The depiction of the Moriscos in the reliefs of Felipe Bigarny in the Royal Chapel of Granada (c. 1521).
Borja Franco Llopis
UNED
In 1492, with the conquest of Granada, the process of conversion and religious unification of the Islamic population of the Iberian Peninsula began. After the first attempts at peaceful evangelisation devised by Archbishop Hernando de Talavera, Cardinal Cisneros, confessor to Isabella the Catholic and reformer of the Hispanic clergy, soon imposed a much more violent approach, which led to the forced baptism of the Muslims of Granada in the early years of the 16th century. This hostile attitude led to the exile of part of the population outside the territories of the former Nasrid kingdom of Granada. Some headed for North Africa, France or Italy; others went to Valencia, where they were able to continue living as Muslims until the revolt of the Germanías in the early 1520s, when their aspirations to continue professing the faith of Muhammad were cut short and they were also forced to convert.
The number of surviving works of art that depict the life of these Morisco communities, representations of New Christians made during the 16th and 17th centuries, is very small. Nor do we find many references to them in descriptions of the ephemeral decorations that were used to decorate the arches erected to celebrate different religious or political events in Hapsburg Spain. To this we should add that research into the works that have been preserved has been partial, partisan and stereotyped, with few exceptions. Historiography seems to have adopted the sentiments of the scholars who supported the expulsion of the Moriscos and their well-known slogan: ‘they are all one’, to analyse their visual representation in the same way, whether it was conceived in 1520, under the assimilationist government of Charles V, or at the beginning of the 17th century, when the canvases relating to the exile commissioned by Philip III through the Marquis of Caracena (currently conserved in the Bancaja Foundation), in which the controversial decision was justified, were designed. For some historians, neither geography nor historical period seems to matter. In most cases, they take an anecdotal approach to ‘Morisco-style’ costumes and insist on the unvarying maurophobia of the Hispanic monarchy, a religious intransigence that presaged the end of this minority in the peninsular territory.
As I have said, this is the general approach of historiography, but fortunately not the only one. Researchers such as Elena Díez Jorge and Javier Irigoyen, among others, have widened the range of possibilities when framing the how and why of the image of the Morisco, showing that it is a multifacetedrepresentation, whose many aspects make it difficult to grasp easily.
Along these lines, we present a case study: the well-known polychrome reliefs made by Felipe Bigarny for the Royal Chapel of Granada in the early 1520s. The baptismal scenes we are going to analyse are found in the predella of the altarpiece made by this artist. It is one of the most important pieces of early Spanish Renaissance sculpture. It was dedicated to commemorating the main devotions of the Catholic Monarchs (whose tombs are in the chapel), as well as to celebrating the Conquest of Granada, which is also represented in the lower part of the altarpiece, just on the opposite side of the reliefs under discussion.
The baptism of the Moriscos was illustrated by two tableaux: one dedicated to women and the other to men. It is curious that it was done in this way, that they were ‘sexually’ segregated from each other, that they were separated, when it is well known that this sacrament was given en masse, in a hurried manner and without distinction between the sexes. It is also surprising that in each of the reliefs, baptism is visualised in a different way: in one case using the technique of sprinkling and in another the laying on of holy water with the hands, as if to show the multiple ways in which this process was carried out. Perhaps this was done in order to give a more narrative and analytical character to the programme.
Of the two scenes, the one that has aroused most interest among researchers has been the one dedicated to the women, mainly because of their colourful attire. The Moriscos women wear the well-known almalafas (in vivid shades of blue, white, red and green), zaragüelles and clogs, carved in a style similar, though closer to reality, to that of the illustrations of the travellers who arrived in Spain during that period. The almalafa is a garment of Islamic origin that has been worn since the Middle Ages not only by Muslim women but also by older Christian women, due to its attractiveness and richness of materials. Moorish women tended to wear them in bright colours, while older Christian women preferred darker shades. Here, due to the colouring used, there is no doubt that they are all Muslims coming to be baptised. The artist emphasises their attire as an element of distinction, while the faces are stereotyped, and they all have the same colour complexion. This fact surprises us, as it departs from the reality of the ethnic features of this group, detracting from the veracity that the artist was trying to portray. Authors such as Barbara Fuchs, Bernard Vincent and Francisco J. Moreno, in their studies on the ‘race’ and physical appearance of the Moriscos, have demonstrated the plurality of ethnicities that made up the Morisco community.
They were not ‘all one’, rather there were both white and olive-skinned Moriscos, as well as brown and black. The aforementioned authors reached these conclusions after analysing not only the literature of the time, but also different legal sources where they are described objectively and carefully. After years of coexistence in the Iberian Peninsula, the Moriscos gradually assimilated physically with the Old Christians, so much so that several scholars, such as Pedro de Valencia, pointed out that it was almost impossible to distinguish between them. It seems, therefore, that the artist, focusing on distinguishing the Morisco women by their attire, tends to simplify their faces in order to avoid distracting the viewer and to give a univocal message. What is of interest is to point them out through their dress, one of the most controversial elements which, years later, the crown itself prohibited.
The panel dedicated to men, on the other hand, has been of less interest to researchers. The historiography has emphasised the diversity of dress worn by men and their less Islamising character. This is no coincidence, as the Morisco men, unlike the women, soon adopted old Christian dress. With the exception of a few turbans concealed in the crowd, the Moors in the altarpiece look like Christians coming to receive the sacrament. Starting from this idea, if the women were identified as Morisco because they wore the almalafa, what visual code did the artist use to show that they were new Christians? He did so precisely through the faces, which are as diverse in tone as the women’s clothing. As mentioned earlier, the latest studies on the appearance of the Moriscos emphasise their ethnic diversity and skin colouring. Here the artist, in his desire for realism, also emphasises this characteristic in his attempted portrayal of them. Therefore, from the study of the written sources and of these polychrome reliefs it is clear that those painters who portrayed the Moriscos only in black or very dark tones (as is the case, for example, in the canvases of the expulsion preserved in the Bancaja Collection), took a partisan and politicised view of the Morisco, to justify his social exclusion as a being alien to Spanish culture, since the reality was very different. The same may be said of the researchers who later accepted these images as truthful and described them without considering a possible hidden or politicised message. What Bigarny attempts here is to paint a portrait of the ethnic plurality that existed.
In fact, this diversity of faces and also of dress is a constant feature of the iconography of the Moriscos during the Caroline (Charles V) period. In the seventh of the arches showing the festivities held for the nuptials with Isabella of Portugal in Seville (1526), in the lower part, men and women were depicted separately on either side, as in the Granada work. The royal wedding sources indicate that the figures depicted in this arch were distinguished by the colour of their skin and their dress. The subjects depicted in this arch were, according to narrative accounts of the festivities, Spaniards, Indians, Germans and Moriscos, all of them part of the Hispanic nation. This was the message that the arch was intended to convey. The Moriscos were integrated as part of the peoples under the dominion of the future emperor, on the same level as the rest. This is very important, as we know that this ideology changed around 1570, under Philip II, after the Revolt of the Alpujarras, in which the alliance of some sectors of the Moriscos with the Turks became evident. This position became more radical during the reign of Philip III, who tried, by all possible means, to show the Morisco as unassimilable, a fact which he publicised to justify their expulsion. Both in Bigarny’s reliefs and in the decorations on the triumphal arch in Seville, there is an assimilationist message that is not at all Maurophobic. The Morisco are a plural community and should be integrated into Spanish society, hence the use of a very similar compositional scheme in his illustration. It is an iconography that fits in with Caroline universalism and with the well-known irenicism of the beginning of his reign, something which, as we have said, became less and less relevant as the years went by.
Another interesting element is that both decorative schemes, of Bigarny and of Charles V’s nuptials were executed in the midst of the conflict of the Germanías in Valencia. In neither of them is there the slightest reference to the war against the Moriscos that took place there. This idea was disseminated in relation to other revolts, such as the Alpujarras revolt, mentioned above as for example in the ephemeral architecture created in honour of Philip II. Charles V seems not to have been interested in showing Morisco dissidence, but in proclaiming their integration.
On the other hand, a careful analysis of the Granada relief brings to our attention the existence of two figures pointing directly towards the baptismal font. One faces forwards, in the central part of the group, and the other towards the back. Both have very peculiar characteristics that distinguish them from the rest. The first covers his head with a Phrygian cap, an element used to indicate the oriental origin of those who wear it. The possession of this headgear is also of pecuniary significance because it was worn by wealthy merchants to demonstrate their social status. This wealth can also be seen in the other figure in the foreground, who is dressed in a golden cloak. This garment is also synonymous with social distinction. In view of the elements that distinguish them from the rest, it is possible that the artist was referring to those New Christians belonging to a higher social class, such as the Granada Benegas, who, thanks to negotiations with the crown, managed to maintain their social status after the conquest of the Nasrid kingdom and who later facilitated the conversion of the rest of their co-religionists.
Let us not forget that, on Luis Hurtado de Mendoza’s first journey to meet the newly arrived Charles V, the nobleman travelled accompanied by converts who formed part of the Granada elite, such as Alonso Benegas, which denotes the involvement of this family in the pacification and conversion of the territory. It is only they – those who possess these distinctive elements, who lead the rest to the baptismal font, who emphasise the importance of baptism – who are singled out among the converts for their significant role in these early years of the 16th century. Once again, the work of the converts in the Morisco conversion itself is emphasised. They are not ‘all one’.
Finally, it is worth remembering that in this same Royal Chapel, years later, a meeting was held where the question of Morisco costume was debated. Conversos and Old Christians were invited. Charles V listened to the state of the territory after the abuses of the forced conversions and, on the advice of the Count of Tendilla, Iñigo López de Mendoza, ruled that the Moriscos could continue to dress according to their fashion and protected them from attacks by certain Old Christian groups. Charles V’s conciliatory attitude towards the Moriscos was so pacifist that it was exalted by important figures in the history of this group years later, such as Miguel de Luna, who, at the end of the 16th century, in his Historia verdadera del Rey don Rodrigo honoured the aforementioned monarch for his policy, clemency and concern for the Moriscos.
The views of Núñez Muley in his memorandum, in which he extols the virtues of Charles V in his dealings with the Moriscos, are also along these lines.
Therefore, the visual discourse presented by Bigarny has more facets than has been recognised by the historiography, which separates attitudes towards the Moor and towards the Moriscos(1). These reliefs are not merely submissive, maurophobic, but reflect a positive attitude towards the collaborationist Moriscos. This attitude was timidly taken up by Philip II, but changed, as mentioned above, after the conflict in the Alpujarras.
The aim of this example is to show that the approach to Islam in the Iberian Peninsula should not be based on a dichotomous vision of attraction or rejection, as this would mean losing the great variety of responses that may be observed during the long years of religious coexistence. Objects must be given a voice in the context in which they were created, and not by means of impostor historiographical categories created a posteriori, a reductionism that is not conducive to a true knowledge of our past. There is no single image of the Moriscos, nor is it always a negative representation. It evolves over time, hence the need to frame it in the space in which it was born, in order to better understand its meaning and, thus, to understand the perception of this group at different times in our history.
Notes:
(1) The term ‘Moor’ is used systematically in the documentation of the period under discussion here to refer to the Muslims who lived in the Iberian Peninsula (before and after their conversion), which is why we reproduce it in this text. Etymologically, it is related to the population born in North Africa (maurus) and by extension to those who conquered the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century, as most of them came from that territory.
Further reading:
- DÍEZ JORGE, María Elena, “Under the same mantle: the women of the ‘Other’ through images of Moriscas”, Il Capitale Culturale, suplemento 6, 2017, págs. 49-86.
- FRANCO LLOPIS, Borja y MORENO DÍAZ DEL CAMPO, Francisco Javier, Pintando al converso: La imagen del morisco en la península ibérica (1492-1614). Madrid: Cátedra, 2019.
- FUCHS, Barbara, Exotic Nation: Maurophilia and the Construction of Early Modern Spain. Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania University Press, 2009.
- IRIGOYEN-GARCÍA, Javier, Moors Dressed as Moors. Clothing, Social Distinction, and Ethnicity in Early Modern Iberia.Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017.
- VINCENT, Bernard, “¿Qué aspecto tenían los moriscos?”, Actas del II Coloquio de Historia de Andalucía: Andalucía Moderna. Córdoba: Monte Piedad, 1983, vol. 2, págs, 335-340.