by Hugh Thomas
But in these weeks, Granada was about to surrender, and the minds of the monarchs, their courtiers, and their learned advisers were on the Old World. The committee made no immediate decision, and Columbus waited all that autumn of 1491, with nothing else to do save observe how the Muslims in Granada were considering surrender without fighting.
5
“For God’s sake, tell me what song you are singing”
For God’s sake, sailor, tell me what song you are singing!—I shall not tell you unless you agree to sail with me.
BALLAD OF COUNT ARNALDOS, 1492
Within Granada in November 1491 there was discussion of a possible surrender to the Christians. An Arab account tells how there came together, in a consultative assembly, the leading men, nobles and common folk alike, with Islamic lawyers, guild wardens, elders, learned men, such courageous knights as were still alive—indeed, anybody in Granada with some insight into affairs.1 They all went to see the Emir (Boabdil) and told him of the condition of the people and in what a sorry state they were. Their city was a large one, they said, for which supplies of food were inadequate even in times of peace. So how could they manage when almost nothing was coming in? The route to bring food from the rich villages in the Alpujarras to the south had been cut. The best of the Muslim knights were dead; those who remained were weakened by wounds. The people were unable to go out to seek food or to cultivate the land.
Few of the Muslim brethren in North Africa across the sea had come to help, though they had been asked to. The Christian enemy was becoming ever stronger and was building elaborate siege works. Yet the winter had begun, much of the enemy’s army had dispersed, and military operations had been suspended. If the Muslims were now to open talks with the Christians, their approach would surely be well received. The Christians would probably agree to what was asked of them. If, however, they were to wait till spring, the Christian armies would attack, the Muslims would be weaker, the famine worse. The Christians might not be ready to accept the tolerant terms that they, the Muslims, were seeking, and they and their city might not be saved from a brutal conquest. Some of the Muslims who had fled to the Christian camp would be ready to point out to their new friends the vulnerable places in the defenses. An honorable surrender now seemed more appropriate than a brutal military defeat in a few months’ time.
So it was agreed by all in Granada that “they should send an emissary for a talk to the Christian king. Some [Muslims] thought that secretly Boabdil and his ministers had already agreed to hand over the city to Fernando but, fearing the reaction of the common people, kept them duped. At all events, when the leaders sent word to Fernando, they found that he was happy to grant their requests.…”2
The details of the surrender were worked out by El Gran Capitán, Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba, an Arab speaker and the rising star in the Spanish army, and al-Mulih, the Arab governor of the city, who asked, “What certainty can Boabdil have that the King and Queen will let my lord have the Alpujarras [the valleys between the city and the sea that the Muslims insisted remain theirs] which is the first clause in our negotiations, and that they will really treat him as a relative?” “The obligation will last, señor governor,” replied Fernández de Córdoba, “for as long as his excellency Boabdil remains in the service of their Highnesses.”3
On November 28, 1491, terms of surrender, the “Capitulaciones,” were ratified by both sides.4 They were liberal. They were signed by the two Spanish monarchs and witnessed by the experienced secretary Hernando de Zafra. The main item was that, within forty days, the Moorish King would surrender to Isabel and Fernando the fortress of the Alhambra and the gate of the Albaicín, “so that their Highnesses may occupy them with their troops.” The Christian monarchs would accept all those who lived in Granada as their vassals “and natural subjects.” The Muslims would be able to remain in their houses and farms forever. Boabdil and all his people would “live in their own religion and not permit their mosques to be taken from them.” The conquered people would also continue to be “judged by their own laws.” Those among them who wanted to go and live in Barbary, North Africa, would be allowed to sell their property and make such profits as they could. They could have free transport to where they wanted, in large ships, for up to three years. Muslims who stayed behind would not have to wear distinctive clothing and would pay the same taxes as they had paid before. Christians would not enter mosques without permission. Jews would not be able to be nominated as tax collectors over any Muslim, or have any command over them. Muslim rites would be preserved. Lawsuits between Muslims would be judged by their own law, and any suit between people of the two religions would have both a Christian and a Muslim judge. Any Muslim captive who succeeded in fleeing to Granada would be declared free.
No Muslim would be forced to be a Christian against his or her will. No one would be asked to return goods seized during the war. The judges, mayors, and governors appointed by Fernando and Isabel would be persons who would honor the Muslims and treat them kindly (amorosamente). No one would be called to account for anything that had happened before the surrender. All prisoners were to be released, those in Andalusia within five months, those in Castile within eight. Muslim inheritance law would be respected, as would all donations to mosques. Muslims would not be conscripted for military service on behalf of Castile against their will, and Christian and Muslim slaughterhouses would remain separate.
These terms resembled those that Fernando’s Aragonese predecessors had negotiated generations before at the surrender of Valencia. In the novel Amadís de Gaula, this new submission is spoken of as “the saintly conquest.”5 Certainly it was, in the face of it, benign. It recalls the Chinese dictum that the greatest victory is one in which a city gives in without a fight. It was an anticipation, too, of innumerable capitulations by non-Christian people to Spaniards in America.
When the prisoners in Granada were handed over, there was much excitement, and a holy man began to shout that the Muslims were still certain to win if only they exalted Muhammad. There was uproar, and Boabdil was detained against his will for a time in the Alhambra. He wrote to Fernando saying he thought that the city should be handed over there and then, not waiting, as had been planned, for Epiphany, in order to avoid further protests of that nature.6
So on January 1, 1492, Gutierre de Cárdenas, the same mayordomo who had proclaimed Isabel queen eighteen years before in Segovia, now escorted by al-Mulih and Ibn Kumasha, rode into the palace of the Alhambra to accept the surrender of the last Muslim city of western Europe. He received the keys of the city and gave a written receipt for them. On January 2, he and his men took over the strongpoints of Granada, and bells were placed in the mosques. Columbus recalled later seeing the flags of Castile and Aragon being raised on the towers of the Alhambra. Boabdil, meantime, formally handed the keys of the city to Fernando. Fernando gave them to the Queen, who in turn presented them to the Infante Juan, who left them with the Count of Tendilla, who was, of course, a Mendoza and would be the new Christian governor.7 Thus it was that the pomegranate emblem of Granada passed to join the royal arms of Castile.8
Tendilla and Talavera, the new Governor and newly appointed Archbishop of Granada, went into the city with Cárdenas. On January 6, the monarchs solemnly entered the city, though they remained living at Santa Fe.9 The Alhambra seemed a marvel to all: Peter Martyr wrote to Cardinal Arcimboldo in Rome: “O immortal Gods, what a palace! It is unique in the world.”10
There were celebrations throughout Europe. In Rome, Cardinal Rafaelo Riano staged a dramatic representation of the events in Granada and, on February 1, the Spanish Cardinal Borgia, dean of the college of cardinals, offered a bullfight in Rome (such a thing had never been seen there before)11 and presided over a procession between the Church of Santiago de los Españoles to the Palazzo Navona, where Pope Innocent celebrated Mass in the open air in honor of the victory. The fall of Granada was an event that seemed in Rome almost to make up for the loss of Constantinople in 14
53. It certainly compensated for the loss of Otranto in 1480, when twelve thousand of the inhabitants were allegedly put to death by Muslims with horrible tortures, many thrown off a cliff to be eaten by dogs, while the aged Archbishop, who had remained at his altar to the last, was sawn in two.12
The work of the incorporation of Granada into Castile was placed in the hands of Governor Tendilla and Archbishop Talavera, assisted by the royal secretary Hernando de Zafra. A descendant of Jews, Talavera was tolerant of Muslims. He learned Arabic and prepared a simple Catechism that would enable all new Christians to know the new faith. He hired special preachers to explain Christianity. His enthusiasm was contagious, and he became known as the afaquí santo (the beloved leader). Thousands of Muslims converted in consequence. Tendilla, equally tolerant, allowed the mosques generally to continue, even if he had the main one converted into a Christian cathedral, later rebuilt in the style of the Renaissance by the great architects Egas and Silöe.13 Altogether about 200,000 to 300,000 Muslims thereby joined Castile (including those who had surrendered since 1481 in places other than the city of Granada). Most of the land in the valley had already been divided up among the conquerors, and now the rest, and much of the city, followed. We see memories of these partitions in place-names; thus the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, south of Guadix, are still known as the “Marquesado de Cenete,” even if the Marqués has long since left.14
In these dramatic new circumstances, the committee designated to consider Columbus’s plans anew met in Santa Fe and reached the usual negative decision about them. Isabel and Fernando advised Columbus to leave Granada quickly; and, indeed, he left in dudgeon for Córdoba, not for La Rábida, determined to head for France.15 He may have heard from his brother Bartolomeo, now free and in England, that captains in Bristol had recently sent out caravels in search of “the island of Brazil,” which signified a territory where brazilwood might be found, as the Spanish ambassador to London, Pedro de Ayala, would report some years later.16
But the Aragonese converso treasurer, Luis Santangel, intervened and, according to Fernando Colón, persuaded the Queen to change her mind.17 Deza and the secretary Cabrero are said to have acted similarly with Fernando.18 Santangel told Isabel that if she supported Columbus, she would be taking a small risk for an opportunity of glory. If another king sponsored Columbus, and the journey turned out a success, she would be criticized in Spain. Columbus, Santangel thought, was a “wise and prudent man and of an excellent intelligence.” He appealed to her often expressed desire to appear preeminent among monarchs, and to try to seek out “the grandeurs and secrets of this universe.”19 Santangel added that he knew his action exceeded “the limits or rules of his office as treasurer, but he was in mind to say what his heart told him.”20 Quintanilla, the chief accountant of Castile, had always liked Columbus and again spoke accordingly, while Beatriz de Bobadilla, also still the chief lady-in-waiting of the Queen, the most influential woman at court after the Queen herself, is said to have talked to Isabel, too, in favor of Columbus.21 Piñelo, Santangel’s Genoese partner, also gave his support.
Thus the Queen was persuaded. Isabel suggested that she should wait until reparations from the war permitted funding, though if Santangel thought it necessary, she “was ready to pledge her jewels for the cost of the expedition.”22 Santangel drily said that that would not be necessary; he would easily find the sum necessary. After all, that was surely little in comparison with what might be forthcoming.23 In practice, the money came partly from Santangel and partly from Piñelo.24 Perhaps they cynically thought that, despite Columbus’s talk of China and the Indies, at least some more Canary Islands would be found. Some of Isabel’s jewels were already at Santangel’s bank in Valencia, including her ruby and gold necklace, as surety for 25,000 florins borrowed for the campaign of 1490 that captured the city of Baza. A crown had also been pledged to Santangel in return for 35,000 florins and another, with more jewels, for 50,000 florins that had been placed in the cathedral in Barcelona.
So in early April 1492 a messenger, in the form of a court constable, went from the monarchs to fetch Columbus. But the furious Genoese had by then already left Santa Fe and had reached Pinos, about five miles to the north. He was making for France. It is said that the messenger caught up with him on the ancient bridge.25 The messenger must have made very clear that the royal mood had changed absolutely since Columbus would not have returned yet again had he not been guaranteed success.
In Santa Fe, Santangel and then the monarchs received Columbus and instructed the experienced Aragonese secretary Juan de Coloma to draw up warrants by which Columbus was charged to carry out the discoveries that he had always desired.
There is a ballad in Spain that tells of Count Arnaldos, who, one St. John’s Day, June 25, at the height of summer, went hawking. He saw from the top of a cliff a ship with a silk sail. A sailor was singing a song that calmed the sea, soothed the winds, caused the fish to come to the surface and the marine birds to perch on the mast. “For God’s sake,” called the Count, “tell me what are you singing?” But it was a magic song, and the sailor replied: “I shall not tell you unless you agree to sail with me.” The sailor was the incarnation of Columbus. Unlike the monarchs, the nobles, and the secretaries, who had spent their lives in Castile or Aragon, Columbus had traveled far: Africa, the Atlantic islands, the Aegean, Algiers, even Ireland. He had gone everywhere looking for help; his life resembled that in a novel of chivalry, for the heroes in such works were always seeing kings and flattering queens and asking for their assistance. But his real journeys were only just beginning.
The King and Queen of Aragon and Castile founded the Spanish Empire in the Americas when, on April 17, 1492, at Santa Fe, they committed themselves to support the expedition of Columbus on his own extraordinary terms. Both monarchs, and both secretariats at their disposal, were parties to the arrangements for the so-called Capitulaciones with the Genoese.26 Possibly the secretary Juan de Coloma used a draft of Columbus’s, itself perhaps written by Fray Juan Pérez, as his text to begin with; that would explain the emphasis given to matters affecting Columbus’s status.27
The document of April 17 had five items. First, it named Columbus “Admiral of the Ocean Sea”28 and any “islands and mainlands”29 that he had already discovered,30 just as the King’s uncle, Fadrique Enríquez, “was Admiral of Castile.” As with Enríquez (since 1472 only), the title would be hereditary. Columbus would also be nominated viceroy and governor-general in all the islands and mainlands that he would discover in the future. These titles would also be considered hereditary, in contrast to all precedents.
Columbus would be named “Don,” at the time a specific title: a hidalgo with privileges (a right not to be taxed, for example). For all important public offices in any newly discovered lands, Columbus would have the right to nominate three candidates (a terna), of which the King would choose one. That was an ancient Castilian usage. Columbus would also have a right to a tenth of everything—pearls, gold, silver, other precious metals, spices—found in any new territories. On all ships taking part in commerce with those new territories, Columbus would be able to load an eighth of all goods. Finally, he was to be informed of any lawsuit that might take place as a result of commerce in or to those territories.31
The expedition planned by Columbus would not cost much: only 2 million maravedís in all. In comparison, the cost of the wedding of the Infanta Catalina in London to Prince Arthur was 60 million maravedís, and the annual income of the Duke of Medinaceli from El Puerto de Santa María alone was over 4 million.32 The monarchs would have spent far more than what they needed for Columbus’s journey on the spectacular wedding that they had organized in 1490 when their daughter Isabel married Prince Afonso of Portugal. “Who could recount the triumph, the celebrations, the jousts, the bands …” wrote the chronicler Bernáldez, who would afterwards receive Columbus as his guest at his curacy, of that occasion.33
Columbus’s 2 million were, all the same, raised in
a roundabout way. Thus the two senior treasurers of Aragon (Santangel) and Castile (Piñelo), a converso and a Genoese, respectively, would raise just over half of what was necessary, 1,140,000 maravedís, from profits from the sale of indulgences in the province of Extremadura.34 Then the small port of Palos on the Río Tinto, north of Huelva, owed the Crown the service of two ships for a year, for Diego Rodríguez Prieto, of that place, had robbed some Portuguese ships. It was agreed that Palos should settle this debt that had been assumed by the Crown of Castile by providing two ships to serve with Columbus. The town council of Palos and even most sailors there opposed the idea, but they were soothed by a well-known captain of the town, Martín Alonso Pinzón, who argued that there would be benefits for them.
The rest of the sum required for the journey was raised by Columbus himself, who borrowed some of it from his Florentine friend Juanotto Berardi, a dealer in many goods, including slaves, in Seville. He was an associate of the rich Florentine of Lisbon Bartolomeo Marchionni, who had interests in so many undertakings. Berardi had also, since 1489, been the leading representative of the younger branch of the Medici in Seville. Perhaps some other Italian merchants invested something, as probably did the Duke of Medinaceli.35