cardinal Mendoza, suggests that Marranos inclined toward Judaism be educated in Christianity by mem¬ bers of their own group, he designates that group by the term nation.11 Also the anonymous Old Christian who polemicized with Pulgar says to him: “someone of your nation was appointed to instruct them” [i.e., the conver¬ ses].24 Likewise, Perez de Guzman, in his discussion of the New Christians, defines them twice as a nation2S; and opposing the detraction of the Marranos as a group, he says: “It is improper to condemn a whole nation”16 Also Palencia, in describing the conversos as viewed by the Old Christian critics, alludes to them as to a separate nation27; while Barrientos, speaking of the many Old Christians who have converso blood in their veins, says that almost all the “noble houses of Castile or their greater part are of the Israelitic nation”1* Naturally, when Valera refers to the Jews, the ancestors

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of the conversos, he describes them in the words of Deuteronomy, according to the Vulgate: “Is there another nation so noble?”29; and when he comes to the subject of theological nobility, he asks: “In which nation could be found so many nobles as in that of the Jews?”30 The Marranos, then, were identified as descendants of the Jewish nation—and, although converted, still as mem¬ bers of that nation—by themselves, their friends and their enemies alike. That their stock was now the major, or one of the major, components of their nationality was admitted by all concerned, the conversos included. When the Relator speaks of the converso “nation,” he defines it as belonging to the “stock” (Imaje) of our lord Jesus Christ.”31 In like manner does Diego de Valera speak of the Jewish people as the cradle of Christ and says that the Son of God “chose this lineage—of the Patriarchs, the Prophets and the Apostles—for himself as the most noble.”32 Accordingly, when the conversos of Aragon complain about the refusal of the Aragonese to intermarry with them, they point out that Jesus took His flesh from their own people— namely, that they, the conversos, are of the same race as that of the ancient Jews. Similarly, Juan de Torquemada identifies the conversos as Christians who descended from the people of Israel33; and when the Relator refers, in his letter to Barrientos, to Haman, he says that the bishop knew of the great persecutions that he, Haman, conducted against “our race” (nuestro linaje).34 Espina called them both “race” (genus) and “people” (gens),35 while Garda saw them as a special human “kind,” a stock and a “breed.”36 Descent, racial origin, their linaje, was now therefore one of the hallmarks of the Marranos; and it was indeed their main collective symptom, as indicated above. As a “nation apart,” despite their conversion, as a nation united by com¬ mon origin or race, the Marranos were thus exposed to the evaluation of their group as an alien national entity, whose fellowship with the people of the country must be questioned, and whose preparedness to betray it could be taken as likely even by moderate adversaries. When the chronicler Castillo criticizes the arch-rebels against King Enrique IV, and wishes to explain the reason for their readiness to enter such treacherous designs, he explains it by the fact that they belong to foreign nations,31 referring no doubt to Arch¬ bishop Carrillo and Juan Pacheco, who were of Portuguese origin, and to their converso allies, like Alvar Gomez and Pedrarias, who belonged, accord¬ ing to the common concept, to the Judaic a nacion. This view of the conversos is also reflected in Palencia’s report on the Old Christians’ belief that the conversos were “secretly plotting infamous conspiracies” against them.38 Palencia apparently shared this belief, for a plot like those “infamous conspir¬ acies” was contrived, he tells us, by the Toledan conversos, and it was largely to that imaginary scheme that he ascribed the outbreak of the conflict between them and the Old Christians in Toledo in 1467. It was also because of the prevalence of this view that the rebels of 1449 felt safe in declaring,

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against common sense and against the known facts, that the conversos were planning to seize Toledo in order to deliver it to Alvaro, their ally. And it was indeed the same view of the New Christians that sustained the belief in the still larger plot—the grand conspiracy of the conversos of Castile to capture the government of the country. Such suspicions and beliefs could be spun about the conversos because they were considered not only an alien but also an enemy alien group, one that belonged to a different nation, which was ostensibly at peace with the Span¬ iards but actually at incessant war with them, as it was with all other Christian nations. But at this point, we must ask whether the term “nacio” (or “natio”) when applied to the Marranos meant nation or nationality in the modern sense, or perhaps something else which has to be defined. The question is legitimate, but also difficult and complex. We shall try, however, to answer it as briefly as possible without deviating far from our purpose.

V

The history of the growth of nationalism in the Middle Ages, including the growth of nationalism in Spain, is still one of the least studied subjects of the humanities, although its importance for understanding the medieval era, as well as the era that followed, can hardly be exaggerated. But the cardinal question “What is a nation?” was asked not only in the nineteenth century. It was asked already at the beginning of the fifteenth and, in all probability, even before; and in dealing with this query, we shall have to confine ourselves to the inferences we can draw from what was said about this matter in the period with which we are concerned. At the Council of Constance (1417) a discussion arose on the subject of nationhood, or rather on what constitutes a real nation as differing from the artificial political formations that were recognized as nationes in that Coun¬ cil.39 On that occasion the English delegation expressed the view that the essential elements or signs of nationhood were either a "blood relationship marking a people off from the others," coupled with a “habit of unity,” or a “peculiar language,” or a “territory,” which serves as the people’s dwelling place or homeland.40 We are mentioning these “signs” in the order they appear in the original statement of that delegation, from which it is evident that only two of those “signs,” or even one of them, sufficed to determine national distinction. Perhaps most remarkable in that definition is the fact that its “signs” of nationhood do not include common obedience to a prince, or anything related to government. A nation is recognized by its substantial qualities and not by the shifting identity of its rulers. It is evidently not the same as a kingdom, and it exists quite apart from the royal dominion. This was not an isolated opinion. A few months earlier, the Portuguese

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embassy to the Council of Constance protested “against the inclusion of prelates from Sicily and Corsica with the Aragonese in the Spanish nation on the ground that, although subjects of the king of Aragon, they spoke another language and were “truly of a different nation.”41 Similarly, in a speech he delivered in the Council of Basle (1434) on the priority of Castile’s seating rights in that Council, Alonso de Cartagena said that in “the dominion of my lord the king [of Castile] there exist diverse nations and different languages,” mentioning by way of demonstration the fact that the “Castilians, the Gali¬ cians and the Basques are different nations and use different languages.”42 It is apparent that, according to Cartagena, nationhood was not identical with language, although he evidently regarded language as one of its most signifi¬ cant signs. We shall probably not be far off the mark if we assume that, in Cartagena’s view, “blood relationship and a habit of unity” constituted, as it did for the English in Constance, a nation’s primary attributes. Thus, when the Relator, or Barrientos, or Perez de Guzman spoke of the Marranos as a separate “nation,” they had a clear notion of what they referred to. They referred to an entity which could be “marked off’ by the “signs” mentioned by the English in Constance. But what “sign” could be attributed to the conversos? They had neither a special territory of their own nor a language that differed from the others’. What remained to distinguish them as a separate nation was their “blood relationship and their habit of unity.” Hence the importance that “race” assumed for their “national” distinction; and hence the intermixture of race and nation as terms designating their identity.

This brings us to the heart of the problem that inevitably emerges from this discussion. If the nations of the peninsula were divided from each other not only by their shifting dynasties and rulers (which were often imposed upon them from the outside), but also by inherent, natural differences (such as their stock, language, etc.), and if the conversos, too, were viewed (by themselves, as well as by their friends and foes) as an entity with special national characteristics, may we not assume that the conflict between them and the other national entities of Spain stemmed primarily from national differences rather than from any other source? Or if it did originate in some other source, such as those we have pointed out above (i.e., religious, eco¬ nomic, or social), was it not exacerbated by a national antagonism to the point of becoming as acute as it did? The question, to our knowledge, has thus far not been broached in the historical literature related to the Marranos. It must, however, be raised and considered if we wish to do justice to our subject. When Alonso de Cartagena spoke of the nations that lived under Castilian dominion, he no doubt echoed the argument of the English at Constance,

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who saw in a group’s “peculiar language” a major sign of a nation, and he may also have ascribed to certain Castilian groups some of the other signs in which the English saw evidence of national qualities. But these qualities in themselves (such as homeland, ethnic origin), like other common attributes of nationhood (such as statehood, government, legal system, etc.), are no signs of a national existence any more than the limbs of a body testify to the presence of a functioning organism. As is well known, for a nation to exist and function, it must have, in addition to the above properties, that particular asset which students of nationalism have designated national consciousness— an asset which comprises memory and outlook (i.e., awareness of a common past, as well as a common concern for the future); a will which consists of a common determination to prolong and protect the community’s life; a gener¬ ally understood or declared consent to regard the interests of the community as superior to other interests; and above all, an aspiration to retain, or attain, a state of political independence. To be sure, these elements, as scholars have noted, are not found in all nations in the same degree, nor do they appear together at a given moment. They grow and develop from small beginnings until they (or some of them) reach maturity and are capable of motivating the nation’s actions. But they ought to be present at least in a form considera¬ bly beyond the embryonic stage for any collectivity to possess nationhood. And so, if the groups in Spain of the iyth century that were called by some of their members “nations” possessed these elements to a notable extent, then they were indeed half- or full-fledged nations in the modern sense of the word, and the laws applying to the lives of nations were valid for them, too. If not, what was meant by the term nation, when they were referred to by this designation, was something else, which still has to be defined. Spain had gone through such terrible convulsions in the eight hundred years of the Reconquest that it could offer ground for a variety of theories about the fate of Spanish nationalism in that period. Thus, according to Americo Castro, the Spaniards of ancient times virtually disappeared in the storms and stresses of the wars with the Moors, and the nation that ultimately replaced the old one was molded in the last centuries of the Middle Ages, assuming final shape only at the dawn, or on the eve of the new era. As Castro saw it, the new nation emerged as the product of the particular social structure

that

characterized

Spanish

life until

the

12th

century

and

beyond—a structure that comprised three religious castes: Christian, Mos¬ lem and Jewish. “What is called today ‘fatherland,’ ‘nation,’ ” he says, “in terms of defining the people as a whole, was felt in the 12th century as a conglomerate of believers in distinct faiths—that is, each in his own religious code.”43 This situation, according to Castro, persisted until the turn of the 15th century, when finally, out of the castes’ convivencia, first as collaborators and then as contenders, emerged the “Spaniards as we know them.” Obvi-

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ously, according to this conception, there was hardly any room in the me¬ dieval Christian kingdoms for national life in the modern sense, let alone for a variety of national experiences. Yet there was such a variety. However one may assess Castro’s view that, in the first several centuries of the Reconquest, “religious affiliation served to delimit the national form of a whole people,”44 it is clear that already in those early times foundations were laid for the rise and development of a number of distinct national entities, and that other factors besides religion played a major part in fashioning their “form.” Castro, in our opinion, overrates the congeniality in the relationship between the castes in the earlier period and underrates their antagonism in the later. The so-called Christian caste was not, as we see it, just one of three components of Spain’s society, but always the ruling and controlling factor, to which the other two were markedly subservient. If the attitude of the “Christian caste” toward the other groups changed, the change was not from cooperation to domination, but from domination, which was constant, to suppression and exclusion. Above all, it was the Christian caste—and it alone—that provided the roots, the trunk and the main branches of the new Spanish nation. Different was the view of Menendez Pidal, who perceived Christian Spain as a national rock split by the hammer blows of the Moslem conquest and then reunited by Spanish forces who worked for the cementation of the scattered fragments. In these fragments, Menendez Pidal believed, the na¬ tional spirit continued to live. Accordingly, he said that since 1035, the “unifying impulse continually asserted itself... until [Spain’s] final unity was achieved by the Catholic Monarchs ”4S These are of course far-reaching statements which their author has not duly proven. In view of the jealousy for their separate independence which the Spanish Christian kingdoms have perennially manifested; in view of the zeal which they steadily displayed in protecting their interests and pursuing their goals; and, above all, in view of the ruinous wars which they frequently waged against each other throughout the era, it is hard for us to see them as part of one nation, or even agree that the “impulse for unity” asserted itself continually in their lives. To be sure, certain memories, laws and customs were commonly retained by all Christian kingdoms; but the centrifugal forces were on the whole stronger than the centripetal ones, and the new conditions changed the face of their societies so that eventually they were seen by themselves, and by others, as different national entities. It is not our purpose to be drawn here into the controversy about the “origin and identity” of the Spaniards. But the subject bears directly on the question that concerns us—namely, the relationship between the Old and New Christians—and therefore we find it necessary to remark that we find ourselves considerably removed from the views of both Castro and Pidal,

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while, on the other hand, we feel considerably closer to those of Ortega y Gasset. In the words of Ortega in Invertebrate Spain: “It would be an error to believe that, when Castile took Aragon, Catalonia and the Basque country and welded them into the unit that was Spain, they lost their character as peoples distinct from each other and from the whole of which they now formed a part. ’46 “1 here was none of this,” Ortega emphasized. “Submission, unification, amalgamation, did not mean the death of these groups as groups. Their innate force of independence persisted even though they were con¬ quered.”47 But peoples whose “distinction” is so pronounced that it cannot be blurred even when “amalgamated,” and whose “innate independence” is so strong as to persist even in a state of submission, could not have attained those qualities except by the factors that shape nations. And indeed Navarre, Aragon and Catalonia had been nations long before they united with Castile, although Ortega y Gasset reserves the title “nation” for Spain, their com¬ bined unit. That Castile was no less a nation than its partners in what we may call the Spanish Union need scarcely be said. To be sure, the growth of its national consciousness was slowed down by the drastic changes (dynastic, territorial and demographic) it had undergone during the first centuries of its existence. But in 1230 its dynasty was solidified; in 1266 its border was stabilized48; demographic changes were subsequently minimized; one law was established for the whole country; and some national representation was secured through Cortes. In the following two centuries (1250-1450) Castile also became far more united ethnically, so that by 1450 it seemed to have all the essential attributes of nationhood, including a government of its own, a tradition of independence, and a past rich in heroic deeds, which was kept alive by its literature. That this was indeed the situation at the time is also attested by some special studies. In three short but incisive works, Gifford Davis showed how the national sentiment was manifested in both Castile’s politics and literature in the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries,49 and Marfa Rosa Lida de Malkiel demonstrated how, in the first half of the 15th century, the concepts of Castile and Espaiia merged in the minds of most poets of the period, and especially how the view of a united Spain animated their works as an ideal.so To be sure, Rosa Lida assumed that she had noticed two important exceptions to this rule: the Marquis de Santillana and Fernan Perez de Guzmansi; but in this she was rather in error, and the error only strengthens her correct generaliza¬ tion. Santillana calls his homeland (patria), which was Castile, also by the name of Espaiia52-, and Guzman considers not only Castile and Leon, but also Portugal and Aragon, “kingdoms of that nation ”—namely, the same nation (Spain), whose glories he sings in his famous poem Loores de los claros varones de Espaiia,53 Also the very fact that Guzman dedicated that poem to the great

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of the whole of Spain, and not only of Castile, shows that his political and national horizon encompassed the entire peninsula, and that he viewed all Christian kingdoms of the peninsula as members of one historical unit. It would be wrong to assume that these sentiments and perceptions were shared in equal measure by all the sections of the people. Those who upheld and promoted them first were intellectuals (primarily poets and historians), who belonged to the upper classes. But they gradually sifted down to the lower classes, especially their educated, “learned” elements. By the middle of the century this extended attitude gave rise to a development which is related to our subject. The growing awareness by a people of its “self,” or rather of its national identity, is always paralleled by its growing desire to share in the manage¬ ment of its affairs. And Castile, of all the countries of the peninsula, had the least representative government. The attempts made toward the end of the 14th century to involve Castile’s cities in the central administration were completely abandoned in the 15th, when the Crown’s dictatorship excluded from the government not only the cities but also most grandees. Supported by some of the urban oligarchies, the nobles reacted with rebellious protests, only to be repeatedly crushed. In 1445 the Cortes of Olmedo authorized an absolutist regime, and all hope of popular representation seemed lost. But then four years later, in the rebellion of Toledo, the lower classes made their voice heard, asserting their right to determine and shape (together with the nobles) the government of the nation and the nature of its officialdom. Accordingly, we can see the national spirit surge in the demands put forth in the Petition they addressed to the king in May 1449 and in the Memorial written later in that year by their spokesman, Marcos Garcia. What they wanted was a regime based on the people’s expressed will, announced through its representatives in Cortes; they wanted Cortes to represent the whole kingdom, including all the cities, towns and places (and not only the nobles and the principal cities, as had been the case hitherto); and they wanted a monar¬ chy that would recognize its duty to serve the people, care for its needs and, above all, abide by the people’s wishes. Otherwise, they (i.e., the people) threatened to withdraw their allegiance from the king and thereby overthrow his government. In all this we can see indications of nationhood, or of an advanced national consciousness, or of a nation in the making. Moreover, since the rebels of Toledo spoke, as we have seen, not only for their own city, or for a particular class or estate, but for all cities, classes and estates, their position assumed a national character, thereby adding another indication to the presence of a national sentiment in their ranks. Nevertheless, the term nation is not to be found in their writings. Instead they used the term republic, or other terms signifying national existence, as we shall presently see.

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Cartagena, as we have noted, saw Castile’s population as comprising three nations (Castilians, Galicians and Basques), and it was indubitably these nations that the rebels referred to when they spoke of the king’s peoples,54 They viewed these peoples as representing three generos—three ethnic types (the marks of nationhood) whose common denominator lay in the fact that their members were all naturales. These naturales—i.e., the natives, the au¬ thentic or indigenous sons of the country—comprised as a whole what we might today call the national body or unit: they alone were entitled to represent the republic and occupy its public posts. The conversos, whom they called the “fourth ethnic type’’ (el quarto genero), the type that descended from the Jews,55 were obviously excluded from this category. They were not naturales but extranjeros (“aliens”); hence, they were not part of the national conglomerate and shared none of its rights. That as non-naturales they could not be entrusted with the task of repre¬ senting the republic was taken as a matter of course; and in consequence, they were not entitled to the authority and privileges which go with that task. The denial to the conversos of the right to public office was a direct deduction from that general premise, and so was the disqualification of the conversos as recipients of benefices from the Church. When we recall the cities’ stub¬ born resistance, so firmly and repeatedly displayed in Cortes, to the granting of benefices to foreigners (extranjerosj, we can better understand the Tole¬ dans’ insistence that conversos be forbidden to assume benefices of the Church. We have seen that the rebels refrained from applying the term “nation” not only to the conversos but also to the other Castilian groups, which Cartagena has defined as “nations.” Instead, they described them by ethnic epithets, and those whom they regarded as legitimate components of their country’s population, they also occasionally designated as peoples. But they had a clear conception of the inherent unity of what they viewed as the authentic peoples of Castile,56 and that conception further suggests an ad¬ vanced stage of national consciousness. Perhaps they did not employ the term “nation” because it was not yet in common use, but they managed to communicate what they had in mind; and what they had in mind was, though not identical with, close to what we now call “national identity.” The rebellion of Toledo was, we should recall, a political uprising directed against the regime—including its conversos, who were viewed as its alien and illegitimate agents. When the revolt failed to attain its end, which was to overthrow the dictatorial government and replace it by a “democratic” regime, the masses were persuaded to continue their fight against the conver¬ sos alone, perhaps believing that by ousting the conversos from their posts they would secure these posts for themselves. Thus, the continued assault on the Marranos resulted from a frustrated revolution. To be sure, the racial

IOO4]

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form of that assault owed its appearance to a variety of causes, mainly to those we have indicated above, but there is no doubt that the assailants gained much strength from additional forces then rising to the surface. For besides hatred of the Jew, the racist drive harnessed the energy and dynamism of a revolutionary movement, which was already national in essence and could find at that time no other outlet. That is why the struggle against the Jewish “race” was felt as a struggle against a foreign nation which had usurped the positions of the nation’s true sons and must therefore be vanquished or destroyed.

IV. Ferdinand of Aragon i

In the foregoing chapters we have summarized what we gathered about the general circumstances, tendencies and interests that combined to form the powerful drive that led to the establishment of the Inquisition. It should be obvious by now that without this drive the Spanish Inquisition would not have been created; but it is also certain that this drive alone would not have created it either. For although general tendencies, interests and cir¬ cumstances can produce movements demanding change, they cannot produce the complex organizations that translate these demands into reality. Such organizations are fashioned by individuals who can channel the forces of popular movements, just as the builder of a power station at the edge of a cataract can harness the energy of the current. The creation of the Spanish Inquisition was no exception to this rule. It happened thanks to its architect and builder who was, without question, King Ferdinand of Aragon. He was aided to be sure by his spirited wife, Queen Isabella of Castile, especially in the various stages of planning; and the momentous resolution to establish the Inquisition must be imputed to both. This decision was the final link in the chain of causes that generated the Inquisition. What led Ferdinand and Isabella to make it?

In the three decades after 1449, the racists made repeated attempts to implement the main parts of their program. Their bloody attacks on the converso communities were meant to be a prelude to the Marranos’ extermi¬ nation, or to their expulsion from Spanish society, while their enactment of statutes against the Marranos in cities that succumbed to their policy of discrimination was intended to spur the rest of the kingdom to reduce the Marranos’ status. In the final analysis, none of these projects was accomplished to the racists’ satisfaction. Their physical assaults no doubt caused the Marranos considera¬ ble loss of life and treasure. But they could not bring about the extermination of most conversos even in a single locality; nor could they cause the expul¬ sion of the conversos from even a single Castilian town, or otherwise effect the complete liquidation of any Marrano community. More successful were the racists’ attempts at damaging the Marranos’ civil status. They managed to set up discriminatory regimes in Toledo, Ciudad Real, Cordova and other places, thereby causing dangerous breaches in the legal defense line of the

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New Christians. But before long these breaches were repaired by the Kings, who acted under converso influence. Thus here, too, the racists failed to achieve their ultimate objectives. Yet while in the actual fulfillment of their program the racists gained only partial victories, and the curve of their attainments rose and fell, in two respects the course of their activities showed a constantly upward trend. To begin with, their movement kept growing steadily, attracting more people of almost all classes, and second, they fostered hatred of the conversos to an ever more threatening degree. Both developments increased the pressure on the authorities and both hurt the relations between Old and New Christians. In fact, in some places these relations became so tense that they could be disrupted by the slightest provocation, and mutual toleration would give way to civil war. When Ferdinand and Isabella came to power, they were well acquainted with this situation. They had seen the ravages it produced in Cordova, in Jaen and other towns in Andalusia, and they knew of the havoc it had caused in Toledo, Ciudad Real and elsewhere. They noticed the hatred growing and spreading; and they realized that its growth and spread must be arrested before it produced new, powerful explosions that might rock the whole kingdom. The question was: What could be done? Two courses of action seemed open to the kings to avert the danger of new disorders. One was to follow the advice of the conversos; the other, the demands of their opponents. The advice of the conversos in 1474, when the Catholic Kings came to power, was indubitably the same they had offered Juan II (in 1449) and, most probably, Enrique IV (in 1462, 1467, and 1473): the administration should act promptly and vigorously in full conformity with the laws of the kingdom, and this meant, of course, to punish the lawbreakers, and especially the inciters of riots. No concessions should be made to the criminals, because every concession would only encourage them to resume and increase their intoler¬ able mischief. On the other hand, if the monarchs treated them as the laws require, they would earn the respect of the great majority of the citizenry who are seriously hurt by the incessant turmoil; the agitators would under¬ stand that there was no chance for their criminal wishes to come true and would ultimately abandon their insane hopes of seeing the New Christians destroyed. The result would be the restoration of public peace. The Catholic Kings were of course aware that this method had never been tried. It is true that in 1450—yi some of the chief assailants of the Marranos were cruelly executed or otherwise punished, but the public was somehow given to understand that they suffered this fate for their betrayal of the Prince, or for their rebellion against the King (Juan II), and not for their

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excesses against the conversos. In fact, both Juan II and Enrique IV pardoned all robbers and killers of the New Christians, so that the public might form the conclusion that crimes against conversos go unpunished. But the Catholic Kings also knew why their predecessors had taken a soft line against the Marranos foes. They had taken such a line because a policy of reprisals was opposed by almost all Old Christians in the cities, and they feared that by pursuing such a policy they might harden the opposition and ignite a popular resistance that would be beyond their power to put down. Ferdinand and Isabella were well aware that the general respect for law they had established, and the fear they had instilled in potential lawbreakers, had much to do with the peace that prevailed between the Old and New Christians in the first years of their reign. They erected a strong wall against anarchy and revolution for the benefit of all their subjects, but they also saw the anti-converso forces battering dangerously against it at many points. The Kings must have wondered what they would do if, at some point, their defense system cracked. They were especially concerned about the realistic prospect that rioting against the Marranos might erupt in many towns. If such general outbreaks, they reasoned, were possible in the 1460s and 1470s, they were even more likely in the 1480s. For the movement against the Marranos had grown, hatred of the conversos ran much higher, and the problem of containing such a movement had become correspondingly more difficult. It would be impossible, they realized, to punish masses of lawbreakers, while selective punishments against the ringleaders might swell the rising waves of disorder. They must have considered also their military potential in foresee¬ able situations. If two or three great cities revolted at the same time, could the Kings put down such a multiple insurrection? It was obviously a prospect they could not ignore, nor was it farfetched. When many small fires were burning in many places, nobody could tell how many of them might turn into conflagrations. But apart from the question whether the anti-Marrano movement could be suppressed by force, there was another question that Ferdinand and Isabella considered of primary importance. This was the question of their standing in the country as admired rulers. Would not a campaign of suppres¬ sion cost them the great popularity they were enjoying—a popularity which to them was one of the main assets they had got out of the War of Succession? Having determined to subdue the nobility, which had caused so much trouble to their predecessors, they could hardly afford to fight the common¬ ers, too—for if they did so, on whom would they rely? To keep the common¬ ers’ unreserved support was therefore a task which, in their judgment, had priority over anything else; but the fulfillment of this task would be utterly impossible if they protected the conversos against the commoners’ demands. They had no choice but to take sides, and it was clear which side they

i oo8 ]

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would take. If they wished to have the support of the majority and the preservation of peace and order, they had to come to terms with the antiMarrano party and demonstrate their sympathy with its position and its goals; otherwise they would lose the goodwill of that party and, before long, its help and obedience. But they also knew that this display of sympathy could not be limited to mere words; if they wished it to have the desired effect, it had to be expressed in concrete actions, which meant that they would have to adopt at least part of the anti-Marrano program. But what point of that program could they possibly accept? It was here that the Kings faced a crucial difficulty in the policy they intended to pursue. For almost all the anti-Marranos’ demands involved a violation of the country’s laws and posed a direct threat to the existing social system. The Kings, however, believed that respect for the law was the primary condition of an orderly government and in no circumstances would they countenance or contribute to an open disregard of legal prohibitions. Nor would they support a brazen disregard of traditionally accepted morality and thus throw the country into moral confusion, which would sooner or later lead to social chaos. Consequently, they could not approve of a bloodbath as a way of settling the Marrano question. Nor could they agree to banish the conversos or degrade them socially because of their race, for such moves would likewise violate the laws and contradict hallowed policies of church and state. Simi¬ larly, they could not officially prohibit the assumption by conversos of public offices or benefices; for the issuance of orders to this effect would be equally opposed to the existing laws and, in addition, would be objectively devoid of any justifiable reason. Despite the violent campaign against the converso officials, the latter were known to have performed dutifully, and it would be a travesty of justice to repay them for their services in so offensive and humiliating a manner. Similarly, to restrict the rights of all conversos because some of them were rumored to be Judaizers would be grossly illegal, since heresy could not be punished collectively, and certainly not on the grounds of hearsay. What then could the sovereigns do if they wished to draw the anti-Marranos to their side and remain within the laws on which the King¬ dom rested? The only thing they could do was to adopt the measure de¬ manded by all the critics of the Marranos—that is, establish an inquisition. To accept this demand would not breach the legal system, or require laws against the conversos as a group, or a policy of discrimination against any of their members. The task of the inquisition was only to investigate—that is, to determine the validity of accusations leveled against individual suspects— and then pronounce sentences of guilt or innocence. Such inquisitions, con¬ trolled by the Church, operated in several Western countries; Aragon had had one since 1237; why should not one be established in Castile? There seemed to be no reason to oppose such a proposal. Castile, after all, had been

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long swept with rumors that Judaism was rampant among the conversos, and it was hard to believe that so much smoke was generated without any fire. In any case, it was the duty of the Sovereigns to check the veracity of such rumors and eradicate the scourge of heresy from their land, if indeed such a scourge existed, and nobody could blame them if they decided to conduct a searching inquiry in the matter. The Inquisition was not one of the plans initially most favored by the Spanish racists, especially by their secular wing. They had tried it in Toledo—with little success (in 1449)—and, judging by their various public proclamations, they were not eager to renew it.1 They preferred to take social and economic measures, and accordingly issued their Sentencia-Estatuto. Nor did the Inquisition appear to them necessary for the attainment of their objectives. By definition, the Inquisition was merely an instrument of inquiry into suspicions of heresy, aimed at determining the guilt or innocence of suspects. The racists were not eager to resort to such procedures; nor were they really in need of them. Their theory assured them that all conversos were heretics—an assurance which was to them an article of faith. It justified the extreme measures they had proposed against the conversos; and these measures did not necessarily include an inquisition. The inquisition that first appeared in Toledo (in 1449) was probably introduced at the prodding of the ecclesiastic racists, headed by the vicar of the Toledan church. The latter perceived that charges of heresy were an effective means of humiliating the New Christians and could serve as lethal weapons if properly handled by an ecclesiastical inquisition. By this they meant an inquisition whose main functionaries were enemies of the New Christians like themselves. Accordingly, they believed that if such an inquisi¬ tion was allowed to operate throughout Spain, it would spell the end of the Marranos’ existence. Their view must finally have been adopted by the elite of Toledo’s Old Christians who negotiated the terms of their reconciliation with the King. It is difficult to see why the royal administration solicited a papal bull to establish an inquisition, unless the Toledans made such solicita¬ tion a condition for the resumption of their obedience to the King.2 Under the conversos’ counter-pressure, however, the plan for the inquisi¬ tion was then shelved, as we have seen; but the ecclesiastic racists kept urging its adoption, while proclaiming that most conversos were heretics. It was especially Espina, who paid little regard to the social-economic criticism of the Marranos and concentrated on the charge of their infidelity, who argued tirelessly for the establishment of an inquisition as a useful (though not the most effective) tool for dealing with the Marrano problem. His campaign was taken up, in one form or another, by all three monastic orders in Spain (the Franciscans, the Hieronymites and the Dominicans); and reechoed as it was by the secular racists, who claimed that the conversos were indeed secret

ioio]

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Jews, it seemed that all the factions of the anti-Marrano party would back the Inquisitional plan. What made that plan steadily more popular was the increased currency of the notion that the conversos were false Christians, secretly devoted to their ancestors’ faith. In consequence, the terms Marrano, Jew and heretic came to be regarded more and more as synonymous, and the influence of this synonymity was so strong that not only ordinary uninformed people, who generally follow the prevailing views, but also critical observers, re¬ searchers and historians could not escape its pervasive spell. We can see this in the changed attitudes toward the conversos of chroniclers like En¬ riquez del Castillo and Palencia, who from sharp critics of the Marranos’ enemies became supporters of the latter’s charges. The change was also seen in the contents and extremism of the defamations heaped upon the New Christians. If in 1449 the authors of the Sentencia limited their reli¬ gious criticism of the Marranos to suspicions touching a minority of the New Christians, in the sixties the suspicions turned to certainties about their overwhelming majority. The wildest accusations about their heretical prac¬ tices were now circulated as ascertained facts, and the rising popular fury against them soon made new outbreaks seem inevitable. In the seventies the pressure became so disturbing that the sovereigns had to find some way to relieve it. As we have indicated, they examined all possibilities and, by a process of elimination, arrived at the conclusion that the establishment of the Inquisition was the only way. From the standpoint of the immediate goal of the Crown to secure its own endurance and stability, it was hard to find fault with that conclusion. Of the various potential solutions offered, the solution they chose appeared most likely to succeed. Both logic and interest pointed in that direction—and not for the first time. In fact, the three sharpest politicians of Castile in the 15th century made the same calculation and reached the same conclusion. They were Alvaro de Luna, Juan Pacheco, and Ferdinand of Aragon. All three understood that of the two conflicting forces (i.e., the conversos and their enemies), one would eventually have to give way; and all three of them, apparently, were certain which of the two that would be. Of the three, however, it was only Ferdinand who had the power to translate his conclu¬ sion into reality. Accordingly, he abandoned the Crown’s support of the conversos, established the Inquisition, and thereby assumed the unofficial sponsorship of the anti-Marrano party—that is, the party which was likely to triumph and which he considered too risky to oppose.

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[ion

II

On January 2, 1481, two Dominican friars published in Seville the letter of their appointment as Inquisitorial judges for Castile by Ferdinand and Isa¬ bella.3 Included in this letter, which was signed by the Kings on September 27,1480, was Pope Sixtus IV’s bull of November 1,1478 (Exigit sincere devotionis), which authorized the Kings to appoint Inquisitors in Castile for extirpat¬ ing the heresy that had been spreading in their land.4 According to both the bull and the letter, the heresy consisted of a “Judaic” deviation by certain “Christians in name and appearance” who, after having been duly baptized, “converted and returned” to the Jewish “superstition,” “guarding the cere¬ monies, rites and customs” of the Jews, and “turning away from the true faith.”5 This reversion, however, was not limited to those people. Since the measures provided by law for such cases were not employed against any of the culprits, the latter not only remained in their “blindness,” but also “infected” with it “their sons and daughters and others with whom they had conversed.”6 In consequence, the Sovereigns, “zealous for the faith” and seeking to “protect their subjects against evil,” appointed as Inquisitors two “venerable fathers”—Fray Juan de San Martin, bachelor of theology and prior of the monastery of San Pablo in Burgos, and Miguel de Morillo, master of theology and vicar of the Dominican Order in Spain—and instructed them to proceed against the aforesaid “infidels” with all the means and methods provided by the laws. The Kings expressed their confidence that the two appointees would carry out their duties faithfully and diligently “until the achievement of the proper end”; but they also warned them that “action to the contrary” would result in the loss of the temporalities they enjoyed and in the forfeiture of their “natural” citizenship (which would render them “strangers” in their native land).7 Then, in an apparent demonstration of their lordship and actual control of the Inquisition, the monarchs added that they could dismiss the two Inquisitors and appoint others in their stead, in accord¬ ance with the rights granted them by the Pope.8 There is a marked difference between the portrayal of the “heretics” in the bull of Sixtus IV of Nov. 1,1478, and their description in preceding papal bulls on the Inquisition, just as there is between the delineation of the heretics in the Kings’ letter of Sept. 27, 1480, and that in the report of Enrique’s Arbitra¬ tion Committee of January 15, 1465- Noting these differences will help us realize the change that had occurred in the Kings’ policy toward the conver¬ ses and the ultimate goal they sought to achieve by means of the Inquisition. In Pope Nicholas V’s bull of November 20, 1451 (Cum sicut ad nostrum), addressed to Juan II of Castile, the heretics are spoken of merely as people who “observe the ceremonies of thejews and Saracens.”9 In Pius II’s bull of March 15, 1462 (Dum fidei catbolicae), they are referred to as “some sons of

1012]

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iniquity” who “disseminate various heresies, superstitions and fallacies.”10 In Sixtus IV’s bull of August i, 1475 (Cum sicut non sine displicencia), they are defined as “keepers of the Hebrew customs” and “imitators of the rites of the Jews.”11 Finally, in the report of the Arbitration Committee, submitted to the king in January 1465, they are branded as people “suspect of heresy” who “do not live as Christian Catholics and guard the rites and ceremonies of the infidels”; they are also designated “bad Christians.”12 What is common to all these formulations is their failure to mention the conversos (or any other group) as the bearers of the “heretical depravity.” Judged by the terms used in these statements, the heretics might belong to any part of Christendom, or to several segments of Spain’s Christian popula¬ tion, so that one might assume that Christians of all origins had fallen, in some circumstances, under the influence of Jewish views. What is more, in none of the pertinent documents, save one, was the heresy even marked as specifically “Jewish.” In Nicholas V’s bull it is either Jewish or Moslem; in the Arbitration Committee’s report (of 1465) it is still less definite, being as¬ sociated with the ceremonies of the infidels; and in Pius II’s bull it is even vaguer, as the bull speaks of “various heresies, superstitions and fallacies.” Quite different is the Pope’s description of the heresy in his bull of November 1, 1478, and so is the Kings’ in the letter they made public on January 2, 1481. For both these documents indicate unmistakably not only the identity of the heretics involved, but also the group to which they belonged. Both refer to them as converts to Christianity and both say that, following their conver¬ sion, they returned to their Jewish sect13-, thus it becomes clear that the heretics referred to were all converts from Judaism—namely, Marranos or New Chris¬ tians. There can be no doubt that the description of the heretics in the latest papal bull (as in the royal letter) was made in accordance with the Kings’ instructions; and the Kings knew full well what it all meant. They knew that by this portrayal of the heretics they stigmatized the Marrano group as heretical and each of its members as a potential heretic. This was, in fact, almost identical with what the conversos’ foes had been claiming for three decades, and this was the message which the two monarchs wished to com¬ municate to them at that point. They wanted the anti-Marranos to know that the Kings had come close to their view of the conversos and signaled to them that the Crown had approved their position with respect to the “remedy”— namely, that the Kings, too, thought that the heresy could be extirpated only by a campaign against the whole New Christian camp. As in other fields of life, so in politics, signals are given by means of certain code words or allusive actions that the parties involved clearly comprehend. The orders issued on January 2, 1481, contain three such signals, indicating what the Kings had in mind when they launched their inquisitional project.

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The most telling of these signals was the Kings’ description of how the conversos had become Christians. We refer especially to the clause in that description which says that the conversos (or rather their ancestors) were baptized “without pressure or force” (sin premio ni fuerza).14 Evidently, this formula came to dispose of the claim that the conversions of 1391 resulted from a death threat and hence were “forced,” and that those of 1412-1418 were effected under duress (intolerable pressure) and hence were also forced. Judg¬ ing by the Kings’ declaration, then, all these conversions were voluntary. To appreciate more fully the Kings’ aim in this contention, we have to compare it to the description of the conversions as given in Sixtus IV’s bull. According to the Pope, the New Christians (or their ancestors) who con¬ verted to Christianity were “not absolutely forced” (non ad id precise coacti). No previous papal bull concerning the Inquisition includes such an assertion, and it would not have appeared in this bull either had not (as we see it) the Kings of Spain asked the Pope to present the baptism of the conversos as voluntary. The Pope, however, could not go so far, and limited himself to Boniface VIII’s formulation, which is included in canon law.15 It was close to what the sovereigns requested, but not good enough for public consumption. “Not absoulutely forced,” the Kings realized, would not be understood and might raise disturbing questions. In their own letter, therefore, the Kings avoided this difficulty and wrote in plain, unequivocal language that the converts were baptized “without pressure or force.

According to common

opinion, this meant that no threat of death was involved, which was not precisely what the Pope’s bull suggested, and of course contradicted the facts of history related to the Jewish conversions in Spain. The Kings were well aware of these facts. If, however, when arguing for the establishment of the Inquisition, they substituted a wrong assertion for the truth, they must have had powerful reasons to do so. What could those reasons have been? So secret were the moves preceding the creation of the Inquisition that no documents survived to give even an inkling of the opinions voiced in the Kings’ closest circles concerning the propriety of petitioning the Pope to authorize the establishment of an Inquisition. Evidently, such opinions were expressed; they were voiced also after the arrival of the Pope’s bull and echoed in later recorded discussions, from which they might be inferred. The following conjecture, which offers, we believe, a plausible answer to the question posed above, leans on such inferences from a later source. The source we are referring to is the Tratado, which Alonso Ortiz, one of the Court chaplains, wrote in response to a tract against the Inquisition by the converso Juan Ramirez de Lucena, “Apostolic protonotary, Ambassador, and member of the King’s Council.”16 In Tarsicio de Azcona’s view, this literary debate probably took place at the commencement of the Inquisi¬ tion,17 and although Lucena’s work has not come down to us, its main points

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may be gathered from Ortiz’s citations. If we are right in our assumption that such exchanges of opinion occurred in the Court not only in 1481, but also shortly after the King had received the Pope’s bull authorizing the establish¬ ment of an inquisition, we can better understand why the Marranos were described in terms that do such violence to truth. It is reasonable to assume that in the debates held at Court concerning the Inquisition in the first half of 1478, a strong case was made against its establish¬ ment on the ground that an inquisition was, constitutionally, not the proper instrument to deal with thejudaizers. By the terms of its constitution, it could be argued, an inquisition could deal with heretics and apostates, but the Judaizers were neither heretics nor apostates. Since their parents were forced into Christianity without ever believing in any of its tenets, their infants and small children could not become Christians by being “baptized in the faith of their parents” which was what it had been—i.e., Judaism. Thus, since these children had never been Christians, they could not have deviated from Chris¬ tianity (i.e., become heretics) or depart from it (and thus turn apostates). Like their parents, they were forced into Christianity and kept in it against their will out of fear, and thus they, too, must be seen as forced converts, who should be outside the inquisition’s jurisdiction. Those who so argued of course rejected the view of forced conversion held by Boniface VIII, who maintained that forced conversion was effected only when physical compulsion was applied (specifically excluding “threat of death”); but they also differed from the views of famed authorities like Isidore of Seville and the Fourth Toledan Council, who recognized conversion under fear of death as forced (and hence forbidden by Christian law), but considered it valid after the fact.18 The argument in favor of this conclusion might be viewed by many as casuistic, and those of the Kings’ counselors who firmly opposed it could lean on the opinions of other great authorities, such as Gregory the Great, Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, who were either disinclined to approve forced conversion, or specifically denied the validity of conversions of the kind produced in Spain in 1391.19 What is more, they could rely on the fact that, with rare exceptions, all Christian authorities denounced forced conversion and canon law explicitly forbade it. It would be against the basic rules of logic, they could argue, if the victims of the grim crime of forced conversion were made to acknowledge it as a blessing and be punished if they tried to get rid of its consequences. Undoubtedly, they added that the problem of the Judaizers should not be left untreated; it should be addressed—but not by an institution like the Inquisition, which was not designed to settle it. What conclusion could the Sovereigns draw from such a chain of ideas? Certainly, they could not rely on the theory that recognized the validity of forced conversion after the fact, since it was neither unchallengeable nor convincing. Nor could they rely on the acceptability of the sentences the

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Inquisition would hand down on the basis of such a theory. Many people, they knew, would question these sentences on the ground of the arguments presented above, and such questioning could ultimately end in confusion and undermine the Inquisition’s moral foundations. It appeared, then, that the Inquisition could proceed safely only if thejudaizers were classed as heretics; yet this could be done if the New Christians were defined as voluntary converts who had relapsed into Judaism. The sovereigns could find no other solid basis on which to build their projected tribunal. This was the first reason for the Sovereigns’ declaration that the Marranos were baptized without coercion. But there was also another reason; and this brings us back to the Sovereigns’ use of “code words” as a means of maneu¬ vering public opinion. The Kings, as we have noted, sought to inform the anti-Marrano party that they had adopted its basic view of the conversos, and there was no better way to do so, without saying it in so many words, than by asserting that the Marranos’ conversion was effected “without force or pressure.” For the foes of the conversos had also claimed that the conversion of the Marranos was voluntary, even designed. According to them, the aim of that design was to hurt and ruin the Old Christians; and this part of their claim the Sovereigns dropped, as it would unnecessarily complicate their position. But by adopting the anti-Marrano view about the basic nature of the New Christians’ conversion (namely, that it was voluntary), they cleared the way for the Inquisition to treat the Marranos the way the anti-Marranos wanted it to treat them—that is, as outright heretics. The second signal to the anti-Marranos is found in the order the Inquisi¬ tors appended to the Kings’ declaration of Sept. 27, 1480. This order, which was published on Jan. 2, 1481, recalled the proclamation the Kings issued in Seville about the beginning of December 1480, forbidding any person in the archbishopric to leave his place of residence during the Inquisition’s opera¬ tions.20 The term any person was another code word indicating the Kings real intentions. The Old Christians understood that by

any person

the procla¬

mation really meant “any converso.” They realized that the Kings would not unnecessarily immobilize the great city of Seville and other towns in the archbishopric, and therefore had no doubt that the decree did not apply to Old Christians. They were sure that if any Old Christian asked for an exit permit, he would get it immediately, while a similar request by any New Christian would be denied. All this was obvious to the conversos, too. And this is what caused their exodus. It was partly because they wanted to prevent this exodus that the sover¬ eigns formulated their proclamation as they did. They realized that if the conversos alone were formally forbidden to leave the city, they would suspect that the Inquisition was planning to inflict some appalling blow upon them, and their rising fears would spur their escape from the Inquisition s sphere

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of jurisdiction. The change of formula from “any converso” to “any person” was meant to allay those fears; but the conversos were not soothed. They easily discerned the Kings’ stratagem, and more and more of them sought safety in flight. But the main coded message communicated by “any person” (which actually meant “any Marrano”) was that the Inquisition was to deal with all conversos, whatever their fame or social status. This meant that for the Inquisition no converso was above suspicion of heresy. And this in turn suggested the fate that lay in store for the whole Marrano group. Perhaps nothing could so win for Ferdinand and Isabella the sympathy of wide sections of the populace as the above instruction, with its evident implications concerning the scope of the intended persecution. But no less significant was the third signal, which clearly indicated what kind of inquisi¬ tion the Sovereigns intended to have. It was given by their announcement that they had appointed two Dominicans as chief Inquisitors for Seville and its archbishopric. The Dominicans were then steering the anti-converso movement and led the campaign to establish the Inquisition. There was no anti-converso calumny or libel they were not ready to seize on and exploit, and it could be easily foreseen with what temper and disposition they would perform their Inquisitional assignments. The Kings exhorted them most earnestly to fulfill their duties until their assignment was accomplished, and also warned them of the punishments they could expect if they failed in their mission. Both the exhortations and the warnings were superfluous, as the two Inquisitors were only too anxious to display their fierce dedication to their task. We must conclude that these exhortations and warnings were, like other words in their letter, intended to let the anti-Marranos know with what seriousness and determination the Sovereigns were to act in all that con¬ cerned the conduct of the Inquisition. There was certainly no need to urge the two Dominicans that they faithfully perform their duties. When they were chosen as the first Inquisitors, the Sovereigns must have known of their hatred of the conversos and their desire to reduce them to the lowest level possible. There could therefore be no question about their devotion to their task, just as there could be little doubt about the manner of their procedure. In fact, they may have exceeded the expectations. So harsh and cruel, and so palpably unjust, were the sentences they rendered against the alleged Judaizers that their treatment of the accused caused violent protests that stirred the courts of both the Kings and the Pope.21 There is no need to go here into the pertinent documents. The Pope took the side of the conversos. The Kings, on the other hand, supported the Inquisition, and thereby showed where they stood. G. G. Coulton wrote in dealing with the Inquisition that “to ignore the question of human responsibility would make all history meaningless.”22

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Here is a case in which human responsibility—or, more precisely, moral responsibility—is the key issue we cannot ignore if we seek to understand what truly happened. When certain cautious historians and diplomatic au¬ thors, who wish to appear impartial in the controversy about the Inquisition, merely tell us that the Holy Office, in the first stage of its activity, displayed “excessive rigor,” they avoid the element of “human responsibility” and consequently tell us little or nothing. For “excessive rigor” could stem from a sincere conviction as to how best to deal with the problem at hand, or from honest zeal for the faith, or, conversely, from partisan interests or uncontrol¬ lable bias. Obviously, we would like to know the main motive of that “rigor” and the attitude that inspired it. And, as we see it, there should be no difficulty in supplying answers to these questions, provided we use less ambiguous language. Ferdinand was of course aware of the views, tendencies and attitudes of the Inquisitors he appointed, and was not at all surprised at the way they treated the conversos. Yet if he allowed the Inquisitors to go on committing their atrocities undisturbed, it was because he realized that, by their treat¬ ment of the conversos, they were giving vent not only to their own feelings, but also to those of large masses of Spaniards, and thereby satisfied the latter’s desire to smite the Marranos as hard as possible. By saying

satisfied

we

touch the key reason for the establishment of the Inquisition. For the purpose of the Inquisition was, first of all, to satisfy the antiMarrano movement—emotionally, socially and politically. A mild inquisi¬ tion would not achieve this aim, and Ferdinand understood this. Since his purpose in establishing the Inquisition was to draw the masses of the people to his side, it was senseless to have it function in a manner that would ultimately draw them away from him. 1 he choice was therefore clear. It was either to create a real instrument of persecution, or not create one at all. The Marranos were now placed in a position resembling that of a flock in a sheepfold, from which a number of sheep were often chosen to be thrown to the wolves roaming around. The destruction was to proceed piecemeal, and there was no telling how long, or at what rate it would continue. It all depended on the King’s final aims, which, it seems, he revealed to no one. Just the same, he sought—and managed—to instill in the antisemitic masses the belief that the hopes they entertained with respect to the conversos would eventually be realized. But this does not mean that these hopes and plans were identical with his own—or, to put it plainly, that he ever contemplated the extermination of the whole Marrano community. He was not a racist and could befriend New Christians no less than Old ones, provided they earned his absolute trust. In fact, no one appreciated more than he did the talents of the conversos in administration, diplomacy, finance and the liberal professions (his personal

i o i 8 ]

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physician in the last years of his life was the famous converso doctor Villa¬ lobos). However paradoxical and unrealistic it may appear, he intended to make use of these abilities despite the storm of persecution he unleashed against the conversos; and this also suggests that he meant to preserve a large part of the group intact. In time, he may have thought, he would scale down the attack. When he founded the Inquisition, however, he no doubt saw it moving, for a few years at least, in the opposite direction—that is, of expan¬ sion and escalation.

Ill

It would be incredible if such a widespread operation, based as it was on the false assumption that all or most of the conversos were Judaizers, did not rouse the consternation of some critical minds and lead them to propose different explanations from those officially given for the founding of the Inquisition. Since Ferdinand was considered by one and all the architect and head of the Holy Office, it was inevitable that these explanations be con¬ nected with assessments of his motives and his character. We may safely assume that Machiavelli’s famous statement that religion served Ferdinand merely as a mask for the concealment of his political designs23 was based, among other things, on the conduct of the Inquisition, which was known to have been controlled by Ferdinand. Guicciardini, too, asserted that Ferdi¬ nand employed religion as a cover for his ambitions, which he generally defined as “greed.”24 Then Bernardo Segni, Guicciardini’s disciple, speaking explicitly about the Spanish Inquisition, combined his master’s view with that of Machiavelli when he concluded that Ferdinand established that tribunal for both financial gain and political domination.25 It was no accident that such views were expressed in Italy, where the Pope and his officials were well acquainted with the performance of the Spanish Inquisition and where the critical opinions stemming from their circles were supported by the numerous accounts of the Marranos who flocked to Rome in search of refuge. No Spaniard in Ferdinand’s Spain would dare say openly that politics and finance motivated the King’s “religious zeal”; and no one could, under the Inquisition’s censorship, relate such motives to its establish¬ ment. It was only after Spain’s conquest by Napoleon and the abolition of the Inquisition by the Cortes of Cadiz (1813) that such views were expressed by Spanish authors both at home and abroad. The first—and still the most influential—of these authors was Juan An¬ tonio Llorente, whose Critical History of the Spanish Inquisition (1817) opened the modern historiography of the subject. Llorente asserted that, apart from political considerations, the financial motive was the main factor impelling Ferdinand to set up the new tribunal. According to Llorente, the few verified

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cases (or “examples,” as he put it) of crypto-Jews living among the conversos were sufficient to give Ferdinand the “religious pretext” he needed to imple¬ ment his plan.26 This was a charge of the utmost gravity that impugned the reputation of both Ferdinand and the Inquisition and, consequently, was suppressed in Spain following the restoration of the old regime. It was therefore only after the second abolition of the Inquisition (in 1834) that Castillo y Mayone, in his Tribunal de la Inquisition (1835), could renew the charge that “Judaism served [merely] as a pretext to establish the Inquisition in Spain, but the real object [of its establishment] was [Ferdinand’s] cupidity of the confiscations.”27 “Superstition and despotism,” said Castillo, “con¬ verted that tribunal into a ministry of Police and a major customhouse” for the properties of those who were declared heretics. These were of course Llorente’s ideas, more trenchantly expressed. Twelve years later Castillo’s assertions were echoed in Spain by another scholar, whose vast erudition and intellectual courage matched his penetrat¬ ing insights. In his memorable History of the Jews of Spain (1847), Adolfo de Castro minced no words in assailing Ferdinand’s policies and tactics, and exposed what he saw as the background conditions that impelled the king to establish the Inquisition. Ferdinand, he said, had “exhausted his treasury” in the wars he waged to secure his dominion, and unable to “extricate himself from his troubles, ... he looked to the Inquisition as the sole means of augmenting the royal revenues.” This was, he emphasized, ‘the true reason why he consented to the proposals of the Dominican Friars. ” Later on, Castro added, the war with Granada and his warlike enterprises overseas further taxed his depleted treasury and made him rely on the Inquisition to replenish his vanishing resources. Hence, Castro concluded, “it was on the confiscation of the possessions of the condemned conversos that all his zeal for the exaltation of the Christian faith in his land and seigniories depended.”28 These theories, according to which financial or political (and not religious) motives induced the Kings of Spain to establish the Inquisition, appeared also to other scholars preferable to the old view that religion—or, more precisely, the Judaic heresy—lay at the heart of the Inquisitional undertaking. What truth was there in these explanations?

A. Dominguez Ortiz, an eminent scholar whose works on the conversos offer notable contributions to the study of their life and problem, is one of the many modern authors who stick to the old ( religious ) view. Accord¬ ingly, in his most recent work on the subject, he concludes that financial considerations played no part in the decision to establish the Inquisition. On the contrary, he maintains, the Kings took that measure despite their realization of the grave damage and injury that the Inquisition was to cause

1020 ]

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to Spain’s economy. As evidence he presents Isabella’s statement on the subject, according to the testimony of Pulgar.30 We may add to this Ferdi¬ nand’s own assertion on a different occasion.31 That financial considerations were not the prime motive for the Catholic Kings to establish the Inquisition is a view to which we can readily subscribe: it agrees with the conclusion that emerged from our analysis of the various issues involved. If other considerations of major importance had not moved them toward the inquisitional solution, they would not have come to think of the Inquisition in terms of financial gain. It is difficult to say when, or whether, Isabella came to assess the Inquisition in such terms.32 But Ferdi¬ nand was a different case. Once he was persuaded that the Inquisition was the only means of settling the converso problem, he decided to make every possible use of it as a financial resource.33 Dominguez Ortiz, however, does not share this opinion. “The Inquisition,” he says, “does not seem to have been good business” for the Spanish Kings. In the first period of its activity, he agrees, the Crown benefited from the confiscations “to an extent we cannot fix,” but “a few years later the Inquisi¬ tion became a burden,” because the income it derived from the confiscations it had made “did not suffice to cover its expenses.”34 Dominguez, moreover, seems to doubt that the Crown had any financial interest in the Inquisition even in the “first stage of the abundant confiscations.” His evidence: “A part of the income was assigned for works of piety or for the erection of sumptu¬ ous constructions” (such as the Church of St. Thomas in Avila or St.John in Guadalupe). “Some quantities,” he concedes, “were spent on the war with Granada, and others were included in the royal treasury,” but these sums must have been smaller than the losses incurred through the “economic breakdown caused by the persecution [of the conversos] and later by the expulsion of the Jews.”35 All this, however, in no way affects our position on the problem before us. The erection of sumptuous buildings with the funds of the Inquisition sug¬ gests an abundance, rather than a scarcity, of the resources obtained through the confiscations; and we really do not know the size of the “sums” drawn from the Inquisition for the war with Granada or for other needs of the royal treasury. In any case, conjecture on this matter would be besides the point. For even if the income of the Holy Office proved small or illusory after the first years of its activity, it does not mean that the expectations were not high when the Inquisition was founded; hence, these expectations may have served the King as an inducement to establish the tribunal. The conversos were held to be extremely rich, and Ferdinand may well have shared this notion. When, in 1478, following the War of Succession, he was faced with an empty treasury and a financially exhausted country, the fabled treasures of the conversos could have strengthened his inclination to establish the

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Inquisition. Finance was not the major factor, but it further tilted the weighted scales of his various calculations. It can hardly be doubted that the Sovereigns foresaw the economic harm the Inquisition would do and took it into account. But other interests, more crucial in their eyes, overrode that important consideration. Essentially, Dominguez agrees with us on this, except that in his opinion these interests were religious, while in ours they were social and political. The question, then, comes down to Ferdinand’s material expectations from the Inquisition within the limits of the liabilities it entailed. Like other rulers in financial straits, he could ordinarily be expected to exchange longrange advantages for immediate gains. But Ferdinand did not face that kind of dilemma. He had anyway sacrificed the greater part of the conversos’ long-term economic value for his kingdoms, and was prepared to suffer the economic losses to be caused by their persecution through the Inquisition. Extreme financial pressures concentrated his mind on the alternative left: him—namely, to try, as best he could, to turn the liability into an asset. That asset was of course the profit he hoped to reap from the Inquisition’s operations, and this in turn depended entirely on his assessment of the conversos’ wealth. Indubitably, Ferdinand could obtain sound estimates of the conversos’ fortunes from his tax farmers and treasurers, and on the basis of these estimates he could more or less envisage the possible income of the Inquisition. As we do not possess this information, we can try to get at his thinking from the other end—that is, through what we know or may conjec¬ ture about the income of the Inquisition from the New Christians in Spain. Dominguez is far off the mark in his attempt to minimize the income of the Holy Office throughout the period of its operation. It is true that in certain times and places the income of the Inquisition did not cover its costs, but this does not mean that at most times and places its income did not exceed its costs by far. To assess the income of the Inquisition through its exactions from New Christians, we must bear in mind its total intake in at least its first five decades. Today, however, we cannot compute this total on the basis of authentic, adequate data, simply because we lack vital informa¬ tion for many years, places, and types of exaction. T he excellent work done in this field by Tarsicio de Azcona in his Isabel la Catolica (1964) has certainly broadened our knowledge of the subject,36 but still too many blanks remain in his chart to make an overall calculation possible. Fortunately, we possess some general figures that give us an idea of the sums involved. On June 5, 1522, Don Juan Manuel, lord of Belmonte and Charles V’s ambassador to the court of the Pope, wrote the Emperor that the conversos of Aragon and Catalonia were endeavoring to get a judgment from the Rota, the papal Appellate Court, against the confiscations of goods from those of them who confessed voluntarily to their heresies. T he ambassador

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cautioned the King that, if such a judgment were obtained, he would have to return “more than a million ducats of the sums he had acquired in this manner.”37 This indication may serve as key to an assessment. It is hard to believe that the ambassador referred to the sums exacted by Charles himself from the voluntary confessors in the two provinces within the first five years of his reign; on the other hand, it is no more plausible that he referred to the exactions of the same category made in those provinces since the beginning of the Inquisition. Be that as it may, the fortunes confiscated from the condemned conversos in the kingdom of Aragon (including Valencia) in thirtyfive years of the Inquisition’s activity must have been far larger than those received from the conversos who confessed voluntarily; and therefore it could hardly be considered an exaggeration to assess the total of the confiscations in Aragon at 2.5 million ducats. The amounts extracted from the conversos in Castile would surely treble this estimate, so that the total confiscations in both countries would rise to 10 million ducats. This is indeed the very estimate indicated in another source. “In 1524,” says Henry Charles Lea, “the licenciado Tristan de Leon, in an elaborate memorial addressed to Charles V, asserted that Ferdinand and Isabella obtained from this source [i.e., the amounts wrung from the victims of the Inquisition] the enormous amount of more than 10,000,000 ducats, which greatly assisted them in their war against the Moors.”38 This was certainly an enormous amount, but not excessive compared to the sum mentioned in Juan Manuel’s letter and when the various sources from which it was gathered are duly taken into account. Nor was it evidently too great a share of the conversos’ wealth. Tarsicio de Azcona was certainly right when he said: “Against one case like that of the father of the bishop of Segovia, Juan Arias Davila, in which ... a fortune of 300,000 ducats was involved, we might find dozens of culprits with small fortunes, sufficient only for their mainte¬ nance.”39 But the Davilas were not the only converso millionaires; there were scores of extremely rich New Christians who could boast huge treasures and estates, and there were of course the numerous members of the middle class and the small earners of the lower classes. The income derived from the fines and confiscations extracted from these groups was not despised by the Inqui¬ sition, either. The small sums, too, were eagerly gathered and combined with the large ones to form the grand total. Llorente did not know of the 10 million ducats that Tristan de Leon mentioned as the income of the Inquisition in the period of the Catholic Kings; but bearing in mind what he gathered from Manuel, and no doubt from many other data, he reached the conclusion that financial considera¬ tions were Ferdinand’s main motive in establishing the Inquisition. Similarly, Ranke was unaware of the total quoted by Tristan de Leon in his memorial, but the datum mentioned by Juan Manuel sufficed for him to conclude that

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the financial factor played a great role in Ferdinand’s decision.40 And on similar grounds did Castillo and Castro form their own opinions on the subject. Nevertheless, we do not go as far as Llorente and his followers. We believe that Ferdinand’s main motive in establishing the Inquisition was his need to act on the converso problem in such a way as to secure internal stability and retain his people’s support. But the prospect of supplying his hard-pressed treasury by means that could be considered legal did not form a minor element in his careful calculations. It never became the decisive factor, but it was a major inducement for Ferdinand’s resolve to embark on that extreme anti-converso course.

IV

In attempting to determine the various reasons for the establishment of the Inquisition, we should also examine the more controversial view that the Inquisition was conceived, from the very start, as a means of attaining monarchic absolutism. The idea may have first occurred to the Florentine historians mentioned above. In modern times it was enunciated by Ranke, in his Princes and Peoples of Southern Europe (1827),41 and supported by such leading scholars as Hefele42 and Francis Guizot.43 The historical foundations of the theory are apparent. For more than two centuries since Alfonso X, Castile’s kings had endeavored to transform their rule into a government by divine right, but were repeatedly frustrated in this effort by a nobility no less determined to increase its own powers. In the iyth century, the absolutist drive reached its peak under Juan II and then fell to its lowest ebb under Enrique IV. In these circumstances, Ferdinand may have concluded that by ordinary means, military or political, royalty in Spain would never achieve its goal, and that only an inquisition controlled by the Kings could force the nobility to surrender to the monarch and make an absolute regime possible. The core of this theory, then, is the assumption that the Kings despaired of the political process as a possible means of achieving their ends. But the facts at our disposal do not support this assumption. When the Kings asked the pope to authorize the Inquisition (1478), and even more so when the tribunal was established (1480), most rebellious nobles had already been subdued, while the power of others was severely curtailed by the reduction of their incomes and estates.441 here remained only the comparatively minor problem of the small piratic nobles in the northwest (Galicia), whom the Kings planned to crush by military action—a plan they implemented in 1480. Thus, when the Spanish Inquisition was established, the nobility posed no threat to the Kings, while the latter were constantly strengthening their

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authority, so that one could believe that—in the not too distant future—it might serve as a basis for absolute rule. Nor was it for the sake of absolutism that Ferdinand attempted to subject the Spanish prelates to the jurisdiction of the Inquisition. For what he meant to achieve by that attempt was the subjugation of the converso bishops, whose exemption from the Inquisition’s prosecution served to undermine the pres¬ tige of the Holy Office and the campaign it was conducting against the conversos. Innocent VIII refused to grant him that privilege, which Nicholas V (in 1451) had granted Juan II, and allowed the Inquisition only to collect data in evidence against “suspected” bishops, and then submit that evidence to Rome for consideration and decision.45 This limited right allowed the Inquisition to embarrass, humiliate and otherwise embitter the life of any bishop it chose to “investigate,” and from the choices it made for this purpose we can see that, under Ferdinand, it was only converso prelates that the Inquisition sought to bring down. Two New Christian bishops—Arias Davila of Segovia and Pedro Aranda of Calahorra—and an archbishop, Hernando de Talavera of Granada, were selected as targets of the Inquisition’s inquiry during Ferdinand’s reign; and the reasons for this selection are not hard to see. Arias Davila incurred the wrath of the Inquisition when he threw its agents out of Segovia, and he no doubt also aroused its cupidity by the enormous family forrunes he possessed. Pedro de Aranda served in Rome as Master of the Sacred Palace, a key position in the papal administration, in which, it was believed, he could do much damage to the Inquisition; and Hernando de Talavera, who was revered for his saintliness, gave too much honor to the converso name for the Inquisition not to try to destroy him. Above all, it was important for the Inquisition to prove that no converso, however honored, or reputed for his faithfulness and piety, could not be a secret heretic. And thus even someone like the bishop of Segovia, who condemned Jews to death on a charge of ritual murder,46 or Talavera, who wrote a long tract against the Judaizersf1 or one like Pedro de Aranda, who sat at the heart of the Church organization, could be, in effect, a heretic in disguise. We may conclude therefore that the subjugation of the prelates by the Inquisition was not sought by Ferdinand to promote absolutism any more than was the subjugation of the nobles. As a matter of fact, the unruly prelates (including Carrillo, the most restive of them) were subdued before the Inquisition was established, and there was certainly no need to establish an inquisition to bring about their suppression. Lea, moreover, dismissed Ranke’s theory on the basis of the whole Inquisi¬ tional record.48 Neither Ferdinand nor his successors until the ascent of the Bourbon kings, he claimed, employed the Inquisition as a means of oppress¬ ing lay or clerical magnates. To be sure, Lea mentioned the famous trials of Carranza, Antonio Perez, and Villanueva as notable exceptions to this “rule.”

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But since none of these cases occurred in Ferdinand’s reign, we may perhaps take the record as an index of Ferdinand’s original intentions. One wonders, of course, at the uninterrupted peace that prevailed between Ferdinand and the great magnates. Part of the answer may lie in the fact that Ferdinand knew, as Lea pointed out, how to divert the interests of the nobility to the military, diplomatic and administrative tasks in his broadened dominions; but many Spanish nobles remained on their estates, and the lasting peace between the nobility and the monarchy during the reign of Ferdinand and his successors cannot therefore be explained solely by the reason suggested by Lea. We do know that at least some of the nobles were extremely unhappy with their role in the state. Is it, then, possible that the “peace” between the grandees and the sovereigns resulted, after all, from the perturbing fear the Inquisition instilled in the hearts of many nobles? To be sure, if we examine the behavior of the nobility toward Ferdinand and his successors, we shall have to conclude that fear was the cause of their usual submission to the monarch’s will. Yet while fear was the cause, it was not so much the Inquisition that the nobles feared as the power behind it, which was that of the King. This is clearly attested by the fact that no attack on the Inquisition by any noble took place throughout the first period of Ferdinand’s reign, which lasted more than twenty-five years (January 1481-June 1506), nor during the second period of his rule, which lasted for almost a decade (1507—1516). Only in the short interval between these periods, several months after Ferdinand had left Castile (in the wake of his resignation from Castile’s regency), did two Cordovan nobles lead an assault on the Inquisition which disrupted its activity in their city; and shortly after Ferdinand’s death, some nobles rose in revolt againstjimenez, then both Regent and Inquisitor-General. Jimenez, however, used his army to suppress them. No inquisitional order or threat would have brought about this result, and Jimenez, no doubt, would have considered such a move both useless and impolitic. Ferdinand, like Jimenez, clearly understood that the Inquisition was not an effective instrument to reduce the nobility to obedience, if it rose as a concerted force. It would be ridiculous to declare the great nobles heretics, or suspect them ofjudaic tendencies; and if such attempts were made against some of them, they would all before long rise against the King. When Philip IV made such a move against one nobleman (the Marquis of V illanueva), it proved to be a blunder too costly to repeat, and it could serve to demonstrate Ferdinand’s sagacity in avoiding such hazardous ventures. Yet the case of the Marquis could also prove that no single noble, however popular or innocent, could emerge victorious from a clash with the Inquisition. The conflict ended with the surrender of Villanueva, or of what was left of him a broken reed. The peace between the nobility and the monarchy, therefore, was actually

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based on a tacit understanding that the King would not employ the Inquisi¬ tion against the nobility in any disagreement he might have with its members. But there was no ironclad guarantee that, in exceptional cases, the cohorts of the Inquisition would not be directed against some isolated magnate, lay or ecclesiastic, and persecute him to the bitter end. In fact, every nobleman was likely to suspect that he might be that exceptional case; and in many instances such suspicions could increase a noble’s subservience to the monarch. We ought, however, to mention another factor, likewise connected with the Inquisition, which probably played a greater part in subjugating the Spanish nobility to the Crown. We have pointed out that by 1478, most of the restless nobles of Castile had been vanquished or reduced to obedience, and the Kings could feel no urgent need to set up an inquisition to aid in their suppression. But that does not mean that the problem of the relations be¬ tween the Crown and the nobility ceased to occupy their minds. Never could they forget the gloomy history of Castile in the reigns of the two kings who preceded them—reigns in which the nobles’ attacks on the Crown were interrupted only by brief intervals of peace, and they could of course suspect that their own peace with the nobility was no more than a truce—a part of the same cycle. Determined to prevent further assaults upon the Crown, they carefully weighed every plan of action, every major measure, and every policy proposed from the standpoint of the impact it might have on the nobles—that is, whether it would add to the strength of the nobility or weaken its potential for disturbance. The plan to set up an inquisition in Castile must likewise have been subject to this test. If in contemplating it the Kings had concluded that the Inquisition would increase the power of the nobility, they would doubtless have withdrawn from the project altogether. But their examination of the possibilities involved convinced them that they could expect the opposite. What they wanted to gain through the Inquisition, let us recall, was the sympathy and support of the urban masses; and this meant to get the support of the cities. But from this point a straight line of thinking must have led them to consider the impact of that goal upon the conduct of the nobility. If the Crown forged ties of friendship with the cities (or, more precisely, their Old Christian populations), the cities would inevitably be prevented from becom¬ ing allies of the nobles against the Crown. And thus, once the cities were neutralized, the nobility would be neutralized too, for no nobiliary revolt could be expected to succeed without urban support. This, then, was another way in which the Inquisition could help the Kings tame the nobility—not by inspiring the nobles with dread, but simply by denying them the main bases of power on which they could rely in a conflict with the King. The above observations, therefore, may be summarized as follows. The Inquisition was not established as a vehicle for royal absolutism in Spain. But

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when the sovereigns considered the possible effect it might have on the relations between the cities and the nobles, they could not fail to realize that the Inquisition would weaken the nobility by depriving it of the cities’ assistance. This must have encouraged them to proceed with their plan to set up the Inquisition, though it was not a major factor in determining their position. It was only an added argument, an auxiliary reason that helped them make up their mind in that direction.

V

Associated with the question whether the Inquisition was established to serve Spanish absolutism is the oft-repeated query whether, rather than a papal, it was a royal institution. The first to have answered this query affirmatively included leading Catholic scholars in Germany of the 19th century, such as Hefele, Gams and Hergenrother. The gist of their view was that the Spanish Inquisition, though it assumed the forms of an ecclesiastic tribunal and worked within the framework of canon law, was actually an instrument of secular authority that served primarily the interests of the state.49 In a frontal attack on these Catholic scholars, Lea accused them of having taken their position in order to “relieve the Church from the responsibility” for the Inquisition’s disreputable acts. By attributing this motive to the above scholars, without evidence or argument, Lea seems to have abandoned the rules of fairness to which he normally adhered, and exposed himself to the equally unfair charge that his own definition of the Inquisition as a religious court stemmed from the fact that, as a non-Catholic, he wished to relate the faults of the Inquisition to the Catholic Church. Nor did Lea strengthen his case when he noted that “in the Catholic reaction since the time of Hefele, the most advanced writers of that faith no longer seek to apologize for the Inquisition and to put forward royal predominance to relieve it from respon¬ sibility. They rightly represent it as an ecclesiastical tribunal which dis¬ charged the duty of preserving the religious purity for which it was created.”50 The writers who, in Lea’s opinion, “rightly” presented the case of the Holy Office, and to whom he referred as reliable authorities for the opposite view of the Inquisition, were Orti y Lara, Garcia Rodrigo and Ricardo Cappa. That these writers did not “apologize” for the Inquisition, as Lea put it, is true enough, but this was because they saw no reason for an apology, having found nothing wrong in its performance. For them the activities of the Spanish Inquisition were all just and holy, dedicated to the noble and vital task, which was the extirpation of heresy from the land; and it would not occur to any of them that the activities of the Inquisition implemented any

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plan formed for non-religious reasons. Likewise, it would not occur to them that Ferdinand was anything but a devout Catholic, carrying out his religious duties under the supreme guidance of the pope. No one should have known better than Lea that the Inquisition was not a Church tribunal in the ordinary sense of the word. To be sure, the popes authorized the aims of the Inquisition and allowed the Inquisitors to act in their name as formal apostolic messengers. In addition, they could supervise the activities of the Inquisition, insist on revising them, or suspend them altogether. To them was also reserved the right of sentencing prelates sus¬ pected of heresy, and it was to the sphere of papal authority that the highest court of appeals belonged. Theoretically, therefore, the popes’ power was great, and if one wishes to charge them, as many authors did, with moral responsibility for the Inquisition, one may find grounds for such a charge. Practically, however, the popes were rarely capable of challenging the might of Spain’s kings, and although they tried repeatedly to do so, they usually retreated before a crucial test. The reason was that the papacy headed not only a religious but also a political organization, and seeking to play both ends, it often sacrificed, as is well known, religious principle for political expediency. Nevertheless, there was frequent tension between the papacy and the Crown respecting the conduct of the Spanish Inquisition, and this tension occasionally generated clashes, which strained the relations between the two powers. In these clashes, both sides sometimes stretched their antagonisms almost to the point of a break, without, however, allowing a break to take place. The popes, to be sure, displayed in most cases less stamina than the kings, and in consequence gradually surrendered to the latter more and more of their prerogatives. Nevertheless, they never gave up their ultimate author¬ ity over the Inquisition. Nor did the kings want them to do so. It was in their interest that the Inquisition appear to be the highest ecclesiastic tribunal. Thus, it is impossible to answer the question whether the Inquisition was papal or royal in absolute terms. Considering its ties to and dependence on the pope, which were by no means merely formal, the Inquisition was in part papal; but bearing in mind the real power behind it, the one that determined its policies and actions, it must be admitted that the papal part was minor, and hence that the Inquisition was mainly royal. For it was the king who nominated and virtually appointed the chief Inquisitors and also dismissed them,51 determined the salaries of the Inquisitors, received their reports, and gave them orders. Furthermore, it was the king who supervised the confisca¬ tions, instructed the receivers, scolded or encouraged them, and it was solely in accord with his wishes that the officials of the Inquisition, who were his officials, made financial deals with sons of condemned persons and freed them

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from disabilities imposed by canon law against payments to the royal excheq¬ uer. More than the pope, the king bent Church laws for profits whose size he himself determined, without giving the Church any of the income, or even seeking its consent or counsel. To be sure, from time to time the popes tried to interfere with the practices and procedures of the Spanish Inquisition, but more often than not they were rudely defied, and on the few occasions that they had their way, they had it on matters, in a manner and to an extent that the king considered necessary, or unavoidable. The Spanish Inquisition, then, was a royal tribunal for all its major pur¬ poses—almost as Gams and Hegenrother claimed, even though it was mod¬ eled according to the patterns, rules and guidelines of the medieval inquisition. It is surprising that Lea did not recognize this fact, which is so incontestably demonstrated by the evidence which he himself had so dili¬ gently assembled. Indeed, since it is apparent from this evidence that the pope’s authority over the Inquisition was minimal—that is, confined to the extremely narrow limits which the Kings of Spain assigned to him from the outset—one might have expected Lea to pose the question why, to begin with, the Kings turned to the Pope with the request to authorize the establish¬ ment of the Inquisition, and did not create an episcopal inquisition (of the kind proposed by Oropesa and Pacheco), and thus be less exposed to papal interference and the requirement of papal consent. As we see it, the answer to this question reveals both Ferdinand’s expectations from the Inquisition and his political prudence. It was not difficult for Ferdinand to foresee that the Inquisition, as he planned and envisaged its activities, would generate harsh criticisms, bitter complaints and severe charges on the part of the conversos and others who might take their side; and he wanted to divert such censures to the Pope, who could shield the Inquisition against such attacks. One of the documents published by Lea reflects this intention clearly. Speaking of the massive confiscations by the Inquisition of the property of its victims and their children, Lea says that there was evidently “popular repugnance to this spoliation and no one wished to be responsible for it. Ferdinand, in a procla¬ mation of October 29, 1485, declared that the confiscations were made by order of the Pope, in discharge of his. [i.e., Ferdinand’s] conscience and by virtue of his obedience to Holy Mother Church.”52 Of course, all confiscations of heretics’ possessions were in a sense made at the pope’s order, since it was he who authorized the proceedings of the Inquisition in accordance with canon law; but the pope did not order the specific confiscations carried out by the Inquisition, or confirm that the instructions of canon law were correctly applied to the cases in question. Ferdinand’s reliance on the pope in this instance was merely a clever ruse, a move in his battle of public opinion, and it contained no more evidence of his sincerity than his claims regarding his

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“obedience” to Holy Mother Church and the “discharge of his conscience.” We should, however, note two more reasons for the preference Ferdinand gave to a papal inquisition over an episcopal one. To begin with, an episcopal inquisition would have made him depend too much on the bishops, whose stand as a group was unpredictable and some of whom could be reasonably expected to take different positions on the converso question. In case of disagreements he might have with these bishops, they could be expected to seek assistance from the pope, and thus the king might be faced with a two-front opposition, domestic and external, at the same time. This was of course an important consideration based on what he could easily foresee. But the second reason was even more important. It hinged upon Ferdinand’s clear understanding that, to run the Inquisition, he would need moral backing of a kind that episcopal support could not provide. For the bishops were known to depend on the Crown for the attainment of promotions and preferred positions, and even if they all cooperated with the king, their cooperation was likely to be often perceived as a mere manifestation of self-interest. Ferdinand’s eyes, therefore, turned to Rome. If formally sanc¬ tioned and supervised by the pope, the highest religious authority in Chris¬ tendom, the Inquisition, he realized, would assume credibility that no ordinary bishop could give it. Royal support of such an inquisition would be viewed as compliance with papal instructions, while its being backed by both pope and king—i.e., the spiritual and temporal powers—would make it hard to question its motives and resist its decisions. For this double gain of augmented authority and increased guarantee against possible trouble, Fer¬ dinand was willing to pay the price of minimal papal interference.

VI

Such were the public or monarchic motives that impelled King Ferdinand to establish the Inquisition and also determined, to a large extent, the nature and scope of its operation. But besides these motives, which we called “public,” because they all related to the governance of the state, there was a personal factor that played a major part in producing the above results. It consisted of the character and abilities of King Ferdinand, without whom the Inquisition might not have been launched—and if it had, it might not have assumed those special forms by which it exerted so powerful an influence. Hence, to comprehend the Spanish Inquisition, it is necessary to understand the man who created it, conceived its design, molded its structure, guided and controlled it, and infused it with his spirit throughout the first three decades of its eventful existence. We have already indicated our departure from Lea’s definition of the Spanish Inquisition as an “ecclesiastical tribunal.” Now we must part even

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more completely from his view of the real master of that institution. In Lea’s opinion, Ferdinand of Aragon was “sincere in his religious convictions,”53 or as he put it elsewhere in his work, a “sincerely bigoted” man.54 Accordingly, he saw in the Inquisition not merely a “financial or political instrument” but “a means of defending and advancing the faith.”55 Proof of this Lea sees in Ferdinand’s letter of September 30, 1509, to the Inquisitor Juan Alonso de Navia, after witnessing an auto-da-fe in Valladolid, in which he expressed the “great pleasure that it had given him as a means of advancing the honor and glory of God and the exaltation of the Holy Catholic faith.”56 Lea also presents as evidence of Ferdinand’s devoutness his responses to Inquisitors who reported on the autos they had celebrated, responses phrased “in terms of high satisfaction, urging them to increased zeal.”57 As we shall show further on, we cannot see in these expressions either indications of sincere belief or strong religious motivation. Taken together with other evidence of Ferdinand’s religious attitudes, they appear quite dilferent from how Lea perceived them. Nor do we see in the concessions Ferdinand made to some of the sufferers from the Inquisition’s confiscations—or in the occasional orders he issued in support of some “honest claims” of its victims—a manifestation of “kindli¬ ness” or a “spirit of justice,” which Lea saw in them.58 Since Ferdinand gave these orders to his officials in confidential correspondence, they could not have possibly reflected, Lea believed, “a hypocritical affectation of fair¬ ness.”59 Lea appears right when these orders are considered within the limited scope of the incidents involved. When viewed in conjunction with Ferdinand’s policies, however, they assume quite a different meaning. Lea, in fact, makes a major error in reading Ferdinand’s intentions. For Ferdinand was possessed with one desire, which was to strengthen and expand his power; and to attain this end, he knew no other means save the art of politics. Indeed, rather than an art, politics was to him a science—the science of gaining and expanding power, which to him was not only “beyond good and evil,” but also beyond man’s deepest emotions. His political con¬ duct reflects his belief that the statesman must not only learn how to over¬ come, or at least how to control, his feelings, but also how to suppress his moral judgments. Apparently, Ferdinand was never much troubled by his personal moral and religious requirements, and Prudencio de Sandoval may have sensed this when he noted how the King, in the last days of his life, kept avoiding his confessor. “I came here,” he said to him, “to negotiate state affairs, not to discharge my conscience.”60 Yet this is not to say that he was a Cesare Borgia, ostentatiously displaying contempt for moral values. Ferdinand, in contrast, sought to appear ethical and religious; for he accurately assessed the crucial part played by ethics and religion in human affairs. Instead of openly defying morality, he sought to

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employ it for his own ends. He knew how to evaluate mass feelings as a factor in social life, and used the force of popular passions (to borrow a metaphor from later times) as steam to move his ship of state. Thus he harnessed the hatred for the conversos and the laws of the Church concerning heresy to advance his political interests, all the while trying to appear as Holy Mother Church’s true son, whose eagerness to guard religious law even exceeded his desire to guard the civil one. In civil life the task involved no problem, since it fully agreed with his political aims (for a state could be governed well, he believed, only when duly governed by law). In the case of the Inquisition, however, where Church law was often flouted, he acted as if he knew little or nothing about the abuses referred to by the critics, and as if he had implicit faith in the legal and moral propriety of the Inquisitors. To implant this belief in his country and beyond it, he had to rely on his talents for simulation, persuasion and manipulation of public opinion. Few statesmen surpassed him in these capac¬ ities. In his relations with his officials, including the Inquisitors, Ferdinand tried to project the same image that he displayed to the general public. He clearly understood that his public image would be much affected by the rumors and reports emanating from his inner circles. Accordingly, he refrained from formally inquiring into the Inquisition’s judicial proceedings, so as to avoid responsibility for its verdicts and prevent anyone from disputing his claim that he had full confidence in the Inquisitors’ judgments. But he often inter¬ fered in the gathering and division of the Inquisition’s spoils, on which occasions he could show the “receivers” his interest in their work, as well as his insistence on the fulfillment of the laws when they were in favor of the victims. He wanted the receivers of compensations to know that they must respect the law just as he did (which would enhance his reputation as a lawful king), and he wanted to accustom them to keep the laws and thereby check their inclination to theft and embezzlement (which would of course increase the Crown’s income). He could show largess in small matters, and occasion¬ ally appear even magnanimous, when he knew that most of the great confis¬ cations were to go to his exchequer; but there was no fairness in his conduct for fairness’ sake and no real magnanimity of the heart. Lea says that Ferdi¬ nand was not “naturally cruel” and “took no pleasure in human suffering”61 (which appears to be a correct observation); but Lea forgot to add that neither could “human suffering” stir sympathy or pain in him, or deter him from implementing his plans. He could coldly sacrifice throngs of civilians for political ends, just as he could sacrifice battalions of soldiers to win a contest on the battlefield. Essentially, he viewed both civilians and soldiers as peons in his game of power; but he did his best to conceal the fact. To consider such a morally unprincipled man “religiously sincere” is to

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us unthinkable; nor can we regard him as a “sincere bigot”; for a “sincere bigot” fiercely believes in the notions that dictate his actions. Ferdinand, for his part, did not wish to be regarded as bigoted in any sense. Had he been a bigot, or wished to be considered one, he would not have filled his court with Marranos when the Inquisition sought to make every Marrano appear potentially guilty of heresy—i.e., of the gravest religious crime in the world. Bigotry would have precluded such conduct, but the laws permitted it—and this is what counted with Ferdinand. He labored to present himself as a stickler for the law, both civil and canon. This simulated faithfulness to the laws of the Church, which were fre¬ quently violated by the Inquisition, must be extended to his attitude toward the popes. While publicly he spoke reverently of papal authority and pre¬ sented himself as the pope’s loyal servant, he actually held the popes in contempt, defied their instructions when they displeased him and vehe¬ mently demanded that they be revoked and that the popes do his bidding. He viewed the papacy as a political tool which could be useful to him in attaining his ends, and he could hardly contain his wrath and impatience when it did not live up to his expectations. When he addressed the pope in polite or measured terms, it was either because he feared his resistance, or because he thought that a friendly approach would serve him better than a rude one; but he never felt for the pope the reverence due to the head of the Catholic Church. In fact, he viewed the popes as crafty politicians who cared for their interests precisely as he did, except that he considered them much beneath himself, and seemed to have frothed at the need to ask them favors, as if he were a beggar and they the benefactors. He appears to have developed a hatred for the popes, as Adolfo de Castro correctly observed. Although, said Castro, that hatred was “often on the very verge of bursting upon the court of Rome, it remained locked up in the prison of his own breast”62 until “at last it came to an open exhibition” on the occasion of some action of Pope Julius II, which he regarded as prejudicial to his rights. Since this action took place in Naples, he wrote to Count Ribagorza, his viceroy, a letter in which he not only chided him severely for yielding to the Pope’s instructions, but also indicated to him, in “intemperate expressions,” what he should have done to earn his [i.e., Ferdinand’s] approval. “Why," he asked, “didyou not comply with our wishes and strangle the legate who presented the brief to you? It is quite clear that the Pope will... do the same in other kingdoms, for the sake of extending his jurisdiction. But good viceroys proceed in a summary way with such fellows, and by the infliction of a single punishment, prevent others from making similar attempts.”63 That this outburst was not spontaneous but calculated, reflecting latent feelings and long-pondered behavior, is indicated by the contents and spirit of the letter he addressed to the Pope through his ambassador to the curia.

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The letter presented a vile threat to the papacy, a threat that could hardly be expected from a king who claimed to be an executor of the pope’s orders and a guardian of the Church’s laws. He communicated that threat to his viceroy, too, and also stated, in that communication that he was “positively determined, should his Holiness refuse to revoke the brief as well as the acts performed by its authority, to deprive him of the obedience now paid him by the realms of Castile and Aragon, and to take such other steps and make such other provisions as

a case of such gravity and emergency requires.”64 The “gravity” and “emergency” referred to by the King concerned, sur¬ prisingly, only several excommunications, which the Pope declared in Na¬ ples without consulting the King—a step which may not have been common but which was certainly within the Pope’s prerogatives. Without even seek¬ ing an explanation for that step, Ferdinand reacted with the grim ultimatum that the papal brief be immediately revoked if the Pope did not wish to lose the allegiance of both Castile and Aragon. This was how Ferdinand displayed his care for the unity and glory of the Catholic Church, in the name of which he so often claimed to act. In fact, his oft-declared devotion to religion masked an essentially cynical attitude toward the ideals of Christianity and the interests of the Church. To overlook these elements in Ferdinand’s tactics obscures the reasons for his behavior, and particularly his behavior with respect to the Inquisition. Lea, who discerned and correctly noted several important features of his character, missed (or misinterpreted) other characteristics which would have required him to change his portrait of Ferdinand. Yet it is only the true portrait that can help explain his motives in establishing the Inquisition and determining its course of action. To justify the portrait he drew of Ferdinand, Lea tried to reduce as much as possible the King’s responsibility for the excesses of the Inquisition and instead blamed the “corrupt officials” in whom he, the King, placed his confidence. That argument, however, must be judged untenable on the grounds of Lea’s own assembled evidence of Ferdinand’s part in running the Inquisition and defending its methods and operations. For Ferdinand was not only the supreme head of the Inquisition and its overall supervisor; he was also its firm controller. To assume that he was not aware of the atrocities that many of the Inquisitors had committed—and this for a period of thirty-five years'.—is to defy all probability and all reasonable judgment. Nevertheless, it is only on the basis of such an assumption that one can say that Ferdinand, in shielding the Inquisition, was sincerely cleaving to the laws of the Church.

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VI

A wrong hypothesis must sooner or later bring its follower to an impasse, and this is what happened also to Lea when faced with the case of Lucero. The ghastly story of this fiendish creature and the Inquisitional excesses he had committed has been told by scholars several times. Here we shall refer to it only insofar as it relates to the present discussion. Diego Rodriguez Lucero, chief Inquisitor in Cordova from 1499 to 1508, was an arch-criminal in whom Lea sees the “incarnation of the evils” result¬ ing from the powers lodged in the Inquisitional tribunals. The terrible crimes and atrocities he perpetrated were only brought to light by the resistance they had provoked, which led to a formal investigation of his performance and the issuance of a guilty verdict against him. This investigation began, we should note, during the absence of Ferdinand from Castile—that is, during the reign of Philip of Austria and the subsequent brief interregnum. Accord¬ ing to Lea, the shocking revelations made in the case of Lucero and his accomplices “afford us the only opportunity of obtaining an inside view of what was possible under the usually impenetrable mantle of secrecy charac¬ teristic of inquisitional procedure”65 Lea’s statement stands in need of correction. By no means can we agree to his assertion that the Lucero affair offered the only window through which we can see what went on inside the Inquisition. Lea himself provided us with many such “windows,” among them the case of Brianda de Bardaxi, one of a multitude of obscure sufferers, whose “commonplace story” he minutely investigated and skillfully presented in a special study.66 No other case can offer a clearer “inside view” of the proceedings of the Holy Office, or better illustrate how the agonies of the torture chamber, long years of incarceration, and the testimonies of false witnesses were employed to extract from inno¬ cent New Christians confessions of crimes they had never committed. Other aspects of the same persecution are revealed with equal clarity in the partly extant records, not only of the “common” but also celebrated cases of the Inquisition, such as that of the Holy Child of La Guardia. Indeed, this case—which relied on several gross myths drawn from medieval superstition, resting on the subsoil of another crude myth involving the murder of Chris¬ tian children by Jews—could be rightly called, as one of the accused put it, “the greatest lie in the world.” Yet on the basis of this lie, in which the “murdered child” was no more than a phantom (as it was never identified, was nowhere missed, and its body was never produced), six conversos and five Jews were sentenced to death.67 Does not this trial, which was engineered by the Inquisition (including its leaders on the highest level), offer a clear “inside view” of the performance of the Holy Office? What is more, we believe that we can gain such a view not only from

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individual cases, but also from available testimonies on the general activity of the Inquisition. According to these testimonies, the Inquisitors and their aides, inspired by hate and desire for vengeance, tormented, robbed, and delivered to the stake numerous conversos who were sincere Christians. And these attestations cannot be questioned. They were held to be true not only by Fernando de Pulgar, who was well informed and extremely cautious,68 but also by Pope Sixtus IV69—and not by this pope alone. As late as May 20,1520, Don Juan Manuel, Charles V’s ambassador to the court of Pope Leo X, informed the Emperor of the Pope’s accusation that “terribly evil things -were being done by the Inquisition” and that the Pope insisted on the truth of this accusation despite all the ambassador’s efforts to rebut it.70 Rome knew what the Inquisition was and clearly saw its true face. And cannot we too discern its features? Is not the abundant information we possess—besides the cases singled out by Lea—sufficient to make us fully aware of what was going on in the dungeons of the Inquisition? We certainly know enough to judge correctly what kind of tribunal the Inquisition was—unless we make up our minds in advance to believe the Inquisitors more than their victims and the torturers more than the tortured. But let us return to Lucero. From September 7, 1499, when he became Inquisitor in Cordova, until May 18,1508, Lucero’s persecution of the New Christians in the city left a trail of blood to match anything left by the Inquisition elsewhere. But then he expanded his persecution to include Old Christians. It happened that early in his Cordovan career he quarreled with some Old Christian officials, and in his rage conducted a personal vendetta, which soon developed into a general attack upon Cordova’s Old Christian community. The apparent helplessness of this community in the face of Lucero’s machinations opened for him new, almost incredible opportunities. He discovered that what was done to the New Christians could be done with impunity to the Old Chris¬ tians, too; and it occurred to him that he could take massive actions against both groups on the basis of the old charge that the conversos engaged in a nationwide campaign to Judaize Spain. By means of torture, he extracted “evidence” that this campaign had gained many Old Christian converts who had turned their homes into synagogues and meeting places for the preaching of Judaic missionaries. On the basis of such charges and such “evidence,” Lucero and his associates condemned many Old Christians, citizens of Cor¬ dova, to the stake, among them “nobles and gentlemen and Church dignitar¬ ies ... of unblemished reputation and limpios de sangre."lx But the tentacles of Lucero and his colleagues spread beyond Cordova to embrace—or throt¬ tle

much of the country, so that “they were able,” as one contemporary

wrote, “to defame the whole Kingdom; to destroy without God and justice, a great part of it, slaying and robbing and violating maids and wives to the great dishonor of the Christian religion.”72 The Old Christians of the country

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were shocked and puzzled, but the Cordovans, who were in the eye of the storm, knew precisely what had caused it. Moreover, it took a number of years before they gathered enough courage to express their protests to Diego de Deza, the Inquisitor-General, who was in close touch with King Ferdinand. And this brings us back to Lea’s assertion that Ferdinand was primarily inter¬ ested in the Inquisition “as a means of defending and advancing the faith.” To be sure, in Lea’s opinion Lucero was an exceptional “monster,”73 but he recognized that, fundamentally, he represented an institution, a system of operations and a body of officials who were “wicked” and “perverse” in the extreme. Referring to the excesses of Lucero and his associates, Lea said, quite sensibly, that “when a horde of rapacious officials, clothed in virtual inviolability, was let loose upon a defenseless population, such violence and rapine were inevitable incidents”74; and further: since “such wickedness could be safely perpetrated for years and only be exposed and ended through the accidental intervention of Philip [of Austria] and Juana [his wife],” during their brief rule of Castile, “it may safely be assumed that the tempta¬ tions of secrecy and irresponsibility render frightful abuses, if not universal, at least frequent.”75 But these true statements absolutely contradict Lea’s view of Ferdinand. For if these “frightful abuses” were inevitable, if on top of this they were frequent, how can one explain Ferdinand’s failure to take action against them for six whole years; and how can one reconcile Lea’s view of Ferdinand with the “unswerving support” the King offered that “monster,” notwithstanding all the clamors and complaints which undoubtedly reached the King’s ears? Lea, who could not ignore these questions, but still sought to uphold his view of Ferdinand, tried to explain the King’s support of Lucero by the “complicity ofjuan Roiz de Calcena, a corrupt and mercenary official, who was Ferdinand’s secretary in inquisitional affairs.”76 But this explanation is untenable. Ferdinand was no Enrique IV, who could be fooled for many years by a devious secretary. Even if he did not suspect Calcena of complicity with Lucero, he could have assumed that Calcena was misled, and the numerous accusations leveled at the Inquisitor should have moved him to open an investigation of his conduct, which would surely have revealed to him the deceptions of Lucero and of Calcena, his accomplice. But this is not what Ferdinand did. He continued to engage his corrupt secretary and allowed Lucero to go on with his activity; and what is even more astonishing: he continued to care for Lucero’s welfare even after his gruesome crimes were revealed and confirmed by a formal investigation. Such conduct on the part of Ferdinand cannot be explained by a regard for fairness, or honesty, or justice, or any moral principle. It can be explained only by self-interest. This conclusion becomes inescapable when we note the peculiarity of Lucero’s drive. For what was unique about him was not the magnitude of the crimes he committed or the scope of the excesses he perpetrated

namely,

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that he burned so many innocent people, or violated so many maidens and matrons, or confiscated such enormous amounts of property—but the fact that he persecuted, apart from conversos, many Old Christians of all urban classes. In doing so, Lucero diverted the Inquisition from its original course of activity to a path which the King had consistently avoided; and it is clear that Ferdinand would not have tolerated this diversion unless he considered it useful to his purposes. But what could that usefulness be? As we see it, the King felt that Lucero’s persecution could counteract the campaign waged by the New Christians against him and the Inquisition in Spain and abroad. This campaign portrayed Ferdinand as an arch-hypocrite and his Inquisition as an engine of tyranny and extortion that had nothing to do with the real condition of the faith, which they falsely claimed to protect. Not only in the kingdoms of the Iberian peninsula, but in Italy and France— and, in fact, all over Christendom—his reputation was tarnished by the rampant accusation that he used the myth of Judaic heresy for his political and financial ends, and that Judaism posed no danger to Spain since almost all conversos were sincere Christians, as they were actually seen by the popes and their officials. The strongest evidence in support of these claims was of course the fact that, unlike all other heresies, the so-called Jewish one had never drawn Old Christians to its ranks. The implied question which must have been asked was: How could this happen if for more than a century a cunning and powerful converso underground was secretly preachingjudaism in Spain? Surely such an underground should have left some traces among the Old Christians! Ferdinand was anxious to meet this argument which, he feared, might ultimately make a travesty of the Inquisition and his honorific title as Catholic King. He did not know, however, how to go about it until Lucero showed him the way. Lucero demonstrated that the Inquisition, with its methods, with its garrots and its racks, could achieve much more than anyone had imagined. Just as it “proved” that there were myriads ofjudaizers among the New Chris¬ tians, it could “prove” that there were thousands ofjudaizers among the Old ones. Who could assume that the Holy Office would burn good Old Chris¬ tians as heretics? And who would believe that Ferdinand would allow Old Christians to be persecuted without sufficient reason? Obviously, if the new myth could spread and be sustained, the Inquisition’s campaign against the conversos would be seen in a different light. His claims about the converso “danger” would be vindicated, and he would be hailed as the deliverer of Christendom from a heresy that could subvert even a Christian nation like Spain. It is hard to know how long and how far he intended this persecution to go on, but it is evident that five years after it started, he did not yet believe that its aims had been achieved. Lucero was in the midst of constructing his

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grand edifice of deadly libel when he was surprised by the spirited attacks which the Cordovans launched against him and his associates. Despairing of the King and his Inquisitor-General, who would not institute an inquiry into Lucero’s conduct, the Cordovans finally turned to the Pope, and Ferdinand now saw himself threatened. He feared that Lucero might not only be denounced, but also drag down with him the reputation of the Inquisition, as well as of its head and architect, the King. Thus, stepping into the dangerous breach that had opened in the Inquisition’s wall of secrecy, he wrote on November 17, 1505, to Pope Julius II, urging him to reject the Cordovans’ petitions. The Pope, he claimed, should accept the punishments imposed on Lucero’s accused prisoners, not only as just but also as indispens¬ able. “For if I or any other prince,” he wrote, “had declined to inflict” these punishments, “there would have been created such a great schism and heresy in the Church of God as would be greater than that of Arius, and Your Holiness ought to thank God that it was discovered in my time to have it punished and repressed.”77 Here is the indirect confession of the motive that moved him to support Lucero. He wanted to present the persecution of the New Chris¬ tians as a means of averting a grave danger to Christendom. Thus, he would not only justify that persecution and the part that he (and the Inquisition) played in it. He would also appear as the savior of Christianity from the threat of a terrible heresy and schism which, according to his own assertion, was “greater than that of Arius.” The threat, however, was not averted by his letter. Pressing for their rights, the Cordovans in Rome were assisted by the ambassador of Philip of Austria, who was unreservedly on their side, while Ferdinand continued his strenu¬ ous efforts to block the acceptance of their petitions. On April 22, 1506, he wrote to Loaysa, his Roman agent for the Inquisition, ordering him to do whatever he could to foil the attempt to “destroy the Inquisition,” which was now “more necessary than ever.”78 “Minute instructions were given as for the influence” that he must bring to bear, and he was reminded that "Holy Writ permits the use of craft and cunning to perform the work of God. ”79 Craft and cunning were indeed Ferdinand’s weapons, and no more typical instruction, written in his spirit, could have issued from his chancellery. If the truth of the affair was eventually discovered and Ferdinand failed to achieve his goal, it was because, at the crucial moment in the struggle against Lucero, Ferdinand was forced to abandon the regency of Castile in favor of his son-in-law, Philip of Austria, and also because Lucero, Deza and Ferdi¬ nand himself miscalculated the extent to which they could stretch the big lie when it was applied to Old Christians. The numerous bitter complaints of the New Christians against their persecution by the Inquisition remained voices crying in the wilderness, but those of the Old Christians were ultimately heard and led to a formal inquiry, to Deza’s resignation as Inquisitor-

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General, and to an unreserved verdict of “guilty” against Lucero, the arch¬ criminal. Were it not for this, many good scholars would have pored over the documents of the Cordovan Inquisition, studied the accusations so convinc¬ ingly presented by the clever scribes and censors of the Holy Office, and been astonished at the breadth and strength of the “Judaic” movement that could subvert so many Old Christians in Spain. Said Lafuente in his discussion of the Lucero case: “It would certainly have been hard for us to believe in the enormities of the crimes committed by Lucero and his associates, had we not in our hands the data which the Cordovans instructed their deputies to submit to King Philip, Queen Juana and the members of their Council, in the name of the Church and the city of Cordova, about the excesses of the Inquisitors.”80 The New Christians were not so fortunate. They did not have Old Christian prelates like Juan de Daza to raise their voices in their defense, or a city like Cordova to send its deputies to represent them, or noblemen like the Marquis of Priego to liberate their prisoners from the carcels of the Inquisition. The accounts of their own protests and appeals were suppressed and destined to oblivion. And thus, in dealing with their cases, even great and insightful scholars like Lafuente would have before them only the records of the Inquisition, and in using them they would find it “hard to believe” that they conceal behind them a story far more sinister, and atrocities far greater, even than those that may be gathered from the censored reports of the Holy Office.

V. Conclusions Our survey of the conflict between the Old and New Christians in the Spanish kingdoms of the fifteenth century has come to its appointed end, and with this we have also completed our search for the origins of the Spanish Inquisition. What we have gathered from our various investigations can now be summarized as follows. We have seen that Ferdinand established the Inquisition as a means of appeasing the anti-Marrano party in order to impair, if not thwart, its capac¬ ity to cause new riots and disorders. He could no doubt foresee the damage and disruption that the Inquisition would cause the social fabric of the nation and the harm it would do to the country’s economy, but he hoped to minimize the unavoidable losses by allowing all conversos not condemned by the Inquisition to retain their positions and proceed with their activities, and also by using the income of the Inquisition to further the monarchy’s favorite projects. That he generally succeeded in achieving these aims cannot, in our judgment, be denied. But while the Inquisition served him as a tool, he remained in a sense a tool of the Inquisition, or rather of the movement from which it emerged. Never did Ferdinand lose sight of his need to be on good terms with the popular force that stood behind the Holy Office. This force was of course the anticonvert movement that followed all large-scale Jewish conversions in Spain in the period of the Reconquest. The antagonism displayed by that movement to the converts varied from time to time in its manifestations, but its source was always the same: an aversion to the converts prior to their conversion—that is, as members of the Jewish people. The inseparable link between thejewish and the converso problems as they evolved on the Spanish scene is thus indicated by the very sequence of events. The question that has remained for posterity to grapple with is: What was the nature of that link? The weight of the evidence has led us to the assumption that Old Christian hatred of the Spanish Marranos was basically an extension of Christian hatred for the Jews—an extension that apparently could not be prevented by a mere change of religion. But this assumption has not been explored. None of the scholars who have dealt with the Marrano question has considered it worthy of investigation; for following the Inquisition, they relied on its claim that Old Christian antagonism toward the Marranos sprang primarily from their religious misconduct—namely, their overt unfaithfulness to Christian¬ ity and their covert practice ofjewish rites. Upon examination, however, this claim proved unfounded. That it is not valid for the later period

from 1449

on—is evident from the fact that the contemporary Marranos had already

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been overwhelmingly Christianized; and that it is inapplicable to the earlier period is attested, among other things, by the absence of such terms as Judaizers and crypto-Jews from the slurs hurled at the Marranos at that time. The rapid Christianization of the conversos was no doubt so generally recognized that reviling them on that particular score seemed to have been pointless. The same conclusion will be reached by observing Christian attitudes toward the converts from another angle. When in 1109, in 1367, and in 1391 the Christian Spaniards arose to slay the Jews in their towns, it was not only religion that fired their hatred. The avowed “desire to avenge Christ’s blood” may have served both as pretext and stimulant, but sociological factors, such as those we have indicated, were without doubt the dominant cause. That is why the pogromists paid little heed to Church prohibitions on killing and robbing the Jews and went on with their work of murder and spoliation as if no such orders existed. To be sure, they spared Jews who consented to be baptized, but in doing so they yielded to a widely held taboo on taking the lives of would-be Christians. The self-restraint they exhibited on such occa¬ sions sprang, as with every other taboo, from awe for a custom considered inviolable rather than from obedience to religious law. In 1391, it also stemmed in large measure from their obedience to Martinez’ instructions. It did not stem, in any case, from a revolution in the feelings of the pogromist assailants toward their potential victims, or from a newborn, genuine desire to welcome the converts wholeheartedly to the fold. Therefore, when on the morrow of the conversion the assailants were instructed to treat the converts “amica¬ bly,” to assist them as “brothers” and regard them as “equals,” they defied that instruction (which was—again!—a Church instruction!) and made it clear that they would not fulfill it. It was of course unrealistic to expect a different reaction on their part. Human emotions are not so flexible as to change swiftly from revulsion to affection, and from long-lasting hate to sustained toleration, merely in re¬ sponse to outside authority. Least of all could such a change be expected in the attitude toward Jewish converts. As indicated above, the hatred of the Jews that pervaded the West from the first two centuries of the medieval era did not stem solely from a religious disagreement, but also from a variety of social-economic conflicts that evolved from the particular condition of the Jews. Conversion, therefore, could at best eliminate one of the components— the religious element—from the aggregate of factors producing that hostility; it could not prevent the remaining components—and especially the percep¬ tion of the Jew as alien—from keeping the fires of hatred burning. Diagnosing the growth of anti-Marranism in Spain, Fernan Diaz de Toledo said that “hatred of the stranger” was the main source of the anti-Marrano movement. And Alonso Diaz de Montalvo, a no less keen observer and profound analyst

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of the same phenomenon, stated—after examining all possible explanations for the hateful discrimination against the Spanish conversos—that he could see no other reason for that discrimination save the fact that the Marranos were regarded as “strangers.” To be sure, for a short time after the conversion, most Old Christians displayed self-control; the general level of aggression was reduced, and the active hatred became passive or dormant. But as soon as the convert showed the Old Christians that he intended to take his Christianity seriously—that he wished to fulfill all the duties it placed on him, while benefiting from the rights it entitled him to; when he approached the Old Christians with concrete demands to regard him as a full-fledged citizen; above all, when he offered his candidacy for the offices that were open to all other followers of the faith, the Old Christian soon lost his composure, and his passive aversion once again became active. For these demands of the converts immediately touched off the wow-religious causes of the conflict with the Jews, and the winds of hatred which kept blowing toward the latter engulfed in their sweep the converts, too. Soon the Old Christians began to look for ways to reverse the laws of both Church and state that granted the converts equality of status; and their determination to achieve this reversal was not weakened by their realization that the converts were becoming more and more attached to Christian customs and beliefs. In fact, the more Christianized the conversos became, the less the Old Christians agreed to put them on an equal footing with themselves. It follows that the aversion of the Old Christians for the New did not arise from the latter’s religious misconduct but was actually an extension of the antisemitic tendencies that had already troubled Spain in the nth century. More precisely, in one measure or another, Spanish anti-Judaism became anti-Marranism the moment the Jew became a converso, regardless of whether his conversion was fictitious, doubtful, halfhearted, or sincere. It was the same old hatred aimed at the same group, which was no longer Jewish religiously, to be sure, but remained the same historical entity, whose mem¬ bers continued to be recognized as such so long as their life in Christendom did not obliterate all the signs of their identity.

Here, then, in this transfer of hatred from thejews to the converts, lay the primary cause of the great struggle that evolved between the Old and New Christians in Spain, and with it the final outcome of the struggle

the

Spanish Inquisition. Yet to understand the meaning of that transfer, we must note that it was not a precise replacement of one hated object by another. Since the social and political demands of the conversos were much greater than those of thejews, and the possibilities of denying them much smaller

io44 ]

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(based as they were on the laws of Church and State), hatred for the Marranos was much stronger from the start, and its growth, which paralleled the Marranos’ attainments, proved to be likewise much faster. These observa¬ tions, we believe, suffice to indicate the upward curve of hatred toward the Marranos which began, as we have noted, at a high point. But to grasp more fully the evolution of this hatred, we must bear in mind its various stages, together with the major factors involved. These stages and factors were discussed in previous chapters. I shall now present them briefly together, so that we may get a summary view of the causes of the Inquisition. 1. The first factor to note is the rising influence of the Spanish cities since the reconquest of Toledo in 1085 and their ability to 'wrest from the Crown special laws that denied the converts a status of equality. These laws, to begin with, denied the converts the right to hold office in the urban domains

(1118)

and

fostered a tradition of discrimination against them, which came to be re¬ garded as legal and just. This tradition persisted and, in fact, remained dominant also after the middle of the 14th century, when certain civil and canon laws pronounced the converts equal to all other Christians, and it militated against the translation of these laws into realities of the cities’ social life. Even when the cities, under royal pressure, were formally forced to recognize these laws, their resistance to convert equality continued by means of a series of local measures, including sabotage and arbitrary segregation, accompanied by a vituperative campaign. It was only thanks to the pressures built up by the great influx of converts into Spanish Christendom (from

1367

on) that the converts broke through the walls of resistance and, aided by the kings, gained their first footholds in urban Old Christian societies. 2. Indubitably, the factor that first put much strain on the relations be¬ tween the Old Christians and the New was the growth of converso economic power. Though, unlike the Jewish, the converso economy was not centered on the two occupations (moneylending and tax farming) that always gave rise to numerous complaints, it nevertheless produced a variety of grievances for quite different reasons. As the converso economy expanded in many fields (such as commerce, the crafts, and the liberal professions), it involved more deeply many more sections of the Old Christian population. The points of contact between the Old and New Christians became, as a result, much more numerous, and this multiplied of course the points of friction and inevitably also economic strife. At the same time the conversos, as Christian citizens, were generally in a better position than the Jews to defend successfully their rights and interests, and thus they could gain, more frequently than the Jews, the upper hand in their economic struggles. Naturally, the defeats of the Old Christians in these contests increased the latter’s animus for the conversos; and therefore, much more than in the case of the Jews, economic clashes served to exacerbate the relations between the Old Christians and the New.

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3. Supplementing the growing economic competition was the political rivalry between the two groups, which formed another major source of hatred toward the New Christians in Spain. For various reasons the political problem was far more acute than the economic, and consequently also far more disturbing. We have seen that, after a long and bitter struggle, the cities succeeded in removing the Jews from their high positions in the central government, but they could not bar these positions to the converts, who kept invading them in increasing numbers. What is more, while locally the Jews functioned only as officials and agents of the Crown (primarily in the gather¬ ing of the revenues), the conversos occupied more and more posts in the cities’ administrations. Politically, therefore, the New Christians seemed to undermine the national standing of the urban oligarchies and, together with this, their prestige and influence in the cities’ populations. 4. Paralleling the growth of the conversos’ attainments in the fields of economy and politics was the rise of their general social standing on both the urban and national levels. In the cities, not few of their upper social classes formed segments of the urban elite, and nationally they became an integral part of the highest social and intellectual circles. Since the members of these circles belonged, for the most part, to the nobility and the clergy, the conversos were not slow to realize their hope of joining these estates them¬ selves. Thanks to their wealth, education and connections, some of them entered the hierarchy of the Church, while others married into families of great nobles and, many more, of the lower nobility. Nothing, however, could so hurt and aggravate the Old Christian plebeians of all strata as the emer¬ gence of a converso nobility. Resentful as they were of the conversos’ equal¬ ity as citizens of the urban domains, they doubly begrudged the latter’s place in a class that would elevate them above the mass of the people. But this social development aroused their opposition also for another reason. The rise of the conversos to the higher estates obviously had political implications. On the urban level, nobles of low rank had a stronger claim for positions of authority, and on the national level, nobles of high rank often determined the destinies of the nation. Viewing the conversos as dangerous competitors in the political arena, the urban elites would prefer to see none of them in any of the grades of the higher estates. 5. It was unfortunate for the conversos that the long-standing conflict between the Crown and the oligarchies of the Castilian cities over the latter’s share in the national administration came to a head at the time when the conversos were expanding their power both politically and economically. To secure his mastery over the cities’ governments, Kingjuan II inclined, as we have seen, to appoint more and more New Christians (whom he trusted) to key positions of the urban administrations and deny such positions to Old Christians of the cities (in whose loyalty he put little faith). Naturally, the

IO46]

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latter saw themselves threatened. Fearing that the alien minority was heading toward transforming its condition vis-a-vis the oligarchies from political rivals to political superiors, they came to believe that if the Crown had its way, the entire Old Christian urban population would come before long under the New Christians’ thumb. It was an ominous expectation that could provoke only rage and arouse the desire actively to resist the conversos’ expansion in all walks of life. 6. The opportunity for such active resistance came in the wake of the great rebellion that broke out in Toledo in 1449 and brought to the surface a new fount of hatred that had long been building up underground. We refer to the anti-Marrano bias which, from 1449 on, was promoted by a race theory that radically affected the character of the struggle. For according to that theory, all conversos by their nature were so malicious and criminally in¬ clined that they could not abide by the rules of societies based on moral principles. Least of all could they fit into the Christian society, whose moral¬ ity was taken to be the highest; and being, as they were, immoral by nature, they could not truly convert to Christianity, which is inseparable from its moral doctrines. From this point the racists moved straight to their conclu¬ sion that neither canon nor civil law could bar anti-converso legislation. Since these laws, which stipulated convert equality, were meant only for real converts, which the conversos could never become, they obviously did not apply to the Marranos; hence the racists would not override the laws of Church or state if they enacted harsh restrictions against them. Thus the way was opened for a violent campaign which stressed that the conversos had no right to public office and urged their elimination from Spanish society. 7. It would be hard to understand the rapid spread of racism and its enormous impact on the Spanish mind had it not emerged at the very time when the national sentiment was rising and stirring every vital part of the Spanish people. To be sure, in the middle of the 15th century, Spain’s national consciousness was still half awake and most of its objectives were still dimly perceived. Nevertheless, it was groping for national identity and the forma¬ tion of a single entity out of the various Spanish elements that showed inclination to unite. Lending their support to this general tendency, and pretending to speak on behalf of the whole nation, the racists signified the various groups which, in their judgment, were fit to join the union and indicated those which ought to be excluded. Spain was not the only country in Europe in which national galvanization produced a drive toward unifica¬ tion, along with demands for separation and exclusion; and the call of the racists to isolate the conversos—together with the Jews—from the national conglomerate fell on attentive ears. These seven causes of antagonism to the conversos became sources of new streams of hostility that flowed, like seven powerful tributaries, into the

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mainstream of animosity toward the Marranos, which was formed by the old, unmitigated hatred that in modern times became known as antisemitism. Violent waves of that gushing current, now vastly broadened and strength¬ ened, were relentlessly hitting the Marranos’ shores and yet could not make any deep inroads, because they were blocked by a dike. By the dike we mean the conversos’ Christianity and the powerful system of laws that sustained it and prevented a breakthrough. Things began to change radically, however, when in the middle of the 15th century the great current of Spain’s anti-Marranism was joined by another flow of hostility which burst forth at that time. We refer to the enmity produced by the campaign charging the conversos with a Judaic heresy—a charge hurled into the public domain with overwhelming force by the rebels of ’49. It must have occurred to some foes of the conversos, perhaps for some time before 1449, that a campaign based on such an accusation was likely to have a powerful effect, as it might deny the conversos their protec¬ tive shield—i.e., their Christian identity. But it was only during the Toledan rebellion that the idea found attentive ears. Looking for excuses that might justify the crimes they had perpetrated against the Toledan New Christians, the rebels thought it helpful to seize on the rumor that some conversos still practiced Jewish rites; and demonstrating unsurpassed insolence and readi¬ ness to go all the way with the employment of “big lies,” they labeled all conversos “heretics” and “Judaizers” who actively sought the destruction of Christendom. No doubt the rebels’ success in combining this wild accusation with their racist postulates contributed to their rapid acceptance. In any case, the accusation caught fire, steadily gaining both in following and in credence. Thus the conversos were now attacked from every angle: socially, economi¬ cally, politically, racially, morally, and religiously. But the religious charge i.e., that of heresy—was of special significance. It is hardly conceivable that without this charge the monastic orders would have joined in the attack, and it is certainly inconceivable that, without its wide dissemination, anyone could have proposed the establishment of the Inquisition.

CHAPTER II

Sidelights and Afterthoughts

I. Conceptions and Realities

D

id the conversos have a clear idea of the nature of the movement that rose against them? Did they understand its underlying causes and assess

correctly its inner force? It is hard to give positive answers to these questions. Obviously they gave much thought to the subject. But their situation was too complex, and too perplexing, for them to come up with the right explanation. And adding to these difficulties were their preconceived notions about their place, as Jewish converts, in the Christian world. These notions were long in the making; they were the product of their historical background, and there¬ fore deep-rooted and hardly eradicable. We ought to say a word on this subject if we wish to understand their state of mind. What must be first remarked in this connection can be summarized briefly as follows. For centuries the Jews, the conversos’ ancestors, believed that their unique sufferings among the nations stemmed from their unique reli¬ gious position—that is, their devotion to their Law, and that if they had agreed to abandon their religion, they would have escaped all persecution. This was also the position of the Church, which promoted, and kept stressing, the view that the discrimination against the Jews, and all their consequent miseries, resulted from their stubborn adherence to their faith, and therefore, once they were converted to Christianity, all discrimination against them would cease, and they could live happily ever after like all other Christians. Similarly, this was the belief of the New Christians, who inherited it from both their Jewish ancestors and the Church that had so persistently urged them to convert. It took them decades of living in Christendom—in fact, more than two generations—to realize that something was wrong with the 1048

SIDELIGHTS

AND

AFTERTHOUGHTS

[»°49

theory. For even when their conversion was complete, and religiously they saw themselves as Christian, they could notice that this was not at all the way they were seen by their fellow Christians. In fact, what they noticed was the very opposite of what they had ex¬ pected: the more their faith in Christianity deepened and the more they assimilated to Christian life, the more sinister and unfriendly became the attitude of the Old Christians—or rather of a growing body of Old Chris¬ tians—toward their entire group; and they could also see how that attitude was crystallized in ever more disturbing acts. Whereas in the beginning the Old Christians put stumbling blocks in the way of their possible advance¬ ment, later, when these means proved ineffective, their ill will turned into bitter hatred, implacable and aimed at their destruction. It was difficult for the New Christians to assume that the view that had been hammered into their minds by theirjewish forefathers, and confirmed with such emphasis by the Catholic Church, indeed by all its teachers, saints and lawmakers, was based on wrong assumptions or misconceptions. Nor could they believe that all their ancestors had misread the lessons of their own history or that the promises given them by the Church were insincere, or based on wishful thinking. The fact, however, remained that the conditions they were faced with were a far cry from the conceptions they grew up on. What then was happening in Spain’s Christian society? What was the cause of the growing animosity, the spreading vilification and the ominous wave of bloody persecution that was rising against them? Had they beenjews and faced such persecution, they would have related their troubles to their faith in Judaism. But the conversos were not Jews; they were Christians, and could not avail themselves of such an explanation. The only answer they could offer to these questions which would be in accord with their basic conceptions was that they faced an anomalous development, a deviation from Christianity caused by evil men, who were jealous of their achievements. We have seen that jealously was indeed there, that it triggered and fueled the attack on the conversos; but we have also seen that underlying that jealousy was the Jewishness of the Marranos which was well recognized their identity as members of a different people rather than devotees of a different religion. This wow-religious Jewishness, as we have seen, kept them distinct, apart and disliked, and it was this dislike of the people as such that assumed the form of race hatred. The Marranos, who were trying to explain the phenomenon, and rightly denounced it as a deviation from Christianity, could not possibly see its deeper causes, and if they could, it would have shattered their whole outlook and the framework of the world in which they lived. Since they failed to understand the causes of their condition, they could not comprehend the chain reaction against them which developed before

1

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ORIGINS

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their very eyes, nor could they discern the links of that chain or the relation¬ ships among them. Cardinal Torquemada was perhaps the only New Chris¬ tian who understood that the attack on the conversos in 1449 was not a freakish, disconnected happening, but one that was deeply rooted in the past and inseparably linked to the hatred of the Jews, which had stirred the gentile world since antiquity. Most conversos, however, believed that the bitter animosity with which they were confronted sprang solely from socialeconomic motives. There was truth in this as we have seen, but not the whole truth. For behind the social-economic factor there was the racial, and behind the racial the national. That the conversos did not see in the assaults upon them an expression of a national will is not surprising. Although they recognized the existence of ‘nations” in the “natural” sense, and even regarded themselves as constitut¬ ing one, they did not view nationalism, unless conceived politically (that is, as a state organization), as an actual cause of hostility between groups. To be sure, some of their Old Christian foes claimed that they spoke in behalf of the whole “nation”—or rather in behalf of the state, or the Republic, which comprised several peoples, or “nations,” in the natural historic sense; and we have also seen that they excluded the conversos from that national collec¬ tivity. But the conversos could see no ground for that exclusion, which they considered arbitrary and absurd. They rejected the two reasons offered by their enemies—their “religious insincerity” and “racial inferiority”—as ma¬ licious accusations, fundamentally false, and they did not take seriously the claim of their foes that they spoke for the Republic and for most Old Christians.1 1 hey found it hard to believe that the party of their enemies would ever comprise the majority of the people, and we cannot regard this assessment as groundless when we bear in mind that even in the middle of the seventies—that is, several years before the founding of the Inquisition— the Old Christians of Spain were sharply divided on the attitude to be taken toward the Marranos.2 What is more, the Marranos categorically denied that any faction, or even all factions combined, had the right to speak on behalf of the people. This right, they maintained, belonged only to the king or to his appointed spokesmen; and the king, they were sure, despite contrary pres¬ sures, was ultimately bound to take their side. To take an opposite view and agree that the people was entitled to speak in its own behalf would require a stage of political development from which Castile as a whole was still far at the time, despite the stirrings of national consciousness that was groping for emergence and self-assertion. I hat the Marranos did not feel these stirrings, or failed to interpret them correctly, may be taken for granted. But the kings indubitably felt them keenly, and although they, too, may have missed their true meaning, they realized what the Marranos did not—namely, that they were faced with an

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elemental force which was most difficult to suppress and most dangerous to ignore. To be sure, from the standpoint of Spain’s political direction, the Marranos judged correctly when they emphasized and upheld the overall superiority of the king. In this they clung to a political principle which was cultivated in Castile throughout the century and served as basis for the absolutist regime that was to be erected within the coming decades. But from the standpoint of their own interests, they committed a grave error when they relied on that royal superiority as a factor that would ensure their safety and their rights. Their error lay in their failure to understand that for the king to attain absolute power, it was necessary first to gain the people’s sympathy by various concessions which were to serve as “baits.” Still less did it occur to them that they, the conversos, would be first—and indeed the main— “bait” to be sacrificed by the kings to achieve that end.

II. The Racial Substitute If the genocidal solution to the converso question may serve as an index to the boundless hatred that filled the thinking of the Spanish racists, the rise of the theory about the conversos’ vile stock indicates that the claim of their secretjudaism could not at the time serve as valid reason for prohibiting their occupation of offices and their intermarriage with Old Christians. Obviously, if the public could have been easily convinced that most of the Marranos were secret Jews (i.e., heretics), this fact alone would have been quite suffi¬ cient to justify the above prohibitions, and there would have been no need to go to the length of inventing such bizarre and outlandish theories as those of “blood contamination” (to block intermarriage) and the “conspiracy to capture the government” (to block converso bureaucratic expansion). It was the very life of the conversos as Christians, and the difficulty of finding fault with their Christianity, that prevented the use of the heresy argument as sufficient basis for the desired sanctions and forced their opponents to look for excuses that might appear more acceptable. In fact, if there was any need for further proof that the great majority of the conversos were Christian, it was the emergence of the race theory against them at that particular time. Never had such an anti-Jewish theory been anywhere espoused in the Middle Ages, evidently because there was no need for one; the Judaism of the Jews—their religious beliefs—was to the Christians reason enough to molest them and limit their rights. Racism as a theory, however, reappeared in full force with the rise of antisemitism in the 19th century. It is necessary to note this development and compare it to its medieval counterpart in order to understand more fully what happened in iyth century Spain. The external similarities are easily observable. In both cases the campaign focused on denigrating and vilifying the Jewish racein both the theme was stressed that the members of this race were conspiring to exploit, socially and economically, the majority of the nation in which they lived; in both we hear of their secret endeavors to take over the vital positions of government and thereby control the nation’s destinies; in both the charge was raised that intercourse with Jews will “pollute” and corrupt the nation’s “pure” blood; and in both the final solutions preferred were expulsion and mass extermina¬ tion. Elements of this theory appeared in the 19th century in several Euro¬ pean countries (including France), but they first appeared in Germany, where they had their strongest impact. German racism arose at the beginning of the 19th century and was trig¬ gered by causes similar to those that brought it to the fore in Spain. In Spain it was the legal and factual equalization of the converts from Judaism with

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the Old Christians. In Germany it was the drive toward social equalization of the Jewish minority with the Christian Germans, aided by waves of conversion to Christianity by Jews who despaired of attaining that goal. There appeared what was known as the “plague of conversion”; and the converts, making use of their rights and freedoms, invaded certain spheres of German culture and society, while many of them intermarried with Ger¬ mans. The racist movement arose in response to both processes, long before the world heard the word Nazism. Throughout the first half of the 19th century the drive to equalize the Jews of Germany with the Germans continued nevertheless with undiminished vigor, and in parallel there continued (with no less fervor) the drive against their equalization. Unlike earlier anti-Jewish campaigns, that of the Germans in the 19th century relied less and less on religious arguments and more and more on racial reasons, as well as other considerations related to the nation’s social and economic interests. Toward the end of the century, when the Jews of Germany, who had been emancipated since i860, were rapidly making their presence felt in many vital areas of the nation’s life, the racial arguments became increasingly dominant in the ever growing agitation against them. At the same time, the religious argument reached a low point in both frequency and influence. Thus, in Germany as in Spain four centuries earlier, racial theory largely replaced religious doctrine in justifying discrimination against the Jews and, quite evidently, for the same reason. In both countries religion no longer sustained impassable divisions between groups. In Spain it stopped fulfilling this function because of the Jews’ Christianization; in Germany, because of the general decline of religious influence in the country. Though the causes differed, the result was the same. Hence in both nations, which were fiercely antisemitic, another obstacle had to be raised to the expansion of the Jews in social fields and to their intermarriage with the majority. One may find enough reasons to suppose that if the Spanish racists had come to power, the fate of the Marranos would not have differed greatly from that of the Jews of Europe under Hitler. But Spanish racism did not come to power; the instruments of the state were not at its command; and the state permitted persecution of the Marranos only through the Inquisition. Could the Inquisition carry out the plans that the racial movement conceived for the conversos? If some of its members were skeptical from the start, most of them believed that the Inquisition would realize the hope they entertained with respect to the conversos. Said Bernaldez, one of their spokesmen: “Once the fire has been ignited, it will be necessary for it to go on burning until all the Judaizers are consumed and dead, and none of them remains. 1 Bernaldez left no room for doubt as to what he meant by this prognostica¬ tion. For the Inquisition, he tells us, has learned from the “confessions of the

105 4 ]

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Sevillian Marranos and those in other places that not only in Seville, but also in Cordova, Toledo, Burgos, Valencia, Segovia, and the whole of Spain, “all of them were Jews.” And thus it “was made clear and confessed that the whole race (linage) was defamed (infamado) and infected with this infirmity” (i.e., the heresy ofjudaism).2 It is obvious, therefore, that when Bernaldez said that all the Judaizers would have to be “consumed,” he had in mind all conversos.

III. The Parallel Drive There can be little doubt that this statement of Bernaldez reflected not only the sentiments of most racists but also their conviction that the Inquisi¬ tion was heading toward the extermination of the Marrano group. By the turn of the eighties, however, when Bernaldez made that statement, there were also many racists who, while hailing the Inquisition, were displeased with its progress and consequently skeptical about Bernaldez’ forecast. They were evidently dissatisfied with the pace of its proceedings, which resulted, from their standpoint, in too few condemnations, and also disturbed by its failure to reduce the legal status of the converso community. Faithful to their principle which called for the exclusion of all conversos from the ranks of the Old Christians, they thought that the Inquisition had provided ample grounds, judicial and propagandistic, for such exclusion and, consequently, for the issuance of laws and regulations forbidding all conversos to take part in any function that might affect the fortunes of the Old Christians. Inevita¬ bly, they were baffled by the policy of the kings, which left all Marranos who had not been proved guilty (let alone accused) of heresy by the Inquisition all their rights, possessions, offices, and honors; and they were especially dismayed by the sight of New Christians in the highest offices of the royal administration. Thus, to these racists some aspects of the regime were not only puzzling and disconcerting; they were clearly pernicious and intoler¬ able. They would not dare openly criticize the Kings, who were viewed by one and all as above reproach, but they would not leave matters where they stood either. They thought they could outflank the royal policy by inducing Church organizations which were subject, at least formally, not to royal, but to ecclesiastic control, to enact statutes forbidding all conversos, solely on racial grounds, to join them and assume any position in their midst. If many such organizations adopted the same principles, the government, they as¬ sumed, would have to follow suit. Thus, they thought, they could establish from below—i.e., through the Spanish people itself—a regime of anticonverso discrimination which the Kings had failed to impose from above. This was the basic idea or plan that inspired the racial movement under the Inquisition and formed, in the 1480s, that relentless drive which, after a century of agitation, covered Spain with a network of organizations commit¬ ted to the limpieza principle and urging its institution in all the spheres of Spanish life. In that general plan lay the basic difference between the new limpieza thrust of the eighties and the earlier attempts to excommunicate the conversos through similar organizational enactments. T he earlier attempts,

ioj6 ]

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such as those made in Toledo (by many “fraternities, chapters and Hermandades”), against which Carrillo took action in his synod (1481),1 were spon¬ taneous demonstrations of popular dissatisfaction with the government’s toleration of converso equality; they were also expressions of the strong desire felt by racist groups in various places to do away with that equality in their own circles. It is hard to detect in their activities, however, any planned drive on a national scale, of the kind we can notice in the ideas of the racists who campaigned under the Inquisition. It need hardly be said that the proponents of these ideas did not belong to one organized body, acting on the instructions of its governing authorities. What united them were the views they inherited from their forerunners (i.e., the authors of their racist theory), their common reactions to major develop¬ ments bearing directly on the Marrano situation, and their common temper as political critics anxious to take some independent action. Dispersed as they were in various places, they were moved by those affinities to meet or correspond, and finally agree on a general plan. Before long, cells of activists were formed in many ecclesiastical associations across the country with the aim of inducing the majority of their members to enact anti-converso stat¬ utes. If we judge by the results, a good number of those activists must have been persuasive speakers and able organizers, although few of their names were transmitted to posterity. On the other hand, we know the names of many of the organizations that joined the racist drive in the course of time. Of these organizations, it was the Hieronymite Order that gave the limpieza movement the strongest push and put it on Spain’s national agenda. The part played by this Order in that evolution has been discerned by a number of scholars,2 but several aspects and phases of its activity still require exploration. From various indications in the sources, it appears that the adoption of the limpieza principle by the Order was carefully prepared by a group of racist friars who were led by one Gonzalo de Toro, prior of the monastery of Montamarta. It was doubtless especially to the members of this group that Sigiienza, the historian of the Order, referred when he spoke of the friars who watched prudently, “like serpents,” the behavior of the “enemy” (i.e., the “heretical” Judaizers) in order to strike him at the proper opportunity.3 The opportunity came when the persecution of the Inquisition moved many young conversos to seek admission to the Order in the hope of finding safety in monastic life. Apparently, most of those who took this step chose the Hieronymite Order because it was believed (since the days of Oropesa) to be friendly toward the New Christians. The Hieronymite racists, however, who had always looked askance at the presence of converso friars among them, and especially at those who held positions of authority, were naturally alarmed by the influx of conversos, who might, they feared, upset the Old

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Christians’ superiority in the Order’s membership and leadership. Under their influence, some Old Christian friars, though far from sharing their racial approach, came nevertheless to accept their view that the newcomers’ sole aim in joining the Order was to avoid the Inquisition’s inquiries and judg¬ ments.4 Thus, together with the racists, they urged the Order’s authorities to refrain from accepting more New Christians to their ranks, but apparently without success. Some proof of their claims, it was realized, was needed for the Order to follow their counsel. But where could such proof be obtained? Under these circumstances, it stands to reason, the racists turned secretly to the Inquisition, called its attention to what was happening in the Order (its admission of conversos fleeing the judgment of the Inquisition and the refusal of the Order’s authorities to take counter-measures), and asked its active intervention. Before long the Inquisition took several actions which gave the racists the excuse they needed to introduce their racial policy into the Order. The precise scheme then worked out by the Inquisition in collusion with the racist friars of the Order will probably remain unknown. But that such a collusion existed is indubitable, and it is indicated, to begin with, by the Inquisition’s attempt to induce the General of the Hieronymites, fray Rodrigo de Orense, to exchange his position as General of the Order with that of Inquisitor of Toledo.5 Rodrigo was an inert, reserved man who neither by his views nor by his temper fitted the task of Inquisitor,6 and the offer was no doubt intended merely to remove him from his office as General, so that he could not interfere with plans which the Hieronymite racists had con¬ trived. Rodrigo, however, refused the offer, and it was probably for this reason that the Inquisition assailed the converso friars in the Order the way it did. Rather than proceeding against them directly, it thought it wiser to proceed against the community of New Christians clustering around the monastery of Guadalupe (one of the chief Hieronymite convents), with the aim of entangling the converso friars of that convent in its inquiries against the lay New Christians. This was, in fact, the plan that the Inquisition followed. It erected a “temporary tribunal” in Guadalupe, and appointed as Inquisitor the prior of the convent, Fray Nuno de Arevalo,7 who must have been known as a fierce enemy of the conversos and as an impetuous racist. The Inquisition attacked the small community of Guadalupe with a ven¬ geance rarely evinced in other places. Besides many who were sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, to the galleys, or to penance for life, fifty-two Judaizers were burned alive, together with the bones of forty-eight dead and twenty-five effigies of fugitive conversos which were consumed in seven autos within one year.8 Held before the gates of the convent, these autos served as an accusing finger at its friars, who could not be believed to have seen or heard nothing of the rampant heresy that was raging about them. The large number of sentences (perhaps more than two hundred) rendered in

1 °58 ]

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such a short time showed how little evidence the tribunal needed to pro¬ nounce its harsh judgments against the New Christians; and indeed its performance, which virtually wiped out the whole converso community of Guadalupe, resembled more a massacre or a series of executions, carried out rapidly by enemy court-martials, than punitive actions decided on and or¬ dered by a conscientious court of law. It is evident that only a racist Inquisi¬ tor, eager to destroy all conversos root and branch, could carry out such a murderous campaign. As expected, his inquiries into the conduct of the townsmen soon involved some friars of his own convent, who were likewise found to have been Judaizers and accordingly sentenced to be burned at the stake.9 The racists made much of these condemnations, seeking to shame the Order to the point that it would be compelled to accept their plan. And it was no doubt also for this very purpose that the spotlights of their propaganda were focused on a friar (a member of the same monastery of Guadalupe) who was “discovered” never to have been baptized, although he had lived in the convent for forty years.10 Obviously, they wanted to present his case not as a bizarre, anomalous exception, but as a model of the “scandalous things” that take place in the Order’s ranks. We do not know what truth that “discovery” contained and what were its factual grounds. The account of this case has not reached us, and in the atmosphere of terror that gripped the Order, false testimonies abounded also among monks who were non-racist in their views and dispositions, or even New Christian.11 Nor do we know whether the condemned friars of Guada¬ lupe were veterans or newcomers to the Order. The racists could have implicated converts of both types by giving false testimony against any of them—especially since their testimonies remained secret. But regardless of how we evaluate those judgments, they were generally held to be above question; as such they provided ample ground for the racists to stir up the Order by a violent campaign on behalf of their racial program. The Twenty-third Conference of the Spanish Hieronymites, which met in April i486, stood entirely under the impact of that campaign, which was conducted by Gonzalo de Toro. He now emerged as a leading figure of a stature befitting a General of the Order, and under his and his fellow racists’ pressure, the Order adopted three resolutions that show the decisive influ¬ ence of the racists, although they preserve some traces of the opposition they had encountered in advancing their proposals. Thus, the first resolution calls upon the Order to establish an Inquisition of the “heretical depravity” in all the monasteries of the Order; the second commands the Order to avoid the acceptance of New Christians into its ranks “so long as the Inquisition operates in these Kingdoms” and the expurgation of heresy is under way.12 The third goes much further: it empowers the prior of the Convent of Guadalupe, the one who so distinguished himself as Inquisitor, to appeal to

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the Pope (Innocent VIII) that he forbid forever the acceptance of New Christians to all the monasteries of the Order, and especially to his own convent (where Judaizers had been found),13 and explicitly disqualify them as holders of offices such as priors, vicars, confessors, and the like.14 An edict by the Pope to this effect, it was believed, would not only establish the limpieza policy in the Order, but also pave the way for the introduction of that policy into many other Church organizations. Yet this was not all that this conference resolved. For practical purposes on the internal level, perhaps the most important decision made was to appoint the racist leader, Gonzalo de Toro, as the first of the two Hieronymite Inquisitors whose task was to uncover the lurking heresy in the Order and take care of its extirpation.15 We have already indicated that these resolutions were probably not passed by unanimous consent and that traces of opposition to more extreme propos¬ als can be detected in the resolutions themselves. It is evident, however, that the opposition was weak and could not halt or change the current of opinion that dominated the April convention. One reason for this weakness was the absence from that gathering of Garda de Madrid, a courageous and astute converso friar who commanded special influence on the Hieronymite au¬ thorities. When Garda heard of the Order’s decisions, he sprang to action to have them revoked. As a close friend and confidant of Rodrigo de Orense, it was not difficult for him to convince the General of both the religious and political errors he committed by lending his support to Gonzalo and the proposals of his party. Religiously, he pointed out, the resolutions adopted conflict with the decrees of Pope Nicholas V (in his bull Humani generis of 1449) and the Synod of Alcala in 1481, both of which forbade, under pain of excommunication, any differentiation between Old and New Christians; and politically they came to serve the interests of the racists, and especially of their leader, Gonzalo de Toro, who intended to prevent, by his rising influ¬ ence, the reelection of Rodrigo as General of the Order and instead secure his own election to that office.16 Convinced that he had been misled and abused, Rodrigo who had generally been a modest man and reluctant to shoulder any public responsibility, was now filled with a fervid desire to defeat the racist party and stop its leader. He issued orders to all the priors of the order that they disregard the statute adopted at the last conference and obey the bull of Nicholas V.17 The prior of the Convent of Guadalupe (to whose services as Inquisitor we have referred above) and that of the Convent of Sisla in Toledo (another major monastery of the Hieronymites) refused to accept the General’s judgment and replied that the decisions were well taken, claiming that since they expressed the Order’s will, they could not possibly contradict the will of the Pope. The General’s reaction was unequivocal. He decided to excommunicate both priors, cancel their membership in the Private Chapter, which was charged with the election of the General, and

1060 ]

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appoint two other friars in their stead.18 He also sent to Rome two Burgensian conversos for the purpose of obtaining a bull from the Pope securing his reelection as General for three additional years. And “not satisfied with all this,” Sigiienza tells us, “he went to Guadalajara to consult converso jurists about the legal aspects of the controversy;” then he “proceeded to the Royal Court to gain the favor of the Catholic Kings, as well as the support of Cardinal Mendoza and other prelates and great nobles, informing them of what was occurring in the Order and presenting the position taken by his opponents as abhorred and prohibited by our laws.”19 The conflict now became a national scandal, while the order split into two factions that de¬ nounced each other vehemently and sought each other’s ruin. On August 26 of the same year (i486) the private chapter met in the Convent of San Bartolome to elect a General for the following three years. As prior of the Convent of Montamarta, Gonzalo de Toro, and his two chief supporters, the priors of Guadalupe and Sisla, came to the crucial gathering; but shortly thereafter, and only three hours before the expiration of his term of office, Rodrigo, relying on the bull of Nicolas V, disqualified their mem¬ bership in the elective body and appointed others to replace them. Gonzalo, however, was prepared for this. He had gotten in touch with the bishop of Palencia, who was one of the executors of Pope Nicolas’ bull, and obtained absolution from excommunication.20 He and his friends therefore could participate in the meeting and exercise their full influence on the voters. Both sides strained all their efforts, Rodrigo benefiting from the open support given him by the cardinal of Spain (Mendoza) and the Duke of the Infantado. The Kings, however, instructed the two magnates to stay away from the election process, which they viewed as an internal affair of the Order, and both the Cardinal and the Duke complied.21 But the Kings’ order worked against the conversos, as it soon became evident that the majority of the delegates favored the racists’ side. Gonzalo was elected as the new General, and the question touching the previous resolutions was not placed on the agenda.22 Nevertheless, it could not be shelved. For while the Kings refused to interfere in the election, they took a clear stand on the issue of the limpieza statute. In letters they sent to the Order’s definitors, they strongly urged the revocation of the statute “until the arrival of the proper time to settle this matter.”23 They also sent their chaplain Diego de Daza to represent them before the Hieronymite leaders and see to it that their will be done.24 In consequence, Gonzalo saw himself compelled to present the Kings’ letter to the Conference, and a long discussion ensued. Some of the attendants, oppos¬ ing revocation, suggested that a delegation should be sent to the Kings in order to inform them fully of their reasons for seeking to keep the statute in force, but this, as well as other suggestions, could not offset the royal appeal

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and Daza’s strong arguments. “So forcefully did Daza present the disgust which the kings would feel if their request were denied,” says Sigiienza, that the Hieronymites had no choice but to yield. Above all, Gonzalo realized that Ferdinand was determined to have the statute revoked, and he did not wish to start his career as General with a dispute that would spoil the friendly relations that had hitherto existed between the Crown and the Order. He therefore saw to it that the conference resolve to inform all the institutions of the Order that the statute must be considered revoked. It stressed that the reason for the new resolution was neither fear of excommunication (which was allegedly threatened by Pope Nicolas’ bull) nor a change of view on the issues involved, but solely consideration of the Kings’ wishes and the Order’s desire to be of service to the Kings. It explained that what moved the Kings to “request very insistently” and, in fact, “order the revocation of the Statute” both by means of their letters and their chaplain, was "their fear that if the statute remained in force, many churches and cities would like to follow suit"—namely, enact similar statutes for their members or citizens.25 The cited words, which have been ignored by all the scholars who have dealt with this development, represent the crux of the problem Ferdinand had to cope with when he was confronted with the Hieronymite plan; and they also reveal a major element of his policy toward the conversos. What he wanted was (a) to have the Inquisition, which he guided, serve as the sole agency for “punishing” the conversos, and (b) to let the conversos who were not punished by the Inquisition proceed with their usual businesses and occupations, and thereby contribute to Spain’s economy. In any case, he was categorically opposed to the development of another anti-converso drive supplementing the Inquisitional activity. Insofar as the persecution of the conversos was concerned, he intended to be its only determinant and to let no other factor interfere in its regulation. Ferdinand, however, could not fail to realize that in openly taking a stand against the racists, he was treading on shaky ground. He did not wish to appear as defender of the conversos, which would spoil his image as their oppressor and persecutor—the image he had acquired through his sponsor¬ ship of the Inquisition—and preferred to avoid direct action against the racists when they enacted their limpieza statutes. This, however, was not possible in the present case. The issuance of a racial decree against the conversos by a large religious order like the Hieronymites’ was clearly different from a similar ruling adopted by a college or a small fraternity. Such an enactment could have far-reaching consequences that might affect ad¬ versely the economic situation, and therefore he thought that he should intervene. Thus, we have here the first confrontation between the monarchy and the racists on the issue of the limpieza, whose application the racists wanted to expand despite monarchic disagreement.

1062]

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If Ferdinand believed that by the results of that encounter he averted a threat to his dual policy, he evidently did not duly consider the nature of the man who led the other side. Gonzalo de Toro was a harsh and ruthless person, obstinate and cunning, and not in the habit of accepting defeat.26 Nor did he intend to give King Ferdinand the last word on the conversos in his Order—a matter that was to him of utmost significance and aroused his fiercest passions. The revocation of the decision excluding the conversos from the Order’s offices and from admission to its ranks did not abolish the resolution to establish an inquisition, which was to cleanse the Order of its “hidden heretics.” Gonzalo now intended to use that resolution as a steppingstone for his new plan. He resigned the position of Inquisitor he had assumed in the preceding conference of the Order, leaving for himself only the task of “inquiring” into the wholesomeness of the Convent of San Bartolome, which was one of the chief monasteries of the Hieronymites and the seat of their new General. He appointed a larger inquisitional tribunal which was to take care of the Order as a whole, and reserved for himself the right to join it in cases necessitating his interference.27 Soon a violent persecution was launched against all converso friars in the order. According to Sigiienza, “some were burned at the quemaderos, others were sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, while others were denied the exercise of any function.”28 No doubt Gonzalo attempted to prove that the racists’ charges of a Judaic heresy lingering in his Order were no invention and, therefore, the limpieza statute was a necessity and ought not to have been revoked. Perhaps on the assumption that he had proven his case, Gonzalo finally gathered courage to make a dangerous move. In 1491 he appealed secretly to the Pope to issue a bull approving his limpieza policy.29 But Innocent VIII could not see his way clear to give a positive answer, and when he died (in July 1492), he left Gonzalo’s appeal to his successor, Alexander VI. The latter dilly-dallied a long time, his generally unfriendly relations with King Ferdi¬ nand no doubt causing him repeated hesitations; but at last, in December 1495, he issued his brief Intelleximus non animi, which responded favorably to Gonzalo’s request. As long as the Inquisition functions, the Pope stated, no descendant of conversos to the fourth generation shall be admitted to the order, save by special consent of the General and the Private Chapter; nor will any converso friar be appointed to any of the order’s offices, under pain of excommunication. Gonzalo knew that Ferdinand would not take up the cudgels for the conversos against a papal decree. And indeed Ferdinand did not. But the failure of the monarch to act at that point meant only that he was biding his time. Meanwhile, however, the order had its effect, and so did the procedures followed by the Hieronymites who carried it out. It was probably in response to the growing demands that the kings sanction new appeals for limpieza that

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they issued in September 1500 two laws demonstrating their approval of the racial principle in treating persons sentenced by the Inquisition. According to these laws, both all “reconciled” and all descendants of people condemned by the Inquisition were denied the right to any public office or the exercise of any public function.30 The professions they were forbidden to practice included those of surgeons, physicians, druggists, escribanos and notaries— professions that were originally permitted to penitents who were not even reconciled. Nevertheless, though they went to these extremes in restricting the offspring of convicted Judaizers, the kings did not limit to any extent the rights or activities of other conversos. Indeed, as far as this group was concerned—the group which was the chief target of the racists—the kings stuck to their guns. In August 1503 Alexander VI died, and Julius II replaced him as pope. This was the opportunity Ferdinand was waiting for. Julius II was known to have hated Alexander VI and opposed almost everything he did or stood for. It was no surprise, therefore, that shortly after his enthronement, Julius II issued a bull which sharply denounced the limpieza practice and decreed its total abolition. In this bull he said that information had reached him that “in Spain and other places, the [Christian] descendants of the Jews and other non¬ believers were not admitted to religious Orders, fraternities and other Chris¬ tian congregations, religious or secular.” He condemned these acts as sheer manifestations of “detestable customs and real corruption” and declared “null and void all the rules, regulations, constitutions, and laws, etc., which were enacted for this purpose, including those confirmed by the Papal See.”31 This bull, directed at Spain (though formally it referred to other countries, too), would not have been issued without Ferdinand’s consent and secret collaboration. It dealt a harsh blow to the limpieza movement and its interfer¬ ence with Ferdinand’s policies. For the following ten years, until the end of Julius’ reign—and, in fact, to the end of Ferdinand’s lifetime—we hear of virtually no new enactments of limpieza statutes in Spain.32 It was only after Ferdinand’s death (in January 1516) that Spanish racism again raised its head. In 1519 the Major College of Ildefonso adopted an extreme limpieza statute,33 and in 1522 the Inquisition forbade the universities of Salamanca, Valladolid and Toledo to confer degrees upon New Christians.34 From then on the limpieza movement progressed, despite the numerous obstacles it encoun¬ tered, until it dominated all Spanish ecclesiastical organizations—and, through them, also a major part of Spain’s public opinion.

IV. The Unchanged Goal Since the drive of the limpieza spanned more than three centuries—that is, the whole period of the Inquisition, the conversos were attacked through most of that period by two instruments of persecution—the Inquisition and the race movement. In the foregoing we have touched on the immediate reasons for the rise of that movement in the middle of the fifteenth century and noticed the principles of Spanish racism in the early stages of the Inquisition. We would now like to determine whether the same principles propelled the racist drive in later times, too, or whether they were signifi¬ cantly altered or replaced by other guidelines. This would help us assess the influence of the original motives of Spanish racism—the motives that more than any other factor were responsible for the birth of the Spanish Inquisi¬ tion. To arrive at such a determination it is necessary to compare the racist literature in its early stages with its manifestations in later times. For our present purpose, however, we may limit our examination to one particular phase of that literature—the one associated with the racist campaign in the middle of the 16th century—that is, a century after Spanish racism had proclaimed its beliefs and plan of action. The foremost representative of the mid-i6th-century phase was Cardinal Juan Martinez Pedernales, better known as Siliceo, who was archbishop of Toledo from 1546. The cardinal was a man of peasant stock who inherited from his ancestors their hatred of the Jews and their prejudices against the conversos. By the time he appeared on the scene with his ideas, the limpieza movement had already gained much ground. All of Spain’s military orders, most of its religious orders, and nearly all its major colleges and universities had by then been closed to New Christians. The only group of ecclesiastical organizations still generally open to them were the churches, and many young New Christians, who sought a Church career, tried to become priests or other Church ministrants of both higher and lower ranks. Now Siliceo tried to bar the conversos from these institutions, too. Thus, after becoming archbishop, he had the cathedral chapter of Toledo adopt an extreme lim¬ pieza statute which excluded from the church all its converso functionaries, including many canons and well-known theologians. But the statute required papal confirmation, and Paul III was disinclined to sanction the racial policy in the Church’s institutions. Siliceo, to be sure, finally induced the pope to act favorably on his appeal. But the opposition put up by the conversos to his plan brought the case before the Royal Council, and Siliceo found himself again compelled to defend his propositions. Accordingly, he composed sev-

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eral memoranda in support of his position, and these are our best sources of information about the views and aspirations of the racist movement at the time.1 A curious documentation bearing on our subject, which has been made public by various authors, ought to be considered at this point. It consists of an alleged exchange of letters between the heads of the Jews of Spain and those of Constantinople that supposedly took place on the eve of the expul¬ sion of Spanish Jewry in 1492. In this correspondence the leader of Spain’s Jews asks his Eastern counterpart to give him advice on how his community should conduct itself in the face of its current difficulties. The king of Spain, he says in his letter, has ordered them to convert or leave the country, and, in addition, the king destroys their synagogues, kills many of their members, robs them of their property, and subjects them to numerous intolerable vexations.2 In response, the head of the Jews of Constantinople offers Spain’s Jews the considered opinion of the “great satraps and rabbis” of the Jews of the East. According to that opinion, Spain’s Jews would do well to meet the assaults of the “Spanish King and the Christians” upon their lives, possessions, free¬ doms and religion in the following manner. They should train their sons as merchants and financiers so that they may strip the Christians of their wealth; they should equip them with the skills of government officials so that they may subjugate the Christians and oppress them; they should educate them in the disciplines of the priesthood so that, as priests, they may destroy the Christian temples; and they should teach them the arts of medicine and surgery so that they may freely kill Christian patients. By so acting they will “avenge” themselves on the Christians “for what they have done and intend to do” to them. Yet they would be able to accomplish all this only if the Christians come to view them as their own—namely, if they convert to Christianity. Indeed, they should be converted in any case, since they are given no choice in the matter; but this conversion should of course be feigned. They should “baptize their bodies” but not their souls, which should continue steadfast in their faithfulness to the Law.3 Thus, false conversion was the fifth measure that the Jews of Constantinople urged Spain’s Jews to take. Anyone who believed that the other four counsels (in business, offi¬ cialdom, medicine and priesthood) were given to the Jews of Spain would have no difficulty in believing that the fifth counsel was advanced as well. Siliceo claimed to have found copies of this correspondence in the ar¬ chives of the Toledan church and submitted them to the pope as authentic documents.4 These documents, we are told, convinced the pope of the “malice and evil” of the conversos, and in contrast to his previous stand, he responded favorably to the archbishop’s request concerning the statute he had enacted in Toledo.5 The correspondence, however, offers no evidence

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that Spain’s Jews had followed their brethren’s counsel; nor do we have direct evidence that Siliceo claimed that they did. To be sure, his petition to the pope is not extant, but in the memoranda he addressed to the king, he asserted that the conversos were wreaking death and destruction upon all classes of the Old Christian population—and thus actually implementing the plan proposed by the Jews of Constantinople.6 What the “correspondence” added to these assertions was the allegedly “inside” information which shows that this destructive activity had been planned by the leadership of world Jewry as an act of vengeance against the Christians. Consequently, there can be no doubt as to the function the aforesaid letters were designed to fulfill in Siliceo’s campaign. That the letters were apocryphal hardly needs proof, and it is not at all impossible that it was Siliceo (or one of his aides) who perpetrated the fabrication.7 But this is really of secondary importance. What is truly signifi¬ cant, and historically illuminating, is that a cardinal of the Church could present such myths and such preposterous charges to both pope and emperor in a formal exposition of the conversos’ “crimes.” Nothing represents more striking evidence of the depth of the anti-converso bias that dominated Spain’s public opinion. But what is even more meaningful for assessing that bias is the particular sphere of human interests on which the above corre¬ spondence dwells. By the time Siliceo began his campaign, no converso served as bishop, archbishop, or cardinal8; nor, with rare exceptions, could conversos be found in high posts of the royal administration, such as those of royal councillors, major judges, governors, or corregidores. The absence of common educational prerequisites (such as graduation from a major college), coupled with the pressure of the racialist movement, had led the kings to abstain from appoint¬ ing or even nominating conversos for such high posts. By then they also avoided interference in the management of all or most Church organizations against dominant anti-converso trends.9 But they would still not permit the removal of conversos from their major sources of livelihood. Thus, in the middle of the 16th century, we find conversos still engaged in their main traditional occupations (commerce, tax farming and banking), as well as in the free professions (law and medicine) and the public offices in the cities (as judges, regidores, deputies and escribanos).10 The presence of conversos in these professions and occupations aroused the antagonism of the Old Chris¬ tian burghers as had their presence in the higher royal offices. It is not surprising, therefore, that in the middle of the 16th century, when the churches (the last converso strongholds in the ecclesiastic system) were about to fall into the racists’ hands, the latter launched their strongest attacks on the remaining social and economic positions still held by the conversos. The apocryphal letter of thejews of Constantinople directs the racist fire

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at these positions and shows that, as in the middle of the fifteenth century, so a hundred years later, the main interest of the racists in attacking the conversos was social and economic rather than religious. The fierce denun¬ ciations of the Jewish merchants and physicians which we find in that “letter” spearheaded a broader attack on the conversos in the fields of finance, city administration, and the liberal professions. Indeed, in his appeals to the Royal Council, Siliceo lashes out against converso participation in all those occupa¬ tions, thereby indicating clearly what was meant by the charges included in the “letter from Constantinople.” To be sure, he assails the converso priests as well (just as the apocryphal letter does), for the conversos still retained these positions in the churches; but here, too, while referring, as his cardinal’s duty commanded, to the “spiritual” damage those priests “caused” the Chris¬ tians, he harps on the managerial offices they occupied, on the benefices and other advantages they gained, and thereby denied to the Old Christians.11 Thus we see Siliceo take the same position adopted by the racists of 1449, who aspired to destroy the conversos’ social status and used the conversos’ alleged religious deviations only as a means to that end. As in the fabricated letter, so in Siliceo’s memoranda, the religious crime is relegated to the background and serves only as an auxiliary factor in the execution of the racists’ plan. Above all, the idea of the converso conspiracy, which is explic¬ itly presented in the letter, is also suggested in Siliceo’s memoranda, so that in this too there is full conformity between the apocryphal document and his own presentation. In all these matters, both the “letter” and the memoranda repeat the accusation leveled at the conversos by the racists in 1449. The only element which is missing in the “letter,” and which the cardinal did not ignore, is the issue of intermarriage between New and Old Christians. Siliceo assails the phenomenon, and thus completes the cycle of the principal argu¬ ments voiced by the racists in their earlier campaigns.12 The spurious letter of the Jews of Constantinople is therefore not just a literary curiosity or a mark of ignominy on the cardinal who used it. It is rather a document of major significance, as it presents in a nutshell the main racists’ charges in 1548, thereby showing the extent to which they repeated the views first enunciated in 1449. It tells us that the racists’ main sphere of interest was secular rather than religious, and that in 1548 they were still fighting a social, economic and racial battle disguised in religious arguments, precisely as they had done a century before. What is more, Siliceo repeats these arguments not only in content but also in style. When he says that the conversos became the “masters of the Old Christian estates as well as the “lords of the Old Christians’ lives,”13 he echoes the voice of Marcos Garcia; and when he asserts that the converso physicians “took their offices for no other purpose than killing the Old Christians,"'* he is plainly quoting Espina. It is the identity of the racists’ style in the various stages of their campaign that helps

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convince us that their aims remained the same, as does the overall thrust of their arguments and the fierce hatred that fired them. It would be impossible to separate this ferocious hostility, and the lines of argument that supported it, from the long evolution of the Inquisition and its sustained assaults upon the conversos. The Inquisition was essentially a child of the racist movement, and in both its thinking and feeling it tended toward the racist point of view. Under Ferdinand this tendency was curbed, and the Inquisition had to act, at least formally, within the limits of a strictly religious persecution. But under his successors it was given greater freedom, and with the advancement of the limpieza drive, the Inquisition could give more vent to its desire to act in full accord with the racists’ aims. It became, in fact, more and more a formal spokesman, advocate and champion of the racist move¬ ment, and in the days of Siliceo its racist language was plain and unmistak¬ able. Thus in its appeal to Pope Julius III to confirm a limpieza statute of the Observantine Franciscans, the Suprema (i.e., the leading council of the Inqui¬ sition) referred to “the crafty and unscrupulous ways in which that unquiet race [i.e., the conversos\ disturbed the peace of all bodies to which it found entrance,”1S thus describing the conversos in the same language applied to them by Siliceo in his own appeals for the confirmation of similar statutes.16 What is more, we can see the Inquisition’s growing tendency to subscribe to the four racist arguments we have noted (with respect to commerce, offices, priest¬ hood, and medicine). To be sure, insofar as commerce was concerned the Inquisition could not urge, freely and openly, the suppression of all trading activities of the conversos, as the kings were firmly opposed to such demands. But on all other issues it expressed its position (which was in effect the racists’ position) with little or no restraint. Thus, in urging that the conversos be barred from offices in a religious order, it speaks of all New Christians as "aspiring to rule, with the object of ruining the Old Christians. ”17 At the same time it burned converso priests as Judaizers who sought to “profane and capture the churches,” as we know from a variety of sources18; and as for its view of the converso physicians, we have the testimony of Siliceo, which speaks for itself: For not many years ago there was burned in Valencia a [converso] physician, to whom his sons used to say when he returned from work: “Welcome, the avenger!” [Bten benga el bengador\. And in Ciudad Real another was burned who used to put poison under one of his fingernails, which he allowed to grow [excessively] for this purpose, and with that finger he would stir the purgatives, which he administered to his Old Christian patients, until the poison was absorbed in the purging sub¬ stance, so that the Old Christians who took it died. And a few days ago they reconciled in Toledo a surgeon who would throw into the wrounds

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of Old Christians a certain poisonous powder of which they died. And to bring [more] examples of these [atrocities] would mean never to finish.19 These were not charges drawn from propaganda pieces, written by un¬ known vilifiers and calumniators, but charges that served the tribunals of the Inquisition to condemn men to death, perpetual imprisonment, torture, in¬ famy and loss of all possessions. Lea, who was flabbergasted by these accusa¬ tions, said: “Wild as this may seem to us, it gives us a valuable insight into the impulses that governed Spain in its dealings with the alien races within its borders.”20 In the whole great work of this great scholar, there is no other statement in which he comes closer to diagnosing the converso problem. For the above statement shows that the conversos were not persecuted as bearers of a heresy—that is, of a different religious creed—but rather as members of a different race—and even more important, an alien race. No other connota¬ tion can be associated with this expression save that of a group foreign to the Spaniards, and as such hated and subjected by them to libels of the vilest nature. Moreover, Lea tells us that the purpose of those libels (and the policy they initiated) was “brute repression and extermination,”21 without adducing any religious aim such as “correction,” “penitence,” or “purity.” Here we see Lea, in one of the few moments in which he freed himself from the prevalent conceptions and let his own insights define what he observed—namely, the real “impulses that governed Spain”—approaching a correct interpretation of the problem, its symptoms and manifestations. We cannot, however, end our remarks on this point without expressing disagreement with Lea’s implied concept of Spain’s attitudes toward its “alien races” (in the plural!), as if those attitudes were of the same order. Lea seems to equate Spain’s policy toward the conversos with the one it pursued toward the Moriscos, and he seems also to consider identical the motives that determined those policies. But this identity was only partial, or rather limited to specific issues. Like the conversos, the Moriscos were viewed by the Old Christians as an alien minority group, and no doubt there was a racialnational irritant in Spain’s persistent drive against them. In all the rest, however, the two drives differed. In the case of the Moriscos, Spain had to deal with a basically anti-Christian, anti-assimilationist and anti-Spanish element that could hardly merge with Spain s culture and society. In the case of the conversos, the opposite was the case. The problem of the conversos belonged to a different category, stemmed from different sources (in addition to the common ones), and was governed therefore by different impulses. It is to solve their problem, and theirs alone, that the Spanish Inquisition was erected.

V. Struggling Assimilation No less important than the impact of the above changes in limiting the Inquisition’s persecution of the Marranos was the steady transformation that was taking place in the conversos’ ethnic condition. In 1548 Cardinal Siliceo complained that the conversos (“these people who descended from the Jews”) kept marrying their sons and daughters to nobles of high rank (in his words: to the “most illustrious people of Spain”) in order to “shield them¬ selves from the Inquisition and raise themselves above the Old Christians.”1 Like all other statements of Siliceo on the conversos, this one, too, is affected by his hatred, and although there is truth in it, it is coached in phrases that misrepresent the actual development. One may gather from his assertions that the conversos’ sole interest in marrying nobles was to find shelter from the Inquisition. But this was certainly not the case. The process of intermar¬ riage between the two groups was, as we have seen, already well advanced by the middle of the 15th century,2 and thus it began at least two generations before the founding of the Inquisition. What prompted it was the conversos’ desire to rise to the highest social level (what Siliceo called “to raise them¬ selves above the Old Christians”—as if the nobles were not Old Christians!) and profit from its social and economic advantages. What motivated the nobles to enter such wedlocks were no doubt primarily financial interests, which always counted heavily in nobiliar marriages; but utilitarian consider¬ ations were not always the main stimulant of intermarriage among either the nobles or the conversos. Indubitably, some members of the great nobility and the higher ranks of the converso aristocracy developed ties of comradeship, friendship and affection, which provided incentives for marital unions. For all these reasons, we may take it for granted that if the Inquisition had not been created, the progress of intermarriage between nobles and conversos would have continued at its former—if not quickened—pace. The establishment of the Inquisition, however, moved the Marranos to accelerate and expand the process of intermarriage for the very reason indicated by Siliceo—that is, because intermarriage with the nobles offered them protection from Inquisitional persecution. The kings would refrain from involving the nobility in heretical charges, which would have roused the nobles against the Crown and turned them into its sworn enemies; and the Inquisition would not dare challenge royal policies of such high signifi¬ cance. Consequently, intermarriage between nobles and conversos pro¬ ceeded with little or no disturbance. As a result, about 1535 (more than half a century after the founding of the Inquisition) the famous doctor Lopez Villalobos could state that speaking evil of the converso stock touches “the

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majority of the Spanish nobility, ”3 and in 1560 Cardinal Bobadilla could go beyond this when, in a memorandum to the king, he asserted that no part of the Spanish nobility was clear of admixture with Jewish blood.4 But intermarriage between New and Old Christians was not limited to the nobility. By 1449, as we have noted, it included commoners in the cities, too5; and we may safely assume that as time went on, the number of such mar¬ riages increased. They must have especially involved members of the upper classes of both the Old and New Christians in the cities, and ultimately, in growing proportions, members of their middle classes, too. Out of these marital unions emerged most of the urban merchant communities that domi¬ nated a large part of Spain’s commerce, such as the one that became promi¬ nent in Toledo in the first half of the 16th century.6 What prompted intermarriage within these classes was basically what started it in the 15th century—the common pragmatic and emotional factors that make for marital unions, as well as the desire of many conversos to live a full Christian life in a Christian society. Their need to find some protection from the Inquisition can obviously not be excluded from their motives, since marital association with Old Christian commoners could usually screen them against the Inqui¬ sition almost as effectively as their marriages with the nobles. In fact, almost every mixed Old-New Christian family, especially of the urban upper classes, formed the nucleus of a web of kinships, economic interests and other relationships that were interwoven in Spain’s social fabric. To touch it might stir a wave of protest that could prove too strong or too risky to repress. But besides the social obstacles posed by intermarriage to the activity of the Holy Office, the moral obstruction it presented to that activity was likewise of no minor importance. For the very idea that a faithful Old Christian would give his son or daughter in marriage to a heretic was considered incredible if not absurd, and thus it was assumed that every Old Christian who entered such a union had ascertained beforehand that the converso involved was a true Christian. Moreover, the charges leveled at the Judaizers as performers of Jewish rites were based on the assumption that they had perpetrated their crimes in the privacy of their homes or in secret gatherings enabled by the support of their families; but when a Judaizer married an Old Christian, he lost that sanctuary and the facilities it offered him. Such a marriage brought him into a Christian environment—that of his spouse’s family and society, which would obviously prevent him from con¬ ducting a concealed or double religious life. This meant that a converso who married an Old Christian, even if he had been a Judaizer, had resolved to abandon his former faith and ritual and raise his children as Christians. These obvious conclusions denied the Inquisition any reasonable excuse to attack him. It need scarcely be said that not all Spanish racists accepted these conclu-

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sions as guidelines for their conduct. To most of them, followers of men like Siliceo, all conversos, including those married to Old Christians, carried their Judaism in the recesses of their minds and, if they did not actually perform Jewish rites, remained “mentally steadfast in [their] conformity with the Law.”7 Siliceo, of course, could not prove this claim. On the other hand, however, it would be wrong to assume that the bulk of the Old Christians who took conversos as their consorts made that step after careful considera¬ tion of the arguments we have outlined above. What we ought to bear in mind is that on both sides of the fence very large numbers of people were involved and that the personal solutions to their various problems were shaped by group attitudes and beliefs, by general observations and common impressions, which were partly inherited and partly formed by themselves in accord with their social inclinations. To explain more clearly what this implied, a few remarks must be added to what has been said about the attitude of the Spanish people toward the conversos. In the foregoing we have centered our attention on the racists and, more broadly, on the antisemitic movement which drove Spain, from the middle of the iyth century, toward the creation of the Inquisition. Our special interest in this movement stemmed from our conviction that it constituted a dynamic and aggressive force which, more than any other segment of the people, determined the course of Spain’s history at the time. We also believe that in the eighties and the nineties, it came to comprise the majority of the people, though we do not believe that at any time it constituted an over¬ whelming majority. Those who opposed it or differed from its views were never numerically insignificant. To be sure, under the reign of the Catholic Kings (and the crushing regime of the Inquisition), they were forced into political passivity, but this does not mean that they were totally submerged, or frightened into social passivity as well. Undoubtedly, most of them were sons and grandsons of the Old Christians who had sheltered the conversos and defended them in Toledo during the outbreak of 1467, who battled on their behalf in the streets of Cordova in 1473, who fought with them against their enemies in Segovia in 1474, and who prevented attacks upon them in Seville in both 1473 and 1474. These Old Christians, we may safely assume, bequeathed this attitude to many of their descendants, and the friendliness of the latter toward the conversos increased, rather than waned, under the persecution. They considered the conversos sincere Christians, believed that they were gravely wronged by the Inquisition, retained their business and social contacts with them, and rendered them whatever help they could offer within the limitations of the existing laws (and occasionally no doubt also beyond them). It is this section of both nobles and commoners with whom the conversos intermarried, and it must have been a large section indeed; for if it did not represent a silent majority, it certainly constituted an important

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minority, at least a quarter of the Spanish people. Otherwise it is utterly impossible to explain the ethnic absorption of such large masses of Marranos into the Old Christian population. This is how it happened that within only one century after Siliceo’s attacks on Spain’s Marranos, their demographic picture had radically changed, and in 1670 Spinoza could write that they “became so intermingled with the Spaniards as to leave of themselves no relic or remem¬ brance.”8 To be sure, Spinoza, in making this statement, relied on information obtained in Amsterdam from Marrano sources regarded as reliable. Yet what these sources conveyed was the general impression which any visitor to Spain, or any resident in that country, would gain from his contacts and relations with the Spaniards.9 Judging by the latter’s general attitudes, no¬ body seemed to distinguish any longer between Old and New Christians. But that does not mean that all Spanish racists and the Holy Office, their faithful representative, lost all interest in the subject. Although the mass of the conversos was no longer recognizable, a few of them could still be discovered and “identified” as secret followers of Judaism. And thus it took more than half a century after 1670—the date of Spinoza’s aforecited statement—before the last fires of the Inquisition were extinguished, and more than another century before all search was abandoned for remnants of Marranism among candidates for office. Thus was finally achieved the goal that Alonso de Cartagena, the converso bishop, proclaimed in the middle of the 15th century as the ultimate objective of Marrano life in Spain. The goal was racial merger, fusion, disappearance; and from the standpoint of the ardent Marrano assimilationists, they tri¬ umphed over the racists who sought to prevent its achievement. It seems certain, however, that had their early protagonists imagined the way in which their objective would be gained or the cost that was to be entailed in its attainment, they would have been much more reserved, and more reticent, in the advocacy of their cause. For the cost was staggering by any calculation. Not only did it involve enormous bloodshed, indescribable suffering on a tremendous scale, and myriads of lives turned into nightmares; it involved also the massive spoliation and destruction of the products of the labor of many generations; the abandonment of numerous hard-won positions, and the loss of influence, honor and prestige; it meant indeed not only retreat from power, but also retreat from fame. Moreover, it meant the sacrifice of identity, not only in collective but in personal terms

as it implied the

suppression of thousands of talents and the choking of the hopes, strivings, and aspirations that make any man’s life worth living. Marranism died hard, praying for its end, its suicide being prevented not by friend but by foe, and its death throes lasting four hundred years—a terrible way for assimilation to be effected and for the light of a creative group to be put out.

VI. The Insidious Pretext Never did cunning, hypocrisy and deception make greater use of sanc¬ timonious contentions than did the Inquisition in its attack on the conversos. Nor was any similar operation crowned with such phenomenal success. What doubtless contributed much to this success was the Inquisition’s skillful presentation of its verdicts as the judgments of wise and righteous men who had but one purpose: the establishment of truth. Vested with the authority of the Holy Office, their sentences were regarded as “holy,” too—the final word of Spain’s highest tribunal entrusted to deal with the gravest of all crimes—that of “heretical depravity.” Only king and pope could outweigh that authority (the former practically, and the latter also formally), and it was indeed only through these channels that the conversos could, on rare occa¬ sions, gain some relief from the Inquisition’s pressure. The notion that many of the conversos were heretics had, as we have seen, become widespread in Spain already in the middle of the 15th century, owing to the relentless and unscrupulous campaign conducted by the conversos’ foes at the time. But shortly after the establishment of the Inquisition, it was on virtually everybody’s lips. This was largely due to the numerous confes¬ sions made by New Christians in Seville and other places in response to the Inquisition’s Edicts of Grace. To critical minds these confessions proved nothing except that the Inquisition inspired great fear from the very begin¬ ning of its operations, and that many conversos, in their desperation, took the promises of the Inquisition at face value and hoped that by admitting minor sins they might escape major tribulations. They were soon to discover, however, that these hopes were delusive; that their “confessions,” which they thought would end their worries, started a long chain of troubles for them; and that in fact they had fallen into a terrible trap cleverly laid for them by the Inquisition. But before the Inquisition made use of their confessions as a foolproof net to catch more “culprits,” it used them as evidence for the existence ofjudaizers in immense numbers. If before this “discovery” the charges of heresy appeared to many doubtful or exaggerated, many more now joined the racist claim that “all” conversos were heretics. That this claim became so deeply entrenched in the thinking of large masses of Spaniards; that it withstood the objections, criticisms and denials of its numerous opponents among the Old Christians, was due in large measure to the Inquisition’s ability to turn its campaign into a crusade—into a perpetual call upon the Spanish people to join it in hunting down the heretics. When such a hue and cry engulfs a nation, very few can withstand its impact. The herd instinct in man then has its heyday, and even the most

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independent spirits tend to follow the great majority. This happens often even in societies that do not use harsh measures against dissidents. In socie¬ ties that use such measures, conformity is virtually universal. Spain under the Inquisition was such a society. Hence, any public defense of the conversos would be instantly met with a crushing denunciation, and the defender would be marked as a fautor of heretics, if not as a secret heretic himself. In such circumstances, the Inquisition’s verdicts enjoyed immediate public ac¬ ceptance. Nobody dared dispute its “facts,” just as nobody ventured to question its motives. Armed with terror, espionage and propaganda, the Inquisition proceeded to capture Spain’s opinion and control it almost flawlessly for three centuries and more. But the impact of its agitation was not confined to Spain. The notions it instilled in the Spanish public spread abroad and were accepted in Europe, especially those that concerned the conversos and their “secret Judaic practices.” Nor was the triumph of its claims and assertions limited to the period of its reign; it is visible also in most scholarly works written by truth-seeking, eminent historians from the beginning of modern historiogra¬ phy on the Inquisition down to the present time. Thus we see the old apologists of the Inquisition matched by many modern authors who describe its actions not only as just, but also as consider¬ ate and humane. Similarly, the charge that the Spanish Inquisition was a cause of Spain’s cultural regression and decline has been met by strong denials from scholars who claim that the Inquisition in no way retarded Spain’s scientific and intellectual development. And as for its general social impact, it may suffice to cite the learned Vacandard to illustrate one of the major opinions that infuse modern studies of the Inquisition. “Taking every¬ thing into consideration,” he wrote, “we may say that the Institution and working of the tribunals of the Inquisition were the means of real social progress.”1 It is questionable whether the scholarly apologists of the Inquisition have at any time been outnumbered by its critics. But if many pointed out the atrocities of the Inquisition, the cruelties and inhumanities it practiced on its victims, only few historians considered the possibility that this great organi¬ zation designed to fight heresy was actually created for a different purpose, and was exclusively devoted to the attainment of that purpose for decades after its inception. If this possibility had been carefully weighed, it would have led researchers to quite different conclusions. But this was not to be the course of historiography. That the Inquisition operated under false pretenses, that religion served it merely as a mask and an excuse for its basically antireligious persecution; that it abused the authority of the Pope and his aides by pursuing objectives they had never approved

indeed, that had never

entered their minds; that it attempted genocide of a Christian people on thew

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pretext of its alleged anti-Christianity—in brief, that it perpetrated a terrible crime against humanity, against religion and against the Catholic Church itself by deceiving it in a manner, on a scale and for a goal that was radically opposed to anything it stood for, only isolated researchers came to see and admit. When Lord Acton described the Inquisition as founded on a “murderous” principle, as an “appalling edifice of intolerance, tyranny, cruelty, which believers in Christ built up to perpetuate their belief,”2 he actually referred to all inquisitions that operated under papal auspices—the Medieval, Span¬ ish and Roman. He did not single out the Spanish Inquisition as an organiza¬ tion sui generis. And to the extent that his description relates to the Inquisition in general, one can readily agree with it. It cannot, however, serve as an adequate characterization of the Spanish Inquisition at its inception, as well as in the first forty years of its activity, during which it dealt almost exclusively with conversos. Inasmuch as that early period is concerned, it was clearly distinct from all other inquisitions, and therefore what applies to the category as a whole does not cover its distinctiveness. Scholars, to be sure, have pointed out certain matters related to the authority, procedure and severity in which the Spanish Inquisition differed from its predecessors, and thereby seemed to justify its special designation. It is hard, however, to see in any of these matters a true mark of its unique¬ ness. There was not really much innovation in its procedures, or the rules it applied to the treatment of suspects, or the guidelines it followed in its investigations, or in the issuance of its judgments. Nor can we say that the Spanish Holy Office exceeded all previous inquisitions in ruthlessness, cru¬ elty, and bloodshed. It was certainly an awesome instrument of persecution, the like of which the world had seldom seen, but it is questionable whether the Inquisition of Languedoc could not match it in the aforementioned aspects. Even the fact that the kings, and not the popes, were its real guides, protectors and masters, would not have made it so different from the others, had it not been for other factors closely associated with its royal control. As we see it, the Spanish Inquisition was distinguished not by greater tyranny, intolerance and cruelty—the qualities Lord Acton found in all Inquisitions—but by the cynicism, hypocrisy and false pretenses it employed in the first four decades of its existence (and also later insofar as the conversos were concerned). For the Spanish Inquisition was not created by “believers in Christ” in order to “perpetuate their belief,” but by Christians who wished to deny other Christians their rightful share in Spain’s Christian society. It was an institution based mostly on false pretenses, sham pretexts and in¬ vented accusations. For its purpose was not the exaltation of religion, but the suppression of a people that could not be reduced save by pinning on it the charge of heresy. It was an onerous task, but the Inquisition could perform

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it because social conditions and political interests combined to provide it with the necessary tools, as well as with a suitable setting—i.e., a surrealistic theater of war, in which a religious weapon like the Holy Office could be used to attain a secular aim. It is here that the real difference lay between the Spanish and all other Inquisitions, and it is because of this difference that the Spanish Inquisition did indeed occupy a special place in the history of persecution.

VII. The Destructive Urge It was inevitable that the Inquisition’s attitude toward the conversos and the special way in which it treated them would affect its treatment of other groups that fell under its broadened jurisdiction. This touches the problem of what brought about the extension of the Inquisition in so many directions and so many spheres. As we shall see, the solution to this problem is closely related to the theme of this work. Viewed politically, the explanations so far given for the spread of the Inquisition may appear satisfactory. The extension of the Inquisition, we are usually told, resulted from the expansion of the Spanish empire, from the rise of the Reformation and the Counterreformation, and from the growth of Spain’s monarchic absolutism, which used the Inquisition to buttress its power and spearhead its territorial conquests. Historians have repeatedly noted these facts, which doubtless had much to do with the phenomenon. The one major fact they have failed to consider, however, is the evolution of the expansionist impulse of the Inquisition in the course of its long, obsessive engrossment in the Jewish question and its “solution.” European historiography has been noted for its tendency to relegate the fate and fortunes of the Jews—including the major catastrophes that befell them—to some remote corner on the stage of history, without imputing to them any real influence on the general course of events. The result on more than one occasion has been a misconception of the general course which was often affected by the Jewish factor. The scholarly treatment of the Inquisi¬ tional expansion is a case in point. The misconception in this particular case stemmed largely from the view of the Spanish Inquisition as a uniform, monolithic, and unaltered entity throughout the course of its existence. The Inquisition, however, was no mere machinery, an instrument in the hands of kings and popes. It was a living organism, with its own views and attitudes, as well as its own plans and aspirations. Scholars have agreed that it fought for its interests, promoted its schemes, canvassed its projects and, more particularly, represented a move¬ ment that it was anxious to support and defend. What has hitherto not been fully realized, or taken duly into account, is that changes were wrought in the Inquisitors’ dispositions, in their tendencies and frame of mind. These changes evolved under the influence of practice, habits, traditions, gains and losses, and, needless to say, of certain developments in the general state of affairs. We ought to dwell on these changes for a moment before our study draws to a close. As we have shown, the functionaries of the Inquisition, all or most of

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whom were ardent racists, were bent upon achieving the aim of their move¬ ment, which was to ruin the conversos. Denied as they were by the Inquisi¬ tion’s own rules and, above all, by Spain’s royal policy, the right to take measures of mass extermination, they nonetheless believed that, with the means at their disposal, they could destroy the conversos by degrees. This expectation, however, was not realized. Despite the terrible punishment they had taken, the conversos as a group were not crushed. What is more, they stubbornly resisted the Inquisition and threw more and more obstacles in its path. In consequence, the Inquisition came to feel a sense of failure. If in forty years of ceaseless effort it could not vanquish the conversos, it had to look for other, more effective means to beat them. To apply more sweeping measures, however, the Inquisition had to gain greater independence. But this meant challenging the king, and often the pope, who insisted on supervising its activities. As none of them would grant it greater powers, the Inquisition was forced to change its strategy. T he essence of that strategy was to achieve by width—that is, by broadening its jurisdiction—what it could not gain by height—that is, by raising the level of its prerogatives. It was not at all far-fetched to assume that once its jurisdiction extended to encompass larger spheres than that of the conversos, its increased influence would at length force the kings to give it greater independence. This was the so-called political consideration that started the expansion of the Inquisition in Spain (apart from the psychological causes, to which we shall refer); and under these circumstances, it was inevitable that the Inquisition would cast covetous eyes on the Moriscos

that large body

of infidels, about the size of the converso group, who had recently been coerced to join the faith. The forced conversion of the Moors, which began in Granada in iyoi, continued, under the prodding of the Inquisition, until it embraced both Castile and Aragon.1 What moved Ferdinand and Isabella to subscribe to measures that directly contradicted both the terms of capitulation they signed in Granada and the solemn assurances for freedom of religion they repeatedly gave the Moors of their kingdoms? Unlike the conversos, it should be noted, the Moors, both before and after their conversion, were not faced with a powerful popular movement that demanded their punishment and subjugation; consequently, the Kings were under no pressure to meet such demands, which, unless satisfied, might threaten the country’s stability. Nor was there any other group in Spain, either in the nobility or the third estate, that had a real interest in persecuting the Moors and later the Moriscos. It was only the Inquisition and its closest associates that urged, incited and persuaded the Kings first to consent to the Moors’ forced conversion and later to turn the whole Morisco camp into a hunting ground for the pursuit of heretics. In both circumstances, the alluring argument was the opportunity

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to realize a great goal—unity of faith in all the Spanish Kingdoms—an argument that was not even vaguely considered when the Spanish Inquisition was established.2 Such an idea could occur to Jimenez only after the expul¬ sion of the Jews and the capture of Granada, which placed all Moors in the Iberian peninsula at the Christians’ mercy. For various reasons, which are not hard to guess, the idea could appear attractive to the Kings. But realizing the hardships and economic losses that its materialization was bound to entail, they naturally hesitated to give it flat approval and hampered its materializa¬ tion. That the Inquisition would seize on the “unity of faith” slogan to further its objectives could of course be readily envisioned. To be sure, the Moors, on their conversion to Christianity, were promised by the Crown immunity from the Inquisition for a period of forty years; but the Holy Office knew how to remove such an obstacle by some flimsy excuse it invented for the purpose, and the Moriscos soon fell under its sway. It also managed, by adroit maneu¬ vers, to free itself from the various restraints which the Kings sought to place on its Morisco persecution. Following that, it saw its way clear to apply to the Moriscos the brutal treatment it had designed for them all. William Lecky, the well-known inquirer into the evolution of European morals, believed that the persecutors’ faith in a doctrine and their absolute devotion to its realization made them “indifferent” to the suffering of the victims and removed their “reluctance to inflict pain” upon them.3 This may be true of some doctrinaires who urged stern measures against dissenters, but were personally detached from the scene of action. It can hardly be true of their followers and agents, who carried out the persecutory measures. In any case, Lecky’s view does not square with the evidence offered by the Inquisi¬ tion. What moved the Inquisitors (with a few exceptions, of course) to apply their dreadful techniques to the Moriscos was not devotion to this or that principle, but the desire to extend their controls and powers and demonstrate that extension in fact. They were certainly not enthusiastic at the prospect of making the Unity of Faith come true insofar as the Moriscos were con¬ cerned; for the ruthless persecution they launched against the latter was not calculated to bring them closer to Christianity but to keep them as far from it as possible. To assume that the Inquisitors did not realize all this is, to say the least, naive. This brings us to the psychological factors involved in the expansion of the Inquisition. Indeed, in the long period (almost a whole century) during which the persecution of the Moriscos unfolded, the Inquisition used every outra¬ geous act, every cruelty, intrigue and plot imaginable to provoke the Moris¬ cos to rebellious resistance, and thereby justify their extermination. For the genocidal impulse of the Inquisition against the conversos (which was checked in mid-course, as we have indicated above) sought to find fulfillment

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in its struggle with the Moriscos; and it was not only that general impulse that drove them toward the new target. Associated with it was the habit of tormenting, robbing and humiliating their hapless victims, which sought exhibition in broader domains. And the extension of their habit of thus treating “culprits” from the camp of the conversos to that of the Moriscos cannot be explained by their “indifference to suffering” (as may be gathered from Lecky’s theory) but rather by the anomalous, ghastly pleasure they derived from their hideous actions. The excesses to which they subjected the conversos did not satisfy, it appears, their ferocious urges, which grew with every brutal act. For such practices have the effect of drugs; they compel their addicts to seek further sources and means of intoxication. Only if we take this factor into account can we explain the twin phenomena that lie at the heart of the Inquisition’s history: its endless search for new groups of victims and its perpetual attempt to reach higher stages of potency and repression. It was, in all likelihood, not by accident that the start of a large-scale Morisco persecution nearly coincided with the Inquisition’s campaign for the limpieza, when it forbade the universities of Toledo, Valladolid and Sala¬ manca to issue graduate diplomas to converso students purely on the basis of their Jewish stock.4 This decree should not be viewed as indication that the Inquisition then decided gradually to limit its ruthless, bloody war against the conversos, and henceforward to carry on that war primarily on a social-racial front. The racial measures it took were not meant to serve as substitute, but as supplement to its previous assaults; they formed a flank attack by which it sought to destroy the social ground on which the conversos stood when they wrestled with the Inquisition. For throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, the Holy Office kept sending conversos to the flames, although the number of those burned had gradually diminished due to the conversos’ intermarriage with Old Christians. The Morisco heretics were to compensate the Inquisition for the decrease in the total of its heretical victims, which had previously been supplied entirely by conversos. The new victims provided an important source of income, which had been heretofore untapped,5 and they offered justification for the Inquisition’s claim that heresy in Spain was more widespread than it seemed. Nevertheless, the causes of the Morisco persecution must be looked for not only in the Inquisition s search for funds and its need to demonstrate its raison d'etre, but also in the psychological reasons we have indicated above. In fact, for the same reasons, we may safely conclude, the Holy Office did not plan to limit its operations to the two “foreign” groups (the conversos and Moriscos), and from the beginning of the century it repeatedly exhibited a growing desire to spread its net of terror over the broad masses of the Spanish people. Lucero’s attacks on the Old Christians in Cordova indubitably re-

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fleeted this tendency, which in his case was brought to an abrupt halt by the furious protest of the Spanish public. In no way could the Spaniards fall for the notion so audaciously advanced by the Inquisition—namely, that Old Christians became Jewish converts and, on top of this, missionaries of the Jewish faith. The bitter lesson of that dismal failure was not forgotten by the Holy Office. Never did it repeat that costly experiment, which almost endan¬ gered its very existence; but the inclination to penetrate Old Christian ranks was nonetheless not abandoned. Thus in the mid-iy2os, at the very time when it started its drive against the Moriscos, the Inquisition also opened a new route aimed at invading the Old Christian population. The new route was marked by a series of raids on marginal groups known to hold opinions which, though not tainted with Judaism, were disfavored or opposed by the majority of the people. Both by simple arguments and subtle twists, some of these opinions could easily be presented as squarely contradicting Christian law and doctrine, and as such condemned as heretical. Obviously, the consequences of these condemna¬ tions could be as fatal to their followers as those of any heresy, but the general public would be denied any means of judging the propriety of the Inquisi¬ tion’s procedures. For rarely did the bearers of these opinions have a way of making their views widely known, though their various theories covered the whole spectrum of European thought in the coming centuries. Accordingly, their adherents in Spain included mystics like the Illuminists, Quietists like the Molinists, rationalists like the Erasmists, spiritualists like the Jansenists, free thinkers like the Philosophists, and of course outright religious dissent¬ ers like the Protestants. Though each of these groups was numerically small, relatively and in absolute numbers, their combined persecution by the Inqui¬ sition left in its train enough bloodshed and ruin to terrorize large sections of the Old Christian camp. It would have been anomalous if this quenchless thirst for power and its exercise by torture and terror had not overflowed the borders of Spain into the countries that fell under its sway. It was in the nature of things that in dealing with non-Spaniards, the Inquisition would give more free rein to its urges and its frequently checked or half-restrained schemes. The symptoms of this development were noticed in many places, but perhaps nowhere so markedly as in the Netherlands. Here the Inquisition (established in 1522), though formally distinct from Spain’s Holy Office, was actually governed by the Spanish authorities, guided by their policies and abided by their orders, while these in turn were counseled and inspired by the chief leaders of the Inquisition in Spain. The following brief passage from Motley’s famous work on the rise of the Dutch Republic should suffice to give us a clear idea of the Inquisition’s performance in that country.

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Upon the 16th of February, 1568, a sentence of the Holy Office condemned all the inhabitants of the Netherlands to death as heretics. From this univer¬ sal doom only a few persons especially named were excepted. The proclamation of the King [Philip II], dated ten days later, confirmed this decree of the Inquisition and ordered it to be carried into instant execution, without regard to age, sex, or condition. This is probably the most concise death-warrant that was ever framed. Three million people, men, women, and children, were sentenced to the scaffold in three lines, and as it was well known that these were not harmless thunders, like some bulls of the Vatican, but serious and practical measures which were to be enforced, the horror which they produced can be easily imagined.6

Motley, who wrote this in 1856, long before World War II, could not believe that it was the purpose of the government actually to carry out the “wholesale plan in all its length and breadth,” but he adds that the Netherlanders—who, needless to say, knew both Philip and his Inquisition—be¬ lieved that for them nothing was “too monstrous” to be carried into effect. But the king’s approval of the Inquisition’s decree7—an approval given without any limitation—and his unreserved order to carry that death sentence into instant execution, leave no doubt to his intent. Above all, the actions taken by the authorities confirm the Netherlanders’ grim expectations. Thus, the same author says that, following that decree, “men in the highest and humblest positions were daily and hourly,” at a mere moment’s warning, carried to the scaffold. Then he adds that Alva, in a letter to Philip, coolly estimated the number of executions which were to take place immediately after Holy Week, “at eight hundred heads.” Many a citizen, convicted of possessing a hundred thousand florins and of no other crime, saw himself suddenly tied to a horse’s tail, with his hands fastened behind him, and so dragged to the gallows. But although wealth was an unpardonable sin, poverty proved rarely a protection.8

That the Inquisition was inclined toward genocidal plans is also evident from other developments. In 1566 (less than two years before mass extermi¬ nation was decreed for Holland) Philip entertained various plans for the set¬ tlement of the Morisco question; and some of these plans, which were most seriously considered, wavered between extermination and expulsion.9 They were urged on him again in 1588; and if he refrained from adopting fully any of these courses, it was perhaps not so much because of moral scruples as because of his fear that implementation might provoke resist¬ ance that could be hard to quell. Similarly, if the death warrant on the Dutch people was not executed in full as announced, it was because that

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people broke out in a revolt that ultimately released them from the grip of Spanish rule. But the order as given was no idle threat. It reflected the intense wishes of its framers, and especially of Philip’s Inquisitional coun¬ selors, to give, in that terrible punishment of the Netherlanders, free vent to their deep and intense desire—i.e., to that genocidal impulse they were forced to restrain in dealing with the Marranos and the Moriscos in Spain. We may better understand the expansion of the Inquisition, and the peculiar compound of feelings that impelled it, if we consider the case of Nazi Germany and the evolution of the movement that created it. The rise of Nazism is commonly attributed to the military humiliation and economic distress which Germany suffered through its defeat in World War I, to the excessive indemnities the victors imposed on it, and to Germany’s refusal to abandon all hope of becoming a leading power in the world. There is of course much truth in all these contentions, but they should not serve to underrate the fact that Nazism came to power in Germany on the gales of a furious antisemitic outburst. Indeed, anyone who treats this fact as marginal or as a freak phenomenon in German affairs is ignoring a key factor which determined not only the rise of Nazism to its peak of influence, but also some crucial stages of its history both before and during World War II. Like the Spanish antisemites’ hatred of the conversos, the German Nazis’ hatred of the Jews so affected their thinking, their policies and decisions that all their activities, in virtually all fields, were influenced in varying measures by that hate. Not only did that odium obsess them, but it overflowed their souls to the point where it needed more objects of torture, exploitation and destruc¬ tion than the Jewish people could possibly provide. This explains why, while so strenuously engaged in the extermination of millions of Jews, they also exterminated millions of non-Jews and why they planned to annihilate more masses of non-Jews once their hold on Europe became secure. In both cases persecution overreached itself, so that from a means it became an end. Persecution was conducted for its own sake, and if allowed, it would expand in new directions, without any limit of space or time. It is scarcely astonishing that those possessed by such desires lost not only the common capacity to distinguish between what is morally permissible and what is not, but also the ordinary ability to differentiate between what is feasible and what is not. This was very likely one of the factors leading to the fatal misjudgments they made. It would not be too far-fetched to suggest that Hitler’s glaring, all-too-obvious errors in drawing America and Russia into the War, and Philip’s bungled conduct of his own compulsive war against the Netherlands and England stemmed both from minds unhinged at least partly by the maddening urges to which we have referred.

1 hus we see how both these developments—the Spanish and the Ger-

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man—which so drastically affected the history of Europe and had their beginnings in those torrents of hate which stemmed from ancient and later antisemitism, managed to produce anti-social forces which, driven as they were by their fierce animosities, proved almost impossible to restrain. Social psychologists are known to differentiate between animosity toward opinions or beliefs (and, because of this, toward their adherents too), and animosities toward persons as such, regardless of their views or behavior. The former animosities may decrease or disappear with the surrender of the hated views, but the latter hold fast under any circumstance in which the persons involved may find themselves. The hatred of the Inquisition for the conversos and that of the Nazis for the Jews belonged to the second type of hostility. It was a naked enmity for persons or groups, regardless of their social or ideological position. This is why both Spanish antisemitism (which was the real author of the Spanish Inquisition) and German Jew-hatred (which gave birth to Nazism) produced race theories about the Jewish persons aimed at their annihilation. But having thus touched on the similarity of these movements, we ought also to note an important difference, which has a special bearing on the present study. Whereas Nazism openly proclaimed its goals and advocated total war to achieve them, the Inquisition never revealed its true aims and instead veiled its motives with arguments designed to justify its actions on moral grounds, as well as to give them an air of sanctity. The reason for the difference is evident. While Nazism grew out of a nihilistic culture which could openly value naked power, the Inquisition operated in a social climate imbued with religious concepts and principles. Hence, whereas Nazism could treat with contempt the demands of traditional morality, the Inquisi¬ tion had to present its brutal acts as necessary, and indeed unavoidable means for the exaltation of the Catholic faith. That the Inquisition succeeded, under the smokescreen of its claims, in concealing its real motives and intentions seems to be one of its most remarkable feats. But carefully examined, it is not a cause for wonder. Said the prophet Jeremiah: The heart of man is the most deceitful of all things, And deep is its perversion. Who can fathom it?10 As we see it, the “hearts” of the Inquisitors—i.e., their mental constitu¬ tions—were incurably perverted by the various influences that shaped their thinking and their tendencies. Apart from religious interests (which no doubt motivated some of its leaders), these tendencies were expressed by the officials of the Inquisition, down to its lowest functionaries and agents, in a blatant disregard for human life; a fervid desire to flaunt power and exercise

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control over life and death; a capacity for repression that could crush any spirit; a morbid passion for inflicting torture and causing pain that could break all resistance; and apart from all this, a shameless rapacity designed to render the torturer also the inheritor of his victim’s goods. Could the Spanish Inquisition cover all this up? It could; for the “heart of man is the most deceitful of all things.” Clever persons can always find ways to present a base action as a noble deed; and the Inquisition’s campaigners were very clever indeed. They were crafty agitators who knew how to argue, persuade and convince, and their task was facilitated by the long and bitter conflict between the Catholic Church and the Reforma¬ tion. In the course of this conflict the rival camps fought and destroyed each other in a wholesale manner—all this allegedly because of differences in faith, for which they were ready to kill and be killed. Under such circumstances it was not hard to assume that all the actions of the Inquisition, however dreadful, were nevertheless motivated by religious interests. So deeply was this notion implanted by the Inquisition in the public opinion of most European nations that even in the 19th and our own century most scholars had agreed that the Inquisitors believed in the validity of their reasons, as well as in the morality of their deeds. Hence, in appraising the functionaries of the Inquisition, most scholars did not question the sincerity of the Inquisitors, and differed only in appraising their characters. Thus, while conservatives viewed the Inquisitors as devout Christians who fulfilled their hard duties, the liberals considered them bigoted fanatics who acted as emissaries of a ruthless Church. This was also the position of the Commission on the Constitution, which the Cortes of Cadiz (1812) appointed to report, among other things, on the Inquisition. It goes without saying that it could not differentiate between the nature of the Inquisition’s persecution of the conversos and that of its assaults upon other groups. Yet when referring to the passion that Fray Luis de Leon suffered at the hands of the Inquisition, the commission was so “overwhelmed with horror and amazement” that its members could not find words to express their feelings. “It is inconceivable,” they said, “how far prejudice can fascinate, and false zeal can lead astray.”11 But it was not only “prejudice” and “false zeal” that moved the Inquisition and its racist cohorts to act against the conversos as they did. What moved them above all was a deep-seated hatred—fierce, implacable, and infernal hatred—for everything related to anything Jewish, be it ethnic or religious, social or intellectual—that hatred which stemmed from prejudice and a tradition rooted in the peculiar condition of the Jews. Without bearing in mind this special hatred and the various sources from which it sprang, one cannot understand its volcanic outburst through the birth of the Inquisition and its early operations, or its outpouring of burning lava for more than three and a half centuries.

VIII. Expulsion It would have been strange—indeed, incredible—if the Inquisition had not tried to extend its authority over thejews of Spain. Both the fierce hatred of its functionaries for thejews and their obsessive desire to increase their powers would seem to dictate such an extension; and in fact the Inquisition acted accordingly. Spanish Jewry was the first non-Marrano group that the Inquisition sought to get into its clutches. But its efforts in that direction were hindered by two factors—one constitutional and the other political. Constitutionally, the Inquisition was designed to deal with Christians who consciously and stubbornly deviated from the faith1; it had no authority over Jews any more than over any other infidels. Politically, it encountered the opposition of the Kings, who wanted the Jews to remain unmolested and their services to the Crown to continue undisturbed. There was only one way in which the Inquisition could legally entangle Jews in its net: if it charged them as fautors and abettors of heretics. But these charges had to be well founded; for the Kings would not allow the Inquisition to unleash a massive persecution against the Spanish Jews of the kind it had mounted against the conversos (i.e., on the basis of inadequate evidence). Here the Inquisition encountered an obstacle that it could not easily overcome. Since the number of Judaizers was small, and the number of their Jewish “assistants” still smaller, the Inquisition could show the Kings only a few cases in whichjews were involved as aides of heretics. Thus it was faced with the inescapable necessity of adopting new tactics in attacking thejews. Espina, whose ideas guided the Inquisition, had advocated, as we have seen, two possible ways to eliminate thejews from Spain: extermination or expulsion.2 In its violent campaign against the conversos, the Inquisition tried Espina’s first solution: it subjected the conversos to a gradual extermination, which it intended to accelerate and extend. To solve the Jewish question it had no choice but to apply Espina’s second method: expulsion. Expulsion, however, could be carried out only by direct order of the Kings, and the problem of the Inquisition was how to move the Kings to take an action they were known to oppose. It is in addressing this problem, perhaps more than elsewhere, that the Inquisition revealed its ingenuity, persever¬ ance, and dogged determination. As it could not prove judicially that thejews of Spain hampered its activity by aiding the Judaizers, it sought to implant the idea by propaganda—i.e., by constant repetition of the charge. As far as the populace was concerned, the Inquisition knew that it would not have to prove the charge by many real cases of Jews who had helped Judaizers. Its mere assertion that such cases were numerous would be taken by the masses

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as proof. In fact, the Inquisition could inflate its claim further by accusing the Jews of having been responsible for the very emergence of the Judaic heresy, and then of steadily nursing and sustaining it so as to prevent its extirpation.3 It was inevitable that such a campaign, if prolonged, would stir the populace to attack the Jews, and the realization of this eventuality by the Kings was, in fact, all the Inquisition needed. It counted on the great sensitivity of the Sovereigns to Spanish public opinion and on their interest in law and order. Especially, it knew, they would fear unrest while fighting the Granadan war. Faced with the Inquisition’s prodding and agitation, the Sovereigns felt that they had better yield. But they looked for an honorable way out. They knew of course that the presence of the Jews did not impede the Inquisition’s anti-converso operations, but they gave the appearance of believing that it did, and consequently that the “solution” proposed by the Inquisition was an absolute necessity. Thus, on January i, 1483, the Kings informed the Inquisi¬ tors of their decision to expel the Jews from the archbishopric of Seville and the bishoprics of Cordova and Jaen. The three sees made up most of Chris¬ tian Andalusia, which was then the sphere of the Inquisition’s activity. And so that region, which for more than six centuries had been the great center of Spanish Jewry, was at last cleared of the Jews who still lived there after the upheaval of 1391. “It is beyond any doubt,” says Baer, “that the Inquisition’s influence on the royal resolution to expel the Jews of Andalusia was decisive.”4 Extreme as it is, this assessment is correct, and it can be extended also to what happened a few years later in Aragon. The introduction of the Inquisition into that kingdom was strongly opposed by the Aragonese conversos, as well as by many leading Old Christians. The resistance was especially formidable in two cities: Teruel and Saragossa, and persisted even after inquisitional tribu¬ nals had been set up there and begun their work. The Inquisition no doubt argued that this powerful resistance was largely inspired by thejews, and that the Jews must be removed from the kingdom if the Inquisition was to accomplish its task. Once again the King yielded to the Inquisition. On May 12, i486, he informed the Inquisitors in Saragossa of his decision to expel the Jews from their archbishopric and the bishopric of Sancta Marla de Albarrazin, which included the town of Teruel.5 The Inquisition’s influence on this second decree of expulsion is evident from the fact that the Inquisitors of Aragon, like their predecessors in An¬ dalusia, were empowered to carry out the edict. It is apparent also from Ferdinand’s letter ofjuly 22, i486, to Tomas de Torquemada, the InquisitorGeneral, in which the King begs, rather than orders the Inquisitor to post¬ pone the departure of thejews from Teruel for six months, “in addition to the three that the Inquisitors had given them.”6 The King, who admitted that this delay was granted in accordance with his own expressed wishes (evi-

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[1089

dently, without first consulting Torquemada), now argued for the additional postponement by claiming that the Jews would be unable to sell their houses and pay their debts in the time allotted them. He concludes by saying to the Inquisitor-General: “Look into this, and if it is agreeable to you, let it be done.”7 The order of expulsion from Teruel and its bishopric and, what is more, from the archbishopric of Saragossa, was in all likelihood ultimately re¬ scinded. But this does not mean that the original decree did not stem mainly from the Inquisition’s pressure. The King had of course “the last word” on the subject as on other matters that related to the Inquisition. But he would not retract an order of this nature unless moved to do so by overriding reasons. In this case we may take it for granted that the Jews of Aragon gave him a huge sum to withdraw the edict; and the King, who was then in the midst of a campaign aimed at reducing Granada’s strongholds (and was, as usual, hard-pressed for funds), no doubt considered the offer too valuable— and too timely—to be turned down. He was of course sure that the require¬ ments of the war would be regarded even by the most extreme Inquisitors as sufficient to justify the revocation of the order. And yet he could not slight the commitment he had made to the Holy Office and the Inquisitor-General, whose granitelike hardness and relentless ferocity made him virtually in¬ domitable. If indeed Ferdinand canceled the order, he did it no doubt with the consent of Torquemada, who may have been compensated by a solemn promise that, as soon as Granada was conquered, all the Jews of Spain would be expelled. We believe that such a promise was given, and if it was, the Inquisition, rather than retreating, came closer to its goal with respect to the Jews. But “closer” is no final achievement; and the Inquisition could not yet rest on its laurels. To secure the fulfillment of the royal promise, it thought it vital to exert public pressure on the Kings; and this time the pressure, the Inquisition realized, had to be exceptionally strong, so as to overcome the great coun¬ terinfluence that the Jews would undoubtedly bring to bear. Accordingly, the Inquisition determined to fan the anti-Jewish feelings rampant in Spain into a popular fury that would make the Kings comply. But what could possibly create such a fury? It evidently took the Inquisition some time before it formed its plan. The plan was to prepare a monstrous trial against the Jews for conspiring with conversos to paralyze the Inquisition and kill all Christians by a magic conjuration. The terrible incantation was to be pronounced by Jews over a consecrated Host and the heart of a Christian child whom Jews and conversos would crucify for the purpose. A number of Jews, among them leading figures, together with an equal number of conversos, would be “caught” and forced by torture to admit to the crime. Their confessions, once publicized,

1090 ]

THE

ORIGINS

OF

THE

IN Q.U I S I T I O N

would inflame the populace; attacks on the Jews would break out in many places, and these would be followed by the King’s decision to expel thejews from the country. Thus was born the case of the “Holy Child of La Guardia,” to which we have already referred. It is hard to believe that such a crude charge, con¬ cocted on the basis ofEspina’s sordid tales, could serve as adequate grounds for the Inquisition to conduct for sixteen months such a ramified “investiga¬ tion” involving many agents and two tribunals, and supervised by the Inquis¬ itor-General himself. Yet this- was the charge which the Inquisition tried to prove by “confessions” extracted from Jews and conversos by means of the most appalling tortures. Not all the details of the “crime” as conceived by the Inquisition could be elicited from the “confessions,” and no coherent story emerged.8 The Inquisitors would undoubtedly have continued their attempts to eliminate the most glaring contradictions from the “testimonies;” but the fall of Granada was impending and the Inquisition decided to issue its verdict on the basis of the evidence it had procured. Thus on November 14,1491, only two weeks before Granada’s capitulation, the Inquisition made public in Avila its sentence condemning five Jews and six conversos to the stake for desecrating the Host and crucifying a Christian child, whose heart was ripped out for the purpose of a conjuration aimed at neutralizing the Inquisition and sending all Christians raving mad to their deaths. The punishments by the secular authorities soon followed. They burned effigies of three of the condemned Jews, who had died before judg¬ ment was pronounced, and tore the flesh of two others, an old man and his son, with hot pincers before burning them alive. The conversos, who pro¬ fessed repentance and asked for readmission to the Church, were strangled before their corpses were burned. In Avila, where the sentence was issued, one Jew was stoned to death by the populace, and preparations to attack the Jewish community were halted only by the timely intervention of the Kings. At the same time the Inquisition made public its sentence in all the cities of Castile and Aragon, with the obvious intent of arousing the people and moving the Sovereigns to proceed against thejews in the manner the Inquisi¬ tion had urged.9 It was not long before the Kings responded. On March 31, 1492, three months after they had entered Granada, they ordered the banish¬ ment of thejews from their kingdoms.10 Lea, who clearly saw the connection between the trial of the Holy Child of La Guardia and the expulsion of thejews from Spain, tried nevertheless to present the accusations as having some basis in fact, thus suggesting that the trial as a whole was not fabricated by the Inquisition. He wrote: Possibly some conversos may have sought to procure by means of sorcery immunity from the threatening dangers of the Inquisition, for

SIDELIGHTS

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AFTERTHOUGHTS

[I09I

it is not easy to set bounds to the superstitious credulity of the period, but it is extremely improbable, as Juce Franco pointed out in his defense, that Jews, who were not subject to inquisitorial jurisdiction, would have dabbled in such dangerous practice to shield conversos with whom they had no sympathy." It is not, however, “extremely improbable,” but utterly impossible for any Jew to have been associated with conversos in a magic conjuration wrought with a wafer and the heart of a Christian child. For no Jew attributed any power to the Host, whether consecrated or not, and no Jew would use it for a conjuration of any kind, with or without hearts of Christian children. Consequently, the assertions of conversos under torture that Jews had per¬ formed a conjuration with a Host to neutralize the Inquisition or to kill many Christians had no basis in fact, and could be made by them only in response to their torturers in order to end their intolerable pain. And since the evidence was fabricated regarding the Jews, it was inevitably fabricated regarding the conversos, too. Since no Jews made such a conjuration, no conversos could “assist” them in making it. Hence the outcry of one of the Jewish martyrs of that trial that the whole thing was the “greatest lie in the world.”12 Yet such a great lie could not have appeared of itself. Its structure was too large, too complex and too functional—that is, designed to serve a certain end—to have been built without an architect. That architect was the Inquisition. The Inquisitors naturally knew the truth, and so did the Sovereigns; so also did many others in Spain, like the historians Bernaldez and Alonso de Palencia, who chose to ignore the trial in their histories. No wonder the Kings acted like their chroniclers and refrained from including the “revela¬ tions” of the La Guardia trial among the reasons they gave for their order of expulsion. If the trial of the Holy Child of La Guardia influenced their decision to issue the order, the influence must be related to other aspects of that gruesome affair. The expulsion of the Jews from Spain was brought about by essentially the same factors that caused their expulsion from England and France and other places in Europe. It was caused by the completion of a historical develop¬ ment that began with the Kings’ support of the Jews against a popular opposition, which was originally minor, and ended with the withdrawal of the royal support when that opposition became intense and widespread, and assumed a revolutionary character. In Spain the kings’ support of the Jews lasted longer than anywhere else, but when Ferdinand and Isabella came to power, Jewish history in Spain had run its course. If the Kings listened to the Inquisition’s counsels and paid high regard to Torquemada, it was because they knew that Torquemada and the Inquisition represented a movement too

1092 ]

THE

ORIGINS

OF

THE

INQ.UISITION

strong to ignore and a popular sentiment too deep to trifle with. That sentiment, they felt, was ineradicable; it was bound to grow, with or without the Inquisition, and persistently demand satisfaction. Sooner or later, the Sovereigns realized, they would yield to this relentless demand if they did not wish to affront the masses and lose the popularity they enjoyed among them. Especially now, after the conquest of Granada, when they stood at the height of their prestige, content with their people’s unbounded admiration, they would not undermine that hard-won achievement by their continued protection of the Jews. Thus, they concluded that the best possible time to perform the unavoidable operation was the present; delay might cause them harm, and therefore should be avoided. Needless to say, none of these considerations appear in their “justification” of the edict of expulsion. In fact, the only reason they gave for this edict was that the Jews had been aiding the Judaizers and there was no other way to extirpate the heresy save the expulsion of the Jews from Spain. The reason bears the stamp of the Inquisition’s agitation, which provided the Sovereigns with a “noble” excuse for an ignoble action, and one finds it hard to take it seriously. Yet many historians accepted it unquestioningly as a valid explana¬ tion for the expulsion, and thus attributed the Sovereigns’ move to purely religious motives. Scholarship has often been misled by authority, but rarely to so large an extent. For what greater delusion could penetrate and distort the annals of mankind?

APPENDICES

A The Number of the Marranos in Spain

H

ow many Jews went over to Christianity in the mass conversions of 1391 and 1412? Scholars differ widely in answering this question, and their

estimates range from some tens of thousands1 to three hundred thousand “in the 15th century.”2 In The Marranos of Spain I presented the reasons for my conclusion that toward the end of that century, the number of New Chris¬ tians in Castile and Aragon was approximately twice as large as the latter figure.3 Among other things, I assessed the Marrano community in Seville in 1391 at some 25,000 souls and in Seville’s archbishopric at some 20,000 more4; and in the second edition of that work, I answered the arguments advanced by S. W. Baron against these estimates. I also added proofs to support my belief that ninety years later, when the Inquisition was founded, the Marrano community in the city of Seville was 40—45,000 strong, while in the archbish¬ opric it reached about 7o,ooo.5 My starting point in assessing the number of Seville’s Marranos was the testimony left us by Hasdai Crescas, the famous leader of thejews of Aragon. According to Crescas, “the majority of Seville’s Jews who numbered six to seven thousand households” (i.e., 30-35,000 souls) were converted during the riots of 1391.6 Crescas did not refer to the Jews of the archbishopric but to those of the city of Seville alone, and his statement seems valid for a number of reasons, including the great caution and accuracy he showed in all his other reports about the conversions of 1391. What is more, in response to the criticism of Baron, I cited an additional dozen sources in support of my conclusions concerning Seville. They have never been disproved, and it is hard for me to see how they can be confuted.

io95

APPENDICES

1096 ]

Nevertheless, J. N. Hillgarth seems to have ignored these testimonies and, referring to the evidence I cited from Crescas, dismissed it by asserting that “Crescas had no knowledge of.. . the number of Jews” in Seville.7 How the leader of the Jews of Aragon could be so uninformed about Sevillian Jewry, or so callous as to impart to the Jews of France worthless information on its “massive” conversion (which allegedly never occurred), Hillgarth does not explain. Perhaps in making the above remark he relied on Isidore Loeb, who questioned Crescas’ statement on the ground that the latter’s place of resi¬ dence (Saragossa) was “far” from Seville, and therefore he could have been unaware of the number of Seville’s Jews.8 Such an argument, however, might be considered valid for some small place in Castile, but not for such a great and famous community as Seville’s, with which the Jews of Aragon had many contacts, or for a man like Crescas, who must have been in touch with Castile’s Jewish leaders. Indeed Crescas, we may assume, had many sources at his disposal, from which he could acquire definite knowledge about the number of Jews in the chief Castilian cities. But I think we can bypass Loeb’s argument, and also refute Hillgarth’s assertion, by presenting the testimony of a Sevillian author who was un¬ doubtedly well informed of the size of Seville’s Marrano community. This was the historian Alonso de Palencia who, in one of his statements about the conversos, casts clear light on the question before us. In his Guerra de Granada, he writes: In 1481 the conversos began to flee from Seville as a result of the Inquisition. Among other excuses they used was the terrible plague which at the time was ravaging the city. The plague was such that it caused about 16,000 victims among them. Another such number escaped the punishment [of the Inquisition] through flight, so that the aspect of the city was the saddest and it appeared almost uninhabited.9

Palencia’s figures for the Marrano plague victims in Seville and the refugees from the harassed city form together an approximate total of 32,000 souls. Assuming that one third of Seville’s Marranos remained in the city despite the plague and the persecution (an assumption that would not be far-fetched), the Sevillian Marrano community at the time would have comprised about 48,000 people. But if so, my estimate of 40-45,000 for the Marrano popula¬ tion of Seville in 1481 appears to be fully confirmed, as does my conclusion that Seville’s converts in 1391 numbered some 25,000. Surely we cannot suppose that Palencia’s figures, too, were groundless or remote from reality. Unlike Crescas, it cannot be said of him that he lived “far” from Seville; for he lived in Seville for many years, and consequently there is no reason to assume that he did not know the number of Seville’s Marranos. Similarly, my

THE

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[1097

assessment of the number of conversos who fled Seville in 1482-83 (14,000),10 based on the number of deserted houses in Andalusia in the wake of their flight as indicated by Pulgar,11 is fully confirmed by Palencia’s account. Finally, Palencia’s statement that, following that exodus, the city of Seville looked “almost uninhabitated” suggests that the Marrano community in Seville formed a very large part of its population, probably some 40 to 45 percent of its total.12 But the question of the number of Seville’s Marranos is only part of a far broader problem. Much more important is the question of the size of the Marrano population in Spain as a whole, and here again my estimate is based, to begin with, on an item of information found in the sources—the 15th century chronicles of Zacuto and Arevalo, both of which give us the same number for the converts of 1391: “more than two hundred thousand.” To be sure, Loeb and Baer considered this number highly exaggerated and tried to reduce it to several thousands by suggesting corrections in the texts of the above chronicles.13 But, as I have shown, their emendations were arbitrary, conflict with certain indisputable data, and therefore cannot support their theory about the scope of the conversions of 1391.14 The theory, in any case, was virtually exploded when support for the numbers of Zacuto and Arevalo came from a newly discovered document: the estimate of the converts of 1391 given by Reuben ben Nissim Gerundi in September of that year.15 Gerundi speaks of 140,000 converts, a figure considerably lower than Zacuto’s, but as I pointed out, in September 1391 (only three months after the beginning of the riots), the author most likely did not possess all the relevant information and, in any case, “could not take into account those who left Judaism in the wake of the riots and therefore came also to be regarded as converts of ‘1391’.”16 Baron seems to have come close to this view. “Reuben’s figure,” he says, “probably was but part of the larger total of 200,000 converts cited by Abraham Zacuto in his Sefer Yuhasin.”17 The problem is thus really limited to the figure given by Zacuto and Arevalo for the converts of 1412. It is the identical figure: “more than 200,ooo”18; and because of this identity it of course appears questionable. Loeb avoided dealing with this estimate, while Graetz concluded that the persecution of 1412 resulted in “at least 20,000 forced converts.”19 Yet this conclusion cannot be accepted for a very simple reason. If we compare the lists of taxes the Jews of Castile paid the Crown in 1474 or 1482 with those they paid in 1291, we can see that the total sum for the later years was reduced to about a fourth of the earlier figure.20 What could have caused this great reduction? Obviously, either a drastic deterioration in the Jews’ economic condition or a sharp decline in their numbers through conversions. But if we rely on Abravanel’s statement regarding the wealth of Spain’s Jewry on the

1098]

APPENDICES

eve of the Expulsion,21 the former possibility must be excluded; and thus we must conclude that it was their massive conversion that brought about that great reduction of their taxes. Now, since the taxes had fallen to approximately a fourth of what they had been and since the number of Spain’s Jews during the Expulsion amounted to approximately 225-,000, we might assume that the number of Spain’s Jews in 1290 was at least several times larger. Indeed, according to Graetz, thejews of Castile alone comprised in 1290 over 800,000 souls,22 and although this assessment may appear to us excessive, his computation could not be alto¬ gether wrong. In addition, we ought to take into account the natural increase of Spain’s Jews between 1290 and 1391, as well as in the century following the great riots (i.e., between 1391 and 1492). Hence, even if the number of Castile’s Jews toward the end of the 13th century was considerably smaller than that indicated by Graetz, it seems obvious that a figure of 200,000 or 230,000 for the converts of both 1391 and 1412 would not cover the difference between the number of Spain’s Jews during the Expulsion and their number in 1290. Obviously, some other large figure, such as the one given by Arevalo and Zacuto for the conversions of 1412, could fill the gap. Yet the identity of the figure they give for 1412 with the one they indicate for 1391 stands in the way of its acceptance. Offhand, it would seem that Zacuto, who completed his chronicle in 1504, may have borrowed the infor¬ mation for 1412 from Arevalo, who composed his work c. 1487, and that the latter’s text was corrupted in the section dealing with the conversions in 1412. But this assumption must be rejected. A comparison of the parallel passages shows that Zacuto’s account contains data not found in Arevalo’s, and this leads us to the conclusion that Zacuto, like Arevalo, relied on an earlier source. If a copyist’s error must therefore be considered here, it ought to be related to the original version and not to Arevalo’s manuscript. Two ques¬ tions, therefore, seem to be involved: (a) Was the text used by the chroniclers corrupt or, conversely, presented the original version? and (b) Was that version based on reliable information? To answer this question, we must first summarize what we know about the conversions of 1412 besides what was copied by Zacuto and Arevalo from their common source. The only additional figures we possess relate to the converts made by Ferrer in the course of his missionary campaign among thejews in both Castile and Aragon. Contemporary estimates of the total of his conversions range from 15-100 thousand; and these include not only Jewish but also Moslem converts, as well as reformed Christian sinners.23 Thus, we cannot gather from these estimates how many Jews were converted by Ferrer. But what is important to note in this connection is that most of his campaign in Castile was over before the promulgation of the laws of 1412. And these laws

THE

NUMBER

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[1099

no doubt caused an influx of Jewish converts far larger than that caused by the preaching of Ferrer. The same may be said about Aragon. Ferrer’s missionary campaign in that country lasted much longer than it did in Castile; it was also assisted directly by the agitation conducted by the anti-Pope Benedict XIII, and it undoubt¬ edly had a more notable effect. But as in Castile, most conversions in Aragon must have resulted from the harsh anti-Jewish laws which were enacted in that kingdom, too (1413).24 Especially conducive to many conversions was the law that stipulated the removal of the Jews from mixed neighborhoods to boroughs of their own. Since no houses were provided for the expelled, many of them were driven out to the fields. The execution of the order was thorough and ruthless, and caused intolerable agonies to many of the ex¬ pelled. Solomon Alami, a contemporary author, described their condition in vivid terms: People who had been well protected in their homes were ousted from their dwellings to find shelter in caves. Others live in huts in summer and in winter, with hungry infants crying in the bosoms of their mothers, and with boys and girls dying from exposure to the cold and the snow.25

Alami wrote these words in 1415, more than three years after the laws of Catalina had been issued in Castile. The ordeal therefore remained un¬ relieved for a long time, and Zacuto tells us that these conditions persisted for seven years (i.e., from the beginning of 1412 to the end of 1418).26 We may wonder at the endurance of the expelled Jews who saw their children un¬ dergo such torments and still refused to surrender their faith. But we should also bear in mind that a whole people cannot consist of martyrs and heroes, and that the resistance of many must have broken down in the face of the continued hardships and tragedies. It would not be unreasonable to assume therefore that with the increase of the distress among the homeless Jews, the number of conversions also increased. In fact, the conversions produced by the law of 1412 forbiddingjews to live in mixed boroughs began shortly after the publication of that law, and even before it was actually enforced, as is evidenced by the testimony of Alvar Garcia de Santa Maria, the official chronicler ofjuan II. Writing in his survey for the year 1411 about the results produced by the laws of Catalina, he tells us that “many Moors and Jews were converted to Christianity in order not to have to leave their homesthat except for Seville, where the Jews got a reprieve with respect to their immediate departure, “many” of them turned Christian in "all the cities and towns of the Kingdom"(apparently before enforce¬ ment took place), while the enforcement of the segregation accelerated, in

I I o o ]

APPENDICES

some places, the process of conversion, and because of this, as Alvar Garcia states, “every day there were converted to Christianity both Jews and Moors. ”27 But conversions were produced also for another reason—perhaps no less compelling. While Garcia speaks of the housing problem as a major cause of the immediate conversions, Alami refers also to the economic strangulation effected by the laws of 1412. As he puts it: “The majority of the tax gatherers were converted when denied the right to farm and collect taxes; they knew no other profession from which they could derive a living.”28 But the upper social strata of the Jews were not the only groups that felt the crunch of the new order. “On account of the dryness [i.e., because all the sources of income were dried up], and the [resultant] pressing needs,” says Alami, “a part of the artisans were also converted; . . . they were cast down by these trials and tribulations and could not rise again.”29 Alami does not tell us how large that “part” was. But judging by the restrictions the laws of 1412 placed on Jewish industry and the sale of its products,30 we may readily assume that the “part” referred to was very large indeed. We must bear in mind also a third factor that undoubtedly swelled the wave of conversions. This was the hopelessness felt by Spain’s Jews in the wake of the enactments of 1412. In previous persecutions they had been able to turn for help to the king or the pope; but now both royal and papal governments appeared solidly united to effect their conversion. Apart from this, in other cases of repression, Jews had been allowed to depart from the country; the laws of Valladolid, however, forbade them to leave Spain, or even move from the king’s areas to those of the nobles. Appeal and escape seeming equally impossible, many Jewish communities, large and small, saw no sense in further resistance and capitulated almost to a man. Expressing the desperation pervading Spain’s Jewry, a Hebrew dirge writ¬ ten in those days says: “In 1412, the sky was covered with a cloud [so heavy] that it blocked the passage of any prayer to God. '31 And the same lament, which was probably composed somewhere in northwestern Castile, describes the havoc produced in the Jewish communities of that region following the issuance of Catalina’s laws. It mentions the calumnies, the agitation and the threats that accompanied the execution of those decrees “which were adamantly enforced until the Jews were converted.”12 Among the communities affected, the elegy mentions those of Zamora, Salamanca, Valladolid, Toro, Segovia, Avila, Benavente, Leon, Valencia,33 Astorga, Mayorga,34 Palencia, Paredes and Burgos.3S And what was true with regard to the communities of that region no doubt applied also to the other communities of Castile and, in large measure, of Aragon as well. Hence, judged by the number of conversions they caused, the laws of 1412 may have been demographically not much less disastrous to the Jews of Spain than the pogroms of 1391. For while most of the conversions of 1391 occurred in the places hit by the riots, those that

THE

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[iIOI

followed the laws of 1412—1413 occurred in all areas where these laws were in force, and this meant actually throughout Spain. No wonder Zacuto de¬ scribed the calamity of 1412 as the “greatest shemad [persecution accompanied by mass conversion] that had ever taken place. ”36 Thus, it seems clear that the figures given in some Christian sources for the number ofjews converted by Ferrer are too small to reflect the scope of the conversion that took place in that period among the Jews. Those figures referred only to the Jews (and Moors) who were converted under the influ¬ ence of Ferrer’s preaching during his visits in certain cities; they did not embrace the conversions effected in the numerous localities he did not visit or during the entire period of the persecution (1411-1418), which by far exceeded the short terms of his agitation even when put all together. Obviously, a much larger number, closer to the one suggested by Zacuto and Arevalo, would appear more realistic. There remains, however, the question of the precise identity of their figure for 1412 with the one they cite for 1391. Can this identity be explained by anything save a copyist’s error? Before we attempt to answer this question, we must carefully consider certain facts and probabilities. Despite the criticism justifiably leveled at medieval statistics, the Jewish communities of Castile and Aragon were constantly aware of their actual size. The collective taxes they had to pay annually necessitated frequent recounting of their members and reassessment of their possessions, and the strictness developed in this regard is attested by the decisions adopted in Saragossa c. 1280 and in Valladolid in 1432..37 Thus, while establishing its numerical strength, each community would occasionally calculate the losses it suffered from conversion. It transmitted this information to the country’s Jewish leadership (i.e., the Rab de la Corte and his officials), even if for no other reason than to explain its inability to meet a tax quota; and this information, assembled and combined, may have served that leader¬ ship in computing the conversion losses throughout the period of 1391-1418. Such a computation could be made, in our opinion, c. 1422 (that is, after the termination of the persecution), or perhaps as late as 1432 (when the Castilian Jewish communities met in Valladolid and took stock of the situa¬ tion). We must assume, however, that their calculations were not based solely on official communications. For their records must have been incomplete and marked by great lacunae. Many communities, whose public functions were disrupted by the massacres, the flight of their members and the conversions, could not supply the Jewish leadership of Spain more than scanty data, to begin with; and to fill the gaps in their information, the calculators unavoida¬ bly relied in many cases on unconfirmed notions and assessments. What was known for sure, however, about these communities was the number of their

110 2]

APPENDICES

Jews prior to 1391 and their number at the time of the computation. And taking these data into account, the calculators could make a reasonable assessment of the total number of Jews who went over to Christianity throughout the persecution of ijpi to 1418. It would seem that by means of such an assessment, they came up with a total of over 400,000, while the number of converts in each of the conversion periods of 1391—1398 and 1412-1418 remained inevitably unresolved. Conse¬ quently, they decided to divide the grand total into two equal halves, intend¬ ing thereby to give a general idea of the enormous scope of the disasters, and probably believing that by doing so they would not make too big an error. It was of course a rough and ready division, obviously inaccurate, but it may not have been too far from the truth. This is how the equality of the figures for “1391” and “1412” can possibly be explained. But much more important than these figures is, in our opinion, their total of “over 400,000.’’ Apart from the reasons indicated above, it gains credibility by its basic conformity to the figure given by Isaac Abravanel for the conversos in the 1490s: “over 600,000.”38 It conforms to this latter number because Abravanel’s figure no doubt included the natural increase of the conversos since 1391—that is, in the course of three generations.39 It also agrees with the high percentage of the Marranos in Spain’s city populations, as indicated by accounts such as those of Quirini, the Venetian ambassador to Spain in 1506,40 and the Polish traveler Nicholas Popielovo in 1485.41 Of course, the paucity of our data on the developments under review inevitably leads us to question the few we have. But questioning need not imply rejection. It should be noted that prior to the discovery of Gerundi’s figure for the converts of 1391,42 scholarly opinion was generally most skepti¬ cal—indeed, censorious—of Zacuto’s estimate for that year. In view of this, we should not be surprised if a similar discovery at some future date will likewise support a more positive evaluation of his figure for “1412.”

B Diego de Anaya and His Advocacy of Limpieza

T

he question of the beginnings of the racial policy of the College of San Bartolome in Salamanca cannot be settled without taking into consider¬

ation the printed versions of the bulls of Bendict XIII and Martin V authoriz¬ ing the founding of the college. Both bulls were published by Ruiz de Vergara in his biography of Anaya1 and later in the second edition of this work by the Marques de Alventos in his three-volume history of the college.2 Both bulls prohibit the acceptance of collegians who are not of “pure blood”—a definition that allegedly referred to Christians of Jewish origin. A. Dominguez Ortiz, who rightly judged the undated limpieza statute of the college to belong to Don Diego de Anaya, also took as genuine the papal confirmation of the limpieza policy as suggested in the two published bulls.3 This opinion, however, cannot be accepted for the following reasons: i) The printed version of Benedict XIII’s bull (dated Oct. 2,1414) contains the instruction that the collegians should be integrae famae et opinionis expuro sanguine procedentes, and the printed version of Martin V’s bull (dated May 4, 1418) likewise required the collegians to be puri sanguinis,4 Registered copies of these bulls are preserved in the Vatican archives5; and doubting the genuineness of the aforesaid Latin phrases, I examined those copies and can state with full assurance that they do not contain those phrases; nor do they include any other reference to “purity of blood.” Obviously, the versions reproduced by Vergara were not those of the original documents but copies to which the phrases in question were added (probably in the 16th century) by officials of the college. 2) It would have been unthinkable for Benedict XIII to endorse discrimi1103

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APPENDICES

nation against converts from Judaism at a time when Paul of Burgos was his mainstay in Castile and one of his chief aides and counselors in all major matters relating to the papacy. It is likewise extremely hard to believe that Martin V would adopt such a policy when he felt indebted to Gonzalvo, Paul’s son, for his position on his election as pope and when he, Martin V, knew that Gonzalvo, Paul of Burgos, and other conversos wielded an influ¬ ence not to be slighted in the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon. And why should these popes have issued such instructions? At the very time when Benedict XIII signed his bull concerning the College of San Bartolome, he was in the midst of a major effort to convert the Jews of Castile and Aragon and doing everything he possibly could to attract them to Christianity. We have no indication that either he or his successor, Martin V, departed, or was inclined to depart, from the age-old policy of the Church concerning con¬ verts, which called for their full and complete equality with all other Chris¬ tians. 3) Albert A. Sicroff thought that when the bulls were issued (i.e., in 1414 and 1418), the “purity of blood” phrases referred to did not convey the racial meaning that they came to signify in later generations. In this, as we shall see, he was right. But Sicroff also believed that in the latter sense, the term was not employed before the 16th century6; and in this he was doubtless wrong. The satire composed in 1449, farcically discussing an imaginary privilege given by Juan II to an Old Christian hidalgo, speaks of Marrano physicians who kill their Old Christian patients and then marry the latter’s widows “para ensuciar y mancillar la sangre limpia." And when Marcos Garda de Mora says of himself that he has the “appearance of a pure Old Christian” (gesto de christiano viexo, limpio), he too may have referred to his “purity of blood.”7 Nevertheless, it is true that for most of the century the common term used for “pure Old Christians” was “Christianos viejos Undos' (not limpios).8 Sicroff thought that the “purity of blood” phrases found in the printed texts of the bulls 'were included in the original documents, but that in the 16th century, with the growth of the limpieza movement, the bartolomicos, who wished to show their priority in practicing limpieza in the colleges of Spain, “attached themselves” to the aforementioned expressions in the bulls, to which they ascribed the meaning which they had in their time (that is, in the 16th century).9 The popes of the early iyth century, however, had something else in mind. Sicroff conjectures that by “pure blood” the popes indicated legitimate birth,10 and believes to have found support for this conjecture in Jose de Rujula’s assertion that the colegios mayores were established exclusively for poor students.11 On the basis of this, Sicroff assumes that the colleges were inclined to admit as collegians also “foundlings or children of uncertain

DIEGO DE ANAYA AND HIS ADVOCACY OF LIMPIEZA [ IIOJ

parents” and that the popes (i.e., Benedict XIII and Martin V) were opposed to that tendency.12 SicrofFs conjecture may be rejected, first, on the grounds that the term in question is missing in the registered copies of both bulls (thereby excluding the possibility of an error). But it is untenable for other reasons, too. In the beginning of the 15th century, limpio sangre signified noble descent, or rather noble blood that remained unaffected by plebeian or other deleterious ad¬ mixtures.13 Benedict XIII, who was a Spaniard, certainly knew that the people in Spain would understand by “pure blood” noble origin, and Martin V knew that, too. It does not seem likely that they wished to establish a school for sons of nobles only. However, if they had something else in mind—such as refusing college admission to those who lacked legitimate birth—they would have said so in terms precluding misconception.14 In brief, Sicroff is probably right in assuming that in the 16th century, with the growth of the limpieza movement, the bartolomicos were anxious to dem¬ onstrate the “antiquity” of the statute they had enacted against the conversos; but to prove this they did not “attach themselves,” as he suggests, to the term puri sanguinis (or expuro sanguine), allegedly found in the bulls, which could not possibly contain it, but added these terms to the original texts (as indicated above, § i). It seems exceptionally audacious for the authorities of a school devoted to religious studies to make such interpolations in papal bulls; and it is certainly an unwelcome task to suggest that this is just what they did. Perhaps this is why Sala Balust15 and Gaztambide,16 who no doubt noticed that the crucial phrases were absent in the copies of the Vatican register, pass in silence over their presence in the texts printed by Ruiz de Vergara. But the facts we have pointed out, and the arguments we have presented, cannot, in our judgment, be disregarded. They force us to acknowledge the unpleasant truth.

c When Did Sarmiento Leave Toledo?

T

he date of Sarmiento’s departure from Toledo raises a question that so far has not been satisfactorily settled. The annals of the period suggest

two dates: November 1449 and February 1450. Is either of them correct, and if so, which? The date of November 1449 is clearly indicated by the Cronica de Juan II. Here we are told that Prince Enrique came to Toledo at the “beginning of November” (1449) and that, after the welcome celebrations, which lasted eight to ten days, he “requested” Sarmiento to give up both his command of the alcazar and his position as chief judge.1 Sarmiento, according to this account, consented, and shortly thereafter the alcazar passed, at the Prince’s order, to Pedro Giron. Then, the same cronica adds, a “few days later,” Don Lope de Barrientos informed Sarmiento of the Prince’s “will” that he also leave Toledo, to which Sarmiento reluctantly agreed, after some argument.2 He would ask the Prince, he said, for an exit license and “leave this night (esta noche) with all my possessions.” This is indeed what he did.3 It is clear that, according to the timetable of events recorded in the Cronica dejuan II, Sarmiento left Toledo about the middle of November. Can we find support for this timetable in any other source? The compiler (or editor) of the Cronica de Juan II probably based his conclusion on the Halconero, whose account he followed at the beginning of his narrative—that is, from the Prince’s departure from Segovia to Sarmiento’s surrender of his Toledan positions. But the Halconero's account of the “sur¬ render” is curtailed. It begins with the first approach to Sarmiento immedi¬ ately after the welcome celebrations, and proceeds to report Sarmiento’s 1106

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consent to relinquish his military and judicial posts; it omits the intermediate occurrences, including the Prince’s departure from Toledo for Requena, his return to the city after a few days, and his actions against Garcia and his friends. Thus the reader may assume that Sarmiento “surrendered” his positions immediately after the Prince had first approached him in this matter—or, more precisely, soon after the welcome celebrations.4 No doubt the compiler (or editor) of the cronica believed this to have been the case. This misunderstanding by the author (or editor) of the Cronica de Juan II led to misconceptions concerning the date of Sarmiento’s departure from Toledo. The Halconero, who notes very briefly, as indicated, Sarmiento’s “resignation” from his posts, says nothing about the order the Prince gave him (following that resignation) to leave the city, or about the talk that Lope de Barrientos had with him on this matter. The Cronica dejuan II, which gave a detailed account of that talk,s must have taken that information from some other source—perhaps an ampler version of the Halconero, or the one that was revised by Barrientos and is known as the Refundicion.6 In any case, the Abreviacion of the Halconero touches briefly on these facts (i.e., the order of expulsion and Barrientos’ talk), and one may gather from it that these occurrences followed closely Sarmiento’s transfer of his authority to the Prince. What is more, the Abreviacion alludes to the date of the talk between Barrientos and Sarmiento: “Wednesday, the 17th of the month of... 1449 ”7 Since the month was not specified, the compiler (or editor) of the Cronica de Juan //concluded that it must have been the month of November. After all, the talk took place “a few days” after Sarmiento gave up his positions, and the latter event happened, as he came to believe, in the month of November. Now, Benito Ruano, who noticed the above data concerning the date of Barriento’s talk with Sarmiento, established that these data could only fit the month of December, and thus departed from the Cronica s view that Sarmiento left Toledo about the middle of November.8 In this departure he was of course right. On the other hand, he accepted the Cronica s assertion that Sarmiento left Toledo, as he put it, esta noche—i.e., on the night of the day of his talk with Barrientos; and so he concluded that the date of Sarmiento’s exit from the city was December 17, 1449.9 That conclusion, however, appears to us erroneous for the following reasons: 1. The Halconero states that Sarmiento left Toledo in February 1450.10 We see no reason to dispute this information in favor of the indications given in the Cronica, especially since the dates here offered by this document are clearly distorted and confused. 2. The detailed account given in the Cronica of the talk between the bishop and Sarmiento has all the earmarks of a tendentious story, which might have been produced by some admirer of Barrientos (in all likelihood,

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APPENDICES

a converse* author), if not by Barrientos himself, who may have been the editor of the revised Halconero—i.e., the Refundicion.11 The purpose of the story was to show the great effect that Barrientos’ talk had on the rebel, and the compiler of the Cronica may have read in his source that Sarmiento was prepared to leave Toledo “that night,” provided that the necessary arrange¬ ments were made. From this the compiler (or the editor) concluded that he actually left “that night,” which was another wrong conclusion he drew from the sources that were at his disposal. 3. The Cronica says that Sarmiento left “that night” with all the possessions he stole from the citizens packed on some two hundred beasts of burden.12 This does not seem possible. The dismantling of his large house in Toledo and the massing of his belongings in such a huge caravan would have required more than a few hours—i.e., the time between the conclusion of his talk with the Prince and his departure from the city (according to the Cronica). 4. Sarmiento could not give the bishop of Cuenca a definite promise to depart “that night” before he knew where he might find refuge. Evidently, he did not wish to see the Prince simply to get a permit to leave the city (such a permit was implied in the order to leave which was communicated to him through Barrientos), but also to obtain permission (1) to take with him all the possessions he had in Toledo, and (2) to settle in Segovia. Also, from what the Halconero tells us about the compensation the Prince promised Sarmiento and the conditions attached to that compensation,13 it is obvious that these conditions were negotiated; and such negotiations re¬ quired some time. No doubt there were also other matters that could not be taken care of in a rush. Sarmiento must have asked the Prince for the right to stay in Toledo a few more weeks in order to settle his affairs in the city. He must have also asked the Prince for the right to join him on his return to Segovia, so that he might be protected on the road from the King’s agents. This was the origin of the Halconero's statement that “in the month of February, the Prince left Toledo for Segovia, and took with him the said Pero Sarmiento, his wife and sons, as well as his entire fazienda.”14 The Halconero no doubt heard that the Prince had agreed to this arrangement, which was proposed by Sarmiento, and believed that it materialized. Actually, however, it did not. 5. On February 6, 1450, Don Fernando de Luxan, bishop of Sigiienza, published his “sentence” regarding the execution of Pope Nicholas V’s bull against the rebels. In it he directs all the cities of the kingdom, and especially the city of Toledo, that within a month of the publication of the bull, they take up arms against Pero Sarmiento, seize him and his associates, and keep them imprisoned “until the Lord king and the others who were hurt by them receive due satisfaction.”15 Benito Ruano, who noticed this instruction, might have considered it strange that it was made public after Sarmiento “had been

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absent from Toledo for months.”16 The formulation of this instruction, how¬ ever, may appear strange only if we assume that Sarmiento left Toledo on December 17 (as was assumed by Benito Ruano). It is not strange at all if on February 6 Sarmiento was still in Toledo. In fact, the sentence of Don Fernando may serve as another indication that Sarmiento did not leave Toledo on December 17. 6. He left Toledo in February, but not with the Prince—although judging by the Halconero, he had been assured of this. The reason for the change in the original plan was, in all likelihood, the publication of the “sentence” on the pope’s bull by Don Fernando de Luxan. The sentence made it most embarrassing for the Prince to associate with Sarmiento. He did not with¬ draw the safe-conduct he granted him and the promises he gave him regard¬ ing his possessions and his right to settle in Segovia, but he ordered him to leave Toledo at once, and go wherever he wished by himself. He did not want to appear as Sarmiento’s protector on the long road to Segovia.17 7. On February 20, 1450, a letter was received by the municipality of Burgos from the corregidor of Miranda de Ebro, requesting military aid to confront Sarmiento who, according to rumor, was approaching Miranda (where Sarmiento had one of his estates).18 Benito Ruano believes that the rumor was spread in wake of the departure of Sarmiento’s wife from Segovia to Miranda prior to his own flight from the city.19 This explanation appears reasonable. However, according to Benito Ruano, Sarmiento sent his wife to Miranda some two months after his arrival at Segovia (if he left Toledo on December 17), whereas according to our understanding, he sent her there shortly after they had reached Segovia, perhaps even before the Prince returned to the city. The reason for his decision to do so was, most likely, the change he noticed in the Prince’s attitude after the publication of Don Fernando’s sentence. Sarmiento was again seized with fear for his life, as the Cronica de Juan II attests.20 The Prince, it occurred to him, may one day arrest him in compliance with Don Fernando’s sentence, or in conformity with his agreement with the King, toward which he was ceaselessly working. Accordingly, he decided to send his wife, without much delay, to Miranda, and leave Segovia at the earliest opportunity. In any case, the date of February 20, on which news reached Burgos about his approach to Miranda, would tally with the information of the Halconero that he left February.

1 oledo in

D Juan de Torquemada

I. RACE AND THE JEWISH PEOPLE

W

e have seen that Torquemada systematically rebutted all the tenets of the Toledans’ race theory, culminating with his emphasis that the

Christian religion, for which “there is neither Greek nor Jew,” recognizes no difference of race among its followers, whatever their source. These rebuttals seem consistent with each other, as well as with the guiding principles of his thought; and had his reactions to the Toledans’ claims been limited to them alone, they would seem to form a cohesive counter-theory to that of the Toledans. Yet while censuring the Toledans’ views, Torquemada also argues that “no other race was more dignified, more noble, more saintly and more religious” than that of the Jewish people1; and while asserting that the Jews formed the holiest group of men, he also says that their tendency toward goodness was natural, while that of the gentiles was “unnatural” (or against their nature); and hence to attain the faith of Christ, the gentiles had to be grafted upon the Jewish trunk.2 It appears, then, that in contrast to the Toledan race theory, Torquemada presents a race theory of his own, in which moral inclinations are conceived as “natural,” and hence as inheritable dispositions (just as they are in the Toledans’ view), except that in his theory it is the Jews, and not the gentiles who are the source of real goodness and true faith. If Torquemada had been a superficial thinker, such contradictions might be understandable. But Torquemada was a meticulous logician, and the issue was central to his theological position and his view of the history of the Church; we cannot believe therefore that his statements on this subject were made lightly. Consequently, we assume that, in his own thinking, they were IIIO

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harmonized, or at least coordinated to the point of avoiding a blatant incon¬ sistency. Indeed, a careful study of his expressions on the subject will soon eliminate some of the discrepancies. To begin with, we should note that nowhere in his treatise does Torquemada say that moral qualities or tendencies were inherited in Israel through a biological process, such as is attributed to a racial transmission. When he says, for instance, that the Apostles “imitated” the faith of the Fathers,3 he obviously refers to a spiritual influence, which comes by instruc¬ tion or example. For had they received the faith by inheritance, they would not have had to “imitate” it; it would have sprung from within them. Simi¬ larly, when he said that the gentiles could adopt the moral and religious approaches of the Jews, he did not think of any other means of influence than instruction and inspiration, despite the “racial” terms he used. Obviously, the “grafting of the oleaster onto the good olive tree” was only a symbolic way of speech, for nobody suggested that the gentiles became Christian by racial intermingling with the Jews. It follows that when he says that the “Jews are more suited (habiles) for the good” and therefore more reparable for the faith,4 he referred to a condition acquired not by racial but by moral conditions, not by biological inheritance but by a spiritual heritage. The Prophets propagated their beliefs within their people, and thus the predilection toward good struck roots; it became “habit¬ ual” to the Jews, not as an innate quality, but as something deeply ingrained and entwined, hallowed by a long educational tradition and resembling in its impact a “second nature.” The moral inclination of the Jewish people, therefore, was not a racial property, which is inherited or inheritable; it was not a natural phenomenon, which, as such, is unchangeable. Torquemada must have realized this, for he recognized that certain sections of the Jewish people often deviated from the faith, were idolatrous, etc. But he also insisted that devotion to goodness was stronger in Israel than in all other peoples. And in this connection we must again touch on his view of the Jewish people as a race. For according to Torquemada, it was not only the inspiration of the Patriarchs, the Prophets and other holy men that was responsible for the Jews’ superior morality. The other cause was the Election. To be sure, Scripture attributes the Election to God’s special love for the fathers; but there must have been more to it than this alone, so that the full explanation of the Election remained, as the Apostle said, a mystery. Certainly, it was not the moral qualities or the conduct of the Patriarchs’ descendants—i.e., their merit—that earned them the choice and the title of God’s people; for their moral behavior was often deficient and, in any case, below that elevated status. Nevertheless, the very fact of the choice had greatly affected the people’s state of mind, for it made moral behavior and faith in their ranks incumbent upon

I I I 2 ]

APPENDICES

them far more than in other nations. This is why it was from the midst of this people that the “most sanctified humanity”—i.e., that of Jesus Christ—was destined to emerge; and it is in relation to the birth of Christ and the Election that Torquemada says that “no other race (generatio) was more dignified, more noble, more saintly and more religious in the world” than the Jewish people.5 Thus all these qualities, it must be clearly perceived, did not stem from the people’s original nature, but from God’s special will and imposition. “God has chosen you today”—Torquemada quotes Moses—“to be his pecu¬ liar people so that you should follow all His commandments and be holy to the Lord your God.”6 This thunderous moral imposition, together with the impact of the Law and the Prophets, had their expected effects. Israel became superior to all nations “in praise, and in name, and in glory.”7 But although it was superiority of the race, it was not a racial superiority. It was a divine prerogative, which earned the Jews far more respect than they might have gained if they had been endowed by nature. This is how Torquemada’s view of Israel’s position among the nations of mankind should be understood. Any other explanation, it seems, would lead us into insoluble contradictions and complications which would merely confuse his clear-cut statements as we have presented them above.

II. MORE ON THE JUDAIZERS

I

In addition to his basic statements on the Judaizers which were cited and discussed above, Torquemada made other pertinent remarks which can help us, we believe, gain clearer insights into his view on that issue. Exploring the subject from various angles and touching both actual and potential condi¬ tions, Torquemada offers us in these remarks a more rounded picture of the “Judaic” situation as it appeared to him in his time. Above all, he provides us with more direct answers to two crucial questions which he was no doubt asked: Are there any Judaizers among the conversos? And if so, do they reflect the inward attitude of the majority of the converts from Judaism? “Surely,” Torquemada says, “if those people [i.e., the Toledans] had spoken of particular cases, they could have been supported [in their claims], for we judge it to be true that some (aliqui) of the Jewish race who were converted to the faith were not, or are not, good Christians (non bonos fuisse aut esse christianos), but bad and even suspected in the faith, observing among themselves some ceremonies of the old law.”1 Any other judgment would indeed be unreasonable. “For the descendants of the Jewish race are not more privileged than the descendants of the races of the pagans, the Ishmaelites, the Saracens, or even the ancient Christians, among whom, under the name of Christians, were found the most criminal people: robbers (raptores), blas¬ phemers, sodomites, homicides, infidels, practitioners of simony, usurers and heretics.”2 From the types of the wrong-doers mentioned by Torquemada, and the word aliqui which he uses in this instance, we can gather that he believed the number of the Judaizers, whom he assumed to have existed among the conversos, to have been small, or rather insignificant. They were the freaks, the misfits, the scum of humanity, such as exist in every society and which no human group has ever been free of, even the early Christians. But this should not lead anyone to believe that the society in which they happened to be found—i.e., the society as a whole—consists of such elements. Espe¬ cially should Christians who descended from pagans beware of such general¬ izations. Their own histories, past and present, are full of examples of backsliders and heretics who have been punished and burned. “Even last year, in Fabriano, in the Marches [of central Italy], among 22 suspects of heresy who were caught, 9 were burned, and the others incarcerated, accord¬ ing to the measure of their iniquity.”3 Thus, while noting deviations from the faith that appeared in Christian

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APPENDICES

Europe in his time, he fails to indicate anything similar among the Spanish conversos. Evidently, no heretical movement has left a trail of activity among them to the point that it could not be ignored. Yet, he adds, “with these things occurring in different parts of Christendom (diversis hiis ergo sic se habentibus), we should not be astonished if some of the descendants of the Jewish race (again: aliqui de genere iudeorum descendentes), passing under the name of Christians, are in reality bad Christians, and should be deservedly so re¬ garded judging by their deeds.”4 All this, we must note, is stated by Torquemada not on the basis of established facts, but simply on the grounds of logical assumption. His trend of argument is clearly hypothetical: “If some of the conversos should be found to have transgressed, it should not surprise us.” But thus far, we must conclude from his own words, no demonstration has been proffered. Only general accusations have been advanced by the Toledans against the group as a whole, while the specific charges ofjudaic practices, leveled against indi¬ vidual conversos, were not substantiated in legal proceedings, properly fol¬ lowed in a court of law. This conclusion, which is clearly implied in all he said on this matter thus far, is further substantiated by the following remarks, with which he con¬ cluded this discussion. “If the said impious people,” he asked, “heard that some of the converts blasphemed Christ, or were observing Jewish rites, or exercising the abominable circumcision, why did they not proceed against them in accordance with the royal advice and the decision of the holy council, so that converts, censured by pontifical authority, might be called back to the dignity of Christian worship, and wherever they refused to emend themselves, be restrained by sacredotal chastisement?”5 The answer is that the accusers failed to do so—that is, to follow the “just procedures”— because they “were not moved by the spirit of God, or by zeal for the faith, but by an evil spirit.” They were “violently incensed by the flame of cupidity, which is the root of all evil,” so that “without prior admonition, without any judiciary order, with false attestations, supported by no authority, against the will of the king, and against the prohibition of their bishop, they proceeded not to recall the converts to the faith, but to exterminate and destroy them.”6 It is obvious that in Torquemada’s opinion, no judgment at all can be made about the Judaizers on the basis of the charges brought by such people. These charges must be held to be unproven; and it is doubtful that they had any basis to begin with. It stands to reason that the accusers had no evidence at all; for otherwise why did they use false witnesses and violate all the proper procedures? And how can one trust the statements of people with such base motives and such vile conduct? No wonder Torquemada preceded the ques¬ tioning that led him to his conclusion with an “if’ that implied a negation.

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II

Yet, while we cannot find in his treatise any evidence of the actual existence ofjudaizers in Spain (except the “general judgment” mentioned), we find in it evidence of the negative influence which the Toledan persecu¬ tion had on the conversos—in particular, on their attitude toward Christian¬ ityTorquemada compares that persecution to “a scorching wind which dam¬ ages the flowers in the garden.”7 “It is clear,” adds Torquemada (to leave no doubt in this matter), “that many who flourished in devotion to the faith from about the beginning of the conversion” are not strong enough to endure trials of this sort in the storm of such a persecution. Agitated and perplexed, and, above all, astonished that Christians could inflict such sufferings upon Chris¬ tians, they fall down from the flower of the faith (a fideiflore decidunt) and lose the pleasantness of the devotion to Christianity, while they are in danger of being condemned by those who persist in causing their ruin.”8 The above embodies an important testimony concerning the religious state of the conversos both before and after the Toledan riots. Torquemada speaks here of the “devotion to the faith” which could be seen almost since the beginning of the conversions, and he describes the religious condition of the conversos, prior to the Toledan outbreaks, as “flourishing.” But following these outbreaks, he does not hesitate to admit, their religious attitude under¬ went a change. Vexed by the fears, doubts and disappointments generated in their minds by the persecution, “many” of the conversos who had been ardent Christians “fell off from the flower of the faith,” which in no way means that they parted with Christianity, but it does mean that they lost their enthusiasm for being Christians (or, in his words, “the pleasantness of the devotion to the Christian religion”). This shows that a process of some unhealthy feeling, of some discomfiture and bewilderment, had begun to be noticed among the conversos under the impact of the Toledan occurrences. It also stands to reason that such a development might lead some conversos to desert Christianity and return to their former religion. This is, in fact, what Torquemada alludes to in a forecast of events under a protracted persecution. “Not only will many [outside the faith] be restrained from receiving the Christian religion, but many also of the newly converted will regret [their conversion], or become tepid in their love of the faith they had received. So what we have here is a description of the present coupled with a prediction of the future—a prediction which was meant to serve as a warning and a summons for the Church to take preventive action. In essence, this warning ofjuan de Torquemada regarding the impact of a protracted perse¬ cution is identical with that voiced by the Relator in his “Instruction” to Barrientos. Both foresaw a halt to conversion from Judaism and considerable

111 6 ]

APPENDICES

defection among the harassed conversos, but both made it clear that the Toledan outrages had so far not produced a movement ofjudaizers, or even the beginning of such a movement. Regardless of what happened, both were still certain that the conversos remained, as they were, “Christ’s faithful,” “believers in the Gospel and its obeyers,”10 and that their camp, while shaken, was still distinguished by its religious purity and devotion to the faith.

III. ON THE RELIABILITY OF TORQUEMADA’s TESTIMONY CONCERNING THE CONVERSOS

A Spanish scholar, Nicolas Lopez Martinez, who seeks to justify the activities of the Inquisition on the grounds that it came to uproot a wide¬ spread heresy, finds it difficult to accommodate this view of his with the evidence offered by Torquemada. An admirer of Torquemada the scholar, the canonist and the fighter for pristine Christian values, Lopez can in no way assume that the Cardinal was saying what he knew to be untrue. Is it not impossible, then, Lopez asks, that Torquemada was ignorant of the true facts because of his long absence from Castile and that the information he received while writing his treatise was defective and misleading?1 Lopez is obviously attempting to explain the Cardinal’s statements about the Marranos in a way that would not hurt the position which he, like so many other scholars, took on the issue in question. His proposed explanation, however, cannot be supported for the following reasons. Except for the seven years of his stay abroad (mostly in Paris), Tor¬ quemada lived in Spain until 1431—that is, until he was 43 years old. His life until then practically coincided with the first four decades of converso existence (1391-1431). If we assume that Torquemada judged the Marrano situation in 1449 (when he wrote his treatise) on the basis of what he knew it to have been in 1431 (when he left Spain), we must conclude that, in the first 40 years that passed since their conversion (1391—1431), the conversos have reached the state of assimilation that he ascribes to them in his cited treatise. It may be reasonably assumed that the longer the conversos stayed Christian, the deeper their assimilation became, and therefore what happened in the subsequent years—from 1431 to 1449—was not likely to have moved the clock back. In fact, all the evidence we possess shows that converso assimilation proceeded at the same or a quicker pace at the time, and we may also conclude that converso Christianization increased rather than diminished in that period.2 If so, Torquemada’s view of the conversos’ Christianity—as expressed in his treatise against the Midianites—may be taken as moderate rather than exaggerated, and consequently there is no basis to suggest that his statements were not well founded. It would similarly be wrong to assume that Torquemada (considering his stature, position and connections) was so completely detached from Spain that he lacked reliable information on what was going on there (especially respecting the Marrano situation, which was of interest to him and concerned him personally). No doubt he was in touch with old friends, who kept him abreast of the developments in his homeland, and particularly in 1 oledo,

111 8 ]

APPENDICES

where for many years he held his last position in Spain as prior of a leading Dominican convent. Furthermore, in the Council of Basle he must often have met with members of the Spanish delegation (who included both Old and New Christians) and probably discussed with them the converso problem, at least prior to the Council’s decision on converts of September ij, 1434. Then, two years later (in 1436) he visited Castile as papal legate, and on that occasion he could get a direct glimpse of the conditions that obtained there, which are pertinent to our problem. In brief, there is no reason to assume that Torquemada was unaware of the Marrano situation when he wrote his treatise. Indeed, his statements and analyses show that he spoke of that situation with the certainty of one who was fully aware of all its aspects. Seeking to explain Torquemada’s statements on the Marranos by another extraneous cause, Lopez advanced another hypothesis: “Was it merely a desire to please the king or to attend to certain recommendations?”3 But such an explanation appears no more plausible than the one we have just dis¬ carded. Would a man like Torquemada have so fiercely attacked the Toledan rebels for their views on the Marranos merely to please the king or support some recommendations, even if he was not at all sure that these recommen¬ dations were correct? Could his passionate refutation of the Toledan claims, and the depth of conviction which it clearly reflects, be explained by such external reasons? Had his work been written merely to please the king or some other friendly and respected individuals, it would no doubt have a different character in content as well as in form. Lopez, who realizes that the above conjectures cannot “duly” explain Torquemada’s position—that is, his strong and unqualified objections (“cerrada opposition ") to the anti-Marrano party’s point of view—falls back, reluctantly, on the last alternative: “Perhaps we shall gain more light if we revise the genealogy of the famous Cardinal?”4 Lopez, who, in his admiration for Torquemada, calls him “one of the glories of our race”5 (i.e., the Spanish race), is obviously reluctant to follow this line of research. He would cer¬ tainly regret to arrive at a conclusion by which the “glory” would have to be shared with another race, which is not particularly admired by him. As we have indicated, we fully agree with Lopez’ latter assumption; we see it sufficiently attested by the documents; and we cannot conceive of Tor¬ quemada’s treatise except as one composed by a converso author. But this would not explain what Lopez would regard as Torquemada’s “erroneous view” of the Marranos. It would explain his wrath over what happened in Toledo and his ire against those who were responsible for those happenings; it would explain certain parts of his theological position and his defense of the besmirched Jewish people—a defense which no Old Christian of that century would be prepared to shoulder; and it would explain his view of the outstanding role which the Jews had played in the history of man-

JUAN

DE

TOR Q^U E M A D A

[ III9

kind—a role which Old Christians of his and later times would tend to overlook or minimize; but it would not explain a contravention of the facts with respect to the conversos’ religious probity. For dedicated as he was to the cause of Christianity and to the struggle against heresies wherever he found them, Torquemada would not have minimized the scope of a Judaizing movement among the conversos, if such a movement had indeed existed to any appreciable extent; nor would he have shown that firm opposition to the claims of the Marranos’ critics. However apologetic he would have liked to be in favor of his attacked kinsmen, he would not have ignored the heretical crimes, as well as the faults and failures of his group. Rather would he have courageously exposed the conversos’ shortcomings and failures, and demanded their return to the right path, while he might have chided the opposition for its excessive zeal and lack of consideration for the conversos, who might have needed more time to be integrated in Christendom. Torquemada, however, not only vindicated the Marrano group as a whole, but fiercely denounced its opponents, without giving them the slightest justification. Far from being a professional apologist, Torquemada would not have taken such an attitude unless he was com¬ pletely certain of his facts. The value of any testimony depends on the extent to which its bearer can discern and present the truth; and this depends on his capacity to make correct judgments and his courage to pronounce these judgments in public, especially when they are unpopular. It involves the measure of his respect for truth and, above all, his xc^-respect—that is, the extent to which he cared about how he would be judged by his own and future generations. By these standards, Torquemada’s testimony must be given the highest credibility. When he wrote his paper on the outbreak against the conversos, he was Cardinal of St. Sixtus and a member of the Roman curia. Behind him was a most distinguished record of battles against religious deviations in Christen¬ dom which earned him the reputation of an expert in these matters, as well as of a dauntless fighter for truth—the truth of Christianity as he understood it. Was he going to risk this hard-won reputation and involve himself in the defense of “Jewish” heretics, who could be found, according to their critics, in almost every corner in Spain? Would he pass in silence over such a widespread evil, or look for excuses to defend the heretics against the in¬ furiated Old Christians who, even if they had followed wrong procedures, were right in their main accusation? And would he commit such a great blunder as to praise the culprits to high heaven while furiously attacking the true defenders of Christianity? And even if he had been tempted to do so, whom would he have fooled by such behavior? Would not the facts, and the contrary evidence, fly in his face and expose his folly, prove him to be untruthful, irresponsible, and unconcerned with the harms done to the faith?

I I 2 O ]

APPENDICES

It seems, therefore, that unless Torquemada was convinced of the plain righ¬ teousness of his position, he would not have taken the stand he took. Selfinterest, if nothing else, would have kept him from making such a wrong move. But this brings us to the next question that must be tackled in this connection. Assuming that Torquemada thought he knew the facts and was certain of his statements, could he not have been mistaken? What, after all, was the nature of the information at his disposal? There were no reliable statistics in Spain at the time; there were no public polls, secret or open; there were no probes made by the conversos to establish the attitudes of the members of their group toward either Judaism or Christianity. On what then could he rely? The only possible answer is, of course: on the views prevalent among the conversos. But this raises another question. Torquemada, as we have seen, sharply denounced the “notoriety” of the conversos’ unfaithful¬ ness—the “notoriety” on which the Old Christians relied. He insisted that no bad reputation spread about an individual or a group can replace facts proven by reliable witnesses in a properly conducted court of law. Yet did he not himself base his judgments in this matter on some general opinion, some publica fama, except that this opinion stemmed from different sources and was favorable rather than disparaging? To what extent can we rely then on his assertions—not from the standpoint of what he believed in, but from the standpoint of objective truth? Here we come to the crux of the problem that confronts us in assessing such a testimony on the conversos as the one offered by Torquemada. How could Torquemada know what he said about the Marranos, about their religious views, attitudes and preferences? The answer is: He knew it because he was one of them, because he lived with them and communicated with them and had direct knowledge of their views and tendencies. No outsider can judge with such certainty a group’s stand on any of its crucial issues as one who belongs to the group himself, especially when the group involved is surrounded by a hostile environment. This is that particular awareness of things which comes from within, from being part of the community, from contact with its members and admired leaders in whom one develops implicit trust. No Jew has investigated the activities of all his fellow Jews and estab¬ lished, by his own inquiry, that Jews do not use the blood of Christian children for religious purposes. Yet every Jew would instantly be ready to swear, whenever such accusations were made, that they were groundless lies, without a shred of truth, concocted by evil or foolish people. That is the knowledge that comes from one’s belonging to the party involved, from having been inside that party—a knowledge more reliable than all the hun¬ dreds of inquiries that can be conducted by outsiders. It was the certitude created by that kind of knowledge that inspired Torquemada’s statements.

JUAN

DE

TOR Q_U E M A D A

[ I I 2 I

Because of these considerations, we ought not to take the view that had the evidence we find in the Treatise been given by an Old Christian cardinal, we might regard it as more reliable. Had Torquemada been a full-fledged Old Christian, the question “How did he know?” could be asked with greater justice. He might have been influenced by some of his Marrano friends, who misled him with erroneous information, or he could have been inclined to act upon the information of some other people whom he considered trustworthy, and yet could be wrong in this particular instance. Such criticisms could be leveled against him, and rightly so, because he would have lacked the intimate knowledge that comes from direct experience and inward group awareness of the facts. In brief, we believe that Torquemada’s evidence is more reliable precisely because he was, and considered himself, a converso, and not just a “friend” of the Marranos at court.

E The Gibraltar Project

I

n the first half of August 1474, only four months before the death of King Enrique and the assumption of power by Isabella and Ferdinand, several thousand conversos left Seville for Gibraltar with the aim of settling in that newly captured place.1 Most of them were refugees from Cordova, the others Sevillians who, fearing outbreaks against their group, sought safety for them¬ selves and their families. Their hope of finding safety in Gibraltar was based on a plan for Marrano settlement in that town which was negotiated, and agreed on, with the lord of the place, the Duke of Medina Sidonia. The idea was born among the Cordovan conversos after the riots of 1473 and was sponsored by one of their leading members, Don Pedro de Cordova, who was distinguished, as Palencia put it, by his “dignified countenance, charming conversation and affability in dealing with people.”2 Searching for a place where they could live in peace, free from the threats of hostile neighbors, they thought of Gibraltar, recently captured from the Moors. Sparsely populated, the town could be settled by thousands of conversos, who might soon become the overwhelming majority there and thus be masters of their own fate. To get the Duke to agree to their plan, the conversos offered to cover the cost of a garrison and to participate in the town’s defense. But they insisted that the governor of the fortress should be their own Pedro de Cordova. Palencia tells us that the counselors of the duke advised him to decline the conversos’ offer. “They claimed,” he said, “that the New Christians are inept to maintain the security of such a great town, and pointed out the necessity that those who wish to live there be well qualified to organize and participate 1122

THE

GIBRALTAR

PROJECT

[ 112 3

in terrestrial and maritime expeditions, indispensable for the defense of a city so exposed to the dangers of war.” They added that those “timid people, accustomed to soft life and generally dedicated to low occupations such as those of shoemakers or moneylenders, would be of no use to garrison the place.” Moreover, the “Andalusian conversos,” they argued, “are rightly considered infamous, because, dedicated as they are to theirjudaic rites, they rarely follow loyally the Catholic religion, which fact was the cause of their main misfortunes. Nor would it be reasonable to hope for a favorable change [in their attitudes] if they came to dwell in such a fortified city, because, once separated from the Old Christians, they would dedicate themselves to the most depraved lawlessness which they would consider licit whenever they desired it. He who will give occasion for such license will, therefore, not be free of guilt.”3 These opinions of the Duke’s counselors echoed the notions that were shared at the time by numerous Old Christians of all classes, especially of the South, which, following the riots in so many towns, was swept by anticonverso agitation. The Duke, however, ignored his counselors’ advice and entered into serious negotiations with the conversos concerning their settle¬ ment project. According to Palencia, what moved him so to act was the expectation of the funds he was to get from the conversos; but he may also have been impressed with the plan presented to him by Pedro de Cordova. According to Pedro’s plan, the fortress of Gibraltar, then a mere military outpost, was to become a great, prosperous town thanks to the many thou¬ sands of conversos who would flock to it from all parts of the country. As such it would become also a more powerful defense position and a great source of revenues. As for the anti-converso charges, Pedro dismissed them as mere fabrications. If the conversos were to settle in Gibraltar, he said, “they would palpably demonstrate there, with their honorable conduct and Catholic prac¬ tices, that the Catholic religion is observed among the conversos much better [than among others]; that their being judged timid was merely a result of their natural inclination toward peace; yet if some danger threatened Gibral¬ tar, soon would the Old Christians see how strong was their loyalty to the [Catholic] faith and how well they knew to face the risks of war.”4 Thus, like the Relator facing the charges of the Toledans, Pedro de Cordova, facing the charges of the Andalusians, insists on the conversos’ loyalty to Christianity, their honorable attachment to the Catholic religion, and their steady observance of its rites. Such definite, unqualified statements could be made by the conversos, when such damaging accusations were leveled against them, only if they had a strong basis in fact. There is not a trace of an apology here for any religious misconduct or transgression, or the slightest admission that any group of conversos deviated from the right path. Instead we note in Don Pedro’s assertions a firm denial of guilt, an un-

11 2 4 ]

APPENDICES

reserved declaration of faith, and an emphasis on the error the Old Christians were making in judging the conversos to be infidels. We shall see to what extent this position can be justified by the additional evidence provided by Palencia concerning the Gibraltar project. Despite all of Pedro’s arguments, however, the Duke withheld his decision. Perhaps he was angling for better terms, or perhaps he was, at last, influenced by his counselors, who kept producing arguments against the venture. Thus, they claimed, the Marranos may have planned to use Gibraltar as a station on the way to Egypt and Jerusalem.5 The Duke no doubt presented all these arguments to Pedro, who knew how to refute them. According to the agreement that was finally concluded, the Marranos were to maintain a cavalry force in Gibraltar at their own expense and at no cost to the Duke. While the Duke was to collect annually 5,000 doblas from the ship captains and the royal tax collectors of Seville, he would have to pay in the first two years only 1,000 doblas a year for “guarding the place and sustaining the Christians who reside near the walls [of Gibraltar].” The governor of the town was to be Don Pedro, “certainly a man of an ingenious mind (vivo ingenio) and recognized skill”; and, in the early period of the settlement, he was to manage the town’s public affairs and elect its councilmen (regidores).6 Palencia calls the agreement “dishonorable” because in his opinion, the Duke, who was moved only by avarice, sold the conversos his “false humanitarianism at a very high price.”7 He took advantage of unfortu¬ nate men, who yielded to exorbitant financial demands and other unfair exactions, only because they were struck with fear, were in desperate need of a haven, and had no choice but to yield to his rapacity. Nevertheless, the Marranos obtained two important concessions: the Governor of the fortress was to be their man, and it was he who would elect the councilmen. They assumed that they were going to lay the basis for their future control of the government of a city—of course, under the overlordship of the Duke. It is evident that the settlers in Gibraltar had abandoned the old Marrano dream of convivencia with the Old Christians under the existing conditions. To live in the Christian cities as minorities—however numerically strong and influential—meant to expose themselves to the constant danger of mas¬ sacre and spoliation. They could live with the Old Christians only in places where they were the overwhelming majority, as they would be in Gibraltar, and even there they would not be safe from molestation unless the govern¬ ment was in their hands. These, then, were the two essential conditions for the solution of the Marrano problem—majority and self-government. The Gibraltar settlement was to serve as a pioneer project—a model for that envisaged solution. There can be no doubt that these ideas, as well as the prospect of unmo¬ lested life, lured not only the Cordovans to Gibraltar but also many Sevillian

THE

GIBRALTAR

PROJECT

[1125

conversos who had not experienced the ordeal of mass massacre, pillage and destruction. Thus, a considerable number ,of them, especially among their wealthier members, decided to move to Gibraltar together with the Cor¬ dovans. Many families went by ship; the majority went on foot (2,000) and others on horseback (350). On August 15,1474, most of them entered the city, which was in “great need of seasoned soldiers as well as of shoemakers and other artisans.”8 Plans did not work out as expected. The first setback took place when a maritime expedition sent by the Marranos against an enemy position was beaten back with considerable losses. The second resulted from internal disagreements that developed among the settlers. The Sevillians fell out with the Cordovan Marranos and returned to Seville. But the Cordovans stuck it out.9 After overcoming the initial difficulties, Palencia tells us, they “per¬ suaded themselves of the need to accommodate themselves to the new circumstances, and from day to day added more courage under the sure direction of the governor, who incessantly advised them of the practice of the good.”10 No practice could be hailed by Palencia as “good” if it did not include observance of Christianity. Had a practice of, or a tendency toward Judaism been noticed among the conversos in Gibraltar, and had reports to this effect been circulated by Christians (to begin with, by those who lived in the fortress), it would have undoubtedly been made much of, and Palencia would have mentioned it as proof that the Duke’s counselors had been right. Palencia’s detailed account, however, contains only indications to the con¬ trary. Despite this, the converso settlers in Gibraltar continued to be censured by the Duke’s counselors. As no evidence was offered of their alleged Judaic practices or of their intention to go to Jerusalem, the counselors of the Duke felt the need to explain why their prognostications had not materialized. Now they said that both the passage to Jerusalem and the performance of Jewish rites would come later—that is, “once they [i.e., the conversos] become masters of free navigation.”11 In other words, if the conversos had thus far failed to go to Jerusalem and, in addition, concealed their Judaism, it was because they were not yet in control of the sea lanes—presumably because of the war between Portugal and Spain. When passage from Gibral¬ tar became easy, they would doubtless follow their two nefarious goals. For then they would be able to escape. It is hardly necessary to point out the groundlessness of these charges. Palencia tells us that the converso settlers of Gibraltar had spent all their savings there, so that their remaining means could barely suffice for their sustenance. Apart from having been “obliged to' cover the cost of building new homes, as well as the expense of maritime expeditions and the transport of expensive provisions,” they had to pay for the maintenance of a cavalry

112 6]

APPENDICES

force, and consequently “their resources were exhausted.”12 Would any person in his right mind make such investments in a place he planned to leave at the first opportunity? Obviously, the Marranos had come to Gibraltar to stay. Relying on the promises of the Duke, they invested in the place all they had with the aim of establishing a home there for themselves; and they were already beginning to reap the fruit of that investment (or, as Palencia said, “to recompense themselves”) when the Duke, as we shall see, ordered them out. Thus, the charges leveled at the Cordovan settlers remained, to say the least, unproven. This is why the Duke’s friends had to revise their accusa¬ tions against them from time to time, or exchange them for new accusations. Indeed, this is what they did during the last phase of the conversos’ stay in Gibraltar. The main objection they then raised against the settlers was that now, after the conversos had struck roots in Gibraltar, the “place could be considered as sold to Don Ferdinand” [i.e., the King] if the Cordovans will retain control of it; for “since they are so clearly inclined to his obedience, they would surely try to introduce—on the pretext that they owe fidelity to the Crown—some innovation that would be harmful to the Duke.”13 If we follow Palencia’s tale to its conclusion, we can clearly see that this political argument had no more merit than the religious ones. Far from having in mind any thought of betraying the Duke, Pedro de Cordova was then working on a plan whose materialization would have greatly enhanced the Duke’s power. He proposed the organization of a military expedition to capture Ceuta from the Portuguese. The Duke ac¬ cepted the proposal, sent five thousand troops to seize Ceuta, and while these were engaged in investing the place, he used the ongoing fighting as excuse to visit Gibraltar with a unit of choice cavalry, as if he were on his way to the battleground. Upon his arrival in Gibraltar, he insulted Don Pedro, who had obediently fulfilled all his wishes, stripped him of his rights, and ordered all conversos to leave town.14 What moved the Duke to behave so inhu¬ manely was, according to Palencia, only his conviction that the Marranos were impoverished, and that for a considerable time to come they would probably be unable to support his treasury.15 But in addition, it is not impossible that the suspicion planted in his mind by his counselors—namely, that he might lose the place to King Ferdinand—had much to do with his behavior. This was a prospect which he could consider plausible and may have frightened him to take the action he did. And what did the Cordovan conversos do when they were ordered to leave Gibraltar? Like the Sevillians who preceded them, they returned to their former homes.16 Not a single one of them was reported to have gone to Jerusalem.

F The Death ofEnrique IV

D

id King Enrique die a natural death, or was he a victim of foul play— more precisely, of poisoning? The question arises in the light of certain hints in Castillo’s account (which are otherwise hard to explain) and in view of the closeness of the King’s death to that of Pacheco. As if to dissipate such a suspicion, Palencia, Enrique’s enemy and critic, ascribes the King’s death to his “incontinent” eating and to “several intestinal attacks” he had suffered before the one that killed him.1 Castillo, however, in speaking of such “attacks” presents them clearly as irregular and as products of a condition that affected the King since the meal he had in the Palace of Cabrera on the Feast of Epiphany—that is, in the last year of his life.2 The last attack, which lasted two hours, also occurred after he had a meal3—a fact which may likewise have been mentioned by the chronicler as an allusion to repeated poisoning. But a stronger indication to this effect is given in Castillo’s loaded remarks on the visit that Ferdinand and Isabella paid the King during his first sickness. They pressed him, he tells us, to acknowledge his commitment regarding Isabella’s succession, but no peace could be established between them, as on both sides “many things were alleged which are dangerous to put down in writing.”4 What were the things which Castillo considered so perilous to reveal? Did the King accuse the Princes or their “friends” of an attempt to poison him? Did Castillo, who may have written the above words after the King had died, decline to expose himself to the new rulers’ wrath, and possibly to their punishment? In any case, it appears that Enrique then considered himself gravely threatened by the Princes, for Castillo further 1127

112 8]

APPENDICES

tells us that Pacheco, who “knew from what the King had informed him of all that had occurred5 tried secretly with the King to organize one night the capture of the Princes and their ally, Mayordomo Cabrera.6 G.-H. Gaillard, the 18th-century French historian, noted that “those who put obstacles to the satisfaction of Isabella’s fortune always died at a time very opportune for her.”7 This statement cannot be dismissed as a “malicious remark of a hysterical critic,” as some admirers of Isabella defined it, for it fits the relevant facts too well. King Enrique indeed died at an opportune moment for the Princess, when he was known to have been making every effort to marry his daughter Juana to the king of Portugal—an effort which, if crowned with success, would have ruined Isabella’s chances of succession. But this alone would not have provided a sufficient basis for the suspicion indicated. Enrique’s demise, however, occurred less than a month after Pa¬ checo expired under “mysterious” circumstances—or at least in circum¬ stances too “opportune” for Isabella to be readily regarded as sheer luck. He was then in Simancas, on his way back from Portugal, where he tried to persuade King Alfonso V to consent to marry Juana, and, as Palencia put it, he died “like his brother, the Master of Calatrava ... of the same infirmity—a repugnant and deadly abscess in the throat.”8 Pacheco’s sudden death at the most critical moment, coupled with the similarity of his final sickness to that of his brother, cannot fail of course to raise the suspicion of foul play in his case, too. Since he and the King worked closely together on the project of Juana’s marriage, the materialization of that project would not have been prevented had not the King been removed from the scene shortly after Pacheco’s death. Pedro Giron, Pacheco’s brother, died on May 2, 1466, on his way to Madrid, where he planned to force Isabella into marriage. He passed away, according to Palencia, “at a time when no pestilence took place; and among a multitude of healthy people, he alone suffered miserable death in conse¬ quence of an abscess in his throat.”9 According to the Cronica Castellana, he died as a result of esquinencia (i.e., quinsy), but the Cronica de Calatrava states that his physicians “could not diagnose the cause of his sickness” and that “great suspicion” was astir that certain grandees of the kingdom, who were discon¬ tented with that marriage, saw to it that he got some deadly poison.”10 And suspicion of poison also accompanied the demise of Alfonso, En¬ rique’s foster brother, whose death paved the way for Isabella’s assumption of the position of heiress to the throne. In this case, poisoning is hinted by Castillo, indicated by Valera, and unequivocally asserted by Palencia. Ac¬ cording to the latter, Alfonso fell ill on his way from Arevalo to the “lands of Toledo” after he had eaten a certain dish of which he was particularly fond. Following that he went to his bed without saying a word, and without getting out of it even once until he died five days later (on July 5, 1468).

THE

DEATH

OF

ENRIQ.UE

IV

[ 943 Valera, Memorial—Diego de Valera, Memorial de diversas hazahas, ed. Juan de M. Car¬ riazo, 1941 Zuniga, Annales—Diego Ortiz de Zuniga, Annales eclesidsticosy seculares de... Sevilla, 1617 Zurita, Anales—Geronimo Zurita y Castro, Anales de la Corona de Aragon, 1646

BOOK ONE

Historical Background The Jewish Question 1. See the text of the decree published by F. Fita, “La Inquisicion anormal 6 anticanonica, planteada en Sevilla,” in RAH, Boletin, XV (1889), 448-453. 2. The approximate date given above is based on the first Inquisitors’ dec¬ laration dated Jan. 2, 1481, according to which they were informed about a month earlier, after they had begun their activity in Seville, that some men and women had fled their places of residence for fear of the Inquisition’s judgments (ibid.). No precise date is available for the commencement of the Inquisition’s operations. 3. See the Kings’ decree of September 27 {ibid., p. 448) and the bull of Pope Sixtus IV of Nov. 1, 1478 (authorizing the establishment of an inquisition in Castile) which was incorporated in that

191—196. For the number of the Jews converted as a result, see my Marranos of Spain, 19732, PP- 238-248, 255-270, and below, pp. io95ff. 5. See T. Mommsen, Romische Geschichte, V, 1909, p. 519. 6. That Assyria’s deportations and exchanges of population served it not only to pacify rebel countries, but also bolster its rule in other conquered territories (with the aid of the exiles who needed its protection) was first pointed out by H. Winckler {Alttestamentliche Untersuchungen, 1892, pp. 97-107) and G. Maspero {The Passing of the Empires, 1900, pp. 200-201). Following the same methods of control and subjugation, Babylonia also used deportees to colonize undeveloped lands in its dominions, and hence the tolerable terms of settlement it granted to many of thejudean exiles (seejer. 29.

decree {ibid., p. 450). 4. For the anti-Jewish persecutions in that period, see below, pp. 116, 142—164, ”77

d~l)-

.

.

Under the cosmopolitan rule of Persia, the condition of these exiles

117

8 ]

NOTES

must have further improved, as indicated by S. Daiches {The Jews in Babylonia in the Time of Ezra and Nehemiah According to the Babylonian Inscriptions, 1910, p. 30 ff), though Daiches’ description of the exiles’ status (“The Jews were free citizens in a free land,” p. 30), which might have fitted Persia of the fifth century, was clearly an exaggeration for Babylonia of the sixth. More realistic was the summary of E. Klamroth who pointed out the special burdens and restrictions to which various groups of deportees were subject {Die jiidische Exulanten in Babylonien, 1912, pp. 32-41). Of the later scholars who dealt with this subject, see E. Kaufmann {History of Israel’s Religion [Hebrew], IV-i, 1967, pp. 12-14), J. Klausner {History of the Second Temple [Hebrew], I, p. 65-74), an3i-i37)3. Guided by the principle that “wo association is possible between the faithful and the infidel”, the Council of Elvira went as far as imposing the penalty of excommunication on Christians who accepted Jewish blessings on their agricultural yield (canon 49) or took meals in common with Jews (canon 50). This was the first time that the prohibition to eat in the company of Jews was decreed in Christendom, and only after a century and a half (from 465 on) was it enacted by other Christian Councils. For the canons of Elvira, see Gonzalez-Tejada, II, pp. i8ff. 4. For the anti-Jewish laws in the Theodosian Code that passed into Alarich’s Breviarium (the Gothic code assigned for the conquered population), compiled in 506, see J. Juster, “The Legal Condition of the Jews under the Visigothic Kings” (transl. from the French edition, 1912, with an updated annotation by A. M. Rabello), in Israel Law Review, XI (1976), pp. 259-261. Juster noted that the number of statutes concerning Jews in the Theodosian

118 6 ]

NOTES

Code was reduced in the Breviarium, due to omissions and condensation, from 53 to io (see ibid., p. 260, n. 5). Among the anti-Jewish restrictions it retains, most notable are those touching the purchase of slaves and the assumption of public offices {ibid., n. 5, §1,2). That most of these restrictions fell into abeyance is evident from their repeated reenactment by the Church Councils of both Gaul and Spain in the sixth and seventh centuries. See on this below, pp. 30-32, 34, 38. 5. MGH, Concilia aevi Merovingici, ed. F.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

16.

Maasen, 1893, P- 7^ (canon 14 or 13). Ibid., ibid., 94 (canon 30). Ibid., 159 (canon 16). Ibid., 204 (canon 11). Ibid., 210 (canon 9). Ibid., 67, (canon 9). Ibid., 158 (canon 13). Ibid., 190, (canon 17 or 15). MGH, Leges, I (ed. Pertz), 15 (Chlothacharii II. edictum, anni 614, c. 10). See above, p. 29. This may be gathered from S. Dill’s description of the Gallo-Roman and Frankish societies in the sixth century and beyond it (see his Roman Society in Gaul in the Merovingian Age, 1926, especially pp. 235-307). More definite about this is L. Sergeant, The Franks, 1898, pp. 154-155, 252-256, and other places. MGH, Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum, II, ed. Bruno Krusch, 1888; see ibid., Fredegarius, Chronica, lib. IV, cap. 65, p. 153, and Gesta Dagoberti, lib. I, cap. 24, p. 409. According to these sources, Dagobert took the move under the influence of Heraclius who, in turn, was impressed by an astrological prediction that his empire would be destroyed by a circumcised people. Discounting the astrological detail as legendary, but considering Heraclius’ counsel likely, Baron {History, III, pp. 54, 254, n. 68) tends to postpone that

(pages 31—33)

counsel (and Dagobert’s edict) for several years when the Emperor came to realize the danger posed to the Empire by the Moslems (the circumcised people). Since Heraclius decreed, in 632—34, forced conversion for all the Jews of the empire, Dagobert’s move, Baron believed, would be better understood against such a background. Despite the apparent plausibility of the argument, it cannot, as we see it, disqualify the data offered by the chapter of the Gesta Dagoberti (I, cap. 24), which deals with this matter. These data tell us (a) that Dagobert decreed conversion or expulsion for all the Jews of his Kingdom; (b) that the decree was issued in the eighth year of his reign (629); and (c) that in that year he also sent a delegation to Constantinople to negotiate a concord with the Empire. These are data of historical significance, which the Chronicler must have drawn from reliable sources, and we see no reason why they should be superseded by the only questionable item in that account—Heraclius’ counsel offered on the ground of an astrological prediction. In 629, we should further note, the Jews of Palestine, then re¬ conquered by Heraclius, were strongly pressured to convert to Christianity, and in that year the Arabs launched their first assaults on the Byzantine forces in Palestine. Years later these events may have been echoed in the story of the astrological prediction, which was somehow attached to the sources dealing with Dagobert’s decree. 17. See E. A. Thompson, The Goths in Spain, 1969, p. 87ff. 18. Ibid., op. cit., pp. 58-59. The prohibition on Catholics marrying heretics was first decreed in the Council of Elvira (canon 16); it was reenacted in the Council of Laodicea (in Phrygia), which was held between 341 and 381,

{pages 33-37)

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

25

NOTES

and in the Fourth General Council at Chalcedon. See Hefele, History of the Councils, I, pp. ii, 31, 144; II, pp. 305,316; III, p. 400. Ibid., p. 84. Gregory of Tours, HF, VI. 18. Thompson, op cit., p. 85. Gregory of Tours, HF, IX. iy. See below, nn. 50, 51. On Reccared’s secret conversion, see Fredegarius, Chronica, lib. IV, cap. 8; on the conspiracies organized by Arian bishops and the Counts of Narbonne, see E. A. Thompson, “The conversion of the Visigoths to Catholicism,” in Nottingham Medieval Studies, IV (i960), p. 26, and id., The Goths, pp. 102-104. On the existence of a tendency among the Visigoths to convert to Catholicism already at the time of Leovigild, see J. N. Hillgarth, “La conversion de los Visigodos,”, in AST, XXXIV (1961), pp. 21-35. See MGH, LV {ed. Zeumer), lib. XII, tit. 3, law 13: “The depravity of the Jews” (meaning thereby their bribery) has “corrupted the minds of princes.” The law is here presented in S. P. Scott’s translation (The Visigothic Code,

i9'°> P- 369)26. See ibid., laws 13 and 14. Law 13 repeats Sisebut’s prohibition on Jews’ owning Christian slaves. Law 14 further orders: “Slaves who are known to be the issue of marriages between Christians and Jews . . . shall be made Christians.” In marital unions between Jews and Christians the infidel party must become Christian; if objection is offered, the marriage is dissolved and the recalcitrant person shall be driven into exile. If a Hebrew circumcises a Christian or induces one to join his sect, or performs any of his rites, he shall be beheaded. 27. For Sisebut’s order of forced conversion, see Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, cap. 60 (MGH, Chronica Minora (saec. IV-VII), II (ed.

[ '>87

Mommsen), p. 291), Chronica maiora, c. 416, ibid., p. 480, and Continuatio Hispana, c. 15. {ibid., p. 339). For the date of Sisebut’s decree, see Isi¬ dore’s Etymologiae, lib. V, 39.42, and Thompson’s remarks, op. cit., p. 166, n. 2. See, however, also F. Gorres, “Das Judenthum im westgotischen Spanien von Konig Sisebut bis Roderich (612-711),” in Z/WT, 48 (1905), p. 356, • who believes that Sisebut’s original harsh laws were sufficient to lead many Jews to conversion or exile, thus explaining Isidore’s statement (in his Historia Gothorum) that Sisebut’s forced conversion was begun in initio regni. 28. See H. Graetz, “Die westgothische Gesetzgebung in Betreff derjuden,” in Jahresbericht des judisch-theologischen Seminars, Breslau, 1858, p. 2. 29. See his “Legal Condition” etc., loc. cit., p. 261.

30. For Pope Gregory’s view that thejews should not be forced to convert but be attracted to the faith by humane approaches, see, among other places, MGH, Gregorii I Papae Registrum Epistolarum, I, 1957 (ed. Ewald and Hartmann), epist. I. 45 and XIII. 15. 31. See above, p. 26. 32. Additamenta ad Chron. Maiora, I. 2, in MGH, Chronica Minora (saec. IV-VII), II, p. 490. 33. There is no contemporary source for this information, and the first to offer it was Alfonso de Espina, in his Fortalitium Fidei (lib. Ill, nona consid., quarta expulsio, ed. Lyon, iyn, f. 2i9v), from which it passed to a Hebrew work which served as source to Samuel Usque {Consolafam as Tribulaqoens de Israel, III, Coimbra, 1906, pp. iv—iir; Engl, transl. by Martin A. Cohen, Consolation for the Tribulations of Israel, 196y, pp. 167—168; and see Cohen’s discussion of the related sources, ibid., pp. 277-287, and below, appendix G, pp. 1131-1132). In Emeq ha-Bakha, a Hebrew chronicle completed in 1575,

118 8 ]

34. 35. 36.

37. 38. 39. 40.

41. 42. 43. 44. 45.

NOTES

however, we read that many of the Jews who fled from Sisebut’s coercion to Gaul returned to Spain under King Swinthila—and not under Witiza, as stated by Espina and Usque. The correction shows familiarity with Gothic history and suggests that the author, Joseph ha-Hakohen, used some Christian source, now lost—perhaps the same source reflected, in distorted form, in the Christian documents used by Espina which are likewise no longer extant (see conclusion of his passage on the quarta expulsio cited above: Hec ex cronicis hyspanie et ex archivo fratris johannis egydii zamorensis). Canons 65 and 66 (see GonzalezTejada, II, p. 308). Graetz, loc. cit., p. 11; Hefele, op. cit., IV, 1895, p. 461, c. 3. Attesting this is the placitum—the forced declaration of faithfulness to Catholicism—addressed by the Converted Jews to the King which was published by Fidel Fita (“Placitum de los judi'os en tiempo de Chintila”) in Suplementos al Concilio nacional Toledano VI, 1881, pp. 43—49. LV, III, 1, 2. LV, II, 1, 9. See Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 366; LV, XII, 2, 3. See LV, lib. XII, tit. II, laws 5, 6, 7, 8; Jews were also prohibited from testifying against Christians, pros¬ ecuting a Christian or suing him upon any written contract (laws 9-10). “Die Westgothische Gesetzgebung,” loc. cit., 19-20. “The Legal Condition,” loc. cit., pp. 269-71. Gonzalez-Tejada, op. cit., II, p. 366. LV, XII, 2, 15. LV, XII, 3, 16. This is according to Zeumer’s edition of LV; in the Fuero Juzgo (the 13th century Spanish version of LV) this law appears as c. 17 of lib. XII, tit. 2, and is erroneously

[pages 38-45)

attributed to King Egica. 46. This commitment is included in the new placitum addressed to him by the converts which he incorporated in his Code (LV, XII, 2,17; in the Fuero Juzgo, the placitum appears as law 16). 47. Thompson, op. cit., p. 207. 48. See F. Dahn, Urgeschichte der romanischen und germanischen Volker, I, 1881, p. 396; see also pp. 510-511, 531-5-32. 49. See above, p. 29. 50. See Gonzalez-Tejada, II, pp. 245-246 (Third Toledan Council, canon XIV). 51. Ibid., p. 245. 52. Ibid., ibid. 53. LV, XII. 2, 13-14. 54. Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 307, canon 63. 55. Ibid., p. 308, canon 66. 56. Ibid., ibid., canon 65. 57. Ibid., p. 304, canon 57. 58. Ibid., p. 305, canon 57. 59. Ibid., p. 307, canon 63. 60. Ibid., p. 306, canon 60, which speaks of Judei but is no doubt an extension of canon 59 as pointed out correctly by Tejada, in his introductory remark to canon 60, ibid. 61. There is no direct evidence of the number of Jews in Spain toward the end of the 6th century. We may safely assume, however, that the tolerant treatment of the Jews by the Visigoths in the fifth and sixth centuries attracted to Spain many Jewish immigrants from North Africa and other regions governed by the Byzantines, who discriminated against the Jews. Also the great financial strength the Jews of Spain displayed during the later persecutions (see on this below, pp. 48-49) suggests that it was sustained by a larger rather than by a smaller group. 62. Ibid., p. 308, canon 65. 63. Ibid., ibid. 64. Such as those that might come from children of mixed marriages; see above, n. 60.

(pages 46-51)

NOTES

65. See the King’s opening address at the Eighth Toledan Council, in Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 366. 66. Ibid., p. 383, canon 12. 67. See C. H. Lynch and P. Galindo, San Braulio, Obispo de Zaragoza, 1950, p. 363 ff.; F. Dahn, Die Konige der Germanen, VI, 1885, pp. 404-405, 644-650; and F. Fita’s elaborate study: “El papa Honorio primero y San Braulio de Zaragoza,” in La Ciudad de Dios, IV (1870), V (1871) and VI (1871). 68. Lynch and Galindo, op. cit., pp. 363-364. 69. Ibid., p. 363. 70. A. K. Ziegler, Church and State in Visigothic Spain, 1930, p. 198. 71. Ibid., p. 197. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid., p. 198. 74. See R. Altamira, “Spain under the Visigoths,” Cambridge Medieval History, II, 1980, p. 172; S. McKenna, Paganism and Pagan Survival in Spain up to the Fall of the Visigothic Kingdom, 1958, especially pp. 121-122, 125-134. 75. LV, XII, 2. 13. 76. Had the Jews provided a basis for the charge that they were promotors of rebellion, the kings would have used this as decisive argument for the Church Councils to decree their doom. But none of the royal laws or conciliar canons even hint at such an accusation. Also in Narbonne, in 673, the Jews were not among the plotters of the uprising, but were probably moved to join the insurgents as residents of the mutinous province (as may be gathered from the references to the Jews in this connection by Julian, Historia IVambae regis, c. 6, in MGH, Scriptores rerum merovinigicarum, V, 504, and Lucas of Tuy, Historia Galliae, in Migne, PL, 96, 767—both markedly anti-Jewish sources). King Wamba who, after he had crushed the rebellion, expelled the Jews from the city of Narbonne, would hardly have permitted their

[1189

return if this had not been the case. 77. Bernard S. Bachrach (“A Reassessment of Visigothic Jewish Policy, 589-71,” American Historical Review, LXXVIII

78.

79. 80.

81.

[Feb.-Dee. 1973], PP- II-34) attempted to portray the Visigothic-Jewish struggle against the background of the kings’ conflict with the nobility. The attempt, a step in the right direction, was flawed, however, by the author’s misconceptions. Bachrach ignored the kings’ drive for total union and the complex reaction of the Church Councils (a mere “tool of the mon¬ archy,” in his opinion) and conse¬ quently replaced the original cause of the quarrel by the ensuing political antagonism. Above all, he expanded the Jewish involvement in the conflict far beyond its real aims and confines, perhaps because he wrongly viewed the Jews as a “formidable political faction” (pp. 33, 34), which the nobles courted (pp. 22, 26) and which threw its great weight behind those on whose aid it could count. Indeed, if we go by Bachrach’s assertions, the Jews played a direct and important role in both the making and unmaking of kings—a view which takes the picture entirely out of focus and beyond the sphere of historical reality. The anti-Jewish laws which the Third Toledan Council (589) enacted at Reccared’s “order,” were “proposed,” it should be noted, to the King by the Council (see opening of canon 14—Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 245). LV, XII, 3, .. Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 455 (the King’s opening speech at the 12th Toledan Council). LV, XII, 3, 23-24. Bishops were also to be present at the legal proceedings against followers of Judaism, and if they could not attend any of the sessions, they were obliged to appoint a priest as their deputy {ibid., law 25). The Church, moreover, was ordered

11 9 ° ]

82. 83.

84. 8y.

86. 87. 88.

89. 90. 91.

NOTES

to punish bishops who evaded any of these duties {ibid., law 24). LV, XII, 3, 3; Gonzalez-Tejada, II, pp. 476-478 (canon 9). Thompson, who thus summarized these laws {The Goths, p. 206), at¬ tributed them to Receswinth; the summary, however, better fits Erwig’s legislation (see LV, XII, 3, 1—2). Ibid., law 11. Ibid., law 4. The same law adds: “Should any woman presume to practice the operation of circumcision, or should present anyone to another person to be circumcised, she shall have her nose cut off, and all her property shall be given to the King.” LV, XII, II, 18. Ibid., ibid. See the King’s address to the 17th Council of Toledo in GonzalezTejada, II, p. 593, and his rec¬ ommendations to the Council as sum¬ marized in its decisions {ibid., p. 603). Ibid., pp. 603-604. Ibid. Menendez y Pelayo, Historia de los Heterodoxos Espafioles, I, pp. 372—373. Among those who shared Pelayo’s view were Dozy {Spanish Islam, 1913, p. 227), Graetz {Geschichte, V2, 1870, p. 148), Juster (“The Legal Condi¬ tion, etc.,” loc cit., pp. 282—283), and other well-known historians. In our judgment, however, the contention is not only far-fetched, but utterly indefensible, since the converts could not envisage, even in their wildest dreams, the overthrow of the Visigothic power with the forces at their disposal. Some substance might have been lent to King Egica’s charges had he claimed that certain HispanoJewish converts tried to induce the Moslems 'm North Africa to invade Spain and promised them the help of their Spanish brethren if such an invasion took place. But in 693 the Moslems were not yet established in western

(pages 51-54)

North Africa, and evidently no such claim could be made. Egica, therefore, had to limit his assertions regarding the alleged foreign allies of the con¬ verts to the Jews of North Africa only, and this reveals the groundlessness of the conspiracy he portrayed and the absurdity of his charge. Moreover, Egica accused the converts not only of planning the “ruin of the fatherland and the entire people” (conati sunt ruinam partiae ac populo universo), but also of the whole of Christendom, their plans having actually extended to other Christian countries besides Spain (see Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 593, and p. 603, canon 8 of 17th Toledan Council). Thus he further exposed the fictitious nature of his charge, which foreshadowed similar antisemitic libels of much later times. 92. See concerning this Franz Gorres, “Charakter und Religionspolitik des vorletzten spanischen Westgotenkonigs Witiza,” ZflVT, 48 (1905), pp. 96-111. The Second Cycle 1. RAH, Memorias, VII (1852), p. 93. 2. Evidence of the existence of a Jewish community in Barcelona in the third quarter of the 9th century comes from both Christian and Jewish sources. In 876, Charles the Bald, King of the Western Franks, whose reign included the Spanish March, expresses his gratitude to the Barcelonians for their faithfulness to him (Charles’ kingdom had been beset by attacks from all sides), of which he had heard much from the Jew Judah (fidelis noster) who may have dealt with the King as the city’s representative (see Espaiia Sagrada, XXIX, p. 185: de vestra fidelitate multa nobis designavit). From about the same time comes the letter which Amram Gaon sent the Jews of Barcelona (see Responsa of the Geonim [Hebrew], Lyck, 1864, p. 21b). The letter,

{pages 56-60)

NOTES

addressed to “all the Rabbis and their students” in Barcelona, seems to suggest a sizable community whose growth had required several decades. Evidence of the presence of the Jews in Coimbra (twenty-five miles east of the Atlantic), which was conquered by the Christians in 866, comes from the year 900 (see Baer, II, p. 1) and in Castrojeriz from 974, when the Count of Castile granted the inhabitants of the place a privilege equalizing Jews and Christians in wergild (Baer, I, p. 1, §2). 3. R. Dozy even goes to the extreme of presenting the alleged Jewish “be¬ trayal” as an unquestionable historical fact {op. cit., p. 232). 4. For the source of the legend and its refutation, see E. Ashtor, The Jews of Moslem Spain, I, 1973, PP- 4°7—4°8 (n. 7) and P. Leon Tello, Los Judlos de Toledo, I, 1979, pp. 20-21. See also Norman Roth, “The Jews and the Moslem Conquest of Spain,” in JST, 37 (1976), pp. 147-178. 7. For the Arabic sources see C. Sanchez-Albornoz, La Espaiia Musulmana, I, i9602, pp. 37-47; R. Dozy, Recherches sur I'histoire et la litterature de I'Espagne pendant le moyen age, 1881, pp. 49,72—74; and see Rodrigo Jimenez de Rada, Rerum in Hispania gestarum chronicon, Granada, 1747, lib. Ill, cap. 23. 6. This factual alliance, which existed during the Arab conquest, continued, despite some disturbing interruptions, throughout the period of Omayyad rule (see Ashtor, op. cit., I, pp. 26, 76, 93, 100—101).

7. Ashtor, ibid., p. 93.

8. Ibid., ibid. 9. Ibid., pp. 30-31, 60 and other places on the reasons for Jewish immigration into Spain in the Moslem period. 10. For the prolonged struggle between the Moslems and the Franks, see F. Codera, “Narbona, Gerona y Barcelona bajo la dominacidn

[ Iipi

Musulmana,” in IEC, Anuari, III (1909-1910), pp. 178-202, and J. Reinaud, Invasions de Sarrazins en France, et de France en Savoie, en Piemont et en Suisse, 1836, pp. 1—173. 11. In his Mohammed and Charlemagne, 1937, pp. 164-174, 183-187. 12. Especially by R. S. Lopez in Speculum, XVIII (1943), PP- '4-3813. Cf. Archibald R. Lewis, Naval Power . and Trade in the Mediterranean, 1974, p. 126. Lewis who, unlike Pirenne, maintained that the main commercial hardships experienced by the Carolingians were originally caused by the Byzantines, and not by the Moslems, nevertheless describes the conditions in Southern France of the 9th century in the same manner as they are portrayed by Pirenne (see ibid., pp. 146, 177). 14. J. Regne, “Etude sur la condition des juifs de Narbonne du Ve au XIVe siecle,” in REJ, 77 (1908), p. 12. 17. The primary source is the Routes and Kingdoms of the ninth century Iraqi-Persian author ibn Khurdadhbeh. The relevant passage was first translated into English by A. Sprenger in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1844, p. 719!^ and, translated into French, was later published by C. Babbier de Meynard in Journal Asiatique, Sixth Series, vol. V (1867), pp. 712—717. On the Radhanites see J. Jacobs, Jewish Contribution to Civilization, 1919, 194-204; L. Rabinowitz, Jewish Merchant Adven¬ turers, 1948; C. Cahen, in REJ, 123 (1964), pp. 499—707, who questioned some of Ibn Khurdadhbeh’s data, and E. Ashtor, JESHO, XIII (1970), i82ff, who put to rest Cahen’s questioning (pp. 184-186) and stressed the importance of the Radhanites’ connections with Spain. 16. M. Lombard was one of the few scholars who viewed Narbonne as the key port of Gaul’s shipping both

1192 ]

17. 18. 19.

20.

21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

NOTES

southward along Catalonia and the Spanish littoral to North Africa and eastward along the shores of Provence and Italy toward the eastern Mediterranean up to Antioch (see his “La route de la Meuse et les relations lointaines de pays mosans entre le VIIIe et le XIe siecle,” in L Art Mosan, I953, pp. 1-28). “It is from Narbonne that the Jewish merchants, the ‘Radhanites,’ started their itinerary to Egypt and Syria,” says Lombard, who also indicates Barcelona as the first major station of Gaul’s maritime merchants who travelled southward toward Africa along the Spanish coast (see ibid., p. 18, n. 42, and map following p. 28). In view of Narbonne’s Jewish and commercial history and the precarious condition of the coastal cities of Provence in the 9th century (they were frequently raided by Mos¬ lem pirates), Narbonne appears as the only safe haven and most likely center for the Radhanites’ activity. That it was from this city that the Radhan¬ ites departed on their journeys to the East (both through North Africa and the Tyrrhenian sea) was also the view of Cecil Roth (WHJP, The Dark Ages, 1966, pp. 23-29,386; and see map, p. 26). Pirenne, op. cit., p. 2y8. Ibid., p. 260. On the Carolingians’ policy toward the Jews of Narbonne, see Regne’s work mentioned above, loc. cit., pp. 242-243. It is from his days that we have the news of Jewish presence in Coimbra; see above, n. 2. C. Sanchez-Albornoz, Espafia, un Enigma historico, 1950, II, p. 177. Ibid., ibid. This is why Jews were invited to settle in Seville, Murcia and other cities; see Baer, History, I, pp. m-114. On fortresses in the hands ofjews, see below, p. 1211b. See below, p. i2iiab. “I shall not deny,” says Sanchez-

[pages 60-64)

Albornoz (op. cit., II, p. 178), “that there were many Jewish craftsmen in the Spanish cities in the Middle Ages,” but at all times, he contends, they formed a minority in the “industrious and industrial masses” of those cities. As proof of this contention, he presents evidence from Avila in the early 14th century (ibid.)—evidence that cannot contradict our claims, which relate to much earlier periods—i.e., the nth and 12th centuries. 27. Americo Castro was no doubt close to truth when he asserted that trade, like craftsmanship and money-lending (the “equivalent of banking institutions”) were almost the “exclusive birthright' of the Jews in Christian Spain in the early period of the Reconquest (italics are mine, B.N.). Castro, however, failed to pay due attention to the changes wrought in Spanish economy in the course of the following cen¬ turies and wrongly applied the initial situation to the rest of the medieval era (see his Structure of Spanish History, >954. P- 499)More balanced is Sanchez-Albor¬ noz’ view of the Jewish share in Spain’s medieval commerce. “No¬ body,” he says, “can dispute the mercantile activities of the Jews in the urban centers of the peninsula. But as the decades passed, there increased with intensity the parallel activi¬ ties of the Christians, who finally came to control international com¬ merce including the Castilian trade” (Sanchez-Albornoz, Espana, un Enigma Historico, II, p. 179). 28. Which led to Castro’s ultimate conclusion: “The history of Spain has risen on the basis of a Jewish economy” (see his Structure of Spanish History, 1954, p. 502). 29. W. Roscher, “The Status of the Jews in the Middle Ages Considered from the Standpoint of Commercial Policy,” in Historia jfudaica, VI (1944), p. 26.

(pages 64-79)

NOTES

30. Ibid. 31. Fr. de Bofarull y Sans, Los Judios en el territorio de Barcelona (siglos X al XIII), 1910, pp. 4—22; and see alsoj. Miret y Sans and M. Schwab, “Documents sur les Juifs Catalans aux XIe, Xlle et XIIIe Siecles,” REJ, 68 (1914), pp. 49-83, I74-I9732. Sanchez-Albornoz, op. cit., II, p. 177. 33. Ibid. 34. On the rise of Jewish officialdom in Aragon during the reign of Jaime I, see Bofarull, op. cit., pp. 15-22. 35. S. W. Baron, “The Jewish Factor in Medieval Civilization,” in AAJR, Proceedings, XII (1942), p. 36. 36. This, too, is implied in Baron’s emphasis (ibid.) that the Jew, because of his religious position, could never expect to be regarded as a native. 37. Ibid. 38. Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, I, 1861, p. 99

(§15)39. M. Colmeiro, Historia de la Economla Polltica de Espana, I, 1965, p. 473, refers to the “desenfrenada codicia” the Jews allegedly displayed in their money-lending activities, and says that because of it “inventaron fraudes y corrieron el riesgo de perder sus caudales e incurir en pena, buscando la compensacion de estos danos y peligros en prestar con sordida ganancia” (p. 476). 40. See the testimony of Samuel Zarza, contemporary of the civil war of 1367, about the attacks of Christ¬ ian townsmen in Segovia, Avila and many other towns upon the Jews, in which the latter were robbed of their pledges and notes indicating the debts of Christian borrowers (see appen¬ dix to Shevet Yehudah, ed. Wiener, p. 132). 41. See below, pp. 159-160. 42. Baer, History (Hebrew), p. 120. 43. J. Vicens Vives, An Economic History of Spain, transl. F. M. Lopez-Morillas, ^69, p. 284.

[ 11 9 3

44. See below, p. 95; and see Cortes of Alcala, 1348, §57 (cf. below, p. 1205, n.

29)45. Baer, History, I, p. 361. 46. A. Ballesteros, “Don Yufaf de Ecija,” in Sefarad, VI (1946), p. 253. 47. We refer to the grave danger faced by Spanish Jewry in the days of Alfonso XI, when Gonzalo Martinez, com¬ mander of his army, urged the king to despoil and destroy all the Jews of Spain (see Shevet Yehudah, ed. Baer-Shohat, 1947, pp. 52-55; and Baer’s History, I, pp. 354—359).

The Castilian Cities 1. See RAH, Cortes de Leon y de Castilla (below: CLC), I, 1861, pp. 104-105 (Cortes of Haro, 1288, §21). 2. Ibid., ibid., p. 104 (§20). 3. Cortes of Valladolid, 1293, §9 (CLC, I, p. no). 4. Ibid., ibid. 5. Cortes of Burgos, 1301, §16 (CLC, I, p. 149); Cortes of Zamora, 1301, §14 (CLC, I, pp. 155-156). 6. Cortes of Medina del Campo, 1305 §§9-10 (CLC, I, pp. 175-176). 7. Ibid., §10, p. 176: por esta razon se hermava le tierra. 8. Ibid., ibid., p. 175. 9. Cortes of Valladolid, 1307, §16 (CLC, I, p. 191). 10. Cortes of Palencia, 1313, $7 (CLC, I, p. 224). However, the crux of their request at the Cortes of Medina del Campo, 1305 (§10, p. 175)—i.e., que los cojan los cogedores que nos (i.e., the cities) pusieremos en las villas—was not accepted. 11. Cortes of Burgos, 1315, §6 (CLC, I, p. 275)12. Ibid., ibid.,:. . . e que non ssean cogedores nin recabdadores cauallero ninguno... e ni andar en las cogetas clerigos nin judios nin otros omes rreboltosos, e las cogetas que non ssean arrendadas. 13. Cortes of Carrion, 1317, §8 (CLC, I, p. 3°5)-

11 9 4 ]

NOTES

14. Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, $18 (CLC, I, P- 342). 15. Ibid., ibid.

(pages 80-89)

43. Cortes of Toro, 1371, §13 (CLC, II, p. 208). 44. Ibid., §2 (CLC, II, p. 203).

16. Except for the towns of Extremadura and Leon which are excluded from the limitation. There, the petition states (ibid., ibid.), the taxes should be gathered by both omes buenos and caballeros who reside in the towns and are their citizens (vecinos). 17. Cortes of Madrid, 1329, §37 (CLC, I, pp. 415-416). 18. Ibid., ibid.

45. Cortes of Burgos, 1377, §11 (CLC, II, pp. 281-282). 46. Baer, II, p. 62 (§81); cf. Amador de los Rios, Historia, I, p. 486; see RAH, Coleccion de Fueros y Cartas Pueblas de Espana, 1852, pp. 156-157; Fuero de Sevilla, June 15, 1250, Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, 1677, p. 24; Memorial Historico Espanol, I, p. 207.

19. Ibid., p. 416: lo tengo por mio seruicio, saluo en aquellos logares do me lo pidieren. Nor did the King include the arrendadores (tax farmers) among those whose services he promised to forgo in the gathering of his revenues (ibid.). 20. Cortes of Burgos, 1367, §11 (CLC, II, p.

99)48. Cortes of Valladolid, 1351, §68 (CLC, II, p. 40).

iyi). 21. Ibid., ibid. a. Cortes of Toro, 1371, §2 (CLC, II, p. 2°3). 23. See below, p. 256. 24. See Baer, II, p. 5 (§12). 25. Cortes of Valladolid, 1293, $4 (CLC, I, P/31)26. Ibid., ibid., §3. 27. Ibid. 28. Cortes of Valladolid, 1312, §73 (CLC, I, p. 214). 29. Cortes of Palencia, 1313,1, §25 (CLC, I, p. 241). 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 3536. 37. 38. 39.

Ibid, ibid., §$2-3 (CLC, I, p. 222). Ibid., §20 (CLC, I, p. 226). Ibid., §§19, 21 (CLC, I, p. 226). Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, §4 (CLC, I, p. 338). Ibid., $§7, 10 (CLC, I, p. 339-340). Md., §37 (CLC, I, p. 347). Ibid., $5 (CLC, I, p. 338). Ibid., §6. Ibid., ibid., p. 339. Ibid., ibid.

40. Cortes of Burgos, 1367, §6 (CLC, II, pp. 148-149). 41. Ibid., §10 (CLC, II, pp. 150-151). 42. Ibid., ibid. (CLC, II, p. 151).

47. Cortes of Palencia, 1286, §15 (CLC, I, p.

49. Cortes of Valladolid, 1385, §16; (CLC, II, pp. 328-329). 50. See Amador de los Ri'os, Historia, II, p. 621, law 7. According to this law, Jews and Moors could no longer have their internal litigation (both civil and criminal) decided by their own judges, but only by the municipal magistrates. This seems to imply that their conflicts with Christians were not to be treated differently. The law directs the municipal judges to consider, in their treatment of civil litigation among Jews (or Moors), the latter’s customs and ordinances. No such consideration is suggested for internal criminal litigation, or for disputes involving Christians. 51. See for instance, Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, §51 (CLC, I, p. 351); Cortes of Toro, 1371, §8 (CLC, II, p. 207). 52. Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, §48 (CLC, I, P- 3f°)53. Cortes of Valladolid, 1293, §22 (CLC, I, p. 114). , 54. See Cronica de Alfonso X, caps. 23-24 (ed. BAE, vol. 66, pp. 2oa-2ia). 55. Cortes of Valladolid 1322, §94 (CLC, I, p. 365). 56. Cortes of Zamora, 1301, §21; (CLC, I, p. !J7) 57. Ibid., ibid. 58. Cortes of Burgos, 1301, §17 (CLC, I, p.

{pages 89-94)

59.

60. 61.

62. 63. 64. 6y. 66. 67.

68.

NOTES

149); Cortes of Zamora, 1301, §5 (CLC, I, p. 152). Cones of Medina del Campo, 1305, §6 (CLC, I, p. 175); ibid., §5 (I, p. 181); Cortes of Valladolid, 1307, §20 (I, p. 192); Cortes of Valladolid, 1322, §93 (CLC, I, p. 364). Cortes of Valladolid, 1293, §26 (CLC, I, p. ny). Cones of Palencia, 1286, §2 (CLC, I, p. 95); Cortes of Zamora, 1301, §13 (CLC, I, p. 155). Cortes of Valladolid, 1312, §102; (CLC, I, p. 220). Cones of Palencia, 1313, §33; (CLC, I, p. 230). Cones of Burgos, 1373, §1, 15 (CLC, II, pp. 257, 264). Cortes of Zamora, 1432, §30 (CLC, III, p. 141). Ibid., §34, p. 144. The petitioners included in this category of Caballeros also escribanos and officials of the King, Queen and Prince. See Cones of Valladolid, 1442, §23 (CLC, III, pp. 422-423); Cones of Valladolid, 1447, §36 (CLC, III, p. 539); Cones of Valladolid, 1451, §29 (CLC, III, p. 611 ff). Cones of Alcala de Henares, 1348, §2 (CLC, I, pp. 594-595)- In this petition the procuradores demanded the cancellation of the usury which Christian borrowers were committed to pay to nobles, clerics and other Christian money-lenders.

2. 3. 4. 5.

6. Debacle and Transition 1. Pedro I still appears inscrutable to many researchers who find it hard to determine what is true and untrue in the account of his reign written by his opponent, Pedro Lopez de Ayala {Cronica del rey Don Pedro, BAE, vol. 66). Ayala’s judgments, shared by some subsequent Spanish historians (among them Zurita), have been subjected to a variety of criticisms since the appearance in the 17th century of

7.

8.

[ 11 9 J

various apologies for the King, among them that of J. Antonio de Vera y Figueroa, El Ret Don Pedro defendido, 1648. Opinions of Pedro have since fluctuated in both directions, with most writers taking a more positive view of Pedro than that expressed in the earlier historiography. The most thorough study of Pedro and his reign, which unequivocally takes the king’s side, is that of J. B. Sitges, Las mujeres del Rey Don Pedro I de Castilla, 1910. The most recent work on this ruler and his times, which strikes a balance between the conflicting views, is that of L. Suarez Fernandez in Historia de Espana, XIV, pp. 1-158. For the sources on Pedro, see especially Sitges, op. cit., pp. 7-48. Ayala, op. cit., ano 1351, cap. 3 (BAE, 66, p. 412b). Ibid., cap. 20. Ibid., caps. 5 and 6; ano 1353, cap. 1. Ibid., ano 1350, cap. xiv (p. 410b). Don Samuel is here designated as the “King’s Tesorero Mayor;’ (see ibid., ano 1353, cap. xvi, p. 434b; ano 1354, cap. 38, p. 459b, and the many documents published by Baer, II, pp. 177-180). This does not mean, howrever, that Don Samuel was not made Tesorero Mayor upon his appointment as “Treasurer” in 1350. Thus in a document of October 18, 1353, he is referred to as both “tbesorero mayor de nuestro sennor el rey” and “thesorero de nuestro ... rey” (see Baer, ibid., p. 178). Ayala, op. cit., ano 1353, cap. 16, p. 434b (era may privado del rey e su consejero). This is stated explicitly by Ayala in his concluding remarks about Don Samuel’s career {ibid., ano 1360, cap. XXII, p. 510b), where the King’s Chief Treasurer is described as “su privado e del su consejo.” The inscription preserved on the walls of the synagogue built by Don Samuel in Toledo in 1357 asserts that “throughout the history of the Exile no one in Israel has reached the height of his influence”

1196 ]

NOTES

(see photograph of the inscription in F. Cantera, Sinagogas de Toledo, Segovia y Cordoba, 1973, following p. 106). This assertion may be taken as factual if one bears in mind the other part of the inscription, according to which Don Samuel’s position was not only “higher than that of any other minister,” but also such as made him “the ruler of the country” without whose consent “no¬ body in the Kingdom would dare make a move” (ibid.). However highflown in defining Don Samuel’s powers, such pronouncements could not have been made during King Pedro I’s reign unless they were substantially true. 9. On the plague in Spain see R. D’Abadal i de Vinyals, in his prologue to the Historia de Espana, XIV, pp. xxvii-xxxv; J. Sobreques Callico, “La pesta negra en la peninsula Iberica,” in Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 7 (1970—1971), pp. 67-101; A. Lopez de Meneses, “Una consecuencia de la peste negra en Cataluna: el pogrom de 1348,” 10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15.

in Sefarad, 19 (1959), pp. 92-131, 321—364. See Baer, I, pp. 324-328,337 (§§230-232, 243), referring to an attack upon the Jews of Barcelona. Bloody assaults occurred in other places, too; see ibid., p. 350, the introduction to the decisions adopted by the rep¬ resentatives ofthejews of Aragon meet¬ ing in Barcelona in December 1354. Other documents {ibid., §§238 and 241, pp. 331-332, 334-335) refer to the losses caused by the plague to the Jewish communities in Saragossa and Calatayud. In Saragossa barely a fifth of the community survived {ibid., p. 332). As did the outbreak against the Jews of Seville (1354), stimulated by a charge of Host desecration (see Baer, I, §187). Cortes of Valladolid, 1351. §§31, 32 (CLC, II, p. 19). Ibid., ibid., §1, p. 2. Ibid., §66, p. 39. Ibid., ibid.

{pages 94-101)

16. Ibid. 17. Ayala, op. cit., ano 2, cap. xii (BAE, 66, p.4i7a). 18. See Cortes of Alcala de Henares, Feb. 28, 1348, §55. (CLC, I, p. 613). 19. See Cortes of Burgos 1345, §5 (CLC, I, p. 486); Cortes of Alcala de Henares, 1348, §55 (CLC, I, p. 613); Cortes of Leon, 1349, §22 (CLC, II, p. 634). 20. Cortes of Valladolid, 1351, §§75, 76 (CLC, II, p. 44). 21. Ayala, op. cit., ano 4, caps, xi-xii, pp. 432b-433ab. 22. Ibid., ano 6, cap. 5 (p. 4503b). 23. Ibid., cap. 6, pp. 46ib-462a. 24. Ibid., p. 462ab. 25. Ibid., p. 462b. 26. This is in fact confirmed by Ayala’s statement: “Estaban con el Conde e con el Maestre algunos Caballeros e Escuderos de Toledo que eran sus vasallos, e venian con ellos de Talavera; e otros estaban dentro de la cibdad de Toledo, que magtier non eran sus vasallos, los querian bien, e tenian ese dia su parte e su voluntad” {ibid., p. 462a). 27. Ibid., cap. vii, p. 462b. 28. Ibid., pp. 46215-4638. 29. Ibid., ibid. (p. 463a). 30. Ibid., cap. ix, p. 464a. 31. Ibid., cap. x, p. 464a (por quanto fueron en aquel consejo de se alzar la ciudad). 32. Baer, II, 185-186, §190. 33. See Eusebio Ramirez, “Perdon a Cuenca por haber seguido a dona Blanca de Borbon,” in RABM, 27 (1923), 34I-35'34. Baer, II, p. 186 (§191). 35. Ayala, op. cit., ano 7, 1356, cap. ii, p. 47 an^ Menahem ben Zerah, Zedab laDerekh, introduction. Toledo sur¬ rendered by the end of April, 1369, six weeks after the King’s murder and almost a year after it was besieged. Samuel Zarza, loc. cit., p. 132. Baer, I, p. 397. Cortes of Toro, 1371, §2 (CLC, II, p. 203). Cortes of Burgos, 1377, §1 (CLC, II, pp. 277-276). Enrique reduced their debts

{pages 112-130)

by a third and gave them short moratoria for payment of the rest; he also forbade the Jews to lend money at interest. See ibid., $2 (CLC, II, pp. 276-277). 100. Ibid., §11 (CLC, II, pp. 281-282); §10 (CLC, II, p. 281). 101. Ayala, Cronica de Juan I, ano I, cap. 3; BAE, 66, p. 66a; Amador, Historia, II, pp. 333-336; Catalina Garcia, op. cit., II, p. 211, n. 1. 102. Ayala, Cronica de Juan I, ano I, cap. 3, p. 66a. 103. Ibid., p. 66b. The Cronica Abreviada gives the names of two of these conspirators: Don Zuleman and Don Zag {ibid., n. 2) and the Cuarta Cronica General mentions a third associate: Don Mayr {CODOIN, 106, p. 107). 104. Ayala, Cronica de Juan I, ano I, cap. 3, p. 66b. 107. Cortes of Soria, September 3, §2 (CLC, II, pp. 311-312); Lindo, op. cit., p. 162. 106. Cortes of Soria, September 18, §23 (CLC, II, p. 310). 107. Baer, History, II, pp. 367, 470 (n. 73). 108. Alami, Iggeret Musar, ed. Habermann, 1946, p. 44. 109. Ibid., p. 47. no. Ibid. hi. The title “justiciero” was suggested by Philip II; see Suarez Fernandez, in Historia de Espatia, XIV, p. 39, n. 2.

Ferran Martinez 1. Among the sources referring to him with these titles, see those published by J. Amador de los Rios in appendix XI to volume II of his Historia, p. 779. 2. See Paul of Burgos, Scrutinium Scripturarum, 1791, p. 723. 3. See above, pp. 117-120. 4. See the order of Enrique II, dated August 27, 1378, published by Amador, Historia, II, p. 781 (appendix XI). 7. Ibid., p. 782.

{pages 131-150)

NOTES

6. Ibid., p. 581. The albala of August 25,

7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24.

25. 26.

1378 was therefore the second order that the King directed to Martinez on the same matter. And see the later instruction of Juan I which refers to the albalas (in the plural) addressed by Enrique II to Martinez {ibid., p. 584). Ibid., pp. 582-583. Ibid., ibid. See above, pp. 121—122. See Ordenamiento sobre fudios hecho en las Cortes de Soria, Sept. 3, 1380, §2 (CLC, II, pp. 311-312). Cortes of Soria, Sept. 23,1380, §23 (CLC, II, p. 310). See the albala of Juan I, dated March 3, 1382, in Amador, Historia, II, p. 583. See Juan I’s albala, in Amador, Historia, II, pp. 583-584. Ibid., ibid., p. 584. Ibid., p. 585. CLC, II, p. 322 (§3). Ibid., p. 325 (§9). It is noteworthy that while the King assured Cortes that no Jew or Moor would serve as treasurer to the King or any member of the royal family, he failed to respond to the re¬ quest thatjews and Moors be excluded from the tax-farming system. Ibid., p. 326 ($10). Amador, Historia, II, pp. 588-589. Ibid., p. 580. Ibid., p. 586-589. Concerning the number of syn¬ agogues in Seville, see my Marrams of Spain, 19732, p. 259. See Amador, Historia, II, p. 589. See Zuniga, Annales eclesidsticos y seculares de Sevilla, 1677, lib- 8, ano 1388, p. 249a. Amador, Historia, II, p. 345. See the archbishop’s sentence against Martinez published by Amador, op. cit., II, pp. 592-593 (appendix XIII).

27. Ibid. p. 593. 28. Ibid., ibid. 29. Ibid., pp. 593-59430. See the text of Martinez’ order in Amador, op. cit., II, p. 613 (appendix

[1199

XVII), and the letter of Castile’s Regency to the Dean and Chapter of the Church of Seville dated December 2,1390, published by Lea in American Historical Review, I (1895), pp. 220-222. 31. See ibid., ibid., p. 221 (que estan en pun to de se dispoblar et yr et fair de los mis reynos a morar et a vebir a otrtas partes). 32. See ibid., p. 222. 33. See the record of the meeting of the chapter’s leadership, published by Lea in the American Historical Review, I (i895), PP- 222-223. 34. Ibid., pp. 223—225. 35. Zuniga, op. cit., ano 1391, p. 252; Cuarta Cronica General, CODOIN, 106, p. 105. 36. Ibid., ibid. 37. Cronica de Enrique III, cap. 21 (BAE, v. 68, p. 177b). 38. The prohibition on converting Jews by force was part of Church official doctrine since Gregory I and Isidore of Seville. See on this above, p. 37 and n. 30. 39. Ayala, op. cit., p. 177b. 40. The date of the Sevillian outbreak is indicated by two Hebrew sources: Crescas’ letter to the Jews of Avignon (printed by Wiener in his edition of Schevet Jehuda, 1855, p. 129) and the lament published by Schirmann (in Kobez al jad, 1939, p. 66). Both state that the riots began on the first of Tamuz ( rosh hodesh Tamuz, rosh Tamuz)—i.e., on June 4, 1391. 41. Amador, op. cit., II, p. 358. 42. On the number of Sevillian Jews converted during the riots, see my Marrams of Spain, 19732, pp. 255-270. 43. See Zuniga, op. cit., p. 252. 44. Amador, op. cit., II, p. 359. 45. See the statement quoted by Amador (without indicating source), ibid., p. 355; and see the letter sent by Enrique Ill’s Regency to Burgos on June 16 (i.e., twelve days after the riots in Seville) in which Cordova is mentioned together

1200 ]

NOTES

with Seville among the places attacked by Martinez’ followers; see Baer, II, p. 232 (§24);

46. Cuarta Cronica General, CODOIN, 106, p. 105.

47. Amador, op. cit., II, p. 362. 48. See Rafael Ramirez de Arellano, “Matanza de Judios en Cordoba. 1391” in RAH, Boletin, xxxviii (1901), p. 297; and see Ramirez de Arellano and Diaz de Morales, Historia de Cordoba, IV, 1919, PP- ‘43-H549. Amador, op. cit., II, 362. 50. On the fate of the Toledan Jews attacked during the riots, see the dirge published by C. Roth in JQR, xxxix (1948), 129!?, and the lament published by S. Bernstein in Sinai, xxix (1951). According to Crescas, the Toledan rabbis “sanctified the Name together with their sons and students” (loc. cit., p. 129). The dirge published by Roth likewise stresses the martyrdom undergone by the leaders of the community. Otherwise, it refers to an indefinite (possibly limited) number of “pious” Jews who fell into the hands of the pogromists. On the basis of this, Roth remarked: “Perhaps, after all, these were the only martyrs” {loc. cit., p. 127, n. na). But the lament on the suffering of Toledo’s Jews in 1391 (published in Sinai, 29, pp. 209-214) suggests that the martyred repre¬ sented a considerable part of Tole¬ dan Jewry. “Some of them,” it says, “were killed by the sword; some were thrown into the river; some were taken captive to be sold as slaves, while others were forcibly converted.” From this description one may gather that the forced converts did not constitute the majority of the community’s losses, though their number may well have been large. This is also indicated by Crescas (“Letter to the Jews of Avignon” cited above, n. 40) who says: “many” of Toledo’s Jews were converted.

(pages 150-158)

51. According to Amador, op. cit., II, 378, n. 1 (without an indication of the source). 52. Concerning Madrid, see Fidel Fita, in RAH, Boletin, VIII (1886), p. 443-444; the officials of this town could still speak of el destruymiento e muerte e robo que se fizo de la aljama de la dicba villa {ibid., p. 451). Of those who refused to convert, some were killed, but the overwhelming majority were no doubt baptized. Hence the summary account that “todos los judios desta dicha villa de Madrid se bolvieron christianos" {ibid., p. 455). And see the dirge on the victims of 1391 published by J. Schirmann in Kobez al Jad, New Series, vol. Ill-i (1939), p. 66. 53. This is apparent from the order issued on September 9,1391 by the Council of Burgos forbidding the Jews to “give, sell, lend, or barter arms” to anyone who might come to the city to attend the Cortes which was about to convene there; and see Anselmo Salva, Las Cortes de 1392 en Burgos, 1891, pp. 56, 61. 54. See Baer I, p. 633: Car en tan enorme crim tota cuyta es triga, e tota severitat es leniment e dolqor de justicia. 55. See F. Danvila, “El robo de la juderfa de Valencia en 1391,” in RAH, Boletin, VIII (1886), pp. 369—370. 56. Ibid., p. 371.

51- Mid., p. 374. j8. Ibid., p. 372. 59. Ibid., pp. 372—373; cf. the Acts of the City Council’s session of July 10, 1391, ibid., p. 21, no. 23. 60. Ibid., pp. 373-374. 61. See Caspar Escolano, Decada primera de la historia de Valencia, 1610, I, lib. 5, cap. 10, col. 958; cf Crescas’ letter to the Jews of Avignon, loc. cit., p. 128; and see my Marrams of Spain, 19732, p. 241. 62. F. Fita, “Estrago de las juderias catalanas,” in RAH, Boletin, XVI (1890), P- 43963. Ibid., pp. 437-438. 64. Ibid., p. 438.

(pages 158-163)

NOTES

65. Ibid., p. 440; cf. Villaneuva, Viaje literario, XVIII, pp. 21-22. 66. Boletln, XVI, p. 438. 67. Ibid., p. 441. 68. Ibid., p. 438. 69. See Crescas’ letter to the Jews of Avignon about the riots of 1391, loc. cit., p. 128. Crescas says there: “The state leaderfs] were not involved in the crime; they did everything in their power to save them [the attacked Jews]; they supported them with bread and water and endeavored to inflict severe punishment on the criminals.” 70. Baer, I, pp. 699-700. 71. Ibid., ibid. 72. Ibid., ibid. 73. J. Parkes (The Jew in the Medieval Community, 1930, p. 70) saw the uniqueness of the Jewish conduct in its “rarely equalled” manifestation of the “power of the spirit over the weakness of the flesh.” This “power,” however, was displayed many times by individuals and groups committed to some cause. As we see it, the uniqueness of the Jews’ behavior in the Rhineland lay in the particular motives that inspired it. Those motives did not spring from rigid adherence to Jewish law or from the kind of excessive zeal that makes men fanatics. Had fanaticism de¬ termined the Rhineland Jews’ stand, they would have viewed any convert under duress as a weakling or traitor deserving contempt. But this was not their attitude. When a group of Jews in Worms were converted under circumstances that could be defined as only semi-compulsory, the un¬ converted Jews comforted and aided them, assuring them support “even unto death.” This shows that they considered forced conversion “hu¬ manly” understandable—and even tolerable, despite the contrary direc¬ tive of behavior that Jewish law dic¬ tated on this issue.

[ I 2 O I

Nevertheless, their overwhelming majority preferred suicide to baptism. Hence, what they held “tolerable” for others was unendurable for themselves. Publicly to declare their true faith false meant to them not only to offend and profane it, but also to attest—against their own conviction—that life as such was worthier in their eyes than the honor of their divine heritage. Thus, from their standpoint, forced conversion represented so base and shameful an act that they could not possibly go through with it; and hence their sui¬ cide resulted, above all, from a moral non-possumus of the highest order. 74. See on this my Marrams of Spain, pp. 13-iy. 1$. I find it hard to accept R. Chazan’s view (in his European Jewry and the First Crusade, 1987) that the “goal of the Crusaders was certainly not plunder” (p. 68), that their “violence was inspired primarily by ideas and ideals” (p. 64), and that “of the two alternative modes of destroying Judaism [i.e., death and conversion], the crusaders much preferred conversion” (pp. 72, 100; emphases added). There are testimonies in which deeds speak louder than words, although I find no definite statements contradicting what I intend to say. Thus the ghastly unending tortures inflicted by the crusaders on the wounded and the dying reflect more a wild and bestial hatred than the inspiration of ideas and ideals, while the stripping of the victims in all places of their clothes shows an insatiable thirst for plunder which would not give up the slightest spoil. The Jews of the Rhineland knew from the outset that they could save their lives through conversion, but this does not mean that the Jews’ conversion was the crusaders’ main interest. Had conversion been their “much preferred” aim, they would not

1202 ]

76. 77.

78. 79.

80.

81. 82. 83.

NOTES

have failed to agitate for it in some impressive manner (a failure noticed by Parkes, op. cit., p. 67), or at least to proclaim their demand for conversion prior to launching their major attacks. We have no evidence, however, of such proclamations in Worms or Mainz, or in smaller places such as Neus, or Xanten, or Eller. In Mehr the effort to convert the Jews was made by the mayor and in Trier by the bishop. In Speyer a warning appears to have been issued, but it may be ascribed to some of the townsmen who, while joining the crusaders, must have feared their upright bishop, and sought to “justify” their intended crimes by a display of some religious motive (later the bishop cut off the hands of burghers found guilty of pogromizing the Jews of Speyer). The above, I should add, fits to a great extent the desciption of the pogromists of 1096 as given by Albert of Aachen (see his Historia hierosolymitana in RHCHO, IV, 1879, pp. 289—295-, especially cap. xxix: pecuniae avaritia magis quam pro justitia Dei gravi caede mactaverant), except that Albert fails to mention the extreme hatred for the Jews which largely motivated the pogromists’ behavior. See the King’s letter to his brother, Duke Martin, in Baer, I, § 409, p. 656. See the royal order to the governor of Roussillon of Sept. 5, 1391 in Baer, I, p. 683, §432. Baer, History, II, pp. 102-103. See F. Fita, in RAH, Boletin, XVI (1890), p. 435-, and see ibid., p. 441 (the report of Guillermo Mascaro). See Julian de Chla, Bandosy Bandoleros in Gerona, I, 1888, p. 184; and cf E. C. Girbal, Los Audios de Gerona, 1870, p. 25. See Ramirez de Arellano, in RAH, Boletm, XXXVIII (1901), p. 297. Danvila, “El robo de la juderla de Valencia,” loc. cit., p. 372. Zuniga, op. cit., p. 252a.

(pages 166-168)

Paul of Burgos 1. This was also how he designated himself shortly after his conversion. See the conclusion of his letter to Lorki in Ozar Nechmad, II (185-7), P- ZL 2. His approximate date of birth may be established by the epitaph inscribed on his sepulcher stating that he died on August 29, 1435- at the age of 83 (aetatis vero suae LXXXIII); see Espana Sagrada, XXVI, 1771, p. 387. On his fa¬ mily origin and conditions, see Christophorus Sanctotis, “Vita D. D. Pauli Episcopi Burgensis,” published as introduction to a new edition of Paul’s Scrutinium Scripturarum, 15-91, p. 14a; and see also Luciano Serrano, Los Conversos D. Pablo de Santa Maria y D. Alfonso de Cartegena, 1942, pp. 9-10; and F. Cantera Burgos, Alvar Garcia de Santa Maria, 195-2, pp. 287-288. For his literary work, see Amador, Historia critica de la literatura espanola, V (1865-), pp. 333—337; id., Estudios, pp. 337-355, and Manuel Martinez Anibarro, Intento de un Diccionario Biogrdfico y Bibliografico de autores de la Provincia de Burgos, 1889, pp. 470-489. 3. According to Bonet Bongiorn, one of Paul’s converts to Christianity, Paul distinguished himself in various fields of science, especially in astronomy and geometry, to which he seems to have made some original contributions (see Profiat Duran’s epistle, “Don’t be like thy Fathers,” ms. 8° 757 of the National and University Library, Jerusalem, edited by A. Posnanski, f. 71). Besides these disciplines and philosophy, he studied Latin and Castilian, in both of which (judging by his writings) he attained a high degree of knowledge. It is noteworthy that compared to his Latin and Castilian works which are notable for their fluency and clarity, his two extant Hebrew pieces are written in a cumbersome, profuse and unnatural style. See especially his letter to Meir Alguades, published by A. Neubauer in

{pages 168-170)

NOTES

Israelitische Letterbode, X (1884—1885), p. 8iff and by I. Abrahams in JQR, XII (1900), p. 258ff. 4. See V. J. Antist, Vida de San Vicente Ferrer; 1575, cap. xix, p. 174 (in the edition cited below, n. 49); and Sanctotis, loc. cit., p. 2iab. 5. From Lorki’s expectation that Paul write a “new work” (and not ua work”) on the Christian-Jewish controversy (see L. Landau, Das apologetische Schreiben des Josua Lorki an den Abtrunnigen Don Salomon ha-Lewi, 1906, p. 18) Camera concluded that Paul had written several tracts in refutation of Christianity (see his “La conversion del celebre talmudista Salomon Levi,” in Bolethi de la biblioteca Menendez Pelayo, XV [1933], P- 42T n-1)- The con¬ clusion appears self-evident. Never¬ theless, it is hard to believe that if Paul had produced even one work in defense of Judaism, Lorki would have failed to cite it in his elaborate argument against Paul’s conversion. It is more likely therefore that by “a new work” Lorki meant a composition of a new kind that would differ from all other polemical writings in its more thorough treatment of the problems involved. 6. On the Jewish community in Burgos of the 14th century both before and af¬ ter the riots of 1391, see Lopez Mata, “Moreria y Juderfa,” in RAH, Boletln, 129 (1951), pp. 357-377; Cantera, Alvar Garcia, pp. 16-22; id., “La Juderia de Burgos,” in Sefarad, XII (1952), pp. 105-124; L. Serrano, op. cit., pp. 11—12. 7. See on this Ayala, Cronica de Don Juan / de Castilla, ano 1388, cap. 2 (BAE 68, pp. n8a-i2ob), and Camera, Alvar Garcia, p. 292ff. Baer {History, II, p. 437, n. 38) disagrees with Cantera’s reading of the Hebrew letters h.r.e.i.n.s.i (in Paul’s letter to Alguades) as arrehenes (or rehenes), which would indicate that he was one of the arrehenes (hostages)

[ 1203

referred to by Ayala {ibid., pp. 119a and 120a). According to Baer, Paul was a member of a diplomatic mission sent by the King of Castile to Aquitaine to take part in the negotiations for a truce between England and France, Castile’s ally. However, Paul’s statement (in the same letter) that he was kept in a “pit with the other prisoners of the King” (see JQR, XII, [1900], p. 258) can in no way refer to a member of such a mission, while it may allude (in Paul’s highfalutin Hebrew style) to a hostage who, though not treated as an ordinary prisoner, was watched and denied complete freedom of movement. 8. This is suggested by Lorki’s remark that, after becoming a functionary of the King, Paul provided for himself a “carriage, horses, and a retinue prepared to fulfill his wishes” (see Landau, op. cit., p. 2). 9. Paul speaks there of the religious reasons that moved him and his “colleagues” (haveray) to convert to Christianity (see ibid., p. 19; and cf. Ozar Nechmad, II, p. 5). 10. See the dirge on the losses the Jews suffered as a result of the catastrophe of 1391 (published by Schirmann in Kobez aljad, New Series, Ill-i [1939], p. 67), in which the leaders of the community of Burgos are described not only as “erring” (to'im) but also as “mis¬ leading” (mat'im)—in fact, as “enemies of the Jewish people” who, like Jeroboam of old, drove the community into the path of betrayal. As for the rabbi of Burgos (namely, Paul), he is described not only as an “enemy,” but as one who smote the community hardest (ve-harav hoveli), and the simile of Jeroboam must have been applied especially to him. From all this we may conclude that the move toward Christianity by Paul and the other notables (sarim) was accompanied by an active campaign for conversion aimed at convincing the faithful Jews

1 2°4 ]

NOTES

that what appeared to them as a gross misfortune was actually a blessing in disguise. 11. That most Burgensian Jews opposed the trend toward conversion is evident from the fact that so many of them were ready, while fleeing the pogromists, to leave behind them most of their possessions and pay large sums of money to Christian neighbors who provided them shelter from the rioters. See below, n. 14. 12. Relying on Sanctotis (loc. cit., p. 24b), Cantera, “La conversion,” loc. cit., p. 19, and L. Serrano {op. cit., p. 21) believed that Paul converted on July 21, 1390. But Graetz {Gescbichte, viii, [1890], p. 78, n. 2) has demonstrated, on the basis of Lorki’s letter, that Paul converted during the period of the riots. Baer believed that the change of date was made unintentionally, since “various authors used to ascribe the riots to 1390 instead of 1391” {History, II, p. 474, n. 40). It can hardly be doubted, however, that Paul and his family chose to show in their records that their conversion took place in 1390 (a year before the riots), thereby seeking to prove that they should not be counted among the forced converts of 1391. Sanctotis must have had such records before him. 13. No source is available for the date of the pogrom in Burgos. It may be assumed, however, that Amador de los Rios who stated unreservedly that the community of Burgos was attacked on August 12 (see above, p. 1200, n. yi) did so on the basis of some reliable source. That the assault on the Jews of Burgos resulted in large-scale destruction is indicated by Ayala’s inclusion of the Burgos community among the aljamas reduced to shambles by the riots {Cronica de Enrique III, ano 1, cap. 5; ed. BAE 68, p. 167a) and by King Enrique’s letters to the Council of Burgos dated July 20 and 30, 1392 (see Lopez Mata,

{pages 111-175) “Moreria 361-365).

y Juderia,”

loc.

cit.,

pp.

14. See Ayala, Cronica de Enrique III, ano 1391, cap. 5 (p. 1673b), where he attributes the extreme poverty of the unconverted Jews in various cities (including Burgos) to the “great gifts they gave the senores who sheltered them in that extreme tribulation.” 15. According to L. Serrano {op. cit., p. 29), he was graduated as “doctor.” However, according to Serrano’s source (Feret, La faculte de Theologie de Paris, III, p. 8), Paul gained upon his graduation the title of “master.” This is also what is stated by his biographer Sanctotis in his introduction to Paul’s Scrutinium, ed. 1591, p. 31a, and on the title page of that edition. 16. See L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 31. 17. See ibid., and Espana Sagrada, XXVI, p. 376a; and cf. Sanctotis, loc. cit., pp. 31-32. 18. See on this my Marranos of Spain, 19732, pp. 223-224. 19. See Profiat Duran’s Epistle, “Don’t be like thy Fathers”, loc. cit., f. 71. 20. Judging by the date of Duran’s epistle (see my Marranos of Spain, pp. 225-226). 21. Duran’s Epistle, loc. cit., f. 72. 22. Generaciones y Semblanzas, ed. Do¬ minguez Bordona, 1954, p. 89. 23. See Duran’s Epistle, in P. M. Heilpern’s ed. of Even Boban, II, 1946, p. 24, and my remarks on this point in my Marranos of Spain, 19732, p. 225. 24. See L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 42, and L. Suarez Fernandez, Castilla, el cisma y la crisis conciliar (13J8-144.0), i960, P- 47; 25. See ibid., p. 48. 26. See Ayala, Cronica de Enrique III, cap. 20 (pp. 265b, 266b). 27. Suarez Fernandez, op. cit., p. 64. 28. For the long list of Jewish functionaries and officials in Enrique Ill’s financial administration, see Baer, II, pp. 257-259.

{pages 175-193)

NOTES

29. See Cones of Alcala de Henares, 1348, §57 (CLC, I, pp. 532-534); Cones of Burgos, 1377, §2 (CLC, II, pp. 276-277). 30. See Baer, II, pp. in—112, §121. 31. Cortes of Valladolid, 1405, §1 (CLC, II, P- 547)32. Cortes of Burgos, 1367, §2 (CLC, I, p. 532)33. Cortes of Burgos, 1367, §2 (CLC, II, p. 146), and Cones of Burgos, 1377, §1 (CLC, II, pp. 275-276). 34. Cones of Valladolid, 1385, §10 (CLC,

II, pp. 326). 35. Cortes of Valladolid, 1405, §7 (CLC, II, pp. 55°-55i). 36. Ibid., ibid., p. 551. 37. Ibid., §4 (CLC, II, p. 549). 38. Ibid., ibid., $5 (CLC, II, pp. 549-550). 39. It is included in the Siete Partidas (lib. VII, tit. 24, law 11), which was adopted as the country’s law in 1348. 40. Cortes of Valladolid, 1405, §9 (CLC, II, pp. 552-553)41. See Baer, II, pp. 260-261; English translation of the same law in E. H. Lindo, The History of the Jews of Spam and Portugal, 1848, pp. 186—188. 42. See ibid., and Baer, II, p. 261. 43. See Serrano, op. cit., p. 54; Sebastian Puig y Puig, Pedro de Luna, 1920, pp. 175-187; Suarez Fernandez, op. cit., p. 64. 44. See L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 55. 45. See Baer, II, p. 261 ($273), at the conclusion of the decree. 46. Espina, Fortalitium Ftdei, lib. 3, De bello judeorum, mirabile undecimum, ff 223"—2231) Colmenares, Historia de Segovia, 1640, ano 1410, cap. 28, §§VI, VII, VIII, especially p. 324a (new critical and annotated edition: I, 1969, PP- 551-559)47. Ibid., ibid. 48. This may be gathered from Paul’s letter to Don Meir, which reflects an intimate association (see above, note 7)49. Of the literature dealing with Vicente Ferrer, mention must be made of H.

50.

51.

52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73.

[

12°5

Fages, Histoire de Saint Vincent Ferrier, 1892—1894, and Biografla y Escritos de San Vicente Ferrer, ed. J. M. de Garganta and V. Forcada, 1956. See also B. Llorca, “San Vicente Ferrer y su labor en la conversion de los Judios,” in Razon y Fe, CLII (1955), pp. 277—296, and F. Vendrell, “La actividad proselitista de san Vicente Ferrer durante el reinado de Fernando I de Aragon,” in Sefarad, XIII (1953), pp. 87-104. On his schooling see V. J. Antist, Vida de San Vicente Ferrer, cap. 2, in Biografla y Escritos (cited above, n. 49), pp. 102—106. SeeJ. M. Millas, “San Vicente Ferrer y el antisemitismo,” in Sefarad, x (1950), pp. 182—184, and R- Chabas, in RABM, VIII (1903), p. niff. See Baer, II, p. 62, §81. See RAH, Coleccion de fueros y cartas -pueblas de Espana, 1852, pp. 156-157. See Cortes of Valladolid, 1351, §31 (CLC, II, p. 19); cf. Baer, II, §181. See Gonzalez-Tejada, III, p. 617 (Council of Palencia, canon 5). Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 610. Amador, Historia, I, pp. 425-426. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1411, cap. vii, p. 336a; ano 1410, cap. 45, pp. 33311-3343. Ibid., ano 1411, cap. ix, p. 336b. Cronica de Juan //, ano 1411, cap. xxii, p. 34oab. Amador, op. cit., II, pp. 494-496. Graetz, Geschichte, viii (1890), p. 108. Lea, History, I, pp. 78-79. Baer, History, II, p. 166. Ibid., p. 169. J. Parkes, The Jews in the Medieval Community 1938, p. 135. L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 58. Baer, II, p. 265 (law 1). Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 266. Ibid., ibid, (law 5). Ibid., p. 269 (law 20).

I2o6 ]

NOTES

74. Ibid., pp. 265, 266, 269 (laws 2, 6, and 2°).

75. Ibid., p. 265 (law 2). Baer believed that the law of 1412 merely forbade Jewish physicians, surgeons and druggists to serve Christians, but the law does not contain this specification. It plainly says that no Jew or Moor was entitled to act as apothecary, etc. (nin algun judio o judia nin moro nin mora no sean especieros nin boticarios nin cirugianos nin fisycos). 76. Ibid., p. 267 (law 10). 77. Ibid., p. 266 (law 4); Lindo includes this prohibition in law y (op. cit. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82. 83. 84. 85.

P- 197)Cf. the laws of the Council of Elvira (above, p. 29 and p. 1185, n. 3.). Baer, II, p. 269 (law 18). Ibid., p. 268 (law 11). Ibid., p. 269 (law 19: No Jew or Moor shall hire any Christian to cultivate or work on their lands, vineyards, houses or other buildings). See above, p. 1205, n. 31. Baer, II, p. 267 (law 9). Ibid., p. 264. Ibid., p. 270.

86. Ibid., pp. 266—267 0aw l)87. The same effect was noted in Aragon (see Manuel Serrano y Sanz, Ortgenes de la dominacion Espanola en America, 1913, p. 68), although the laws issued there by Fernando were somewhat less severe. In a subsequent discussion of the laws of 1412, Lea (History, I, pp. 116—117) said that these laws built a “wall” around the Jews and Moors from which they could escape only through baptism. In the area surrounded by that wall, however, Lea assumed that survival was possible—an assumption that seems to us most questionable, especially with respect to the Jews. 88. Sefer Yuhasin, ed. Filipowski, p. 225b. 89. Amador, Historia, II, p. 493. 90. Graetz, op. cit., VIII (1890), p. 108; Lea,

91. 92. 93.

94. 95. 96. 97.

98. 99.

100.

101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106.

107.

108.

109.

no.

(pages 193-202)

History, I, p. 116. Lea, in fact, believed that this entire legislation was drawn up by Paul. L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 57. Cantera, Alvar Garcia, p. 308. Ibid., p. 238. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1411, cap. 22 (BAE 68, p. 34oab). See Baer, II, p. 270. See above, pp. 194, 197. Completed in 1434, it first appeared in print in 1470; and see below, pp. 206, 1207, n. 127. See Scrutinium, 1591, distinctio VI, cap. 1, ff. 495a—498a. Ibid., ibid., f. 532a. Evidence of this desire of the Jews is seen by Paul in the dominant position assumed by Samuel Halevi under Pedro the Cruel. Ibid., f. 523b; Paul identifies Martinez as “quidam Diaconus” of the Metropolitan Church of Seville. Ibid., f. 524b. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., f. j^b-j^b. Ibid., f. 49a. See Fages, op. cit., pp. 303-348. Ibid., p. 296: a la fin d’un sermon de jour de Saint Antoine, il pouvait dire: “Sachez une bonne nouvelle: les juifs et les moures se convertisse tous a Valladolid.” For the list of the communities in north-west Castile that suffered great losses as a result of the conversions, see the lament published by Graetz, Geshichte, VIII (1890), pp. no—in, n. 2. On the severity of the enforcement, see ibid., p. in (ve-hehemiru ad hemiru), and Alami’s statements cited below in Appendix A, p. 1099. See R. Menendez Pidal, “El Com¬ promise de Caspe,” in Historia de Espaiia, XV, pp. cxiii-cxxcii. The laws issued by Fernando in Cifuentes for the part of Castile he governed as regent were published by T. Minguella y Arnedo (Historia de la

{pages 202-207)

NOTES

diocesis de Sigiienza, II, 1912, p. 620E); those for Aragon were included by J. L. Villanueva in his Viaje literario en las Iglesias de Espana, v. 22, pp. 2y8fF. For an English translation of the latter laws, see Lindo, op. cit. pp. 2ioff; cf. Baer, I, p. 790. hi. See B. Llorca, “San Vicente Ferrer y su labor en la conversion de los Judios,” in Razony Fe, 152 (1955), p. 293. On Ferrer in Majorca, see Antist, op. cit., pp. 181—183. We should not be surprised that most of the converts he gained there were from among the Moslems. In December, 1412, when he visited Majorca, Fernando had not yet published in Barcelona his own version of Catalina’s laws. 112. On Lorki, see Amador, Historia, II, pp. 432 433> 446-448-

113. On the disputation of Barcelona, see Baer, History, I, pp. 152-155 and Tarbiz, II (1931), pp. 177-187; C. Roth, “The Disputation of Barcelona (1263),” Harvard Theological Review, XLIII (1950), pp. 117—144; Martin A. Cohen, “Reflections on the text and context of the Disputation of Barcelona,” HUCA, xxxv (1964), pp. 157-192; and J. Cohen, The Friars and the Jews, 1982, pp. 108-128. 114. Jeschurun, ed. Joseph Kobak, VI (1868) ny.

116.

117.

118.

P- 47Ibn Verga, Solomon, Shevet Yehuda, ed. Baer-Schohat, 1947, p. 96; J. Kobak, ed., Jeschurun, VI (1868), p. 47. See Shevet Yehuda, pp. 97—98,105 (lines 26-32); and the detailed summary of A. Pacios Lopez, La Disputa de Tortosa, I, 1957, pp. 253-290. For the entire proceedings of the Disputation (in Latin), see A. Pacios Lopez, La Disputa de Tortosa, II, 1957. See Amador, Historia, II, pp. 434-446, and Lorki’s summaries of the Tortosa debates concerning the coming of the Messiah and the validity of the Talmud in Pacios Lopez, op. cit., II, pp. 549-556, 589—593. See also the

[ >2°7

119.

120.

121. in. 123. 124. 125.

126. 127.

submissive admission of Astruch, the Jewish spokesman, of his inability to explain Talmudic statements which, on the face of it, are offensive and embarassing, though he attributed his inability to intellectual inadequacy, and not to the impropriety of the Sages involved. On the tendency to convert among the Jewish notables who came to Tortosa, see the testimony of the contemporary poet Bonafed in my Marrams of Spain, p. 107, n. 62. Published by Amador in his Historia, II, pp. 627—653 (appendix 20). On the contents of the bull, see ibid., pp. 506—510. Cantera, op. cit., pp. 410—411; Zurita, Anales, lib. XII, cap. 45. See L. Serrano, op. cit., p. 63. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1415, cap. 20 (BAE 68, p. 367b). L. Serrano, op. cit., pp. 65-66. See Suarez Fernandez, Castilla, el cisma y la crisis conciliar, i960, pp. 77—79, L. Serrano, op. cit., pp. 65-67. See Sanctotis, “Vita Pauli,” loc. cit., p. 53a. Ibid., p. 70b. The Conversos Enter Spanish Society

1. Diego Ortiz de Zuniga, Annales eclesidsticos y seculares de Sevilla, 1677, p. 252a, says that, following the riots of 1391, “most of the Juderia remained a wasteland,” while according to Ayala, Cronica de Enrique III, cap. 20 (BAE, 68, p. 177b), “most of the Jews who had been there [i.e., in the Juderia] turned Christian.” Thus, the conversions during the assault did not prevent (in most cases) large-scale robbery and destruction of property. The plunder of Jewish possessions was, in fact, so massive that it led Ayala to state that the desire to rob the Jews was the main motive of the attackers {ibid., cap. 5, p. 166a).

I2o8 ]

NOTES

2. A clear testimony of this is offered by the Jews of Aragon in their letter to Pope Eugene IV (see below, p. 279). 3. For the misery of the Jews after the riots see Ayala, op. cit., cap. 5, pp. 166-167 (even those who “escaped” the outrages of the pogroms remained “very poor owing to the great gifts they gave to the Senores for guarding them in so great a tribulation”); and see the letter of Enrique III to the city of Burgos (dated July 20, 1392) which freed the remaining Jews of the community from payment of all debts and taxes to the Crown on the ground that “los non poder pagar, pues fincaron muy pobres despues del dicho robo;” see Cantera, Alvar Garcia, p. 24. 4. See on this my Marrams of Spain, index, v. Marranos. 5. See ibid. p. 92, and n. 23; and see Profiat Duran, Ma'ase Efod, 1865, p. 195. 6. Ibid., and The Marranos of Spain, p. 92 and n. 24. 7. See ibid. pp. 87-88; and see Profiat Duran, “Kelimat ha-Goyim,” in Hazofe me-Erez Hagar, III (1914), p. 102. 8. Ibid., p. 103; cf. The Marranos of Spain, pp. 90-91. 9. See ibid., pp. 84-87. 10. Such as Juan de Valladolid, who con¬ fronted Moses ha-Kohen of Tordesillas in a public disputation in Avila in

11.

12.

13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

{pages 207-224)

1375. See the latter’s ‘Ezer ha-Emuna (written in 1379), introduction, ms. 659/353 of the National and University Library, Jerusalem. See for this, too, Duran’s testimony cited in my Marranos of Spain, p. 90; the increased number of the missionary converts, which is already indicated by Moses of Tordesillas (1379), may be attributed also to agitators for Christianity who came from the converts of the civil war (see above, p. 116). And see concerning this my work on the books of Haqanah and Hapeliah, in S. IV. Baron Jubilee Volume, III, 1975, p. 260. See his Magen va-Romah, ms. no. 787 of the National and University Library of Jerusalem, introduction, p. 1. E. Renan, Averroes et lAverroisme, 1861, p. 183. Baer, I, p. 350: va-asher heemiru hemiru. See above, pp. 171 and 1203, n. 10. See my citations from Bonafed in The Marranos of Spain, p. 107. Baer, History, II, pp. i62ff; 253^ and other places indicated in the index, v. Averroism. See my Marranos of Spain, pp. 110-121. See ibid., p. 105. See his Iggeret Musar, ed.Jellinek, 1872, pp. 45-46.

BOOK TWO

The Reign of Juan II The King and His Minister 1. Cf. the studies of Alvaro by Manuel Jose Quintana, Vidas de los Espaiioles Celebres, III, 1833; Jose Rizzo y Ramirez, Juicio critico y significaccion politica de Don Alvaro de Luna, 1963; Cesar Silio, Alvaro de Luna y su Tiempo, 1935, and the latest and most detailed work on Alvaro and his time by L. Suarez Fernandez, Historia de Espana (dirigida por R. Menendez Pidal), XV, 1964, pp. 30-217. An important study of Alvaro’s

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

downfall is Nicholas G. Round’s The Greatest Man Uncrowned, 1986. See on this Jose Amador de los Rios, in Revista de Espana, XIX (1871), p. 245. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1419, cap. 1 (BAE, 68, p. 377b). Ibid., ibid. Ibid. Ibid., cap. 2, p. 378a Ibid., cap. 5, p. 378b. See Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, ed. Carriazo, 1946, p. 17 (cap. 58).

(pages 224-245)

9. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 43, p. 396b. 10. We may safely conclude this from Alvar Garcia’s remark on Don Abraham: que era de Juan Furtado (see his Cronica de Don Juan II de Castilla, in CODOIN, 99, p. 90). Don Abraham would not have been regarded as “Mendoza’s man” unless he had steadily served the Major Majordomo in some high financial capacity. 11. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1419, cap. 10, p. 380a. 12. Ibid., p. 380b. 13. Ibid., ano 1420, cap. 2, p. 3803b. 14. Ibid., ibid., p. 381b; and cf. Alvar Garcia’s Cronica, in CODOIN, 99, pp. 89—90. iy. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 2, p. 381b. 16. Ibid., ibid., cap. 3, p. 381b. 17. See his account of Juan II’s reign in Historia de Espana, XV, p. 75. 18. Generaciones y Semblanzas, 195-4, PP103—104. 19. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 17, p. 3873b; cf. Alvar Garcia’s Cronica, in CODOIN, 99, pp. 130-131. 20. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 17, p.

387b21. Refundicion de la Cronica del Halconero, ed. Carriazo, 1946, pp. 37-38. 22. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 29, p. 39iab. 23. Ibid., pp. 391b—392a. 24. Ibid., p. 391b; Alvar Garcia’s Cronica, CODOIN, 99, cap. 42, p. 154. 25-. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1420, cap. 37, p. 2 6. 27. 28. 29.

394b. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

[

NOTES

ibid. cap. 38, p. 395-a. cap. 40, p. 395b. pp. 395-b—396a; and cf. Cronica del

Halconero, p. 14. 30. Cronica de Juan II, p. 398b (cap. 47). 31. Alvaro’s activities on behalf of the Jews have to this day received no adequate treatment by the historians of the Jews of Spain. Amador de los Rios, and in his wake Graetz, who correctly

32.

33. 34. 35.

pointed out the great part he played in the restoration of Spanish Jewry, did not as yet possess the necessary documents to prove their contention. On the other hand, they attributed to Alvaro’s influence the pragmatica issued by Juan II on April 6, 1443 in reaction to Pope Eugene IV’s bull of August 8,1442, which reaffirmed many of the laws of 1412 (see Amador, Historia, III, pp. 44, 583-589; Graetz, Geschicbte, VIII3, p. 148). This attribution is an error. In April 1443 Alvaro was out of office and the administration was in the hands of his adversary, Juan I of Navarre, without whose explicit consent and instructions the pragmatica would not have been issued. It is also wrong to see in this order a strong pro-Jewish position. Juan of Navarre, who needed the support of both the Pope and Castile’s cities (undoubtedly the inspirers of the papal bull), accepted all the Pope’s severe restrictions, but sought to reduce their apparent rigor in an effort to placate and encourage the Jews. This, and the admin¬ istration’s long delay in formally adopting the bull’s decrees, merely show that he was extremely reluctant to part with the system of Jewish tax-collection (and other services) established by his predecessor. See Quintana, op. cit., p. 45 (El era criador de aquel partido que podia llamarse del Rey); Rizzo, op. cit., p. 222. Ibid., appendix 3, p. 326. Cronica del Halconero, pp. 327—328. Alvar Garcia, Cronica, in CODOIN, 100,

p. 309. 36. Ibid., pp. 309-310. 37. Ibid., p. 311. 38. Cortes of Toro, 1371, §13 (CLC, II, 1863, p. 208). 39. Cortes of Madrid, 1419, $18 (CLC, III, pp. 20—21). 40. Cortes of Palenzuela, 1425, §10 (CLC, HI, P- J6).

I 2 I O ]

NOTES

41. Cortes of Zamora, 1432, §5 (CLC, III, pp. 120—121): Aesto vos respondo que estd asaz bien por mi rrespondido e proueydo. 42. See Cortes of Madrid, 1419, §5 (CLC, III, p. 14); Cortes of Palenzuela, 1425, $30 (CLC, III, pp. 69-70); Cortes of Zamora, 1432, §11 (CLC, III, pp. 125-128). In the latter Cortes the King undertook not to send corregidores to any city unless all the members of the city council or their majority requested it {ibid., p. 127). That the King reneged on his promise, however, is evident from the renewed petition on this matter in the Cortes of Madrid, 1435, §17 (CLC, III, pp. 205—206) as well as from his response to that petition, in which he did not reiterate the promise he gave in Zamora. 43. Cortes of Burgos, 1430, §13 (CLC, III, p. 85); Cortes of Zamora, 1432, §2 (CLC, III, p. 118); Cortes of Valladolid, 1442, §12 (CLC, III, p. 407). 44. Manuel Colmeiro, Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, I, 1883, p. 514. 45. Cronica del Halconero, p. 327. 46. Ibid., pp. 521-522; and below, pp.

6.

7.

8.

9.

354-355, 375-37747. Cortes of Valladolid, 1447, §23 (CLC, III, p. 525).

Precursors of Toledo, 1449 1. See especially M. Menendez y Pelayo, Historia de los Heterodoxos Espanoles, ed. E. Sanchez Reyes, 19632, II, pp. 470-471; also L. Delgado Merchan, Historia documentada de Ciudad Real, 2nd ed., 1907, p. 148; and more recently, Manuel Alonso, in his introduction to Alonso de Cartagena’s Defensorium unitatis christianae, 1943, P- 22- The latter two writers, it should be noted, adopted Menendez Pelayo’s view. 2. Historia de los Heterodoxos Espanoles, (ed. cited above), II, p. 471. 3. Ibid., p. 470. 4. See on this below, pp. 354—355. 5. The conversions in the Gothic period,

10.

11. 12.

13. 14.

( pages 245-257)

which were dealt with above (pp. 35—53), obviously form a distinct line of evolution, though they often parallel in important respects the course of developments we are about to survey. On the Christian and Jewish sources for these events, see my study “Did the Toledans in 1449 Rely on a Real Royal Privilege?,” in PAAJR, XLIV (1977), p. 123, notes 64—65. See Tomas Munoz y Romero, Coleccion de Fueros Municipales, etc., I. 1847, pp. 363-367. Ibid., p. 365. The original version of the law reads:. . . nullus judeus, nullus nuper renatus habeat mandamentum super nullum christianum in Toleto, nee in suo territorio. Cod. Theod., XVI, 8. 16, 22, 25, 27, and especially Nov. Theod., Ill, 2, from the year 438 (declaring all )e.ws ineligible for any public office), which was followed by Cod. Just., lib. I, tit. 5, law 12, and lib. I, tit. 9, law 19. See also the Church Councils’ decrees in Gaul in the 5th, 6th and 7th centuries (Council of Clermont [535], canon 9; of Macon [581], c. 13; of Paris [614], c. 17) and in Spain in the 6th and 7th centuries (3rd Toledan Council, canon 14; 4th Tol. Council, c. 65; 8th Tol. Council, c. 12). On Jews in Alfonso’s diplomatic service, see Primera Cronica General de Espana, ed. R. Menendez Pidal, II, 1955, P- 552b, 568a; Amador, Histor¬ ia, I, 183-184; R. Dozy, Histoire des Musulmans dEspagne, ed. E. LeviProvenyal, III, 1932, p. 119; Baer, Die Juden, II, p. 14 ($29). Ibid., II, p. 5 (§12). See Baer, History, I, pp. 50-51. A dirge on his death was composed by Yehuda Halevi; see his Diwan, ed. Brody, II (1909), pp. 92-99). According to Halevi, the assassination occurred on May 3, 1108; see ibid., p. 99, lines 141—142. For this date see Fidel Fita, in RAH, Boletln, VII (1885), p. 75, n. 2. See above, p. 68.

{page 251)

NOTES

15. According to Amador, the left wing of Alfonso’s army consisted almost entirely ofjews who were suspected to have shown irresolution in the face of the enemy’s attack, thereby causing the collapse of the entire Christian front {Historia de los Judios, I, p. 189). F. Cantera (in WHJP, The Dark Ages, ed. Cecil Roth, 1966, p. 377) accepts the gist of Amador’s contention, although, as Baer has pointed out {Die Juden, II, p. 10), no evidence is available to support it. This, however, does not invalidate the assumption that (at least since the time of Alfonso VI) Jews fought with the armies of the Reconquest, or otherwise with forces of the kings of Castile—an assumption to which a variety of sources (Moslem, Christian and Jewish) lend considerable cre¬ dence. The Moslem sources relate to the battle of Zalaca (1086) and sound highly exaggerated or legendary. Moreover, they are included in works written more than two and a half centuries after the event (such as Kitab al-Ihata and El-Hulal), which further reduces their credibility. Nevertheless, at least one of them (Kitab al-Ihata) relies on a much earlier source (that of Yahya ben Mohammad ben As-Seirafi, who died in 1174), and the very exaggeration that 40,000 Jews (!) fought on the Christian side (see Amador, Historia de los Judios, I, p. 185, n. 2) suggests that the statement had a factual core. Likewise, the probably fictional account that, prior to the battle, King Alfonso proposed that, considering the manyjews in his army, Saturday (like Friday and Sunday) be declared a day of rest for all contending forces (see Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Las Grandes batallas de la Reconquista durante las invasiones Africanas, 1956, p. 46; and see also Dozy, Histoire, III, p. 127, n. 2) indicates that Jews, in no mean number, participated in that battle on the Christian side.

[ I 2 I I

Other sources, Christian and Jewish, also lead us to the same conclusion. Of the latter, most significant in our judgment is Yehuda Halevi’s poem, “I shall bemoan my bitter troubles” {Diwan, ed. Brody, IV, 1930, pp. 131-133), whose meaning has escaped the scholars who have dealt with it. Yehuda Halevi, who lived in Toledo during the battle of Ucles (1108) and the massacres that followed, describes these massacres as an “act of vengeance” and relates them to the preceding war. He says: Between the armies of the Christians and the Moslems My own army was lost, So that now there are no more in Israel Soldiers fit to serve in battle. (p. 131, lines 7-8) It is difficult to understand these verses by reading symbolic meaning into the words “our army was lost” in conjunction with the phrase bein ziv'ot se'ir ve-kedar and the sentence vene'edaryoze za'va be-yisrael. Most proba¬ bly, what they indicate is that all Jews trained and prepared for war were mo¬ bilized for the battle of Ucles and that the Jewish force was virtually wiped out. Yehuda Halevi seems to reject the claim that the great defeat at Ucles re¬ sulted from a Jewish retreat. He says: “When they [namely, the Christians] fight their wars, we fall when they fall” {ibid., line 9), suggesting that the defeat of the Jewish units resulted from the failure of the Christian, not the Jewish forces, to hold off the enemy. Another poem of Yehuda Halevi (“The Philistines are Gathered,” ibid., p. 134), written most probably before the battle of Ucles, describes the poet’s concern over the fate of the Jews who were to take part in that violent clash. Comparing the Jews among the other combatants to “the youngest of lambs among rams and bulls” (lines 12-13), asks: “How can a flock be saved when

12 12]

NOTES

it is led by Lions?” His answer is: “Only by amazing deeds, heroic acts and miracles” (lines 14—15). The poet realized the great danger in which the Jews (whom he judged much inferior to the other combatants in both military skill and numbers) were put when the “lions” were leading them to bat¬ tle. He relied on a miracle to save them, but also on their innate heroism and ability to perform “amazing deeds” The other Jewish testimony needs no interpretation, for its meaning is as apparent as its value. It comes from the German rabbinic authority Eliezer ben Yoel Halevi of Bonn who, in one of his responsa, states unreservedly: “It is still a general practice in Spain for the Jews to go out to war together with the King” (see Sefer Rabiah, Jerusalem, 1965, IV, p. 98, no. 900 [and not no. 820, as printed erroneously in Aptowitzer’s In¬ troduction, 1938, p. 464]; see also Isaac ben Moses of Vienna, Or Zaru'a, 1,1862, p. 194b, no. 693; and cf. S. W. Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews, IV, pp. 36 and 43). The testimony dates from c. 1200 (ibid., p. 448, n. 2), but ap¬ parently refers to an old custom. This brings us to the related Chris¬ tian sources; and of these mention should first be made of the fuero granted by Alfonso VII to Guadalajara in 1139. In this fuero Alfonso imposed upon the Jews of that town the duty to go with the King to battle in the same proportion that was obligatory to the Knights, and also to the Moors of that town (Cavalleros vayan en hueste con el rey las dos partes, et la tercera parte finque en la cibdat . . . mientras jodios et moros en Guadafayara non fagan aqui menos; cf. Amador, Historia, I, p. 194, n. 3). Of the other Christian testimonies to this effect priority should be given, in our opinion, to the Cronica Adefonsi Imperatoris (ed. L. Sanchez Belda, 1950),

{page 251) written by a contemporary of Alfonso VII (ibid., pp. ix-xvii). It tells us that when the commander of the castle of Burgos (which was held in behalf of the King of Aragon) refused to surrender it to the King of Castile, the Jews and Christians who sided with the latter took the castle by storm (a iudaeis et christianis expugnatus est) and delivered it to the king (ibid., p. 8). Luis G. de Valdeavellano, Historia de Espana, I (2), 1955, p. 425, believed that the reference was not to Alfonso’s troops, but to the citizens of Burgos and its neighbor¬ hood. The conjecture is reasonable. Even so, the Cronica testifies to the Jews’ military participation in the bat¬ tles of the time. Especially notable is the fact that among the assailants of the castle (Jews and Christians) the Jews are mentioned first. That the Jews were also militarily responsible for castles placed ex¬ clusively in their hands we learn from a number of documents dating from the time of Alfonso VIII (see Julio Gonzalez, El Reino de Castilla en la epoca de Alfonso VIII, 1,1950, pp. 131,132,133, 719; II, p. 440 [doc. number 267, dated Aug. 25,1178]; on the castle of Haro: III, p. 660 [doc. number 962, undated]; on that of Zorita: III, 710 [doc. number 991, Dec. 20, 1215]. On castles held by Jews in later times see Baer, Die Juden, II, doc. 205 from 1376 (p. 196) and two docu¬ ments relating to the castle of Soria: no. 319 from 1465 (p. 331) and no. 342 from 1484 (P- VS)We ought to mention also another piece of evidence (dating from the middle of the 14th century) that bears significantly on our subject. When Al¬ fonso XI asked Pope Clement VI for a permit to build a new synagogue in Seville, he supported his request by the claim qui iudei sunt summe necessarii, quia contribuunt in necessitatibus civitatis necnon aliquotiens exeunt una cum chris¬ tianis adversus saracenos, et se exponere

{pages 251-259)

NOTES

morti non formidant (Baer, II, p. 163, doc. no. 167). 16. That the pogroms in Spain were mainly or entirely the work of the residents of the towns involved is stated in the fueros of Castrojeriz and Toledo, as confirmed by Alfonso I el Batallador (Munoz, op. cit., p. 41) and Alfonso VII {ibid., p. 366), as well as in the Carta condonationis (letter of forgiveness) which the latter king gave Saldana, Carrion and other places for the outrages they had committed against the Jews {Indice . . . de Sahagun, ed. V. Vignau, 1874, pp. 24-25). 17. Evidence of this attitude had already been provided in 1035, when the Christians of Castrojeriz attacked the Jewish community and killed 60 of its members (see Munoz, op. cit., pp. 39—40). Like the disturbances of 1109, this outbreak too occurred shortly after the death of the king (Sancho el Mayor of Navarre), before one of his heirs, Fernando I, established his authority in Castile (see ibid., p. 39). How anxious the citizens of Castro were to clear their town of the remainingjews we can gather from the fact that shortly thereafter (regnante Rex Fernandus) they evicted all the surviving Jews from their houses and estates and transferred them to Castrillo, probably a half-abandoned castle in the vicinity of the town. Seventy-five years later, during the riots of 1109, the people of Castrojeriz attacked the Jews of Castrillo, “killing some of them, taking others captive, and putting all of them to the sack” ( ibid., p. 41). Baer’s reconstruction of the events of 1035, in which he identified Castrillo with Castrojeriz {History, I, p. 43), is clearly misconceived. See L. Huidoboro y Sena, “La juderia de Castrojeriz,” in Sefarad, VII (1947), PP137-H 518. See Munoz, op. cit., p. 366; and see further, for the date of the Toledan

19.

20.

21.

22. 23.

[1213

fuero, my study in PAAJR, XLIV (1977), p. 124, n. 66. According to A. M. Burriel, Informe de la Imperial Ciudad de Toledo, 1780, pp. 287-288, Escalona received, on the same date, the identical fuero given to Toledo and possessed the original text of that fuero at the time of Burriel’s writing. Disregarding this clear-cut evidence, A. Garcfa-Gallo (in his study “Los Fueros de Toledo,” in AHDE, XLV [1975], pp. 390—398) claimed that Escalona received its fuero on Jan. 4, 1130, as is indicated by the text of the fuero for that town, first published by J. A. Llorente in his Noticias historicas de las tres Provincias Vascongadas, 1808, IV, pp. 39-43. It is difficult to accept this claim in view of the fact that Burriel, who had seen the text indicated by Llorente, related it to a special (i.e., second) fuero which Alfonso VII granted that town (see Burriel, op. cit., number 105, and Munoz, op. cit., p. 485, n. 1). Literally, “recently reborn,” conveying the essence of conversion to Christ¬ ianity according to Christian doctrine; and see above, n. 8. Only high ecclesiastic offices were barred to neophytes, generally within a year from their conversion. See on this below, pp. 570-571. See on this my above-cited work in PAAfR, XLIV (1977), pp. 99—10°, io4ffi, 122—125. See ibid., especially p. 125. They evidently took the “recently” of nuper renati to mean a very short time ago, while some of their descendants could then claim with good reason that they had never been converts to begin with. It stands to reason that such arguments found supporters among the Old Christians as well. And cf.

above, n. 20. 24. Cf. A. Dfaz de Montalvo’s comments on the Fuero Real de Espaiia, lib. IV, tit. 3, ley 2 (ed. 1781, II, p. 352a).

12 1 4 ]

26. 27.

28.

29.

NOTES

This might have also contributed to the fact that the Privilege fell into desuetude (see above, n. 24). See Munoz, op. cit., p. 382. See Fernando Ilfs extensions of the fuero of Toledo for Cordova (1241) and Carmona (1252) in Memorias de Don Fernando III, ed. Miguel de Manuel Rodriguez, 1800, pp. 460, 542. The relevant text in the fuero of Cordova reads: ningun judio, nin ninguno de nuevamente cristiano, and in that of Carmona: ningunt judio nin tornadizo. Thus, in the privilege given Alicante (1252), the reference is not to recent converts generally, but specifically to the recently converted among Jews (ningun judio, que nuevamente sea torna¬ do cristiano); see Coleccion de Privilegios de la Corona de Castilla, VI, 1833, p. 97. Several generations after the con¬ versions of 1391, the descendants of these converts were still defined as “recently converted.” See the dis¬ cussion of this issue below, pp. 553,

57°~57h 887-889. 30. In view of the inclusion of the anti-convert clause in the fueros of Cordova (1241) and Carmona (1247), it is difficult to see why Fernando III should have excluded it from his fuero of Seville (1250), especially since all these fueros supposedly followed the Toledan fuero of 1118 as confirmed by Fernando III in 1222. Yet it is a fact that the Sevillian fuero contains no stipulation about converts, and instead it says “que ningun Iudio, ni ningun Moro ayan ningun mandamyento sobre ningun Christiano en Toledo, ni en su termino daqui adelante” (see Zuniga’s Annales eclesiasticos, p. 27). The extant version, however, is not the original of either the Toledan or the Sevillian grants. The text of the fuero given to Seville was lost c. 1285, and the Sevillians, wishing to have at their disposal the fuero of Toledo that had served as model for their own,

31. 32. 33. 34.

35. 36.

37.

{pages 259-261) obtained from the Toledans a copy of that fuero, and soon thereafter, it seems, translated it (see the Romance version, which alone was preserved, in Zuniga, op. cit., pp. 26-29). Munoz, who considered the translation faulty and the contents “very incorrect,” did not include it in his collection (see his cited work, p. 363, n. 1). The clause about the Moors, then, may have been a product of these “errors,” while, on the other hand, it could be deliberate. Possibly by means of the Toledan document (i.e., the fuero of 1118), and with the aid of their memory, the Sevillians tried to restore the text of their fuero (which must have differed in some points from the Toledan), and this work of restoration was “supervised,” in all likelihood, by officials of Sancho IV (significantly, even the copy of the Latin text referred to was entrusted, at Sancho’s order, to his alcalde; see Zuniga, op. cit., p. 26b). This could have given rise to departures from the original in accordance with the current royal policy, which by then, as we know, was already opposed to discrimination against converts (see on this below, pp. 260—262). See above, notes 27-28. See above, n. 27. Fuero Real, lib. IV, tit. iii, ley 2. Concerning this date see Pedro Gomez de la Serna, introd. to the Partidas, in Codigos Espanoles, II, 18722, pp. xviii-xix. Las Siete Partidas, VII, tit. xxv, ley 3. On the contrary, the law indicates that the converts viewed Christianity as superior to their previous faith (. . . despues que ban entendimiento, e conoscen la mejoria de nuestra fe, la rescihen), ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid.: mandamos que todos los cristianos e Christianas de nuestro Senorio fagan honrra e bien en todas las maneras que pudieren a todos

{pages 261-263)

38. 39.

40. 41.

42.

43. 44. 47.

NOTES

quantos de las creencias estranas vinieren a nuestra fe, bien assi como farian a otro qualquier que de sus padres o de sus auuelos ouiesse uenido o seydo christiano. The italicized words clearly convey the importance of the ethnic factor in the anti-convert agitation. And cf. below, n. 39. See above, n. 37. Las Siete Partidas, VII, tit. 27, ley 3: E si alguno contra esto fuere, mandamos que reciba pena de escarmiento por ende, a bien vista de los judgadores del lugar, e dengela mas crudamente que si lo fiziesse a otro ome, 0 muger, que todo su linaje de abuelos, o de visauuelos, ouiessen seydo christianos. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., tit. 24, ley 6. Note the expression: ninguno non sea osado de retraer a ellos, run a su linaje, de como fueron judios en manera de denuesto. It may be argued that the reminder of the “Jewish lineage” and the convert’s former religion implied the charge that the converts from Judaism were secretly devoted to their ancestral faith. If so, the lawmaker rejected this charge (obviously because he found nothing to support it), as is evident from his unqualified order to “honor” them and treat them “as all other Christians” (ibid., ibid.). See above, n. 41. Las Siete Partidas, VII, tit. 24, ley 3. On Penafort and his missionary effort in Spain, see Jeremy Cohen, The Friars and the Jews, 1981, pp. 104-108. Concerning his influence on Jaime I, King of Aragon, see F. Valls T aberner, San Ramon de Penafort, 1936, pp. 98, 123-131. On his particular position in the Disputation of Barcelona (1263), see Kitvei R. Moshe ben Nahman, ed. Ch. Chavel, 19712, I, pp. 302-303, 319-320 (Hebrew); Amador, Historta, I, 433-436; and Graetz, Geschichte, VII (2nd ed.), 130-131, 137. On his actions following the disputation, see the

[ I2IJ

documents published by H. Denifle in Historisches Jahrbuch, Munich, VIII (1887), 234-244; I. Loeb, “La Contraverse de 1263 a Barcelona,” in REJ, XV (1887), pp. 16-17; Martin Cohen, in HUCA, xxxv (1964), pp. 180—181. 46. Besides the stipulation against taunting converts “under the pain of a fine to be determined by the judge”—a stipulation directed against the attitude of the Christians toward “converts from Judaism or paganism” (i.e., Islam), the decree also sought to remove obstacles to conversion stemming from the attitudes of the converts’ former brethren. Thus it secured the convert’s rights to possessions which were denied him under Moslem law and the in¬ heritance rights of his children (and relatives), who may receive “what they would have been able to claim reasonably if he had died a Jew or a pagan” (see on this L. Ginzberg, Genizah Studies, II, 1929, p. 122; M. B. Lewin, Otzar Hageonim, IX [Qiddushin], pp. 30-34; 7-8, part IV, 61—62; Baron, op. cit., Ill, pp. 143-144; and cf. my Marranos of Spain, 19732, p. 17, n. 47, and below, n. 72). In addition, the law compelled Jews and Saracens to attend missionary sermons, “whenever an archbishop, bishop, or friar, Dominican or Franciscan . . . wishes to preach the word of God.” The decree, included in Innocent IV’s letter to the archbishop of Tarragona, was reproduced and translated by S. Grayzel in his The Church and the Jews in the 13th Century, 1966 (revised ed.), pp. 274-277. 47. On the strong probability that Penafort influenced the legislative work of Alfonso X, see Jose Gimenez y Martinez de Carvajal, “San Raimundo de Penafort y las Partidas de Alfonso X el Sabio,” in Anthologica annua, Rome, III (1977), especially pp. 329-338.

I 2 I 6 ]

(pages 264-267)

NOTES

48. The preamble to the general law reads, as we have noted: “Many people live and die in foreign faiths who would prefer to become Christians, etc.”. The opening of the law concerning converts from Judaism likewise broaches the same question: “Since some Jews may be converted to Christianity,” etc.; see above, p. 261. 49. For a detailed description of Alfonso’s attempt and the papal reactions to it, see Antonio Ballesteros Beretta, Alfonso X el Sabio, 1963, pp. 153—160, 177-189, 213-224, 240-243, 332-345, 409-416, 536-544, 674-677, and 706-732; see also H. Otto, “Alexander IV. und der deutsche Thronstreit,” Mittheilungen des Instituts fur Oesterreichische Geschichtsforschung XIX (1898), pp. 75—91. 50. This explains why both Ferdinand III (in the fuero for Cordova, 1241) and Alfonso X (in the fuero for Alicante, 1252) insisted that their almojarife, if he was a convert, should be excluded from the prohibition on converts from Judaism occupying public office. See Baer, Die Juden, II, p. 9. 51. Although convert cooperation with the Dominicans in Aragon is documented since 1263 (in connection with the Barcelona disputation of that year), there is no doubt that it began much earlier, probably not later than the end of the forties, when Raymond de Penafort embarked on his plan to provide Arabic and Hebrew train¬ ing for prospective Dominican missionaries. Obviously, insofar as Hebrew was concerned, such training could be greatly assisted by the collaboration of Jewish converts. Cf.J. Cohen, op. cit., pp. 107-109; Balme and Taben, in Raymundiana, 1. 32. 52. Amplifying the decree of James I of Aragon of 1242 which secured for the convert the ownership of his property (see above, n. 46), the law of the Partidas assured him also full rights of

inheritance. The converts, says the law, “ayan sus bienes, e de todas sus cosas partiendo con sus hermanos, heredando de los sus padres e de sus madres, e de los otros sus parientes, bien assi como si fuessen judios” {Partidas, VII, tit. xxiv, ley vi). Jewish law is generally in accord with this ruling, but many Jewish authorities maintained that Jewish Courts could confiscate what the converts inherited from their Jewish fathers (see Rashba, Responsa, VII, 282; Maimonides, Hilkhot Nehalot, VI.2; and cf. my Marrams of Spain, 19732, p. 17, n. 45, p. 18, n. 49, and p. 20, n. 50). 53. For the conversions during the civil war of the 1360s see the testimony of Samuel Zarza, in Schevet Jehuda, ed. Wiener, p. 132. That the number of converts was large is indicated not only by that author, but also by a Christian source (see Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, 1863, II, 309). 54. Marrano as a designation for Jewish converts is known since 1220; as a term of abuse, meaning swine or pig, it is known since 1380. On this, and the original meaning of the word, see my Marrams of Spain, 19732, p. 59, n. 153. 55. See Cortes de Leony de Castilla, II, p. 309

(§2056. See above, p. 260. This seems to have been the case despite the repeated devaluation of the currency in Castile from 1255 to 1380. Cf. M. Colmeiro, Historia de la economia politica en Espana, 19652, I, pp. 504-505. 57. See Cortes de Leony de Castilla, II, p. 309 (§21)-

58. See F. Cantera Burgos, Alvar Garcia de Santa Maria y su familia de Conversos, 1952, p. 55, n. 52, where the whole document, taken from the Municipal Archives of Burgos, is reproduced, together with the related bibliography. For the date of the document (Oct. 14, 1392), see ibid., n. 27. 59. Ibid., ibid.

{pages 267-273)

NOTES

60. Amador, Historia, II, p. 378, n. 1. According to Amador, the community of Burgos was finally “annihilated,” but Camera, op. cit., p. 22, considering all available documents, rightly termed the statement “exaggerated.” Nevertheless, from the dirge pub¬ lished by Schirmann (Kobez al fad, III [13], Jerusalem, 1939, p. 67), it is evident that most of the community was convened. 61. Cantera, op. cit., p. 24; and see Baer, II, p. 237. According to this document, the movement to renew the attack upon the Jews was organized by “some vile people of low station” (algunos omes rafezes de pequeno estado). 62. Cantera, op. cit., p. 25; Baer, Die jfuden, II, p. 239. See the king’s letter to the Council of Burgos dated July 30, 1392, which points to some of the most recent converts as instigators of actions against the Jews: que algunos judios que agora se tomaron cbristianos lo prosiguen e les fasen muchos males. See Baer, ibid., II, p. 239. 63. See the letter dated October 14, 1392, part of which was cited above, note 58. 64. See Juan de Torquemada, Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, ed. N. Lopez Martinez y V. Proano Gil, 1957, P- J2765. Ibid., ibid. 66. Ibid., pp. 127-128. The gist of Enrique Ill’s law is also presented briefly by Alonso de Cartagena in his Defensorium Unitatis Christtanae, ed. Manuel Alonso, 1943, PP- 2°7_2°867. See the Instruction which Fernan Diaz de Toledo addressed to Don Lope de Barrientos in 1449 (appended to Cartagena’s Defensorium, p. 346). 68. See ibid., ibid. Also Enrique’s letters cited above state that they were issued “con leyenyia e avtoridat de los mis tutores e regidores de los mis regnos” (Cantera, op. cit., p. yy, n. y2). 69. See Cortes de Leony de Castilla, II, p. 310 (§2?)-

[1217

70. On conversos in the King’s municipal offices, see above, pp. 247—2yo. 71. See Garibay, Compendio Historial, II, lib. xv, cap. 48. And cf. Amador, Historia, II, pp. 493-494, n. 3. 72. See L. Serrano, Los Conversos D. Pablo de Santa Marla y D. Alfonso de Cartagena, 1942, pp. 33, 49, yi. 73. Juan de Torquemada, op. cit., p. 128. The editors of Torquemada’s Tractatus state that this privilege of Juan II was given in Valladolid in 1412, and cite in evidence the Codigos Espanoles, X (Madrid, i8yo), 1 (ibid.). The law referred to in the Codigos, however, is paragraph 3 of the pragmatica against the Jews which was issued by Queen Catalina on Jan. 10, 1412 of that year (see Amador, Historia, II, p. 620), and does not contain any part of the privilege under discussion. It is possible, of course, that the privilege was issued not in Catalina’s time, but shortly thereafter—that is, when Juan II (and Alvaro de Luna) assumed the reins of power. And see above, pp. 238-239. 74. See on him F. Ruiz de Vergara y Alava, Vida de Don Diego de Anaya Maldonado, arzobispo de Sevilla, fundador del Colegio Viejo de San Bartolome, 1661. 7y. See Joseph de Roxas y Contreras (Marques de Alventos), Historia del Colegio Viejo de San Bartolome, part 2, vol. Ill, 1770, p. 44; cf. A. Dominguez Ortiz, La Clase social de los conversos en Castilla en la Edad Moderna, i9yy, p. y7, note. 13. 76. See L. Sala Balust, Constituciones, estatutos y ceremonias de los antiguos colegios seculares de la Universidad de Salamanca, III, 1964, p. 9. 77. See Roxas y Contreras, op. cit., II (vol. 3), pp. 41—4y; and cf. Sala Balust, op. cit., III, pp. 73-77. 78. Ibid., p. 10. 79. See P. B. Gams, Series Episcoporum Ecclesiae Catholicae, I9y7, p. 73a.

I 2 I 8 ]

NOTES

80. The Statuta Rectoris et Collegialium

81. 82. 83.

84. 85. 86. 87. 88.

(which in Roxas’ edition, ibid., p. 41, are entitled: Statuta Reverendissimi Archiepiscopi juranda per Collegiales) open with the following statement: Didacus, miserationae divina et Apostolicae sedis gratia Archiepiscopus Hispalensis, circa nostrum Collegium sequentia statuta ordinamus (see Roxas, ibid., ibid.). See Sala Balust, op. cit., pp. 100-101. See above, p. 272. There is good reason to assume that this statute was adopted not later than the 1480s. A sentence issued by the Catholic Kings on October 18, 1491 permitted the Rector and Councillors of the College to expel from it a certain collegiate who was found to be of “infected blood” (see Rujula, Indice etc., p. xxx). It is most unlikely that the College authorities would have sought, or received, such a verdict, if their claim had not rested on a supportive ruling, which formed part of the College’s constitution. This leads to the conclusion that the limpieza statute of the College of Santa Cruz de Valladolid (1488), like that of the College of San Antonio in Siguenza (1497), was enacted under the influence of the example of San Bartolome, the oldest of Spain’s Colegios Mayores (see ibid., pp. xxx, xxxiv). See Ruiz de Vergara, Vida de D. Diego de Anaya, p. 52, n. 13. Ibid., ibid. See above, p. 272. Ibid. See Ruiz de Vergara, op. cit., pp. 37-41. R. Sicart, however, maintains that Anaya’s demotion occurred in 1422 (see his article on Anaya in Dictionaire d’histoire et de geographic ecclesiastiques, II, col. 1503), while J. Goni Gaztambide believes that it took place in 1421 (see his study “Recompensas de Martin V a sus electores Espanoles,” in Hispania Sacra, xi [1958], p. 18).

{pages 273-276)

89. See Sicart’s article on Anaya, loc. cit. 90. See below, appendix B. 91. J. Hardouin, Acta Conciliorum et Epistolae decretales, ac constitutiones summorum pontificum, VIII (1409-1442), Paris, 1714, §v, p. 1191. 92. Ibid., § vi, p. 1191. The decree refers to bona ex usure aut illicito quaesitu fuerint aquisita. Since Church jurisdiction against the taking of usury by Christians did not apply to Jews, it may at first glance appear strange that the church associated the taking of usury by Jews with “illicit profits,” and even ordered the gains the Jews made by usury to be returned to the Christian borrowers. Earlier church decrees on this subject, however, could offer at least a partial basis for this particular order. Thus, in 1215 the Fourth Lateran Council, in its 67th chapter, forbade Jews to take ex¬ cessive usury from Christians and ordered them to make “sufficient amends” for their “exorbitant ex¬ actions,” under pain of forfeiting all commerce with Christians (see S. Grayzel, The Church and the Jews in the 13th Century, 19662, pp. 306-307). The Council of Narbonne in 1227 echoed this decision by decreeing that “the Jews shall never receive any im¬ moderate usury from Christians,” and also: “should they continue to do so, the Church shall compel them to restore it by excommunicating the Christians who enter into any re¬ lations with them” {ibid., p. 317). Similarly, in 1246, the Council of Beziers adopted the same law (§ 37; ibid., p. 333). Since these decisions were rarely enforced, the Church could claim that the Jewish gains were made by excessive usury and therefore had to be returned. Moreover, Church legislation could provide examples of broader or less qualified rulings. Thus Innocent III, in his letter to the Province of Cologne in 1213, ordered

{pages 276-291)

93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98.

99.

100.

101.

102.

NOTES

that the Jews be “compelled by the secular power to restore to their Christian borrowers the usury taken” {ibid., p. 137). Ibid., ibid., p. 1192. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. See above, n. 77. See above, n. 52. Although Alfonso de Cartagena ar¬ rived in Basle on Aug. 26, less than three weeks before the enactment of the law (Sept. 15), and therefore, most likely, was not involved in the original work on its formulation, we may nevertheless assume that, shortly after his arrival, he was informed of the contemplated law and perhaps also shown a proposed draft, in which he may have made some changes. See also below, p. 526. Bearing in mind the deep penetration of the Marranos into the hierarchy of the Spanish Church, the advocates of the Inquisition may have sincerely believed that most Spanish bishops would be disinclined to declare any of the conversos guilty of judaization. See on this below, p. 740. The same fact may also have been offered as explanation for the paucity, or absence, of “proven” heresy cases among the conversos in Spain. The testimony of the petitioners on this point'is in full accord with the statements to this effect that we find in the Responsa of the Rabbis of the time concerning the “second generation.” See my Marranos of Spain, pp. 44—yo, and see below, p. 410. The identical figure is mentioned in Benedict XIII’s bull on the Jewish question, issued on May 20,1415, with reference to the Jews who were converted under the influence of the Tortosa Disputation. See Amador, Historia, II, p. 630. See V. Beltran de Heredia, “Las bulas

[1219

de Nicolas V acerca de los conversos de Castilla,” in Sefarad, XXI (1961), p.

37-_ 103. Ibid., p. 37: consilia et regimen universttatum. The term universitas was used in Aragon to designate “city.” 104. Ibid., pp. 37-39. 105. Ibid., p. 38. 106. Ibid., ibid. 107. The Cronica of Alvar Garcia is di■ vided into sections according to the calendar years. 108. CODOIN, 100, Madrid, 1891, ano 1434, cap. I, pp. 387-388. 109. Ibid., pp. 388—389. no. See on this below, pp. 290, 639. 111. Cronica de D. Juan II, in Cronicas de los Reyes de Castilla, ed. Cayetano Rosell, II, Madrid, 1953, BAE, 68, p. yiya (ano H34, cap. I). 112. See Refundicion de la Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, ed. J. de Mata Carriazo, 1956, p. 148. 113. Ibid., p. 149. 114. On the Genoese economic activ¬ ity in Seville, see M. Angel Ladero Quesada, La Ciudad Medieval (1248-1491), 1976, pp. 93-99. For additional bibliography, see R. Pike, Enterprise and Adventure, 1966, pp. 213—226. ny. We say, “the citizens of the towns” because the rebels could not rely on the great nobles of Seville or of Andalusia, none of whom, in fact, was involved in the conspiracy. 116. See Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, ed. Carriazo, 1946, p. 15-2; the identical version of the proclamation appears also in the Abreviacion del Halconero, MS. 434, Biblioteca de Santa Cruz, Universidad de Valladolid, f. 62a. 117. See above, p. 285. 118. This of course conflicts with Ladero Quesada’s assumption that the purpose of the conspiracy of 1434 was to raise Seville to the status of an “independent urban republic, ac¬ cording to the example of its Italian

1 2 20 ]

NOTES

contemporaries” {op. cit., p. 37). There were no such urban plans or aspirations in 15th century Castile, and Ladero’s conclusion must have been drawn solely from his reading of the Cronica de Juan II, and the Halconero’s version on which it relied, which conceal the real motives of the conspiracy. That the conspiracy was much broader and more ramified than it appears from its description in the Refundicion, we can gather also from the Halconero’s remark about the range of the punishments that followed it. After mentioning those who were executed, he says: “many others involved in the [conspiratorial] deals were imprisoned and exiled [from their places] (“Otrosy fueron presos otros muchos que en los tratos eran, e desterrados”; see Cronica del Halconero, p. 152). 119. In the modern histories of Castile or Seville which deal with the abortive revolt of D. Fadrique, such as those of J. Guichot, Historia de la Ciudad de Sevilla, III, Seville, 1898, p. 342—345-, this aspect of the conspiracy is completely ignored. Zuniga, on the other hand, mentions the plan “to rob the houses of the richer merchants of the city, among whom were many Genoese;” see Annales Eclesidsticos y seculares de... Sevilla, II, Madrid, 1795-, p. 1390, ano 1433. Of the post medieval historians Zurita is the only one who speaks of the conspirators’ double intention “to put to sack the merchants and kill the conversos" {Anales de Aragon, 2nd part, lib. XIV—tomo tercero, p. 222, Saragossa, 1669). Zurita, as is known, used the Abreviacion of the Halconero. 120. This is why he devoted so much space to disparaging descriptions of Don Fadrique, to his wastefulness and need of money, and so few words to his associates. He does not even

(pages 291-292)

mention the social positions and the parts played by Fadrique’s chief allies in the affairs of Seville. Cf. above, p. 285-. 121. See Amador, Historia, III, p. 121, n. 2. The same formulation is included in the description of this privilege in the catalog of the Archivo Historico Nacional, Madrid (Libro 83 de Matriculas del Archivo de la Casa de Osuna), and Amador may have taken the above quotation from this source. The original or a copy of the cedula, which was addressed to the town of Guadalajara, was once found in the Archivo de los Duques del Infantado, Legajo III, n. 2, but my colleague, Prof. Ciriaco M. Arroyo, who examined that legajo at my request, informed me that the document was not there. With the text of the cedula remaining unknown, I had of course to consider the possibility that the document in question was identi¬ cal with Juan II’s letter cited by Torquemada and Alonso de Cartagena (see above, p. 271 and notes 5-7 and 59). My conclusion that we are dealing here with two separate statements rests on the following two reasons: (a) The document reproduced by Juan de Torquemada (which declares the right of converts from Judaism “to have the same offices and honors as other Christians”) does not include the specific phrase preserved from the letter of 1444 (“as if they were born Christians”); (b) in discussing the attitudes of the kings of Castile toward converts to Christianity from Judaism, the Relator refers to the position of Juan II in the following words: “y aun assi lo tiene ordemado el Rey nuestro senor en sus Leyes" (“and thus has also ordered the King our Lord in his laws”; see Appendices to Cartagena’s Defensorium, p. 345-). It

(pages 292-296)

122. 123.

124.

125.

NOTES

seems that if the Relator had in mind one order only (and an order of the King was law), he would not have added to his statement the phrase “en sus leyes.” By speaking in that juncture of the king’s “laws” (in the plural), the Relator, it seems, wished to inform his readers that the King issued more than one law concerning the converso question. And cf. Lope de Barrientos’ statement on this subject which leads to the same conclusion (“E aun el Rey Nuestro Senor don Juan . . . lo tiene por sus ordenamientos e leyes”). See Luis G. A. Getino, Vida y obras de Fr. Lope de Barrientos, 1927, p. 186. Cronica de Juan II, pp. 623-624. See Amador, op. cit., Ill, p. 121, n. 2: las principales villas y ciudades de todo el reino. Barrientos was instrumental in organizing the alliance that made the King’s liberation possible, and his influence in the administration was then at its peak. The Bishop was a staunch friend of the conversos, and several years later, the Relator called him “father and protector of our nation” (i.e., the conversos), doubtless for great services rendered by Barrientos to the converso cause (see Cartagena, Defensorium, Appendix II, p. 343). The Relator may have had in mind the Bishop’s share in moving the government of Juan II to issue the aforesaid cedula. The scathing denunciation of the In¬ fantes’ rule included in the cedula of Prince Enrique, dated May 22, 1444 (see Memorias de Don Enrique IVde Cas¬ tilla, II, pp. 9b-ioa), must have reflec¬ ted an objective situation, as well as a widespread view. No doubt most cities then wished to get rid of the Infantes’ yoke, which they came to see as “for¬ eign,” and believed that this end was attainable, and perhaps unavoidable.

126. See on this below, p. 594.

[ I 2 2 I

The Outbreak of the Rebellion 1. This framework was provided by the terms of surrender he agreed on with the Moors before entering Toledo. See on this Rafael Altamira, Historia de Espana, I, 1900, pp. 350-351, and R. Menendez Pidal, La Espana del Cid, I, 19474, p. 306. No documents are extant to indicate the policy pursued by Alfonso toward the Jews of Toledo immediately after the reconquest of the city, but it seems they were treated as a privileged group, in accordance with the fuero Alfonso gave Najera (in 976) which equalized the penalty for the killing of a Jew with that of an infanzon or a monk (see Baer, Die Juden, II, p. 4, doc. 11). In the fuero given Miranda de Ebro in 1099, the Jews, like the Moors, appear equal to the Christians (ibid., II, p. 8, doc. 15). In the fuero granted the Mozarabs of Toledo (in 1101), the Christians are given a privileged po¬ sition, but not when it referred to the killing or wounding of a Jew or a Moor (see ibid., ibid., doc. 16). 2. A major breach of the king’s agreement with the Moors had already been made in the second month of the Christians’ renewed rule in Toledo (July, 1085) when the Cluniac monk Bernardo, Abbot of Sahagun, took over the chief mosque of the city and turned it into a church (see E. Levi-Provenfal, “Alphonse VI et la prise de Tolede [1085],” in Hesperis, XII [1931], pp. 48-49). This action infuriated the king, but Bernardo was elected Archbishop of Toledo that very year (against the king’s will) by an assembly of prelates and nobles (see A. Gonzalez Palencia, Los Mozdrabes de Toledo en los siglos XII y XIII, IV, 1930, p. 155). 3. The migration of the Moslems which started with the departure of most of their political leaders from the city during the siege and after the surrender was followed by the migration of the wealthy and the learned. The poor

1 2 2 2

]

NOTES

condition of the Moslem community from the middle of the 12th century onward is reflected in the documents published by Gonzalez {ibid., pp. iyi-153 ar|d the related sources). 4. That Toledo became, after the reconquest, a major center for the Jews of Castile is indicated by the fact that it counted among its residents men like Yehuda Halevi and Cidellus. On the important Jewish community in Toledo prior to the reconquest, see E. Ashtor, History of the Jews in Moslem Spain (Hebrew), II, 1966, pp. 139—142-

5. See above, pp. 256-257. 6. See Ayala, Cronica del Rey D. Pedro, ano sexto (1355), cap. 7 (BAE, t. 66, p. 462b); Menahem ben Zerah, Zeda La-derekh, Sabionetta, 1567, p. 16b; see also J. Valdeon Baruque, “La Juderla Toledana en la guerra civil de Pedro I y Enrique II,” in Simposio, Toledo Judaico,' I, 1972, pp. 107-131. 7. See the lament of Yehiel ben Asher, in Sinai, XIX (1951), p. 211 (claimed by S. Bernstein with good reason to refer to the Jewish community of Toledo); and the anonymous elegy, first published by A. Neubauer in Israel. Letterbode, VI (1880—1881), p. 33ff. (with notes by D. Kaufmann, Ibid., pp. 80-84; also in REJ> 38 [1899], p. 251 ff.), then by H. G. Enelow, in his edition of Menorat ha-Maor, 1930, pp. 445-450, and finally by C. Roth in JQR, 39 (1948), pp. 129-150. 8. Concerning Vicente Ferrer’s visit to Toledo in 1411, we know that his preaching there was climaxed by a violent action he took against the synagogue, which he transformed into a church (see above, p.187). There is no reason to assume that the fate of Toledo’s Jews differed materially from that of the other cities where the friar conducted his fierce agitation and which, following that agitation, were subject to the laws of 1412.

(pages 291-299)

9. See above, p. 258. 10. See Juan de Torquemada, Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, ed. N. Lopez Martinez and V. Proano Gil, 1957, P- I27; and see above, pp. 266-269. n. See above, p. 258. 12. For the pro-converso decree of King Enrique III which was directed especially against the Toledans, see above, pp. 268-269, notes 65, 66. 13. The numerical strength of the converso community in Toledo may be gathered, among other things, from its military capacity in 1467. See my Marrams of Spain, 19732, PP- 263-264. Some notion of its wealth may be formed from Sarmiento’s huge rob¬ beries in 1449; see below, p. 649. 14. Although a distinct anti-Jewish streak may be detected in the attitude of the Ayalas toward the Jews (see the “Rimado de Palacio” in Poesias del canciller Pero Lopez de Ayala, 1920, I, verses 244ff, ^ff.), nevertheless, like all other nobles, their foremost con¬ cern was to advance their own interests; and this dictated a policy of restraint first toward the Jews and later toward the conversos (at least, until 1449). In 1467, we see the Ayalas take a clearly anti-converso stand. See below, p. 782. 15. See below, p. 1228, n. 12. 16. See below, p. 302. 17. Cronica, ano 1420, cap. 28, p. 391a. 18. Halconero, cap. 262, pp. 319-320, 334; 358—362; Cronica, ano 1440, caps. 8—9; BAE, 68, p. 5633b; ano 1441, cap. 1, pp.

57°~57f 19. Abreviacion, caps. 153—154, ff 243-2443; Refundicion, pp. clxxxix-cxci; Cronica, ano 1444, caps. 16-17 (PP- 623ab-624a). 20. See Benito Ruano, op. cit., pp. 23-24, and doc. 6, pp. 174—175. 21. See Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 6, p. 628, where mention is made of all the participants in the battle of Olmedo; and cf Halconero, cap. 337, pp. 463-464. Ayala, however, was present in the

(pages 300-301)

22.

23.

24. 25.

NOTES

Cortes which assembled in the king’s camp outside Olmedo just a few days before the battle. See Cortes de Leony de Castilla, III, 1966, p. 458. Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 25-, pp. 638—639a. Complaints of his misconduct as Chief Judge, however, had already been lodged against him in 1411. See Emilio Saez, “Ordenamiento dado a Tole¬ do por el Infante don Fernando de Antequera . . . en 1411,” in Anuario de Historia del Derecho Espatiol, XV (1944), pp. 517, 519; cf. Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 28, n. 45. Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 25, pp. 63813—6393; Halconero, cap. 341, pp. 468—469. Ibid., cap. 24, p. 6383b. This we gather from the subsequent agreement between the King and Prince Enrique about the restoration of this office to Ayala (Cronica, ano 1446, cap. 5, p. 647a) and from all other related sources (see below, notes 26,

32)26. Halconero, cap. 342, p. 469; Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 24, p. 638b. 27. See Cronica, ano 1446, cap. y, p. 647a; concerning the office of chief judge it was agreed “quel Alcaldia Mayor ... quel dicho Pero Lopez tiene, non le sea perturbada, nin sea fecha ninguna inova^on de como siempre la touo” (Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. no. 8, p. '77)28. See on him and his ancestry, Benito Ruano, “Don Pero Sarmiento, Repostero Mayor de don Juan II de Castilla,” in Hispania, XVII (1957), pp. 484-490. 29. See, for instance, Cronica, pp. 628a, 630. See also Memorias de D. Enrique IV de Castilla, II, 183J—1913, p. 12a, where, in a cedula issued by Prince Enrique, Sarmiento is mentioned first among the captains of Juan II to whom the subjects of the kingdom should turn in case of a Navarrian invasion. 30. See King Juan II’s statement of

[ 12 2

3

September 10, 1444 (preserved in the Archivo de la Corona de Aragon, Reg. 2934, f. 114), which is cited by Benito Ruano, op. cit., 26, n. 39. 31. For his estates and income, see id., “Don Pero Sarmiento,” loc. cit., pp. 498-499; see also id., “El Origen del Condado de Salinas,” in Hidalguia, V (i957)_, PP- 4>74832. On his appointment as commander of ' the Alcazar, see Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 24, p. 638b, and Halconero, cap. 341, p. 468; on his appointment as chief judge of appeals, see above, n. 26, and below, n. 32. 33. Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. 8, p. 177. From both the agreement between the King and the Prince and the King’s letter to Sarmiento of June 28 it is obvious that, while the Alcaldia Mayor was promised by the King to Sarmiento, not only orally, but also in writing (non embargantes qualesquier mis cartas e poderes que en contrario desto de mi tengades; ibid., doc. n. 10, p. 180), the position was not yet actually transferred to Sarmiento’s hands. In both cases the king says that Ayala was still in possession of the post. In the letter the King says of the Alcaldia “quel dicho Pero Lopez por mi tiene en la dicha ciudad,” and in the agreement with the Prince it is likewise stated: “el Alcaldia ... quel dicho Pero Lopez [de Ayala] tiene" (Cronica, ano 1446, cap. 5, p. 647a). It seems, however, that Sarmiento already took, with the king’s consent, certain steps toward the transfer of that office to his possession. The king’s letter to him of May 15 says: “si algunas inovaciones son fechas contra ello, que sean tornadas al primero estado . . . non embargante qualesquier mis cartas e poderes que ... yo aya dado fasta aqui” (Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. 8, p. 177). The same is indicated in the king’s agreement with the Prince (Cronica, ano 1446, cap. 5; BAE, 68, p. 647a).

I224 ]

NOTES

34. See pertinent documents in Benito Ruano, op. cit., pp. 176-179 (doc. 9). 35. Ibid., doc. 10, pp. 180—181. In this new order, punishment for violation in¬ creased from 10,000 maravedis {ibid., p. 177) to loss of offices and confiscation of property for the King’s Chamber {ibid., p. 180). 36. From a royal document dated Feb¬ ruary 23, 1447 it appears that the matter was not settled even then, i.e., nine months after the order was given. See ibid., p. 29, n. 51. 37. See concerning these positions Emilio Saez, “El Libro del juramento del Ayuntamiento de Toledo,” AHDE, XVI (1945), pp. 530—624; and cf. Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 30, n. 54. 38. That the gates were taken over by Alvaro is evident from subsequent events; see below, p. 312. 39. Halconero, cap. 355, p. 519; Abreviacion, cap. 171, f. 283. 40. See above, p. 301 and notes 35 and 36. 41. The story of Ayala’s dismissal, as presented by the Halconero, cap. 341, p. 468, gives an idea of the king’s method of combining cunning and surprise in the performance of such acts. According to this story, the King, before coming to Toledo, asked Ayala to prepare the Alcazar for his lodging. Upon his arrival, the king walked through the Alcazar as if to inspect the suitability of the place for his needs, and then told Ayala that he should transfer himself to his home since his stay in the Alcazar would make the place too crowded for the king’s offices and retinue. Pero Lopez tried to counter-argue, but the King persisted in his demand, and in the end Ayala complied. Then the King delivered the fortress to Pero Sarmiento, and informed Ayala that he removed him from his post as governor. See also the same in the Cronica, ano 1445, cap. 24, p. 6383b. 42. Cronica, ano 1448, cap. 2, pp.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

55.

56.

57.

(pages 301-309) 656b—6573b; Halconero, cap. 364, pp. 499-500. Cronica, cap. 4, 658a; Halconero, cap. 368, p. 505. See below, p. 312. Cronica, ano 1446, cap. 7, pp. 6yob-6yia; Halconero, cap. 348, p. 475. Ibid., cap. 349, p. 477; Cronica, ano 1446, cap. 8, p. 651a; ano 1447, cap. 4, 654b. Halconero, cap. 361, pp. 494-495. Cronica, ano 1447, cap. 2, p. 654a; Halconero, cap. 354, pp. 487-488. Ibid., ibid., p. 487; Cronica, ano 1447, cap. 2, p. 654a. Ibid., ano 1448, cap. 2, 657b; Halconero, cap. 364, pp. 500-501. Ibid., cap. 370, pp. 508-509; Cronica, ano 1448, cap. 4, p. 660b. Ibid., ibid., p. 658b; Halconero, cap. 369, pp. 507-508. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 1, p. 66iab; Halconero, cap. 371, pp. 510-511. See “El Memorial contra los conversos del bachiller Marcos Garda de Mora,” published by E. Benito Ruano, in Sefarad, XVII (1957), p. 346. See “Instruccion del Relator para el obispo de Cuenca,” first published by Fermin Caballero in his Doctor Montalvo, 1873, pp. 243-254, and again by Manuel Alonso as appendix to his edition of Alonso de Cartagena, Defensorium Unitatis Christianae, 1943, pp. 343-356. I am citing according to the later edition. See ibid., p. 354, where the Relator describes Garcia as a man of “villano linaje de la aldea de Ma9arambros . . . e mejor fuera de tornarse a arar, como los fizo su padre e sus abuelos e lo fazen oy dia sus hermanos e parientes.” See “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 344: “hombre prevaricador e infamado de mala vida y acusado de muchos crimenes e delitos.” Halconero, cap. 372, p. 511; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 2, p. 661b. According to Higuera, however, the course of development was more complicated.

{pages 309—310)

NOTES

Faced with the necessity of meeting the danger of an Aragonese invasion, Alvaro first “sent a request” to the Toledans, among whom he had “many friends and allies,” to give the King a grant of a million maravedis. The request was refused by the Council on the grounds that its fulfillment would change Toledo’s status from a free to a tributary city. Alvaro repeated his request a second and third time, and only when all these appeals bore no fruit did he come to Toledo and suggest that the Toledans lend him the money, rather than contribute it. Alonso Cota, the treasurer of the city, gave or promised Alvaro the loan, and even began to collect it from the citizens; but he evidently did this without securing the city council’s consent. Resistance continued; there was disagreement with Alonso Cota; and the citizens sent a delegation to Alvaro, who was then in Ocaiia, requesting him to abandon his proposition, but he insisted on the fulfillment of his demand. See Higuera’s Historia eclesidstica, lib. 28, cap. 5, Ms. 1290, Bibl. Nacional, Madrid, f. 222r. 58. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 2, p. 661b; Halconero, cap. 372, p. yn; Abreviacion, cap. 17, f 283a. 59. On Alonso Cota see E. Cotarelo, “Algunas noticias nuevas acerca de Rodrigo de Cota”, in Boletin de la Real Academia Espafiola, XIII (1926), pp. n-17; and recently F. Cantera Burgos, La Familia Judeoconversa de los Cota de Toledo, 1969, pp. 11—18. 60. Rather than supporting the ad¬ ministration’s request, which he was expected to do as its official, he gave clear notice of his negative reaction to Alvaro’s appeal. This may have been his first public indication of his desire to provoke a conflict between the city and the king and ally himself with the citizens (see Higuera, op. cit., f. 222 ).

[I22J

61. Higuera, op. cit., lib. 28, cap. y, f. 222v, says that the comun suspected Cota to have been the originator of the idea of the loan and that he influenced Alvaro to accept it. See Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 2, pp. 66ib-662a; Halconero, cap. 372, pp. 5II-512' 62. Cronica, p. 662a; Abreviacion, cap. 171, f. 283. 63. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 2, p. 662a; Halconero, cap. 372, p. 512. 64. According to the Halconero (cap. 372, pp. 511-512) and the Abreviacion (cap. 169, f.278a), the rebellion broke out on Sunday, January 26. This date was accepted by many authors, including Mariana {Historia de Espana, lib. 22, cap. 8, BAE, vol. 31, p. 130a) and Garibay {Compendia Historial, vol. II, 1628, lib. xvi, cap. 40, p. 485a). But the Cronica, whose editors noted the data indicated by the Halconero (they even included it in the beginning of their account), changed it to Monday, January 27 (ano 1449, cap. 2, p. 662a: el lunes, que fueron veinte y siete de Enero). Also Higuera, whose account of the events preceding the rebellion is much more detailed, fixes the outbreak of the rebellion on Lunes, 27 del mismo mes (ibid.). And so does the Cronicon de Valladolid (see CODOIN, XIII [1848], p. 19). This is no doubt the correct date. According to both the Halconero and the Cronica, Alvaro visited Toledo on Saturday, January 25. According to Higuera, the city sent its delegation to Ocana on Sunday, January 26; it was only after it had returned to Toledo that the Council decided to yield to Alvaro’s demand, and when the outbreak took place the collection was almost completed (see Abreviacion, cap. 171, f. 283). It is hard to assume that all these occurrences (Alvaro’s visit, the meeting of the Council, the delegation to Ocana, its return to Toledo, the Council’s second meeting, and the implementation of most of the

12 26 ]

65.

66.

67.

68. 69.

NOTES

collection plan) took place within only 24 hours. Nor can we agree with Benito Ruano who assumes that, while the rebellion broke out on Monday (Jan. 27), the scandal with the ordero took place on Sunday {op. cit., p. 35). Is it possible that on that very day Cota’s agents completed the collection among the rich and also began the collection among the poor? The sources indicate no separation between the scandal caused by the ordero and the calling of the mass-meeting. In fact, it is likely that the whole conduct of the ordero, serving as an excuse for the agitation and the meeting, was planned by the rebels’ chiefs. See, for instance, the Abreviacion (cap. 171, p. 283) which clearly attributes the outbreak to the inability of the lower classes to pay the sums allotted to them, and the Cuarta Cronica General, CODOIN 106, p. 138, which seems to take a similar view. On the particular reasons offered for the rebellion by these cronicas, see below, pp. 638, 6y2. See below, p. 347. According to Mariana, Historia de Espana, lib. 22, cap. 8 (BAE, 31, p. 130a), the two canons were the first to stir the populace to take rebellious actions. Zurita, Anales de Aragon, lib. xv, cap. y6, Saragossa, 1669, p. 3i72b. This was also the view of the Cuarta Cronica General which said explicitly that “Pero Sarmiento was the inciter of these actions which were thus done for the reason of loan”—namely, the attack upon the houses of Cota, etc. {loc. cit., p. 139). Zurita, op. cit., p. 371b. Mariana, op. cit., BAE, 31, p. 130a, says that the rioters, following their attack upon the houses of Cota, sacked and burned the suburb of Magdalena, the dwelling place of many of the city’s rich merchants (i.e., conversos), and, “unsatisfied with this, they threw into prison those whom they found there,

{pages 310-312) miserable people, without having respect for women, old men and children.” We have no confirmation of this by any other source, and it is most unlikely that such major occurrences would have left no trace in any contemporary record, or any chronicle of the following generation. Mariana seems to have erred in this as he did in other data concerning the rebellion; and Martin Gamero followed Mariana (without referring to him as his source). According to the former (o/». cit., p. 766), what was done to Cota’s houses was done also to the houses of “many other citizens” (vecinos), especially of the “rich converso merchants who lived in the suburb of Magdalena.” Higuera {op. cit., lib. 28, cap. 5, ms. 1290, f 222v), for his part, offers at this point quite a different story. He tells us that following the attack on Cota’s houses, the regidor Arias de Silva tried to pacify the populace, but the rioters killed some of his men, including Juan de la Cibdad. This account, however, conflicts with what we gather about the involvement of de Silva and the death of Juan de la Cibdad from Garcia’s “Memorial,” whose account of these events appears more coherent and far more reliable (see below, p. 498).

Amador {Historia, III, pp. 118-119) here followed Mariana, Higuera and Martin Gamero (without referring to any of them), and L. Delgado Merchan {Historia documentada de Ciudad Real, 1907, p. 159) just followed Amador. 70. See “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 329: lo hifieron (namely, the seizure of the gates) con authoridad 0 lifenfia del dicho sehor Pero Sarmiento, el cual tenia poder e authoridad plenaria del dicho senor Rey para mandar e hatter semejantas cosas e mayores." The Cuarta Cronica General, too, states that it was Sarmiento who seized the gates {loc. cit., p. 139) although it erroneously claims that

{pages 312-317)

NOTES

this action was taken not during, but after the outbreak (see on this below, p.

653)71. See Abreviacion, cap. 171, f. 282a: “Luego el comun con el favor que les dto Pero Sarmiento apoderaronse en las puertas e puentes e torres.” While this evidence attests Sarmiento’s involvement in the first stages of the rebellion, it also throws light on another testimony which bears directly on this subject. In a statement made by King Juan II on April 18, 1450 with reference to the origins and beginnings of the rebellion, he said: “Having forgotten the fear of God ... and the loyalty that he [Sarmiento] owed me ... as his King and natural lord, he rose and rebelled (se also, e rebelo, e levanto) together with some of my disloyal individuals (singulares) of the common people (pueblo comun) of that city (i.e., Toledo)—his partisans, and accom¬ plices, and satellites, and partici¬ pants, and abettors, and adherents, conspiring with them, and making with them a conspiracy and sworn allegiances (juramentos), and deals and homages, and fraternities (confradias), against me and the royal crown of my Kingdoms, in order to rebel against me and disobey me, and take over the [ control of the] said city, and rise with her against me, as he [actually] did with her and my alcazar” (see the King’s introduction to the “process” issued by Fernando de Luxan, Bishop of Sigiienza, with reference to Nicholas V’s bull Si ad reprimandas of September 24, 1449 (Coleccion Diplomdtica, p. 273b). Nowhere does the king’s statement suggest that the first author of the rebellion was the comun and that Sarmiento joined them after they had rebelled and achieved their first objective. Instead it clearly says that he, Sarmiento, rose against the king together with some individuals of the

[ 12 2

7

common people (say, men like Garcia and some of his friends), and that he conspired with them to rebel against the king. Thus, not only was Sarmiento with these men from the start; he was also their leader; for they were defined as his partisans, his accomplices, his satellites, his adherents, etc., with whom he made a conspiracy against the king. There was no need for a conspiracy in order to rebel (as the statement put it) after the rebellion had broken out, and similarly there was no need for confradias and juramentos (secret oaths), which are an inevitable part of any conspiracy. 72. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1449, cap. 2, p. 662a. 73. Ibid., ibid., cap. y, p. 664a. 74. Ibid. 7y. Higuera, Historia eclesidstica, BNM, ms. 1290, vol. VI, f. 232.

Toledo Under the Rebels 1. Palencia, Cronica de Enrique IV, transl. by A. Paz y Melia, 1,1904, p. 16; Pulgar, Letras, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, 1949, p. 89. 2. Ibid., ibid. 3. See his “Memorial,” in Sefarad, 17 (i9y7), p. 32y. 4. Halconero, cap. 37y, p. yi9y. For the use of torture, see Abreviacion del Halconero, ms. 434, Bibl. de Santa Cruz, University of Valladolid, f. 283a, and Roman de la Higuera, Historia Eclesidstica de la imperial ciudad de Toledo, lib. 28, cap. 8, ms. 1290, Bibl. Nacional, Madrid, f. 233^ fue tan grande la fuerya de la violenyia y de los tormentos que les dieron, que confesaron los cuytados lo que ni por pensamiento ni por obra jamas passaron.” Both these sources say that the arrested and tortured were “homes honrados y ricos” (Abreviacion) or “hombres ricos y caudalosos mercaderes” (Higuera), titles which were

1228 ]

NOTES

often used in the historiography of the period as synonyms for conversos. 6. Higuera, op. cit., ms. 1290, f. 233’. 7. Thus, Arias de Silva, who headed a company defending the conversos, was a member of the influential Silva family which, unlike the Ayalas, distinguished itself in its faithfulness to the King. He was no doubt the same Arias de Sylba, described by the Halconero as “cavallero, hombre fijodalgo,” before whom Ayala made his sworn commitments tojuan II (cap. 285, p. 35-9; see also cap. 268, p. 340), and whom Higuera (op. cit., lib. 28, cap. y; ms. 1290, f. 222v) called “Regidor y Cauallero principal de esta ciudad” and “cauallero leal y del servicio del Rey” {ibid., f. 22yv). His high position in Toledo’s leadership is also indicated by Higuera’s listing him as second in order among Toledo’s regidores (see ibid., lib. 28, cap. 6; ms. 1290, f. 22 6V). 8. See Marcos Garcia, “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 330; Cronicon de Valladolid, loc. cit., p. 19; Cronica de D. Alvaro de Luna, p. 241; Higuera, op. cit., lib. 28, cap. 5, f. 222v; and see below, p. 945. 9. See on this below, n. 12. 10. For this inquiry (pesquisa) see the “Sentencia-Estatuto,” in Martin Gamero, Historia de Toledo, 1862, pp. 1037-1038. 11. See the entire list of these practices in Espina, Fortalitium Fidei, ed. Lyon, 1511, ff. 7JV—77' (lib. II, consideratio vi, heresis 1). 12. Pero Lopez de Galvez was one of the four Toledan delegates who submitted Sarmiento’s Petition to the King (see Abreviacion, cap. 171, f. 270a), and he must have been close to Marcos Garcia, judging by their common line of action in the last phase of the rebellion (see below, p. 347). Pero Sarmiento described him in the Peti¬ tion as “nuestro promotor” {Abreviacion, f. 270a), and he no doubt exercised, under Sarmiento, his authority as chief

(pages 317-320)

ecclesiastical judge. In this capacity he dismissed Fernando de Cerezuela, the Archdeacon of the Cathedral Church, from his position and deprived him of his benefits (see on this below, p. 1231, n. 30), and issued death sentences against “Judaic heretics.” Cardinal Juan de Torquemada, who denounced these sentences, declared that Galvez not only lacked the right to sit in judgment in such cases, but was explicitly prohibited from doing so (see his Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, ed. N. Lopez Martinez and V. Proano Gil, 1957, pp. 49-yo), no doubt by the Archbishop, Alonso Carrillo. This prohibition, however, must have been addressed to Galvez from outside the city. For Carrillo was absent from Toledo not only during the outbreak of the rebellion, but throughout the period of the rebels’ (and probably also of the Prince’s) rule. We have a precise record of his whereabouts from November 1448 to June 1449. He was constantly in Juan II’s court, and followed the King also when the latter went with his army on his way to Benavente (Jan. 1449) in pursuit of Count Alfonso Pimentel who had escaped from his im¬ prisonment (see Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna, cap. 75, p. 222; and see ibid., pp. 219, 216). He must have been with the army that fought in Benavente and later beleaguered Toledo. It was only in the beginning ofjune 1449, when the King left Illescas (Carrillo’s town) in the course of his retreat from Toledo, that Carrillo parted company with the King (see ibid., p. 24j). 13. For the burning of “heretical” con¬ versos, see Marcos Garcia, “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 331; Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1; BAE, 68, p. 670b; Cuarta Cronica General, in CODOIN, 106, 1893, ed. Marques de la Fuensanta del Valle, p. 139 (here the burnings are referred to conversos e conversas).

(pages 320-330)

NOTES

14. Halcottero, cap. 375, pp. 519-520; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 5, p. 663b. 15. See below, n. 18. 16. Halconero, cap. 375, p. 520; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 5, p. 664a. 17. Ibid., ibid.; Halconero, cap. 375, p. 520. 18. The Petition was submitted on behalf of the city by four individuals who, like the bearers of the former message, were all members of the city’s upper classes. See Abreviacion, p. 290a; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 5, p. 664b. 19. Halconero, cap. 376, p. 525-526. 20. Ibid., p. 526; Refundicion, p. cxciv; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 5, p. 665a. 21. Ibid., ibid., cap. 6. 22. See Zurita, Anales de Aragon, vol. Ill, 1699, pp. 3i7rb—3i7ra23. Halconero, cap. 369, p. 507; Cronica, ano 1448, cap. 2, p. 657b. 24. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 6, p. 665a; Refundicion, p. cxciv. 25. Ibid., pp. cxciv-cxcv; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 6, p. 665b. 26. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 9, p. 667b; Halconero, cap. 379, p. 531. According to both these sources, the Prince granted Sarmiento the right to hold the two positions perpetuamente. 27. Halconero, ibid.; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 9, p. 667b. 28. Halconero, cap. 379, p. 531. 29. See on all this in detail, below, p. 381.

The Rebels Under the Prince 1. Halconero, p. 532. 2. This concurs with the view of Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 50, who, however, offers no reasons to support it. For our own reasons, see above, pp. 322-327. 3. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 6, p. 665a; Halconero, cap. 379, p. 532; Abreviacion, cap. 173, f. 294a (this source repeatedly mentions the Caballeros in the Prince’s entourage). 4. Halconero, cap. 379, p. 532> Abreviacion, cap. 173, f. 295 (the same in Refundicion, p. cxcvi).

[ I229

5. Halconero, cap. 379, p. 532; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 9, p. 667b. 6. See above, pp. 315-326. That the Prince intended right from the start not to tolerate violence against the conversos in Toledo may be gathered from the following incident which is related by the Halconero. Several of those expelled from the city (undoubtedly conversos), returned to it with the Prince’s men. They were, however, recognized and ' maltreated by the populace. Don Enrique, says the Halconero, could “not consent that such things be done in his city,” and he explains the Prince’s failure to intervene on that occasion by sheer practical necessity. The Prince realized that he had first to get hold of the city before he could take action against such abuses (see Abreviacion, cap. 173, f. 294-295; printed in the Refundicion, p. cxcv). The same nar¬ rative also makes it apparent that those responsible for the maltreatment of the returners were all low-class people (esto non lo facian salvo homes de poca manera, Ibid.,) and hence, that the administration was not involved in any way, even though the agreement between the Prince and Sarmiento stipulated that those expelled should not return. 7. In describing the persecution of the conversos in Castile in the wake of the Toledan rebellion, Alonso de Oropesa says that they were “robbed, wounded, flogged, and even carried to violent death, as is evident from their blood which, less than a year ago, was shed in various cities, towns and places in this kingdom" (see his Lumen ad revelationem gentium, cap. 2, ms. Ambrosiana, f. 2yr; cf. Spanish translation by L. Diaz y Diaz: Luz para conocimiento de los Gentiles, 1979, p. 90). Likewise, the Relator Fernan Diaz de Toledo says that the organizer of the persecution in Toledo “incited several cities to do the same, and in some of them carried out his

12 3 ° ]

NOTES

design” (see the “Instruccion del Rela¬ tor,” appendix 3 to Alonso de Carta¬ gena’s Defensorium Unitatis Cbristianae, 1943, P- 343)- Similarly, Bishop Lope de Barrientos says that the “new Haman” of Toledo “persigue cristianos [i.e., conversos] no solamente en su tierra, mas en las sierras agenas" (see L.G.A. Getino, Vida y Obras de Fray Lope de Barrientos, 1927, p. 182). The scope of the anti-converso persecutions is also indicated by Pope Nicholas V in his Bull of Sept. 24, 1449 (see on this below, p. 339). 8. See L. Delgado Merchan, Historia documentada de Ciudad Real, 19072, pp. 161-162. 9. Despite the attempt made by the City Council, in its report to the King of September 5, 1449, to place the main responsibility for the riots on the conversos, it is clear that no small part of the blame rested on Fray Gonzalo Manuento, Commander of the neighboring town of Almagro (then controlled by the Order of Calatrava), who had apparently acted in collusion with the Toledans in inciting the Old Christians of Ciudad Real against the New. See ibid., pp. 399—404. 10. Perhaps symptomatic of this line of thought was the reconciliation reached between the conversos and the other groups involved in the riots in Ciudad Real (i.e., the Old Christians and the Calatravans), all of whom petitioned the King to pardon the city for the offenses committed during the dis¬ orders. See ibid., pp. 162, 404. 11. Cartagena, op. cit., p. 61. 12. According to Mariana, Historia General de Espana, lib. 22, cap. viii (BAE, vol. 31, p. 131), this notable was the “dean of Toledo” who later became Bishop of Coria. Following the publication of the Sentencia, says Mariana, he retired to the village of Santa Olalla (near Toledo), where he wrote a seven-point refutation of the Statute and offered to

(pages 330-331)

defend it in a public disputation. Jose Sabau y Blanco, editor of Mariana’s Historia (vol. xii, 1819, p. 48, n. 1), identified that dean as Don Francisco de Toledo, and Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 52, accepted this identification (see his study “La Sentencia-Estatuto de Pero Sarmiento,” in Revista de la Universidad de Madrid, VI [1952], pp. 285-286). This identification, however, is wrong. According to Benito Ruano, Gil Gonzalez Davila says (in his Teatro eclesiastico de las Iglesias Metropolitanas y Catedrales de los Reims de las dos Castillas, II, pp. 450-451) that Don Francisco became Dean of the Toledan Cathedral in 1447; but Gonzalez Davila says no such thing. Like Fernando de Pulgar, whom he closely follows, he avers that the Deanship of Toledo was conferred on Don Francisco by Pius II, who became Pope in 1458 (see ibid.; and cf. Pulgar, Claros Varones de Castilla, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, 1954, p. 131). Mariana, we must conclude, was misinformed about the identity of the converso notable in question just as he was misinformed about the contents of his work. Thus he says: “sobre el mismo caso enderezo una disputa ... a don Lope de Barrientos, obispo de Cuenca, en que senala por sus nombres muchas familias nobilisimas con parientes del mismo y otros de semejante ralea emparentadas” (Historia, ibid.). But all this clearly relates to the Instruccion of the Relator (see below, p. 416), and not to Don Francisco! We cannot therefore dismiss as groundless Roman de la Higuera’s detailed assertions that the converso who wrote in “Santo Lalla” (sic!) an anti-Statute paper (“un apologetico contra Pedro Sarmiento”) and then went to Rome was Garcia Alvarez de Toledo who had been Abbot of Santa Maria de Atocha (Madrid) and later, in the days of Enrique IV, Bishop of Astorga (see

(pages 331-336)

NOTES

Higuera, op. cit., lib. 28, cap. 7; ms. 1290, ff. 23iv-232r). In another place {ibid., cap. 8, f. 235v) Higuera says explicitly that “don Garci Alvarez de Toledo por medio del Cardinal Juan de Torquemada alcanzo una bula del papa Nicolas V en que repruaba la division y distincion de pueblos.” The reference is to the bull Humani generis (see below, p. 336^). 13. Higuera, ibid., ibid: and see below, p. 430. 14. According to the Cuarta Cronica General, in CODOIN, 106, pp. 139-140, the King, following his retreat from Toledo, embio notificar toda lo susodicbo [about the rebellion] al Santo Padre Eugenio. It stands to reason that by “embio notificar” the chronicler meant to indicate that the King (or Alvaro) sent to Rome one or two emissaries, not only to inform the Pope of the rebellion, but also to negotiate the issuance of a bull against the Toledan rebels. 15. See Higuera, op. cit., cap. 7, ms. 1290, f. 232^ The licenciado Rui Garcia de Villalpando, who prior to the rebellion was Alvaro’s Deputy Chief Judge of Appeals in Toledo (see ibid., cap. 6, f. 22/), went over to the rebels’ side and placed himself at Sarmiento’s ser¬ vice. He had been a member of the King’s Council and a jurist of high standing (Higuera calls him “gran letrado,” ibid.). Both his record and legal training seemed to make him highly suitable to represent the city to the Pope. 16. See Garcia, “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 341; Higuera, op. cit., lib. 22, cap. 7, ms. 1290, f. 232r. 17. See below, p. 340. 18. Cronica, ano 1440, cap. 7, pp. 66yh-666e; Halconero, cap. 377, pp. S21~S2^19. Halconero, cap. 377, p. 528; Cronica, cap. 7, p. 666a. 20. Halconero, p. 528; Cronica, p. 666a. 21. Ibid., ibid.

[1231

22. Ibid., ano 1449, cap. 7, p. 666ab; Halconero, cap. 377, p. 528. 23. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 7, p. 666a; Halconero, cap. 377, p. 529. 24. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 11, p. 669a; Halconero, cap. 382, pp. 535-536. 25. Halconero, cap. 380, p. 533. 26. Ibid., ibid. 27. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 16, p. 665b. 28. In his bull against the rebels of September 24, the Pope says that he heard about the outbreaks in Toledo nuper (recently) from the King’s let¬ ters (regis illustris litteris) and the clamorous report of many others (multorum aliorum clamosa insumatione). The word nuper could not be con¬ strued to mean “the other day” (este otro dia), as the official Spanish translation of the bull has it (see Coleccion Diplomdtica, p. 29a), no doubt with intent to show the immediate attention paid by the Pope to the King’s appeal. The word nuper may of course easily mean two or three months, and the indication that the Pope heard about the events in Toledo from the bitter complaints of many people (also “recently”) shows that the matter had been referred to the Pope not just before he issued his bull, but a considerable time earlier. It need hardly be added that bulls such as Si ad reprimandas and Humani generis (both dated September 24) called for lengthy deliberation and careful draft¬ ing; they could not be prepared within a day or two. And see above, n. 13. 29. Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 11, p. 669a; Halconero, cap. 383, p. 536. 30. More specifically, the bull is directed against Pero Galvez, Vicar of the Toledan Cathedral Church, who deprived the Archdeacon of Toledo Fernando de Cerezuela of his office and benefices because of the latter’s failure to keep the oath of allegiance he had given, out of fear, to Pero Sarmiento. See Benito Ruano, op. cit.,

12

31.

32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

32

]

NOTES

doc. 2o, pp. 203—205; and see concerning this further below, n. 45. For the Latin text of the bull, see Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. 19, pp. 201-203; f°r the Spanish translation (which may have been the one prepared by the Relator or under his supervision, see below, p. 393), see Collection Diplomdtica, pp. 29a—31b. Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. 19, p. 202. Ibid., p. 201: dominum et iura interventere conatus est. Ibid., pp. 201-202. Ibid., p. 202. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid.

40. The bull was published (with some abbreviations) by Manuel Alonso as an appendix to Cartagena’s Defensorium Unitatis Christianae, 1943, PP367-370; in Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. 12, pp. 198-201; in Higuera’s Historia, lib. 28, cap. 9, ms. 1290, ff 236v-238r, and in Alonso de Oropesa, Lumen ad Revelationem Gentium, ms. Ambrosiana, ff. 302-307". Oropesa’s version, which differs in some details from the others, is found also in Spanish translation (see Luz para conocimiento de los gentiles, pp. 536-542; and cf. above, n. 7). 41. Benito Ruano, op. tit., doc. 18, pp. 198—199. 42. Ibid., p. 199. 43. Ibid., ibid. 44. See above, note 36. 45. For this reason, we believe, the Pope avoided censuring Pero Lopez de Galvez for the death sentences he had issued against alleged Marrano heretics, although the Pope knew that Lopez had no right to serve as judge in those cases (see above, n. 30). And this is why, in canceling his verdict against the Archdeacon of Toledo (see above, n. 30), he only alluded to his false claim as judge, but did not expose it explicitly.

(pages 336-342)

46. Benito Ruano, op. cit., doc. no. 18, p. 199. 47. Ibid., pp. 199-200. 48. The statement, incidentally, does not indicate that such relapses had actually been noted. 49. See on this decree, above, p. 45. 50. Halconero, cap. 382, p. 536; Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 11, p. 669a. 51. Ibid., ibid., p. 669b; Halconero, cap. 382, p. 536. 52. See Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1, p. 670a. This visit lasted until November 28, when the Prince left Toledo to go hunting near Requena (see ibid., ano 1449, cap. 9, p. 667b, and the Abreviacion, cap. 173, f. 295"). The relevant passage in the ms. of the Abreviacion (as cited by Carriazo in his introduction to the Refundicion, p. cxcvi) reads here: “salio el Principe para la dehesa de Requena,” omitting in error the words “de Toledo” which appear in the manuscript. 53. This despite the fact that at the opening of the talks the King presumed that an agreement was at hand. See his letter dated October 9 to the Count of Arcos, in Coleccion Diplomdtica, p. 24 (doc. no. 13). 54. This is indicated by the presence of the mariscal Payo de Ribera in the Prince’s entourage and the arrival, a few days later, of Juan de Silva, the Prince’s alferez (Halconero, cap. 383, p. 538; Cronica, p. 670a). 55. Thus Higuera says (op. cit. v. VI, cap. 12, ms. 1290, f. 243a) that Barrientos joined the Prince because he was very dissatisfied with the King “for not having given him the archbishopric of Toledo which he, the King, had promised him.” Barrientos, however, must have been aware that the appointment of Alfonso Carrillo for that position was made at the insistence of Alvaro de Luna, and against the King’s will (see Halconero, caP- 343. P- 47°)56. On Don Lope’s absolute faithfulness

(pages 343—349)

NOTES

to the Crown at that very time, see Halconero, cap. 385, p. 541. 5-7. All these arguments are implied in the complaint addressed to the Prince by Marcos Garcia in his “Memorial.” Cf. below, n. 61. 58. Ibid., p. 343: ... no aparten vuestras voluntades temores vanos ... ni apetito banaglorioso de senorear ni sobrar unos a otros. Most probably, in trying to get the support of some of the leading citizens of Toledo, the Prince assured them positions in the new admin¬ istration which would be established in the city with the change of the regime. 59. The reference is of course to Fray Lope de Barrientos. 60. Either Barrientos or Cartagena, who was among the chief leaders of the struggle against the anti-Marrano movement. On him, see below, p. 517IF. 61. See “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 342—343. The reference is to the anti-royal threats which Garcia directed against Juan II (see ibid., p. 342) and the anti-royal steps which he actually took. 62. We may gather this from the findings of the investigation which the Prince conducted against the rebels shortly thereafter. See below, p. 346. 63. See Cuarta Cronica General, loc. cit., p. 140: Fernando de Avila, un malo cismatico ... el cual tenia las torres de la puerta de Alcantara por este malo eretico de Pero Sarmiento. 64. The story of the conspiracy is related briefly in the Abreviacion, cap. 172, ff". 295a—296. A much more detailed account, taken probably from the unabridged Halconero, is found in the Cronica, ano 1449, cap. 9, 667b-668a. According to the Cronica, the plot was first revealed to a certain friar through a confession he took from a dying man. Since the friar was informed of the identity of the people whom the conspirators intended to kill, he felt he

[ 12 3 3

could not keep such knowledge secret, and decided to “impart it immediately to the caballeros of the Prince who were on guard in the city” {ibid., p. 668a). From this, one is led to conclude that the conspirators planned to capture the gates held by Prince Enrique’s men. 65. See ibid., ibid. According to the Cuarta Cronica General, it was the King who revealed to the Prince the plan of the conspiracy (see CODOIN, 106, p. 140), but this conflicts with everything the Abreviacion (cap. 178, f. 296) and the Cronica tell us about the way the Prince learned of the matter (beginning with the letters he received from Toledo and ending with the findings of his pesquisa), and above all with the significant datum we possess that the discovery of the conspiracy and the end of the conspirators caused the King great annoyance {Cronica, p. 668a; Abreviacion, cap. 178 [end], f. 296: De todo esto, desque el Rey lo supo, ovo dello grande enojo). There was no reason for the king to be annoyed over the failure of the conspiracy if it was he who had revealed to the Prince the plan of the conspirators. 66. Cronica, p. 668a. 67. Ibid., ibid. 68. Ibid., ibid. 69. Ibid., ibid. 70. Ibid., ibid. 71. Ibid., ibid. 72. Ibid., ibid. 73. Ibid., ibid; Abreviacion, f. 296. 74. Ibid.; Cronica, p. 668a; Higuera, op. cit., cap. 10, f. 24ov. That the execution was ordered by the Prince is stated in the Cuarta Cronica General, loc. cit., p. 140. 75. Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1, p. 670a; Halconero, cap. 383, p. 538. 76. Ibid., ibid. 77. Ibid., ibid.; Halconero, cap. 383,. p. 538. 78. Ibid., ibid.; Cronica, p. 670a. 79. Ibid., ibid. 80. Ibid., ibid; Abreviacion, cap. 175, f. 299.

NOTES

1234 ] 81. 82. 83. 84.

Cronica, p. 670a. Ibid., p. 671a. Halconero, cap. 383, p. 538. We can gather this from the Halconero s statement that when the Prince left Toledo for Segovia, “traxo consigo al dicho Pero Sarmiento, e a su muger e fijos, con toda su fazienda” (ibid., p. 539). This must have been the original understanding, of which the Halconero was informed and which, he thought, was carried into effect. 87. See Coleccion Diplomdtica, pp. 28ff; and see below, pp. 665-666. 86. See Halconero, cap. 383, p. 539; Cronica, p. 671a; and see below, appendix C. 87. Ibid., ibid.; and see Higuera, op. cit., ms. 1290, f 295. The Petition 1. Concerning this date see above, pp.

342> 344, 3932. See above, p. 321. The Petition (under the title of soplicacion e rrequerimiento) is included in the Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, ed. Carriazo, 1946, pp. 520-526. The final part of this document, which is missing in the Halconero, appears (with some re¬ visions) in the abridgment of the Halconero, ms. 434, Biblioteca de Santa Cruz, University of Valladolid, ff. 289-290“ (Carriazo printed this missing part in his introduction to the Refundicion de la Cronica del Halconero, 1946, pp. cxciii-cxciv); from the concluding section we can see that the rebels entitled their presentation a Petition, see ibid., p. cxciv. See also the ms. in the Archives of Simancas, which deals with Toledan events of 1448-1449 (cf. Julian Paz, Archivo general de Simancas, Catdlogo I; Diversos de Castilla, Madrid, 1904, p. 26, no. 112, Fragmento de Historia, etc.). 3. Halconero, p. 521: “en nombre ... de la rrepublica de vuestros rreynos’) Refun¬ dicion, p. cxciii: “e en nombre de todas las otras ciudades de vuestros reinos.”

(pages 349-354)

4. See below, p. 510. 5. According to the Petition, “son fechos pobres todos los vuestros naturales” (Halconero, p. 521), “e es perdido todo el estado de los oficiales e labradores” {ibid., p. 522). Also, Alvaro de Luna “a desaforado las cibdades e villas e logares de vuestros rreynos, e los grandes dellos” {ibid., p. 523). 6. See below, pp. 364—365, 509—511. 7. See RAH, Memorias de Don Enrique IV de Castilla, pp. 1-4; see also Juan Rizzo de Ramirez, Juicio crlticoy signification polltica de D. Alvaro de Luna, 1965, pp.

324~33I8. See Halconero, pp. 320-334; cf. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1440, cap. v, pp. 560—562b. Judging by the Halconero, the document was dated between Feb. 18, 1440 (p. 313) and March 22, 1440 (P- 333); 9. See Rizzo, op. cit., pp. 325, 326, 327; Halconero, pp. 323,327; the Petition, ibid., pp. 521, 524. 10. Halconero, p. 324 (desordenada cobdicia); see Petition, ibid., p. 521 (cobdicia desordenada). 11. Rizzo, op. cit., pp. 325-326; Halconero, pp. 326-327; the Petition, ibid., pp. 523—524. 12. Rizzo, op. cit., p. 327; Halconero, p. 325; the Petition, ibid., pp. 523-524. 13. Rizzo, op. cit., p. 327; Halconero, p. 325; the Petition, ibid., p. 522. 14. Rizzo, op. cit., pp. 327-328; Halconero, p. 325; the Petition, ibid., pp. 522—523. 15. Halconero, p. 326. 16. Ibid., p. 521. 17. Ibid., pp. 324-325. 18. Ibid., p. 522. 19. Ibid., p. 326. 20. Ibid., p. 524:... e rrobadas las tierras e vasallos, asy de los propios de la dicha cibdad como de su juridiyion, e de las otras; and cf. above, n. 5. 21. Ibid., pp. 329-330. 22. Ibid., p. 522 (. . . al fin que con el poder vuestro acavase a todos los grandes de vuestros rreynos). 23. Ibid., p. 332.

(pages 354-368)

NOTES

24. Ibid., p. 522 (asy por nombre como por efeto). 25. See also ibid., p. 524: porque vuestra seiioria [i.e., the King] . . . non quiera dar logar que el dicho vuestro condestable quiera ser rrey e senor dellos. 26. Ibid., p. 521. 27. Ibid., ibid. 28. Ibid., p. 523: los quales por la mayor parte son fallados ser ynfieles e herejes, e han judayzado e judayzan, e han guardado e guardan los mas dellos los rritos e cerimonias de los judios. 29. Ibid., ibid. 30. See ibid., p. 521 (vuestros naturales) and p. 523 (vuestros subditos). 31. 32. 33. 34.

Ibid., pp. 521-522. Ibid., p. 523. Ibid., pp. 521-522. Halconero, p. 523: “so color e nombre de cristianos, prebaricando, estroxesen las animas e cuerpos e faziendas de los cristianos viejos en la fee catol-

ica. 35. Ibid., ibid. 36. See above, pp. 353—35437. Concerning the views on the conversos of K. J. von Hefele and Menendez Pelayo, see my article “La razon de la Inquisicion,” in Inquisition Espanola y Mentalidad Inquisitorial, ed. Angel Alcala, 1984, pp. 26-28, 32-33. Similar views were expressed by many authors, such as E. Schafer, Beitrdge zur Geschichte des spanischen Protestantismus und der Inquisition im XVI. Jahrhundert, I, 1902, p. 41; C. Sanchez-Albornoz, Espana, un enigma historico, 1962, II, pp. 253, 255, 288; B. Llorca, “La Inquisicion espanola y los conversos judios o Marranos, in Sefarad, VIII (1948), ppI5IJ NLopez Martinez, Los Judaizantes Castellanos y la Inquisicion, 1954, pp187-213; and others. 38. See below, p. 391. 39. See his Fortalitium Fidei, lib. II, Consideratio VI, heresis I (ed. Lyons,

[

12 35

1511, f. 76"). And see below, pp. 839-841. 40. We refer of course to the trial of the Holy Child of La Guardia in which the alleged plot to destroy the Spanish people occupies a central position (see on this below, pp. 1089-1090). 41. See above, pp. 191-196. 42. See above, pp. 11—14, 42-43, 66-68, 127-128. 43. See Espina, op. tit., ff. 44. Ibid., ibid., f. 76". 45. Halconero, p. 523: otros de ellos an adorado e adoran ydolos. 46. Ibid., ibid.: “los conversos de linaje de los judios de vuestros senorios e rrey nos, los quales por la mayor parte son fallados ser ynfieles e herejes.” 47. Ibid., ibid.: “E otros muchos dellos an blasfemado muy aspera e grauemente de nuestro Salvador de Jesucristo, e de la gloriosa Virge’n Maria su madre.” 48. See above, n. 46. The Sentencia 1. See above, pp. 324-327. 2. See Marcos Garcia’s “Memorial,” in Sefarad, XVII (1957), pp. 326-328, 332-333, and other places. 3. The text of the Sentencia-Estatuto, in Martin Gamero’s Historia de Toledo, p. 1037, reads: en la qual frecuentemente bomitan de ligero judaizando. This recalls but also distorts the known phrase of the Council of Agde (c. 34): Judaei quorum perfidia frequenter ad vomitum redit (cf. Prov. 26.11). 4. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037. 5. See Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 308. 6. Corpus Iuris Canonici, c. 31, C. 17, q. 4, cap. constituit (ed. Aemilius Friedberg, Decreti Secunda Pars, v. I, p. 823). 7. Forum Judicum, lib. xii, tit. II, lex 18. 8. Ibid., ibid.. Whenever a Jew . . . renounces the perfidy of his religion and is converted to the profession of the true Catholic faith and, repudiating the errors of his rites and ceremonies, lives his life according to the customs of the

12 3 6

]

NOTES

Christians, he shall be free from every burden or disability, which formerly, when attached to the Jewish faith, he would have been subject to for the public benefit (see The Visigothic Code, translated by S. P. Scott, 1910, p. 377). 9. Significantly, the Fuero Juzgo (lib. xii, tit. 2, ley 19) omitted the general statement about the removal of all disabilities from sincere converts from Judaism to Christianity, as indicated in the Forum Judicum (see above, n. 8), and limited itself to stating that such converts will have freedom of commerce with Christians. See Codigos Espanoles, I, 1872, p. 189a. 10. Forum Judicum, lib. xii, tit. 2, ley x. n. Seemingly supporting this under¬ standing is the law’s exemption of converts’ offspring, whose “good customs and good faith” were vouched for by “a priest, the King or a judge” (ibid., ibid.), from the general pro¬ hibition it imposes on converts of the first generation. Notable is also the similarity between this law and the 64th law of the Fourth Toledan Council that denied the right of giving testimony not to all converts from Judaism to Christianity, but explicitly to those who “became Christians some time ago, and later transgressed against the faith of Christ” (judaei . . . qui dudum christiani effecti sunt et nunc in Christi fidem praevaricati sunt, ad testimonium dicendum admitti non debent). See Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 307a. 12. Such as Fernan Diaz de Toledo (see below, p. 400) and Diaz de Montalvo in his comment on the Fuero Real de Espana, lib. IV, tit. iii, ley 2 (ed. 1781, v. II, p. 349ab). That the law refers only to insincere converts is proven, says Montalvo, from the law itself which speaks explicitly of those who hace[n\ engano contra la Fe. Montalvo here cites (in his Latin work) the law as given in the Fuero Juzgo which not always corresponds precisely to the laws in

13.

14. if.

16.

(pages 368—369)

the Forum Judicum. In this instance, however, the Spanish version correctly transmits the Latin original; see Leges Visigothorum, ed. K. Zeumer, 1902, p. 416 (in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Legum Sectio I, v. I). With this, it should be noted that, while the law considers all converts from Judaism false converts, it does not hold the same view of their de¬ scendants who (it admits) may be of good morals and true adherents of the faith. To qualify for testimony among Christians, however, their religious sincerity must be attested by highly credible persons (cf. above, n. 11). See below, p 400. Most probably, because they could not find a canon supporting the prohibition on testimony, and a civil law supporting the one on public offices, the authors of the Statute preferred not to indicate the precise laws which they had in mind and referred to the canon and civil laws generally (Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038); and see below, n. 16. See the Sentencia-Estatuto in Martin Gamero, op. cit., 1036, 1037, 1039; and Marcos Garcia’s “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 319. For the correct text of Garcia’s statement on this matter, see my article, “Did the Toledans in 1449 Rely on a Real Royal Privilege?” in PAAJR, XLIV (1977), pp. 104-ioy. It should be noted that the reference to the prohibition on testimony al¬ legedly decreed in Alfonso’s privi¬ lege is indicated in the Memorial (see loc. cit., p. 102, ioj), but not in the Sentencia, which lumps together canon law, civil law and Alfonso’s privilege as a common basis for denying converts the rights to office and testimony, without indicating which of these laws denies specifically any of these rights (Martin Gamero, op. cit., pp. 1038-1039). Specifically related to King Alfonso’s privilege is only the prohibition on

offices and benefices (see ibid., pp. 1036, io37, io39)17. See Amador, Historia, III, p. 120, and E. Benito Ruano, “La SentenciaEstatuto . . in Revista de la Universidad de Madrid, VI (1957), P- 279. 18. See my detailed discussion of this issue in my article, “Did the Toledans in 1449 Rely on a Real Royal Privilege?”, loc. cit., pp. 93-125. 19. Cf. Montalvo’s comment on the Fuero Real, ed. cited, p. 352a. 20. See below, p. 626. 21. See Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1036 (por ser sospechosos en la fe de nuestro senor). 22. Ibid., p. 1037: “. . . e por quanto contra muy gran parte de conversos de esta ciudad, descendientes del linaje de los judios de ella, se prueba, e parecio e parece evidentemente, ser personas muy sospechosas en la santa fe catholica.” 23. Ibid., ibid. 24. Ibid., ibid. 25. Ibid., ibid, (procedieron contra algunos de ellos a fuego); and cf. Higuera, op. cit., lib. 28, cap. 6, ms. 1290, f. 225: y quemaron a algunos con titulo que judaiyavan. 26. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037; cf. above, nn. 22, 23. 27. See above, pp. 370-372. 28. See above, pp. 362-363. 29. Grammatically feminine in Hebrew, the Shekhina (divine presence) is conceived in the Cabbala as the last of the ten Sephirot and as the feminine element of the divine essence. On the Shekhina see especially G. Scholem, Elements of the Kabbalah and its Symbolism (Hebrew), Jerusalem, 1976, chapter 8. 30. See

id.,

[ 12 3 7

NOTES

{pages 369-372)

Major

Trends

in

Jewish

Mysticism, 1941, p. 229b 31. Ibid., p. 30; and see my article “On the Composition Date of the Cabbalistic Books of Hapeliah and Haqanah," in S. IV. Baron Jubilee Volume, 1975 (HI, Hebrew part), especially p. 258.

32. See Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037: En el Jueves Santo mientras se consagra en la Santa Iglesia de Toledo el santissimo oleo y chrisma, e se pone el Cuerpo de nuestro Redemptor en el Monumento, los dichos conversos degiiellan corderos, e los comen e facen otros generos de olocaustos e sacrificios judaizando, segun mas largamente se contiene en la pesquisa sobre esta razon fecha por los vicarios de la dicha Santa Iglesia de Toledo. 33. The word used in the Sentencia for this description is judaizando-, see above, n.

3234. See Mishna, Moed, Pesahim, 5.1; Tosefta (ed. Lieberman), Moed, Pasha, v. 2—3; Maimonides, Korbanot, Hilkhot korban Pesah, 1. 1, 8.3, 10.12—13. 35. Ibid., Hilkhot Hagiga, I. 1, 1.3. 36. See Numbers 28,11; Maimonides, ‘Avodah, Hilkhot temidin u-Musafin, VII, 3. On the second day of Passover an added burnt offering was made (ibid.). 37. The reason: sacrifices could be offered only in the Temple court (see Mishna, Zevahim, chapter V; concerning the Passover sacrifice, see ibid., v. 8); Maimonides, Hilkhot korban Pesah, 1.3). The prohibition was treated with such gravity that, following the destruction of the Second Temple, it was forbidden for Jews to prepare for the Passover feast a whole roasted kid lest it might be regarded as a substitute for the Passover sacrifice. See Caro, Orah Hayyim, siman 469. 38. According to the Jewish calendar, the 14th of Nisan fell that year on a Friday. The problem of the date of the Last Supper which, according to Christ¬ ian tradition, took place on a Thurs¬ day, was therefore a subject of ramified scholarly inquiry and con¬ troversy. Among the various views on this subject see Joseph Klausner, Jesus of Nazareth, 1929, p. 326; W.O.E. Oesterley, The Jewish Background of the Christian Liturgy, 1925, pp. 154-165; and

**38]

NOTES

Ch. C. Torrey, “The Date of the Crucifixion According to the Fourth Gospel,” in Journal of Biblical Liter¬ ature, L(i93i), pp. 227-241. 39. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037: . o de alii, porque los santos decretos lo presumen, resulta la major pane de los dichos conversos no sentir bien de la santa fe catholica.” 40. See below, pp. 441—442. 41. See below, p. 443. 42. See M. Orti y Lara, La Inquisiscion,

43. 44. 45. 46.

*932. PP- 4I-43> S3S4, following St. Thomas’ Summa Theologica (II", IIae, Q. XI, art. 4) and Las Siete Partidas (VII, tit. 26, ley 2). See below, pp. 442-443. See below, p. 443. See below, p. 616. See above, p. my.

47. See above, n. 22 of this chapter and n. 28 of chapter on Petition. 48. See above, n. 39. 49. See Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038. yo. Ibid., pp. 1036-1037. 51. Ibid., p. 1038: han oprimido, destruido, robado e estragado (in Higuera: tragado) todas las mas de las casas antiguas e faciendas de los christianos viejos de esta cibdad ... e de todos los reinos de Castilla;... todos los bienes y honras de la patria son consumidos y destruidos. 51. See above, n. 51. J3- See Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038: la tierra e lugares de los proprios de la dicha cibdad son despoblados e des¬ truidos; cf. Higuera, op. cit., lib. 28, cap. 7—ms. 1290, f. 230": e la tierra e logares e proprios de la dicha ciudad etc. 54. Martin Gamero, Ibid., ibid. 55. Ibid., ibid.: para destruir la santa fe catholica y a los christianos viejos en ella creyentes. 56. Ibid., ibid.: segun es notorio, e por tal los habemos; and further on: como segun es dicho, es publico e notorio, e por tal los habemos e tenemos; and on several other occasions.

{pages 373-378)

57. Ibid., ibid. 58. See Lucas’ Chronicon Mundi, III, era 748, in Andreas Schottus, Hispaniae Illustratae, IV, 1608, 70-71 (Spanish translation: Cronica de Espaiia por Lucas, etc., ed. Julio Puyol, 1926, p. 270). According to Lucas, the Christians of Toledo went on Palm Sunday to the Church of Santa Leocadia, which was located outside the city, a cir¬ cumstance which gave the Jews the opportunity to carry out their treacherous design. And cf. Primera Cronica General de Espana, ed. R. Menendez Pidal, I, 1955, p. 316a. 59- See Norman Roth’s convincing arguments in his article “The Jews and the Muslim Conquest of Spain,” in Jewish Social Studies, XXXVII (1976), pp. ij6—158, and Pilar Leon Tello, Judios de Toledo, 1,1979, pp. 20-21. Leon Tello points to the practical impossibility (and illogical assump¬ tion) that the Christians would abandon the city during the siege (p. 20); she also refers {ibid., p. 21) to the treaty of surrender allegedly signed between the Moslems and the Toledans, according to which the latter, if they wished, could leave the city freely with their movable possessions (according to Chronicon de Petn Juliani archipresbyteri S. Iustae, Paris, 1628, p. 90). 60. The numbers given by the Sentencia for the victims (killed and captured), segun se falla por chronicas antiguas (see Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038), how¬ ever, are not found in Lucas or in any of the other extant chronicles of Spain. 61. See Pnmera Cronica General (cited above, n. y8), especially chapter 557, pp. 309-310. On the historical reality of the Moslem conquest of Toledo, see E. Levi-Proven9al, Espana Musulmana, 711—iOji, in Histona de Espana, IV, 1950, PPE. Saavedra, Estudio sobre la Invasion de los Arabes en Espana, 1892, PP- 70—73-

(pages 378-385)

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

[ 1239

NOTES

Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Halconero, p. 519. Ibid., ibid. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038: los dichos conversos descendientes de los judios.

which were undoubtedly racial (see above, pp. 281-282), we have no evidence that these reasons were explicitly declared. 75. Halconero, p. 526. 76. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037.

The Relator

68. Ibid., ibid. 69. Ibid., ibid.: los dichos conversos descendientes del perverso linaje de los judios. 70. Ibid., p. 1039: scan habidos e tenidos como el derecho los ha e tiene por infames, inhabiles, incapaces e indignos para haber todo oficio e beneficio publico y privado en la dicha cibdad de Toledo. 71. Ibid., p. 1040. 72. Ibid., pp. 1037, 1039, 1040. 73. Ibid., p. 1039: linaje y ralea de los judios. According to R. Menendez Pidal and others (see Revista de Filologi'a Espaiiola, xxxiv [1950], pp. 4-5), Undo is a derivation from limpidus (clean). Cf. A. Dominguez Ortiz Los Judeoconversos en Espana y America, 1978, p. 25, n. 14. The title lindos (in the original sense of limpios), as qualifying the Old Christians against the “dirty” New Christians, must have been a common description toward the middle of the century (note the expression 11 sucios judios” as designating the conversos against “e yo... christiano viejo, limpio in the “Memorial” of Marcos Garcia, in Sefarad, XVII [1957], pp. 346,347)reappears in the letter of Pedro de Mesa, canon of the Church of Toledo, about the Toledan riots of 1467- He uses the term “christianos lindos” as meaning “Christianos viejos” (see Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1040). Ms. 2041 of BNM, however, which was probably composed c. 1470, describes the Old Christians as “limpios.” 74. Although, as we have seen, conversos in Aragon were excluded from certain Old Christian associations for reasons

1. Several aspects of the work were . examined by Nicholas G. Round, “Politics, Style and Group Attitudes in the Instruccion del Relator," in Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, XL VI (1969), pp. 289-319. Apart from this, the Instruccion has been dealt with only briefly by several writers; see J. Amador de los Rios, Historia de los Judios, III, pp. 62-63, 121—123; A. A. Sicroff, Les controverses des Status de “Purete de Sang” en Espagne, i960, pp. 38-41; Tarsicio de Azcona, Isabel la Catolica, 1964, pp. 373, 374, 378; E. Benito Ruano, “La ‘Sentencia Estatuto’ de Pero Sarmiento,” in Revista de la Universidad de Madrid, VI (1957, pp. 286-289). The Instruction was first printed by Fermin Caballero, Doctor Montalvo, 1873, pp. 243-254, and reprinted from the same source by Manuel Alonso, as appendix to Alonso de Cartagena s Defensorium Unitatis Christianae, 1943, pp. 343-356. In our citations from the Instruction, we shall refer to the latter edition. 2. It was preceded by at least two works on the subject, which have not come down to us: 1. Alfonso de Cartagena’s rebuttal of the Toledans which was written in Castilian and addressed to the King (see his Defensorium unitatis christianae, ed. Manuel Alonso, 1943, p. 61); 2. A seven point paper against the Statute, which, in all likelihood, was composed by the converso Garcia Alvaroz de Toledo who later became bishop of Astorga (see concerning this above, pp. 1230—1231, n. 12). Alvarez’ father, Alonso Alvarez de Toledo (see Higuera, op. cit., ms. 1290,

I240 ]

NOTES

f 23iv), may be identified with Alfonso Alvarez who is mentioned by the Relator as his cousin (see his “Instruccion”, loc. cit., p. 352). It is questionable whether either of the aforesaid two papers was meant for public consumption. Nor, as we shall see, was the Relator’s Instruction intended for wide circulation. Its excellence, however, overcame that intent. And so it was made pub¬ lic—first, by Lope de Barrientos (in a revised form; see below, pp. 610—618), and later, most likely, in the original version. This may account for its survival. 3. Amador, Historia, III, p. 121. 4. See Marcos Garda’s “Memorial,” in Sefarad, XVII, p. 346. Marcos Garda says of him that he was notoriously a Jew and one who descended from the “vilest and dirtiest Jews (los mas viles et sucios judios) of Alcala de Henares.” I see no reason to speak of the “possible Hebrew ancestry” of the Relator as does Benito Ruano (see Sefarad, xvii, p. 346, n. 15), as if there were the slightest doubt about his origin. In his appeal to the Bishop of Cuenca, the Relator identifies himself as a converso (see pp. 343, 3y6) and speaks of his own and his cousin’s grandchildren who intermarried with Old Christians (see p. 352). In addition, he is mentioned among the most illustrious converts in a note written c. 1470 (see Lopez Martinez, Los judaizantes Castellanos, p. 389); and see also the note (from the end of the 15th century) found in a margin of the proceedings of the Cortes of Cordova, 1455, in which he is defined as neophitus (see Cronicon de Valladolid, in CODOIN, XIII [1848], pp. 32-33). That he was a native of Alcala, as stated by Garda, is also indicated by the fact that one of the town’s Churches (the Parroquia de Santa Maria la Mayor) contained a chapel known as La

(.Page 385)

Capilla del Relator which served as a place of interment for himself and members of his family (see on this Rodrigo Amador de los Rios, “La parroquia de Santa Maria la Mayor de Alcala de Henares, etc.”, in Boletin de la Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, Madrid, XVIII [1898], pp. 231, 249-252, 255, 279-284; and see also Luis Ma. Cabello y Lapiedra’s work, La Capilla del Relator 6 del Oidor, etc., Madrid, 1905). That he was born a Jew may be indicated by the fact that Marcos Garcia, in his Memorial, calls him repeatedly by his alleged Hebrew name: Mose Hamomo, loc. cit., pp. 332, 323, 326, and other places. The sur¬ name Hamomo is included in the list of Jewish family names assembled by the Inquisition (see Fidel Fita, “La inquisicion toledana,” in RAH, Boletin, XI (1887), p. 310, and cf. Jose Gomez-Menor, Cristianos Nuevos y Marcaderes de Toledo, 1970, pp. xxx— xxxi). According to Pedro de Salazar y de Mendoya, Cromca de el Gran Cardenal de Espana, 1625, lib. ii, cap. 54, p. 385, Fernan Diaz de Toledo was physician to Juan II of Castile and later holder of various church offices, having been in succession Archdeacon of Niebla, Canon of Toledo, and Major Chaplain of the New Kings (Reyes Nuevos). On the other hand, he does not mention Fernan Diaz as Relator, the title by which he became famous (ibid.). Rodrigo Amador de los Rios {loc. cit., p. 251), however, attributes the positions mentioned by Mendoza to the Relator who, accordingly, had medical and ecclesiastical careers in addition to his political and administrative ones. Yet this is virtually impossible. No doubt the reference in Mendoza’s Cronica is to another Fernan Diaz de Toledo—i.e., the Archdeacon of Niebla, who was referred to in the Instruccion {loc. cit., p. 356) as cousin of

{pages 386-389)

NOTES

the Relator (see on him Benito Ruano, “La Sentencia etc., loc. cit., p. 289, n. 41, and N. G. Round, “Politics, Style, etc.,” loc. cit., p. 296). y. According to a cedula issued in Avila on October 4 of that year (see F. Layna Serrano, Historia de Guadalajara y sus Mendozas, Madrid, 1942, I, p. 175). Likewise he is mentioned as the King’s secretary and referendario (as well as notary of the Privilegios Rodados) in almost all the cedulas, privileges and grants issued in behalf of Alvaro de Luna from Jan. 4, 1421 to August 1445. See the summaries of the relevant documents in the Cronica de Alvaro de Luna, ed. Josef Miguel de Flores, 1784, pp. 399ff. (Appendices). 6. In the epitaph on her tomb, his mother is described as “mater praeclari Doctoris, D. Frnandi Didaci, in Regnis Castellae Primi Relatoris." See Miguel de Portilla y Esquivel, Historia de la Ciudad de Compluto etc., Alcala, 1725,1, p. 568. Cf. Rodrigo Amador de los Rios, “La parroquia etc.,” loc. cit., p. 250, n. 1. 7. See Cronica de Juan II de Castilla of Alvar Garcia de Santa Maria for the year 1423, in CODOIN, 99, pp. 326, 433. 8. 9. 10. 11. n. 13. 14.

Ibid., v. 100, p. 310. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., pp. 310-311. Not unrelated to this fact is the assertion of the author of the Centon Epistolario that Fernan Diaz refused to share in the possessions of the con¬ demned Infantes, Juan and Enri¬ que, which were divided by the King among his favorites (see Fernan Gomez de Cibdareal, Centon Epis¬ tolario, Madrid, 177y, pp- 74-75. letter 44). The Centon Epistolario may have been a spurious work as some outstanding scholars have argued (see especially Adolfo de Castro, Sobre el Centon Epistolario, etc., i87y, and before

[ 124>

him George Ticknor, History of Spanish Literature, III, i96y [6th ed.], pp. 486-494), but the author of the Centon correctly sensed the uniqueness of Fernan Diaz’ attitude toward gain in that avaricious society. ly. CODOIN, 100, p. 310. 16. See Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, ed. Juan de Mata Carriazo, 1946, p. 327. 17.. Ibid., pp. 362-364, 376. 18. One of them, Inigo Ortiz de Stuniga, assured the Infante under solemn oath that he would “go to his land” and remain neutral in the quarrel; the other, the adelantado Parafan de Ribera, gave the Infante the same assurance, but made it conditional on the King’s failure to call him to his service. See ibid., p. 379. 19. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1441, cap. xi, p. y77a; Halconero, cap. 293, p. 379. 20. See the documents included in the Cronica de Juan II, ano 1441, cap. 30, and note Fernan Diaz’ name attached to documents of Sept. 2 and 20,1441 {ibid., pp. y92a, y92b, and y94b), not as Relator, but as oidor, referendario y secretario of the King. The title “Relator,” however, appears at the end of the King’s letter to Alvaro de Luna (dated Aug. 21, 1441) informing him of the Sentence pronounced against him {ibid., p. y9ya). 21. See Halconero, cap. 312, p. 421; Cronica de Juan II, ano 1441, cap. 30, p. y99a. 22. According to the demand of the Queen and Prince Enrique (see ibid., p. y87a; Halconero, p. 419), and the verdict against Alvaro {ibid., cap. 318, p. 426; Cronica de Juan II, p. 601a). Some of them, however, like Doctor Perianez and Alonso Perez de Vivero, were restored before long to their former positions by the new administration (see ibid., ano 1442, cap. 7, p. 609a). 23. As is evidenced by certain documents prepared by him in that period, such as the Pragmatica of April 6, 1443 (see

I242 ]

NOTES

Amador, Historia, III, p. 589). On the response of Juan II to the petitions made in Cortes (July 20, 1442) he is signed with the titles of “oydor e referendario del Rey e su secretario”—the same titles with which he countersigned the King’s response in the Cortes of Valladolid of September 10, 1440, and earlier responses in Cortes which he pro¬ cessed (see Cortes . . . de Leon y de Castilla, III, 1866, pp. 184, 250, 392, 451). 24. Possibly also his release from the prison in which he was held by the Ad¬ miral of Castile occurred after the no¬ bles were given to understand that, unless the Relator returned to the Court and was allowed to resume all his former positions, the king would refuse all negotiations with the nobles concerning the future of his ad¬ ministration. In fact, in documents related to the Sentence against Alvaro, dated Sept. 1441, Fernan Diaz appears as the King’s Otdor, referendario e secretario (Cronica de Juan II, ano 1441, cap. 30, pp. 592*, y92b and y94b), while the King’s letter to Alvaro of Aug. 21, 1441, is signed “por mandado del Rey. Relator” {ibid., p. 595a). Likewise we should note that, apart from the esteem in which he was held by the king for his abilities, he also earned the latter’s affection, as testified by at least one chronicler. Referring to Fernan Diaz de Toledo, Palencia calls him the King’s “beloved (amado) Relator” (see Cronica de Enrique IV, transl. Paz y Melia, I, 1904, p. in). 2y. A grudge of this kind may have been held by Sarmiento, who most likely believed to have been denied adequate royal grants; see above, p. 301. 26. Memorial, loc. cit., p. 348: “... e aun por quanto de un ano a esta parte el dicho Mose Hamomo fue e esta condempnado por herege e sedicioso a pena de fuego e a pena de muerte de aleuoso, como aquel que a sido e es

(pages 390-392)

proditor e traydor a su Dios e a su Rey e a su tierra.” 27. See above, p. 1235, n. 28. 28. Nicolas Lopez Martinez, Los Judaizantes Castellanos, etc., 1954, p. 389. 29. Cronica de Alvaro de Luna, p. 244. 30. See ibid., p. 431; cf. Cronica de Juan II, ano 1452, cap. 2, p. 682b; and see below, pp. 701 and 1279, n. 3. 31. All he said about him in connection with the death sentence issued against Alvaro was: “el qual por cierto era un hombre muy agudo e de sotil ingenio”; Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna, p. 431. 32. Related to this is Fernan Diaz’ statement on the marriages of some of his grandchildren with noble Old Christian families (Defensorium, p. 352). No Judaizer would speak of such marriages in such a positive vein as does the Relator. Echoing his assertions on this subject is the affirmation of the bishop Lope de Barrientos: “E algunos de los nietos del Relator son de Penasola e de Barrionuevo e de Sotomayor e Mendoza, que descienden de Juan Hurtado de Mendoza el uiejo, mayordomo mayor del Rey” (see Luis G. A. Getino, Vida y obras de Fray Lope de Barrientos, 1927, P- W)33. He continued to occupy the position of Relator at the beginning of Enrique IV’s reign (see Memorias de D. Enrique IV de Castilla, II, 1835-1913, document dated Feb. 1455, p. 140b), but his duties were soon to shrink, perhaps because of sickness or old age. In any case, later documents which appear over his signature do not bear the title of Relator. Thus, in a document of June 12, 1455, he is described as “oidor, y referendario del Rey y de su consejo y su secretario y notario mayor de los privillejos rodados” {ibid., p. 143b). The last document that bears his signa¬ ture (as “oidor, referendario and secretario” of the King) is dated Feb. 22, 1456 (see ibid., p. 148b). He died on

{pages 392—402)

May 2, 1457 (see Cronicon de Valladolid, in CODOIN, XIII (1848), p. 32; and cf. Annales Complutenses (cited by R. Amador de los Rios, loc. cit., pp. 231, n. 1, and 252, n. 1). 34. See below, p. 489. 35. Manuscripts of the “Instruction” are found in the libraries of the University of Salamanca, the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, the library of the Academia de la Historia, Madrid, and other places. For the two available editions of the “Instruction,” see above, n. 1. A critical edition based on all extant manuscripts is still a desideratum. 36. 37. 38. 39.

See ibid., pp. 346, 355. Ibid., p. 346. See below, notes 46, 47, 48. See “Instruccion,” loc. cit., pp. 346,

40. See the Latin text of the Pope’s bull in Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 202, and its Spanish translation in Memorias de Don Enrique IV, II, p. 30. 41. See above, pp. 32.3—324. 42. See Lope de Barrientos, “Contra algunos zizanadores,” etc., in Luis A. Getino, Vida y obras de Fray Lope de Barrientos, pp. 202—203, and N. Round s work, “Politics, Style, etc.”, loc. cit., p. 294, n. 1. 43. See Getino, op. cit., p. 191; and see below, pp. 610-611. 44. It is possible that in speaking of el falso obispo de linaje de judios’ (“Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 343), Marcos Garcia refers to Lope de Barrientos and not to Alonso de Cartagena. Prior to this, however, he twice called Barrientos el mal fraile {ibid., p. 342)> denouncing the bad counsels he gave the Prince, but without referring to his origin. And see concerning this below, p. 611.

47. See Round, loc. cit., p. 294, n. 1. 46. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 356. 47. Ibid., ibid, (printed: “de obligado,” but should be, in my opinion, “el abogado.”

[ iM3

NOTES

48. Ibid., p. 343 (todos lo tenemos por Padre y Protector de ella”—namely, the nacion of the conversos). 49. 50. 71. 52. 53.

Ibid., p. 256. Ibid., p. 343. Ibid., p. 344. Ibid., pp. 343—344Ibid., p. 344: no tanto entienden ni saben [lo] que fueron en tiempo de judaizmo. The ms. of Salamanca, No. 455, f. 42, which reads: que tanto no entienden ni saben e fueron en tiempo del judaismo, may be here more in agreement with the original version.

74. Ibid., ibid. 55■ Ihld> P- 34376. Ibid., p. 344: que dice que es canonizado y fecho decreto de ello. 77^ See Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 308. 78. Fuero Juzgo, lib', xii, tit. 2, ley 10 {Codigos antiguos de Espana, ed. M. Martinez Alcubilla, I, 1892, p. 64b). 79. Guido de Baysio, Rosarium decretorum, on causa 17, q. 4, c. 31. 60. This would be in accord with c. 64 of the Fourth Toledan Council which forbids testimony not to any convert from Judaism to Christianity, but specifically to those who, after their conversion, “played false with the faith of Christ” (see Gonzalez-Tejada, II, p. 307: judaei ergo, qui dudum christiani effecti sunt et nunc in christi fidem praevaricati sunt, ad testi¬ monium dicendum admitti non debent). 61. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 344. 62. Ibid., p. 347. 63. Ibid., ibid.: Decretales Gregorii IX, lib. I, tit. II, cap. 7 (Earn te in De rescriptis); see Corpus Iuris Canonici, ed. Friedberg, II, pp. 18-19. 64. Ibid., ibid.: sobre aquel paso dicen los doctores, que no solo no deben ser desdenados, mas que deben ser favorescidos. 67. Ibid., p. 347; cf. Romans II. 10. 66. Ibid., ibid. 67. Ibid., ibid.

1 2 44 ]

(pages 402-411)

NOTES

68. Ibid., p. 346. 69. See above, p. 292. 70. See Partidas, I, tit. II, leyes 17 and

9-

>

71. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 346. 72. Ibid., pp. 346-347. 73. Ibid., p. 350. From the Relator’s discussion of this point it is clear that by “those who come to the faith” he refers to the gerim of the Old Testament who had been regarded, prior to their adoption of Judaism, as “strangers” both ethnically and religiously. In the conversion of Jews (“the descendants of the Israelitic stock”) to Christianity, the Relator evidently saw a solution to the problem of their alienship in the Christian world. 74. Ibid., pp. 347-348. 75. Ibid., p. 347. 76. Ibid., pp. 345, 349 (gradne heregia; notori a heregia). 77. Ibid., p. 345. 78. Ibid., ibid. 79. Ibid., p. 349. 80. Ibid., ibid. 81. Ibid., ibid. 82. Ibid., ibid. 83. Ostensibly, “kill those of his race” may refer to the converts of the Jewish race; but the conclusion of the sentence (the Church prays ... that he bring them to the faith) indicates that the reference was to thejews generally, and not only to converts. 84. Ibid., ibid.: “Despues que oiga Marquillos tan grande heregia como dice, no see quales orejas Christianas e piadosas lo puedan oir, nin qual corazon fiel e Catholico lo pueda sufrir.” The word oiga in the beginning of this sentence (as printed by both Caballero and Alonso) makes no sense. It should be replaced by diga, in accordance with mss. 721, f. 87, and 2041, f. 14’, of the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid. 85. Ibid., ibid.

86. Ibid., p. 350. 87. Romans 2.9. The Relator here seems to have followed Ambrosius who said: “Just as the faithful Jew should be more honored [see Romans 2.10] because of Abraham, the dissenting one should be treated worse because he refuted the promises given to the fathers” (see Glossa Ordinaria on Romans 2.9). Ambrosius, however, had to coordinate this view with the principle of equality of all men before God, and therefore, in commenting on Romans 2.12, added that “God does not follow the prerogative of race so as to accept the dissident for the sake of his fathers, or reject the faithful because of the fathers’ unworthiness.” Hence the “greater honor” is merely an indication of the special respect due to Abraham, or a sign of recognition of the promises given him (Gen. 22.18 and 26.4). Jerome thought that “primum pro quidem ponit,” but con¬ sidered the possibility that the “Jew first in honor” indicated merely a chronological precedence (the Jew was “first in time” to believe in God), and therefore it applied to the pre-Christian period when the gentiles were still living by the law of Nature. To the Christian period, in any case, related the rule that the “Jew was first in punishment,” for, unlike the gentiles, he was instructed by the written Law (in addition to the Law of Nature), and thus was supposed to know better (see his Commentaria in Epistolam ad Romanos, 2.9, ML 30,

t>54~655)88. Ibid., p. 344: . . de los quales creo que hay muy pocos ahora, ca dudo que en todo Toledo de estos haya dies”. 89. See above, n. 53. 90. Ibid., p. 348. 91. See his Responsa, no. 89, ed. Livorno, p. i7ab, and my Marranos of Spain, 19732, pp. 45-46.

(pages 411-421)

NOTES

92. 93. 94. 95.

Ibid., p. 350. Ibid., ibid. See below, pp. 634, 654. See below, p. 572 (for the view of Cartagena). 96. Ibid., p. 351: E si en Castilla se levantara alguna Heregia, no por eso se sigue que sean en ella todos los Castellanos. 97. Ezekiel 18.20; “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 35198. Ibid., ibid. 99. See Tizon de Espana (or: Tizon de la Nobleza), ed. 1871, pp. 2,3, 4, 5, 6,33,34, 40 (reprinted by Caro Baroja, Los Judlos en la Espana moderna e contemporanea, 1961, III, pp. 288-289).

100. See below, p. 506. 101. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., pp. 352-354. 102. Ibid., p. 354: ... a los quales todos no fase poca injuria el herege malvado de Marquillos el poner contra ellos esta mancilla. 103. Ibid., ibid. 104. Ibid., ibid.: lo que mas malo e peor es a sabiendas dogmatizar con grande error una fee; and p. 355: Marquillos ha dogmatizado esta heregia. 105. Ibid., p. 354. 106. Ibid., p. 355: es cierto que continuando su costumbre Diabolica, querra ir por ella adelante. 107. Ibid., ibid., p. 353. 108. Ibid., p. 346: bien creo . . . que estos seiiores, que cerca de su merced son, acatando su virtud, y sus personas, y dignidades, y Linajes, [no] quieran ser en cosas de tan mal exemplo.— Note the word linajes, which we translated as origins, but which means, to be precise, lineages, or the ancestral lines of descent. 109. no. hi. 112. 113. 114. 115.

Ibid., p. 351. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 348. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 348-349. Cf. Paul of Burgos’ letter to Lorki in

[ '245

L. Landau, Das apologetische Schretben des Josua Lorki, 1906, p. 19. 116. See below, pp. 935-937.

Juan de Torquemada 1. The first modern biography of Torquemada by Stephan Lederer (Der Spanische Cardinal Johann von Torquemada, 1879), although still of value, has been somewhat outdated by the many new data that have come to light since its publication. Partly meeting our present-day needs are the shorter studies of Torquemada’s life that appeared as introductions to some of his works, which were published or republished in the past four decades (such as J. F. Stockmann’s introduction to T.’s De corpore Christi mystico, 1951, and Nicolas Lopez Martinez’ introduction to Torquemada’s Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, Burgos, 1957). Doc¬ umentarily important are V. Beltran de Heredia’s collections of documents related to Torquemada’s life, published in Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, VII (1937), 210-245, and XXX (i960), 53-148, and bibliographically (for Torquemada’s own writings), J. M. Garrastachu, “Los manuscritos del Cardinal Torquemada en la Biblioteca Vaticana,” in Ciencia Tomista, XL1 (1930), 188-217, 291-322 (in addition to the list of Torquemada’s works, published and unpublished, in Quetif-Echard, Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum, I, 1719, 839-842). Concerning Torquemada’s general view of the Church, see Karl Binder, IVesen und Eigenschaften der Kirche bei Kardinal Juan de Torquemada, 1955; Thomas M. Izbicki, Protector of the Faith, 1981, 31-119; and W. E. Maguire, John of Torquemada: The Antiquity of the Church, 1957. For T.’s position on the critical questions of papal primacy and infallibility, see especially Emmanuel Candal, introduction to Torquemada’s Apparatus super decretum Florentinum

1246 ]

2.

3. 4.

5.

6.

7. 8. 9.

10.

11.

12. 13.

14.

NOTES

unionis Graecorum, 1942; August Langhorst, “Der Cardinal Turrecremata und das Vaticanum iiber die Jurisdictionsgewalt der Bischofe,” in Stimmen aus Maria-Laach, XVII (1879), pp. 447-462; Joseph Hergenrother, Anti-Janus (transl. by J. B. Robertson), 1870; and V. Proano Gil, “Doctrina de Juan de Torquemada sobre el Concilio,” in Burgense, I (i960), pp. 73—96.—On T.’s historical influence, see K. Binder, op. cit., pp. 196-207. 1450; see the very end of Torquemada’s work mentioned below, n. 4. See below, pp. 724—725, on the change of Marrano tactics of self-defense. J. de Torquemada, Symbolum pro information Manichaeorum, ed. N. Lopez Martinez y Proano Gil, 1958, prolog, p. 5. Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, ed. N. Lopez Martinez y V. Proano Gil, 1957. See Hernando de Castillo, Primera Parte de la Historia General de Santo Domingo y de su Orden, etc., Valencia, 1587, lib. iii, cap. 32, p. 488b. See the discussion concerning this by Stockmann, loc. cit., p. 16. See Castillo, op. cit., p. 488b. Coronica de Don Alfonso el Onceno, cap. 101 (ed. BAE, vol. 66, p. 2363b), and Cronica del Rey Don Pedro, ano 1366, caps. 4 & 5 (ed. BAE, vol. 66, pp. 539b, 540a). Cronica del Rey Don Pedro, ano 1367, cap. 37 (ed. cited: p. 579b), and ano 1368, cap. 3, p. 581b. Beltran de Heredia, “Coleccion de documentos ineditos para ilustrar la vida del Cardinal Juan de Tor¬ quemada,” in Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, VII (1937), pp. 230-232. Stockmann, loc, cit., p. 16. A. Touron, Histoire des hommes illustres, III, 1746, p. 396; Beltran de Heredia, Ciencia Tomista, LXXIII (1948), p. 335. Emmanuel Candal, loc. cit., p. viii,

(pages 421—422)

n. 2. 15. Stockmann, loc. cit., p. 17. 16. See Lopez Martinez, loc. cit., p. 100, n. 8, and J. Goni Gaztambide, “Recompensas de Martin V a sus electores espanoles,” in Hispania Sacra, XI (1958), pp. 15-20. 17. His constitution to this effect, which he made public on March 10, 1418 (see Creighton, History of the Papacy, II, p. 109), was preceded by his refusal to accept the Council’s view (expressed in its decree of October 30, 1417) concerning the “causes for which a Pope could be admonished or deposed” (see ibid., p. 107). His plan to act as supreme arbiter in Christendom in all matters related to the faith was also indicated in his announcement (on April 22) that he would “approve and ratify” all the decrees made materias fidei per praesens sacrum concilium conciliariter" {ibid., p. 116), thereby leaving the door open for himself to reject any decision of the Council, which was not made conciliariter— that is to say, which, in his judgment, was not within the Council’s rights (otherwise there was no sense in adding the word conciliariter to the phrase per sacrum concilium). Cf. Ph. Schaff, History of the Christian Church, VI, 1910, pp. 165-166. 18. The plan for this school was authorized by the Pope at Fray Luis’ request; see ibid., p. 20; “Cron¬ ica Fratris Ludovici de Valladolid,” in Analecta Sacri Ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum, XX (1932), 727-731; and R. Rius Serra, “Los rotulos de la universidad de Valladolid,” in Analecta Sacra Tarraconensia, XVI (1943), pp. 95—9719. See Quetif-Echard, op. cit., p. 837b, and P. Feret, La faculte de Theologie de Paris et ses docteurs les plus celebres, IV, 1897, P336; see also H. Denifle-A. Chatelain, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, IV (1897), p. 428.

NOTES

(pages 422—424)

20. Stockmann, loc. cit., p. 17. 21. Claiming that sanctity and true religiosity were giving way to worldly interests in almost all parts of the Church hierarchy, he urged the adoption of special regulations that might help reverse or arrest these trends; yet he put greater emphasis on inner spiritual change than on administrative correctives. See K. Binder, “El Cardenal Juan de Torquemada y el movimiento de reforma eclesiastica en el siglo XV,” in Revista de Teologi'a, La Plata, III (1953), nu. 12, 42—65. 22. Thus following the adoption by the Council of the Decretum irritans denying the Pope’s right to grant bishoprics and benefices (against which he spoke in June 1433; see J. Haller, Concilium Basiliense, 1897, vol. II, pp. 422-423; Mansi, xxx, 550-590), he opposed the Avisamentum by which the Council warned the Pope that he must follow the directives of that decree or else face deposition (ibid., ibid., 56-61); he also rejected as invalid the Council’s claim that, in his bull of December 15, 1433 (Dudum sacrum), the Pope agreed to abide by all the decisions of the Council (Stockmann, loc. cit., p. 20). These, however, were only his first steps in his protracted conciliar battle. 23. N. Valois, Le

Pape

et

le

Concile

(1418-1450), II, 1909, p. 112. 24. Stockmann, op. cit., pp. 23-24; Candal, op. cit., p. xxiv. 25. Ibid., p. xxv. 21; id., introd. to T.’s Oratio Synodalis de Primatu, 1954, p. xxxi.16. In his later discussions of the subject (especially in his commentary on Gratian’s Decretum and his Summa de Ecclesia), Torquemada developed, but also limited this principle, so that ultimately he came to concede that, in matters of faith, the decisions of the Council may override decisions to the contrary of the Pope (see Vicente

[ 1 2 47 Proafio Gil, “Doctrina de Juan de Torquemada sobre el Concilio,” in Burgense, I, pp. 89—94). F°r t^ie differences between Torquemada and Guido Terreni, a 14th century proponent of papal infallibility, see Th. M. Izbicki, “Infallibility and the Erring Pope,” in Law, Church and Society, ed. K. Pennington & R. Somerville, 1977, pp. 97-m. On the rise .of the doctrine and its early phases of development, see B. Tierney, The Origins of Papal Infallibility, 1150-1550,

1972, pp. 842-864. 26. See Stockmann, loc. cit., p. 27. 27. Comment, in Decretum Gratiani Partes V, 6 vols., Lyon, 1516. 28. Summa de Ecclesia, Cologne, 1480 (latest ed.: Venice, 1561). 29. Most of these papers, which were delivered in various Councils, were published by J. D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, Paris, 1901-1927, XXX, cols. 550-590; 590-606; 1072-1094;; XXXI A, 41-62, 63-127; XXXV, 43-56. For his Oratio synodalis de Primatu, see below, n. 34. His address to the Diet of Mainz was published by P. Massi, as appendix to his II Magistero Infallibile de Papa nella Teologia de Giovanni Torquemada, 1957. T.’s Flores sententiarum S. Thomae Aquinatis de auctoritate summi pontificis appeared (according to QuetifEchard, op. cit., 840A) in Lyon, 1496, and Venice, 1562. 30. His Tractatus de sacramento Eucharistiae (written in 1436) was published in Lyon, 1578. The Tractatus de veritate conceptionis Beatissimae Virginis (writ¬ ten in 1437) was published in Rome, 1547. It was partly translated into English by E. B. Pusey and included in his work on the same theme: First Letter to the Rev. J. H. Newman . . . in Regard to. .. . the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, 1869. T s views on the position of Christianity toward forgiveness of sin are presented in his

i

248

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

]

NOTES

Impugnationes of the propositions of Alfonso de Madrigal (see below, n. 31). See his Reprobationes XXXVIII articulorum Bohemorum etc., written in 1442 (see Garrastachu, loc. cit., pp. 196 and 301) and his Symbolum pro informatione Manichaeorum (written in 1461), ed. N. Lopez Martinez and V. Proano Gil, 1952. Notable are also (a) his refutation of some of the views of Agostino Favaroni which seemed to be akin to those of the Hussites (written in 1435); see Mansi XXX, cols. 979—1034; and cf. Izbicki, Protector of the Faith, p. 7; (b) his censures (written in 1442) of some of the “propositions” of the Spanish theologian Alfonso de Madrigal, better known as el Tostado (see Garrastachu, loc. cit., p. 197); and (c) his Defensiones of the Revelations of St. Bridget of Sweden (written in 1434; Mansi, XXX, cols. 699-814). See on this Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 1959, pp. 122-123, 274-275, 280, 283; Hefele-Leclercq, Histoire des Conciles, VII—I, 1916, p. 968; E. Candal, his introduction to T.’s Apparatus super Decretum Florentinum Unionis Grae¬ corum, pp. xviii-xxii. Another difficult point of disagreement between the Greeks and the Latins concerned the concept of the Trinity. An insight into the controversies on all these issues from the Greek-Orthodox point of view is given by Ivan N. Ostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, transl. from the Russian by Basil Pokoff, 1971. See Stockmann, loc. cit., pp. 20—21, against Quetif-Echard and Touron who placed this appointment in 1431. This debate, which centered on the question of the Primacy, was staged by Eugene IV in September 1439; see Torquemada’s Oratio synodalis de Primatu, ed. E. Candal, 1954. The appointment was made while Torquemada was staying in Bourges

(pages 424-425)

as member of the papal delegation to the French king (see Valois, op. cit., II, p. 225, p. 2). The following year Eugene granted Torquemada the bishopric of Cadiz which, in 1442, was exchanged for that of Orense; see Beltran de Heredia, “Coleccion de documentos,” in Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, VII, p. 218; and see ibid.,

p. 229. 36. See Touron, op. cit., p. 427; Stockmann, op. cit., p. 29. 37. See ibid., pp. 32-33. Prior to this nomination Pius II appointed Tor¬ quemada to the see of Leon, but the appointment was not confirmed by King Enrique IV; see Beltran de Heredia, “Coleccion ...,” loc. cit., VII, pp. 227; id., “Noticias . . . ,” ibid., xxx, pp. 137-140. 38. Stockmann, op. cit., p. 33. 39. L. Pastor, The History of the Popes, IP, 1906, p. 9. 40. Georg Voigt, Enea Silvio de' Piccolomini, I, 1856, p. 208. 41. See, for instance, J.J.I. Dollinger, Fables Respecting the Popes in the Middle Ages, 1872, p. 247, n. 1, where he rates Torquemada’s Summa as the “most important work of the Middle Ages on the question of the extent of papal power”; see also Joseph Schwane, Dogmengeschichte der mittleren Zeit, 1887, III, p. 102,520-521,565-575; IV, 292-293; and Aug. Langhorst, in Stimmen aus Maria-Laach, XVII (1879), Freiburg im Breisgau, p. 447: “That Torquemada is . . . one of the chief representatives of the orthodox Roman Church’s teaching is not disputed by any one. 42. “Those who will read the accounts of the sessions of the Council of Basle...,” said Castillo, “will greatly esteem the faith, the constancy, the doctrine, the sanctity, the religiosity, and the Catholic heart of Juan de Tor¬ quemada.” Castillo made that evalua¬ tion with reference to Torquemada’s

{pages 425-432)

[ 1249

NOTES

defense of the Papacy. See his Historia General de Santo Domingo y su Orden, I, p. 488a. 43. See N. Antonio, Bibliotheca Hispana Vetus, p. 286a. 44. See Garrastachu, loc. cit., pp. 191-217, 291-322; Quetif-Echard, op. cit., 8357-842; Antonio, op. cit., pp. 288-292. 45. This title, bestowed on Torquemada by Eugene IV in 1439 (see above, p. 424), was reconferred on him by Pius II in 1458 (see L. Pastor, Geschichte der Papste, II, p. 7). 46. For the reforms adopted by the Council of Constance see Creighton, op. cit., II, pp. 96-99; Hefele-Leclerqc, VII (I), pp. 443-476, 484—504. 47. See E. Candal’s introduction to Torquemada’s Apparatus super decretum Florentinum unionis Graecorum, pp. xv-xvii, xix-xxv, xxix-xxxiii. 48. The influence of Torquemada’s teaching on Catholic thinking, which was still strongly felt during the fifth Lateran Council (1516), was later carried forward by men like Bellarmine and rose to great heights during the 19th century, when the Vatican Council (1869-1870) elevated the doctrine of papal infallibility to the status of a dogma. For the controversy that evolved around this issue (since 1867), and often around T.’s specific views, see especially the works ofJ.J. Dollinger et al (Janus, The Pope and the Council, 1869), who opposed the doctrine, and J. Hergenrother {Anti-Janus, 1870), who defended it. See also K. Binder, Konzilsgedanken bei Kardinal Juan de Torquemada, pp. 212—240. 49. See Torquemada’s Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas (cited below as Tractatus), p. 42: Vidimus ante nos et legimus processum quemdam Toleti factum per quosdam impios homines qui capita fationum et iniquitatum Tolled comisarum fuere, quemadmodum scilicet domino nostro

Nicholao Pape quinto per quemdam eorum collegam cum certis litteris ad curiam romanam demandarunt. 50. Ibid., p. 45; . . . prout tarn ex regie magestatis litteris quam ex aliorum fide dignorum relationibus intelligere potuimus. 51. See above, pp. 331—332. 52. See Tractatus, pp. 42-43. 53. Claros Varones de Castilla, ed. J. . Dominguez Bordona, 1954, p. 108. 54. Juan de la Cruz, Coronica dela Orden de Predicadores, Lisbon, I, 1567, i88v. 55. See Antonius Senensis, Bibliotheca ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum, Paris, 1585, p. 148. 56. Historia General de Santo Domingo y de su orden de predicadores, Primera Pane, Valencia, 1587, lib. iii, cap. 32, p. 488b. 57. Ibid., ibid.-, and cf. above, n. 9. 58. Ibid., ibid. 59. Ibid., ibid. 60. Balthazar Porreno, Elogios de los Papas y Cardenales que ha temdo la Nacion Espanola, Ms. in Cod. Biblioth. Vaticanae Barber, lat. 3571, saec. xvii, fol. 8jr—87v. He writes: “Hernando del Pulgar en el libro de los illustros varones dice que era Iudio en venganca de ciena pesadumbre que tuvo con un pariente del dicho Cardenal, pero mintio.” It is likely that by the “Cardinal’s relative” Porreno meant Tomas de Torque¬ mada, the chief Inquisitor. He adds: “The cardinal is defended against Pulgar’s assertion by Hernando del Castillo, Antonius Possevinus in his Apparatus Sacer, II, by the Sienese [Antonius Senensis] and others.” Pulgar’s statement on Torque¬ mada’s Jewish origin has led cer¬ tain scholars (among them Henry C. Lea, History of the Inquisition of Spain, I, p. 120) to conclude that his nephew, Tomas de Torquemada, the Inquisitor General, was likewise a New Christian. This, however,

I2JO ]

61. 62. 63. 64.

NOTES

remains unproven. Tomas’ father was doubtless Juan de Torquemada’s brother and, like Juan, the son of Alvar Fernandez, but not necessarily of the same mother. Zurita, in any case, was sure that Tomas de Torquemada was “de limpio y noble linaje” (see Anales de la Corona de Aragon, lib. XX, cap. 49). Tomas’ exclusion from the convent he had founded in Avila of “anyone descended, directly or indirectly, from Jews” (see Lea, op. cit., II, p. 286), reflecting a racism unnatural for conversos, likewise suggests an Old Christian origin. See “El Memorial contra los Con¬ versos,” in Sefarad\ XVII, p. 325. See Lopez Martinez, Los Judaizantes Castellanos, pp. 389—390. Ibid., p. 389. Ibid., ibid.

65. Torquemada, Tractatus, p. 39. The full title given at the opening of the work in ms. Vat. lat. 2580 is: Tractatus contra Madiamtas et Hysmaelitas adversarios et detractores filiorum que de populo Israelitico originem traxerunt. On the original title and the change it may have undergone, see below, n. 81. 66. See below, Appendix F. 67. Ibid., p. 41. The translation is according to the Vulgate which Torquemada used as his biblical source. 68. Ibid., ibid. 69. Ibid., ibid. 70. See Psalms 83.7. 71. Tractatus, p. 41. 72. Ibid., ibid. 73. Ibid., p. 42; Psalms 76.2. 74. According to Torquemada, a fidelis Christi is signified especially by two beliefs: (a) in God and (b) in the mystery of the incarnation. See Torquemada’s Summa de Ecclesia, lib. I, cap. 19, f. 1. 75- Mid., p. 42. The printed text has here by mistake conversatio instead of conversio. 76. Ibid., ibid. A similar thought is ex¬

77. 78. 79. 80.

(pages 433-443)

pressed in the opening of Nicholas V’s bull Humanigeneris. See Benito Ruano, Toledo, etc., p. 198. Tractatus, p. 42. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid.

81. Ibid., p. 43. From this point on to the end of the treatise the term Idumaei used before (pp. 41, 42) is replaced by Madianitae. It is obvious that Tor¬ quemada preferred to relate his denigrating epithets to the Midianites (who were also known enemies of the Israelites) rather than to the Idumeans, whom the Jews identified with Rome and Christianity. We may assume, however, that the original title of the work was: Tractatus contra Idumaeos et Ismaelitas. 82. Ibid., pp. 45—46. 83. This is according to the Vulgate (Deut. 1.13): Date ex vobis viros sapientes et gnaros, et quorum conversatio sit probata in tribubus vestris. 84. Ibid., p. 46: nec quid sit fides canonica, nec quando quis hereticus veniat iudicandus, adhuc plene noverunt. 85. Ibid., p. 47: celeritas sit inimica iudicii. See Cicero, Pro domo sua ad pontifices, in Ouvres completes, ed. Nisard, II, 1852, р. 727. 86. According to the Vulgate: causam quam nesciebam, diligentissime investigabam. 87. Gregory, Moralium libri XXXV, lib. 19, с. 25, 46 (Morals on the Book of Job, Library of Fathers, v. 27, p. 434). 88. Tractatus, p. 47; Pope Eusebius, Ep. II ad episcopos Thusciae, ML 7, mo. 89. Tractatus, p. 48. 90. Augustine, Sermon 351,10; ML 39,1546; C. I. Ca., I, Decretum, C. II, q. 1, c. 1; Constantinus, ibid., C. II, q. 1, c. 2. 91. Tractatus, p. 48. 92. Ibid., p. 50; cf. Augustine, De Trinitate, c. 3, n. 5-6; ML 42, 823. 93. Tractatus, p. 50; cum nullus illorum convictus fuerit, aut sponte confessus, aut pertinax in aliquo errore repertus,

(pages 444-455)

94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101.

NOTES

non poterant dicere cum vertitate quod essent heretici. And cf. above, n. 89. Ibid., p. 48. Ibid., ibid. See above, pp. 377, 375. Tract at us, p. 48. Psalms 5.10; Jeremiah 9.2, 7. Psalms _5-.11: Judica illos, Deus. Tractatus, p. 48: nullus convictus de heresi aut quocumque errore. Ibid., p. 47.

102. Ibid., p. 51: impietatis et malignitatis consilio. 103. Psalms 83.4. 104. Tractatus, p. 71. 107. Psalms 83.4. 106. Tractatus, p. 71. 107. Ibid., p. 72. 108. Ibid., ibid. Cf. Esther 13.17 (according to the broadened version of Esther in the Vulgate). Torquemada spells out more clearly what was indicated by the Relator in designating Marcos Garda as Haman (cf. below, p. 613). His judgment is fully confirmed by Garda’s own words in the “Memo¬ rial,” see below, pp. 701-704. 109. Ibid., p. 73: “qui malus est, vel de generatione mala vel dampnata, semper presumitur quod sit malus et dampnatus de ilia specie mali super que fuit pronunciatus sive dampnatus malus, quousque transeat quarta generation no. Ibid., pp. 73-74. in. Ibid., p. 73. 112. See Decretalium VI, lib. V, tit. xii: De regulis iuris, reg. viii. 113. Tractatus, p. 73. The reference is to the Gloss of Joannes Andreae, see ibid., n. 64. 114. Ibid., ibid. 117. Ibid., pp. 73-74. 116. Wisdom of Solomon, 12.10. 117. Tractatus, p. 74. 118. The reference is to Wladislaw II, formerly Jagiello, Grand Duke of Lithuania, who became King of

[ 1 2 51

Poland in 1386, and on that occasion was converted to Christianity. His son was Casimir IV who ascended the throne in 1447. 119. The Bosnian King Stephanus Thomas was converted to Catholicism in 1447. Years later (in 1460) Torquemada wrote a tract against Bosnian Bogomilism. See his Symbolum pro imformatione Manichaeorum. ed. N. ' Lopez Martinez and V. Proano Gil, 1978, p. 23, n. 68. 120. Tractatus, pp. 74—77. 121. Ezekiel, 18.20. 122. Cf. the Relator’s “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 371; and see above, p. 414. 123. Ibid., p. 77. Augustine, On the Good of Marriage, in Library of Fathers, vol. 22, p. 293. 124. Tractatus, p. 76. Chrysostom, The Homilies on the Gospel of St. Matthew, homily III, 7 (Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers, v. X, 1888, p. 17). 127. Ibid., p. 16. 126. Chrysostom, In Mattheam homilia III, C. 3, MG 77, 34 and 36; and see Tractatus, pp. 77-76. 127. Ibid., p. 76. 128. Ibid., pp. 76-77. 129. Ibid., p. 76. 130. Actually, Pseudo-Ambrosius, Lib. de sacramentis, c. 4, n. 12 (ML 16, 421); see Tractatus, p. 78. 131. The words quoted are likewise from Pseudo-Ambrosius, loc. cit. above, n. 128. 132. Ezekiel 36.27; Tractatus, p. 78. 133. Ibid., ibid. 134. Ibid., ibid. 137. Ibid., ibid. 136. Decret. Gregorii IX, lib. Ill, t. 42, c. 3. 137. Jerome, Epistle 130.9 (Letters and Select Works, transl. by W. H. Fremantle, 1892, p. 266a). 138. Which read: “But if the wicked turn from all his sins . . . and keep all my statutes ... he shall surely live . . . None of his transgressions ... shall be remembered against him.”

I2J2 ]

NOTES

139. Tractatus, p. 59. 140. Ibid., p. 77. 141. Four chapters are devoted to the first proposition (3—6), five to the second (7-11), while another chapter (12) summarizes the conclusions arrived at in all the nine chapters mentioned. 142. Tractatus, p. 61. 143. Ibid., pp. 61-62; cf. Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmis, 78.2 (ML 36, 1010); cf. Expositions on the Book of Psalms, IV, Library of Fathers, vol. 32, 1850, p. 84. 144. Expositions on Psalms, 79.2; Tractatus, p. 62. 147. Psalms 94.14. 146. Augustine, Expositions on Psalms, 79.2. 147. Tractatus, pp. 62—63. 148. Expositions on Psalms, 79.2. 149. Ibid., ibid. 150. Ibid., ibid: Ista igitur electio, istae reliquiae, ista plebs Dei quam non repulit Deus, hereditas eius dicitur. 171. Expositions on Psalms, 94.7. Torquemada passes in complete silence over this passage of Augustine, too. It is possible, moreover, that it was because of this passage, containing so disparaging an assessment of the Jews, that Torquemada, while trying to lean on Augustine, preferred the Saint’s comment on Psalms 78.2 to that on Psalms 94.7. Both comments, however, follow the same line of argument and demonstration. 152. See below, appendix D (1). 173. Tractatus, p. 73. 154. See de Lyra on Micah 4.6-7 (on Colligam etc.); and see Jerome, Commentariorum in Michaeam lib. /, cap. IV, 478 (ML 25, 1188-1189). 177. Tractatus, p. 73. 176. De Lyra on Micah 4.6, second interpretation on Congregabo and his first comment on et earn quam eieceram and also on Et ponam. 177. Tractatus, p. 73. 178. See above, pp. 463, 466. 179. See above, pp. 467, 467.

{pages 456-478)

160. 161. 162. 163. 164.

See Tractatus, pp. 79, 83. 87, 87. Ibid., p. 89. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 90. Ibid., ibid.; Ordinary Gloss and Nicholas de Lyra on Titus 1.10. 167. Tractatus, pp. 90-91. 166. Ibid., p. 91. 167. Ibid., ibid; Hebrews XI.32. 168. Tractatus, p. 91. 169. Ibid., p. 92. 170. Ibid., ibid. 171. Ibid., p. 93. 172. Ibid., ibid. 173. Ibid., pp. 93-94. 174. Ibid., pp. 67-69. 177. Ibid., p. 68. 176. Ibid., ibid. 177. Ibid., p. 69. 178. Ibid., p. 67. 179. Ibid. 180. Luke 2.27-32, 36-38; Tractatus, p. 76. 181. Ibid., pp. 77-78; p. 77: omnes de genere iudeorum elegit. 182. Ibid., p. 78. 183. Ibid., pp. 99-129. 184. Ibid., p. 99. 187. Ibid., p. 100; de Lyra on Romans XI.7. 186. Thomas Aquinas, Expositio in Omnes Sancti Pauli Epistulas, Rom. XI, lectio I, ed. Vives, 1889, p. 737. 187. Glossa Ordinaria on Romans XI.6. 188. Referring perhaps to the destruction of the Second Temple; but Thomas’ text, in Vives’ edition, has here illo (that) instead of alio (the other), and thus we may have here, in either case, a printer’s or a copyist’s error. 189. Here Torquemada’s printed text has, instead of gratuitatem (as in the Vives’ ed. of Aquinas), gratuitam, which seems to have been the correct version. 190. See Thomas Aquinas, op. cit., above, n. 186, p. 737. 191. Tractatus, p. 100, according to de Lyra on Romans XI.3 (on et ego relictus sum solus)-, quia prophetyae Spiritus non semper tangit corda prophetarum etc.

{pages 478-487)

192.

193. 194. 195. 196. 197.

198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210.

NOTES

The word prophetyae was added by Torquemada. Tractatus, p. 101. Glossa Interlinearis on Romans XI.11-12: diminutio eorum—pauci eorum qui conversis fuerunt, scilicet apostoli, divide sunt gentium. Romans, XI.12. Tractatus, p. 101. Romans, Xl.iy. Tractatus, p. 102; de Lyra on Romans XI. 15. Thomas Aquinas, Commentarii in Epistolam ad Romanos, c. 11, lectio 2, ed. Vives, pp. 538a and 539a; gentiles sunt fideles qui tepescent. Ibid., ibid. Tractatus, p. 102. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 103. Ibid., ibid.; Glossa Ordinaria and Nicholas de Lyra on Romans XI. 16. Tractatus, p. 103; Glossa Ordinaria on Romans XI. 16. Tractatus, p. 103. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Tractatus, p. 104. Ibid., p. ioy. See Marcos Garda’s “Memorial,” loc.

cit., p. 334. 211. These explanatory words were added by Torquemada, see Tractatus, p. 10 6. 111. Romans XI. 25-26; see the Interlinear and Ordinary Glosses on Isaiah 59.20. 213. Tractatus, p. 106. 214. Ibid., ibid. The “Memorial” 1. Some half a dozen manuscripts of the “Memorial” are extant in various Spanish archives and one in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris dating from 1567, which is probably the oldest. It was published by Eloy Benito Ruano in Sefarad, XVII (1957), pp. 314—351 (with a brief introduction and a few notes),

[ 125 3

and republished in his collection of articles on the conversos, entitled Los Origines del Problema Converso, 1976, pp. 103-132. For the passage missing in the printed text, see my article, “Did the Toledans in 1449 Rely on a Real Royal Privilege?” {Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research, XLIV [1977], pp. 102-105). And see also below, n. 13, for what seems to be sufficient •indication that the Memorial was written, at least partly, in response to the Relator’s Instruction to Barrientos. 2. That the Sentencia was examined by the city’s letrados (experts in ecclesiastic and civil law) is stated explicitly in its preface. See Martin Gamero, Historia de Toledo, p. 1037; and cf. my article, mentioned above, n. 1 {loc. cit., p. 107, n. 26). 3. On the differences between the Petition and the Sentencia in the severity of their attacks upon the conversos, see above, p. 383. On the more reserved stand taken by the Sentencia as compared with that of the “Memorial,” see my abovementioned study in PAAJR, XLIV (i977). PP- n5~u64. As suggested by E. Benito Ruano, “El Memorial contra los conversos del bachiller Marcos Garcia de Mora,” in Sefarad, XVII (1957), p. 318. 5. See, for instance, above, pp. 1215, n. 41; 281-282. 6. Even though the Instruction of the Relator and the Pope’s bulls, in the original and in translation, were received by Barrientos at the same time (see on this above, p. 393), we must assume that it took several weeks before all these papers were prepared by the Relator and their contents became known to the rebels. This does not make it very likely that the writing of the “Memorial” began before November, or was completed before the end of that month. And see on this above, ibid. 7. See “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 340-343.

1

254 ]

(pages 488-491)

NOTES

8. See ibid., p. 321. 9. Ibid., ibid. 10. Ibid., ibid.: the “cruelties and inhu¬ manities” committed by Alvaro de Luna were, says Garcia, “causadas, promovidas e incitadas” by the conversos. 11. Ibid., pp. 322, 323, 326, 335, 339, 346, and elsewhere. Regarding the name Hamomo see above, p. 1240, n. 4. 12. Ibid., p. 322. In all probability, the sharp denunciation of the Relator in this and other places of the “Memorial” (see especially ibid., pp. 346, 349) came in reply to the biting criticisms which the Relator uttered against Garcia in his Instruction (see loc. cit., pp. 344, 348, 354, 355). Also Garcia’s attempt to present himself as a nobleman and “son of an honored man and a civic hidalgo” (“Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 346) was made in reaction to the Relator’s description of Garcia as a man who belonged to the rustic class (of “villano linage de la Aldea de Mafarambros, donde es su naturaleza” (“Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 354). Attesting this is Garcia’s own state¬ ment (“Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 344): porque el dicho Mose Hamomo se trabajo de me deshonrrar e de menguar mi fama e honrra (because the said Mose Hamomo made an effort to dishonor me and besmirch my reputation and honor), he, Garcia, had no choice but to speak of his own merits. For this purpose he went into a discussion of the three existent kinds of nobility, concluding that he owned at least two of them, while the Relator possessed none {ibid., pp. 345—347). 13. Ibid., p. 321. 14. Ibid., ibid. 15. Ibid., p. 322. The correct version should have been “treinta anos,” and thus we find it in the Petition {Halconero, p. 521): .. como a treinta anos y mas tiempo” (and cf. Cronica de Juan II, p. 664b).

16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

Similarly corrupt is the preceding statement in the “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 321: “de quatro anos de esta parte.” The copyist of ms. 9-5849 of the Academia de la Historia, Madrid, tried to correct this error by replacing “quatro” with “sesenta” (f. 25ov), no doubt bearing in mind the year 1391, in which he saw the beginning of converso influence in Spain, but considering the period of Alvaro’s rule, the change is obviously unacceptable. The Salamanca ms. 455 has in both places: quarenta anos, and this is probably what Garda wrote in the heat of his exaggerative censures. This phrasing, like other indications, shows that the manuscript was not checked and never made ready for formal use. Ibid., pp. 322—323. Ibid., p. 323. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 320. Ibid., p. 331. Ibid., p. 336. The phrase appears not in Psalms, but in Deut. 32-20, and its correct translation is probably: an unruly generation. Garda, however, followed the translation of the Vulgate, which says here: generatio perversa est. To this formulation Garda added: adulteros; and this is not a mistranslation of infideles filii, Deut. 32.10), for Garcia included among the derogatory titles also fixos infieles (p.

336)’ 22. Ibid., p. 335: 'am to'ey levav (a people of an errant heart) is rendered by the Vulgate: semper hi errant corde. Garcia translated it: siempre me erraron en su corazon, which means: they have always missed God in their think¬ ing, or: could never attain the true knowledge of God, or the under¬ standing of His will. 23. Ibid., pp. 333-334. The confusion of Titus, Paul’s disciple, with Titus the Emperor and conqueror of Jerusalem is only one of several indications of

(pages 491-493)

24. 25.

26.

27.

NOTES

Garcia’s poor historical knowledge and ignorance of Christian biblical exegesis (cf. above, n. 21, and below, notes 37 and 95a). But this is rather incidental. Of significance is his reference to Titus as the “avenger of Christ’s blood,” for it not only reflects the traditional Christian view of the Deicide as the cause of Jerusalem’s destruction, but also the view that the true followers of Christ should keep avenging the “injuries” done Him. This is a recurring theme in the Memorial (see ibid., pp. 322 and 341), and it shows that the same religious agitation launched against Jews in times of pogroms was now directed against the Marranos as if they were not Christians at all. Thus, while charges of quite a new kind were henceforth employed against the conversos, they combined with, but did not replace the old ones. It was no doubt the blend of all these arguments that gave the campaign against the New Christians its special effect¬ iveness and force. And see further on this below, p. 983. “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 333-334. Such are the attributes “vindictive,” “adulterous,” “arrogant,” “vainglori¬ ous,” and “trained in all evil arts” {ibid., p. 334); and cf. Titus 1. 5-16. The strictly moral censures found in Paul’s invectives (Titus 1.12), are directed not against the Jews of Crete, but against the Cretan gentiles, including their converts to Chris¬ tianity, and the “prophet” he cites there as witness for those censures was the Greek poet Epimenides, as indicated by both Augustine (see Glossa Ordinaria on Titus 1.12) and Jerome (see his Commentaria in Epistolam ad Titum, ML 26, pp. 571-573). Juan de Torquemada, as we have seen, bluntly labels that “addition” (which was doubtless found also in the summary of the pesquisa) one of the

[ l2SS gross falsifications of the Toledans, designed to crown their racial theory with the authority of the Apostle. See above, p 472.

28. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 320. Gar¬ cia’s designation of the synagogue as a “congregation of beasts” ech¬ oes Chrysostom’s reference to the Synagogue as “a lodging for wild beasts” (see his Discourses against Judaizing Christians, Discourse I, cap. 3, transl. P. W. Harkins, pp. 10-11). 29. “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 320-321. 30. Ibid., p. 321. 31. Ibid. 32. See ibid., 95, 9—10. 33. Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmis, 94.10. The expression “forty years” in verse 10 is taken by Augustine as a mystical allusion to the “totality of time” (iste numerus indicat integritatem saeculorum), equaling in meaning the word “always,” which appears in the Vulgate’s translation of the phrase: “a people of an errant heart” {semper isti errant corde, ibid., 94.10). What it indicates, according to Augustine, is that this people has always exacerbated God (ibid., ibid.). 34. Ibid., on Psalms 94.11. 35. Ibid., ibid. 36. See Cassiodorus, Expositio in Psalterium, who follows closely in Augustine’s footsteps and explains the Jews’ failure to enter “His rest” as the “eternal death” that awaits those who non meruerunt ad satisfactionis ejus munera pervenire {ibid., on Psalms 94.11; ML 70, p. 675). 37. It is questionable, of course, whether the influence referred to was a direct one. So close at this point is Garcia’s view to Augustine’s that it is difficult to see why, in presenting it, Garcia failed to mention the Saint’s name, or cite from his words such statements about the Jews as genus tale hominum quod me semper exacerbat usque in finem saeculi {ibid., 94.10), which could have

1256 ]

38. 39. 40.

41.

NOTES

greatly bolstered his case. We are inclined, therefore, to believe that he drew his theory of condemnation not directly from its original authors, but from others (perhaps contemporary preachers) who summarized it in their own manner. His inadequate knowledge of biblical literature, evi¬ denced by his other references to the Bible (which are usually erroneous or inaccurate; cf. above, n. 21 and below, n. 88), likewise supports this conclusion. Augustine, Enarrationes, 94, verse 11. Augustine, Sermones, 7.2 (ML 38, 63) and especially Sermo 122.5 (ML 38, 683). See his Postillae on Psalms 94, where christological and literal interpreta¬ tions go hand in hand. Thus de Lyra ex¬ plained the term “My rest” as the “Land of Promise,” i.e., the Land of Is¬ rael (see his comments on verses 8 and 11), but added that David (i.e., the author of the Psalm) also signified by that term the “land of the living, which is the peace of the blessed” (see his comment at the conclusion of the chapter). “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 336; and cf. the Relator’s Instruction, loc. cit., pp. 343-344-

42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

“Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 336. Instruction, loc. cit., pp. 349—350. “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 336-337. Ibid., p. 336. See above, pp. 361-362. See on all this below, p. 1140. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 337. Ibid., ibid.: “. . . acocearonlos y truxeronlos y traenlos debaxo de los pies como a enemigos de la ley y verdadera fee de Jusuchristo y como enemigos de los dichos Reynos, espeyial de esta ciudad.” “Y traenlos” (in the opening part of the sentence) is no doubt a relic from the original formulation which the scribe changed from the present to the past tense; ms. Salamanca 455, f. 230 reads here: Y acoceanlos y traenlos por los pies.

(pages 493-500)

50. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 321. By this statement he no doubt intended to explain the appearance of the Apostles who came from the Jews and a few other “exceptions.” 51. Ibid., p. 334. 52. Ibid., p. 331: e fueron fallados judaiyar e guardar todas las ceremonias judaicas. 53. 54. 55. 56.

57. 58. 59.

60.

61.

62.

See above, p. 317. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 330. Ibid., pp. 330-331. See ibid., pp. 330 and 332: a los que dellos fincaron vibos sin ser asaetados e enforcados. Also according to the Cronicon de Valladolid for the year 1449 (see CODOIN, XIII, pp. 18-19), Juan de la Cibdad was hanged after he had died from an arrow shot (despues de meurto de una saeta). And cf. the Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna, ed. Carriazo, p. 244, which likewise says that the said Juan was hanged after he had died. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 331. Ibid., the reference is to Hostiensis; see below, n. 70. See on this whole development in E. Vacandard, The Inquisition, 1918 (transl. by B. L. Conway), pp. 75-83. Ibid., pp. 76, 79: “In as much as repentent heretics were imprisoned for life [by the Church authorities themselves], it seems certain that the severer penalty served for obstinate heretics [who were delivered to the secular arm] must have been the death penalty at the stake.” We refer here to the edicts issued by Emperor Frederick II, the foremost lay ruler in Christendom, from 1220 to 1239; to the laws and practices of the City of Rome (the seat of the Popes) since 1231, and those followed by other towns and cities in Italy (such as Milan, 1233) and France. See on this H. Ch. Lea, A History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages, 1,1958, pp. 321-326, and Vacandard, op. cit., 78-83. See ibid., especially pp. 77-81.

(pages 500-503)

NOTES

947). PP531—553; Pascual de Gayangos, “Mossen Diego de Valera” in Revista Espanola de Ambos Mundos, III

4.

5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12.

{pages 578-580) (1855), pp. 294-312. On Valera’s essays see J. A. de Balenchana’s introduction to Epistolas y otros varios tratados de Mosen Diego de Valera, 1878; Carriazo, introd. to Valera’s Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, pp. lxxix-lxxxix and xc-xcix; Gino de Solemni, in Romanic Review, XVI (1962), pp. 87-88. On his poetry, see Menendez y Pelayo, Historia de la Poesia castellana en la Edad Media, II, 1914, pp. 225-242; Puymaigre, La cour litteraire de Don Juan II, 1973,1, p. 208; II, pp. 198-204. On his historical works, see (in addition to Carriazo) Julio Puyol, “Los Cronistas de Enrique IV,” in Boletin de la Acad, de la Historia, Madrid, 1921 (79), pp. 118-126; G. Cirot, les histoires generales dEspagne entre Alphonse X et Philippe //, 1904, pp. 40—44; id., “Les decades d’Alfonso de Palencia, etc.,” in Bulletin Hispanique, xi (1909), pp. 425-442; Antonio Paz y Melia, El cronista Alonso de Palencia, 1914, xxxix-xliv, lxxi-lxxxi, 428-469; idem, Series de los mas importantes documentos del archivo y biblioteca del . . . Duque de Medinaceli, 1915, pp. 44, 72—74, 78, 82. N. Antonio, Bibliotheca Hispana Vetus, II, lib. X, cap. 13, §§ 708 ff; B. J. Gallardo, Ensayo de una Biblioteca Espaiiola, IV, 1889, pp. 870-875. See ibid., p. 173,176; and see Bartolus, De dignitatibus, in his Commentaria Codicis, lib. XII, tit. 1, §§ 24-29; cf. Cartagena, above., pp. 562-563. Epistolas, p. 219. Ibid., p. 185; see Innocent III, De contemptu mundi, lib. 1, cap. 17 (PL, 217, 709): Natura liberos genuit, sed fortuna servos constituit. Epistolas, p. 185. Ibid., pp. 179, 183. Ibid., pp. 180, 194. Ibid., pp. 213—214; Valera, however, indicates the different customs that prevail in this respect in central and western Europe (see ibid., p. 214). Ibid., pp. 212-213. Ibid., p. 211.

(pages 580-588)

NOTES

13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

Ibid., p. 208. Ibid., pp. 211-212. Ibid., pp. 209-210. Ibid., p. 208. His reference at this point to Jesus’ lineage as “the noblest” (nuestro Redenptor.... este linaje escogio para sy por el mas noble) must be related to his basic concept that “nobler,” when applied to a national entity, simply means “better” in the religious sense (see ibid., p. 208). 18. The same argument, somewhat modified and amplified, was used by Valera also seven years later (in 1458), in response to a sermon delivered in Cuenca by a certain friar and master of theology (Serrano), who disputed the right of the New Christians to join the Spanish nobility. In rebutting the friar’s racial assertions which caused the conversos much “injury and opprobrium,” Valera pointed out, among other things, that the “kings of the Goths, who sprang from the tribe of Dan,” were the forebears of the “illustrious kings” of Spain, and that the English delegation at the Council of Basle demanded to be seated before the Castilian on the ground that England’s Kings drew their origin from Joseph of Arimathaea. “It would certainly take me a long time,” said Valera, “to offer an account of all the princes and lords who descended from the Jewish stock” (see ms. of the Library of the University of Sala¬

manca, no. 455, f. 68r). 19. Epistolas, p. 209. 20. Ibid., ibid. In further explanation of this regeneration, Valera compares the converts who regain their capacities for nobility to “those who come out from captivity and recover the liberty which they had lost” (ibid.). It is almost certain that we have here a summary of Cartagena’s elaborate discussion of this point (see above, p. y68), although Valera does not employ Cartagena’s

[ 1267

proofs, including the example of the Roman law of postliminium (see Defensorium, pp. 219-220). 21. Epistolas, p. 210. 22. Ibid., pp. 210-211.

The Political Views of the Toledan Rebels I. See above, p. 321. • 2. See his Les Controverses des statuts de purete de sang en Espagne du xif au xvif siecle, i960, p. 36. 3. Benito Ruano, Toledo en el siglo xv, p. VJ4. See his article “La rebelion toledana de 1449”, in Archivum (Oviedo), XVI (1966), p. 405. 5. Ibid., p. 411. 6. Ibid., pp. 413-414. 7. Ibid., p. 414. 8. See above, p. 311. 9. Cronica del Halconero, cap. 375, p. yio; Cronica de Juan II, ano 1449, cap. 5, p. 663b; and other places. 10. Ibid., ibid., p. 664a. II. See my article, “Did the Toledans in 1449 Rely on a Real Royal Privilege?”, in PAAJR, XLIV (1977), especially, pp. 106—no. 12. See “El Memorial contra los conversos del bachiller Marcos Garcia de Mora,” in Sefarad, XVII, p. 320. 13. Ibid., ibid.: a quien, segun Dios, Ley, ra9on e derecho pertenes9e la administra9ion de los Reynos e Senorios de Castilla e de Leon. 14. The words we added in brackets suggest Garcia’s implied thought, especially as indicated in the words we italicized in the following sentence. 15. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 339. 16. This was essentially also the position of the mutinous nobles as expressed in their statements of 1425 and 1440 (cited above, pp. 239, 251), and it lay at the basis of their justification of their various conspiracies and uprisings against the King. If such statements

1268 ]

NOTES

(pages 588-597)

30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

Ibid., I, 1.13. Partidas, II, tit. II, laws 2, 4; tit. V, law 8. Especulo, I, 1.9; Partidas, I, tit. i, law 16. Ibid., I. tit. i, laws 17, 19. Cortes de los antiguous reinos de Leony de Castilla, 1,1861, p. 542 (cap. 64); III, 1866,

indicate anti-monarchism, those no¬ bles, too, should have been opposed to kingly rule as a form of government. And this is palpably absurd. Among the utterers of the above criticisms against Juan II of Castile were Alfonso V King of Naples and Juan I King of Navarre. 17. Sefarad, xvii, p. 322. 18. This is stressed by Marcos Garcia in his “Memorial” as it is in the rebels’ Petition. See Halconero, pp. 524-526, and “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 341: “vos senor diste[i]s la corona que Jesuchristo vos dio por vuestra noble£a e virtudes al dicho malo tirano.” And see, ibid., p. 338: “.. . ca por esta causa saldra el dicho Rey de la seruidumbre en que a estado y esta ... por el tirano poderio del dicho don Aluaro de Luna.” 19. Ibid., p. 341. 20. Ibid., p. 338; cf. also 328. 21. Ibid., p. 341: en otra manera, necessario es usar de todos los remedios defensorios. 22. For the origin of this view in the writings of the Church Fathers (from the 4th century on) and its reemergence in the medieval West (in the 9th century), see A. J. Carlyle, A History of Mediaeval Political Theory in the West, I, pp. i49ff, 215-216; II, pp. 61-63; PP- 47-48- See also Bracton, De legibus et consuetudinibus Angliae, I, 1.2; III, 9.3. For expressions of the same conception in Spain, see Especulo, 1,1.3; Partidas, II, 1.5, 1.7. 23. See Bracton, op. cit., I, 8.5; and cf. A. J. Carlyle, op. cit., I, pp. 230-239; III, p. 38. 24. Partidas, I, 1.19; Especulo, introduction (see Opusculos Legales, published by the Academia de la Historia, Madrid, 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

1836, p. 2). Carlyle, op. cit., Ill, pp. 56-58. Partidas, II, tit. I, law 5. Ibid., ibid., tit. I, law 7. Ibid., ibid. Especulo, I, 1.3.

p. 491. 35. Carlyle, op. cit., VI, p. 5; Cortes de Leon y de Castilla. II, xxviii, pp. 371-372, Tercero Tractado, § 9. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41.

Ibid., Ill, 9. 19 (p. iii). Ibid., Ill, 15. 14 (p. 391). Ibid., Ill, 16.11 (pp. 406-407). Ibid., ibid. See above, p: 294. Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, III, XVIII,

p. 458. 42. The ordenamiento given in reply to this petition was issued by Fernan Diaz de Toledo (see Cortes de Leony de Castilla, III, p. 494) and bears the marks of his peculiar style. 43. Ibid., Ill, p. 483. 44. Ibid., Ill, p. 492. 45. Carlyle, op. cit., VI, p. 188. 46. This is evident from the 63 petitions submitted by the Cortes of Valladolid (1447), of which more than half spoke bluntly and obtrusively against the failures and abuses of the royal administration. See Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, III, pp. 495-575; and cf. Manuel Colmeiro’s Introduction to the above proceedings, I, 1883, pp. 5°5~5'547. “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 323, 327, 338, 339. 343* 344* 345* 346* 347* 34948. See “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 327, 338.

49. 50. 51. 52.

Ibid., p. 339. Ibid., ibid, (danada y reprouada). Ibid., ibid. p. 339. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, 2.2, q. 42, art. 2. 53. Aristotle, Politics, III, 5. 4-5; IV. 8-3; Ethics, VIII, 10. 54. Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, IX. 3. 55. John of Salisbury, Policraticus, IV. 1-4; VIII, 17. 56. Bracton, De legibus Angliae, 5. 8. 5.

(pages 591-604)

NOTES

57. Bartolus, De Tyrannia, in Humanism and Tyranny, ed. Emerton, 1925, p. 132; and see also ibid., pp. 130, 131. 58. Memorial, loc. cit., p. 338. 59. Ibid., ibid. 60. Las Siete Partidas, II, tit. v. law 14. 61. See Aristotle, Ethics, viii, 10; cf. Thomas Aquinas, De regimine principum, lib. iv, cap. 1. 62. Halconero, pp. 257-258 (in the letter addressed to the King by the admiral of Castile Fadrique Enriquez and his brother Pero Manrique, adelantado mayor of Leon, on Feb. 20, 1439. 63. See Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, III, pp. 458-460, 481-485, 491-493. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 339. Ibid., p. 338. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 339. Ibid., p. 341. Ibid., p. 342. See John of Salisbury, Policraticus, IV, caps. 1, 3. and other places. 71. “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 340 and

64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70.

325-

72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77.

Ibid., ibid.; and see also p. 348. Ibid., p. 325. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 341. Ibid., ibid.; and see also pp. 350-351 where he speaks of the possible need of the city to resort to “remedios defensorios” against the Pope as well as the King of Castile. 78. Ibid., p. 350. The appeal to a “future Council” of the Church will be made if the Pope “will refuse to inform himself duly” of the Toledan case. Also earlier he points to the need of a Council when he says that the Pope could gain “full knowledge” of the case after hearing the opinion of the “venerado Concilio” (p. 341). 79. See Aeneas Sylvius’ letter to Pope Nicholas V of Nov. 25, 1448, in L. Pastor, Geschichte der Pdpste, I, 1901, p. 42.

[

1269

80. On the position of Castile toward the Papacy during the Council of Basle, see L. Suarez Fernandez, Castilla, el Cisma y la crisis Conciliar (1378-1440), i960, pp. 115-141. On Aragon’s position in the conflict, see V. Balaguer, Historia de Cataluna, III, 1862, pp. 513-514, 5(9, 523> 52 737—738» 743p. 306. p. 89. p. 91. p. 92. p. 89. p. 761. pp. 699-700.

13 ° ° ]

168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175.

176. 177. 178. 179. 180.

181.

NOTES

Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 707. Ibid., p. 82. Ibid., p. 707. Ibid., p. 705. Ibid., p. 706. Sigiienza, op. cit., I, p. 368a. Related to this is Diaz y Diaz’ remark (Luz, p. 17) that Oropesa’s “entire work” indicates that the. Judaizers were a minority (los menos). Menendez y Pelayo, Historia de los Heterodoxos, II, p. 472. Luz, p. 77. Ibid., p. 585. Sigiienza, op. cit., I, p. 368a. Luz, 101. Americo Castro, who, as he admits, had not read Oropesa’s work, inferred correctly from Sigiienza’s remarks that Oropesa did not censure but defended the conversos (see his Aspectos del vivir Hispdnico, p. 109). From this, however, he wrongly concluded that Oropesa was “surely a converso” {ibid., p. no). Ibid., p. 75. The Chroniclers of Enrique IV

1. See above, pp. 636, 645, 65-jtt. 2. Regarding Sanchez de Arevalo, see his four chapters on Enrique from his Compendiosa Historia Hispdnica, in¬ cluded as appendix in Castillo’s Cronica del Rey Enrique el quarto, ed. J. M. de Flores, 17872, pp. 123-130. For Castillo’s references to the conversos, see above, pp. 742 and 897. Escavias’ discussion of the riots in Andalusia is included in the chapter from his Repertono de Prlncipes de Espaiia, made public by Sitges, op. cit., pp. 405-406. 3. See his Memorial de diversas Hazanas, ed. Carriazo, 1941, pp. 134—135. 4. Ibid., p. 240. 5. Ibid., p. 245; Cronica Castellana, BNM, ms. 1780, f. 131a. 6. See his Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. Carriazo, I, 1927, p. 127. 7. Ibid.; ibid.

(pages 893-901)

8. Ibid. 9. Ibid.; note. 10. Pulgar’s father was a Toledan escribano who must have served—and befriended—one or more of the great nobles for his son to become the King’s page (see Pulgar’s Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. Carriazo, 1943, introd., p. XVII). That Pulgar was a New Christian is apparent, as F. Cantera has pointed out (“Fernando de Pulgar y los Conversos,” Sefarad, IV [1944], PP296-299), from his letter to Cardinal Mendoza, in which he identified himself with the conversos, against whom the people of Guipuzcoa enacted a statute forbidding them to marry their sons and daughters and live in their territory (see Pulgar’s Letras, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, 1949, pp. 137-138)11. Ibid., pp. 63—69. 12. Ibid., pp. 63—64. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Ibid., p. 64; and cf. above, pp. 617,1271 n. 48. Ibid., p. 65-66. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 67.

17. Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, I, pp. 343—351Amador’s suggestion that Manrique, who was an “eloquent orator,” may have been the author of the speech (Historia Critica, VII, p. 338) cannot be upheld. Evidence that Pulgar wrote this address comes from his “Letter to a Friend in Toledo,” which contains the same ideas in the identical language (see above, notes 11—16). This, however, was not an imagined oration of the kind produced by Livy and other classical historians to explain some situation in a remote past. It was a speech attributed to a contemporary of Pulgar and no doubt heard by a large audience. We must conclude therefore that Pulgar composed that speech for Manrique, who followed the chronicler’s line of thought if not his particular phrasing. 18. Ibid.; ibid., p. 347.

(pages 902—905) 19. 10. 21. 22.

NOTES

Ibid., p. 350. Ibid., p. 345. Letras, p. 68. See his introd. to Pulgar’s Crdnica, p. L. The entire letter was first published by Carriazo in the above introd., pp. XLIX-LI. For emendations of the text and further analysis, see Cantera, “Pulgar y los conversos,” loc. cit., pp. 295-310. Carriazo believed that he was the first to have read this letter, which apparently was also the view of Cantera {ibid., p. 302; and cf. Carriazo’s introd. to Pulgar’s Crdnica, pp. LI-LII). Both were obviously unaware that the letter had been published in English translation by Adolfo de Castro in his History of Religious Intolerance in Spain, transl. by A. Parker, 1853, pp. 17-20. The authenticity of the letter cannot be questioned not only because of its style (which is Pulgar’s), but also because of its contents. It stands to reason that Pulgar exaggerated the number ofjudaizers both to show the inquisitors that he respected their claim regarding the scope of the Judaic heresy, and to use this claim as basis for his argument that while cruel punishment could be considered for few, it could not be applied to many—an argument which was countered by his pro-inquisitional critic (see Camera's article mentioned above, loc. cit., p. 317). However, since the letter was obviously tampered with, one may question the authenticity of the words diez mil ninas which appear in the middle of his statement: “there are young maidens between the ages of ten and twenty in Andalusia, ten thousand ninas, who have not left their homes since their birth and never heard or knew any other doctrine save the one they saw enacted by their parents” (see Carriazo, ibid., p. L). The words diez mil ninas disrupt the flow and structure of the sentence; the precise round number of “ten thousand” (without mas or

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

[ n°l hasta) does not agree with Pulgar’s style; nor does the word ninas fit mature young women of eighteen, nineteen or twenty years of age. And why the sec¬ ond description of the girls as ninas af¬ ter he had described them as “young maidens”? These words therefore seem to be interpolated. Pulgar’s original sen¬ tence may have read: There are num¬ erous young maidens in Andalusia etc. Pulgar, Cronica, I, pp. 334-337. Ibid.; ibid., pp. 438-440. Ibid., p. 439. Ibid., II, pp. 210-211. Ibid., pp. 353-354. History of Religious Intolerance in Spain,

p. 17. 29. Transl. A. Paz y Melia, 1904-1908. 30. For Valera’s view of the King see his Memorial, pp. 294-295; for Pulgar’s see his Claros Varones de Castilla, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, 1954, pp. 9-20. Escavias’ description of the King was published by Sitges, see above, p. 1282, n. 8. Resembling these portrayals of Enrique is Sanchez de Arevalo’s “image” of the King (see above n. 2, loc. cit., cap. 39) which, though highly adulatory, is not valueless. 31. Historia de Don Enrique IV de Castilla, 1776, BNM, ms. 1350, f. 328” (cited byj. Torres-Fontes, Estudio sobre la “Crdnica de Enrique IV” del Dr. Gallndez de Carvajal, 1946, p. 29). 32. Un Pleito sucesorio [1945], P- I7133. See Galindez de Carvajal, in BAE, 70, p. 537b; see also L. Pfandl, “Uber Alonso de Palencia,” in ZfRP, LV (1935), p. 35°34. Zuniga, Annales, p. 349E 35. El Cronista Alonso de Palencia, 1914, p. xxxviii. 36. Amador, Historia

Crttica,

VII,

pp.

160-161. 37. R. Ballester, Puentes Narrativas de la Historia de Espana, 1908, p. 175. 38. Menendez y Pelayo, Antologla de los poetas liricos Espanoles, ed. E. Sanchez Reyes, II, 1944, p. 287.; see also what he wrote on Palencia, ibid., II, p. 294.

1 3 0 2 ]

NOTES

(pages 906-919)

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

Ibid., p. 19. Ibid., cf. Palencia, Cronica, III, p. 272. “Los Cronistas,” loc. cit., p. 18. Palencia, Cronica, II, p. 49. Ibid., p. 51. Ibid.; ibid. See above, pp. 779-780. Palencia, Cronica, II, p. 50. Ibid., Ill, p. 108. Ibid., p. 109. Ibid., p. 108. Ibid., p. hi. Ibid., p. 108. Ibid., ibid. See above, p. 741. Paz y Melia (op. cit., p. xxxix) believes that Palencia began to write his Cronica in 1478—i.e., shortly after he had left the Court. It is unlikely, however, that a creative author such as Palencia could have avoided all writing throughout his period of service for the Kings, especially after the threat to their rule had vanished with the defeat of the Portuguese at Toro in 1476.

39. Paz y Melia, op. cit., p. xiii, n. 1. 40. See his Estudio, p. 28. 41. See Castro’s La Realidad historica de Espana, 1966, p. xxii, and his last major work, The Spaniards, 1971, P- 7442. RAH, Bolettn, vols. 78 and 79. 43. Ibid., vol. 79 (1921), pp. 11—12. 44. See Amador, Historia Critica, VII, p. 141 ff.; Antonio M. Fabie, Discursos leidos ante la Real Academia de la Historia, 1875, pp. 5-104; Menendez y Pelayo, Biblioteca de Traductores Espatioles, ed. E. Sanchez Reyes, 1953, IV, pp. 14—27; Tomas Rodriguez, “El cronista Alfonso de Palencia,” in La Ciudad de Dios, XV (1888). 45. Nicolas Antonio, Biblioteca Hispana Fetus, II, 1788, ff. 331-334, 796-810; J. A. Pellicer y Saforcada, Ensayo de una biblioteca de Traductores Espanoles, 1778, pp. 7-23; B. J. Gallardo, Ensayo de una Biblioteca espanola etc., II, 1866, cols. 1004-1010; D. I. Dormer, in his revised work of F. Andres de Uztarroz, Progressos de la Historia en el reyno de Aragon, 1680, pp. 254-255; Diego Clemenrin, Eloqio de la reina Catolica dona Isabel, 1821, p. 67, n. 3. 46. “Los cronistas de Enrique IV,” in RAH, Boletm, 79 (1921), p. 18. 47. Ibid., p. 19. 48. Lev. 19.31; Deut. 18.11. 49. Jer. 10.2. 50. History of Magic and Experimental Science, IV, 1953, PP- 4I3~4*451. “Los Cronistas,” loc. cit., p. 18. Similarly, Sitges charged Palencia with an “eagerness to speak evil of everybody” (Enrique IV y la Excelente Senora, 1912, p. 18). The number of persons Palencia censured, however, was markedly smaller than that of those he praised; and these were overwhelmingly Old Christian. 52. Ibid., ibid.-, cf. Palencia, Cronica, II, p. 43153. Ibid., p. 435; Los Cronistas, loc. cit., pp. 18—19.

70. Palencia, La Guerra de Granada, transl. Paz y Melia, 1909, p. 24. 71. Ibid., Cronica, III, p. 125.

The Catholic Kings 1. 2. 3. 4.

See above, p. 805 and Appendix E. Ibid., p. 1126. Palencia, op. cit., IV, p. 269. See V. Balaguer, Los Reyes Catolicos, I, 1892, pp. 381-382.

5. On the divided attitude of these classes, see below, pp. 1072-1073. 6. Bernaldez, Memorias del reinado de los Reyes Catolicos, 1962, pp. 95-96, 99: el que mas procuro en Sevilla esta Inquisicion; F. X. Garcia Rodrigo, Historia Verdadera de la Inquisicion, 1877, pp. 66-71. 7. Pulgar, Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, (ed. Carriazo), I, p. 342. 8. For Manrique’s speech, see ibid., pp. 343-350; for the main ideas of the speech, see Pulgar’s Letras, ed. J.

{pages 920-950)

NOTES

Dominguez Bordona, 1949, pp. 63-69), and Lope de Barrientos, in his Obras, ed. Getino, op. cit., pp. 194-195; cf. above, p. 617. 9. See the text of the Synod’s resolution

[ 13°3

on this issue, in J. Caro Baroja, Los Judios en la Espafia Moderna y Contemporanea, III, 1961, appendix II, p. 280. 10. Cortes of Toledo, 1480,76 (CLC, IV, p. >49)-

BOOK FOUR

The Origins of the Inquisition The Lesson of the Sources 1. M.

Menendez

Pelayo,

La

Ciencia

espanola, I, 1947, p. 237. 2. The Marrams of Spain, 19732. 3. Ibid., pp. 60-61. 4. Ibid., pp. 10—11; see especially notes 24, 26, 27. Sefer Hamada, Hilkhot teshuvah, y. 6. 7. 8.

I» b 3> 4> 5See my Marrams of Spain, pp. 69—72. Ibid., pp. 66-67 and other places. Ibid., pp. 72-76, 211-215. Isaac Abravanel on Ezekiel 20.32; (Com. on Later Prophets, Jerusalem, 1956, 520a); and see my Marrams of

Spain, p. 184. 9. See above, n. 8, cited text; Comm, on Ezek. 20, 32-37 (ed. 1956, p. 520b); Comm, on Isaiah 43.6 (ed. 1956, p. 206b). 10. See my Marrams of Spain, p. 184. 11. Ibid., pp. 184-185. 12. Arama, Aqedat Yizhaq, V. pp. 149a150b; and see my Marrams of Spain, p. 154, _ 13. Ibid., p. 155, 141-142; and cf.

,A j Aqedat

Yizhaq, V. 163a. 14. See my Marrams of Spain, p. 175. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

Ibid., p. 174. Ibid., p. 201. Ibid., ibid. Lea, History, I, p. 120. Baer, Die Juden, II, pp. 303, 328, 574a (and see index of Old Christian

names). 20. See Baer’s History (Hebrew), p.

537,

n.

21. I refer to the works of Fernan Diaz, Cartagena, Torquemada and Valera which are discussed in the present

study. A fifth Marrano apology from the mid 15th century, authored by Bachiller Palma, is preserved in manuscript in the Biblioteca Capitular of Toledo, of whose date, author and other relevant characteristics we have a fair description by Ramon Gonzalez Ruiz (in Toledo Judaico: Symposio, Toledo, April 1972, II, pp. 31-48). Despite my repeated requests to allow me the examination of this manu¬ script, I was denied this privilege on the grounds that Senor Gonzalez was engaged in the study of the work and its preparation for publication. 22. See my Marrams of Spain, pp. 19-22 and other places. 23. See above, p. 420. 24. On Pedro Regalado see the chapter on him by Antonio Daza in his Excellencias de la Ciudad de Valladolid, 25. See L. G. A. Getino, Vida y obras de Fray Lope de Barrientos, 1927, p. 197. 26. Ibid., p. 201. 27. The Marrams of Spain, pp. 96-121. 28. See ibid., p. 198, n. 139; Pulgar, Cronica, II, p. 210. 29. See above, p. 733. 30. See Lea, Chapters from the Religious History of Spain, 1890, p. 453. 31. See on these coplas K. R. Scholberg, op. cit., pp. 331-338The Social-Economic Reasons 1. See above, pp. 411, 572—5732. See Pulgar’s “Letter to a Toledan Friend,” where he repeatedly attributed

13

°

4

]

NOTES

the hatred for the Marranos to the “greed” (cobdicia) of the lower classes and their “ambition” to rise socially (Letras, ed. Dominguez Bordona, pp. 63-69). More elaborately and em¬ phatically were the same thoughts expressed in Pulgar’s report of the speech which Gomez Manrique, governor of Toledo, addressed to the anti-Marranos in the city. The speech, which bears the stamp of Pulgar’s ideas, was either written or inspired by the chronicler, and then rephrased by Pulgar for his Cronica (see Pulgar, Cronica, ed. Carriazo, I, pp. 343-350); and see above, pp. 901, 1300, n. 17. The 1473 outbreak against the Marranos in Cordova was related by Valera to the Old Christians’ “great jealousy” of the “very rich” New Christians and the former’s resent¬ ment of the conversos’ haughty con¬ duct in the public offices they had acquired with their wealth (see Valera, Memorial, ed. Carriazo, p. 240). Also when speaking of the pogrom in Jaen, he stressed the desire for robbery as its cause and exonerated the Marranos of any blame [ibid., pp. 244-245). 3. Palencia, see above, p. 741. 4. See above, pp. 617, 892. 5. See above, pp. 664-679. 6. See Delgado Merchan, op. cit., p. 419; and see above, pp. 330, 803. 7. Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, III, p. 803. 8. Halconero, p. 522. 9. Gamero, op. cit., p. 1038. 10. Ibid., ibid. n. See Zaccuto, Seferjuchassin, 1857, 224b; and cf. Baer, II, p. 226. 12. In his account for the first year of Enrique Ill’s reign, Ayala refers to the bitter quarrel that broke out between the Duke of Benavente and the Archbishop of Santiago over the Duke’s proposal to appoint Juan Sanchez de Sevilla as the King’s Contador Mayor. The Archbishop

13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

28.

29.

[pages 950-962) opposed the proposal on the ground that Juan Sanchez was engaged in tax-farming, and as tax-farmer his activity should be supervised by the Contador Mayor (Cronica de Enrique III, ano primero, 1391, cap. 7; BAE, vol. 68, p. 168a). Despite the archbishop’s reasonable objection, Juan Sanchez assumed the disputed office, although we do not know precisely at what time. In any case, in 1397 he is officially mentioned as “Contador Mayor” of the King and Treasurer of the Queen (Baer, I, 246). Cronica dejuan II, ano 1419, cap. 1 (BAE, v, 68, p. 377a). See the Relator’s “Instruction,” loc. cit., p. 352. Ibid. See Cronica de jfuan II, ano 1416, cap. x (BAE, 68, p. 372a). Cronica del Halconero, p. 71 (cap. 58). Ibid., ano 1429, cap. xxii (p. 43); CODOIN, 106 (1893), P- n9See above, p. 1281, n. 90. Martin Gamero, op. cit., p. 1037. F. Camera, La Familia Judeo-conversa de los Cota de Toledo, 1969, pp. 16—17. See Francisco Marquez Villanueva, “Conversos y Cargos Concejiles en el siglo xv,” in RABM, lxiii, 2 (1957), p. 508, n. 27. Ibid., p. 507, n.17. See above, p. 776. Bernaldez, op. cit., p. 100 (cap. 44). See Fita (above). Marquez Villanueva, loc. cit., p. 509, n. 30 (on the basis of L. Serrano y Sans, Noticias biograficas de Fernando de Rojas, pp. 252, 266); Marquez, loc, cit., p. 507, n. 20. Delgado Merchan, Historia documentada de Ciudad Real, 1907. pp. 424-425; Marquez Villanueva, loc. cit., pp. 508, 513, n. 44, 517, n. 67. See on him Jose Gomez-Menor, Cristianos Nuevos y Mercaderes de Toledo, 1970, p. xxxiv. Marquez Villanueva, loc. cit., p. 505, n.

{pages 962-977)

NOTES

ii (on the basis of Benito Fernandez Alonso, Los Judios de Oretise, 1904, p. 35)30. See Cronica de Juan II, ano 1421, cap. 19 (p. 405b). 31. “Instruction,” loc. cit., p. 352. 32. Delgado Merchan, op. cit., pp. 246-

249. 33. See above, p. 783. 34. See Marquez Villanueva, loc. cit., p. 533, n- I233$. Ibid-, p- 509, n. 32. 36. Cantera, La Familia de los Cota, 1969, p.

14. 37. Marquez, loc. cit., p. 507, n. 20. 38. Ibid.\ and see F. Pinel y Monroy, Retrato del buen Vas alio, 1677, p. 116. 39. J. de M. Carriazo’ introduction to Valera’s Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, 1927, pp. XLV—LXII. 40. Baer, II, p. 142. 41. Cf. Amador, Historia, III, pp. 62-63 (n-

0

-

42. Baer, I, p. 614. 43. See Manuel Serrano y Sanz, op. cit., pp. lxxix, clxiii, and other loci. 44. See on him M. Kayserling, Christopher Columbus, 1894, p. 26. 45-. See above, pp. 515-516, 828-829. 46. See above, p. 239. 47. See above, p. 346. 48. For the large number of escribanos among the habilitated Judaizers in Toledo in 1495 and 1497, see F. Can¬ tera and P. Leon Tello, Judaizantes del arzobispado de Toledo, 1969, p. xviii. 49. Cantera and Tello, op. cit., p. xix, denoted this industry as “very typical” of the Jews. 50. See J. Vicens Vives, An Economic History of Spain, p. 249. 51. Cortes of Burgos, §11 (CLC, II, p. iyi)52. Cortes of Ocana, 1469, §21 (CLC, III, p. 803). See J. de Mata Carriazo, La Inquicision y las rentas de Sevilla,” in Homenaje a Don Ramon Carande, 1963) 22 tax-farmers (pp. 104—105) and the two

[ 13 °5

mayordomos of the city were likewise conversos (pp. 97-99). 54. See above, p. 311.

The Rise of Racism 1. L. Ranke, Fursten und Volker von Sud-Europa im sechsgehenten und siebzehenten Jahrhundert, I, 18372, p. 246. In characterizing the Spanish people, it . should be noted, Ranke precedes the term “Germanic” to “Romanic,” perhaps to allude at the dominant influence of the Germanic element in the attitude of the Spaniards toward the Jewish “progeny.” He seems to have believed in the basic commonship of the two Spanish races (soon to be called by many “Aryan”) as against that of the alien racial elements—i.e., of “Jewish” and “Moorish” descent (the Spanish “Moors” were considered halfArabic—i.e., racially kindred of Jews). The first edition of Ranke’s book appeared in 1827. 2. See Jose M. Sanchez de Muniain, Antologia General de Menendez Pelayo, I, 1956, p. 62 (letter to Juan Valera of Oct. 17, 1887). 3. Americo Castro, The Spaniards, 1971, p. 67; and earlier, in his Structure of Spanish History, 1954, and other works. 4. Castro, The Structure, p. 531. 5. See my “Americo Castro and his View of the Origins of the Pureza de Sangre',' loc. cit., pp. 397—4576. See above, pp. 562-563, 581; see also p. mo. 7. See the quotations from the Dialogi of Petrus Alphonsi in my study “Alonso de Espina: Was he a New Christian?, in PAAJR, XLIII (1976), pp. 125-126, and some of Baer’s remarks on Avner of Burgos in his History of the Jews in Christian Spain (Hebrew edition), 1959, pp. 206—208, 515—516. 8. See his Scrutinium, p. 512; and Matt. 23.33. 9. See the long list of offensive de¬ scriptions of the Jewish race assembled

1306 ]

NOTES

from Petrus de la Cavalleria’s Tractatus Zelus Christi Contra Iudaeos, Sarracenos et Gentiles by Amador de los Rios, History, III, pp. 108-109. 10. Hieronymus de Sancta Fide, Contra Iudaeos, 1412, pp. 130-193. 11. See his letter to his son Alfonso preceding his Additiones to the Postilla of Nicholas de Lyra, in Biblia, Nuremberg, 1487, and Sanctotis’ introductory Vita to Paul’s Scrutinium Scripturarum, 1591, p. 10. 12. See above, pp. 279-282. 13. See Pulgar, Letras, 1949, p. 64 (todos somos nascidos de una masa e houimos un principio noble), and especially p. 67. 14. Las Siete Partidas, VII, tit. XXIV, 3. 15. See above, p. 3-82. 16. See Juan de Lucena, Libro de Vita Beata, in Opusculos Literarios de los siglos XIV a XVI, ed. A. Paz y Melia, 1892, p. Ij-2.

17. J. Parkes, The Conflict of the Church and the Synagogue, 1961, p. 158. 18. See, for instance, above, pp. 313-316, 849-832. 19. Replying to the critics of his racial statute, Siliceo says that it is right to castigate the nobles who, out of their greed for money and estates (hacienda), pollute their blood by marrying persons of Jewish descent; see ms. 13038 of Bibl. Nacional, Madrid, f. 8iv. 20. These were the classes of the urban population that the Relator no doubt had in mind when he referred to ciudadanos (see below, n. 21). Lower classes were usually indicated as labradores. 21. See his “Instruccion,” republished as appendix II to Alonso de Cartagena’s Defensorium, 1943, P- 354: “hay muchos Linages en Castilla, fijos, e Nietos e Vis-nietos de el linage de Israel, ansi legos, como Clerigos, ansi de el linage de Nobles, corno de Caballeros, e Ciudadanos.” He points out that a

(pages 977-999) similar situation exists in Aragon and in “todas las Espanas;” see ibid., pp.

354-35522. “Instruccion,” loc. (twice).

cit., pp. 343, 347

23. See Carriazo’s introduction to his edition of Pulgar’s Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, 1943, p. LI; F. Cantera, “Fernando de Pulgar y los conversos,” in Sefarad, IV (1944), p. 309. 24. Ibid., p. 319; and cf. Carriazo, op. cit. above, n. 23, p. LV. 23. F. Perez de Guzman, Generaciones y Semblanzas, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, >954. P- 9°26. Ibid., p. 93. 27. Palencia, Cronica de Enrique IV, III, p. 124: como nacion aparteand thus also in the Latin original: tamquam segregata natio; see Academia de la Historia, Madrid, ms. 9-6482, f. 333. 28. Barrientos identifies that “nation” with the New Christians; see Getino, op. cit., p. 199. 29. Diego de p. 207. 30. Ibid., p. 208.

Valera,

Eplstolas,

1878,

31. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 343. 32. Valera, op. cit., p. 208. 33. J. de Torquemada, Tractatus Contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, p. 43, and many other places. 34. “Instruccion,” loc. cit., p. 243. 33. See my work on Alonso de Espina, loc. cit., p. 130 (n. 103). 36. See his “Memorial,” in Sefarad, xvii (1973), p. 321: xenero juddico; p. 323. 37. Enriquez del Castillo, Cronica del Rey Enrique IV (BAE, vol. 70), pp. 144^-145a (cap. 74). 38. Palencia, op. cit., Ill, p. 124. 39. See Louis R. Loomis, “Nationality at the Council of Constance,” in American Historical Review, XLIV ('939)1 PP- P4-P5 40. Ibid., p. 326. 41. Ibid. 42. La Ciudad de Dios, XXXV (1894), p. 330. 43. Americo Castro, “Las Castas y lo

{pages 1000-1013)

44. 45. 46.

47. 48.

49.

NOTES

Castizo,” in La Torre, Puerto Rico, no. 35-36, 1961, p. 78. Ibid., p. 67. The Spaniards in their History, transl. by W. Starkie, 1950, p. 190. Jose Onega y Gasset, Invertebrate Spain, transl. by M. Adams, 1937, p. 22. Ibid. With the second conquest of Murcia by Jaime I of Aragon who delivered the city to Castile which had first gained it from the Moslems in 1243. See his articles, “The Development of a National Theme in Medieval Castilian Literature,” Hispanic Review, III (April, 1935), pp. 149-161; “The Incipient Sentiment of Nationality in Medieval Castile,” in Speculum, xii

(I937), PP- 35I_3j8; and “National Sentiment in the Poems of Fernan Gonzalez, etc.” in Hispanic Review, xvi (1948), pp. 61-68. 50. See Maria Rosa Lida de Malkiel, Juan de Mena, 1950, pp. 539-545. 51. Ibid., pp. 542-543, n. 7. 52. See Cancionero Castellano del Siglo XV, ed. R. Foulche-Delbosc, I, 1912, p. 524 (no. 202). I cannot see how Espana may be understood here in terms of “political geography,” as suggested by Lida {op. cit., p. 543, no. 7). 53. See Cancionero Catellano (cited above, no. 49), p. 720 (nos. 126—127); and cf. ibid., p. 721 (no. 136), 725 (no. 169), and 743 (no. 331). To Guzman, the various political units in the peninsula were kingdoms, principalities or provinces of one “nation”—Spain. Occasionally, he applies the term “nation” also to Castile (as in no. 169), which attests his inclination to identify the two con¬

[ 13°7

likewise appear in Garcia’s “Mem¬ orial” (pp. 323, 325), seem to indi¬ cate his belief that all the Christian peoples of Spain were being amalgamated in a common ethnic entity (genero) which will never intermingle with the Jews.

Ferdinand of Aragon 1. Thus we do not hear it proposed by Garcia, though he justified the burning of alleged Judaizers in Toledo, during the rebellion (see his “Memorial,” loc. cit., pp. 331-332), or by any of his followers whose opinions are echoed in the satires we have discussed (see above, pp. 512-516, 849-854). 2. See above, pp. 676-679. 3. First published by Fidel Fita in RAH, Boletin, xv (1889), p. 448-453., and later by B. Llorca, in Bulario Pontificio de la lnquisicion Espafiola, 1949, pp. 49-55. 4. Ibid., pp. 51-54. 5. Ibid., p. 49. According to the Kings’ letter, the papal bull said: algunos malos christianos (some bad Christians). The Pope, however, was obviously in¬ formed by the Kings that there were many (quamplunmi) deviators among the converts (see ibid., p. 51). 6. 7. 8. 9.

Ibid., pp. 49-50. Ibid., pp. 54-55. Ibid., p. 55. Raynaldus, Annales, t. xxi, 1727, ann. 1451, §6, p. 380b.

10. Reg. Vat. 518, f. 2o6v. 11. See his bull of August 1,1475, published by Lea in American Historical Review, I (1896), p. 4912. RAH, Memorias

de Enrique

II

de

cepts. 54. Garcia’s “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 341; cf. p. 342: y oyr nuestros pueblos e los

Castilla, p. 366a. 13. See Fidel Fita, “La lnquisicion anormal, 6 anticanonica, planteada en Sevilla,” in RAH, Boletin, XV (1889), pp.

naturales dellos. 55. See above, n. 36. 56. The contradictory terms xenero christiano and xenero judaico, which

14. The word premio stands here no doubt for premia or apremw, cf. Partidas, VII, tit. 24, 1. vi; “Fuer^a nin premia deuen

448, 450.

1308 ]

15. 16.

17. 18.

19.

20. 21.

22.

NOTES

fa£er a ningund judio porque se torne christiano.” CICa, ed. Friedberg, II, Sextus, lib. V, tit. ii, cap. 13; and see Boletln, xv, p. 450. See Ortiz’ “Tratado contra la carta del protonotario de Lucena,” in Los Tratados del doctor Alonso Ortiz, 1493, ff. LIV-CV. Tarsicio de Azcona, Isabel la Catolica, 1964, p. 400. Isidore’s view is expressed in the 57th decree of the 4th Toledan Council (633) and see above, p. 1187, n. 27. For the position of Pope Gregory the Great, see above, p. 1187, n. 30. For the view of Thomas Aquinas, see Summa Theologica, IP, 2a, qu. 10, articles 8, 10. Duns Scotus, who in principle con¬ sidered forced conversion permissible, regarded it as valid only when carried out by a sovereign {Opera omnia, VIII, 1639, p. 27y; Sent. IV, hist. 4, qu. 9). In 1391, however, the Kings of both Castile and Aragon were opposed to Martinez’ campaign; hence even according to Duns Scotus, the forced conversions that occurred in that year lacked legal force. See Fita, loc. cit., p. 455. Pulgar, Cronica (ed. Carriazo), I, 1943, pp. 439-440, and Pope Sixtus IV’s bull of April 18, 1482, in Llorca, op. cit., pp. 67-72 See Coulton, The Inquisition, 1929, p. 6S-

23. Machiavelli, The Prince, xxi. 24. Guicciardini, Storia d’ltalia, vi, 12. 25. Segni, Storie Fiorentine, 1725, p. 335 (Segni completed this history c. 1557)-

26. See Llorente, Histoire critique de I’Inquisition d’Espagne, I, pp. 1^2-143. 27. J. del Castillo y Mayone, El Tribunal de la Inquisicion, 1835, p. 1. 28. Adolfo de Castro, History of the Jews in Spain, transl. E. D. G. M. Kirwan, 1847, pp. 122, 150. 29. Los Judeoconversos en Espana y America, 1978, pp. 36-37.

{pages 1013-1027)

30. Ibid., p. 33; cf. Pulgar, op. cit., I, p. 337. 31. Lea, History, II, p. 317. 32. Authors like G. A. Bergenroth {Cal¬ endar of State Papers, I, pp. 37, 45—46) and U. R. Burke (A History of Spain, II, p. 307) denied her financial dis¬ interestedness in the Inquisition. Their condemnatory statements about Isabella, however, were inferred from her conduct after the establishment of the Holy Office. 33. This is similar to the financial con¬ siderations that accompanied his decision on the Expulsion. See my Don Isaac Abravanel, 19824, pp. 51, 281 (n. 67). 34. Dominguez Ortiz, op. cit., p. 37. 35. Ibid., ibid. 36. Tarsicio de Azcona, op. cit., pp. 415— 422. 37. Llorente, Histoire, I, p. 399. 38. Lea, History, II, p. 367. 39. Tarsicio de Azcona, op. cit., pp. 417-418. 40. See Ranke, op. cit., pp. 243-244. 41. Ibid., pp. 244-245. 42. K. J. von Hefele, The Life and Times of Cardinal Ximenes, transl.J. Dalton, 1885, p. 314. 43. F. Guizot, The History of Civilization (transl. by W. Hazlitt), I, 1911, p. 201. 44. See V. Balaguer, Los Reyes Catolicos, I, 1892, pp. 366-373. 45. Bulario de la Orden de Santiago, lib. 1, f. 36. 46. See above, p. 733. 47. See his Catolica Impugnacion, 1961, with an introductory study by F. Marquez [Villanueva], pp. 4—53. 48. Lea, History, IV, pp. 248—249. 49. Perhaps the rrtost summarized view of this group was expressed by Pius Bonifacius Gams who said: “The Spanish Inquisition was introduced by the State, was governed and directed by the State, was a tool in the hands of the State, was abolished by the State” {Die Kirchengeschichte von Spanien, 1956, III/2, p. 93).

{pages 1021-1056)

NOTES

For the changing attitudes of Catholic scholars toward the Spanish Inquisition, see E. Schafer, “Die Katholische Geschichtschreibung und die Inquisition,” in Der Alte Glaube, Leipzig, IX, issues of Dec. 6 and Dec. 13. !9°750. Lea, History, IV, pp. 248-249. 51. Gams noted that out of the 44 Inquisitors-General of the Spanish Holy Office, the State dismissed 12, the Popes only one {op. cit., p. 93, n. 1). 52. Lea, History, II, p. 317. 53. Ibid., I, p. 21. 54. Ibid., ibid., p. 189. yy. Ibid., ibid. y6. Ibid., ibid. y7. Ibid. y8. Ibid., I, p. 22; II, pp. 378—379. y9_ Ibid., ibid. 60. See Sandoval’s Historia de la vida y hechos del Emperador Carlos V, I, i9yy, lib 1, ano iyi6, c. y9, p. 61a. According to Adolfo de Castro {op. cit., pp. 116-117), Sandoval said: “This King had long since thrown his confessor overboard, as a troublesome merchant, telling the latter that he was more influenced by motives of personal interest than regard for his conscience.” However inaccurate as a quotation, the sentence correctly describes Ferdinand, pro¬ vided we agree that his “personal interests” and his political interests were virtually identical. 61. Lea, History, I, pp. 189-190. 62. Adolfo de Castro, op. cit., p. 173. 63. 64. 6y. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70.

Ibid., pp. 173-174Ibid. p. i7y. Lea, History, I, pp. 189-190. Lea, Chapters from the Religious History of Spain, 1890, pp. 469-487. See on this below, p. 1090. Pulgar, Cronica, I, pp. 439-440. B. Llorca, Bulario Pontificio, pp. 67—72. See Llorente, Historia Critica de la Inquisicion en Espaiia, 1980, I, p. 296;

Histoire, I, 1817, p. 398. 71. Lea, History, I, p. 194. This is Lea s

[ H0? translation of a passage from a letter by Gonzalo de Ayora, dated July 16, iyo7, to Miguel Perez de Almazan, King Ferdinand’s secretary (published by Cesareo Fernandez Duro, in RAH, Boletln, XVII (1890), pp. 446—4y2). See also the recorded charges raised against Lucero by Ayora as procurador of Cordova before King Ferdinand, which were published by F. Marquez Villanueva in his Investigaciones sobre Juan Alvarez Gato, i960, pp. 4oy~409, 410—413. And see concerning this Marquez, ibid., pp.

47->52-

■

72. Ibid., and see Lea, History, I, p. i9y. 73. 74. 7y. 76. 77.

Ibid., p. 211. Ibid., p. i9y. Ibid., p. 211. Ibid., p. 193. See Ferdinand’s letter published by Armando Cotarelo y Valledor, Fray Diego de Deza, i9oy, pp. 3yo~3yi. 78. Lea, History, I, p. 196. 79. Ibid., p. 197. 80. Modesto Lafuente, Historia General de Espana, VII, 1922, p. 2yo.

The Racial Substitute 1. Andres Bernaldez, Memorias del reinado de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. Manuel Gomez-Moreno y Juan de M. Carriazo, 1962, pp. 102-103 (cap. 44). 2. Ibid., p. 102.

The Parallel Drive 1. See above, p. 920. 2. See L. a Paramo, De Origine et progressu Oficii Sanctae Inquisitionis, iy98, pp. 138-139; G. de Talavera, Historia de nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, Toledo, iy97, ffi 9ov—9L; Jose de Sigiienza, op. cit., II, pp. 29-41; F. Fita, “La Inquisicion en Guadalupe,” in RAH, Boletln, XXIII (1893), pp. 283-288. For the literature on the subject, see Lea, History, 1,171; II, pp. 286, 367; III, 88, ny—116; Baer, History, II,

131 o ]

NOTES

PP- 337—338» 353—3J4i Dominguez Ortiz, op. cit., 67; A. Sicroff, op. cit., 76-87; T. de Azcona, “Dictamen en defensa de los judios conversos de la Orden de San Jeronimo a principios del siglo xvi,” in Studia Hieronymiana, II (1973), 347-38°; H. Beinart, “The Judaizing movement in the Order of San Jeronimo,” in Scripta Hierosolymitana, VII (1961), pp. 168-192 (deals with the trials of five Hieronymite friars by the Inquisition of the Order). 3. Beinart says (loc. cit., p. 168) that from Oropesa’s Lumen “we learn that even in those days apostasy had been discovered in the monastery of the order at Guadalupe.” No intimations of such “discoveries,” however, are found in Oropesa’s work, and naturally they cannot provide a “clue,” as Beinart claims, to the “condition of the Order in general” [ibid., p. 169). 4. Sigiienza, op. cit., II, p. 30b. 5. See on him ibid., p. 29b. Sigiienza, who praises his “sanctity and prudence,” indicates that Orense aspired to the “quietude of his cell,” and was “afflicted” by the thought of the burden imposed on him by his election as General. 6. See Fita, loc. cit., p. 284. 7. Ibid. 8. We gather this from the decision of the Order in i486 which states that “se hallaron en el [the Convent of Guadalupe] algunos frayles, corrompidos con estos errores y fueron condenados por hereges, quemados publicamente” (Sigiienza, op. cit., II, p. 33a). Of course, “algunos” may mean here more than several, but probably no more than a small number. 9. Ibid., p. 32a. Talavera, who was himself prior of Guadalupe and no doubt had all the records of the monastery at his disposal, stated unreservedly [op. cit., pp. 90—91) that Marchena was burned together with the Judaizers of

10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 27.

[pages 1056-1061) Guadalupe in 1485. Beinart, however, asserted that he was burned “apparently in 1488,” since “before his death he managed to appear for the prosecution in the trial of Diego de Zamora” (a friar of the convent of San Bartolome de Lupiana) which began in 1489 [loc. cit., pp. 169, 184, n. 94). But the record of the Inquisition, on which Beinart relied, does not say that Marchena testified in Zamora’s trial, but that he confessed (perhaps in his own trial) that he had expressed “doubts about the faith” to Diego de Zamora, of which the latter failed to inform the Inquisition. The aforesaid communication to Zamora, the record adds, took place “eight or nine months before Marchena was burned” (see Archivo Historico Nacional, Inquisicion, leg. 188, no. 13 moderno, f. ior). See Lea, History, II, 286. See Sigiienza, op. cit., II, p. 32a. Ibid., p. 32b. Ibid., p. 33a. Ibid., p. 34ab. Ibid., p. 34b. Ibid., ibid. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 34b~3ya. Ibid., p. 37a. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 3yab. Ibid., pp. 35b—37b. Ibid., p. 37b. Ibid., p. 38a. There is no apparent ground for Beinart’s assertion that “every possible effort was made [by the Order] to conceal the existence of the Judaizing movement among the monks” [loc. cit., p. 170). On the contrary: the issuance of the limpieza statute by the Order and the great struggle against its revocation served in themselves as forceful announce¬ ments that the Order saw itself endangered by Judaizers. Above all, the inquisitional actions in

{pages 1062-1067)

NOTES

Guadalupe, in which a number of friars were publicly burned (among them the above mentioned Marchena), and the establishment of an in¬ dependant Inquisition by the Order, which condemned many members of the Order to harsh punishments, were meant to be publicized rather than hidden. As Sigiienza, {op. cit., II, p. 39a) put it: “Hicieronse castigos publicos y exemplares, hasta llegar con algunos a la hoguera, y otros en carceles perpetuas reclusos, otros privados de exercisio de las ordenes” (italics are mine, B. N.). In fact, what the Order strove for was not to purge itself clandestinely from its alleged sinners, but to serve as a model to all other organizations, religious and secular, in the country as to how to deal with the conversos in their midst. 26. Sigiienza defines him as “hombre seuero y riguroso con los otros, y consigo mas ... a quien nunca se rendia” (p. 35b). 27. Ibid., p. 39a. 28. Ibid., ibid. 29. Ibid., p. 40a. According to Tarsicio de Azcona, “Dictamen en defensa de los Judios conversos de la Orden de San Jeronimo a principios del siglo XVI,” in Studia Hieronymiana, II (1973), p. 358, n. 28, two friars had already been sent to Rome in 1489 to attain papal support of the statute. 30. Sigiienza, op. cit., 60b—61a. Pleased as they were with the papal decree, Gonzalo and his friends agreed to permit the Order’s converso vicars and confessors to continue in their posi¬ tions. Sigiienza explains this sur¬ prising decision by their desire not to “inflame the ulcer” and avoid expected “inconveniences.” Motivating their decision, however, was no doubt the realization that their achievement had aroused King Ferdinand s anger, which they sought to allay or, at least, reduce. 31. See S. Simonsohn, “La ‘Limpieza de Sangre’ y la Iglesia,’ in Adas del II

32.

33. ' 34.

[1311

Congreso International: Encuentro de las tres Culturas, Toledo, 3—6 Octubre 1983, p. 309. The only exception seems to have been the bull of 1511 authorizing a limpieza statute for the Cathedral Church of Badajoz. See A. Dominguez Ortiz, Los conversos de origen Judlo despues de la expulsion, 1955, p. 62. Jose de Rujula, Indice de los colegiales etc., 1946, p. xxxi. H. C. Lea, History, II, p. 287.

The Unchanged Goal 1. See BNM, ms. 13038, ff. 2. See the two versions of this letter published by Adolfo de Castro in his History of the Jews of Spain, translated by E. D. G. M. Kirwan, Cadiz, 1847, pp. 160-161. The version published by Isidro de las Cagigas in his edition of Libra Verde de Aragon, Madrid, 1929, p. 107, was obviously not the one submitted by Siliceo to the Pope (see below, p. 1066) as it could not serve as basis for the reply allegedly given by the Jews of Constantinople. Siliceo’s final version must have therefore been closer to, or identical with one of the drafts published by Castro. 3. See the two formulations of the reply in Castro, op. cit. pp. 161-163; see also Libro Verde De Aragon, pp. 107-108. 4. Ibid., p. 107. 5. Ibid., p. 108. 6. Cf. BNM, ms. 13038, ff. 23-28’, and other places. 7. This was indeed the view of Adolfo de Castro, op. cit., pp. 163-164. 8. See Siliceo’s assertion in the aforecited ms. 13038, f. 79". 9. On the vacillation of Charles V and his conflicting decisions concerning the Limpieza, see Lea, op. cit., II, pp. 289-290. 10. See ms. 13038, f. 24'. 1,. See ibid., ff. 48r, 33v, 30’, 22v, 26’, 28’. 12. See ibid., f. 81—82'.

1312

NOTES

]

13. Ibid., f if-2f. 14. Ibid., f. 24v. 15. Lea, op. cit., II, p. 293.

16. Note his description of the conversos as “bulliciosos” (BNM, ms. 13038, f. if.) 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

Lea, op. cit., II, p. 293. Cf. ms. 13038, f. 89v. Ibid., ff. 24v-25r. Lea, op. cit., II, p. 292. Ibid., ibid.

Struggling Assimilation

1. Ms. p. 13038 of BNM, f. 25V. 2. See above, pp. 416—417. 3. Lopez Villalobos, Cartas Castellanas, no. 45, published by the Sociedad de Bibliofilos Espanoles; republished by Dominguez Ortiz, op. cit., Appendix VI (P- 249)4. Cardinal Mendoza y Bobadilla, Tizon de la Nobleza espanola, Barcelona, 1880. 5. See above, p. 988. 6. See Jose Gomez-Menor, Cristianos Nuevos y Mercaderes de Toledo, 1970, especially pp. xv-xvii, 59-76, and the documents, p. iyff. 7. Accordingly, Siliceo claimed that converso women wielded a strong influence on their Christian husbands, presumably on behalf of Jewish interests; see aforecited ms. 13038, f. 82v. 8. Spinoza, Works, I (Theologico-Political Treatise), transl. by R.H.M. Elwes, I, 1951, p. 56. 9. The trend toward the phenomenon noticed by Spinoza was already indicated toward the end of the 16th century in Bautista Perez’s report to the Suprema (see Lea, History, III, p. 236).

The Insidious Pretext 1. E. Vacandard, “Inquisition,” in Hastings Encyclopaedia, VII, pp. 335-336. 2. Lord Acton, Letters to Mary Gladstone, ed. H. Paul, 1913, p. 147; Selections from the Correspondence of Lord Acton, ed. Figgis and Laurence, 1917, pp. 55, 217.

{pages 1067-1083) The Destructive Urge

1. Of the considerable literature on the Moriscos, mention must be made of Pascual Boronat y Barrachina, Los Moriscos espanoles y su Expulsion, 1901 (2 vols.); Lea, The Moriscos of Spain, 1901; id., History, III, pp. 317—410; and L. Marmol Carvajal, Rebeliony castigo delos Moriscos de Granada (BAE, vol. XXI). 2. See my remarks on this subject in my article, “La Razon de la Inquisicion,” in Inquisicion Espanola y mentalidad inquisitorial, ed. Angel Alcala, 1984, p. 28. 3. W.E.M. Lecky, History of the Rise of Rationalism in Europe, 1865, p. 387. 4. See above, p. 1063. 5. Lea, History, III, p. 492. 6. Ibid., ibid., p. 489. 7. John L. Motley, The Rise of the Dutch Republic, II, 1903, pp. 169-170; and see the decree of the Inquisition of Madrid dated Feb. 16, 1568, which confirms the judgment of the Inquisition of Netherland, according to which all the people of that country were defined not only as rebels to their King but also as heretics or fautors of heresies who deserved capital punishment (pubished in Dutch translation by Pieter Bor Christiaensz in his Oorsprongk, Begin, en Vervolgh der Nederlandsche Oorlogen, I, 1679, p. 226). According to T. M. Lindsay, A History of the Reformation, II, 1516, pp. 255-256, the order threatening mass-annihilation was issued by the Council of Tumults against acts of treason, and not of heresy. But rebellious acts such as opposing the Inquisition were considered both treacherous and heretical, and the spirit that imbued the tribunal’s activity was indicated by the statement of one of its leaders, Juan de Vargas, who said of the people of the northern provinces: “The heretics have broken open the Churches, the orthodox have done nothing to hinder them; therefore they ought all of them to be hanged together.” Lindsay

{pages 1083-1095)

8. 9. 10. 11.

NOTES

concedes that by this indictment he “brought the whole population of the Netherlands within the grip of the public executioner.” In any case, the Council of Tumults was a vehicle of Philip II, who was both inspired and guided by the Inquisition. Ibid., ibid. Lea, History, III, pp. 334-340, 388-390. Jeremiah, 17.9. W. N. Rule, History of the Inquisition, 1868, p. 222.

•

Expulsion 1. On the manipulative and arbitrary attachment of crimes such as blas¬ phemy, bigamy and witchcraft to the sphere of the Inquisition’s jurisdic¬ tion, see Lea, History, IV, 206,316ft, 328ft. 2. See above, pp. 833-839. 3. See below, n. 5. 4. See Baer, II, pp. 348-349 ($337); 357-359 (§344). Documents published by F. Fita, “La Inquisicion de Jerez de la Frontera,” in RAH, Boletin, XV (1889), 323-325, 327-328, show that the expulsion from that town was delayed until July 7, 1484. 5. Baer, History (Hebrew), 1959, p. 411 (emphasis added). If we are right in assuming, as Baer did, that the royal decision to expel the Jews from Andalusia resulted from the advocacy of the Inquisition, we must also assume that the Kings found it necessary formally to accept at least the main reasons the Inquisition offered for its

6. 7. 8. 9.

10.

11.

3M

[ '

proposition. An echo of these reasons we hear in Ferdinand’s letter to the inquisitors of Aragon (dated May 12, i486), which begins with the words: “Devotos padres. Porque por exper¬ ience parece, que todo el danyo, que en los cristianos se ha fallado del delito de la heregia, ha procedido de la conversacion e pratica, que con los jodios han tenido las personas de su linage . . .” (Baer, I, p. 913). As we see it, the King attributes his decision to the alleged lesson of “experience,” of which he had no doubt been re¬ peatedly informed by those who had constantly dealt with the problem—namely, the Inquisitors. By way of presenting his allegedly own thinking, he tells the Inquisitors that he accepted their argument and resolved to act accordingly. Baer, I, pp. 912-913 (§563). Lea, History, I (Documents, I), p. 569. Ibid., p. 569. On the trial of the Santo Nino de La Guardia, see F. Fita, “El Proceso y Quema de Juce Franco,” in RAH, Boletin, XI (1887), pp. 13—115; Lea, Chapters from the Religious History of Spain, 1890, pp. 437-468; id., History, I, pp. 133-134. The text of the edict was published by Amador, Historia, III, pp. 603-607 and (a more accurate version) by F. Fita, in Boletin, XI (1887), pp. 512-520. Lea, Chapters from the Religious History

of Spain, p. 457. 12. F. Fita, in RAH, Boletin, XI (1887), p. 14.

APPENDICES

The Number of the Marranos in Spain 1. Y.

Baer, A History of the Jews in

Christian Spain, II, 1966, p. 246. 2. A. Dominguez Ortiz, Los Judeoconversos en Espatia y America, 1978, p. 192.

3. The Marranos of Spain, pp. 238—248. 4. Ibid., pp. 240-241, 246-247. 5. Ibid., pp. 255-270; Baron, A Social and Religious History of the fews, XIII, 1969, p. 337, n. 4. 6. Schevet Jehuda, ed. Wiener, Hebrew section, p. 128.

1855,

1314 ]

NOTES

7. The Spanish Kingdoms, II, 1978, p. 149, n. 2. 8. REJ, XIV, p. 171. 9. Guerra de Granada, transl. by A. Paz y Melia, V, 1909, p. 25. 10. See The Marrams of Spain, pp. 266—267. 11. See Fernando de Pulgar, Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. Carriazo, I, 1943, P-

33712. On the total number of Seville’s population at the time, see what I wrote in The Marrams of Spain, pp. 264-265, n. 2. 13. Loeb, in REJ, XIV, p. 171; Baer, Untersuchungen iiber Quellen und Komposition des Schebet Jehuda, 1936, p. 29; id., History, II, p. 471, n. 15. 14. The Marrams of Spain, pp. 258—259; see also ibid., pp. 239-241. 15. Ibid., p. 241, n. 4. 16. Ibid., pp. 241-242. 17. History, X, p. 375, n. 2. 18. See Arevalo’s account in A. Neubauer, Medieval Jewish Chronicles, 1,1887, p. 98; Zacuto, Sefer Yuhasin, ed. Filipowski, 1857, p. 225b. 19. Geschichte, VIII3, p. 113. 20. See Amador, Historia, II, pp. 531—552; L. Suarez Fernandez, Documentos acerca de la Expulsion de los Judios, 1964, pp. 65-72. 21. See Isaac Abravanel, Maaynei ha-Yeshu'ah, Ferrara, 1551, 8b; and cf. my Don Isaac Abravanel, 19824; pp. 55, 280, n. 60. 22. Graetz, VIII, 18903, n. 10, pp. 462-463. 23. Ibn Verga, Shevet Yehuda, 46th persecution (ed. Baer-Shohat, 1947, p. 118)—16,000; Usque, Consolation, ed. Martin A. Cohen, 1964, p. 194 (dialogue 3, chapter 21)—15,000 (Usque confuses the persecutions of 1391 and 1412 and is evidently misinformed); Bzovius, Annales Eccles. ad annum 1412—over 20,000; a contemporary Catalonian source cited by R. Chabas, in RABM, VI [1902], p. 3)—25 ,000; Mariana, Hist. General de Espana, lib. XIX, cap. 12; BAE, vol. 31, p. 486—35,000 Jews (as against 8,000 Moors).

{pages 1096-1101)

24. See above, p. 202. 25. Alami, Iggeret Musar, ed.Jellinek, 1872, p. 10b. 26. Zacuto, op. cit., p. 225b. 27. Ms. G-15 of Academia de la Historia, Madrid, f. 169 (Coleccion Salazar, vol. 12-3-4, of the 16th century). Alvar Garda de Santa Maria, a converso, said that the petition for retrieving the expulsion decree submitted by Seville’s Jews to Fernando of Antequera was based on the argument that if they were thrown out of their homes in mid winter they would die of cold in the fields. Alvar Garcia considered the argument false. Fernando, the Regent, however, must have thought dif¬ ferently; and, as we know from Alami (see above, n. 25), his judgment was correct. 28. Alami, op. cit., p. 10b. 29. Ibid., ibid. 30. See above, p. 193. 31. See Graetz, VIII, 18903, p. hi, n. 2. 32. Ibid., ibid. 33. No doubt, Valencia de Don Juan, south of Leon. 34. South of Valencia de Don Juan. 35. Ibid., pp. no—hi. 36. Sefer Yuhasin, p. 225b. That the con¬ version of “1412” continued beyond that year in both Castile and Aragon also following the periods of Ferrer’s intensive agitation is evident from such facts as the conversion of 120 Jews in Guadalajara in March 1414 following a sermon preached by a Franciscan friar (see King Fernando I’s letter to Ferrer, in Baer, II, p. 277, doc. 282, and F. Vendrell’s remarks in Sefarad, XIII [1953], p. 92) and the con¬ version of the remainder of the commu¬ nity of Fraga (in Catalonia) in 1418 (see notification of Pope Martin V, of May 13,1418, in J. Goni Gaztambide’s article, “Conversion de la Alajama de Fraga,” in Hispania Sacra, XIII [i960], p. 2). 37. Baer, Diejuden, I, pp. 159-160, and II, p. 29 2 f.

{pages 1102-1105)

NOTES

38. See on this The Marrams of Spain, pp. 244—24539. According to Bernaldez, that increase must have been high. Referring to the con versos, he says: “Todo su hecho era crecer e multiplicar” {Historia de los Reyes Catolicos, cap. 43, BAE, vol. 70, p. 600a). 40. See Eugenio Alberi, Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti al Senato, Serie I", vol. P, Florence, 1859, p. 29. 41. See J. Liske, ed., Viajes de Extranjeros por Espana y Portugal, 1878. pp. 55-56, 67. Popielovo (Nicolaus von Popplau) visited Spain in 1484-1487. 42. See A. Hershman, R. Yizhaq ben Sheshet, 1955-1956, pp. 194—19J.

12. 13.

'

Diego de Anaya and His Advocacy of Limpieza 1. F. Ruiz de Vergara y Alava, Vida del lllustrissimo Seilor Don Diego de Anaya Maldonado, 1661, pp. 47-49. 2. Joseph de Roxas y Contreras, Historia del Colegio Viejo de S. Bartholome, I, 1766, pp. 56—58. 3. See Antonio Dominguez Ortiz, Los Conversos de origen Judio despues de la Expulsion, 1955, p. 55. 4. See Ruiz de Vergara, op. cit., p. 47. 5. That of Benedict XIII’s bull is found in Arch. Segre. Vaticano, Reg. Aven. 344, f. 736™; that of the bull of Martin V is found in Arch. Vat. Reg. Lateran, 195, f.

nf. 6. See his Les Controverses des Statuts de Purete de Sang en Espagne de XV' au XVII' Siecle, i960, p. 89, n. 101. 7. “Memorial,” loc. cit., p. 347. 8. The Old Christians of the antiMarrano party designated themselves as lindos also in 1467 (see A. Martin Gamero, Historia de Toledo, 1862, p. 1040). 9. See Sicroff, op. cit., p. 89, n. 101. 10. Ibid., ibid. 11. See Jose de Rujula y de Ochotorena, Indice de los Colegiales del Mayor de San Ildefonso y menores de Alcala, 1946, p.

14.

[ 1

3

1 J

VIII. In fact, this policy was pursued by most colleges throughout the 15th century and beyond; see ibid., pp. xiv (concerning the College of San Bartolome, see pp. xvi, xvii, xxiv, xxv). See Sicroff, op. cit., pp. 89-90, n. 101. See, for instance, Moses Arragel’s letter to Luis de Guzman, Master of Calatrava, where he employs the term lympia sangre (or pura sangre) in the sense of noble origin {Biblia. Antiguo Testamento, published by the Duke of Berwick and Alba, 1918-1921, I, p. 4). Diego Enriquez del Castillo, the chronicler of Enrique IV, describes Gonzalo de Saavedra as being of limpia sangre (in the sense of noble origin; see Cronica del Rey Don Enrique IV, BAE, vol. 68, p. 141a) and cites the constable Miguel Lucas de Iranzo’s reference to King Enrique as noble e de limpia sangre {ibid., p. 183b). In a similar manner, and late in the century, Pulgar says of Alfonso Carrillo, Archbishop of Toledo, that he was “de los fidalgos e de limpia sangre del reino de Portogal” {Claros Varones de Castilla, ed. J. Dominguez Bordona, p. 116). Such terms, indeed, were used by the Colegio de Santa Maria del Monte Olivete in Salamanca when, in its statutes of 1517, it included a stipulation that the students must be offspring of legitimate marriages (see L. Sala Balust, Constituciones, Estatutos y Ceremonias de los antiguos Colegios seculares de la Universidad de Salamanca, I, 1962, p. 145, §6), and by the Colegio de Santa Maria Magdalena in 1516 (see ibid., II, p. 23, §12, lines 6iy-6i6). Similar enactments we have also from the beginning of the 17th century in the Constituciones Latinas of the Colegio de Santa Catalina, 1603, § 4 (see ibid., II, p. 390) and the constitutions of the College of San Ciriaco y Santa Paula of 1612 (see Jose de Rujula, op. cit., p. xxxv). For later regulations of Spanish

Colleges taking the same stand on the subject of illegitimacy, see ibid., pp. xxxvi-xxxvii, xl. The enactments of statutes to this ef¬ fect, however, might be attributed— at least, to some extent—to the growing influence of the limpieza pol¬ icy: illegitimate children could well be descendants ofjews, Moors, or heretics. iy. See L. Sala Balust, op. cit., Ill, 1964, p. 10, n. 5. 16. See J. Goiii Gaztambide, “Recompensas de Martin V a sus electores espanoles,” in Hispania Sacra, V (1958), PP-

{pages 1105-1126)

NOTES

1316 ]

259-397-

When Did Sarmiento leave Toledo? 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

See Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1, p. 670a. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 671a. Halconero, cap. 383, p. 538. Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1, pp. 6joa-6jia. 6. See Refundicion, Carriazo’s introd., pp. xv-xvi, cxxx-cxxxix, and other places. 7. Abreviacion, cap. 175, f.299. 8. Benito Ruano, Toledo en el Siglo XV, p. 57-

3. 4. y. 6. 7.

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. 103. p. 102. p. 67. p. 68. ibid.-, Deut. 26.18—19.

II. More on the Judaizers 1. 2. 3. 4. y. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Tractatus, p. 96. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 182. Ibid., p. 183. Ibid., p. 186. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 187. Ibid., p. 188.

III. On the Reliability of Torquemada’s Testimony 1. See his introduction to Torquemada’s Tractatus contra Madianitas et Ismaelitas, W7, P- 3°2. See my Marrams of Spain, pp. 44-49. 3. See his introduction to Torquemada’s Tractatus, p. 30. 4. Ibid., ibid. y. Ibid., p. 7

9. Ibid., p. 58. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. iy. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

Halconero, cap. 383, p. 539. See above, n. 6. Cronica, ano 1450, cap. 1, p. 671a. Halconero, cap. 383, p. 538. Ibid., ibid., p. 539. Coleccion Diplomatica, nu. xvi, p. 26 Benito Ruano, op. cit., p. 71. See above, pp. 349—350. Benito Ruano, op. cit. p. 62. Ibid., ibid. Cronica, ano. 1450, cap. 1, p. 671b (como estaba dubdoso de su vida).

Juan de Torquemada I. Race and the Jewish People 1. Torquemada, Tractatus, p. 67. 2. Ibid., p. ioy.

The Gibraltar Project 1. Palencia, Cronica de Enrique IV, transl. Paz y Melia, III (1905), p. 233 (Decada II, lib. ix, cap. 8). 2. Ibid., ibid., p. 130 (lib. viii, cap. 2). 3. Ibid., pp. 132-133. 4. Ibid., pp. 232-233. y. Ibid., pp. 228-229. 6. Ibid., p. 230. 7. Ibid., p. 229. 8. Ibid., pp. 233. 9. Ibid., pp. 233-234. 10. Ibid., p. 234. 11. Ibid., IV (1908), p. 268 (Decada III, lib. xxvii, cap. y). 12. Ibid., page 269. 13. Ibid., pp. 267-268.

{pages 1126-1132)

NOTES

14. Ibid., p. 268. 15. Ibid., p. 269; and see what I wrote concerning the conversos’ settlement in Gibraltar in my Marrams of Spain, >9732. PP- 251-254. 16. Palencia, op. cit., IV, p. 269. The Death of Enrique IV 1. Palencia, Cronica de Enrique IV, III, p. 299 (Decada II, lib. X, cap. ix); according to Palencia, the last attack began with a “sudden and abundant flow of blood.” In the anonymous portrayal of Enrique published by Rodriguez Villa, Boquejo Biogrdfico de D. Betran de la Cueva, p. 6, the king’s eating is described as “destemplado" (irregular); it also indicates that occasionally he suffered in the loins. Valera’s description of the king’s sickness (“pains in the loin, loose bowels, and blood in the urine”) seems to combine intestinal and kidney trouble. In his last two days, he adds, Enrique became “so deformed that his sight aroused astonishment” (see his Memorial de diversas Hazanas, ed. Carriazo, 1941, p. 292). 2. Castillo, Cronica, cap. 166, p. 220a; cap. 164, p. 220a (desque infermo en Segovia). 3. Ibid., cap. 168, p. 221 b. Based on the clinical symptoms indicated in the sources, G. Maranon arrived at the conclusion that Enrique IV died of poison. See his Ensayo biologico sobre Enrique IV de Castilla y su tiempo, 1930, p. 60. 4. Castillo, Cronica, cap. 164, p. 218b. 5. Ibid., ibid. 6. Ibid. 7. See his Histoire de la revalue de la France et de lEspagne, III, 1801, p. 286. 8. Palencia, op. cit., Ill, p. 252 (Decada II, lib. X, cap. 1). 9. Ibid., II, p. 9 (Decada I, lib. ix, cap. 1). 10. Ibid., ibid. 11. J. B. Sitges, Enrique IV y la Excelente Senora, 1912, pp. 160—161, on the basis of

[ 1317

Rades y Andrada, Cronica de Calatrava, P- 7712. Palencia, op. cit. II, pp. 153-154 (Decada I, lib. X, cap. x). 13. V. Balaguer, Los Reyes Catolicos, I, 1892, P- 75Espina’s Source for the “Tale of the Two Tents” 1. See his Josef Haccohen et les croniqueres juives, 1888, p. 102. 2. See Samuel Usque, Consolations for the Tribulations of Israel, transl. by M. A. Cohen, 1965, pp. 283-284. 3. Ibid., pp. 285-286. 4. See his introduction to his commentary on Kings (at the end of the section dealing with the Kings of Judah) and his Wells of Salvation (Ma'aynei haYeshu'ah), Well II, palm (tamar) 3, toward the end of the opening section; and see my Don Isaac Abravatiel, 19824, pp. 65-66, 75. 5. Since Usque contains no chapter on the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, it stands to reason that Abravanel did not finish his Yemot 'Olam, which could have served Usque as a source for such a chapter. If the unfinished manuscript came into Usque’s hands, it may not have carried the name of the author, and consequently Usque, unsure of its provenance, indicated it simply as libro ebraico. This interpretation of the initials in question appears to me correct because in the majority of the cases (eleven out of nineteen) these initials appear as L. Eb„ l. Eb„ or //. Eb., which may well stand for libro ebraico, and one of the indications in capital letters (LI. EB.) may likewise stand for the same designation (LIBRO EBRAICO). 1 he remaining seven markings in capital letters (L.I.E.B.) are probably distortions of LI. EB or Li. eb. by some proof-reader who misunderstood their meaning. Yemot Olam was not published, and

no ms. of it is extant, perhaps because it remained unfinished. Another work by Abravanel, Eternal Justice, met the same fate, probably for the same reason (see my Don Isaac Abravanel, pp. 85 and 289, n. 12). 6. See above, chapter on Espina, note 70. The Abuse of the Conversos as “Judaizers” 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

See See See See See

{pages 1132-1145)

NOTES

1318 ]

above, p. 256. above, p. 259. above, p. 1208, n. 11. Gonzalez-Tejada, III, p. 736ff. above, pp. 355 and 1235, n. 28.

Bernaldez on the Conversos’ Occupations 1. Historia de los Reyes Catolicos Don Fernando y Dona Isabel, caps. 43 and 44; BAE, vol. 70, pp. 598b-6o2a; cf. the new edition of his work: Memorias del Reinado de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. M. Gomez Moreno y J. de M. Carriazo, 1962, pp. 94-103. 2. See the introduction of the editors of the aforementioned Memorias, p. xxi. 3. See above, pp. 1053-1054. 4. Historia, p. 610a. 5. Ibid., ibid. 6. Ibid, (italicization is mine, B.N.). 7. Ibid., p. 599a: “e ovo su impinacion e lozania de muy gran riqueza y vanagloria de muchos sabios e doctos, e obispos etc.” 8. See Abravanel, Commentary on Deuteronomy 4.15; cf. my Don Isaac Abravanel, 19824, p. 119. 9. Judeoconversos en Espanay America, 1978,

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11.

12. 13. 14.

P- 2I10. He may have been influenced in this by Espina, who expressed a similar thought. See above, p. 731. 11. See above, p. 780. Racism in Germany and Spain 1. See Seminar, an annual extraordinary number of The Jurist, I, (1943), PP- 4^>

15. 16.

73, published by the Washington School of Canon Law, The Catholic University of America. Ibid., p. 71. Ibid., ibid. Ibid., p. 70. See Martin Gamero, Historia de Toledo, p. 1038. Ibid., p. 1039. See his study “Nationalism and Race in Medieval Law,” loc. cit., p. 71. See his article “Marranos and Racial Antisemitism,” in Jewish Social Studies, II (1940), pp. 239-248. Ibid., pp. 242-243. Ibid., ibid. Cited by Jacob Katz in his Hebrew article on the Hep-Hep riots in Germany in 1819, Zion (Jerusalem), xxxviii (1973), p- lo6; cf- L- Borne, Gesammelte Schriften, Leipzig, I, p. 217 (from his article “Fur die Juden”). See Eleonore O. Sterling, Judenhass, 1969, pp. 125-129. Ibid., p. 170. Sterling also says that in the first half of the nineteenth century the “idea of extermination” was mostly presented in the form of a demand to annihilate Judaism, and that National Socialism “developed” this demand into a plan to annihilate the Jews {ibid., pp. 169-170). Nazism, however, could also build on more concrete plans to eliminate the Jews which German antisemitism had put forth in the first half of the 19th century. Especially did the racist agi¬ tation of the forties repeatedly project the expulsion of the Jews as a solution of the Jewish problem (see ibid., p. 129), and Nazism harped for some time on this idea as an alternative to extermi¬ nation. For a fuller account of this development, see A. Bein, Die Judenfrage, 1980, I, pp. 215ft; PP- y8ff. See Roth, loc. cit., p. 243. See my article, “Antisemitism,” in Encyclopaedia Hebraica, IV (1950), cols. 493a 5*3a-

{pages 1147-1168)

NOTES

The Converso Conspiracies Against the Inquisition 1. The enmity of the Inquisitors toward the conversos was repeatedly stressed by the New Christians, while Pope Sixtus IV denounced the excesses they committed out of avarice and disregard of justice. See Pulgar, Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, ed.

2. 3.

4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Carriazo, I, 1943, P- 337; H, P- 34°; and see the Pope’s bulls of January 29, February 2, and April 18, 1482, in B. Llorca, Bulario Pontificio de la Inquisition Espafiola, 1949, pp. 59ft., 6^., and 67ff. The latter bull, which censures the Inquisitors of Aragon, may likewise be taken as reflecting primarily the Inquisition in Castile. See his Historia, III, p. 247, n. 2. First in RAH, Bolettn, XVI (1890), pp. 450-45-6, and later in his Espana Hebrea, I (1889), pp. 185-190. Ibid., p. 85. Ibid., p. 191. The cited description of Nunez was made by a 17th century author on whom Fita relied; and see below, n. 6. Ibid., pp. 195-196. Ibid., pp. 193-195. Ibid., p. 194. Ibid., pp. 187-188. See above, pp. 806, 1122; Palencia, Cronica, III, p. 133. See on this, my

Marrams of Spain, 19732, PP- 25I-27411. By 1480, all the great nobles in Andalusia were bound to the Kings’ obedience. See Balaguer, Los Reyes Catolicos, I, pp. 371-372, 382. 12. Fita, op. cit., p. 193. 13. Ibid, ibid. 14. Bernaldez, Memorias del Reinado de los Reyes Catolicos, ed. Gomez-Moreno and Carriazo, 1962, cap. xliv, pp. 99—100. 15. See Amador, Historia, III, p. 243; Lea, History, I, 1905, pp- 162-163; Graetz, Geschicbte, VIII, 18893, pp. 289-290. 16. Fita, op. cit., I, p. 186. 17. Ibid., p. 192.

[ 1319

18. This is also the view of Fita, ibid., p. 193. 19. See F. Fita, “La Inquisicion Toledana,” in RAH, Bolettn, XI (1887), pp. 290-294. 20. Ibid., p. 291. 21. Ibid., pp. 292-293. 22. Ibid., p. 293. 23. Ibid., ibid. 24. See above, pp. 782-783. 25. See on this Lea, op. cit., I, p. 246. 26. Palencia, Cronica de Enrique IV, vol. IV, p. 117. 27. Fita, op. cit., p. 293. 28. Ibid., ibid. 29. See Ms. 13038 of the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, f. if. 30. Ibid., ff. 17”—i8r. 31. Lea, History, I, p. 274. 32. Ibid., p. 255. 33. Ibid., p. 250. 34. Baer, History, II, p. 368. 35. Ibid., p. 369. 36. Ibid., ibid. 37. Ibid., p. 370. 38. Ibid., p. 369. 39. Ibid., p. 370. Apart from charging him with heretical notions and per¬ formance of Jewish “ceremonies,” the Inquisition accused him of having “taught, at his home, the benedictions of these ceremonies to a certain Jew” (see the Inquisitional document pub¬ lished by Lea, History, I, appendix xii, p. 601). Baer, who was not struck by the strangeness of the claim that a converso taught a Jew (!) Jewish benedictions, not only failed to question the accusation, but also broadened it by saying that Francisco de Santafe “did much to propagate the Jewish religion” {History, II, p. 371), or, as he put it in the original of the above work: he “spread the Jewish religion among many" {Toledot, ed. 1959, p. 434). How much farther can one go in accepting or underscoring the findings of the Holy Office? The Inquisition “discovered” that Francisco taught Jewish benedictions to one few only,

1 320 ]

40.

41. 42. 43.

NOTES

but Baer takes this as evidence of a campaign! Baer draws further proof of Francisco’s Judaism from the In¬ quisition’s report that he was cir¬ cumcised (see ibid., ibid.; and cf Lea, op. cit., I, p. 601). We are not surprised that the Inquisition mentioned this fact, or that it passed in silence over the other related fact—namely, that in 1485, when Arbues was assassinated, Francisco was at least 75- years old; and thus his being circumcised proved nothing. Francisco must have been born a short time before Lorki’s conversion c. 1410 (see Libro Verde de Aragon, p. 45; and see above, pp. 202-203), a°d there is every reason to assume that, from early childhood, he was indoctrinated in Christianity by his father, the ardent convert. Baer, however, decided, against the evidence we possess (Libro Verde, p. 45), that Francisco was not Lorki’s son but his grandson. He gave us no reason for this unreserved decision, and we cannot think of any. As we see it, old age did not necessarily exclude one from serving as the Governor’s assessor, and Montesa, who was deputy chief justice of Saragossa, was also, we are told, an old man. Of course, as grandson, Francisco de Santafe might have been raised by a Judaizing father, and this could offer support to the claim of the Inquisition, as well as to Baer’s view of his Jewishness. Los Ortgenes de la Inquisicion en Aragon: S. Pedro Arbues, Mdrtir de la Autonomia Aragonesa, 1984, p. 64. Lea, op. cit., I, p. 250. Alcala, op. cit., p. 60. Ibid., p. 33.

44. See

his

Ortgenes de la

Dominacion

45. 46. 47. 48. 49. jo.

{pages 1169-1172) Espanola en America, cliii-clxx, dix-dxx. Ibid., p. clxix. Ibid., p. clxv. Ibid., p. dxvia. Ibid., p. dixa-dxva. Ibid., p. clxix. Ibid., ibid.

I,

1913,

pp.

ji. This is also the view of Serrano, ibid:. Todo hace presumir que Montesa y Paternoy no se hablan puesto en acuerdo para lanzar tal acusacion contra el Tesorero de Fernando el Catolico. jz. Ibid., p. clxxi. 53. Despite the great notoriety of the case, both Bernaldez and Palencia, as well as Valera, pass in complete silence over the murder of Arbues and the massive punishment that followed. Indubitably, they disqualified or at least questioned the veracity of the pertinent official reports. The only contemporary historian who discussed the murder of Arbues was Pulgar. As the official chronicler, who was well aware of Ferdinand’s stand on the matter, Pulgar’s refusal to follow the official line might have cost him his office. The pragmatic converso de¬ cided to yield, though probably not without much hesitation and before becoming subject to royal pressure. He reported the murder only in 1488, that is, three years after its occurrence, and without mentioning Arbues’ name. Pulgar, evidently, tried to play down the event. According to him, the murder resulted not from a conspiracy against the Holy Office, but from a plot of “some” conversos against a certain “judge who, they believed, solicited the Inquisition out of his enmity [for the New Christians] rather than out of zeal for the faith” (Pulgar, op. cit., II, p. 340).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The bibliography consists, with a few exceptions, of works men¬ tioned in the notes.

Abreviacion del Halconero, ms. 434, Bibl. de Santa Cruz, University of Val¬ ladolid. Academia de la Historia, Madrid, Coleccion de Fueros y Cartas Pueblas de Espana, 1852. -Cortes de Leon y de Castilla, I—V. -Memorias de Don Enrique II de Castilla, II, 1835—1913. -Opusculos Legales, 1836. -Memorial Historico Espafiol, I, 1851. -Coleccion de documentos ineditos para la historia de Espana. Acta Sanctorum, ed. J. Bollandus et al., 1643—1867. Acton, J.E.E.D., Letters to Mary Gladstone, ed. H. Paul, 1913. -General Correspondence, ed. Figgis and Laurence, 1917. -History of Freedom and Other Essays, i9°7Aeneas Sylvius Piccolominus, De gestis Concilii Basiliensis Commentariorum libri II, ed. Denys Hay and W. K. Smith, 1967. Alami, Solomon, Iggeret Musar, ed. Jellinek, 1872; ed. Habermann, 1946. Albertus Aquensis, Historia hierosolymitana, in Recueil des histonens des croisades: Historiens occidentaux, IV, 1879. Alcala, Angel, ed. Inquisicion Espanola y Mentalidad Inquisitorial, 1984. _los orlgenes de la Inquisicion en Aragon: S. Pedro Arbues, Martir de la Autonomla Aragonesa, 1984. I32B

1324]

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Augustine, Obras, bilingual edition, Latin-Spanish, in 22 vols., ed. BAC. Avi-Yonah, M., The Jews Under Roman and Byzantine Rule, 1976.

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i936-Die Juden im christlichen Spanien, I—II, 1929—1936. -On the Disputations of R. Yehiel of Paris and Nahmanides (Hebrew), in Tarbitz, II (1931). Balaguer, V., Los Reyes Catolicos, I, 1892. -Historia de Cataluna, III, 1862. Ballester y Castell, Rafael, Las Fuentes narrativas de la historia de Espaiia durante la edad media, 4/7-/474, 19272. Ballesteros y Beretta, A., Historia de Espana, III, 1922. -Alfonso X el Sabio, 1963. -“Don Yu^af de Ecija,” in Sefarad, VI (1946). Baron, S. W., Social and Religious History of the Jews, I—XVIII. -“The Jewish Factor in Medieval Civilization,” in AAJR, Proceedings, XII (1942). Bartolocci, J., Bibliotheca magna rabbinica, 1683. Bartolus de Saxoferrato, In tres libros codicis lucidissima commentaria, 1543. -“De Tyrannia,” in Humanism and Tyranny, ed. Emerton, 1925. Baur, F. Ch., History of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, I, 1878. Beinart, H., “The Judaizing Movement in the Order of San Jeronimo,” in Scripta Hierosolymitana, VII (1961). Bell, I., Jews and Christians in Egypt, 1924. Beltran de Heredia, V., “Coleccion de documentos ineditos para llustrar la vida del Cardenal Juan de Torquemada,” in Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, VII (1937). _“Las bulas de Nicolas V acerca de los conversos de Castilla,” in Sefarad, XXI (1961).

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Albacete, 186, 306 Alberi, Eugenio, 1315 Albert of Aachen (Albertus Aquensis), 1202, 1323 Albigenses, 734 Albolasia, Juan Fernandez, 961 Alboraique, 848-54, 1294—96 Albornoz, Alvar Garcia, 100-101 Albuera, battle of, 921 Albuquerque, Juan Alfonso de, 94-95, 225 Alcala de Guadaira, 131, 139, 149 Alcala de Henares, 385, 735, 856, 1240 Alcala Galve, Angel, 1169, 1278, 1293, 1320, '323 Alcana (in Toledo), 98-99, 114 Alcaniz, 203 Alcantara, Order of, 98 Alexander the Great, 7, 1179 Alexander III, Pope, 137 Alexander IV, Pope, 264, 1062—63 Alexander V, Pope, 180 Alexander VI, Pope, 1062, 1063 Alexandria, 7, 9, 11—18, 25, 575, 1183, 1185 Alexandria, Piedmont, 1284 Alfaro, 1284 Alfonso, natural son of Juan I of Navarre, 668, 669 Alfonso, Infante, half-brother of Enrique IV, King of Castile; later King Alfonso, 700, 758-759, 768-71, 784-87. 79'-94, 810, 952, 1129, 1130

INDEX

13J2 ]

Alfonso II, King of Asturias, 61 Alfonso III, King of Asturias, 61—62 Alfonso V, King of Aragon and Naples, 239, 279, 283, 289, 322, 332-33, 353, 1267 Alfonso V, King of Portugal, 916, 1128, 1281 Alfonso VI, King of Castile, 63, 65, 68, 83,

29 292- 385, 684-88, 691-93,

699, 708, 716-17, 725, 728, 733-41, 744-46, 748-5°, 752> 754-55, 757, 759-6°, 762, 766, 768, 770, 773-74, 796-97, 804, 809, 813, 815, 822, 824, 832-33, 845-46, 849, 853, 856-57, 9°4, 9°6, 915—18, 921-22, 933, 938, 947, 951—56, 958-59, 963, 97', 981,

986, 988, 995, 997, 1001-3, 1008, 1010, 1 o 11, i°22-23, 1025-26, 1034, 1037, 1039, 1050, 1079, 1090, 1095-1101, 1104, 1117-18, 1144, 1149, 1194, 1197—1200, I2°2, U04—6, 1208-11, 1215, 1217, 1219, 1220, 1221, 1226, I236, '239, I259, '26o, 1270, 1272, 1273, 1277, I29‘, '3°°, '3°', '3°4-6, '313, 1319, '324 Amador de los Rios, Rodrigo, 1240, 1241, I279, '324

Ambrosius, Saint, Bishop of Milan, 25, 454,

887, '244 Ammonites, 506, 884, 1258 Ampurias, 1286 Amram (Babylonian Gaon), 1190 Amsterdam, 1073 Anahita, 1178 Ananias, son of Onias, 9 Anaya, Diego de, 272—75, 282, 1103, 1135, 1218, 1314 Anchias, Juan de, 1166 Andalusia, 127-28, 130-31, 144, 146, 148, 154, 169, 231, 287, 290, 292, 334, 414, 415, 797, 804-5, 809, 812, 853, 918-20, 1006, 1088, 1097 Andreae, Joannes, 500, 1231, 1251, 1257, 1324 Andujar, 151 Angleria, Pedro Martir de, 1324 Anselm of Laon, 543 Antequera, 188 Antioch, 26, 37, 1180 Antiochus III, 1180 Antipater, 12, 1181 antisemitism antisemitism related to dispersion, 5ff different opinions of its beginning, 5, 14-15 common roots of Jew hatred, 43, 66-67 what raised Jew hatred to level of a., 43, 71—72, I28

causes of its birth in subjugated Egypt, 779 similar causes of its birth among Egyptian Greeks, 13—14 major circumstances that prompted its growth, 14 pogrom in Alexandria in 38, 14 state of a. after Apion, 17 Jewish-Greek War of 115—117, 18, 1182 erroneous view of its source, 1182 its main cause, 17-18 impact of war on Greeks’ attitude toward Jews, 18 impact of this attitude on Christianity, 19—20 part played by defamation in a., 25, 128 causes of a. in West and East, 128 conditions facilitating antisemitic outbreaks, 127 See also Jews; Visigoths Antist, V. J., 1203, 1205, 1324 Antonio, Nicolas, 425, 907, 1272, 1249, 1259, 1266, 1270, 1271, 1289, 1291, 1297, 1302, 1324 Antonio de Alcala, Bishop of Ampurias, 1286

INDEX

Antonio Gonzalez, Francisco, 1324 Antonius of Siena, 431 Apion, 10, 17—18 Aponte, Pedro Jeronimo de, 1281 Applebaum, S., 1324 Aptowitzer, A., 1212, 1324 Aquinas, Thomas, Saint, 168, 477, 478, 480, 5°°, 533-34. 544, 549, 597, 865, 1014,

1238, 1252, 1253, 1261, 1262, 1264, 1268, 1298, ■3°8, 1345 Aquitaine, 1203 Arabs, 54, 56, 59, 1186 Aragon, 54, 69, 72, 94, 101-3, 105, hi—12, 115-16, 121, 127, 146-47, 152-67, 162, 173, 183, 189-90, 201—3, 205—6, 2°9> 212> 256, 263, 279-83, 285, 292-93, 322, 33°, 332-33, 341-42, 418, 487, 590, 748, 759, 822, 922, 955, 977, 981, 1001, 1008, 1021-22, 1034, 1079, 1088-90, 1095, 1098-99, 1101, 1104, 033-35, 064, 1166, 069, 070, 1208 Arama, Isaac, 929, 931, 1303, 1324 Aranda, Pedro, Bishop of Calahorra, 1024 Araviana, 102 Arbol genealogico de los reyes de Castilla y de Leon, 651 Arbues, Pedro, 1164-71, 1319, 1320 Arevalo, Nuno de, 619, 620, 1057 Arians, 24, 47, 50, 087, 1257 Arias Davila, Diego, 716, 733, 748, 756, 961, 1282 Arias Davila, Juan, Bishop of Segovia, 733, 788, 1022, 1024 Arias Davila, Pedro, 787-89, 961, 996 Aristeas, Letter of, 078-79, 1324 Aristides, 17 Aristotle, 168, 525, 559, 863, 1264, 1268, 1324 Arius, 24, 575 Arles, 60 Armenians, 434 Armistead, S. G., 1334 Armleders, 16 Arragel, Moses, 1315, 1324 Artaxerxes II, King of Persia, 078 Artaxerxes III, King of Persia, 078 Ashtor, Eliyahu, 091, 1222, 1324 Asia Minor, 4 Assimilation; intermarriage impact of assimilation on conversos’ self-defense, 659 conversos’ view of assimilation, 420, 725 Council of Basle urged intermarriage of Old and New Christians, 276 intermarriage in first half of 15th century, 416, 988

[ 1353

intermarriage under the Inquisition, 1070-71 rise of ethnically mixed merchant communities, 1071 disappearance of the conversos, 1072-73 Assyria, 5, 1177 Astorga, 201, 963, 1100 Asturias, 54, 61 Athanasius, 23 Atienza, 305 Augustine, Saint, 442, 452, 460-65, 493, 529-34, 54°, 544-45, 553, 860-61, 866, 882, 1250-52, 1255, 1256, 1261, 1262, 1264, 1297, 1298, 1231, 1324 Augustus, Emperor, 1181 Auletes, see Ptolemy XIII Aurispa, Giovanni, 423 Avaris, 8 Averroes, 211 Averroism, 211—12 Avenxuxen, Avomar, 65 Avignon, 172-74, 1201 Avi-Jonah, M., 1184, 1324 Avila, 69, 201, 229, 810, 1090, 1100 Avila, Fernando de, 345-46, 348, 655, 1192, 1233, 1241, 1283 Aviram, 199 Avner of Burgos, see Alfonso de Valladolid Ayala, Diego Lopez de, 231 Ayala, Fernan Perez de, 776-80 Ayala, Pero Lopez de, Chancellor of Castile and historian, 97, 98, 99, 101, 103, 144, 147, 298,

651, 1195-99,

i2°4, 1222, 1304,

>325 Ayala, Pero Lopez de, Governor of Toledo, the Older (el Viejo), 298-303 Ayala, Pero Lopez de, Governor of Toledo, the Younger (el Mozo), 776, 778, 782, 783, 785, 79i, 792, '287 Ayllon, 190, 197-99 Azcona, Tarsicio de, 719, 1013, 1021-22, 1239, 1283, 1307—11, 1325

Baal, 478 Babylonia, 5-6, 1178, 1179 Babylonians, 466 Bachrach, B. S., 1189, 1325 Badajoz, 764, 1311 Baer, F. Y., no, 122-23, 196, 212, 933, 1088, 1097, 1166-68, 1180, 1191—98, 1200-1202, 1203-6, 1208, 1210-13, 1216, 1217, 1221, 1259, 1284, 1285, 1294, 1303-5, 1309, 1312—14, 1319, 1325

13 J 4 ]

INDEX

Baena, 334 Baetica, 1184 Baeza, 131, 619 Bagohi, 1179 Balaguer, V., 102, 112, 1197, 1198, 1269, 1302, 1308, 1319, 1323 Baldus de Ubaldis, 123-7 Balenchana, Jose Antonio de, 126/, 1266 Ballesteros y Beretta, A., 71, 719, 1193, 1197, 1216, 1277, 1325 Ballester y Castell, Rafael, 905, 1323 Balme, 1216 Barak, 471 Barcelona, 34, 60-61, 69, 74, 153, 137-39, 160, 162, 166, 180, 189, 202, 211, 816, 964, 1190, 1x91, 1196, 1198, 1290 Baron, Salo W., 66-67, >>84, 1186, 1193, 1208, 1212, 1213, 1323 Barrachina, Gaspar de, 964 Barrientos, Lope de, Bishop of Cuenca, 294, 342> 349. 385. 396-98, 413, 421, 487, 610-12, 613-17, 619, 640, 646-30, 638, 699, 710, 712, 748, 738, 933, 938, 939, 948, 930,

99996, 998, 1207, 1217, 1221, 1230, 1232, I233> ,24°. I242> I243, I253> >27°, 227C *299, 1303, 1306 theologian, prelate and statesman, 610 his patriotism and loyalty to the Crown, 610 his defense of the conversos, 397 rumored to be of Jewish origin, 611 evidence shows he was Old Christian, 610—12, 613 why Relator sent him his “Instruction,” 393-94, 3989-90, 202—6, 279, 422, 683, 763, 1099, 1103-3, 1219, 1313 crowned as Pope in 1394, 172 assigned important tasks to Paul of Burgos, 172 appointed him bishop of Cartagena, 174 what prompted his campaign to convert Spain’s Jews, 183 chose Vicente Ferrer to lead it, 183 Ferrer’s position on forced conversion, 184 demanded removal of Jews from Christian boroughs, 183 background of demand related to B., 183- 86 B. and disputation at Tortosa, 202 B. and laws of 1412, 203 Aragon moves to depose him, 203 Paul supports move, 203—6 B. appoints Paul bishop of Burgos, 203 Paul severs his relations with B., 206 see also Paul of Burgos Benito Ruano, Eloy, 384, 388, 1107-9, 1207, 1222, 1223-23, 1229, 1230, 1232, 1236, 1240, >24>, I243> »2J3> >257, >267, >27.f, >276, 1281, l287, >3>5, i326 Benjamin, Tribe of, 461 Berenike, 12 Bergenroth, G. A., 1308, 1326 Bernaldez, Andres, 1033—34, 1091, 1137-40, 1055, »53> >3°2, >3°4, >3°9, >3>5, >3'7, >3>9, 1320, 1326 author of history of the Catholic Kings, "37

curate of Los Palacios under Diego de Deza, then Archbishop of Seville, 1137 ascribed to conversos various social flaws, 1137, 1140

INDEX

related these flaws to their innate tendencies, 1137, 1140 echoes Espina and the Alboraique, 851, 1137 his expectations from the Inquisition, ■°53-54 Bernardino da Feltre, 727-28, 733 Bernardino da Siena, 727—28, 1284 Bernardo, Abbot of Sahagun, 1221 Bernstein, Simon, 1326 Berwick and Alba, Duke of, 1315 Bessarion, Johannes, 906

Beziers, 60 Bienveniste, Abraham, 225, 227-28, 230, 1209 Binder, Karl, 1245-47, 1249, 1326 Black Death, 16, 94, 127, 129, 211, 587, 984, 986 Black Prince, see Edward, son of Edward III Blanca, Queen of Navarre; previously: Princess Blanca, 227 Blanche de Bourbon, Queen of Castile, 99, 1196 Blois, 833 Blood Libel, 733, 833, 947, 1292 Blumenkranz, B., 1326 Bofarull y Sans, Francisco de, 1193, 1326 Bogomilism, 1251 Bohemia, 909 Bohemians, 434 Bonafed, Solomon, 212 Bongiorn, Bonet, 1202 Boniface VIII, Pope, 451, 677, 1013—14, 1269 Borbon, Blanca de, see Blanche de Bourbon Bordona, Dominguez J., 1204, 1227, 1258, 1270, 1282, 1286 Borgia, Cesare, 1031 Borne, L., 1143, 1318, 1326 Boronat y Barrachina, Pascual, 1312, 1326 Bosnia, 452 Bourges, 423, 431 Bracton, Henry de, 518, 526, 597, 683, 692, 693, 694, 699, 707, 1268, 1326 Brandenburg, 1113 Braulio, bishop of Saragossa, Saint, 46, 1189 Brescia, 727 Breslau, 727, 733, 1284 Breviarium, 1186 Bridget of Sweden, Saint, 1248 Briviesca, 113, 163, 205 Brody, H., 1211 Brown, Charlton F., 1292, 1326 Budinszky, Alexander, 1326 Buitrago, 795 Burgos, 76, 103, 113, 116, 151-52. 168-71, 173, 205, 212, 229, 256, 266-69, 341, 345, 432, 5'8.

[ i355

526, 664, 683, 692, 693, 694, 699, 707, 756, 792, 794. 853, 963, 1054, 1100, 1109, 1155, 1203, 1212, 1217, 1276 Burke, U. R., 1308, 1326 Burriel, A. M., 1188, 1213, 1326 Byzantines, 33 Byzantium, 37

Cabbalists, 371 Caballeria, Alfonso de la, 963, 1171 Caballeria, Pedro de la, 977, 1261, 1306 Caballero, Fermin, 620, 933, 1224, 1239, 1271, 1272, 1280, 1326 Cabello y Lapiedra, Luis M., 1240, 1326 Cabezon, 753-54, 758 Cabra, 804 Cabrera, Alonso de, 962 Cabrera, Andres de, 809-12, 962 Caesar, Gaius Julius, 12, 1181 Qag de la Maleha, 73, 105 Cagigas, Isidro de, 1326 Cahen, C., 1191, 1326 Cain, 529 Calahorra, 113, 963 Calatayud, 112, 1196 Calatrava, Order of, 345, 649, 668, 1230, '3 >5 Calixtus III, Pope, 424 Callinicum, 24—25 Camillo, Ottavio di, 1260, 1327 Canary Islands, 520 Candal, Emmanuel, 1245, 1248, 1249 Canete, 757 Cantera Burgos, F., 197, 692-95, 697, 699, 933, 1196, 1198, 1202-4, 1206, 1208, 1211, 1216, 1217, 1225, 1259, 1260, 1272, 1278, 1290, 1300, 1301, 1304, 1305, 1327 Cantillana, 139 Capistrano, Giovanni da, 727-28, 733, 1284 Cappa, Ricardo, 1027, 1327 Carlyle, A. J., 1268, 1327 Carlyle, R. W., 1327 Carmona, 149, 259, 740-42, 766, 772, 774, 800, 812, 898, 912, 914, 1134, 1149, 1214 Caro, Isaac, 930 Caro, Joseph, 1237 Caro Baroja, Julio, 1245, 1302, 1327 Carolingians, 59, 71 Carreras y Candi, 1290, 1327 Carrete Parrondo, Carlos, 1327 Carriazo, Juan de Mata, 631, 637, 1207-9, 1219, 1220, 1234, 1241, 1256, 1260, 1266, 1267,

!3J6 ]

INDEX

Carriazo, Juan de Mata (cont.) 1271-73, 1275, 1277, 1278, 1281, 1289, 1300, >3°', *3°3» '3°5, >3°6, >3°9, 3>6, '3*7. 1318, 1327 Carrillo, Juan, 721, 735 Carrillo de Acuna, Alfonso, Archbishop of Toledo, 287, 649, 699, 700, 735, 748-5-1, 756, 758, 768-69, 786-87, 789, 856-57, 896, 917, 920-21, 1024, 1056, 1228, 1232 Carrillo de Huete, Pero, 233, 287, 380, 628-31, 638, 639, 1327 Cartagena, 186 Cartagena, Alfonso de, see Cartagena, Alonso de Cartagena, Alonso de, Bishop of Burgos, 278, 331, 517-78, 606, 607, 611, 616, 620, 621, 637, 651, 658, 672, 680, 684, 686, 688, 690, 692-99, 701, 704, 705, 708, 717, 773, 858-64, 866, 868-70, 873-75, 877—79, 881-82, 889, 892, 896, 906, 933, 938, 950, 963> 978, 980, 987, 998, 1003, 1073, 1210, 1217, 1219, 1220, 1224, 1229, 1232, 1233, 1239, 1259, 1261, 1262, 1264-67, 1270, 1271, 1272, >274, >275, I278, 2297, I299> 3°6, >327 Spanish authors on C., 517-18 his education in Salamanca, 519 represents Castile in Council of Basle, 520 appointed bishop of Burgos, 520 opposes deposition of Pope, 522—523 seeks compromise between Council and Papacy, 521 theoretical background of his position, 525 joins campaign in defense of conversos, 527

stresses their moral and religious innocence, 572-73 claims their enemies seek their annihilation, 573 considers race theory a heresy, 575 his view of Church history opposed to Augustine’s, 531 the historical task of the People of God, 533

the double meaning of “Israel” in the Bible, 540 stresses that Jesus came to save “Israel” the people, 537 the Jews’ redemption and the evidence of history, 544 is the Jewish people to blame for Crucifixion?, 548 accepts view of three kinds of nobility, 562

predicts disappearance of all national distinctions, 552 foresees persistence of ranks and classes, 555-61, 1264 why converts from Judaism may join noble class, 563—69 his attitude toward the urban oligarchies,

576-77 C. and the anti-Alvaro conspiracy, 693—98 see also Torquemada, Juan de; Valera, Diego de; Oropesa, Alonso de Cartagena, Alvaro de, 694, 695 Cartagena, Pablo de, see Paul of Burgos Cartagena, Pedro de, 694, 695 Carthage, 1184 Casarrubios del Monte, 389 Casimir IV, King of Poland, 1251 Caspe, Castle of, 202 Caspian Sea, 1178 Cassiodorus, Flavius Magnus Aurelius, 1255 Castano, Vicente Manuel, 819 Castile, 54, 63-64, 69, 72, 75, 83, 86-88, 90, 94, 98, 101-9, 113-16, 118, 120-22, 127, I29-3°< >33-34. >46-54. >56-57. >6o, 162, 168-69, >72—75. i77-8i, '83, 185-87, 189-90, 198-99, 201-2, 205-6, 209, 217-21, 223, 225> 227_28, 23^—38, 244, 246, 252, 256-57, 26o, 263-65, 269-73, 277> 279, 282-83, 287, 289, 296, 3°9, 3>9, 32>—22, 329-3°, 332-35, 338-39, 341-42, 348-50, 359, 4>2, 4'8, 487, 489, 517—2>, 523“26, 578, 583, 587, 59°, 601, 608, 610, 652, 656, 657, 662, 666, 668, 669, 673, 674, 676, 677, 679, 680, 682-87, 689-93, 7°4, 7°9, 938, 947, 951-55, 959, 963, 97>, 981, 986, 988, 995, 1001, 1002, 1003

Castilla, chief courier of Castile’s Juan II, 699, 700 Castilla, Pedro de, Bishop of Palencia,

666 Castillo, Hernando de, 425, 431, 432, 1246, 1248, 1327 Castillo y Mayone, Joaquin del, 1019, 1023, 1308, 1316, 1327 Castro, 140 Castro, Americo, 818, 907, 933, 975-76, 980, 999-1000, 1192, 1291, 1297, 1298, 1300, 1302, 1305, 1306, 1327 Castrojeriz, 54, 66, 68, 1188, 1191, 1213 Castroreinaldo, 174 Castro y Rossi, Adolfo de, 903, 1019, 1023, 1033, 1241, 1301, 1309, 1311, 1328 Catalina, Infanta, sister of King Juan II, 220, 229, 23>

N D E X

Catalina, Queen of Castile, daughter of the Duke of Lancaster; Regent of Castile, 169, 174, 187, 189-206, 218-20, 223-24,

145. 299> 73°. 73.

1217

Catalina Garcia, Juan, 1197, 1198, 1328 Catalonia, 54, 94, 202, 211, 749, 765, 1001, 1021, 1130, 1192, 1282, 1314 Cavalleria, Petrus de la, see Caballeria, Pedro de Cave, Guilielmus, 1289, 1328 Cazalla, 149 Celantia, 879 Celts, 29 Qerda, Luis de la, 678 Cerezuela, Fernando de, 1228 Cesarini, Julio, Cardinal, 424 Ceuta, 1126 Chabas, R., 1314, 1328 Chabot.J. B., 1184, 1328 Charles, R. H., 191, 1180, 1328 Charles the Great, Emperor, 59-61 Charles II, the Bald, King of France, 1190 Charles V, Emperor (Carlos I, King of Spain), in, 1021-22, 1036, 1161, 1311 Charles VI, King of France, 172 Charles VII, King of France, 423 Chatelain, A., 1246, 1329 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 1291, 1292, 1328 Chavel, Charles Ber, 1215 Chazan, R., 1201, 1328 Chia, Julian de, 1202, 1328 China, 60 Chindaswinth, Gothic King of Spain, 39—40,

5° Chintila, Gothic King of Spam, 38-39, 47, 51 Chlodwig, Frankish King of Gaul, 561 Chlothar II, Frankish King of Gaul, 31-32 Christiaensz, Pieter Bor, 1312, 1328 Chrysostom, John, Saint, 24, 453, 879, 887,

[ 1357 opposed outside interference in their internal affairs, 74 demanded abolition of separate courts for Jews, 88—89 requested limitation of nobles’ judicial rights, 88 their view of tax farming, 75 their position on tax collection, 75 main reasons for their position on this issue, 82 their attitude toward public offices, 83 asked for right to veto all Court appointments, 83 were denied representation in royal Council, 244 achieved breakthrough under Juan I, 244 were barred from the Council by Enrique III, 245 their requests to join Council refused by Juan II, 245 blamed Alvaro and con versos for Juan II’s attitude, 246 forbade Jews to acquire landed property in their territories, 90 imposed similar prohibitions on nobles

and clerics, 90 City of God, 530, 531 Ciudad Real, 186, 330, 658, 772, 946, 952, 1005-6, 1068, 1230, 1242, 1282, 1297 Civil War, Castilian (1366-1369), 361 Claudius, Emperor, 10, 1179 Clearchus, 17, 1179 Clemencfn, D., 1302 Clement V, Pope, 175 Clement VI, Pope, 137, 1291 Clement VII, Pope, 172, 1212 Cleopatra II, Queen of Egypt, 9 Cleopatra III, Queen of Egypt, 9 Cleopatra VI, Queen of Egypt, 12, 1181

1251, 1255, 1328 Church Fathers, 405, 475, 559 Cibdad, Juan de la, 317, 391, 498, 1226, 1256 Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 441, 523, 525, 545,

Codera, F., 1191, 1328 Cohen, Jeremy, 1207, 1215, 1216, 1264, 1298,

1250, 1260, 1297, 1328 Cidellus, see Ferrizuel, Joseph ben

1328 Coimbra, 54, 62, 1191 Collayos, Ana de, 431 Colmar, 16 Colmeiro, Manuel, 69, 1193, 1210, 1216, 1268,

Cifuentes, 202, 1206 Cifuentes, Count of, 773—74, 778> 78o> 78z> 784-85, 791, 910-11, 1157 Cigales, 758 Cirot, G., 1266, 1274, 1328 Cisneros, Jimenez de, see Jimenez de Cisneros cities, Castilian source of their constitutional rights, 74

1328 Cohen, Martin A., 1132, 1187, 1215, 1314, 1317,

1328 Colmenares, Diego de, 1205, 1282, 1284, 1289, 1328 Comestor, Petrus, 1264, 1329 Compostela, 519 Constance, 422

13*8]

INDEX

Constantine I (the Great), Emperor, 25, 26, 442, j6i, 1185 Constantinople, 25, 1065-67, 1186 conversos conversion of Jews to Christianity ordered by Emperor Phocas, 26 Emperor Heraclius forces Jews to convert (c. 632), 1186 Sisebut decrees conversion of Spain’s Jews (616), 35, 1187 Dagobert adopts same measure for Gaul (629). 32 Spanish Church Councils’ attitude toward converts, 42-47 riots in Castile and Leon (1109) caused large-scale conversions, 258 “recent converts” denied right to public office, 258, 1213 limitation extended to their offspring, 258 applied to all Jewish converts, 259 similar laws adopted by other cities, 259 strong support of converts in Alfonso X’s legislation, 260-62 his Fuero Real forbids their vilification, 260 the Partidas forbids insults to their lineage, 261 reasons for King’s attitude, 262-64 conversions follow massacres of Civil War (1366-1369), no, 121 converts greeted with old and new abuses, 265 new law enacted to check revilement, 265 riots of 1391 cause massive conversion, 265 hostile reception by Castilian cities, 266-69 royal orders issued in converts’ defense, 268—71 negative attitude toward converts in Aragon, 280 followed by widespread racial discrimination, 281—82 second mass conversion caused by laws of 1412, 201 number of converts c. 1430, 1095—1105 problems confronting converts of 1391, 207—10 their rapid Christianization, 208-09 causes of religious crisis in Spanish Jewry, 212-13 Christianization in course of 15th century, 927-32 conversos’ social progress under Alvaro, 238-39, 242-43

intermarry with nobility, 988 faced with hostility of Old Christian lower classes, 308, 968-69 resented by patricians, 952, 966-67 harassed under Infantes of Aragon, 293 royal cedula of 1444 reasserts Marrano equality, 292 anti-conversos in Toledo stir rebellious movement (1449), 308 charges of political betrayal precede religious accusations, 318—19 first inquisitional trials against conversos, 320, 647, 653 rebels enact anti-converso racist law, 326 conversos launch fierce campaign against it, 392 denounce its supporters as “heretics,” 575 Nicholas V censures anti-converso actions, 336—41 pro-converso “sentence” on execution of Pope’s bull, 665-67 King requests Pope to suspend bull’s execution, 667 reasons for his request, 669 King’s agreement with Toledans ignores converso rights, 673-75 Alvaro accused of betraying the conversos, 708 conclusion of conversos’ conflict with Alvaro, 701, 704 Toledan conversos restored to their rights, 711 anti-converso agitation resumed under Enrique IV, 72^ calls multiply for establishment of Inquisition, 734, 735, 760 violent outbreak against conversos in Toledo (1467), 780-85 regime of Sentencia reinstalled, 785 later canceled by King Enrique, 792 new outbreaks shatter Andalusia’s peace, 798-804 rule of Sentencia established in Cordova, 803 conversos settle in Gibraltar, 805 Ferdinand and Isabella endeavor to restore rule of law, 1007 conversos gain ascendance in their administration, 920 but tension is renewed in Toledo and the South, 918—19 Ferdinand and Isabella decide to establish Inquisition, 920 Copinger, W. A., 1298, 1329

INDEX Cordoba, Pedro, Bishop of Cordova, 798, 1122-24, 1126, 1184, 1188, 1199, 1214, 1288, >3°3 Cordova, 149-51, 170, 259, 298, 335, 741, 797-809, 812, 898-99, 910, 912-15, 917-18, 92°, 946, 952, 967, 1005-6, 1035-36, 1040, 1054, 1072, 1088, 1122 Coria, 139, 769 Corral, Le6n de, 1280, 1329 Corsica, 998 Cortes of Alcala de Henares (1348), 70, 95, 593, 624, 1195, 1196, 1205 Cortes of Avila (1420), 229 Cortes of Briviesca (1387), 593, 596 Cortes of Burgos (1301), 1193, 1194, 1210, 1430 Cortes of Burgos (1307), 1194, 1205 Cortes of Burgos (1315), 1193 Cortes of Burgos (1317), 1198 Cortes of Burgos (1345), 1196 Cortes of Burgos (1367), 972, 1194, 1205 Cortes of Burgos (1373), 1195 Cortes of Burgos (1377), 1194, 1198, 1205 Cortes of Cadiz (1812-1813), 1018, 1086 Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes

of Carrion (1317), 79, 1193 of Dedina del Campo (1305), 1193, 1195 of Haro (1288), 75-76, 1193 of Madrid (1329), 80, 244-45, 1194

Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes

of Madrid of Madrid of Madrid of Medina

(1405), 175 (1419), 221, 1209, 1210 (1435), 1210 del Campo (1305), 78, 1193

Cortes of Ocana (1469), 972 Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes Cortes

of Olmedo (1445). 594. 59®, 7°6, 1002 of Palencia (1286), 1194, 1195 of Palencia (1313), 79, 84, 90, 1193-95 of Palencia (1431), 593 of Palenzuela (1425), 245, 1209, 1210 of Soria (1380), 122, 132, 1134, 1198, 1199 of Toledo (1480), 619, 922, 1302 of Toro (1371), 81, 86, 244, 1194, 1198,

1209 Cortes of Valladolid (1293), 76, 88, 1193-95 Cortes of Valladolid (1295), 83 Cortes of Valladolid (1307), 78, 1193, 1195 Cortes of Valladolid (1312), 79, 84, 90,1194,1195 Cortes of Valladolid (1322), 1193-95 Cortes of Valladolid (1351), 95, 185, 252, 824, 825, 1194, 1196, 1205 Cortes of Valladolid (1385), 1194, 1205 Cortes of Valladolid (1405), 194, 1205 Cortes of Valladolid (1440), 1242 Cortes of Valladolid (1442), 91, 1195, 1210 Cortes of Valladolid (1447). 9'. H95> I2I0> 1268

[ *359

Cortes of Valladolid (1451), 91, 1195 Cortes of Zamora (1301), 89, 245, 1193-95 Cortes of Zamora (1432), 90, 1195, 1210 Coruna, 334-35, 341 Cota, Alfonso, 309-10, 586, 640, 652, 653, 973, 1225, 1226 Cota, Francisco de, 961 Cotarelo, E., 1225, 1328 Cotarelo y Valledor, Armando, 1309, 1329 Coulton, G. G., 1016, 1308, 1329 Council of Agde (506), 507, 849, 1235 .Council of Basle (1431—1443), 276-77, 280, 283, 404, 423, 426-29, 520-22, 525, 526, 601-3, 684, 686, 993, 998, 1118 Council of Beziers (1246), 1218 Council of Chalcedon, Fourth Ecumenical (451). "87 Council of Chalons-sur-Saone (c. 639-654), 3> Council of Clermont, Third (535), 31 Council of Constance (1417), 205-6, 422, 426, 52I> Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council Council

525> 997-98, 1249 of Constantinople (381), 24 of Elvira (c. 306), 29, 1184-86, 1206 of Laodicea (c. 341—381), 1186 of Macon (581), 31 of Narbonne (1227), 1218 of Nicaea (1325), 22-24, ii85 of Orleans, Third (538), 30 of Orleans, Fourth (541), 31 of Palencia (1388), 185, 186, 198, 1205 of Paris, Fifth (614), 31 of Pisa (1409), 180 of Rheims (c. 627), 31 of Toledo, Third (589), 34, 41, 49,

83. 5°7 Council of Toledo, Fourth (633), 42-43, 49-50, 367, 400, 507, 569, 571, 616, 626-38, 1014, 1133 Council of Toledo, Sixth (638), 38 Council of Toledo, Seventh (646), 52, 56 Council of Toledo, Eighth (653), 39 Council of Toledo, Twelfth (683), 51, 1189 Council of Toledo, Seventeenth (694), 1190 Council of Tortosa (1429), 1135 Council of Zamora (1313), 91 Cowley, A. E., 1328 Creighton, M., 1246, 1249, 1261, 1329 Crenius, T., 1328 Crescas, Hasday, 160, 173, 209, 1095-96, 1199—1201, 1329 Cretans, 470, 471 Cronica Abreviada, 103 Cronica Castellano de Enrique IV, 897, 1128, 1329

1360 ]

INDEX

Cronica de Calatrava, 1128 Cronica de Don Alvaro de Luna, 683, 694, 696-99, 1329

Defensorium Unitatis Christianae, 527—37, 540,

Cronica de Enrique IV, 699, 897, 904—5, 1330,

Delgado Merchan, L., 1210, 1226, 1230, 1304,

1329 Cronica del Halconero de Juan II, 287—88, 290-91, 305, 316, 328, 334, 628-32, 634,

*3°5, >329 Denifle, H. S., 1215, 1246, 1329 Desniniga, Alvaro, see Estuniga, Alvaro de Deza, Diego de, Archbishop of Toledo, Inquisitor General, 1037, 1059, 1061, 1137 Diaz de la Costana, Pero, 1155 Diaz de Mendoza, Rodrigo, 824 Diaz de Mendoza, Rui, 696, 698 Diaz de Montalvo, Alonso, 619—27, 658, 938-41, 1188, 1213, 1237, 1271, 1272, 1279,

635. 637—42, 644, 645, 648, 1207, 1208, 1210, 1220, 1222—25, I228, i229 Cronica de Juan II de Castilla, 197, 226, 234—35, 284, 287-90, 300, 304, 321, 347, 629, 639-49. 652-54, 698, 702, 897, 1106-7, 1109, 1205, 1207, 1219, 1227, 1273, 1274, 1281,

,

1340

Cronica de los Reyes Catolicos, 901—3, 1340, 1346 Cronica del Rey Don Alfonso el Onceno, 1329 Cronicoti de Valladolid, 1225, 1231, 1240, 1243, 1329 Crusaders, 1201 Crusades, 15-16, 55 Cruz, Juan de la, 431 Cuarta Cronica General, 143, 150, 651, 653, 656, 1199, 1200, 1226, 1228, 1274, 1283 Cuellar, 285 Cuenca, 100—101, 151, 272 Cueva, Beltran de la, Count of Ledesma, 74i. 7S°~Sl> 753. 755. 757. 764> 796 Qulema, Don (Solomon ben Zadoq), 65 Cummins, P., 1284 Cusa, Nicholas of, 426 Cyprian, Saint, 1184 Cyprus, 9, 11, 18, 1183 Cyrenaica, 11, 18, 1183 Cyrene, 7, 1180

Cyril of Alexandria, Saint, 25

D’Abadal i de Vinyals, Ramon, 1196, 1329 Dagobert, Frankish King of Gaul, 32, 1186 Dahn, F., 40-41, 1188, 1189, 1329 Daiches, S. 1178, 1329 D’Ailly, Pierre, 426 Damocritus, 17 D’Andrea, Giovanni, see Andreae, Joannes Dante, 579 Danvila, F., 155, 1200, 1202, 1329 Daroca, 1168 Dathan, 199

548, 554. 557, 578, 621, 672, 858-59, 1207, 1210, 1217, 1220, 1224, 1229, 1297

I297, I299> >33° born in Arevalo to an Old Christian family, 619—20 studied law in Salamanca, 619 gained fame as expert jurist, 619 wrote a tract on anti-converso persecution, 620 considered the conversos true Christians, 621 regarded their detractors as “schismatics,” 621 considered all race divisions groundless, 622 argued that Christ’s promise applied to all men, 622 Scripture assures the Jews’ salvation, 623 their salvation attested by their converts, 624 Judaizers are a nonrepresentative fringe group, 625 conversos’ adversaries moved by malice and hatred, 626 will persist in their adherence to heretical doctrines, 627 M. advocated strong measures to suppress them, 627 Diaz de Montalvo, Gonzalo, 34 Diaz de Toledo, Alonso, 961 Diaz de Toledo, Fernan, 385—93, 396, 400, 4OI> 4". 4*4. 420> 476, 489. 527> 57°. 575. 611-12, 615, 617-21, 650, 658, 667, 672, 673, 680, 687, 698, 700-705, 708, 710, 716-17, 732> 77o-7i. 773.

David, King, 20, 471, 491, 539, 563, 581 Davis, Gifford, 1001, 1329 Daza, Antonio, 1303, 1329 Daza, Juan de, 1040

785-86, 859, 877, 887-88, 901, 933. 95°. 961-62, 978, 986, 988, 995-96, 998, 1115, 1123, 1217, 1220, 1221, 1224, 1229, 1232, 1236, 1240-42, 1244, 1251, 1254, 1256, 1268, 1271, 1278, 1279, 1281, 1299, 1304, 1305, 1330 family and education, 385

De Clerq, V. C., 1185, 1329 Decretum, 424, 431, 650, 1274

joins royal administration under Mendoza, 385-86

N D E X

assumes office of Relator under Alvaro, 386 becomes favorite and confidant of Juan II, 387

seen as Alvaro’s advocate, 388 becomes target of Alvaro’s enemies, 388 hated by anti-conversos. 390 proofs that he was no Judaizer, 391 assumes defense of conversos, 392 writes for this purpose a special paper, 393 labels racism a “great heresy,” 407 stresses its danger to noble class, 416 became Alvaro’s foe during Toledan crisis, 700-701 his share in the conspiracy against Alvaro, 701—4 continued as Relator under Enrique IV,

li6 see also Cartagena, Alonso de; Torquemada, Juan de Diaz de Toledo, Luis, 700, 770, 786, 1278, 1279, 1286 Diaz Martin, L. Vincente, 1329, 1346 Diaz y Diaz, Luis A., 858-59, 1276, 1285, 1295, 1297, 1300, 1330, 1339 Dill, S., 1186, 1329 Dinur, B., 1329 Dio Cassius, 1182, 1183, 1329 Diocletian, Emperor, 1185 Disputation of Barcelona, 1215 Disputation of Tortosa, 204-5, 212, 279 Divine Right of Kings, 595, 601 Dollinger, JJ.I, 1248, 1249, 1330 Dominguez Bordona, J., 1204, 1230, 1249, 1259, 1271, 1277, 1299, 1300, 1301, 1303, 1315 Dominguez Ortiz, Antonio, 1013, 1019-21, 1103, 1140, 1239, 1307-9, 1312, 1313, 1315, 1330 Dominican Order, 422, 423, 431 Dominicans, 262-64, 727, 737, 918 Dormer, Diego Iosef, 1302, 1330 Dositheos, 9 Dozy, R., 1190, 1191, 1210, 1211, 1330 Duero, 194, 292 Duke of Lancaster, see John of Gaunt Duke of Orleans, 174 Duns Scotus, Joannes, 1014, 1308, 1330 Duran, Profiat, 209, 1202, 1204, 1208, 1330 Duran, Solomon, 411 Durango, 414, 655, 899

Kbro, 103 Echard, Jacques, see Quetif-Echard Ecija, 139, 142, 149

[ 1361

Edict of Grace, 1074, 1156, 1160-61, 1163 Edom, 622 Edomites, 436, 437, 449, 506, 884-85 Edward, son of Edward III; Prince of Wales, 115-16 Edward III, King of England, 115 Egica, Gothic King of Spain, 41, 52, 53, 56, 400, 1190 Egypt- 5—>4. >6, 927. II24- n79- "8°, 1183, 1192 Egyptians, 6-8, 10, 13, 15, 17, 502, 503, 506, 884—85 .Eisenmenger, J. A., 1290 Elders of Zion, 362 Election (of Israel), 532, 554, mi-12 Elephantine (Jeb), 5-7, 1178, 1179 Eliezer ben Yoel Halevi, 1212 Elijah, 466, 467 Elliott, J. A., 1330 Emerson, 1268 Enelow, H. G., 1222, 1330 England, 55-56, 69, in, 115, 130, 169-70, 172, 212, 520 Enrique, Infante of Aragon, 220, 224, 227-29, 231, 234, 236, 238, 292, 298,386,389,520, 606 Enrique II, King of Castile; previously Enrique, Count of Trastamara, 81, 85-86, 90, 98-104, hi, 113-19, 121-25, 129, 131-34, 137, 139, 176, 185, 218, 244-45, 297298, 299, 972, 1198, 1199 son of Leonor, Alfonso XI’s mistress, 94 tended to rebel after his mother’s execution, 94 joined opposition against King Pedro, 96 planned to seize Toledo, 97 entered city with aid of local partisans, 97 massacred Jews of smaller Juderia, 98 purpose of massacre, 98 besieged Toledo’s main Juderia, 99 forced to retreat upon Pedro’s arrival, 99 received from King safe-conduct to France, 101 calumniated Pedro as Jew, 102 became ally of Aragon in war with Castile, 102 massacred Jews of Najera and Miranda de Ebro, 103 invaded Castile with French mercenaries, ”3

his mercenaries killed Jews of Briviesca, crowned as King at Burgos, 113 altered his policy toward Jews, 114 made Pichon and Abravanel his financial managers, 114

1

3 6 2 ]

INDEX

Enrique II, King of Castile (cont.) defeated by Pedro’s English allies, ny reinvaded Castile with French aid, 116 resisted by Jews of Burgos and Toledo, 116—17 imposed huge fines on both communities, "7. appointed Pichon Contador Mayor, 117 criticized by Cortes for pro-Jewish attitude (1371), 118 yielded on non-substantive matters, 119 took a similar stand in 1377, 120 rebuked and threatened Ferran Martinez, , '3I-32 E. as seen from a moral standpoint, 125 see also Martinez, Ferran; Pichon, Joseph; Pedro I Enrique III, King of Castile, 70, 169, 173-78, 181, 185, 189, 194, 228, 244-46, 249, 265-66, 268-70, 338, 402, 403, 626, 631, 679, 961, 1199, 1204, 1208, 1217, 1293, 1304 Enrique IV, King of Castile; previously Prince Enrique, 238, 321-22, 328, 330, 334~35, 344, 347-5°, 386, 389, 393> 39C 402, 486, 512, 513, 520, 586-88, 606, 610, 6n, 619, 630, 631, 644, 645, 648-51, 662-65, 668, 669, 672-74, 678, 680, 700,

710, 715-26, 729-32, 733-739, 741, 743-53, 755, 757-59, 76', 763-67, 769—7*, 858,

897-98, 9°°, 9°5-7, 9lo~n> 9>6, 938, 947, 95*, 956, 960-63, 987, 996, 1006-7, ion, 1023, 1037, 1106, 1122, 1127-30, 1157, 1221, 1233, 1284 as Prince was guided by Pacheco, his favorite, 322 was reputed to be politically unstable, 322

entered Toledo after issuance of Sentencia, 328 failed to react to new law, 329 removed Sarmiento from his position, 348 supported anti-converso Toledans, 669 disenchanted with Pacheco during Toledan rebellion, 746 took new view of government as king, 717-18

his political philosophy, 720-21, 794-95 his uncommon habits, 7I7—i8 offered strong defense of threatened Jews, 73I_32

failed to punish anti-Marrano pogromists (•462), 740-41 Catalonians asked E. to become their king, 749

treacherous counsels of Pacheco and Carrillo, 749 both leave Court in fear of E., 749 claim E. is impotent and Queen unfaithful, 750 Pacheco attempts to abduct King, 751-52 issue of succession becomes public knowledge, 753 E. agrees to be succeeded by his half brother Alfonso, 753—54 conditions this on Alfonso’s marriage to his daughter, 753 refuses to appoint Pacheco head of administration, 755 conspirators intensify campaign against King, 756-57 charged King with support of “infidels,” 756

Barrientos counsels war against maligners, 758 E. rejects his advice; yields to Pacheco,

758 five-member committee plans policy revisions, 758 considers problem of “bad Christians,” 760 recommends episcopal Inquisition, 762 urges enforcement of Catalina’s laws, 763 E. rejects committee’s proposals, 764 he is deposed in Avila, 768 Alfonso is enthroned, 768 converso security deteriorates by kingdom’s division, 770 Old/New Christian tension grips Toledo,

. 771

city becomes battlefield of conflicting groups (1467), 780-83 Sentencia-Estatuto reestablished in Toledo, 784

Segovia falls to rebels, 788 royal treasure in their hands, 789 Ayala’s change of attitude toward E., 79' city restored to E.’s obedience, 792 death of Alfonso moves grandees to E.’s side, 792 E. convinced of his wife’s promiscuity,

796 agrees to recognize Isabella as heiress, 792 93 disregards Juana’s interests, 795 sees no justification for continued war, 79 6

INDEX

reappoints Pacheco head of administration, 793 restores converso rights in Toledo, 792 anti-converso storm sweeps Andalusia, 798—805 E. did nothing to punish offenders, 812 assumed that punishment would worsen situation, 812-13 believed in time and patience, 813 E. died in December 1474, probably poisoned, 1127-30 Enriquez del Castillo, Diego, 716-17, 720-22, 742, 745, 753, 765, 794, 796, 812, 897, 996, 1010, 1127-28, 1282, 1283, 1285-89, 1296, 1300, 1306, 1315, 1317, 1330 Enriquez, Alfonso, Admiral of Castile, 221-22 Enriquez, Fadrique, son of Alfonso Enriquez; Admiral of Castile, 389, 1269 Ephesus, 483 Ephraem Syrus, 24 Epimenides, 1255 Erwig, Gothic King of Spain, 50-52, 1190 Esau, 436, 531, 622, 866 Escalona, 66, 68, 702, 810 Escandell Bonet, B., 1340 Escavias, Pedro de, 897, 1282, 1284, 1300, 1330 Escobedo, Fernando, 777-78, 797 Escolano, Caspar, 1200, 1330 Especulo or Espejo, 591, 1266 Espina, Alonso de, 360, 362, 371, 680, 726—35, 737, 740-43, 761, 763, 814-39, 842-47, 853, 858, 872, 919, 946-47. 95'. 996, io°9. io87. 1090, 1131-32, 1137, 1187, 1188, 1205, 1228, 1235, 1259, 1285, 1289-93, 1306, 1318, 1330 Esteve Barba, Francisco, 1330 Esther, 1178, 1251, 1280 Estuniga, Alvaro de, son of Count of Plasencia, 698, 704, 707, 758, 768 Estuniga, Diego Lopez de, 699, 704, 707 Estuniga, Pedro de, Count of Plasencia, 668, 699—701, 707, 1266, 1280 Ethiopia, 1178, 1179 Ethiopians, 5 Euergetes II, see Ptolemy IX Eugene IV, Pope, 274, 279, 424, 426, 427, 452, 521, 522, 525, 676, 686, 729, 977, 1135, 1208, 1209, 1248, 1249 Eusebius, Pope, 1250 Eusebius of Caesarea, 1178, 1182, 1183, 1330 Evaristus, Pope, 624 Extremadura, 79, 1194 Eymeric, Nicolaus, 1257, 1331 Ezekiel, 414, 454. 892. 9z8> I245> l25'> '3°3 Ezra, 1178

[ 136 3

Fabie, Antonio Maria, 907, 1302, 1331 Fabricius, J. A., 1331 Fadrique de Aragon, Count of Luna, 232, 283-84, 286-88, 291, 306, 322, 333-34, 629, 1220 Fages, H., 1205, 1206, 1331 Felipe, Infante, 84-85 Felix V (anti-Pope), 428 Feltre, Bernardino da, see Bernardino da Feltre Ferdinand, King of Sicily, King of Aragon (II) and Castile (V), 3, 279, 619, 811, 916-17, 921-22, 963-64, 1005-7, 1010-11, 1015, 1018-25, 1029, 1030, 1035, 1037-39, 1061—63, 1068, 1079, 1088—89, 1091, 1122, 1126-27, 1129-30, 1157, 1158,. 1165-66, 1169, 1170, 1172, 1283, 1286 his secret marriage to Isabella, 797 overcame outside aggression, 916, 921 helped Isabella stabilize Kingdom, 916 was no racist, 1017 nor a religious fanatic, 1031 _ was architect of Inquisition, 1018, and in fact controlled it, 1028-29 scholars differ on his inquisitional performance, 1012—30 Italian historians’ opinions of his motives, 1018 views of Llorente and his Spanish followers, 1018—19 theory advanced by leading German scholars, 1023 analysis of this theory, 1023-27 later historians: F.’s main motive was religious, 1019 feebleness ofjudaizers negates this view, 932 . F. excluded emotions from politics, 1033

placed high value on public opinion, 1032—39 endeavored to appear moral, 1031 32 wished to be considered guardian of religion, 1031, 1034 ) sought to appear confident of Inquisitors right judgments, 1032 his defense of Lucero unmasked him, 1038—40 See also Inquisition Feret, Pierre, 1331 Fernandez de Henestrosa, Juan, 102 Fernandez de Palencia, Alfonso, 905 Fernandez de Torquemada, Pedro, 431 Fernandez Duro, Cesareo, 1309, 1331 Fernandez Manrique, Garcia, 286

136 4

]

INDEX

Fernandez Marmolejo, Francisco, 960, 962 Fernando I, King of Aragon (previously Fernando de Antequera, Regent of Castile), 149, 167, 205-6, 218, 220-22, 224_45. 283, 298, J19. 685, 686, 1189, 1194, 1199, 1202, 1206, 1214, 1220, 1275, 1286, 1301,

Fuero Juzgo, 1236, 1243 Fuero of Cordova (1241), 1216 Fuero of Seville (1250), 1214 Fuero Real, 594, 619, 621, 1236, 1271 Fuks, A., 1182, 1331 Fulda, 833

>3>4 Fernando III, King of Castile, 63, 65, 1188, 1189, 1214, 1216 Fernando IV, King of Castile, 73, 83-84, 90, '74. >75, '87-90, 198-99, 2°2 Fernando Alonso, Benito, 1305, 1331 Ferrara, Orestes, 423, 521, 719, 904, 1283, 1331 Ferrer, Vicente, 183-84, 186-91, 198-203, 205, 727> 7% lo98—99, »oi, 1205, 1222, 1284 Ferrizuel, Joseph ben ha-Nasi, 65, 1222 Figgis, J- N., 601, 602, 1269, 1331 Fita, Fidel, 818, 1149, 1151, 1153, 1177, n88, 1200,

1202, 1210, 1240, 1274, 1282, 1283, 1284, >308, 1310, 1312, 1313, 1319, 1331 Flaccus, 1181 Flanders, 1152 Flannery, E. H., 17, 1331 Floranes, Rafael, 1293, 1331 Florence, 424 Flores, Miguel de, 1241 Florez, Enrique, 1259, .1331 Flusser, D., 1294, Fonseca, Alfonso de, Archbishop of Seville, 699, 748, 79o, 792, 795

Foronda, 1150—51 Fortalitium Fidei, 362, 858, 951, 1289-93 Forum Judicum, 368, 1236, 1258 Foulche-Delbosc, R., 1259, 1260, 1273, 1281, >3°7, >33' Fraga, 1314

Gabinius, 12 Gaillard, G.-H., 1128, 1332 Galicia, 101, 114, 1023 Galindez de Carvajal, Lorenzo, 639, 1273, 1285, 1287, 1288, 1301, 1332 Galindo, P., 1189, 1337 Gallardo, B. J., 1266, 1302, 1332 Gams, P. B., 1027, 1029, 1185, 1217, 1309, 1331 Garcia de Madrid, 1059 Garcia de Mora, Marcos, 307-14, 318, 320, 332> 344. 346- 348. 35>. 392> 4°°. 4°>. 402, 404, 407-10, 415, 417, 433, 486-514, 573-75. 577. 584. 585. 587, 588, 596, 597, 599-604, 611, 612, 615, 618, 653-56, 662, 677, 681, 690, 943, 947, 948, 996, 1002, U07, 1224, 1228, 1233, 1235, 1236, 1239, 1240,

>243. >245. >25>. 1253—55. >257. >258, 1267—68, 1283, 1307 of peasant origin, 307 received legal education, 307 accused of many crimes, 618 was Sarmiento’s legal adviser, 308 showed him way to gain masses’ support, 308 was leading member of Sarmiento’s government, 315

France, 55—56, 61, 69, 101-2, hi, 130, 170, 172, 173, 180—8i, 183, 211, 587, 749, 765, 899, 909, 933, 1231, 1256, 1292

claimed Castile was run by clandestine con verso clique, 489 his theory of how and why it assumed power, 490

Franciscans, 727-28, 734-35, 737, 742-43, 761, 918 Franco, Alfonso, 702, 782 Franco, Juce, 1091 Franks, 30-32, 60, 1191

argued that Jews were condemned by God, 492

Fredegarius, 1186, 1187 Frederick II, Emperor, 825, 1231, 1256 Freedy, K. S., 1179, 1331 Fregenal, 149 Fremantle, W. H., 1265

his view of the Jewish race, 491

claimed that robbing conversos meant retrieval of theft, 496 killing them justified by their treachery, 497 burning them called for by their heresy, 499

G. upheld three major antisemitic concepts, 511

Friedberg, Aemilius, 1243, 1265, 1277, 1308 Fries, Jakob, 1143 Fromesta, 757 Fuensalida, 235, 320, 321-22, 619

terrified by Prince’s plan to deliver Toledo to King, 344-45

Fuensanta del Valle, Marques de la, 651, 1228

sought negotiations with Alvaro, 345

opposed established systems of Church and State, 599, 603

INDEX exposed by Prince Enrique, 346 was caught and executed, 347 Garcia de Quevedo, E., 1259, 1291, 1332 Garcia de Salazar, Lope, 1281 Garcia de Santa Maria, Alvar, 197—98, 241-42, 284, 286-91, 386, 387, 391, 628, 687, 1099-1100, 1209, 1219, 1241, 1260, 1277, '3H, >332 Garcia de Villa Real, Alvar, 716, 1260, 1282, «3H Garcia-Gallo, A., 1188, 1213, 1332 Garcia Rodrigo, F. X., 1027, 1302, 1332 Garcia Villoslada, R., 1291, 1332 Garganta, J. M., 1205, 1245, 1332 Garibay, Estevan de, 270, 1217, 1225, 1290, !293> !332 Garrastachu, J. M., 1248, 1249, 1332 Gascony, 113, 115-16 Gaul, 29-30, 32, 34, 37, 59, 61, 1186 Gayangos, Pascual de, 1266, 1332 Generaciones y Semblanzas, 606, 716, 746-48, 758, 813, 933, 938-41, 948, 950, 995-96, 998, 1106-8, 1115 Genoa, 826—28 Genoese, 964 Germans, 29-30 Germany, 56, 94, 127, 130, 146, 163-64, 170, 181, 212, 264, 829, 909, 1292 Gerona, 157, 167 Geronelia, Castle of, 167 Gerson, John Charlier de, 426 Getino, Luis G. A., 610, 1221, 1242, 1230, 1242, 1243, 1270, 1271, 1303, 1332 Gibraltar, 805, 851, 914, 917, 1122—26, 1152, 1317 Gideon, 471 Gill, Joseph, 1248, 1332 Gimenez, Jose, 1215, 1332 Gino de Solemni, 1266 Ginzberg, L., 1215, 1332 Giovanni d’Andreae, see Andreae, Joannes Girbal, E. C., 1202, 1332 Giron, Pedro, 328, 342, 349, 393, 396, 398, 415, 416, 418, 649, 668, 669, 746-49. 751- 1106, 1128-30 Giron, Rodrigo, 804 Gomez, Manrique, Governor of Toledo, 901—2, 920, 1158, 1160, 1162—64 Gomez Barroso, Pedro, 137—38, 145 Gomez Bravo, Juan, 1288, 1332 Gomez Carrillo, 1197 Gomez de Caceres, 748, 768 Gomez de Cibdad Real, Alvar, 716, 740, 749, 764-66, 768-69, 775-80, 782, 789, 912, 961, 996, 1282, 1287

[ 13 65

Gomez de Cibdareal, Fernan, 1241, 1332 Gomez de la Serna, Pedro, 1189, 1214, 1332 Gomez-Menor, Jose, 1240, 1304, 1312, 1332 Gomez Moreno, Manuel, 1309, 1318 Goni Gaztambide, J., 1105, 1218, 1246, 1314, «3!5, lW Gonzaga, Francesco de, 1289-90, 1332 Gonzalez, J., 1212, 1332 Gonzalez, Pero, 286 Gonzalez Davila, Gil, 1230, 1286, 1333 Gonzalez de Mendoza, Pedro, Bishop of Calahorra and Sigiienza; Cardinal of Spain, 750, 769, 915, 1300 Gonzalez de Toledo, Diego, 960 Gonzalez Jarada, Diego, 961 Gonzalez Martin of Medina, 286 Gonzalez Palencia, A., 421, 1221, 1222, 1333 Gonzalez Pintado, Juan, 962 Gonzalez Ruiz, Ramon, 1303 Gonzalez-Tejada, 1185, 1188, 1189, 1190, 1205, 1235, 1236, 1243, 1258, 1272, 1295 Gonzalo de Ayora, 1309 Gonzalo de Toro, 1310 Goodenough, E. R., 1180, 1333 Gorres, F., 1187, 1190, 1332 Goths, 32, 34, 39-41 Graetz, H., 35, 38-39, 191, i97“98, 241_42> z84> 286-91, 688-89, 691, 692, 1097-1100, 1131, 1188, 1198, 1206, 1277, 1284, 1314, 1333 Granada, 79, 179, 181, 188, 221, 334-35, 7i8> 759, 927, 963, 1019-20, 1024, 1079-80, 1089-90, i°92, I275 Gratian, 424, 570, 648 Grayzel, S., 1215, 1218, 1333 Greece, 517 Greeks, 7—13, 16—19, 23, 25, 26, 30 Gregory I (the Great), Pope, Saint, 37, 518, 589, 1014, 1187, 1250, 1308, 1333 Gregory VII, Pope, 83, 256 Gregory IX, Pope, 500, 1251 Gregory X, Pope, 821 Gregory XII, Pope, 174, 180, 205 Gregory of Nazianzus, 24 Gregory of Nyssa, 24 Gregory of Tours, 1187, 1333 Guadalajara, 202, 222, 226, 229, 1059 Guadalupe, 1020, 1057—60, 1296, 1309, 1310, 1311, 1314 Guesclin, Bertrand du, in, 117 Guicciardini, Francesco, 1018, 1308, 1333 Guichot, J., 1220, 1333 Guido de Baysio, 401, 570, 1333 Guipuzcoa, 1300 Guizot, Franyois, 1023, 1308, 1333

1366 ]

N D E X

Gutman, Yehoshua, 1179, 1182, 1333 Guttmann, Jacob, 1333 Guzman, Juan Alonso de, Count of Niebla, 143-44 Guzman, Leonor de, 100 Guzman, Luis de, 1315 Guzman, Pedro de, 768

Hadas, M., 1178 Hadrian, Emperor, 39, 1183 Haller, J., 1247, 1333 Haman, 449, 930, 996 Hanseatic League, 74 Hardouin, J., 1218, 1333 Harkins, P. W., 1255 Harnack, A., 1184, 1185, 1333 Haro, 1212 Hasmoneans, 10 Hay, Denys, 1261 Hayyim ibn Musa, 210 Hecataeus of Abdera, 1178, 1179 Hefele, K. J., 38, 1023, 1027, 1185, 1187, 1188, 1235, 1248, 1249, 1261, 1308, 1334 Heilpern, P. M., 1204 Helkias, son of Onias, 9 Henricus de Segusio, Cardinal, yoo, 570, I257> 1334 Heraclius, Emperor, 1184, 1186 Heredia, Juan Hernandez de, 1169 Heredia, V. Beltran de, 689-92, 757-58, 764, 797.

I2'9. '245, I246. 1248, 1276, 1278, 1285,

1325 Hergenrother, J., 1027, 1029, 1246, 1249, 1334 Hermandad, 794, 919 Herod, King, 13, 882 Herodotus, 1178, 1179, 1334 Herrera, Pedro Nunes de, 353 Hershman, A., 1315 Hieronymites, 734-35, 743, 761 Hieronymus, Saint, 455, 466, 545, 568, 570, 575, 624, 879, 1183, 1244, 1251, 1255, 1261, 1262, 1272, 1299, 1334; see also Jerome; Jeronimo, San Hieronymus de Sancta Fide, see Jeronimo de Santa Fe Higuera, Roman de la, 317, 1224-28, 1230-34, 1238, 1240, 1275-77, ,207> 1334 Hillgarth.J. N., 124, 719, 1096, 1187, 1283, 1287, '334

Hinojosa, Gonzalo de la, Bishop of Burgos, 6J'. "97. '334 Hofer, J., 1284, 1334

Hojeda, Alonso de, 918, 1154 Honorius I, Pope, 46, 1189 Hoschander, J., 1178, 1334 Hosea, 543, 932, 1263 Hostiensis, see Henricus de Segusio Huete, 619 Hugel, G. von, 1284 Hugh of Lincoln, 1292 Huguccius, 570 Huici Miranda, A., 1334 Huidoboro, L., 1188, 1213 Hungary, 909 Hurtado de Mendoza, Juan, 224-28, 230, 238, 386, 795, 903, 1059, 1209, 1242 Huss, John, 839 Hussites, 424 Hyrcania, 1178 Hyrcanus, 1181

Iberia, 56 Ibn Ezra, Yehuda, 65 Ibn Shuaib, Joel, 930 Ibn Verga, Solomon, 1132 Ibn Wakar, Samuel, see Aben Huacar, Samuel Ibn Yahya, Gedalia, 1131 Illescas, 1228 Illyria, 25 India, 60 Infantes of Aragon, 222, 293, 301, 519, 521, 652, 685, 686, 705, 729 Innocent III, Pope, 55, 579, 1334 Innocent IV, Pope, 821 Innocent VIII, Pope, 1024, 1059, 1062 Inquisition of Aragon, 1294 Inquisition, Spanish, 925, 926, 929, 932, 933, 950 first alluded to by Council of Basle, 276 Inquisition in Toledo convicts Judaizers ('449). 3'9~2° Nicholas V authorizes Inquisition for Castile (1451), 676 his bull initiated by Alvaro, 676 suppressed in Spain, 680 Espina calls for establishment of Inquisition, 734 Spanish Franciscans endorse his plan, 734 _ seek King Enrique’s support, 735 Enrique asks for Pope’s sanction, 736 Oropesa proposed episcopal Inquisition, 73 5

INDEX

conducted Inquisition in Toledo, 735 concluded that there was no real “Judaic” heresy, 739 King agreed with his conclusion, 739 shelved bull authorizing Inquisition, 738 Inquisition recommended by Arbitration Committee (1464), 759-62 Enrique ignored recommendation, 763 Ferdinand and Isabella petition Pope to authorize Inquisition, 920 Pope responds positively in bull of Nov. 1, 1478, 920 sovereigns start inquisitional operation (Sept. 1480), 1011 inquisitors’ appointments made public in Seville (Jan. 2, 1481), 1011 reasons for sovereigns’ decision to establish Inquisition, 1006-9 developments supporting their main considerations, 916—20 major factors that produced movement leading to Inquisition, 1041—47 Inquisition and “racial purity,” 1063, 1068 Inquisition and intermarriage, 1071-72 reasons for expansion of inquisitional persecution, 1079—86 Iranzo, Miguel Lucas de, 748, 804, 808, 898,

[ n67

Jeb, see Elephantine Jellinek, A., 1208 Jephthah, 471, 624 Jeremiah, 447, 540, 627, 731, 1085, 1179, 1251, 1262, 1312 Jerez, 140, 150 Jeroboam, 1203 Jerome, Saint, see Hieronymus, Saint Jerome of Prague, 839 Jeronimo de Santa Fe, 91, 202-4, 825, 977> 1168, 1202-4, 1207, 1245, 1261, 1306, 1319 Jerusalem, 536, 562, 851-52, 868, 878, 882, 1124-26, 1131, 1295 Jesus, 20-21, 23-24, 119, 135, 141, 163, 165-66, 172, 200, 204, 279-81, 533-37, 539-44. 548-53, 563, 624, 795, 836, 861-64, 869-74, 876-83, 886-88, 890-93, 895, 977, 996, 1262 Jews, 3-27, 29-32, 34-52, 54-96, 97-101, 103, 105-7, ii3—z3» 12J—37> ■39-73. '75-204> 207-13, 218, 225, 246, 257-59, 261, 262-65, 267, 269, 271-77, 280-82, 296-98, 319, 325, 360-62, 364, 366, 367, 368, 370, 371, 372, 378, 381, 398, 399, 418-20, 431-39,

449.

453-85, 491-96, 505. 53'“54. 56i“65> 6o7. 613-16, 621-26, 635, 727-34, 762-63, 82^-40, 847, 864-88, 896, 953-55, 977, 978, 979, 988, 989, 990-96, 1048-54, 1078, 1087—92, 1095-1102, 1110-12, 1120, 1131—32, 1177—1214, 1217-18, 1221-22, 1237-38, 1244, 1250, 1252, 1255-56, 1264, 1267, 1284, 1292,

967, 1238, 1315 Isaac, 436, 531, 624, 881 Isaac ben Moses, 1212, 1334 Isabel of Portugal, Queen of Castile; wife of Juan II, 705, 1280, 1282 Isabella, Queen of Castile, 3, 751, 793-94, 810—11, 899, 906, 916-19, 921-22, 962, 750, 1005-7, ioio-ii, 1016, 1020, 1022, 1079, 1091, 1122, 1127-29, 1158, 1164, 1283

1295, 1297-99, 1314, 1318 settled in dispersion with rulers’

Isaiah, 540, 1179, 1253, 1262, 1297

allegiance, 6 Jewish troops at Jeb joined Persia s army

Ishmael, 436, 437, 449, 471 Isidore of Seville, 37, 165, 553, 597, 1014, 1187, 1264, 1268, 1307, 1334 Israel; Israelites, jwjews Italy, 74, 130, 183, 211, 521, 524, 908-9, 1152, 1231, 1256 Izbicki, Thomas M., 1245, 1247, 1248, 1334

Jabez, Joseph, 930 Jacob, 436, 531, 622, 866, 869, 881 Jacobs, Joseph, 1191, 1292, 1334 Jaen, 72, 151, 748, 812, 899, 967, 1006, 1088 Jagiello (Duke of Lithuania), see Wladislaw II, King of Poland Jaime I, King of Aragon, 263, 1193, 1215, 1307

permission, 4 Egypt first scene of such settlements, 5 Persia’s conquest of Egypt altered their

of occupation, 6 hostile Egyptian reaction followed, 6 Greek conquerors of the East favor Jewish settlement, 7, 1180 Jews aligned with Ptolemaic rulers, 7 assume high positions in the administration, 9 interfere in Egypt’s internal power struggles, 9, 12 seem to favor Rome’s early involvement, 13 viewed as servants of Egypt’s subjugators, 7. ‘3 . faced by a Greek-Egyptian coalition, 13-14 Greeks pressure Rome to reduce Jewish

rights, 13. Jews persist in claiming civil equality, 13

1368 ]

INDEX

Jews (cont.) Rome lowers Jewish status, 13 but does not satisfy Greeks, 13 Christian Rome attuned to Greek masses’ demands, 25 enacts in time severe laws against Jews, 26 German rulers support Jews de facto, 30 many Jews migrate from East to West, 1188

Juan II, King of Castile, 174, 189, 200, 217, 219-20, 222-23, 229, 233> 24*> 245> 25°, 271, 283-85, 287, 291-94, 299-304, 306, 312, 322, 331-35, 337-38, 351-53, 357, 364, 380, 385, 388-90, 402, 422, 423, 429, 486, 487, 512, 519-21, 523, 526, 586-89, 593, 594.

S96~99< 604, 606, 610, 620, 628, 637, 639, 640, 643, 644, 652, 657-59, 661-68, 670-83, 687, 690-712, 715-16, 722, 724-25,

Visigothic “unionist” kings pressure Jews to convert (since 616), 35 Jews withstand pressure with aid of nobles, 48-50 5

848, 897-99, 938, 960, 963, 1006-7, ioii, 1024, 1099, 1104, 1162, 1209, 1220, 1233, 1242, 1280, 1289 Juan I, King of Aragon, 153, 155, 161, 162, 166,

Christian Spain adopts Charlmagne’s pro-Jewish policy, 21

Juan I, King of Navarre, previously: Infante

Jews’ contribution to Reconquest, 62-65 their status and achievements rouse majority’s resentment, 66, 128 their fiercest opponents are cities’ lower classes, 72 Kings are urged to abolish Jewish rights, 68, 71-72 Jews and Kings resist pressure, 68, 105 duration of struggle in Spain, 68, 1091 Jimenez de Cisneros, Cardinal, Inquisitor General, 1025, 1080 Jimenez de la Espada, M., 1259, 1335 Jimenez de Rada, Rodrigo, 651, 1191, 1197, 1335 Job, 441, 529, 532, 572, 573, 861, 867, 1265 John, Saint, Gospel of, 20-21 John of Gaunt, son of Edward III, Duke of Lancaster, 169 John of Salisbury, 597, 1268, 1269, 1335 John the Baptist, 474, 477, 500, 541, 1183 John XXII, Pope, 180, 205, 574 Joseph, husband of Mary, Jesus’ mother, 541 Joseph ben Zadiq of Arevalo, 1007, 1098, 1101,

W3

,

Joseph de Ecija, 73, 94, 107, 115, 129, 138, 225 Joseph ha-Kohen, 1131, 1335 Joseph Nasi, see Joseph de Ecija Joseph of Arimathaea, 549, 582, 1267 Josephus, 8-9, 13, 17, 562, 1178-82, 1335 Joshua bin Nun, 581 Joshua ha-Lorki, ref Jeronimo de Santa Fe Josiah, King, 1179 Josippon, 1294 Juan, guardian of Alfonso XI, 90 Juan Alonso, 310, 348 Juan de la Cruz, 1249, 1335 Juan de San Antonio, 1289 Juan I, King of Castile, 121-22, 128, 132-34, 137, 139, 169, 176, 244-46, 265, 305-6, 321-22, 593, 748, 960, 1199

736, 797.

'73

of Aragon; later also Juan II King of Aragon, 220, 222, 227, 232, 235, 237, 279, 292_94, 3°9. 32I_22> 333—35, 34h 39°, 52°, 586, 668, 669, 685, 686, 749, 765, 797, 963, 1129-30, 1267, 1282 Juan Manuel, Don, 1021—22, 1036 Juana, Infanta, King Enrique IV’s daughter, 753, 755, 757, 758, 764, 793, 796, 810, 1128,

1129 Juana, Queen, wife of Enrique IV, 750, 1040, 1281 Juana, Queen, wife of Philip of Austria, io37> io4° Judah, 624 Judah ben Abraham, 135 Judah of Bethlehem, 404 Judaizers, 319, 354-55, 362-63, 365-66, 370-75, 383, 39', 4°9, 4I2_I4> 445, 492, 606, 735, 74°, 742> 760, 783, 788-800, 807, 841-46, 850, 890-91, 902-3, 928, 932, 943, 948, I053—54, 1056-68, 1074, 1113-16, 1119, 1133-36, 1153, 1154, 1162, 1163, 1168, 1235-37, 1256, 1270, 1294-95, 13°°, I3°4> 1309-10 abuse of “Judaizers” unknown before mid-i5th century, 1133—36 first expressed in Toledan Petition (1449), 355

why abuse appeared at the time, 447, 448 Relator denied existence of Judaizers, 410 Torquemada denounced heresy trials, 440-44

charged judges with enmity for accused, 44 2 claimed witnesses were false, 442 charges confirmed by Cuarta Cronica General, 656 Judas Iskariot, 1287 Judas Maccabaeus, 563, 581 Judea, 5, 13, 1179, 1180, 1181

INDEX

Judeans, 5, 12 Judith, 1280 Julian of Toledo, Archbishop, Saint, 404, 1189, 1335 Julius II, Pope, 273, 1033, 1039, 1063 Julius III, Pope, 1068 Juster, J., 39, 1182, 1184, 1185, 1190, 1335 Justin Martyr, 23, 1183 Justinian, Code of, 502, 1257 Justinian, Emperor, 26

Kamen, H., 1335 Katz, Jacob, 1318, 1335 Katz, Solomon, 1335 Kaufmann, D., 1222 Kaufmann, E., 1178, 1335 Khurdadbe, Ibn, 1191, 1335 Kirwan, E.D.G.M., 1311 Kisch, Guido, 1141-42, 1335 Klamroth, E., 1178, 1335 Klausner, Joseph, 1178, 1181, 1237, 1335 Kobak, J., 1335 Kraeling, H., 1184, 1335 Krauss, S., 1184, 1335 Krush, B., 1186, 1335 Kiimmel, W. G., 1183, 1335

La Guardia, 947, 1035, 1090-91, 1162 La Guardia, Santo Nino de, 1162, 1235, 1313 Ladero Quesada, M. Angel, 1219, 1220, 1336 Lafuente, Modesto, 719, 818, 1040, 1283, 1291, 1309, 1336 Landau, L., 1203, 1336 Langhorst, August, 1246, 1248, 1336 Languedoc, 734 Las Siete Partidas, 593, 594, 598, 599, 621, 626, 956, 978, 1189, 1205, 1214-16, 1238, 1244,

[ 136 9

Leon, Tristan de, 1022 Leone Ebreo, 1132 Leon Tello, P., 1191, 1238, 1291, 1305, 1336 Leontopolis, 9 Leovigild, Gothic King of Spain, 33—34, 37, 48, 1187 Lerida, 157 Levine, Ph., 1261 Levi-Provenyal, E., 1210, 1221, 1238, 1336 Levites, 565—66 Lewin, M. B., 1215, 1336 Lewis, Archibald R., 1191, 1336 Liber Judicum, 626 Libro Verde de Aragon, 1166 Libya, 7 Lieberman, S., 1237 Lindo, E. H., 1198, 1205, 1206, 1336 Lindsay, T. M., 1312 Linus, Pope, 404 Lisbon, 520 Liske, Javier, 1315, 1336 Livius, Titus, 908 Llaguno Amirola, Eugenio de, 1197, 1336 Llorca, B., 1205, 1207, 1213, 1235, 1291, 1307, 1309, 1319, 1331, 1336 Llorente, Juan Antonio, 1018-19, 1023, 1188, 1213, 1307-9, 1336 Loaysa, Juan de, 1039 Loeb, Isidore, 1096, 1132, 1215, 1294, 1314, 1336 Logrono, 151 Lombard, M., 1337 Lombard, Petrus, 532, 1261, 1298, 1337 Loomis, Louis L., 1306, 1337 Lopes, Fernao, 1197, 1337 Lopez, Atanasio, 819, 1289-91, 1337 Lopez, Leonor de, 94, 220, 224 Lopez, R. S., 1191 Lopez de Galvez, Pedro, 310, 318, 320, 670, 1228, 1232 Lopez de Mendoza, Inigo, see Santillana,

1268, 1271, 1279 Lateran Council, Fourth (1215), 55, 83, 185 Layna Serrano, F., 1241, 1260, 1261, 1336 Lea, Henry Charles, 191, 197, 688-89, 691, 692, 933, 1024-32, 1034-37, 1069, 1165, 1199, 1205, 1206, 1231, 1249, 1256, 1257, 1277, 1283,

Marquis of Lopez de Meneses, A., 1196, 1337 Lopez de Saldana, Feman, 960 Lopez de Toro, J., 1340 Lopez Martinez, Nicolas, 512, 1117-18, 1217, 1222, 1235, 1240, 1242, 1246, 1248, 1250,

1290, 1303, 1307-13, 1320, 1336 Lecky, William E. M., 1080, 1312, 1336

1258, 1294, 1296, 1337 Lopez Mata, Teofilo, 1198, 1203, 1204, 1337

Lederer, S., 1245, 1336 Leo X, Pope, 1036 Leon, 54, 66, 68, 256, 330, 338, 754, 853, 1001, 1100, 1137, 1194, 1314 Leon, Luis de, 1086

L6pez-Morillas, F. M., 1193, 1197 Lorki, Joshua ha-, jwjerbnimo de Santa Fe Los Toros de Guisando, 792, 794 Louis I, Emperor, 61 Louis XI, King of France, 749

J37° ]

INDEX

Low Countries, 172 Lucena, 517 Lucena, Juan de, 980, 1260, 1306, 1334, 1337 Lucena, Juan Ramirez de, 1013 Lucero, Diego Rodriguez, 1035-40, 1081, 1309 Lucilius, 517 Luna, Alvaro de, 217-43, 245-52, 283—84, 286-87, 293“95. 299-306, 308-13, 315, 3I7-23> 32.5—26, 333-35, 34,-46, 353-59, 366, 379, 380, 386, 387, 388, 390, 395, 402, 403, 487-90, 497, 498, 519, 520, 524, 586, 588, 593-96, 599, 600, 603, 606, 619-21, 628, 629, 632, 634, 637-41, 644, 645, 652, 653. 6J7. 664, 665, 667-70, 672, 673, 674, 67 855, 1063, 1081, 1100, 1103, 1296, 1315 Salazar y Mendoza, Pedro de, 1240, 1343 Salva, Anselmo, 1200, 1343

Robles, Fernan Alfonso de, 224, 225, 227, 960 Rodriguez, Manuel, 1214, 1337 Rodriguez, Miguel, 1337

Salva, Martin, Cardinal of Pamplona, 172—73 Samaritans, 20 Samson, 471

Rodriguez, Tomas, 1289, 1302, 1342 Rodriguez de Castro, Joseph, 818, 819, 1289, 1291, 1342 Rodriguez de Valladolid, Diego, 241 Rodriguez Villa, A., 1282, 1317, 1342 Rohling, A., 1290 Roiz de Calcena, Juan, 1037 Rojas, Fernando de, 961 Rojas, Sancho de, 206, 220—24, 1252 Rojas y Contreras, Jose de, 1217,1315,1334, 1342 Rome; Roman Empire, 11-13, 17, 19, 23-25, 28-29, 55, 73, 15, 89, 331, 335, 562-63, 679-8o, 734, 736-37, 765, 828, 899, 1024, 1030, 1033, 1039, 1231, 1256, 1286 Romero, Diego, 961 Rosa Lida de Malkiel, Maria, 1001, 1307, 1342

Salamanca, 201, 272, 275, 282, 519, 619, 814,

Samuel, prophet, 563 Samuel, Don, favorite of Fernando IV, 73 Samuel ben Wakar, see Aben Huacar, Samuel Samuel ha-Levi, Treasurer of Pedro I, King of Castile, 73, 94, 101—2, 105, 107—11, "4_I5> 120-21, 225, 1195-97, 1206 King Pedro’s financier and counselor, 94 became his “favorite,” 94, 1195 conducted some of his foreign affairs, 1197 considered by Jews as “ruler of the land,” 1196 described as such also by Enrique de Trastamara, 102 served as target of antisemitic campaign, 96, 102

[ 13 7 9

INDEX

legendary account of his downfall, 107—8 possible reasons for his break with King, 108—9 his courageous behavior under torture, no see also Pedro I; Enrique de Trastamara San Antonio, Juan de, 1342 San Bartolome, College of, 272—73 San Bartolome, Convent of, 743 San Clemente, Guillermo, 158 San Domingo de Huete, 816 San Martin, Juan de, Inquisitor of Seville, 1011

San Salvador, 1153 Sanchez, Alfonso, 1171 Sanchez, Anton, 782, 785 Sanchez, Gabriel, Treasurer of Aragon, 963, 1166, 1171—72 Sanchez, Guillen, 1171 Sanchez, Juan, 1171 Sanchez-Albornoz, Claudio, 61-62, 818, 1191, 1192, 1235, 1291, 1343 Sanchez Alonso, B., 1272, 1274, 1343 Sanchez Belda, L., 1212, 1343 Sanchez Calderon, Fernando, 786 Sanchez de Arevalo, Rodrigo, 897, 1300, 1343 Sanchez de Cartegena, Alvar, 962 Sanchez de Muniain, Jose M., 1305, 1343 Sanchez de Sevilla, Juan, 137, 960, 1304 Sanchez de Valladolid, Diego, 960 Sanchez Reyes, E., 1290, 1291, 1301 Sancho the Great, King of Navarre, 68 Sancho de Sporanis, H., 1343 Sancho IV, King of Castile, 73, 75, 83, 87-88, ioo-ioi, 1189, 1214 Sanctotis, Christophorus, 201, 1202-4, 1343 Sandoval, Prudencio de, 1031, 1309, 1343 Santa Fe, Francisco de, 1168, 1319, 1320 Santa Fe, Jeronimo de, see Jeronimo de Santa Fe Santa Maria, Alfonso Garcia de, see Cartagena, Alonso de Santa Maria, Alvar Garcia de, see Garcia de Santa Maria, Alvar Santa Maria, Gonzalo de, Archdeacon of Briviesca, later Bishop of Plasencia, 205, 520, 963 Santa Maria, Pablo de, see Paul of Burgos Santa Maria de Atocha, 1230 Santa Olalla, 149 Santangel, Luis de, 963, 1168, 1171 Santiago, Order of, 619 Santiago de Compostela, 220, 305, 526, 641, 652, 694, 790

Santillana, Marquis of, 517, 1001, 1281, 1336 Saona, 826 Saracens, 434 Saragossa, 112, 162, 1088—89, iioi, 1164-66, 1170, 1196 Sarmiento, Pero, 300-311, 313—18, 320-30, 336~37> 342_43> 34393- 498> 5°i, 5'h 5*1, 573. 586> 596> 6o°. 612, 629-32, 634, 638, 640-50, 653-56, 658, 662-64, 670, 672, 674, 676, 681, 682, 691, 710, 715, 774, 791, 801, 910-11, 1106-9, 1162, 1222, 1223, 1227-29, 1239, 1242, 1274, 1275 was known for faithfulness to King, 300 appointed governor of Toledo, 300 reasons for his insubordination, 302-3 what led him to think of rebellion, 303-4

assisted by Garcia, 307-8 directed outbreak of rebellion behind the scenes, 311—12 assumed dictatorial powers, 315-16 his reasons for persecuting the conversos, 3'6 . ; . initiated inquiry into their religious

conduct, 319, 360 established inquisitional tribunal, 319-20 resisted King’s siege of Toledo, 322-23 his motive for enacting the Sentencia, 325-27 divided with Prince control of Toledo, 323-24 compelled to give up his offices, 348 left Toledo at Prince’s command, 349 date of his departure from the city, 1109 total value of his robberies, 649 his character, 314 Sauneron, S., 1179, 1344 Savoy, 94 Sbaralea, J. H., 1289, 1290, 1343 Scarampo, 424 Schafer, E., 1235, 1309, 1344 Schaff, Philip, 1185, 1246, 1344 Schalit, Abraham, 1180 Shaw, R. Dykes, 1143 Scheuring, T. A., 1143 Schirmann, J., 1199, 1200, 1203, 1217, 1344 Schism, 525 Scholberg, Kenneth R, 1259, 1293, 1303, 1344

Scholem, G., 1237, 1344 Schone, A., 1344 Schottus, Andreas, 1238, 1344 Schiirer, E., 1182 Schwab, M., 1193 Schwane, Joseph, 1248, 1344

13 8 ° ]

INDEX

Scotland, 172, 183 Scott, S. P., 1187, 1236, 1343 Scrutinium Scripturarum, 433 Segni, Bernardo, 1018, 1307, 1344

Sigismund, King of the Romans, 207, 1269 Siguenza, 99

Segovia, 69, 113, 171, 181, 201, 228, 232, 233, 35-0,

Siguenza, Jose de, 736, 739, 742-43, 878,

5'9. 746, 75'. 753. 787. 79°. 795. 809-12,

815. 9'5. 962_63. io24. i°54. '°72. "00, 1106, 1109, 1234, 1293 Segovia, Juan de, 423 Selden, John, 1131 Seleucids, 7 Seleucus I Nicator, 1180 Seneca, 517, 545, 1184 Senensis, Antonius, 1249, 1344 Sentencia-Estatuto, 369, 372, 374, 377, 376, 378, 379. 381, 393. 449. 486, 489. 5"$, 527> 5