Civilizations

by Laurent Binet

  Lorenzino returned from Italy with a renowned artist called Michelangelo, whom he had gone to fetch from Rome. At first, they discussed building a tomb for Charles Quint, whose body had been left in the Alhambra, among the tomato plants. Then Michelangelo was commissioned to create a sculpture representing Viracocha, creator of the sun, the moon and the stars. Atahualpa would have liked him to paint a portrait of his sister-wife and their newborn son, but since the artist hated painting living people, the Inca had to give up on this idea. Instead, Lorenzino was sent to find another painter, who had worked for Charles before and who lived in a city named Venice. However, Michelangelo agreed to make an exception for Princess Higuénamota, and he created the magnificent sculpture of her that can be found today in the great temple in Seville, the very same temple where Charles and Isabella had been wed.

  In truth, Atahualpa would have preferred to return to Granada because he liked being high up in the Alhambra, but he needed a residence with a maritime link to his homeland, and the river Guadalquivir, which ran through Seville, though not very deep and difficult to navigate for the large ships that he sent to Cuba, provided that link. Soon, the barrels of wine and flour were being rolled day and night along the quays of the port, passing the barrels of saltpetre and coca that were rolled in the opposite direction, and the crates of gold and silver sent by Huascar were unloaded as jars of olive oil, honey and vinegar (all of them very popular among the Incas in the west) were loaded into the ships’ holds.

  Trade boomed to such an extent that Atahualpa ordered the creation of a specific institution – known by the locals as the Casa de Contratacion – to administer commercial relations between Tawantinsuyu and the Fifth Quarter. Nobody in Spain – or elsewhere among the eastern lands – was permitted to trade with the countries of the west unless they passed through Seville. The one exception to this rule was Lisbon, in gratitude for the aid that city gave to Higuénamota, without which this story would have ended very differently for the Quitonians in Spain; very differently, indeed, for the entire history of the world. Even so, a quintile of everything brought to the New World on Portuguese ships had to be given to the Spanish crown.

  This was also a form of compensation to Queen Isabella, sister of Joao III, for the loss of her beloved husband.

  29. The Cortes

  Another compensation was the promotion of her son to the position of king of Spain.

  Custom dictated that an assembly of lords, priests and merchants, from all the regions of Castile, should present their tributes to the new king. This was the Cortes, and the solemn ceremony was intimidating for little Philip. Nevertheless, in order to spare him any embarrassment, Chalco Chimac had written his speech, which was translated into Castilian by Higuénamota, with the aid of Pedro Pizarro. The dukes of Arcos and Medina Sidonia were kind enough to revise this speech and to enrich it with their knowledge of local institutions and protocols.

  So it was that little Philip could ensure that he was worthy of the onerous duty he had taken on, since it had pleased God to make him king of Spain at such a tender age. The Sevillian lords, who had lent their support to the preparation of the speech, kept emphasising the fact that his father had been called to God at the age of thirty-three, and Chalco Chimac, suspecting that this information must have some symbolic importance, had mentioned it several times in the speech.

  However, God had not left the little king empty-handed before such a mighty task. In his infinite mercy, he had sent him the son of the Sun, from beyond the seas, to guide and advise him.

  This advisory role was difficult to conceal: whenever little Philip hesitated or lost the thread of his speech, Chalco Chimac would kneel beside him and whisper the next words into his ear, a sight that at first did not make a very favourable impression on the assembly. Then the older among them remembered that it had been the same way for young Charles and his old master, the lord of Chièvres. True, the situation had been markedly different, but ultimately not much more extraordinary, with the arrival of a young monarch who did not speak a word of Spanish. At least Philip had been born in Valladolid, not in Flanders. As for the lord from beyond the seas, he had lots of gold and seemed willing to share it.

  And so the young king, inspired by his new entourage, was able to announce the first edicts of his reign.

  The very first was the dissolution of the Supreme Council of the Inquisition and the complete suppression of the Tribunal of the Holy Office. Hearing the murmurs of approbation that spread through the assembly, including certain representatives of the Church, Atahualpa understood that this measure would not be unpopular.

  The second edict consisted of ceding Artois and Flanders to the kingdom of France, in return for a treaty of alliance consolidated by a promise of mutual assistance. The Spanish were not interested in the northern provinces, and this news was greeted with general indifference and a small sigh of relief.

  Lastly the lord from beyond the seas, Atahualpa, son of the Sun, was appointed the king’s chancellor, taking the place of Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle, whose head now had a price on it, like those of the other rebels.

  The reward offered for the head of Sepúlveda, declared guilty of King Charles’s murder, was a thousand ducats.

  Pedro Pizarro was named secretary of state, replacing Francisco de los Cobos y Molina, who was also placed on the list of outlaws, alongside Juan Pardo Tavera and Antonio de Leyva.

  The first Minister of Cults was appointed. Atahualpa initially offered the post to Iñigo López de Loyola, but he refused, so the converso humanist Juan de Valdés, brought from Rome by Lorenzino, was given the job.

  The Alhambra Decree concerning the expulsion of the Jews, dated 1492 in the ancient era and signed by Charles Quint’s grandparents in Granada, was repealed.

  30. Letter from More to Erasmus

  Thomas More to Erasmus of Rotterdam, greetings.

  You know, my dear Erasmus, how I have savoured my retirement since handing back the Seal and laying down my office of chancellor, with which His Majesty King Henry so honoured me by his incredible favour.

  I have heard that you left Basel because your uncertain health led you to wish for a more tranquil life, and, on that subject, I hope with all my heart that your kidney stones are giving you some respite.

  However, I have picked up my quill today, my very dear Erasmus, to beg you to help your old friend in an affair that goes far beyond my own situation and involves, I am not afraid to say, the fate of all Christianity.

  I am sure that you are not unaware that it has entered the mind of His Majesty the King of England to seek the annulment of his marriage with Queen Catherine to allow him to marry Lady Anne Boleyn, and that the Pope has refused this annulment, a situation which presently makes him a bigamist in the eyes of the Church.

  You must also have heard talk of this new religion which is spreading through Spain, which some call Intism and others Solism, and which claims to be the religion of the Sun, according to this new lord Atahualpa, who was responsible for the death of the Emperor Charles and who is, I have heard, presently the real power behind the Spanish throne.

  Now, can you imagine what idea has struck His Majesty, my king? He threatens to convert to the Inca religion, and to force the whole of England to follow him in this folly, if the Pope does not give him satisfaction, since he has heard that under the tenets of this religion it is possible to multiply one’s spouses as Our Lord multiplied loaves of bread.

  Although Our Holy Father has threatened the king with excommunication, it has been for nought. His Majesty is so besotted and so obstinate he seems determined to disregard the judgements of the Pope himself.

  Can you imagine a greater blasphemy? We must already defend ourselves against the progress of that Luther and his damnable heresy. And now he makes us face an even greater and more diabolical peril: those barbarian idolatries that seem to have emerged directly from Hell itself.

  I beg you, dear Erasmus, to write a letter to the king to make him see
all the consequences of this folly, which must end in undermining the very foundations of all true faith in Our Lord. You see, it is no longer simply a matter of combating those who strive to deny purgatory or who refuse to abstain from meat on Holy Friday. It is no longer simply the unity of our Holy Church which is in peril but Christianity itself which risks sinking into the infidelity of atheism.

  In truth, the best thing you could do would be to publish a text that recalls our attachment to the true faith and condemns these impious superstitions.

  Only you, my dear Erasmus, possess sufficient authority to put an end to this madness, and a word from you may set all of Europe back on the righteous path which leads to God.

  Who knows? Perhaps this Atahualpa has been sent to us by God to reconcile the Church with its lost sheep, to bring the acolytes of Luther to their senses, that we may unite to defend our faith from these heathens.

  You know I have always ardently desired that you should produce from your heart, the most appropriate organ to ensure the truth, a treaty that will show, irrefutably, that our faith is the only true one. I do not believe that any moment in history could be better chosen than today, and I pray that nothing will turn you away from this noble task.

  Take care, Erasmus, dearest of all mortals.

  From Chelsea, 21 January 1534,

  To Master Erasmus of Rotterdam,

  A man of eminent virtue and knowledge.

  With all my heart, Thomas More

  31. Letter from Erasmus to More

  Erasmus to Thomas More, greetings.

  You were not wrong, my friend, when you sensed my fatigue and weariness. In truth, my body scarce leaves me in peace and it is rare that a day passes when I am not stricken by new pains.

  However, out of love for you, and because you are addressing important matters that deserve our attention, I am taking the time to reply to you as diligently as I can.

  First of all, I must tell you that the calumnies against me have so weakened me that I no longer have the strength or ardour necessary to enter the arena again: so much for the treaty that you ask me to write.

  Furthermore, those calumnies and the loss of credit that they have attached to my reputation make me doubt that the king of England will listen to an old man who is already half-buried and forgotten and who, moreover, refused on numerous occasions the generous invitations that your sovereign sent to him.

  As for the Pope, I believe that your best ally in this business and the one who will be of most assistance in your noble enterprise is perhaps that Atahualpa himself, whose name, to my mind, you blacken too hastily.

  Indeed, in causing the death of Charles, who was the nephew of Queen Catherine and who threatened Rome with reprisals if ever that lady was repudiated with the blessing of the Holy Father, Atahualpa has in fact rid us of the menace that was the emperor and, at the same time, the principal obstacle to the annulment of that marriage. Once this annulment is pronounced, there is no reason why King Henry’s wedding to Lady Anne may not be made official, and this act, by giving the king full satisfaction, will remove any reason for your king to desert the Catholic Church.

  But beyond these considerations, I would ask you to reflect on what you wrote about this Inca and his religion. Do you truly believe it to be worse than the Lutheran heretics that you revile? And that it will harm our Church more than the rapacious monks with depraved morals whom you once denounced? True, it was in full knowledge of the cause that Luther unsheathed the sword of justice to tear apart the Church. But Atahualpa is innocent of that. Is it his fault if the message of the Gospel has not yet reached his island, wherever it may be?

  You seem convinced that the enemies of the Church are doomed to Hell, and I would not know how to prove you wrong, but remember, my friend, that Hell cannot attack heathens.

  Moreover, if you really study this religion of the Sun, you will find numerous points of commonality with our own faith. Are not Viracocha and the Sun a little like God the Father and his Son Jesus, Our Lord? Is not the Moon, sister and wife of the Sun, the very image of the Virgin Mary? And the lightning that they worship … could that not bring to mind our Holy Spirit? After all, you have often seen the Holy Spirit represented in our churches in the form of a bird, so why might it not also be imagined as a lightning bolt?

  Take care, my friend, not to see heretics where there are only creatures of God. Precisely because the name of heretic is so odious to Christian ears, we must all be diligent not to wither its meaning by taking it lightly. You know that I condemn Luther for his eagerness for destruction, his warlike ardour. Well, don’t you see, my friend, that I am fully in agreement with you on one point? Perhaps this Atahualpa is a stroke of good fortune, sent to bring us peace.

  Take very good care of yourself, my friend, and please extend my greetings to Mrs Alice and Mrs Roper.

  From Friburg, 28 February 1534,

  To Thomas More, the wisest

  and most fervent defender of God.

  Didier Erasmus of Rotterdam

  32. Letter from More to Erasmus

  Thomas More to Erasmus of Rotterdam, greetings.

  Once again, in your perspicacity, you have hit the nail upon the head, you who are the wisest of all wise men: our most Holy Father has suspended his threats of excommunication and finally authorised the annulment of the marriage. Now, there is nothing to prevent King Henry from marrying Lady Boleyn.

  But even your astonishing sagacity did not guess what nobody, other than God himself, could have foreseen.

  You might think that England is saved, since the king no longer has a motive to fall into impiety. But I must inform you that this has not changed anything, and that the danger is, in fact, greater than ever.

  Can you believe that His Majesty has been struck with the idea of opening a Temple of the Sun, filled with virgins handpicked for his own pleasure? Indeed, his madness is now so advanced that he has decreed himself the son of the Sun, following the example of that barbarian Atahualpa.

  I would love to share your benevolence towards that impious religion, but I am afraid that I can see no rapport whatsoever with our one true faith. And what if there were? True, the Old Testament heralded the New, as you rightly reminded me, and contained within it, most certainly, the prophetic signs of the messiah’s coming. But I must ask you, dear Erasmus: even if we admit that Moses prepared the way for Jesus’s coming, is that any reason to become a Jew?

  In any case, I thank you for your letter to the Pope, and I have no doubt that it weighed in the balance in his decision to annul the marriage, even if this did not, ultimately, have the effect for which I was most earnestly hoping.

  May God keep you, Erasmus, dearest of all my friends.

  Chelsea, 23 March 1534,

  To Erasmus of Rotterdam, farewell.

  Thomas More

  33. Letter from Erasmus to More

  Erasmus of Rotterdam to his very dear More, greetings.

  Did I not tell you that this foreigner, this barbarian as you call him, was a stroke of fortune for Europe? In truth, I deserve no praise for prescience in this regard, despite what you say, because it was by way of a letter from our good friend Guillaume Budé that I came to forge this opinion.

  In Paris last month, King Francis received an ambassador from the Spanish crown who was accompanied by several of those Indians or Incas, I do not know how I should call them. (Perhaps they are from Persia, as the sun is worshipped in that land.) It appears that they are beings of great refinement and beauty, but also that, most importantly, by ceding large portions of King Philip’s inheritance to the kingdom of France, they are responsible for the signature of the peace treaty between France and Spain. In exchange, King Francis, in his great wisdom, has renounced his claim to Milan, an act that may allow Italy, a land of incessant war, to witness finally the dawn of a durable peace.

  But this is not all. In truth, I am trembling with joy and contentment as I write these lines to inform you, if you are not already aware, my very d
ear More, of the latest news from Spain.

  Imagine that the young King Philip, following the advice of his new chancellor, has promulgated in Seville an edict proclaiming that each man is free to choose and to practise his religion throughout all the territories of Castile and Aragon! The only obligation is to celebrate the festival of the Sun twice a year. (Even the most fervent defender of Christianity must surely agree that this constraint is a light one; I hope and believe that you will be of the same opinion as me on this point.)

  Do you understand what this means, my dear More, most precious of all my friends? It is the door that is finally opening into a Europe of tolerance, the very land we despaired of ever seeing, and perhaps even, if God wills it, the pathway to universal peace. May this edict of tolerance serve as an example to kings and princes, and may it by the same token disarm Luther’s fury.

  Do you see, dear More, the lesson to be drawn from all of this? The wisdom of a heathen, if he is guided by God, however unwittingly, can do more for humanity than a bloodthirsty Christian. After all, was not Socrates, too, a precursor of Our Lord Jesus? Would you say that Socrates and Plato were impious barbarians? Or would you, for that matter, say that the monk Savonarola, who presided over a reign of terror in Florence in the name of Our Lord, was a good Christian?

  Dear Thomas, I am eager to know your opinion on all of this, and I send you warmest greetings.

  From Friburg, 17 April 1534,

  To Thomas More, my brother humanist.

  Erasmus

  34. Letter from Thomas More to Erasmus