to dress themselves as Christians … and no tailor should dare to fashion clothes, or jeweler to create ornaments, in a Moorish style.”26 The ordinances of 1526 were in any case sufficiently broad-ranging to create a shock wave through the New Christian community in Granada, and a petition was made to the emperor for a grace period to lessen the impact of his decree (not unlike the contemporary plea from New Christians in Valencia). Their appeal met with success, and the edict was put on hold for forty years—in return for a hefty payment to the crown from the New Christian community in Granada.27
The struggle over clothing was an uphill battle for both sides in the middle of the sixteenth century. Many New Christians steadfastly retained their traditional styles of dress; royal legislation was not necessarily effective, fines and penalties could be ignored, and the Inquisition had promised not to intervene during the grace period negotiated in 1526. Clothing, also, was easily changed, and people who dutifully dressed in Christian fashions for public activities might switch back into their more comfortable and familiar older-style clothing when they returned home. Royal letters sent to the archbishop and Audiencia of Granada in 1530 lamented the backsliding of New Christian women, who had resumed dressing in Moorish clothing (“se han vuelto a poner el [hábito] morisco”) and in so doing “had forgotten Christian doctrine and committed many sins and offenses.”28 Later in the same year Charles’s empress, Isabella of Portugal, wrote directly to the New Christian community in Granada urging that they give up their past beliefs and errors in their ways of life, especially “the clothing and styles that you wore in the time when you were not Christians.” The letter even took on something of a personal tone, underlining Isabella’s concern over the issue: “we charge and entreat you to abandon these garments, and from now on to clothe and to dress yourselves and your children in clothing and styles after the manner that Old Christians wear in this kingdom, because as well as being something very important for the salvation and improvement of your souls, this will also give me much pleasure.”29
Perhaps some New Christians heeded her request, but a quarter century later, in 1554, the canons of the Synod of Guadix repeated similar accusations that some Moriscos were switching back and forth between the two different styles of clothing as evidence of their bad faith. By the middle of the sixteenth century, concerns about faith and identity had taken on new importance in light of the Reformation. Martín Pérez de Ayala, bishop of Guadix and convener of the synod in 1554, was also a participant at the Council of Trent and well aware of such problems. The Guadix synod gave specific instructions about clothing reforms and six months to put them into effect, after which “nobody should dare to wear Morisco clothing or styles, and they should especially abandon veils [savanas or sábanas], marlotas, and head coverings [atavio de las cabeças], and they must put on shawls, skirts, and head coverings [mantos y sayas y tocas] in the Christian style.”30
These rulings set the scene for the crackdown in 1567, when even more comprehensive restrictions on Morisco life were imposed in Granada. First, the legislation addressed those who made clothes. Henceforth, “no one among the newly converted in the said kingdom or among their descendants would be able to make or cut new almalafas or marlotas or any other types of shoes or clothes that were used or worn in the time of the Moors. And any new clothes that are made must conform to the styles that are worn by Old Christians, namely mantos and sayas.” The edict went on to lay out penalties, in prison terms and monetary fines, for first, second, and third offenses. Next, it addressed those who wore almalafas and marlotas, and permitted (once again) a grace period that allowed one year of further wear for fancy silk garments and two years for ordinary unornamented clothing. After that, nobody could wear such clothes, and they would be liable for the same penalties as those imposed on tailors. Finally, even while women continued to wear their almalafas during the grace period, they must be sure that their faces remained uncovered.31
This, then, was the situation that Francisco Núñez Muley was called on to address in his memorandum to the Audiencia in Granada, and which led him to try to disentangle the bond between religion and clothing styles. Ultimately, this was a lost cause, but the strategies of his argument illuminate various sides of the debate over Morisco clothing: religious, cultural, moral, economic, and visual. Núñez Muley began by reviewing the history of restrictions on clothing, going back to Queen Juana’s attempts to prevent tailors from making clothes in traditional styles and other early sixteenth-century decrees “prohibiting the wearing, weaving, and elaboration of Morisco clothing.”32 These rulings were never implemented, he says, not because of Morisco intransigence, but because Old Christian leaders of the city were either unaware of the new laws, or were opposed to them, or restrictions were suspended in return for payment. At the same time, from an economic perspective, people recognized that “overwhelming harm would be done to the natives by taking away their traditional style of dress, and great injury would also be done to those merchants who have invested their wealth in purchasing cloth for such clothing.”33 Pressing this fiscal argument, Núñez Muley estimated that 150,000 people would be required to purchase new clothes, of whom only a small fraction (he claims four or five thousand) would have the money to do so. Another option might be to cut up Morisco clothes and sew them together again as Christian-type garments, but the differences in the two styles made this impracticable. In the end, he concluded, lots of perfectly good clothes would have to be thrown away, and this (to make one last compelling point) would “greatly diminish royal rents as well as all things related to the taxes paid to the Royal Crown.”34
The primary issue that Núñez Muley had to contend with was the longheld correlation between clothing styles and religious faith. As he argued, “the prelates contend that the preservation of the traditional style of dress and footwear of the natives of this kingdom is tantamount to a continuation of the ceremonies and customs of the Muslims. I can only say, My Lord, that in my modest judgment (which has nonetheless helped me to reach old age) these reports are wholly without merit.”35 This launches him into his argument (quoted at the start of this chapter) that traditional clothing styles were in fact merely an expression of regional identity, not religious affiliation. In support of this, he points out that clothing styles vary between different regions of Castile and in other Christian kingdoms and provinces, just as styles differ between Granada, Morocco, and Turkey, even though all inhabitants of the latter two lands are Muslim, so “it follows that one cannot establish or state that the clothing of the new converts is that of Muslims.” Furthermore, Christians from Jerusalem have been seen “wearing clothing and head coverings similar to what is worn in the Maghreb and resembling in no way what is worn in Castile—and yet they are Christians.”36
Finally, regarding style, he observes that fashions change over time and thus modern Morisco everyday clothes were much closer to Castilian styles (being shorter, lighter, and cheaper) than they had been at the start of the century. This is in contrast to costly festive garments, only brought out for weddings and celebrations, which—he admits—tend to be carefully preserved and passed down from generation to generation.37 New Christian men had quickly adopted new styles and now “wear wholly Castilian clothing. If the natives’ hearts were truly obstinate, then they would no doubt think that changing their style of dress would compromise their religion … and yet the men do not dress now as they used to.” According to Núñez Muley, this shift was a relatively easy process since male clothes and shoes wear out quickly and need to be regularly replaced in any case, and “seeing that the Castilian style of dress is better and more suited to men … they began to wear Castilian clothing as they do today by their own free will and without any complaint whatsoever. This has been the custom here for over forty years,” despite which New Christians have not yet received any relief from the special taxes and restrictions that still set them apart from Old Christians.38 Women’s fashions were a different matter, and traditional styles persisted into the later sixteenth century, especially wearing the distinctive and enveloping almalafa, and Núñez Muley spoke forcefully about the benefits of modesty and protection, afforded to both Old and New Christian women, provided by covering their heads and faces.39
Underlying
