Spain has had a long history of exiles. Since the destruction of the last Muslim territories in Granada in 1492, wave after wave of its people have been driven from the country.

The Disinherited paints a vivid picture of Spain’s diverse exiles, from Muslims, Jews and Protestants to Liberals, Socialists and Communists, artists, writers and musicians. Kamen describes the ways in which many of these expelled citizens have shaped Spanish culture – or impoverished it by leaving – and enriched their adopted homes through their creative responses to exile and to encounters with new worlds, Picasso, Miró, Dali and Buñuel among them. Henry Kamen’s compelling and sympathetic account tells the story of their incalculable impact on the world.

                     Prelude: 1492 – A Cultural Legacy

The attempted assassination was carefully planned. In the streets of Barcelona it was a crisp, clear December in the year 1492, the seventh day of the month and bright with Mediterranean sunshine. Excited groups of people gathered in the small Plaza del Rey to welcome their king, Ferdinand of Aragon, who was in the palace of the Diputacio attending a meeting about judicial matters. He had been in the city since 18 October, with his wife Queen Isabella of Castile, but was attending the court meeting alone. At the end of the session, the officials left the courtroom and began to move down the staircase. As Ferdinand descended with them, the assassin darted out from hiding and aimed a knife blow at the back of his neck. Fortunately, a gold collar chain deflected the point of the blade, which, however, plunged deep between the king’s shoulder blades. Ferdinand fell to the ground, crying ‘Santa Maria! Treason, treason!’ His attendants leapt on the assassin and used their weapons to stab him in three places, but Ferdinand had enough presence of mind to prevent them killing him. Half conscious, the king was lifted up and borne carefully to the royal palace.

News of the murder attempt spread rapidly through the city. Queen Isabella heard of it a short while before they brought her husband back, and fainted away at the news. When she recovered, she reacted with her customary composure. Fearing that the attack on Ferdinand was part of a more serious conspiracy, she ordered that a ship be made ready in the port to sail away if necessary with her children. Since their marriage in 1469, Princess Isabella of Castile and Prince Ferdinand of Aragon had faced a long uphill struggle to consolidate their authority. By the 1470s they were effective rulers, though their respective realms, ‘Castile’ and ‘Aragon’, remained wholly independent units within a broader territory called ‘Spain’. Within the realm of Aragon, the province of Catalonia together with its capital Barcelona had recently been the scene of two major rebellions, of the nobility against the king, and of the peasants against their lords. Isabella could not be sure whether the present incident was a continuation of one or other of the troubles. The king’s condition turned out to be more serious than first thought. The wound was small, but the blade had penetrated to the bone and fractured it, so that surgeons had to remove the broken bit of bone. Ferdinand became feverish. Seven days after the attempt his condition deteriorated and it was feared that he would die.