_Development of Nuremberg_
"Nürnberg's Hand
Geht durch alle Land."
--_Old Proverb._
Karl IV. proceeded to confirm the privileges of the town for a cash
consideration. That was the way of mediæval monarchs. We have seen that
the finances of Nuremberg were not at this moment in a very flourishing
condition. There is little doubt that the heavy payment she was called
upon to make to the King was one of the chief causes which led to the
great persecution of the Jews which soon broke out.
The Jews are first mentioned in Nuremberg in 1288. They were then
personally free. They could hold land and live after their own laws.
Medicine was their chief profession; for money-lending--at first without
interest--was originally the business of the monasteries. It was one of
the most unfortunate results of the Crusades that they stirred up
feeling against the Jews. Persecutions began, and a change took place in
the personal position of the Jews. They had now to wear a special dress
and to cut their beards, whilst the Christians luxuriated in beards as
long as they could possibly grow them. When the Christians were no
longer allowed to take interest for money lent, the Jews stepped in,
being under their own laws, as money-lenders. In many places they were
forbidden to follow any other profession than that of usury. By a
charter of the Hohenstaufen another important change was wrought in
their condition. They were made directly subject to the King and Empire
(Königliche Kammerknechte). For this protection they had to pay a tax
direct to the Imperial treasury. Their riches grew in spite of all sorts
of commercial disabilities, and with them grew the value of this tax.
One good result of this was that it interested the King in their favour.
He did not care to see his golden geese slain, and their property
confiscated by the towns. In Nuremberg it was possible for the Jews to
become citizens on the payment of a certain sum of money. In 1338, it
appears from an old Burgher list, there were 212 Jewish citizens. Ten
years later, when the Black Death was devastating Europe, it was said
that the Jews had poisoned the wells and purposely propagated the plague
in order to annihilate the Christians. They were accused of all sorts of
sacrilege and unnatural crimes. A frightful persecution broke out. All
along the Rhine thousands of them were burnt at the stake.
The Austrian poet Helbing echoed the public sentiment, during a later
persecution, when he exclaimed, "There are too many Jews in our country.
It is a shame and a sin to tolerate them. If I were King, if I could lay
my hand on you, Jews, I tell you in truth I would have you all burnt."
And this is the opinion of the humanist, Conrad Celtes, in his praise of
Nuremberg:--
"Exscindenda protecto gens aut ad Caucasum et ultra Sauromatas
perpetuo exilio releganda, quæ, per universum orbem in se totiens
iram numinum concitat, humani generis societatem violans et
conturbans."
At Nuremberg there were other reasons for the outbreak. In old days the
Jews had been told to build their houses in the modern Dötschmannsplatz.
Their synagogue stood on the site of the present Frauenkirche. Hence
the space between the Rathaus and the Fleischbrücke was all the
market-room the Christians had. The increasing numbers and prosperity of
the Jews, in this, the best site of the town, was very distressing to
observe. So it came to pass that in 1349, on the strength of a document
signed by Karl, in which he undertakes to ask no questions if anything
should happen to the Jews at the hands of the people or the Council, the
Christians pulled down the Jewish houses, and made the two large
market-places, called to-day the Hauptmarkt and the Obstmarkt. Between
these they built, to the glory of God, the beautiful Frauenkirche. As
for the Jews, "_The Jews were burnt on St. Nicholas' Eve_, 1349," is the
laconic report of Ulman Stromer, chronicler.[8] The modern Maxfeld is
supposed to have been the scene of this atrocity. Such is the origin of
those picturesque market-places, where to-day beneath the shadow of St.
Sebald's shrine, St. Mary's church and the stately Rathaus, the
Beautiful Fountain pours its silvery waters, and the peasants sell the
produce of the country, sitting at their stalls beneath huge umbrellas,
or leading the patient oxen which have drawn their carts to the city.
We have mentioned above the grievances of the artisans at this period.
It must not be supposed that they were altogether down-trodden and
miserable. Pecuniarily they must have been comparatively well off. For
from this time, up to the middle of the Thirty Years War, the Nuremberg
workmen flourished in reputation and execution. Their numbers were
large; their work was distinguished for its beauty and durability.
Their metal work in particular was famous; and they maintained its
excellence for a long while, fostered by the system of masters and
apprentices, which in this case led to a real desire to reach or improve
upon a high standard of sound and artistic work. Even to-day you can
hardly walk ten yards in Nuremberg without coming upon some perfect
piece of ironwork, such as the railings round the wells or in front of
the Frauenkirche. In the German Museum[9] there are two rooms full of
locks and hinges, which, if once seen and studied by the modern
manufacturer of inferior wares, should almost certainly make him cease
from his evil ways. Or, if the reader wish for an example of the wide
gulf which separates the good from the indifferent, let him secure a
genuine specimen of those old waterpots (_Butte_), in which women so
picturesquely carry water on their backs from the wells, and compare it
with a modern imitation. These old workmen took a pride in their work.
They were not, however, for that reason contemptuous of a little
relaxation. They had their general holidays. We know Victor Hugo's
description of All Fools' Day in _Notre Dame de Paris_. And here, in
Nuremberg, we find the butchers and cutlers asking and obtaining from
Karl the right to hold a carnival, and to dance in silks and velvets
like the great families. This right was afterwards extended to all the
trades. _Schembartläufer_ the carnival was called. Every year the dance
took place. By degrees the great people began to take part in it. The
good burghers were very fond of dancing, as we shall have further
occasion to notice. In time all sorts of rites and ceremonies grew up
round the celebration of this holiday, which not even the presence of
the enemy or the plague could induce the artisans to omit. Like
Don't-care Hippocleides, they _would_ dance. Masks were worn, spears
and crackers carried, and a special costume designed for each year.
Popular songs and pasquinades were sung and published. Personalities of
course were rife. In 1523, for instance, a man appeared dressed in
"Indulgences." Not a little rough buffoonery of one sort or another
found place. To conclude the proceedings, a so-called "Hell," made of
fireworks, was let off in front of the Rathaus. And so to bed, as Pepys
would have written.
The influence of the Reformers proved fatal to indulgence in this sort
of wild hilarity. The celebration of the carnival was finally forbidden
in 1539, much to the annoyance of the people.
In 1349 Karl issued from Nuremberg the declaration of public peace (he
was always an eager promoter of Landfrieden--public peaces) for
Franconia--to last for two years. In this arrangement Nuremberg was
accorded the same standing as other Imperial cities and received, under
Karl, equal political rights with the princely and other communities. A
board of representatives of each town or district was to sit
periodically at Nuremberg and see to it that the peace was kept. Whilst
the King tried to preserve order in this way, peace leagues were also
common in these times of feuds. So we find Nuremberg joining the league
of the Swabian towns.
It was at Nuremberg that Karl, when he returned from being crowned at
Rome (1356), held a famous Reichstag and issued the Golden Bull,
so-called from the golden seal, or _bulla_, appended to the deed, which
determined the method of electing the emperors and reduced the number of
electors to seven. The place where the first twenty-three articles of
this important law were published is still known as the house "_Zum
Goldenen Schild_," in the Schildgasse. The old custom by which the
newly chosen Kaiser held his first Reichstag at Nuremberg was made law
by the Golden Bull--a law in later times frequently ignored. By the
Golden Bull, also, towns were forbidden to league together, which was a
very burdensome provision secured by the influence of the princes, but,
luckily for the towns, not able to be enforced.
The Golden Bull, acknowledging, as it did, the power and increasing the
territorial rights of the great princes, and rousing the envy of those
who were not made electors, held in it the seeds of the dissolution of
the Empire. It encouraged, in effect, all the petty princes to exceed
their powers and to encroach on the rights of the towns. The Nuremberg
Burggraf was no exception to this rule. From this time forward he is
continually coming into conflict with the town. The quarrel began over
the _Geleitsrecht_, right of convoy and customs. The Emperor in 1357
gave to the Burggraf certain rights of way which enabled him to exact
toll from the merchants on their way to Frankfort. Now this was a direct
infringement of the charter given them a few years before forbidding all
unjust or unusual taxes. They appealed on the strength of this and the
Kaiser revoked the right. But the question crops up again and again. A
little later we find the Kaiser, in recognition of his indebtedness to
the Burggraf for past services, giving him the office of Chief
Magistrate of the town together with large revenues therefrom. The town,
anxious to have the magistracy under its own control, wished to buy it
from the Burggraf. The Kaiser, with a view to sharing the proceeds,
raised the price at which it was to be sold, so that in 1385 the town
had to redeem the magistracy and taxes for the exorbitant sum of 8000
gulden.
Karl, as far as one can make out, tried to hunt with the hounds and run
with the hare, first helping the town and then the Burggraf, partly
because he was indebted to both for their aid, and partly because the
issue of a new charter was a proceeding which brought cash into the
Imperial treasury. For directly or indirectly charters were always paid
for. This accounts to some extent for the mass of contradictory decrees
which survive to perplex the modern historian. Such a little compliment
as the following, for instance, which we find at the end of a charter
dated 1366, had doubtless its origin in a cash transaction:--
"The Emperor is accustomed to live and to hold his court in his
Imperial town of Nuremberg, as being the most distinguished and
best situated town of the Empire here in the land."
The relations between the Burggraf and the town continued to be so
strained that they almost came to blows in 1367 over the building of a
wall. This wall was run up in forty days by the citizens, completely
cutting off the approach from the castle to the town, and thus
protecting the town from all hostile attacks of the Burggraf. The
quarrel thereby occasioned dragged on for ten years before it was
settled by an Imperial decree. Much to the chagrin of the Burggraf, the
Kaiser, in deciding the dispute, unexpectedly favoured the town. We can
hardly be surprised that the Burggraf, still smarting from this
humiliation, was inclined to interpret as an act of aggression the
building by the citizens of the tower "Luginsland" (1377),[10] which,
besides commanding, as its name implied, a wide view of the surrounding
country, would serve also as a watch-tower whence the actions of the
Burggraf might be observed and forestalled. "Man pawet in darümb das man
darauf ins marggrafen purk möcht gesehen," says one chronicler.
Before all this, the future King Wenzel had been born in Nuremberg and
baptised in St. Sebalduskirche. The chronicles say that at the baptism
of the Imperial child--with whose birth Karl was so pleased that he
remitted the Imperial taxes of the town for a year--the font was not
clean, and that, as the baptismal water was being warmed in the
Parsonage, a fire broke out and the whole of the choir adjoining it was
burnt down. Only the beautiful (fourteenth century) oriel window
remained uninjured by the flames.[11] The present parsonage was built by
Pfinzing, the author of the _Theuerdank_, of whom more anon.
[Illustration: ORIEL WINDOW OF THE PARSONAGE]
On the day of the baptism it is recorded that the Emperor displayed to
the people from the gallery over the door of the church the Imperial
insignia and relics which he had brought from Prague to the new
Frauenkirche.
This Wenzel, or Wenceslas, of whom we have spoken, succeeded his father
when he was but seventeen. Half-idiot, half-maniac, addicted to
drunkenness and hunting, he was not the man to restore order in an
Empire which had already fallen into a state of chaos. He was one of the
worst Kaisers and the least victorious on record. He would attend to
nothing in the Reich, "the Prague white beer and girls of various
complexions being much preferable," as he was heard to say. The result
was that his reign was a period of feuds, the golden era of free or
robber knights. Club-law, or Faustrecht, as it was called--the right of
private warfare--was the order of the day. The history of Nuremberg
resolves itself into the police-news of the period, the record of the
sallies and outrages of such knights as Ekkelein von Gailingen, whose
headquarters were at Windsheim, some thirty miles off, and who was the
Götz von Berlichingen of the fourteenth century. The old castles which
the traveller sees from time to time on the banks of the Rhine, or on
the ravines and large brooks which flow into it, were then no
picturesque ruins, rendered interesting by the stories which were told
about their former inhabitants, but constituted the real and apparently
impregnable strongholds of this robber-chivalry.
On the east wall of the castle, near the Five-cornered Tower, they will
show you to this day two hoof-shaped marks, which are said to be the
impressions left there by the hoofs of Ekkelein (or Eppelein) von
Gailingen's gallant steed. For this freebooter, Ekkelein, who had long
been feared, admired, and even credited with magical powers, was at
length captured by the Nuremberg burgher-soldiers and condemned to
death. Shut up in the castle, he pined in the dungeon until the day
arrived on which he was to expiate his crimes with his life. When he
was brought out into the yard for execution, he begged, as a last
request, that he might be allowed to say farewell to his favourite horse
and his servant Jäckel. The beautiful charger, neighing with pleasure,
was brought. Ekkelein put his arm round its neck and embraced it
lovingly.
"If only, before I die, I might once more feel myself on his back!"
So natural and so harmless did the request seem that his wish was
granted. His groom placed the saddle and bridle on the horse, who, when
his master mounted, shook his mane for joy. At first the faithful
creature moved gently and proudly in the circle of the guard, looking
round him and snorting. When Ekkelein patted his powerful, smooth neck,
the muscles of the noble animal grew larger and the veins of his flanks
swelled at the touch of the master's hand. He spurned the ground, raised
his fore-feet and threw himself forward into a thundering gallop.
Lightly and gently the spur of the rider touched his sides: he rushed
furiously round the court. Guards and jailors shrank back before the
stones which his hoofs threw high into the air. But the gate was secure
and escape not to be thought of. Then, whoever is able to read the eyes
of dumb beasts might have seen flaming in those of Ekkelein's charger a
lament like this: "How, my noble master? Shalt thou die here? Shall thy
knightly blood flow ignominiously in this miserable place! Shall I never
again carry thee into the battle, or bear thee through the defiles and
the forests, and never more eat golden oats out of thy brave hand! O my
master, save thyself! Trust in me and my strength and the impossible
shall become possible." The horse raised himself. The knight struck both
spurs into his sides, held breath and, stooping low, embraced with both
arms the neck of the faithful steed, from whose hoofs showered sparks of
fire. Before the burghers could stay them, before the guards could lift
a finger, before breath could be drawn, the desperate spring was made
and man and horse were over the parapet which overhung the moat 100 feet
below. They leaped not--as it appeared to the incredulous eyes that
peeped at them from the top of the battlements--to their destruction;
for, after a huge splash and struggle in the waters of the fosse, horse
and rider rose again to the surface, and, long before the drawbridge
could be let down and his captors could pursue him, Ekkelein was away in
the deep forest, galloping on his brave steed, well on the road to the
impregnable castle of Gailingen. The dent made by the horse's hoofs in
the stones below is there to this day. Can we wonder if the story went
round that it was his Satanic majesty who had presented the bold knight
with this wondrous steed, the better to facilitate the various little
errands with which he had entrusted him?
Fortunately for the burgesses of Nuremberg not every free-knight could
rely on such diabolic means of succour, so that they were able to defend
themselves with energy and success against the noble and aggressive
freebooters. The Council saw to it that the fortifications were
continually strengthened and they did not despise the aid of the
newly-introduced blunderbuss.[12] Indeed, even in the field the
burgesses and their mercenaries showed themselves a match for the
free-knights. So confident was Nuremberg in her own resources that at
first she refused to join the great league of all the Rhenish towns
founded in 1381, but three years later she came in. Though the great
princes of the Empire were very jealous of such leagues, the Kaiser
managed to patch up a union, with himself at the head, between this
league and the princes, and called it the "Heidelberg Union" for the
maintenance of peace. However a year or two later the Dukes of Bavaria,
jealous as ever of the towns, broke loose, and seized the Archbishop
Pilgrim von Salzburg, a friend of the towns, and some Nuremberg
merchants. The Kaiser, instead of taking strong measures at once,
pursued his usual policy of shilly-shally. But in January 1388 a strong
army of the League started from Augsburg, ravaging all Bavaria with fire
and sword. To this army Nuremberg contributed some mounted mercenaries,
and at the same time marched an army of her own--8000 strong, a very
large army for those days--against Hilpoltstein, but without success.
The war resolved itself into a struggle between the interests of the
princes and of the towns. The towns failed to hold together, and paid
the penalty in failure. They had commenced hostilities vigorously, but
Nuremberg set the example of wavering. In a year or so she made peace on
no very favourable terms, consenting to pay heavy indemnities. Still,
the general result of the war, though the towns were not successful, was
not to lower the status of the towns. So far as Nuremberg was concerned
the administration of the war had been carried on by a Committee of the
Rat--the Kriegsrat, which henceforth became permanent. As to the
expenses, they were in part defrayed by a wholesale seizure of Jews and
confiscation of their property. This disgraceful proceeding was done by
the League in general (1385, and again in 1390), and countenanced by the
Kaiser. Here is a characteristic story of that very feckless Kaiser,
which will show how fit he was to govern the German Empire.
Wenzel, the story runs, demanded from the Nuremberg Council the key of
the _Stadtthor_. The Council, though very loth to do so, gave him the
key, on condition that he would grant them a request in return. The
Kaiser consented. When he graciously inquired what it was they demanded,
the Burgomeister asked for the key back again! The Kaiser was so enraged
that he slapped the Burgomeister on the cheek, and rode off in a royal
huff to Rothenburg. In revenge, on St. Margaret's Day, when the
consecration of the _Schlosskapelle_ was celebrated, he allowed his
followers to plunder the booths of the fair held round about the castle.
Wenzel, in fact, let things go their own gait in the Empire. Knights
plundered and traders quarrelled as they would. The Kaiser indulged in
bouts of drinking, in long hunting forays, and in insane fits of rage.
At last the princes began to dispense with his presence. They called a
Reichstag at Frankfort and sent to him demanding a regent. Then Wenzel
roused himself, returned to Nuremberg, and proclaimed a public peace
(1397). A crusade against the turbulent knights in the valley of the
Pegnitz was undertaken and proved successful. Their castles were taken
and Wenzel forbade them to be rebuilt. This was but a momentary outburst
of energy on his part. He soon resumed his old indifference. In 1400 the
discontent of the princes came to a head. Wenzel was deposed: Ruprecht
von der Pfalz was chosen King and, after some cautious hesitation, was
finally accepted by the towns.
In a charter confirming her privileges Ruprecht granted to Nuremberg the
care of the Reichsburg at all times, and made the town independent of
the Burggraf in the time of feud,--excused them, that is, from assisting
him in his little wars. Nuremberg gave Ruprecht active support in the
proceedings against Wenzel; her chief exploit being the capture of
Rothenburg after a siege of five weeks. When Ruprecht died (1410) Jobst
and Sigismund were competitors for the Kaisership, Wenzel too striking
in with claims for reinstatement. _Both_ the former were elected, so
that Germany rejoiced in as many Kaisers as Christianity had Popes.
Happily Jobst died in three months, and Sigismund, chiefly through the
faithful and unwearied diligence of Burggraf Frederick VI. of Nuremberg,
became Kaiser, "an always hoping, never resting, unsuccessful, vain and
empty Kaiser. Specious, speculative, given to eloquence, diplomacy, and
the windy instead of the solid arts: always short of money for one
thing." This last fault affected Nuremberg in more than one way. In the
first place it necessitated the borrowing of heavy loans from her.
Throughout the fourteenth century and onwards the Kaisers asked and
received very large loans (pleasantly so-called) from Nuremberg. Wenzel,
Ruprecht and Sigismund demanded ever larger and increasingly frequent
donations. Sometimes, but not very often, the citizens were rewarded by
the concession of a charter or the ratification of some procedure on
their part. But the price was, of course, out of all proportion to the
value of the thing purchased. As an example of these dealings we may
instance the "loan" exacted by Sigismund in 1430, which amounted to 9000
gulden, besides other requisitions in the same year. One sees, at any
rate, that Nuremberg must have been sufficiently full-blooded to endure
being bled in this manner. But it was this same impecuniosity on the
part of the Kaiser which led him to sell outright, for a total sum of
400,000 gulden, the Electorate of Brandenburg, with its land, titles and
sovereign electorship and all to Burggraf Frederick, who already held it
in pawn. This step was, in its immediate results at least, distinctly
advantageous to Nuremberg. Clever and energetic, the Burggraf set about
suppressing the robber-knights and establishing order.
Burggraf Frederick on his first coming to Brandenburg found but a
cool reception as Statthalter. He came as a representative of law
and rule; and there had been many noble gentlemen of the Turpin
profession helping themselves by a ruleless life of late. Industry
was at a low ebb, violence was rife; plunder and disorder
everywhere; trade wrecked, private feuds abounding; too much the
habit of baronial gentlemen to live by the saddle, as they termed
it; that is by highway robbery in modern phrase. At first the
Burggraf tried gentle methods, but when he found the noble lords
scoffed at him, calling him a "Nürnberger Tand" (Nuremberg Toy),
and continued their plunderings and other contumacies, then with
the aid of his Frankish men-at-arms, neighbouring potentates and
artillery--one huge gun, a twenty-four pounder, called Lazy Peg
(_Faule Grete_), is mentioned--he set to work, and in a remarkably
short period established comparative peace and order.[13]
That was a piece of work highly acceptable, we may be sure, to the
merchants of Nuremberg. Were they not concerned in bringing fish and
wool from the North, to exchange them in Italy and Venice for the silks
and spices of the East?
In 1414 we catch a glimpse of the sombre figure of John Huss, the
reformer, the Bohemian successor of Wiclif, passing through Nuremberg.
The people here seem to have sympathised with his views. He explained
his position to the clergy and council, and they invited him to return
to them if he fared successfully at Kostnitz. But there he met his
martyrdom. His supporters, the down-trodden peasantry of Bohemia,
thereupon rose in a revolt, which Empire for a long while utterly failed
to suppress. Nuremberg had exhibited no great enthusiasm against
heretics. Though, in 1399, she had burnt six women and a man for
heresy, yet she had given Huss a warm welcome. But the devastation
wrought by the Hussite army alienated all sympathy, and on the
suppression of the "heretics," Nuremberg joined in the universal
rejoicings of all steady-going merchants. She had taken occasional part
in the Hussite wars; but chiefly through paying money instead of sending
a proper contingent of men--a fact which illustrates the narrow, selfish
and lazy policy of the town communities where the Empire was concerned.
It was impossible for the Emperor to keep order with insufficient means
of police. For the Emperor got not a foot of German territory with his
Imperial crown. He was merely the feudal head, and as such found it very
hard to get troops or money from the German people. Most of the members
of the Empire--petty princes and Imperial towns alike--were concerned
chiefly not with the ordering of the Empire but with becoming sovereign
in their own territories. There was very little feeling of Imperial
unity. If the Empire did not do its duty by the towns, the towns did
very little for the Empire, beyond supplying money.
The Nurembergers were energetic enough when it came to fortifying their
town on the approach of the victorious Hussites (1430). The grim
heretics advanced ravaging and destroying the country, depopulating the
towns. Night and day, men, women and children worked at the walls,
striving to render the place impregnable. But the danger passed away.
Thanks to the Markgraf Frederick, who bought them off very cheaply, the
Hussites returned, for the time, in peace to their homes.
Sigismund succeeded in being crowned at Rome in 1433, and on this
occasion he knighted Sebald Behaim, of the great Nuremberg family of
that name, and gave to Nuremberg a charter confirming her privileges
and giving her the right to keep the Imperial jewels, insignia, and
sacred relics for ever. These were brought with great pomp and rejoicing
to the Church of the Holy Spirit (_Neuenspital_) and there they were
kept and jealously guarded till 1796. They were shown with much ceremony
once a year to the people. This occasion was a very popular festival
down to the Reformation days. But in 1523 the relics were shown for the
last time.
Frederick the Third we shall only mention for the sake of the
picturesque ceremonial which occurred when he held his first Reichstag
at Nuremberg, at Easter 1442. The Kaiser rode in at the Spittlerthor. In
the middle of the street where he had to pass St. Jakobskirche a table
was spread on which, besides a crucifix, were placed the heads of St.
Sebald and St. Cyprian. The Kaiser dismounted, took the cross from the
Abbot of St. Ægidius and kissed it.
Thereupon one of the holy skulls was placed on the Kaiser's head, whilst
the priests and choristers in surplices and birettas sang responses. The
Kaiser and his retinue and all the priesthood then made a solemn
procession to the Sebalduskirche. Here the Kaiser worshipped on his
knees before the altar. The priest read the special collect over him,
and, taking a handful of flax and tow, lighted it and, as it burnt,
exclaimed in a loud voice, "Most illustrious Kaiser, _sic transit gloria
mundi_." Then the chorus of priests burst out into the strains of the
_Te Deum_, and the Kaiser went his way in the world--a compromising
Emperor who slept through a long reign to the no small detriment of
Germany.
We must not think of the Nurembergers as altogether given up to trade
and merchandise. They were capable of being stirred up into the deepest
religious enthusiasm. I know not what reception they gave to the
Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, who (1451) came preaching through Germany,
and passed through Nuremberg selling "Indulgences" like a cheap-jack,
lowering his price from time to time to get rid of his stock. But the
monk, Capistranus, a great preacher, who came in the following year,
created so tremendous a sensation by his eloquence and by miracles which
he wrought that the people, we are told, flocked in crowds, laden with
their new-fashioned pointed shoes, their _Schlitten_ (sledges--harmless
enough one would have thought--but they were regarded as extravagant
luxuries), and thousands of dice and cards, and burnt them all in the
market-place.
Next year they were stirred again by the terrible news that the Turks
had taken Constantinople. Eleven hundred burghers seized their arms and
went as Crusaders to help the Hungarians in Belgrade against the infidel
Turk.[14] But they did not do great deeds. Scarce a third of them
returned at Christmastide. The rest had died of hardship or of disease.
This gave the Council a distaste for Crusades. They took to discouraging
the preachers who came to beat up recruits against Hussites or Turks.
The town, it was found, had to support the widows and children of the
dead Crusaders.
The preachings of the firebrand Johannes Capistranus had another evil
result. The Jews since the persecution in 1349 had not been much
molested, though continually squeezed for money by both Kaiser and
Council. But the increase in their numbers, the riches they had
accumulated through usury, and the eloquence of this monk all tended to
rouse religious hatred.
"The hatred against the Jews is so general in Germany," writes
Froissart in 1497, "that the calmest people are beside themselves
when the conversation turns on their usury. I should not be
surprised if on a sudden a bloody persecution broke out against
them all over the country. They have already been forcibly expelled
from many towns."
After many half resolves, the Council determined to ask Maximilian to
drive these "sucking leeches" from the town. Reluctantly he consented.
"Their numbers have increased too much. Under pretext of loans they
have given themselves up to a dangerous and detestable traffic of
usury. Many honourable citizens, deceived by their devices, are so
deeply in debt that they see their private honour and their very
means of existence threatened. For these reasons the Jews are
invited to quit the town altogether within a period fixed by the
Council. They are permitted to take with them their moveable
property, but henceforth none of them shall have the right to
reside in Nuremberg."[15]
On the 10th of March 1499, driven from their homes amid the curses of
the Christians, the Jews left Nuremberg with groans and lamentations,
never to dwell there again till 1850. Maximilian sold their houses to
the Council. Their churchyard was built over, their tombstones used for
building the Corn Exchange--(die Waage). But no persecution, no
repression, no laws forbidding commercial transactions between Christian
and Jew, could ever subdue that despised but indomitable race. Most of
them found refuge in Frankfort; but some years later, with the
encouragement of the Markgrafs of Brandenburg, many of them settled at
Fürth, which speedily became a serious commercial rival to Nuremberg,
and remains to this day as prosperous as her neighbour.
One curious and interesting result this expulsion had. In order to
supply the place of the money-lenders the Emperor ordered a Leihaus or
State Pawnshop to be built, where money was to be advanced at a
moderate percentage on property to people in difficulties. It was to be
run at cost price, or, if there were any surplus, it was to go to the
State. This was an imitation of the Italian system (Monte di Pietà)
already in vogue at Augsburg--a system not without interest to the
Englishman of to-day.
During the Thirty Years War, the Jews in Fürth, oppressed by the
Imperial troops, asked to be received back into Nuremberg. Some of the
Council were ready to comply, on the receipt of a large payment, but the
majority refused to have the "damaging rascals" within their walls.
So long did the hostility towards the Jews survive here that it was not
till 1800 that the regulation was done away with by which, in order to
stop a day in Nuremberg, a Jew had to pay a personal tax of 45 kreuzer,
and, in addition, had to be accompanied by a guard, for he was not
allowed to walk in the streets alone. This guard was usually an old
woman, who followed her Jew everywhere for the consideration of 15
kreuzer.