There can be no doubt that the Jews began to be associated with England and the British Isles later than with any other country of western Europe that received them in the Middle Ages. Fantasy has indeed attempted to carry the story back to a remote antiquity, to the period of the fall of the kingdom of Judaea and the destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar; while some sober students do not consider it improbable that, with the Phoenician traders who reached Cornwall in the seventh or eighth century before the Christian era, there may have come a few a adventurous Hebrews from the maritime territories of the Holy Land. 1 But it is more likely that the connexion began centuries later, in Roman times, when merchants or captives from Palestine reached every province of the Empire. The legendary missionary journey of St. Paul, which led to the foundation of the British church, presupposes the existence of a Jewish community—always the initial object of his propaganda—even before the capture of Jerusalem by Titus in the year 70. After that catastrophe, the entire Roman world was flooded with Palestinian slaves, and there is no reason to imagine that Britain was excepted. Tangible proof of intercourse between the two lands at this period has been provided by the discovery, during the course of excavations in Central London, of a Jewish coin minted in Judaea during the interlude of local independence under Bar Cochba (A.D. 132-5). 2 Whoever brought it—Roman legionary or Jewish captive—it is probable that trade and traders went between the two provinces by the same route that was followed by this insignificant relic. There is accordingly good reason to believe that the greater urban centres in Britain harboured, if not organized Jewish communities, at least some nucleus of Jewish population. St. Jerome, in the fourth century, certainly thought so; and, in more than one passage of his writings, he specifically referred to the extension of the Diaspora as far as this remote island province, and to the conviction of the Jews of his day that their co-religionists would be gathered even thence at the time of the great final Deliverance. 3 If such a community existed it must have been wiped out in the anarchical interlude of the Teutonic invasions, when the Romanised Celts yielded to the Anglo-Saxons, and Britannia became England. In the Saxon period the Jewish traders, then so important in the Mediterranean world and on the Continent of Europe, may have extended their activities as far as the British Isles, but all the evidence formerly adduced in support of this hypothesis is apocryphal. 4 Whether or no individuals visited the country, it may be stated with confidence that no permanent settlement was formed, no community established, and no synagogue built. This is not the place to describe in detail how the normally constituted Syrian people known as the Jews were dispossessed of their ancestral home, scattered to every corner of the known world, and driven overwhelmingly into an urban existence. Though before the fall of the Roman Empire even those of the Diaspora in Europe continued to be interested in agriculture, as their brethren in Palestine and Mesopotamia had been, they were gradually excluded from this. The rise of Christianity undermined their economic and social life. The Church (and its over-ready disciples, the Christian emperors) frowned on their intercourse with true believers on equal terms, hampered their ownership of land, and flatly forbade them not only to have Christians in their employment, but even to acquire moral authority over them in a professional capacity. Slowly, they were driven out of ordinary activities, and restricted to those for which their international connexions, their adaptability, and their acumen gave them perhaps special qualification. 5 In the Dark Ages, the terms 'merchant' and 'Jew' were sometimes used, in western Europe, virtually as synonyms: and certain branches of trade and manufacture were almost exclusively in Jewish hands. But, as time went on, Gentile competition in these spheres became increasingly strong. The Italian maritime republics embarked upon commercial activities with a degree of cohesion, reinforced by political backing, which the Jews could not emulate. Trade was everywhere organized on a co-operative basis, and impregnated with a feeling of religious solidarity which left few loopholes for the unbeliever. Accordingly, the Jew was driven to employ his capital in the only manner that remained open. Unable to engage in personal enterprise, he had to finance that of others—to lend out his capital, that is, at interest. This tendency became all the more marked since an impossible idealism backed by faulty exegesis was causing the Church—oblivious of the fact that credit is a necessity in any society which has progressed beyond its most rudimentary stage—to oppose the lending of money at interest in any circumstances whatsoever. Not until the Middle Ages were drawing to their close did the change become anything like general. Nevertheless, in some parts of Europe, the process had made great progress as early as the eleventh century, when the Jewish financier or moneylender (the terms are interchangeable) was already a familiar figure. Particularly was this the case in north-eastern France, with which (as we shall see) medieval Anglo-Jewry, as England generally, was to be most intimately associated. With the Norman Conquest of 1066 England became an integral part of the European system for the first time since the Roman evacuation. Thus it entered at last into the cognizance of the Jewish communities of the Continent, hitherto barely aware of its existence. 6 The virtual absence of a middle class and the scarcity of money (now rendered more necessary by new social and economic developments) gave enterprising capitalists a unique opportunity. In the continental possessions of William the Conqueror, considerable Jewish communities were already to be found at Rouen, for example, they had been settled from about the year 1,000 at the latest). 7 It was natural for some of the more adventurous spirits to follow their duke to the new field of enterprise that offered itself, even if (as is sometimes reported) he did not specifically invite them. 8 Within a short period, congregations—probably consisting in no case of more than a handful of persons—were to be found in a few of the greater cities, that of London of course predominating. The earliest settlers originated almost exclusively from northern France, on which the English communities remained to a very large degree dependent culturally, linguistically, and economically. From the beginning there were also a few individuals from the Rhineland, which at that time formed a singleblocwith Champagne in the geography of the Jewish world. Subsequently, isolated individuals or families arrived from further afield. The influx was slow, but its effects were important. While the face of England was being Normanized, while the administration was being reformed on the continental pattern, and while feudalism in its widest sense was being established, England gave its tardy welcome to a band of Jewish wanderers, and the most narrowly feudal of all the Jewish communities of the Middle Ages came into existence. Of the history of the English Jews under the first two Norman monarchs, hardly anything is known. From the scanty glimpses that we are afforded, it would seem that they were treated with favour—contemptuous, perhaps, but solid. Except for the incidental statement that Jews had been brought over from Rouen to England by William the Conqueror, there is no authentic reference to them during his reign.William Rufusencouraged the exotic strangers somewhat too exuberantly, words at least, if we are to believe contemporary accounts. On a certain solemnity when the Jews of London brought him a gift he persuaded them to enter into a religious discussion with bishops and churchmen present at court. Not content with the scandal caused by this, he jestingly swore, by the Holy Face of Lucca, that if they were victorious he would himself embrace Judaism—an impiety which can hardly have enhanced their popularity in ecclesiastical circles. 9 Not, indeed, that there was any objection on the part of the Church to religious discussion as such. About the same time, a certain Jew who had studied at the famous Talmudic academy of Mainz entered into a friendly argument on matters of faith with Gilbert Crispin, abbot of Westminster, with whom he had business dealings. The tenor of the conversation, far more amicable in tone than most medieval encounters of the sort, was afterwards committed to writing by the abbot and communicated to St. Anselm, the learned archbishop of Canterbury. 10 In consequence of these arguments (so at least the ecclesiastical champion claimed) a Jew was converted to Christianity and became a monk; and he was followed to the font not long afterwards by another, who was earnestly commended by Anselm to the charity of zealous Christians. 11 This is absolutely all that is known with any degree of assurance of the Jews in England until 1100. It was at this period that there took place the great massacre of the Jews of Rouen by the Crusading knights in 1096—a prelude to the atrocities on the Rhineland—when all who refused to accept baptism were butchered forthwith. Those who managed to escape would naturally have sought refuge in their duke's domains across the Channel, as yet untouched by the Crusading frenzy. It is likely that a settled and relatively numerous Anglo-Jewish community owes its origin to this event, though there is no documentary evidence to support the assumption. With the reign of Henry I (1100-35) we begin to be on surer ground. It is known that he issued a charter of protection to the Jews, or at least to certain individuals. The text of this is now lost, but it was so important that it continued to be referred to and imitated for nearly two centuries as a model document, and it may be regarded as the fundamental charter of liberties of medieval English Jewry. It guaranteed, above all, liberty of movement throughout the country, relief from ordinary tolls, protection from misusage, free recourse to royal justice and responsibility to no other, permission to retain land taken in pledge as security, and special provision to ensure fair trial. It confirmed the community, in short, in a position of privilege as a separate entity—existing for the king's advantage, protected by him in all legitimate transactions and answerable to him alone. This charter was confirmed by succeeding rulers after their accession, though not gratuitously. 12 Protected by these privileges, English Jewry slowly gathered strength. So far did numbers increase that in the course of this reign preachers are said to have been dispatched to London, York, Cambridge, Oxford, Norwich, and Bristol—the principal towns of the realm—to act as a corrective to Jewish influence. For some years an illustrious ex-Jew was prominent as royal physician—the Spaniard Petrus Alfonsi (c. 1062-1110), an important figure in the history of the transmission of the Hellenic legacy of the Arabs to medieval Europe, author of the homiletic collection known as the Training School for Clergy, and a welcome visitor at Malvern Abbey. 13 The first mention of the 'Street of the Jews' in London is found about 1128, in the 'Terrier' of St. Paul's; 14 while references to Jewish activities in finance are recorded three years later in the earliest extant record of the Exchequer, the Pipe Roll of the 31st year of Henry I (1130-1). This invaluable document shows us a community centred in London. At its head is a certain Rabbi Joseph, popularly known as Rubi Gotsce 15 —obviously a person of considerable reputation in the intellectual world and presumably the outstanding scholar in Anglo-Jewry in the first half of the twelfth century. 16 He appears to have originated in Rouen, with which city his children retained their associations. His descendants continued to play an important part in Anglo-Jewish life for more than a century. Besides being a notable scholar, Rubi Gotsce was also a capable financier. Three or four other prominent London businessmen are also mentioned, especially Manasser (Menasseh) and Jacob, who was assisted in his business affairs by his wife. Their transactions were on a large scale, and mainly, it seems, with the nobility (Jacob has dealings also with the Abbot of Westminster). As always in later history, the Crown was acquisitive rather than benevolent, and would impartially accept a promise of money from a noble to exert pressure on the Jews to remit his debts, or a gift from the Jews to exert pressure on the other side to pay them. Rubi Gotsce and his associates were on the other hand making advances to the Crown also, though of relatively small amounts. A ruthless method of evading payment was found, as will be seen later; so ruthless indeed as to qualify the accepted view, that this was in every respect a halcyon period for English Jewry. 17 Indeed, from the few glimpses that we are afforded it does not appear that the condition of the community, though generally tranquil, was enviable. During the civil war between Stephen and the 'Empress' Matilda, they clearly suffered more than the rest of the population. The case of Oxford was no doubt typical. In 1141, during her occupation of that city, Matilda imposed a levy on the Jews. When the place was recaptured by her rival, he demanded from them, by way of punishment for their complaisance, three and a half times as much. Since the victims were unwilling, he sent incendiaries bearing lighted torches with instructions to set fire to all the Jewish houses. Only when one of the finest had been consumed by the flames (it was that of the communal magnate, Aaron fil' Isaac, the earliest known Oxford Jew) did his co-religionists provide what was asked. 18 Though the Crusading movement had as yet gained only a slight footing in England, the fanatical spirit which it engendered was not altogether absent. About 1130 the London Jews were accused of killing a sick man, who perhaps had gone to one of them for medical treatment—an anticipation of the cruder accusations which were to make their appearance not long after. This charge seems to have given rise to a persecution of some sort—how virulent cannot be determined. But, like most vicissitudes of Jewish life, it was turned to the advantage of the Exchequer. The London community, with Rubi Gotsce at its head, was fined the enormous sum of £2,000. Out of this the claims of Jewish financiers on the Crown were satisfied, or rather cancelled, the credit balance being thus turned into a debit balance of a far greater magnitude and a considerable cash payment being made besides. The timeliness of the accusation, from the point of view of the Exchequer, was such as to make one suspect that the coincidence was not altogether accidental. 19 In 1144 the conception implicit in this charge received a terrible extension. On Easter Eve of that year, the dead body of a young skinner's apprentice, named William, was found in a wood near Norwich. Modern inquirers, after careful examination of the facts, have concluded that the child probably lost consciousness in consequence of a cataleptic fit, and was buried prematurely by his relatives. It was bruited about, however, that he was a victim of the Jews, who had enticed him away from his family and crucified him after synagogue service on the second day of Passover, in mockery of the Passion of Jesus. This was the first recorded instance in the medieval world of the infamous Ritual Murder accusation, which subsequently caused the Jews throughout Europe untold misery. A wave of religious exaltation swept through the city; and the child's body was buried with all solemnity in the Cathedral, where miracles were said to be wrought at the graveside. The civil authorities did not indeed give any encouragement to this outbreak. The Jews were protected to his utmost ability by the sheriff, who permitted them to seek refuge in the Castle, and would not allow them to be taken to the bishop's court for a biased trial. Nevertheless, after they ventured into the open, one of the leaders of the community was murdered by the followers of a lawless knight who was in his debt; and this was not apparently the only case. Down to the time of the Reformation, the relics of William of Norwich were venerated as those of a saint and martyr, and he remained a popular figure in the hagiology of the eastern counties. 20 It is not recorded that these allegations had any wider repercussions. That there were none is hardly to be credited: in 1146, indeed, during the Second Crusade, Bernard of Clairvaux thought it necessary to address his famous appeal against the molestation of the Jews to England, as well as to Germany and France. A few individuals resident in England found it advisable at this period to return to Cologne, near which place one of them, Simeon the Pious of Treves, was murdered by the Crusaders on refusing to be baptized. Nevertheless, a contemporary Hebrew chronicler gratefully records how Stephen, king of England, was inspired to protect the Jews of his realm, not allowing them to be molested in their persons or property. Thus safeguarded, the Anglo-Jewish communities were able to consolidate themselves, attaining in the next generation the zenith of their prosperity. During the long reign of Henry II (1154-89) they and the country enjoyed peace. The crusading spirit had as yet gained little hold. There was no pretext therefore for Englishmen to imitate the massacres which intermittently continued on the Continent. The king mulcted the Jews, indeed, to the utmost; but at the same time he protected and to a certain extent even encouraged them. He not only confirmed, but even extended, his grandfather's charter of protection, formally granting the Jews of England the privilege of internal jurisdiction in accordance with Talmudic law, except in the case of offences against public order. 21 Contemporary chroniclers speak bitterly (if with palpable exaggeration) of the favour with which the sovereign treated his Jewry. 'By an absurd arrangement', writes one of them, 'they were happy and renowned far more than the Christians, and, swelling very impudently against Christ through their good fortune, did much injury to the Christians. 22 Jurnet (=Jacob), a great Norwich capitalist, who at the beginning of the reign committed the deadly sin of marrying a Christian heiress and actually converted her to Judaism, was permitted to return to England; though he had to pay a stupendous fine (for which the communities of the realm were made responsible), and his bride forfeited her lands. 23 Jews were allowed to hold property as tenants-in-chief of the Crown, though the world would have been scandalized had they attempted to discharge their obligations by performing military service. 24 Even churchmen treated them with marked tolerance. Notwithstanding the laws which forbade it, Jewish financiers lent money to abbeys and minsters on the security of plate, vessels used in divine worship, and—worst scandal of all—relics of the saints. 25 They were allowed to place their womenfolk and children in the monasteries for safety at times of disturbance. They kept their business-deeds in the cathedral treasuries, then generally used for safeguarding valuables in emergency. In Canterbury and Bury St. Edmunds, they even took sides in monastic politics when a fresh abbot was elected, and prayed in their synagogue for the success of the candidate whom they favoured. They were familiar figures in St. Paul's Cathedral in London, to which they resorted to seek their debtors. Jews and clerics rode together on journeys, and jested together in bad French. 26 In London, Lincoln, and York, the Jewish financiers aroused comment by the stone houses—almost fortress-like in their strength—which they built for their security at a time when the majority of the population had to content themselves with flimsy constructions of wood. 27 At the beginning of the reign of Henry II, according to the official Treasury records, there were Jewish nuclei not only in London but also in Norwich, Lincoln, Winchester, Cambridge, Thetford, Northampton, Bungay, Oxford, and Gloucester (the order given is that of financial, and presumably in most cases numerical, importance). 28 In addition, isolated families were living in Worcester and Leicester, and from other sources we know communities to have existed in Bristol and York. In consequence of favourable conditions, there seems to have been during the course of the reign a veritable influx from the Continent—stimulated without doubt by the expulsion of the Jews from the Ile de France in 1182, and facilitated by the immense extension of the Angevin possessions overseas. The area of settlement expanded, the records showing further groups before the end of the reign at Exeter, Stamford, Lynn, Bury, Bedford, Devizes, Ipswich, Canterbury, Hereford, Dunstable, Chichester Newport, and some smaller places. New arrivals may sometimes be traced in literary sources. Abraham ibn Ezra, the wandering Spanish scholar, was in London in 1158; and there are indications that he returned to England to die. 29 Rabbi Yomtob of Joigny, an eminent pupil of the famous Jacob of Ramerupt ('Rabbenu Tam'), settled at York. His contemporary and fellow disciple, Jacob of Orleans, migrated to London. The influx from Germany was so great that an embassy was sent to England in 1168 by Frederick Barbarossa protested (as it seems) at the loss of these profitable subjects, over whom the emperor claimed special rights. As a result, some of them were forced to return overseas, while a fine of 5,000 marks was exacted from those who remained. 30 In a roll of the community of London in 1186 we find Jews from Spain, Morocco, and France (Etampes, Joigny, and Pontoise). This was paralleled in other cities of the kingdom. Jews from Paris and elsewhere in France were settled at York; Jews from Italy (known as ‘Lombard') in Lincoln Nottingham, and Winchester; and there is recorded even an individual from Russia, where the Rabbis of Kiev and Novgorod were already famous. The official records at the close of the reign show scattered about the country some 300 Jewish business men and householders, whose contributions to the Exchequer were worth recording. 31 Hitherto, the burial-ground in London had to serve for the whole kingdom. When a death occurred, the body was transported thither by wagon, even from places as far away as Exeter or York. The toll-lists specified the charge to be made for a dead Jew; and we read gruesome accounts of how the dogs would bay after the corpse on the road. 32 With the increase of population, such an arrangement was out of the question; and, in 1177, each community was permitted to purchase a place for interring its dead outside the city walls. 33 Few known episodes disturbed the tenor of Anglo-Jewish life during the reign, but it was not invariably smooth. Before the terrible precedent set at Norwich in 1144 was imitated abroad (the first Ritual Murder accusation on the Continent was that of Blois, in 1171) a similar case took place in the city of Gloucester, where a number of Jews assembled in March 1168, at Passover-time, in honour of a circumcision in the family of a prominent member of the community. It was alleged that they took advantage of this to seize upon a Christian child named Harold, whom they martyred with unspeakable tortures, afterwards throwing the body into the River Severn. In 118 a similar incident was reported at Bury St. Edmunds, where a certain Robert was the alleged victim; and there was yet another in Bristol in 1183. 34 The relics of these youths, like those of 'St.' William of Norwich, were subsequently venerated as those of martyrs. None of these cases apparently entailed any serious consequences upon the Jewish community at large, safe in the royal protection. It is true that the Assize of Arms of 1181 (which ensured the possession by every Englishman of adequate weapons) forbade Jews to retain 'mail or hauberk', which were to be sold or given away; but this clause was clearly prompted by the desire to have all weapons deposited where they would be most usefully employed, rather than by any wish to leave the Jews unprotected. 35 The favour and protection enjoyed by the Jews under the first Plantagenet ruler were not due (as was the case, with certain reservations, later on) simply to their importance as tax-payers. This was of course considerable; and when the king went abroad, he often raised large sums by fine or loan from leading members of the community. But they were at the same time what might be termed Treasury agents, advancing large sums to the Crown to defray day-to-day expenditure or unexpected calls, and being repaid by drafts on the sheriffs, secured on the ‘ferm of the Shire' or county revenue. Already in the time of Henry I, as we have seen, Rubi Gotsce of London and certain of his associates had dealings with the Crown. These were greatly extended under Henry II when, for convenience as well as security, certain capitalists found it convenient to pool their resources and to work together. Hence, after the middle of the reign, we find a few prominent consortia of Jews dealing with the Treasury, the heavy advances that they made being reflected in orders for repayment in due course out of the county revenues. Brun of London, Josce Quatrebuches, and the brothers Jurnet and Benedict of Norwich form one group, providing the Crown on a single occasion, in 1177, with as much as 5,750 marks (£3,833. 6s. 8d.) in one payment, whether as a loan or enforced gift. Another group was formed by Deodatus Episcopus, 36 Vives of Cambridge, and the brothers Moses and Benedict fil' Sara whose names are noted in at least thirty Treasury transactions in the course of a single year. 37 In the west of England, Moses of Bristol and Belaset his wife acted as Crown agents. Isaac—fil'- Rabbi, son of Rubi Gotsce and the principal member of the London community, worked in loose association with the first group, having been officially authorized to enter into partnership with Jurnet of Norwich. Such was his status that he and his family were granted the manor of Ham by the Crown for services rendered. 38 For some years his financial supremacy was unquestioned. After 1166, however, he began to be outdone in financial importance by his occasional associate, Aaron of Lincoln, who for some years occupied the leading place among the Jews of England, and was among the outstanding European financiers of the twelfth century. Between the two of them, English Jewry was organized to a certain extent into a great co-operative banking association, spread throughout the country. Like the other Jewish financiers, Aaron of Lincoln periodically made advances to the Crown on the security of the local taxation; in 1166 (when his transactions are first mentioned) these amounted to over £600. He advanced money to private individuals on corn, armour, estates, and houses, acquiring thus important interests in twenty-five counties (especially in the east and south-east of England), in at least seventeen of which he maintained his agents. Loans were contracted with him to assist in the building of no less than nine Cistercian abbeys, as well as the cathedrals of Lincoln and Peterborough. So considerable was his assistance in the construction of the famous conventual church at St. Albans that he used to boast, with more outspokenness than tact, that it was he who had made the great window in the church, and had prepared a home for the saint when he had been without one. His mansion at Lincoln is said to be the oldest specimen of domestic architecture in the country still in occupation. When he died, about 1185, Aaron of Lincoln was probably the wealthiest person in England, in liquid assets. The king therefore did not scruple to vindicate his legal rights (seldom exercised to the full) and to declare all the property of the deceased usurer escheated to the Crown. The bullion and treasure was sent over to France to assist in the war then in progress against Philip Augustus. The vessel in which it was conveyed was lost with all it contained while crossing the Channel from Shoreham to Dieppe, in February 1187. The outstanding credits amounted to £15,000, being equivalent to three-quarters of the royal income in a normal year, owed by some 430 persons distributed over a great part of England. To deal with the collection of these amounts, it was found necessary to establish a special branch of the Exchequer, the Scaccarium Aaronis, with two treasurers and two clerks, whose labour of sorting out the debts and ascertaining what was due to the Crown took nearly five years. This bureau continued in existence until 1201, when (notwithstanding the chancellor's annual exhortation to debtors to compound with him for their dues) one-half of the total was still outstanding. Among those with whom the dead financier was found to have had dealings were the King of Scotland, the Count of Brittany, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the earls of Northampton, Arundel, Aumale, and Leicester, the bishops of Bangor and Lincoln, the Abbot of Westminster, the Prior of the Knights Hospitallers, and the towns of Winchester and Southampton. 39 Such transactions never failed to be turned to the advantage of the Exchequer. It has been estimated that an average of £3,000—that is, something like one-seventh of the total revenue—was derived at this period from the Jews every year in the normal course of taxation, without taking into account occasional windfalls when individual or community were ammerced for some real or imaginary trespass. In 1159, moreover, there had been a fresh departure in the financial administration. On the occasion of the king's expedition against rebellious Toulouse, the cost of the expeditionary force was defrayed in part by an arbitrary levy, or 'tallage', on the towns of the country, and on the Jews. 40 The amounts involved on this occasion were not excessively heavy. But, especially as far as the infidel financiers were concerned, it was a particularly dangerous innovation. Instead of having their ability utilized, as hitherto, they could henceforth be exploited, by a facile method which was to end in their ruin. It was not indeed until the close of the reign that the full potentialities of the new instrument were realized. In 1188, in order to finance the king's proposed Crusade, the Saladin Tithe —the first English tax on personal property—was ruthlessly levied throughout the kingdom. The Jews had been assessed separately in the previous year at Guildford, their contribution being fixed not at one-tenth of their property, as was the case with the other inhabitants of the country, but at one-fourth. It is significant that this was expected to bring in no less than £60,000, as against £70,000 from the general levy. Thus, the Jewish capital was estimated to constitute more than one-third of the mobile wealth of the nation—certainly an exaggeration, yet at the same time indicative of their relative importance to the Exchequer. 41 The collection of this vast sum—the equivalent of perhaps £1,500,000 in modern values—had not been completed when, in 1189, Henry Plantagenet ended his long life of struggle, leaving the throne to his worst-hated son. FootnotesChapter 1
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