EXPULSION OF THE JEWS.
TORQUEMADA RESOLVES UPON IMMEDIATE EXPULSION OF ALL UNCONVERTED
JEWS.--THE FATAL EDICT.--THE SPANIARDS MOVED TO PITY.--DON ISAAC
ABARBANEL PLEADS WITH THE QUEEN.--THE QUEEN HESITATES.--TORQUEMADA,
THE FIEND, CONQUERS AGAIN.--THE ILL-FATED JEWS SEEK AMONG THE DEAD
THE PITY WHICH THE LIVING REFUSE.--THE DEPARTURE.
With tearful eyes and bleeding heart we have seen portrayed the
mournful and tragic fate of the Jews and Moors in Spain. We were
unwilling eye-witnesses to sufferings and cruelties, which we knew
had never been equalled, and thought could never be surpassed. We
thought we had seen the climax of maniacal fanaticism. We thought
well might Thomas de Torquemada recline now beneath the laurels of
infamous immortality he had won for himself, and henceforth concentrate
his frenzied zeal upon religious efforts, less iron-hearted and less
murderous. We thought now that Spain had completely vanquished the
Moor, had degraded the Jews, had successfully taught the "convert"
Jews a most "burning" love for the Christian faith, by means of the
Inquisition's pitiless, slaughtering tribunal, now that greed and
bigotry and viciousness and ambition had been satiated, we thought
Ferdinand and Isabella would halt in their unpitying and unmerciful
career, would pause long enough to gaze upon the terrible calamities
they had inflicted upon the realm and upon innocent people, and would
hasten to amend their ways, and repair their great wrongs.
It was natural for us to think so. It is the experience of mankind that
reaction accompanied by remorse, ever follows close upon the heels
of rampant fury; that generosity and clemency, however fiercely the
infuriated storms had lashed them into savage atrocity, will seek and
find again their unruffled calm. It is therefore we stand aghast at
beholding the next brutish inhumanity of Torquemada. Of a truth, he is
not man but fiend, for to him principles which guide the actions of
human beings are not applicable. For him there exists no reaction and
no remorse, no generosity and no clemency. Where the most cruel of the
cruel tremble at the mere thought, he executes sportively and in cold
blood. Where others rest their blood-reeking weapons in the belief
that they have reached, at last, the summit of crime, he heartlessly
advances as upon mere stepping stones to far greater cruelties to come.
He knew why he apprehended assassination now. He knew why he secured
an escort now of fifty horse and two hundred foot. He was about to
perpetrate a crime that should throw into the shade all that he had
enacted hitherto.
The fate of the Moors had been decided. The Inquisition thinned
the ranks of the "convert" Jews. The unconverted Jews, they that
had preferred degradation to baptism; they that had preferred to
take up their wretched abode as degraded outcasts in the prescribed
outskirts of the cities, to feigning adherence to a faith which their
hearts hated; they that had sacrificed with singular resignation all
that honest toil had honestly secured, and donned the garberdine of
disgrace, and followed the degrading vocations enforced upon them
by cruel laws, and suffered everywhere meekly unprovoked jeers,
insult, outrage, assault, these must be dealt with now. Torquemada
was resolved, and with him resolve was equal to execution, that in
Spain the sun should shine upon none but pure Catholics, that the
atmosphere of Spain should no longer be polluted by the presence of
Jews; that none but "pious" Christians should tread upon its holy soil.
He resolved upon expelling the Jews forever. They had long clogged the
wheels of his triumphal car. He knew that there was a secret communion
between "converted" and unconverted Jews. He knew that it was mainly
due to their religious influence that the convert Jews relapsed again
into Judaism. He knew that they provided spiritually and physically
for the poverty-stricken and branded families of those of their race,
whom the Inquisition burned, and whose possessions it confiscated. He
knew that, despite rigorous measures and Dominican spies, converted
and unconverted Jews met in subterranean caverns, and counseled and
worshipped together, and comforted each other. He hit upon a cure
at last. He knew a remedy that would remove the clog forever. He
counselled immediate expulsion of all unconverted Jews.
In the year 1492, in the year in which Columbus discovered a new world,
in the year in which the Jewish sailor of Columbus' crew first set foot
upon the virgin soil of the western Hemisphere,[40] strange fatality,
in the same year that Spain opens domains vast, destined to become the
land of the free, the blessed haven for the politically and racially
and religiously persecuted; in the same year, the year 1492, she
opens her portals at home, only to thrust out, mercilessly, brutally,
hundreds of thousands of unoffending, industrious, intelligent people,
closes the gates behind them, and keeps them barred nigh unto four
hundred years.
[40] The first Jew came to America with Christopher Columbus.
His name was Louis de Parres. He was one of the 120 companions
of Columbus, and the only one, who understood the Shemitic
languages. He and Rodrigo de Gerez were the first white men
whom Columbus set on shore. (_See "Geschichte des Zeitalters
der Entdeckungen von Prof Sophus Ruge._)
On the 30th of March, 1492, the edict for the expulsion of the Jews
from Spain was signed by the Spanish sovereigns at Granada. Torquemada
had triumphed. He had conquered the scruples of king and queen and
Grandees. The edict, schemed and defended by him, had passed, and the
faithful execution thereof he took upon himself. Heralds proclaimed
from the street corners of every hamlet and village and city of Spain,
that all unconverted Jews, of whatever sex or age or condition, should
depart from the realm before the expiration of four months, never to
revisit it, on any pretext whatever, under penalty of death, that
all who should remain in the realm after the expiration of the four
months would be put to death, as also all such Christian subjects,
who should harbor, succor, or minister to the necessities of any Jew,
after the expiration the term limited for his departure; that the Jews
dispose in the meanwhile of their possessions as best they can, but are
prohibited, under penalty of death, from having gold or silver in their
possession at the time of their departure.
* * * * *
Unfortunate Jews! It was an idle hope when, seeing the sky lurid from
the burning of your brethren upon the _quemaderos_ (places of burning
heretics), you thought that the cup of your afflictions was full at
last. It was an idle hope, when, thinking of the invaluable services
you rendered unto Spain, you thought her people could not possibly
visit still greater calamities upon your innocent heads. Unfortunate
Jews! Ye thought not of Torquemada, the fiend, when you fondly nursed
these hopes.
When the edict was read from the corners of the streets and from the
cross-roads, as the words that convey the sentence of death, strike
terror in the heart of the condemned:
"So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker.
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then arose
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anguish." * *
_--Longfellow's "Evangeline."_
Maddening thought. Frenzied they rushed to and fro. Cries of terror
and despair pierced the air. The Sierra Morena to the South, and the
Pyrenees to the North re-echoed the heart-rending wailing of the
stricken ones.
Whither shall they flee? What country will dare offer them hospitable
shores, when the greatest power in Europe thrusts them out helplessly,
defencelessly, with a brand of infamy upon their brow?
Maddening thought, to go forth as exiles from the land of their birth,
from their sweet domestic hearths, where they were wont to sit and tell
of their long and proud and glorious past; to go forth from Spain,
whose very soil seemed holy in their eyes; to leave Spain, that had
been their fatherland for 1500 years, and more, long before the race of
their present persecutors had heard of it, or had yet been civilized;
to leave behind all that is near and dear to the human heart; the
home of their proud achievements; the soil that held the graves of
their own relatives and friends and of their illustrious sires, whose
names had shed a brilliancy of light, that illuminated the darkness of
their ages, and all the ages since; to leave Spain, whose very name
was rapture to their souls; to leave it, never to return again; to
leave home, possessions, friends, and go forth into the very jaws of
death--on, ye Dominican fiends; slay them at once. If die they must,
let them breathe their last upon the soil, which, next to Palestine,
they worshipped most, but thrust them not out to perish in foreign
lands.
Nay, we cannot conceive, to-day, the terror of this edict. Imagine,
forbid it God--the very thought makes us shudder--imagine that an
edict were suddenly to be issued that the 300,000 Jews of the United
States--such was the number of the Jews of Spain--should be exiled
from this country after the expiration of four months, never to return
again; imagine such a calamity to befall us here, where our past is
not yet a century old, and where the memories and associations of the
past are not so deeply rooted as were those of Spain; imagine that
we were told to go forth, branded with infamy, to cope, helplessly
and defencelessly, and hopelessly with a hostile world; told to leave
behind all that honest toil had gained for us; imagine that we had to
assemble at the sea coast on a given day, to be packed into ships, like
so many cattle, wives torn from husbands, babes from mothers, brothers
from sisters, and then carried off, thousands of us to be hurled into
the foaming deep, thousands to perish from want and exposure and
cruelty, thousands to be disembarked upon uninhabited islands to be
left a prey to wild beasts and starvation, thousands to be dropped
on foreign shores, only to meet with still greater cruelties than
were hitherto inflicted. Picture to yourself, if you can, miseries as
terrible as these, happening unto us to-day, forbid it Heaven!--and
even then will you only barely realize the calamity of this edict.
The sad fate which awaited the Jews touched the hearts of even the
Spaniards. A delegation of them, including the most powerful grandees
of the realm, waited upon the sovereigns, and implored them to revoke
the terrible decree. Ferdinand and Isabella turned deaf ears to their
entreaties. The great Don Isaac Abarbanel, the last of the brilliant
lights of the Jews in Spain, a high officer in the service of Queen
Isabella, threw himself at her feet, and in heart-rending sobs he burst
forth:
"Ask for our life, and it is thine; ask for all our possessions, they
are thine, but if live we must, then, Illustrious Queen, drive us not
from off the soil of Spain which is dearer to us than our life."
For a moment her inflexible will wavered, another moment, and the
mourning of 300,000 people might have been turned to rejoicing, and the
doom of Spain might have been averted, and the history of Europe might
have had a different reading to-day. But that other moment was never to
come. Torquemada, who listened in an adjoining chamber to Abarbanel's
tearful entreaty, and to the queen's yielding words, rushed into the
royal presence, almost mad with fury, and pointing to the crucifix, he
shrieked:
"Behold Him whom Judas Iscariot sold for thirty pieces of silver! Sell
him now for a higher price, and render an account of your bargain
before God!"
The fiend had conquered again. The queen is on her knees before him,
imploring forgiveness for her moment's weakness.
A gloom pervaded the entire realm, as the time of the departure drew
hastily on. The Jews, attired in the deepest mourning, wandered
restlessly about the streets. Peace dwelled no longer in their homes.
Their fountain of tears had run dry. Their words became fewer, and more
and more painful. When children twined their little arms lovingly
about their parents' neck, when pining husbands gazed upon their
drooping wives, and in their mournful silence asked one another: A
month hence, a fortnight hence, a week hence, to-morrow, where will
father be? Where will mother be? What fate awaits husband, and what
misery shall fall upon wife? What cruelty shall subdue brother, and
to what life of infamy shall sister be sold? When upon such questions
they brooded, and when did they not? madness seized upon them, and they
rushed out to the burial places, and there, among the dead, they sought
the pity and mercy and consolation the living could not give; there, in
the graveyards, they lingered among the tombs of their dear departed,
sometimes for three or four days in succession, not a morsel of food
nor a drop of water passing their lips. And as they fixed their gaze
upon the stately palms, that shaded them and the graves of their dead,
with aching heart they lingered low:
"More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scattered race;
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace;
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
But we must wander witheringly
In other lands to die;
And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie."
_--Byron's "Hebrew Melodies."_
Meanwhile the Spanish clergy was not idle. In the synagogues, in
the public squares, in the open streets they preached the Love and
Gentleness of the Redeemer, and appealed by argument, and by foul
invectives, to the Jews, to accept the few drops of baptismal water,
and remain in their adored native land. The Jews listened with a sullen
indifference to these harangues. The suffering they endured for their
faith convinced them more than ever of the absurdity of that religion
which could inflict such cruelties. The treatment which the "convert"
Jews received at the hands of their "Christian" brethren was surely not
such as could inspire them with a burning desire for a change of faith.
Rather exile, separation from fond home and fonder family, rather death
than adopt a faith that fattened on blood and thrived on cruelty. "Let
us remain firm," they cried to cheer on one another, "strong in our
faith before our God, unyielding before our foes. We will live, if
we are to live, if we are to die, we will die. Yet, living or dying,
our covenant let us not desecrate; let our hearts never despair, let
us never forsake, not even in the darkest hour, the living God of
Israel." Noble sons and daughters of Israel. Ye sainted spirits of our
departed ancestors of Spain, our hearts are filled with noble pride as
we recount your heroic devotion to our God-given faith. In vain we turn
the leaves of Historic record to find a parallel to your unswerving
homage to conviction. Time can not diminish the lustre of your
self-sacrificing deeds for the cause of Israel's truths. Four hundred
years have silently emptied into the interminable Ocean of Time, and
still Jew and Gentile, believer and unbeliever, all who worship at
the shrine of political and racial and religious liberty, name you
but to bless you, and are themselves inspired to virtue by their very
breathing of your sainted names and heroic deeds.
At last the day for their departure arrived, August 2nd, 1492, the 9th
day of _Ab. Tisha b'Ab_, 5252. The time had expired July 31, but they
had implored for two days of grace, that this, their great calamity,
might fall on _Tisha b'Ab_, the 9th of _Ab_, the annual day of fasting,
the most calamitous day in the history of Israel.
It was on that day (586 B. C.) that _Nebukadneezar_ laid the Temple of
Solomon in ruins, and led the children of Israel from Palestine, as
captives, to Babylon.
It was on that day (70 A. C.) that _Titus_ destroyed the Second Temple,
ended forever the political power and national life of Israel, and
thrust the children of Israel from their native soil, the sacred soil
of Palestine.
It was on that day (135 A. C.) that the fate of the _Barkochba_
revolution was decided, and the last hope of Israel for political
independence had vanished, and vanished forever.
And it was in the early morning of the same fatal day _Tisha b'Ab,
5252, August 2, 1492_, that the Jews of Spain repaired to their
synagogues to worship there, for the last time, to sit upon the ground,
with dust and ashes upon their heads, and girded with sack cloth, and
read in accents sad, in accordance with an old established custom in
Israel, Jeremiah's "_Lamentations_" over the destruction of the Temple,
over the fall of Jerusalem and over the exile of the children of Israel
into Babylon. They had read the "Lamentations" before, they had read
them year after year with tremulous lips, with accents fervent and
deep, but they never knew their meaning before. That morning the broken
heart spoke. And oh, what wails of sorrow, what sobs of contrition,
what passionate out-breaks, as they repeated the verses:
"How does the city sit solitary, that was full of people. How is she
become as a widow! she that was great among the nations. She weepeth
sore in the night and her tears are on her cheeks, among all her
friends she hath none to comfort her. Judah is gone into captivity
because of affliction, she dwelleth among the nations, she findeth
no rest. Her adversaries are powerful, her enemies prosper, all that
honored her despise her. It is nothing to you, all ye that pass by?
Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is
done unto me. Zion spreadeth forth her hands and there is none to
comfort her. They cried unto them: Depart ye, ye are unclean, touch
not, when they fled away and wandered, they said among the nations:
they shall no more sojourn there. They hunt our steps, that we cannot
go into our streets, our end is near, our days are fulfilled, for our
end is come."
And forth they went from the house of God, the old and the young, the
sick and the helpless, virgin and youth, bride and groom, man, woman,
child, with hearts bleeding, with steps tottering, with faces haggard
and hollow and wan, with figure bent, and spirit broken as they gazed
with a vacant stare for the last time upon their emptied homes upon
the desolate scenes of childhood and youth.
On they went, overwhelmed yet speechless. But over them a chorus of
martyr spirits, they that on that day perished, for their faith's sake,
at the siege of Nebuchadnezzar, they on that day breathed their last
for Israel's sake, at the siege of Titus, they that on that day had
died with the death of Israel's hope, at the siege of Julius Severus,
over the exiles of Spain, these martyr spirits chanted with doleful
voices:
"Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
Mourn--where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell!
And when shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?
And Judah's melody once more rejoice
The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?
Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country--Israel but the grave."
_Byron's "Hebrew Melodies."_
[Illustration]
TORQUEMADA.
Dunkle duestere Gestalten
Harren muerrisch vor dem Thore:
"Heut erfolgt der Juden Auszug,
Heut ist der Termin verflossen!"
Boshaft wollen sie sich weiden
An dem Auszug der Verstoss'nen,
Und sie grinsen selbstzufrieden
Ob des Schicksals der Verstockten.
Einer ist's zumal, dess Grinsen
Teufelsbosheit von sich lodert,
Seine Blicke Schlangenblicke,
Sein Gebiss von Gift geschwollen;
Seine Worte Feuerschluende,
Sein Verlangen Tod und Moder,
Die Vernichtung seine Tritte,
Die Verwuestung sein Gefolge.
Wie sie zischeln die Gestalten,
Muerrisch harrend vor dem Thore.
"Nur Geduld, Dominikaner!"
Ruft jetzt jener Hoellenbote.
"Wie mein Name Torquemada,
Will ich weiter dafuer sorgen,
Dass die jetzt das Land verlassen,
Nicht entgehen sicherm Tode.
Fast war schon ihr Wunsch erfuellet,
Zu verbleiben unserm Boden,
Jener juedische Minister
Hatte Gold, viel Gold geboten.
Doch ich eilte zur Alhambra
Und das Crucifix erhoben,
Sprach ich zu dem Koenigspaare
Die entscheidend wucht'chen Worte:
Judas hat fuer dreissig Muenzen
Treuelos den Herrn geopfert,
Und ihr wollet ihn verkaufen,
Arg geblendet von dem Golde?
Nun, so nehmt ihn und verkaufet
Euren Heiland, wie ihr wollet;
Hier ist er, o nehmt ihn gierig,
Wenn's euch duerstet nach dem Golde!
Diese Rede hat entschieden
Und ihr werdet heut die Horde
Aus dem Lande ziehen sehen,
Bald erscheinen sie am Thore."--
Wie die drei Dominikaner
Harrt die Menge vor dem Thore.
Die in wilder Schadenfreude
Ob der Judensoehne spottet.
Torquemada naht der Masse
Und mit argen, list'gen Worten
Weiset er auf all' die Schaetze,
Die den Ausgewies'nen folgen.
Schelmisch weiss er sie zu hetzen
Gegen die verfehmten Opfer,
Und ertheilet mild den Ablass
Auf das Pluendern auf das Morden.
Welches Jubeln, welches Wimmern,
Welches Pfeifen welches Trommeln
Dringt jetzt aus der Stadt herueber
Zu der Menge vor dem Thore!
Aber welcher Schauer fast uns
Bei dem Anblick dieses Volkes!
Sind es Schatten, sind es Geister,
Die an uns vorueberkommen?
Starren Blickes, gramvoll keuchend,
Ihren Ruecken tief gebogen,
Leichensteine ihre Lasten,
Moosbewachsen und geborsten.
Ach, es sind die einz'gen Schaetze,
Die den Elenden jetzt folgen,
Zum Gedaechtniss ihrer Ahnen,
Die da ruh'n in spanischem Boden.
Taeglich vor dem schweren Auszug
Weilten sie bei ihren Todten,
Weinten auf den theuren Graebern,
Ehe sie von dannen zogen.
Und sie zogen, wie die Lehrer
Gottergeben es geboten,
Dass nicht die Verzweiflung nahe,
Unter Pfeifen, unter Trommeln.
Ob auch viele wimmernd klagten,
Sang man doch zum Lobe Gottes
Und den tiefen Schmerz erdrueckend
Riefen sie das Sch'ma Israel!
Fast erschrocken von dem Anblick
Stand die Menge vor dem Thore,
Mitleid fuellte alle Herzen,
Und es schwand die Lust, zu morden.
Kaum gewahrte Torquemada
Judas wildgehetzte Sprossen,
Schaeumt er auf im Rachegeifer,
Und er grollt im finstern Zorne:
"Koennt' ich baden in dem Blute
Der von Gott so lang Verworf'nen,
Sollt' ich auch darin ertrinken,
Nichts verglich ich solcher Wonne!"
Also raset Torquemada
Und er sinket wie ein Todter
In den Arm der Ordensbrueder,
Die ein jaeher Schreck getroffen.
Judas Schaaren zieh'n vorueber
Unter Pfeifen unter Trommeln,
Allen Jammer uebertoenet:
"Jubelt Voelker, unserm Gotte!"
Aus dem Fieberwahn erwachet
Torquemada und er tobet:
"Seht ihr dort nicht die Gesellen,
Wie sie spannen ihren Bogen?
Wie sie nach dem Herzen zielen!
Helft! sie wollen mich erdrosseln,
Helft! sie wollen mich vergiften!
Ist das Einhorn nicht am Orte?[41]"
"Herr des Himmels, sei uns gnaedig!"
Rufen die Inquisitoren,
"Unser Fuehrer ist von Sinnen,
Sein Verstand ist ihm genommen!"
Aus der Ferne immer leiser
Hoert man pfeifen, hoert man trommeln,
Jubeltoene dringen aufwaerts:
"Jauchzet Voelker, unserm Gotte!"
[41] alludes to the fact that Torquemada was in constant dread
of assassination, and that he always carried the horn of a
unicorn with him, believing that it would save him.
[Illustration]