PERSECUTIONS DURING THE SECOND CRUSADE AND UNDER THE ALMOHADES.
Condition of the Jews in France--The Second Crusade--Peter
the Venerable and the Monk Rudolph--Bernard of Clairvaux and
the Emperor Conrad--Protectors of the Jews--Persecutions
under the Almohades--Abdulmumen and his Edict--The Prince
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra--The Karaites in Spain--Jehuda Hadassi--
The historian Abraham Ibn-Daud and his Philosophy--Abraham
Ibn-Ezra--Rabbenu Tam.
1143-1170 C. E.
When the greatest neo-Hebraic poet complained, "Have we a home in
the West or in the East?" his sensitive heart was probably filled
with foreboding concerning the insecurity of his co-religionists.
Only too soon was the Jewish race to realize the awful truth that it
possessed no home on earth, and that it was only tolerated in the
lands of its exile. As long as the intolerant religious principles of
the Church and of the Mosque remained inoperative, either by reason
of the indifference, or the inertia, or the selfish pursuits of their
adherents, the Jews lived in comparative happiness; but when religious
hatred was aroused, torture and martyrdom fell upon Israel, and again
he was compelled to grasp the wanderer's staff, and with bleeding heart
depart from his dearly beloved home. Although the Jews in general,
and especially their leaders, the rabbis and sages, were, as a rule,
superior to the Christian and Mahometan peoples in devotion to God,
in morality, in refinement and knowledge, yet those to whom the earth
belonged imagined themselves on a higher level, and with lordly
haughtiness looked down upon the Jews as common slaves. In Christian
countries they were declared outlaws, because they would not believe
in the Son of God and many other things; and in a Mahometan realm they
were persecuted because they would not acknowledge Mahomet as the
prophet. In one land they were expected to do violence to their reason
and to accept fables as sober truths, and in another they were asked
to renounce their faith and take in its stead dry formulæ, tinged with
philosophy. Both held out the cheerless choice between death and the
renunciation of their ancient religion. The French and the Germans
rivaled the savage Moors in the energy with which they strove to
enfeeble still more the weakest of the peoples. On the banks of the
Seine, the Rhine and the Danube, on the shores of Africa and in the
south of Spain, there arose simultaneously, as though preconcerted,
bloody persecutions against the Jews, in the name of religion, despite
the fact that all that was good and divine in the oppressors' creeds
owed its origin to this people. Hitherto persecutions of the Jews had
been few and far between; but from the year 1146 they became more
frequent, more severe, and more persistent. It seemed as if the age in
which the light of intelligence had begun to dawn upon mankind desired
to exceed in inhumanity the epochs of darkest barbarism. This period
of suffering imprinted on the features of the Jewish race that air of
suffering, that martyr's look, which even the present age of freedom
has not effaced. "The meaning of the prophet," said Ibn-Ezra, "when
he cries, 'He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not
his mouth,' requires no commentary, for every Jew in exile illustrates
it. When he is afflicted he does not open his mouth to protest that he
is more righteous than his tormentor. He keeps his look directed only
towards God, and neither prince nor noble assists him in his distress."
The persecutions that spread simultaneously over Europe and Africa
had their sources in catastrophes that occurred in Asia and Africa.
Whilst the Christian knights in the new kingdom of Jerusalem and in
the neighboring princedoms were sinking into inactivity, the Turkish
warrior, Nureddin, who had determined to drive the Christians from
Asia, began his attacks upon them. The important city of Edessa fell
into his hands, and the crusaders, now at their wits' end, were
compelled to implore help from Europe. The second crusade was now
preached in France and Germany, and bloodthirsty fanaticism was again
aroused against the Jews.
King Louis VII of France, conscience-stricken, took the cross, and
with him went the young and frivolous Queen Eleanora, together with
the dames of the court, who transformed the camp of the warriors of
God into a court of gallantry. The Abbot Bernard of Clairvaux, a truly
pious man, of apostolic simplicity of heart, and renowned for his
powerful eloquence, energetically exhorted Christians to take part
in this crusade, and owing to his influence the troops of pilgrims
marching against the infidels increased day by day. This time it was
Pope Eugenius III who turned the attention of the crusaders towards
the Jews. He issued a bull announcing that all those who joined in the
holy war were absolved from the payment of interest on debts owing to
Jews. This was an inducement for the numerous debtors of the Jews to
participate in the crusade, and was in reality only a veiled permission
to repudiate their indebtedness to the Jews. The Abbot Bernard, who at
other times disdained to employ unholy means to compass a holy end,
was obliged, at the command of the Pope, to preach this repudiation
of debts. Another abbot, Peter the Venerable, of Clugny, desired to
push the matter still further. He roused King Louis and the army of
the crusaders directly against the Jews. He heaped charges upon them,
exaggerating their offenses so as to incite the prejudiced monarch
to persecute or at least plunder them. In a letter to Louis VII he
repeated the sophistries and falsehoods which the marauding mobs of the
first crusade had invented in order to palliate their plundering of the
Jews in the name of religion.
"Of what use is it," wrote Peter of Clugny, "to go forth to seek the
enemies of Christendom in distant lands, if the blasphemous Jews, who
are much worse than the Saracens, are permitted in our very midst to
scoff with impunity at Christ and the sacrament! The Saracen at least
believes as we do that Christ was born of a virgin, and yet he is
execrable, since he denies the incarnation. How much more these Jews
who disbelieve everything, and mock at everything! Yet I do not require
you to put to death these accursed beings, because it is written,
'Do not slay them.' God does not wish to annihilate them, but like
Cain, the fratricide, they must be made to suffer fearful torments,
and be preserved for greater ignominy, for an existence more bitter
than death. They are dependent, miserable and terror-stricken, and
must remain in that state until they are converted to the Saviour.
You ought not to kill them, but to afflict them in a manner befitting
their baseness." The holy man besought the king to deprive the Jews
either altogether or in part of their possessions, since the crusading
army, which was marching against the Saracens, did not spare its own
property and lands, and certainly should not spare the ill-gotten
treasures of the Jews. Only their bare life should be left to them,
but their money forfeited, for the audacity of the Saracens would be
more easily subdued if the hands of the Christians were strengthened
by the wealth of the blasphemous Jews. This method of reasoning is
certainly consistent; it is the logic of the Middle Ages. King Louis,
though well-disposed towards the Jews, could not do less in obedience
to the papal bull than allow the crusaders to absolve themselves from
their Jewish debts. For the moment the persecution limited itself to
the plundering of the rich Jews, who were reduced to the state of their
poorer brethren. The friendly monarch and his wise ministers, together
with the Abbot Suger, and especially the pious Bernard, who knew how to
control men's minds, would not permit a universal bloody persecution.
Affairs took a different course in Germany, and particularly in the
cities along the Rhine, whose congregations had scarcely recovered from
the wounds of the first crusade. Emperor Conrad III was powerless; the
citizens who had as a rule taken the part of the Jews during the first
crusade, and had afforded them protection, were now, at the beginning
of the second crusade, prejudiced against them. A French monk, named
Rudolph, left his monastery without the permission of his superior,
and his fiery eloquence kindled the fanaticism of the German people
against the Jews. He believed that he was accomplishing a holy work in
securing the conversion or annihilation of the infidels. From town to
town, from village to village, Rudolph traveled preaching the crusade,
and he inserted in his addresses an exhortation that the crusade should
begin with the Jews. Matters would have been much worse for the German
Jews on this occasion, had not Emperor Conrad, who at first felt an
antipathy to the extravagant feeling engendered by the crusade, looked
after their safety. In the lands which were his by inheritance, he set
aside the city of Nuremburg and certain other fortresses as cities of
refuge for them, where the hand of the infuriated crusaders could not
reach them. He had no jurisdiction over the territories of the princes
and prelates, but he appears to have urged them all to extend their
powerful protection to the Jews. But the word of the emperor had but
little weight. In August, 1146, were sacrificed the first victims of
the persecution stirred up by Rudolph. Simon the Pious, of Treves,
whilst on his way home from England, tarried in Cologne. He was seized
by the crusaders as he was about to go on board a ship, and refusing
to be baptized, he was murdered and his body mutilated. Also a woman
named Minna, of Speyer, who had suffered the terrible tortures of the
rack, remained steadfast to her faith. These occurrences prompted the
Jews dwelling by the Rhine to look round for protection. They paid
immense sums to the princes, to be permitted to live in the fortresses
and castles for safety. The Cardinal Bishop Arnold of Cologne gave
them the castle of Wolkenburg, near Königswinter, and allowed them to
defend themselves with arms. Wolkenburg became a refuge for many of the
congregations of the district. As long as the Jews remained in their
places of refuge they were safe; but as soon as they ventured forth,
the Christian pilgrims, who lay in ambush for them, dragged them away
to be baptized, killing those that resisted, after subjecting them to
inhuman treatment. The prelates of the Rhine were, however, disgusted
with the preaching of the crusade as carried on by the monk Rudolph,
nor did they approve of the massacres of the Jews, particularly as
these gave rise to dissensions and feuds, and Rudolph even emboldened
the populace to disobey the bishops. The Archbishop of Mayence, Henry
I, who was at the same time chancellor and prime minister to the
emperor, had admitted into his house some of the Jews who were pursued
by the mob. The riotous crowd forced its way in, and murdered them
before his very eyes. The archbishop then addressed himself to the most
distinguished representative of Christianity of that time, Bernard of
Clairvaux, who had more power than the Pope. He depicted to him the
outrages that Rudolph had fomented in the Rhine country, and prayed
him to exercise his authority. Bernard, who strongly disapproved of
the doings of Rudolph, willingly gave the archbishop his support. He
despatched a letter to the Archbishop of Mayence, intended to be read
in public. In this letter he energetically condemned the agitator;
he called Rudolph an outlawed son of the Church, who had fled from
his cloister, had been faithless to the rules of his order, maligned
the bishops, and who, in opposition to the principles of the Church,
preached to simple-minded Christians, murder and massacre of the Jews.
The Jews ought, on the contrary, to be carefully spared. The Church
hoped that at a certain time they would be converted _en masse_, and a
prayer for that especial purpose had been instituted for Good Friday.
Could the hope of the Church be fulfilled if the Jews were altogether
annihilated? Bernard sent another letter written in the same spirit
to the clergy and people of France and Bavaria, wherein he expressly
admonished them to spare the Jews.
But the letters of Bernard made no impression upon Rudolph and the
misguided mob; they were bent upon the complete destruction of the
Jews, and on all sides lay in wait for them. The Abbot of Clairvaux
accordingly found it necessary to protest in person against the
slaughter of the Jews. When at about this time he made a journey
into Germany in order to induce Emperor Conrad to take part in the
crusade, he tarried in the towns on the Rhine in order to counteract
the fiendish plans of Rudolph. He addressed him in very severe terms,
and prevailed on him to desist from preaching the massacre of the Jews,
and to return to his monastery. The deluded people murmured against
the actions of Bernard, and had he not been protected by his sacred
calling, they would have attacked him. Rudolph disappeared from the
scene, but the poisonous seeds scattered abroad by him worked the
destruction of the Jews. As the bulk of the people became inflamed
by the sermons of Bernard on behalf of the crusade, its fury against
the Jews increased. The people were more consistent than the saint
of Clairvaux and the bishops, and their logic could not be shaken.
They said, "If it is a godly deed to slay unbelieving Turks, it
surely cannot be a sin to massacre unbelieving Jews." At about this
time the lacerated limbs of a Christian were discovered at Würzburg,
and the crusaders who were assembled there believed, or pretended to
believe that the Jews had butchered the man. They took this pretext to
attack the congregation at Würzburg. The Jews of this city were under
the protection of Bishop Embicho, and dwelt in tranquillity in the
city, not deeming it necessary to seek a place of refuge. The terror
which seized them was therefore the greater, when they were suddenly
attacked by a crowd of crusaders (22 Adar, 24 Feb., 1147). More than
twenty met martyrs' deaths, among them the distinguished and gentle
Rabbi Isaac ben Eliakim, who was slain whilst reading a holy book.
Some were cruelly maltreated, and left as dead, but were afterwards
restored to life, and carefully tended by compassionate Christians.
The humane Bishop of Würzburg assigned a burial-place in his own
garden for the bodies of the martyrs, and sent the survivors into a
castle near Würzburg. The lot of the German Jews became still more
lamentable when the emperor Conrad with his knights and army joined the
crusading expedition, and the mobs who were left behind, unchecked by
the presence of the emperor, were at liberty to commit fearful outrages
(May, 1147).
The savage spirit of murder in the name of piety was rapidly
communicated from Germany to France, on the assembling of the crusaders
in the spring. In Carenton (Department de la Manche) there was a
determined battle between the Christian pilgrims and the Jews. The
latter had gathered in a house, and defended themselves against
invasion. Two brothers, with the true courage of Frenchmen, fought like
heroes, dealing wounds right and left, and slew many crusaders, until
their foes, infuriated by the loss of so many men, found an entrance
into the court, attacked the Jews in the rear, and massacred them all.
Among the martyrs of this time in France was a young scholar named
Peter, a pupil of Samuel ben Meïr and Tam, who, in spite of his youth,
had already distinguished himself among the Tossafists. At no great
distance from the monastery of Clairvaux, under the eyes of the Abbot
Bernard, the savage bands of the crusaders continued undismayed to
carry on their bloody work. They fell upon the Jewish congregation at
Rameru on the second day of Pentecost, forced their way into the house
of Jacob Tam, who was the most distinguished man among the European
Jews on account of his virtues and his learning, robbed him of all
his possessions, tore to pieces a scroll of the Law, and dragged him
into a field, intending to put him to death by torture. As Tam was
the most famous man among the Jews, the crusaders desired to avenge
on him the wounds and death of Jesus. They had already inflicted five
wounds on his head, and he was about to succumb, when fortunately a
knight with whom he was acquainted happened to pass along the road. Tam
still retained sufficient consciousness to implore his help, which the
knight promised to afford, on condition that he receive a fine horse
as a reward. The knight then told the band of assassins to hand the
victim over to him, and he would either prevail on him to be baptized,
or else return him to their hands. Thus was saved the man who was the
leader and model of the German and French Jews (8 May, 1147). Through
the influence of Bernard no Jew hunts took place in France, except at
Carenton, Rameru and Sully. In England, where since the time of William
the Conqueror many Jews had settled, who were in communication with
the French congregations, there were no persecutions, as King Stephen
vigorously protected them. The Jews of Bohemia, however, again suffered
severely when the crusaders marched through their country, 150 of them
meeting with martyrs' deaths. Directly the French army of the crusaders
had marched through Germany, and had advanced beyond its borders, the
Jews were able to leave their places of refuge in the castles, and
were not molested. Even those Jews who had weakly submitted to forced
baptism could now return to their ancient faith. A certain priest who
was as pious as he was humane, but whose name unfortunately has been
lost, gave them very great assistance. He led those Jews who had been
forcibly baptized into France and other countries, where they remained
till their former adhesion to the Church was forgotten. They then
returned to their homes and their religion.
On the whole, the fanaticism of the second crusade claimed fewer
Jewish victims than the first. This was partly owing to the protection
afforded to the Jews by the spiritual and temporal dignitaries, and
also because the participation of the German Emperor and the King
of France did not permit such crowds of crusading marauders as had
accompanied the expedition of William the Carpenter and Emicho of
Leiningen. But the Jews were compelled to pay a high price for the
shelter which was granted them, the price being their whole future. The
German Emperor from this time forward was regarded by the Jews as their
protector, and he considered himself as such, demanding in return the
fulfilment of certain duties. The German Jews, who had hitherto been as
free as the Germans or Romans, henceforth became the "servants of the
chamber" (servi cameræ) of the Holy Roman empire. This hateful name at
first only signified that the Jews enjoyed immunity from all attacks
like the imperial servants, and had to pay a certain tax to the emperor
for the protection thus granted to them, and that they had to perform
extraordinary services. But in later times the word was employed in
its original, odious sense, and the Jews were looked upon as bondmen
and dependent slaves. The German Jews who were on the point of raising
themselves from a state of barbarism, were thus hurled into the depths
of an abyss of degradation, from which they were enabled to raise
themselves only after a lapse of six hundred years. For this reason,
their intellectual efforts bore the stamp of degeneracy, their poems
consisted only of elegies and lamentations, which, like their speech,
were tasteless and barbaric, and even in the study of the Talmud very
little work of note was accomplished. The German Jews were pariahs in
history till the end of the eighteenth century. In France, on the other
hand, where other political and social conditions prevailed, Jewish
culture was vigorous enough to put forth blossoms.
Whilst the Jews of France and Germany still stood in dread of the
crusaders, a persecution broke out in the north of Africa, which was
of longer duration, and produced different results. It was stirred
up by a man who combined the characters of philosopher, reformer
and conqueror, and manifested a peculiar political and religious
enthusiasm. Abdallah Ibn-Tumart, who came from the northwest of
Africa, while living in Bagdad, was inspired by the moral enthusiasm
of the mystic philosopher Alghazali. On his return home to Africa, he
preached to the simple Moorish tribes simplicity of living and dress,
hatred of poetry, music and painting, and war against the Almoravide
kings, who were devoted to a life of refinement. On the other hand,
Ibn-Tumart rejected the Sunnite teachings of Mahometan orthodoxy, and
the literal interpretation of the verses of the Koran, which affirmed
that God had the feelings of man, and was affected by the same emotions
as man. He obtained a large following among the Moors, and founded
a sect, whose members, from the fact that they maintained the true
unity of God without any corporeal representations (Tauchid), were
termed Almovachides or Almohades (Unitarians). This sect acknowledged
Ibn-Tumart as the Mahdi, the heaven-sent Imam of Islam. With the tocsin
of rebellion and the sword of war against the reigning Almoravides,
Ibn-Tumart spread his religious and moral reformation in the northwest
of Africa. After his death, his disciple Abdulmumen succeeded to the
leadership of the Almohades, and was recognized as the Prince of the
Faithful (Emir al-Mumenin). He achieved victory after victory, and in
his onward progress he destroyed the dynasty of the Almoravides, and
became monarch of the whole of northern Africa. Abdulmumen, however,
was a fanatic, and as he had extirpated the Almoravides with fire and
sword, not only for political reasons, but also because they professed
another belief, he would not suffer any other religion in his kingdom.
When the capital, Morocco, after a long and obstinate siege, fell into
the hands of Abdulmumen, the new ruler summoned the numerous Jews
of the town, and addressed them in the following terms: "You do not
believe in the mission of the prophet Mahomet, and you think that the
Messiah, who has been announced to you, will confirm your law, and
strengthen your religion. Your forefathers, however, asserted that
the Messiah would appear at the latest about half a century after the
coming of Mahomet. Behold! that half a century has long passed, and
no prophet has arisen in your midst. The patience with which you
have been treated has come to an end. We can no longer permit you to
continue in your state of unbelief. We no longer desire any tribute
from you. You have only the choice between Islam and death." The
despair of the Jews at this stern proclamation was very great. It was
the second time, since they had come under Mahometan rule, that the
mournful alternative was offered to them, either to surrender their
life or their faith. Moved by the representations that were made to
him, Abdulmumen modified the edict by allowing the Jews to emigrate.
He also allowed them a certain time to dispose of such property as
they could not take with them. Those who preferred to remain in the
African kingdom were obliged to accept Islam under penalty of death.
Those, however, to whom Judaism was precious left Africa, and emigrated
to Spain, Italy and other places. The majority of them, however,
ostensibly yielded, and took the disguise of Islam whilst hoping for
more favorable times (1146).
The persecution was directed not only against the Jews of Morocco, but
against all who lived in northern Africa, and as often as the Almohades
captured a city, the same edict was promulgated. The Christians also
suffered through this persecution, but as Christian Spain stood open to
receive them, and they might expect to be received with open arms by
their co-religionists, they were more steadfast, and departed from the
country in large bodies. Synagogues and churches alike were destroyed
throughout the land of the Almohades, which extended by degrees from
the Atlas mountains to the boundary of Egypt, and no traces remained of
the former Jewish and Christian residents.
Although many north-African Jews had accepted Islam, there were but
few who became real converts. Nothing was demanded of them except to
profess belief in the prophetic mission of Mahomet, and occasionally
to attend the mosque. In private, however, they scrupulously practised
the Jewish rites, for the Almohades employed no police spies to observe
the actions of the converts. Not only the common people, but also pious
rabbis maintained this outward semblance of belief, soothing their
conscience with the reflection that idolatry and denial of Judaism
were not demanded of them, as they were simply required to utter the
formula that Mahomet was a prophet, which in no way suggested idolatry.
Some consoled themselves with the hope that this state would not long
continue, and that the Messiah would soon appear, and deliver them from
their misery.
Under the disguise of Moslems, the Maghreb Jewish scholars even pursued
the study of the Talmud with their usual zeal, and assembled at their
colleges the studious youth, who at the same time were compelled to
engage in the study of the Koran. But truly conscientious and pious
men were unable to play this double part for any length of time. They
threw off the hateful mask, and openly professing Judaism, suffered
martyrdom, as happened in Fez, Segelmessa, Draï and other towns.
The victorious Abdulmumen was not content with the possession of
all Barbary; he cast longing eyes upon the fair land of Andalusia,
thinking it an easy task to wrest it from the power of the Almoravide
and Christian rulers, and annex it to his realm. The conquest of
the Mahometan territory in southern Spain proved easy on account of
internal dissensions. Cordova, the capital of Andalusia, fell into the
power of the fanatical Almohades in June, 1148, and before the end of
a year the greater part of Andalusia was in their hands. The beautiful
synagogues which the piety, the love of splendor, and the refined
taste of the Andalusian Jews had built, fell a prey to the destructive
frenzy of fanaticism. The aged rabbi of Cordova, the philosopher
Joseph Ibn-Zadik, witnessed this sad downfall of the oldest and most
distinguished congregation, but died soon after (at the end of 1148 or
the commencement of 1149). The renowned Jewish academies at Seville and
Lucena were closed. Meïr, the son and successor of Joseph Ibn-Migash,
went from Lucena to Toledo, and with him all those able to escape.
The remainder followed the example of the African Jews, yielding for
the moment to coercion and pretending to acknowledge Islam, though
in private they observed their ancient faith, till they found an
opportunity of openly professing Judaism. Women and children, together
with the property of the exiles, fell into the hands of the conquerors,
who treated feeble captives as slaves.
In this dark epoch, when the center of Judaism was destroyed, a
favorable change of fortune created a new center. Christian Spain,
which had developed great power under the emperor Alfonso Raimundez
(1126-1157), became a refuge for the persecuted Andalusian Jews, and
Toledo, which had been made the capital of the realm, became a new
focus, whence the rays of Jewish science emanated. This favorable
change was due to the work of a man who deserves to be ranked with
Ibn-Shaprut and Ibn-Nagrela. The wise and philanthropic Emperor Alfonso
Raimundez had a Jewish favorite in the person of the still youthful
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra, the son of that Joseph Ibn-Ezra, who, together with
his three brothers, is celebrated in Judæo-Spanish literature. On
taking possession of the border fortress of Calatrava, between Toledo
and Cordova (1146), the emperor, probably as a reward for his bravery,
appointed Ibn-Ezra commander of the place, and invested him with the
dignity of a prince (Nasi).
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra was the guardian-angel of his unfortunate
co-religionists, who were fleeing before the fury of the victorious
Almohades. He assisted them to find homes and employment in Christian
Spain, and used his riches in ransoming captives, in clothing the
naked and feeding the hungry. The congregation of Toledo was very much
increased by the immigrant Jews. Meïr Ibn-Migash opened an academy
for the study of the Talmud, and numerous pupils attended it. Jewish
learning under the protection of the Christian king, now flourished in
Toledo after its expulsion from the Mahometan kingdom.
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra rose still higher in the favor of the Spanish emperor,
and was appointed steward of the imperial palace (about 1149). This
Jewish prince, in his zeal for Rabbanism, hurried into a persecution
which forms a blot on his fair fame. The Karaites who had settled in
Christian Spain, and who towards the end of the eleventh century had
suffered persecution at the hands of a Rabbanite, Joseph Al-Kabri,
had since that time again become a numerous body, and strove to
regain their ancient splendor. They brought the large literature of
their Eastern and Egyptian leaders into Castile, and were thereby
strengthened in their deep antipathy to Rabbinical Judaism. At this
time a Karaite of Constantinople, Jehuda ben Elia Hadassi, who styled
himself "a mourner for Zion" (ha-Abel), renewed the battle against the
Rabbanites, and wrote a comprehensive book under the name of "Eshkol
ha-Kofer," in which he discussed with great warmth the oft-disputed
differences between the two Jewish schools (1149), and rekindled the
flame of hostility. Jehuda Hadassi wrote with intense passion, but
employed harsh language, alphabetical acrostics, and a wretched,
monotonous rhyme. This hostile work was probably introduced into
Castile, and re-opened the conflict. Instead of having this polemical
book confuted by some able Rabbanite, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra called in the aid
of the secular arm, and besought the permission of the emperor Alfonso
to persecute the Karaites. He did not consider that the dormant fire of
persecution, if once rekindled, would sooner or later blaze around the
head of the persecutors. With the emperor's permission, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra
humbled the Karaites so sorely that they were never again able to raise
their heads. Their fate is not known, but they were probably banished
from the towns wherein Rabbanites dwelt (1150-1157). The favorable
condition of the Jews in Castile did not last long. After the death of
the emperor and of his eldest son, the King of Castile (1158), Jehuda
Ibn-Ezra lived to see troublous times. During the minority of the
Infante Alfonso a bitter civil war broke out between the noble houses
of De Castro and De Lara, in which the other Christian kings took
part; the fair land was devastated, and the capital, Toledo, became
the scene of bloody fights. The Christian monarchs were not powerful
enough to defend their borders against the continual irruptions of
the Almohades, and were obliged to leave this task to the fanatical
orders of knights, which were now again called into active service. The
Spanish Jews, unlike their German and French brethren, did not remain
mere indifferent spectators during these political struggles and wars,
but took the liveliest interest in all that was going on, joining one
or the other of the opposing sides.
Meanwhile Jewish learning was in nowise impaired by the unfavorable
conditions which existed in almost every land of the exile, but still
took its place in the vanguard of culture. Two men, both from Toledo,
added to its luster; these were Abraham Ibn-Daud and Abraham Ibn-Ezra,
who, dissimilar in character, aims, and in their life's history, were
yet alike in their love for Judaism and for learning. Abraham Ibn-Daud
Halevi (born about 1110, died a martyr 1180), who was a descendant
on the maternal side of Prince Isaac Ibn-Albalia, was not only well
versed in the Talmud, but was also conversant with all the branches of
learning then cultivated. He also engaged in the study of history, both
Jewish and general, as far as in its neglected state during the Middle
Ages it was accessible to him. This branch of learning was but lightly
esteemed by the Spanish Jews. He was a physician, and was a diligent
explorer of the realm of science. Ibn-Daud possessed an intelligent,
clear mind, which enabled him to penetrate with precision into the
knowable, and to illumine the obscure. With brilliant perspicuity
he gave expression to the most difficult ideas, and made them
comprehensible. He centered all his attention upon the highest problems
of the human intellect, and was at a loss to conceive how any one could
spend his life in trifling pursuits or in the study of philology,
mathematics, theoretical medicine, or law, instead of directing his
mind to the holiest task of life. This task, according to the view of
Ibn-Daud, consists in philosophical study, because its object is the
knowledge of God, and herein lies man's superiority over the world of
created things. He emphasized this point strongly in opposition to
a certain class of his co-religionists in Spain who had a positive
dislike for philosophy. Ibn-Daud was well acquainted with the reason
for their mistrust of independent research. "There are many in our
time," he remarked, "who have dabbled a little in science, and who are
not able to hold both lights, the light of belief in their right hand
and the light of knowledge in their left. Since in such men the light
of investigation has extinguished the light of belief, the multitude
think it dangerous, and shrink from it. In Judaism, however, knowledge
is a duty, and it is wrong to reject it."
The aim of all philosophical theory is the practical realization of
moral ideals. Such ideals Judaism presents. None of his predecessors
had so definitely and clearly expressed this important thought.
Morality produces positive virtues, a healthy family life, and based
upon this, a sound constitution of the state. According to this
view, all the religious duties of Judaism may be divided into five
classes. The first class inculcates the true knowledge and the love
of the One God and a purified belief in Him. The second class treats
especially of justice and conscientiousness, the chief of all virtues,
of forgiveness, kindness, and the love of enemies, all of which have
their origin in humility. The third class of precepts treats of the
relation of the head of the family to his wife, children, and servants,
according to the principles of right and affection. The fourth
division, which comprises a large group, prescribes the relation of
the citizen to the state and to his fellow-citizens; it inculcates the
necessity of loving one's neighbor, of honesty in commerce, and care
for the weak and suffering. There is, finally, a fifth class of laws,
such as the sacrificial and dietary laws (laws of the ritual), whose
purpose is not easily comprehended. These five groups of duties are
not equal in importance, faith taking the highest position and the
ceremonial laws the lowest, and therefore the prophets also often gave
greater prominence to the former. Starting from different premises,
Ibn-Daud arrived at a conclusion differing from that of Jehuda Halevi.
According to the latter, the pure ritual ordinances constitute the
essence of Judaism, whereby the prophetic nature of man is to be kept
alive, but for Ibn-Daud they are only of second-rate importance.
Abraham Ibn-Daud was, however, not only a religious philosopher,
but also a conscientious historian, and his historical labors have
proved of greater service to Jewish literature than his philosophical
studies. The newly-aroused conflict with the Karaites of Spain led
him to inquire into their history. After the death of the emperor
Alfonso, and the subsequent downfall of his favorite, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra,
these people again raised their heads, and re-commenced issuing their
polemical writings. Thereupon Ibn-Daud undertook to prove historically
that rabbinical Judaism was based on an unbroken chain of traditions
which began with Moses, and extended to Joseph Ibn-Migash. To this
end he compiled the history of Biblical, post-exilic, Talmudical,
Saburaic, Gaonic, and rabbinical times in a chronological order
(1161). He entitled this work, which was written in Hebrew, "The Order
of Tradition" (Seder ha-Kabbalah). The information which he imparts
concerning the Spanish congregations is of the greatest value; he
obtained his knowledge from the original labors of Samuel Ibn-Nagrela,
and from independent historical researches. His account is brief, but
accurate and authentic, and much may be read between the lines. His
Hebrew style is flowing, and not altogether wanting in poetic coloring.
A still more erudite, comprehensive, and profound mind was that of
Abraham ben Meïr Ibn-Ezra of Toledo (born about 1088, died 1167).
He was a man of remarkable ability, conquering with equal skill
the greatest and the smallest things in science; he was energetic,
ingenious, full of wit, but lacking in warmth of feeling. His extensive
reading in all branches of divine and human knowledge was astonishing;
he was also thoroughly acquainted with the literature of the Karaites.
His, however, was not a symmetrically developed, strong personality,
but was full of contradictions, and given to frivolity; at one time
he fought against the Karaites, at another, he made great concessions
to them. His polemical method was merciless, and he aimed less at
discovering the truth than at dealing a sharp blow to an antagonist.
His was a spirit of negation, and he forms the completest contrast
to Jehuda Halevi, to whom he is said to have been closely related.
Ibn-Ezra (as he is called) combined in his person irreconcilable
contrasts. His clear vision, his sharp, analytical perception, his
bold research, which was so far advanced as almost to bring him to
Pantheism, existed side by side with a veneration for authority, which
led him, with fanatical ardor, to accuse independent thinkers of
heresy. His temperate mind, which examined into the origin of every
phenomenon, did not prevent him from wandering in the twilight of
mysticism. Though filled with trust in God, into whose hands he quietly
resigned his lot, he believed in the influence of the stars, from which
no man could possibly withdraw. Thus Ibn-Ezra was at once an inexorable
critic and a slave of the letter of the Law, a rationalist and a
mystic, a deeply religious man, and an astrologer. These contradictions
did not mark successive stages in his life, but they controlled the
whole course of his existence. In his youth he toyed with the muses,
sang the praises of distinguished persons, and feasted with Moses
Ibn-Ezra. He was likewise acquainted with Jehuda Halevi; they often
conversed brilliantly upon philosophical problems, and it is clear that
they did not agree in their methods of thought.
Although Ibn-Ezra was acquainted with the artistic forms of Arabic
and neo-Hebraic poetry, he was, nevertheless, no poet. His verses
are artificial, pedantic, uninteresting, and devoid of feeling. His
liturgical poetry, produced at all periods of his life, bears the
same impress of sober contemplation. It consists of wise maxims or
censorious admonitions; there is no outpouring of religious feelings
which absorb the soul, and which characterize fervent prayer. In the
religious poetry of Ibn-Ezra there is lacking what is so manifest
in the compositions of Ibn-Gebirol and Jehuda Halevi; the spirit
of sublime joyousness which expresses itself in inspired hymns, the
exalted majesty which aspires to the highest, and attains it. He was,
however, inimitable in wit and pointed epigrams, in riddles and satire.
His prose is, moreover, exemplary, and it may even be said that he
created it. He abstains from over-embellishment and empty phraseology.
Though Ibn-Ezra holds no high place in poetry, he is entitled to the
first rank as a thorough expositor of the Holy Scriptures. As such, he
displayed great tact, since he was guided by the strictly grammatical
construing of the text. He was a born exegetist. He was able to bring
to bear his wide knowledge and brilliant ideas upon the verses of Holy
Writ without being compelled to connect them logically. His restless,
inconstant mind was not capable of creating a complete and systematic
whole. He had not the power of methodizing Hebrew philology, and of
synoptically arranging his material. In Biblical exegesis, however,
he was thoroughly original. He raised it to the degree of a science,
with fixed principles, so that he was for a long time without a rival
in this department of learning. It is worthy of remark, that he never
felt called upon to cultivate the field of Biblical interpretation
whilst at home, although he possessed most remarkable talent for this
work. As long as he remained in Spain he was only known as a clever
mathematician and astronomer, not as an exegete. In general, he
produced nothing of a literary character in his native land, except
perhaps some Hebrew poems of a religious or satirical character.
Ibn-Ezra was induced by straitened circumstances to leave the
war-stricken and impoverished city of Toledo. He was never possessed
of much wealth. In his epigrammatic way, he made merry over his
misfortunes, which condemned him to poverty: "I strive to become
wealthy, but the stars are opposed to me. If I were to engage in
shroud-making, men would cease dying; or if I made candles, the sun
would never set unto the hour of my death."
As he was unable to earn his livelihood at home, he started on his
travels (about 1138-1139) accompanied by his adult son Isaac. He
visited Africa, Egypt, and Palestine, and communed with the learned
men of Tiberias, who prided themselves on the possession of carefully
written copies of the Torah. As he could find no rest anywhere, he
journeyed further, towards Babylonia, visiting the city of Bagdad,
where a Prince of the Captivity, with the consent of the Caliph, again
exercised a sort of supremacy over all Eastern congregations. During
the course of this extensive journey, Ibn-Ezra made many careful
observations, and enriched the vast stores of his mind.
It is difficult to understand why, on his turning homewards from the
East, he did not again visit his native land. In Rome, he at length
found the long-desired rest (1140). His appearance in Italy marks an
epoch in the development of culture among the Italian Jews. Although
they enjoyed freedom to such a degree that the Roman community was
not bound to pay any taxes, the Jews of Italy still remained in a low
condition of culture. They studied the Talmud in a mechanical, lifeless
manner. They had no knowledge of Biblical exegesis, and neo-Hebraic
poetry for them consisted of wretched rhymes. Their model of poetry was
the clumsy verse of Eleazar Kalir, which they considered inimitable.
Their sluggish minds were prone to all the superstition of the Middle
Ages. What a contrast to them did the Spanish traveler present, with
his refined taste for art, his healthy ideas, and his philosophical
education! The time of his arrival in Rome was favorable to the revival
of the higher culture. Just at this time there arose a bold priest,
Arnold of Brescia, who asserted that the popes did not rule according
to the spirit of the Gospel: that they ought not to hold temporal
sovereignty, but should live as true servants of the Church, and act
with proper humility.
An earnest spirit of inquiry and a striving after freedom arose in
the home of the papacy. The people listened eagerly to the inspired
words of the young reformer, threw off their allegiance to the papacy,
and declared their state a republic (1139-1143). Just at this time,
Ibn-Ezra lived at Rome. It is most probable that youths and men
gathered in large numbers in order to hear the great traveler, the
deeply learned Spanish scholar, who knew well how to enchant them by
his terse, lively, striking, and witty conversation.
In Rome the first production of Ibn-Ezra, who had now reached his
fiftieth year, appeared, an exposition of the Five Megilloth. His
exegetical principles were made evident in his earliest efforts.
Everything that was obscure disappeared before his clear vision, unless
he purposely shut his eyes so that he might not see what was right, or
else pretended not to see at all. Was it the doubt that was agitating
his mind, or was it his weakness of character which made him shrink
from rudely dispelling the dreams of the multitude? It cannot be
gainsaid that Ibn-Ezra often denies the truth, or conceals it in such a
manner that it is recognizable only by men of equal intellect.
Great as were Ibn-Ezra's exegetical talents, they did not enable him
to comprehend and thoroughly to analyze doubtful Biblical passages so
as to bring them into some sort of connection as an organic whole, or
as a beautifully constructed work of art. His mind was more directed
to individual, detached questions, his restless thought was never
concentrated on one thing, but always had a tendency to digress to
other subjects only slightly connected with the original matter.
Ibn-Ezra was the first to convey to the Roman Jews a conception of the
importance of Hebrew grammar, of which they were completely ignorant.
He translated the grammatical works of Chayuj, from Arabic into Hebrew,
and wrote a work under the title of "The Balance" (Moznaim), the only
interesting part of which is the well-written historical introduction
reviewing the labors of his predecessors in the sphere of Hebrew
philology.
In the summer of 1145 he was at Mantua, and here he composed a new
grammatical work upon the niceties of the Hebrew style (Zachot). In
this book he charged those with heresy who deviated from the Massoretic
authorities. This conduct appears the more incongruous, since he
himself, though secretly, took still greater liberties with the text of
the Bible. He remarks of the grammatical works of Ibn-Janach, that they
ought to be thrown into the fire, because the author suggests that more
than a hundred words in the Bible ought to be read or understood in
another than the accepted manner. His condemnatory judgment was of such
effect that the important productions of Ibn-Janach remained unknown to
the following generations, and inquirers were compelled to quench their
thirst at broken cisterns.
He does not appear to have stayed long in Mantua, but to have betaken
himself thence to Lucca, where he dwelt for several years, and gathered
a circle of disciples about him. Here he occupied himself very much
with the study of astronomy, drew up astronomical tables, and paid
great attention also to the pseudo-science of astrology, which was
diligently studied by Mahometans and Christians. He wrote many books
under different titles on this subject (1148).
After recovering from a severe illness, he determined to write a
commentary on the Pentateuch, a self-appointed task from which
he shrank on account of its great difficulty. He was now in the
sixty-fourth year of his age (1152-1153). But there are no signs of
old age to be found in the work, which bears the stamp of freshness
and youthful vigor. The exposition of the Pentateuch by Ibn-Ezra is an
artistic piece of work, both in contents and in form. The language is
vigorous, flowing and witty, the interpretation profound, temperate,
and bearing the impress of devoted work. His rich store of knowledge,
his extensive reading and experience enabled him to make the Book of
books more intelligible, and to scatter the misty clouds in which
ignorance and prejudice had enshrouded it.
In his introduction he describes in a very striking and clever manner
the four customary and unsuitable methods of interpretation which he
desires to avoid. Confident of success, he puts himself above his
predecessors, and completes the task which he had set himself, to fix
the natural meaning of the text. Ibn-Ezra, by means of his commentary
to the Pentateuch, became the leader of the school of temperate,
careful, and scientific expositors of the Bible, and held the first
place among the few enlightened minds opposed to the obscurity of
Agadic explanation, of which Rashi was the leading exponent. For
although he denounced as heretical every interpretation that differed
from the Massora, yet rationalists considered him their leading
authority, and even unbelief looked to him for support. In fact,
Ibn-Ezra gives us abundant reason for reckoning him among such men as
Chivi Albalchi, Yitzchaki, and others, who called the authority of the
Pentateuch into question. In a vague and mysterious way, he suggested
that several verses in the Torah had been added by a later hand, and
that whole passages belonged to a later period. It is difficult to know
whether he was in earnest in his scepticism or in his firm belief. In
Lucca, Ibn-Ezra wrote his brilliant commentary on Isaiah (1154-1155),
and other less important works. After the completion of his commentary
on the Pentateuch (1155), Ibn-Ezra left Italy, and went to the south of
France, which, on account of its connection with Catalonia, possessed
more of the Spanish-Jewish culture than the north of France, Italy, or
Germany. In Jewish history Provence forms the dividing line between
two methods, the strictly Talmudical, and the scientific and artistic.
The Jewish Provençals worked actively according to both methods, but
did not attain any degree of excellence in either, merely remaining
admirers and imitators. Ibn-Ezra introduced a new element into this
circle. In the town of Rhodez he lived several years (1155-1157), and
wrote his commentaries to the book of Daniel, the Psalms, and the
Twelve Prophets. His fame became wide-spread, and attracted admirers.
The greatest rabbinical authority of the time, Jacob Tam, sent him a
poem of homage. Ibn-Ezra was very much surprised, and replied with an
epigram, half complimentary, half insulting. His love of travel led
him, now in his seventieth year, to foggy London, where he found a
liberal Mæcenas, who treated him with affection. Here he composed a
kind of philosophy of religion, written, however, with such extreme
carelessness and haste, that it is absolutely impossible to follow his
train of thought. On the whole, Ibn-Ezra accomplished as little in this
branch of learning as in general philosophy.
After this work on the philosophy of religion, while still in London,
he wrote a defense of the Sabbath, which is interesting on account of
its introduction. He begins by telling a dream which he had had, and
in which the Sabbath in person handed him a letter. Herein the Sabbath
complains that a disciple of Ibn-Ezra had brought writings into his
house in which the Biblical day was said to begin in the morning, and
that consequently the evening before the Sabbath possessed no sanctity.
The apparition thereupon commanded him to take up the defense of the
Sabbath. He awoke from his dream, and by the light of the moon read the
impious writings which had been brought to him, and, in truth, found
therein an assertion that the Biblical day began in the morning and not
in the evening. This unorthodox doctrine, which, it may be remarked,
was propounded by the grandson of Rashi, the pious Samuel ben Meïr,
aroused Ibn-Ezra; and he felt himself in duty bound to controvert it
with all his might, "lest Israel be led into error." In pious wrath
he writes, "May the hand of him who wrote this wither, and may his
eyes be darkened." The defense, which consists of the interpretation
of Biblical verses and of astronomical explanations, bears the name
of "The Sabbath Epistle." Although he was in prosperous circumstances
whilst in London, and had many pupils, he left that city after a short
stay. In the autumn of 1160 he visited Narbonne, and later on (1165
or 1166) he was again at Rhodez, where in his old age he revised his
commentary to the Pentateuch, and abridged it, retaining the most
essential portions, and finally composed his last book, a grammatical
work (Safah Berurah). His vigor and freshness of intellect, which
he retained even to the end of his life, are wonderful; his last
productions, like his first, bear the imprint of vivacity, confidence,
and youthful power. Besides his exegetical, grammatical, astronomical,
and astrological writings, he was also the author of several works
on mathematics. It appears that in his closing years Ibn-Ezra longed
to return to his native land, and began his homeward journey. When,
however, he reached Calahorra, on the borders of Navarre and Aragon, he
died, and it is said that on his death-bed he wittily applied a Bible
verse to himself: "Abraham was 78 years old when he escaped from the
curse of this world." He died on Monday, 1st Adar (22d January), 1167.
He left many pupils and a talented son, who, however, did not add glory
to his name.
The Jewish community in France at this time also possessed a highly
gifted man, who not only concentrated within himself the chief
characteristics of the French school, and thus became an authority
for several centuries, but who also partook of the spirit of the
Jewish-Spanish school. Jacob Tam of Rameru (born about 1100, died 1171)
was the most distinguished disciple of the school of Rashi. Being the
youngest of the three learned grandchildren of the great teacher of
Troyes, Tam could not have acquired anything from his grandfather,
whom he knew only in the early years of his childhood. However, he
attained so high a degree of excellence in the study of the Talmud that
he outshone his contemporaries, and even his elder brothers, Isaac and
Samuel (Rashbam). The interminable paths and the winding roads of the
Talmudical labyrinth were familiar to him, and he had a rare knowledge
of the whole region. He united clearness of intellect with acuteness in
reasoning, and was the chief founder of the school of the Tossafists.
None of his predecessors had revealed such profound knowledge and so
marvelous a dialectical ingenuity in the sphere of the Talmud. Although
not in office, and engaged in business, he was esteemed the most famous
rabbi of his time, and his renown traveled as far as Spain and Italy.
Questions upon difficult points were sent to him exclusively, not only
from his own land, but also from southern France and Germany; and all
the rabbinical authorities of the period bowed to him with the deepest
reverence. In his youth he was surrounded by pupils who regarded him
with veneration as their ideal. He was so overwhelmed with the task
of answering questions sent to him that he sometimes succumbed. The
fanatics of the second crusade, who almost deprived him of life, robbed
him of all his possessions, and left him nothing more than his life and
his library. Nevertheless, he composed his commentary to the Talmud
just at this troubled period. He was a man of thoroughly firm religious
and moral character, in which there was only one blemish: he took usury
from Christians. Indeed, he, to a certain extent, disregarded the
rigid Talmudic laws on usury, in contravention of the practice of his
grandfather.
Jacob Tam is almost the only member of the school of northern France
who overcame the partiality for Talmudical study, and displayed
great taste for the diversified studies of the Spanish Jews. He
studied their art of Hebrew versification, and wrote liturgical
prayers and secular poems in a metrical form. He corresponded with
Ibn-Ezra, the representative of Jewish-Spanish culture, and, as
related above, exchanged poems with him. Poetry led Tam, who did
nothing superficially, to a thorough course of inquiry into the Hebrew
language, and he became so far advanced in the knowledge of grammar
that he was able to act as arbiter in the grammatical controversy
between Menachem ben Saruk and his opponent Dunash.
The large numbers of learned rabbis in northern France and in Germany,
and the universally acknowledged authority of Tam, brought about a
new departure, which for the first time made its appearance in the
post-Talmudical period. Under the presidency of the Rabbi of Rameru,
the first rabbinical synod assembled for the purpose of deciding
important questions of the day. Probably the councils which had
been convened in France by the fugitive popes, Pascal, Innocent II,
Calixtus, and Alexander III, gave this suggestion to the rabbis. The
rabbinical synods were not attended with that pomp which transformed
such councils into theaters in which vanity and ambition are fostered.
Those who took part in the proceedings met at some appointed place
frequented by Jews, such as Troyes and Rheims, without any splendor
or ceremony, and without ulterior motives or political intrigue. The
decisions of the rabbinical synods included not only religious and
communal matters, but also questions of civil laws, as the Jews still
possessed their own jurisdiction.
It is most probable that it was at one of these synods of the rabbis,
in whose minds the persecution of the second crusade was still fresh,
that it was decreed that no Jew should purchase a crucifix, church
appurtenances, vestments of the mass, church ornaments or missals,
because such an act might involve the whole community of Jews in
great danger. At a great synod, in which took part one hundred and
fifty rabbis from Troyes, Auxerre, Rheims, Paris, Sens, Drome, Lyons,
Carpentras, from Normandy, Aquitania, Anjou, Poitou, and Lorraine,
headed by the brothers Samuel and Tam, and by Menachem ben Perez of
Joigny, Eleazer ben Nathan of Mayence, and Eleazer ben Samson of
Cologne, the following resolutions were passed: (1) That no Jew should
summon one of his co-religionists before the courts of the country
unless both parties agreed to it, or unless the accused refused to
appear before a Jewish court of law. (2) Any damages which might accrue
to the defendant through this _ex parte_ litigation at a non-Jewish
court of law should be paid by the complainant, according to the
assessment of seven elders of the congregation. (3) That no person
should apply to the secular authorities for the office of president or
provost, or obtain the office by stealth, but that the president shall
be elected in an open manner by the majority of the members of the
congregation. A ban of excommunication was pronounced against all who
transgressed these and other decisions of the synod; no Jew should hold
intercourse with such transgressors, nor partake of their food, nor use
their books or utensils, and not even accept alms from them. The edict
of excommunication against informers and traitors was also revived at
this synod.
At a synod held in Troyes, over which Tam presided, all those were
threatened with excommunication who dared find fault with any bill
of divorce after it had been delivered to the wife. Hyper-critical
or wicked men often criticised a bill of divorce after it had been
granted, causing the divorced parties much annoyance. Other decisions
were made by the synods, and these possessed the force of law among
the French and German Jews. Thus it was decided that the ordinance
of Gershom for the prevention of polygamy could only be abrogated by
a hundred rabbis from three different provinces, such as Francia,
Normandy, and Anjou, and only for the most weighty motives. The rabbis
did not, like the Catholic prelates, use this power of the synod
against the people, but in accordance with the feeling of the nation
and for the welfare of the community. Hence their decisions once made
did not require frequent renewal.
In his old age, Tam witnessed a bloody persecution of the Jews in
his vicinity, in Blois, which is memorable not only on account of
the severity with which the martyrs were treated, but especially for
the lying accusation, then for the first time brought against them,
that they used the blood of Christians at the Passover. It was a base
intrigue which kindled the fire at the stake for the innocent.
A Jew of Blois was riding at dusk towards the Loire in order to water
his horse. He there met a Christian groom, whose horse shied at a white
fleece which the Jew wore beneath his cloak, and growing restive,
refused to go to the water. The servant, who was well aware of the
Jew-hating character of his master, the mayor of the town, concocted
a story which served as ground for an accusation. He asserted that he
had seen the Jewish horseman throw a murdered Christian child into the
water. The mayor bore a grudge against an influential Jewish woman
named Pulcelina, who was a favorite of his lord, Count Theobald, of
Chartres, and took this opportunity of revenging himself. He repeated
the lie about the murder of a Christian child, and the charge read:
"The Jews crucified it for the Passover, and then threw it into the
Loire." Count Theobald thereupon commanded that all the Jews should
be put into chains, and thrown into prison. Pulcelina alone, for whom
Theobald entertained a particular affection, remained unharmed. Relying
upon this, she quieted the fears of her suffering co-religionists with
the assurance that she would prevail on the Count to release them. But
soon the imprisoned Jews learned that there was no hope of human aid.
Pulcelina, on account of the affection shown for her, had incurred
the bitter enmity of Isabelle, the wife of the Count, and she planned
the destruction of the Jews. She had a watch set over Pulcelina, and
prevented her from meeting the Count. The Jews had but one glimmer of
hope: an appeal to the notorious avarice of the Count. He had sent
a Jew of Chartres to ask what sum they were willing to pay in order
to be acquitted of this charge of murder. Thereupon they consulted
with friendly Christians, and it was arranged that one hundred pounds
of ready money, and one hundred and eighty pounds of outstanding
debts--probably the whole wealth of the small community--would
be sufficient. At this point, however, a priest took part in the
proceedings, and addressing the Count with warmth, besought him not
to treat the matter lightly, but to punish the Jews severely in case
the accusation against them was well founded. But how could any one
ascertain the truth, seeing that the whole charge rested merely upon
the statement of the groom, who could be said to have seen no more
than a body thrown into the river? In the Middle Ages such doubts were
readily solved. The water test was applied. The servant was conveyed
to the river in a boat filled with water, and as he did not sink, the
Count and the whole of the Christian population were firmly convinced
that his statements were really true. Count Theobald issued an order
condemning the entire Jewish congregation at Blois to death by fire.
When they were brought out to a wooden tower, and the fagots around
them were about to be kindled, the priest begged them to acknowledge
Christianity, and thus preserve their lives. They nevertheless remained
steadfast to their faith, and were first tortured, and then dragged to
the stake. Thirty-four men and seventeen women died amid the flames
whilst chanting the prayer which contains the confession of faith in
One God (Wednesday, 20 Sivan--26 May, 1171), Pulcelina dying with
them. A few Jews only, through fear of death, accepted Christianity.
The Christians, relying on the water test, were firmly convinced that
the Jews had rightly deserved death at the stake, and the chronicle
narrates in terse fashion: "Theobald, Count of Chartres, caused several
Jews of Blois to be burnt, because they had crucified a Christian child
at the celebration of their Passover, and had thrown its body into the
Loire."
When the news of the martyrdom of the Jews reached Tam, he decreed that
the day should be observed as a strict fast and a day of mourning.
The congregations of France, Anjou, and the Rhine country, to whom
the great teacher sent letters of request, willingly obeyed his
decrees. This fast day, in memory of the martyrs of Blois, at the same
time commemorates the beginning of the utterly false and groundless
fabrication that the Jews use blood on their Passover, which in the
course of half a century was the cause of the death of hecatombs of
victims. This decree was the last public act of Tam, for a few days
afterwards he died (Wednesday, 4th Tamuz--9th June). One of his pupils,
Chayim Cohen, remarked that if he had been at the burial, he would have
assisted in the final disposition of the body in spite of the law that
a descendant of Aaron may not touch a corpse, because for so holy a man
the sanctity of a priest may be laid aside. Rabbi Tam concludes the
series of creative minds of the French school, just as Ibn-Ezra marks
the end of the original element in the Spanish school. There now arose
a personage who completely reconciled both schools, and with whom a
clearly marked transformation in Jewish history commenced.