The position of the Jews in Germany previous to the Crusades—The community of Speyer and Henry IV—The Martyrs of Treves and Speyer—Emmerich of Leiningen and the Martyrs of Mayence—Cruel persecutions at Cologne—Suffering of the Jews in Bohemia—Pitiful death of the Jews of Jerusalem—Emperor Henry's justice towards the Jews—Return of Converts to Judaism—Death of Alfassi and Rashi.
1096–1105 C. E.
Towards the end of the eleventh century there arose the first contest between Christianity and Islam on other ground than that of Spain. This contest turned the history of the world into new paths, and inserted in the history of the Jews pages dripping with blood. Peter of Amiens' lament about the ill-treatment of pilgrims in Jerusalem, which found a thousandfold echo at the Church congress in Clermont, had aroused piety, chivalry, ambition, and a number of other noble and ignoble passions, expressing themselves in a crusade. A terrible time ensued; but the greatest suffering fell on the German Jews, who had to seal their confession of faith with blood. Before the crusades, the Jews of Germany had dwelt in peace; they were not excluded from the possession of land, nor were they despised and humiliated. When Bishop Rüdiger Huozmann, of Speyer, extended the limits of the town by including the village Old Speyer, he knew no better way of improving the new portion than by allowing the Jews to have privileges and dwellings therein. He allowed the Jews to live under their own laws, and their secular head or their rabbin (Archisynagogus), like the burgomasters, decided lawsuits. The Jews could buy slaves, and hire male and female servants from Christians, in opposition to the canonical laws and against the will of Pope Gregory VII. In order to protect them from the mob, Rüdiger gave them a special quarter surrounded by a wall, which they might fortify and defend. These privileges, for which they annually paid 3½ lbs. of gold, were guaranteed to them for all time. Rüdiger adds in the charter that he was granting to the Jews the same favorable conditions that they enjoyed in other German towns. Emperor Henry IV confirmed these privileges, and added other more favorable clauses. This emperor, who, in spite of his thoughtlessness and fickleness, was never unjust, issued a decree (6th February, 1095) in favor of the Jews. No one was permitted to compel either the Jews or their slaves to be baptized. In a lawsuit between Jews and Christians, the process was to be conducted and the oaths administered according to Jewish law, and Jews could not be compelled to undergo ordeals by fire and water. Yet, not long after this, they were mocked at by the holy combatants in the sacred war. The German Jews and those of northern France were just then full of the hope of the coming of the Messiah. A mystic had calculated that the son of David would appear towards the end of the 250th cycle of the moon, between the years 1096 and 1104, and would lead back the sons of Judah to the Holy Land. But instead of the trumpet-blast of the Messianic redemption they heard only the wild cries of the crusaders: "The Jews have crucified our Saviour, therefore they must acknowledge him or die."
The first armies of the crusaders, one led by the pious Peter of Amiens and his eight knights, the other by Gottschalk, did no special harm to the Jews; they plundered Christians and Jews alike. But the hordes that followed, the scum of the French, English, and Flemish, in the absence of Mahometans, began the holy work of plundering and murdering with the Jews. It was a shameless mob of men and women, who indulged in every sort of excess. But these blasphemous crusaders were sanctified warriors; their sins, past and future, had been absolved. A monk threw out the inflammatory suggestion that the Jews should be brought to Christianity by force, an inscription, found on the grave of Jesus, having made their conversion the duty of all believers. This plan seemed to the wild crusaders alike profitable, easy to fulfil, and pleasing to God. They reasoned that the Jews were infidels like the Saracens, both deadly enemies of Christianity, and that the crusade could begin on the spot, if the beginning were made with the Jews. When the troops assembled in France and Germany, they were marked by the cross on their garments and by the blood of the Jews. The massacres in France, however, were few in number, although the first gathering of crusaders occurred there. In Germany security reigned at that time, and the Jews of the Rhine district had no suspicion of the sad fate which was about to befall them. However, at the bidding of the head of their congregation, they assembled to pray for their imperiled brethren in France. But these fortunately escaped with but little damage, because the princes and priests energetically took the part of the Jews. Only in Rouen, which belonged to England, the crusaders drove the Jews into a church, and, placing their swords at their breasts, gave them the choice between death and baptism. The persecutions first received a tragic character on German ground.
The hordes which moved through France and Flanders into German territory were led by a French knight, named William the Carpenter, who had begun by plundering his peasants in order to fit out his soldiers. The spirit animating William's troops is shown by one instance. They placed a goose and a herd of goats in the van, firmly believing that they would show them the way to Jerusalem. To such the Jewish communities of the Moselle and the Rhine were given over. The emperor Henry was at that time occupied in war with Italy, and the wildest anarchy prevailed in Germany. At the first news of the approach of William, the congregation of Treves was seized with such terror that some of its members killed their own children. Women and girls loaded themselves with stones, and threw themselves into the Moselle in order to escape baptism or disgrace at the hands of the holy murderers. The rest of the community entreated the bishop, Egilbert, for his protection. But this hard-hearted prince of the Church, who perhaps sought to cancel by zeal the imputation of heresy resting upon him, replied: "If you apostatize, I will give you peace and the enjoyment of your property. If you remain hardened, your soul and body shall be destroyed together." The Jews thereupon assembled in council, and determined, on the advice of Micah, one of the learned members of the congregation, to conform outwardly to Christianity. He said to the bishop: "Tell us quickly what to believe, and deliver us from the men that watch at the gate, ready to kill us." The priest recited the Catholic confession of faith, which the Jews repeated, and then baptized them. It was a disgraceful victory which Christianity celebrated over the congregation of Treves, but it did not last long. Thereupon the crusaders went to Speyer, where the congregation had lately had documentary promises of liberty and security. Here some Jews were dragged to the church, and commanded to undergo baptism. They resolutely refused, and were murdered (8th Iyar—3d May, 1096). The remaining Jews fled to the palace of the bishop Johannsen and to the emperor's castle. The bishop, more humane and pious than Egilbert, would not countenance such baptism by main force, and opposed the furious mob. The Jews also defended themselves vigorously, and no more of them fell victims to fanaticism. Johannsen caused some of the crusaders to be executed, an act strongly reproved by the monkish chroniclers. They asserted that he was bribed by the Jews. It is not to be wondered at that the Jews shuddered at baptism, and held themselves disgraced if they were borne off unconscious to the font. The Christianity of the eleventh century they could regard only as a terrible form of paganism. The worship of relics and pictures; the conduct of the head of the Church, who absolved nations from a sacred oath, and incited them to regicide; the immoral, dissipated life of the priesthood; the horrible practices of the crusaders—all these things reminded them much more of the practices of idolaters than of the followers of a holy God. As in the days of the Maccabees their ancestors had revolted against the enforced worship of Zeus and its attendant practices, so the German Jews felt towards the Christianity of the times.
The mob which undertook the attack on the congregation of Speyer does not appear to have been very powerful, and could therefore be repulsed. It now awaited re-inforcements, and two weeks later a large body of crusaders—"wolves of the forest," as the Jewish chronicler calls them—entered Worms. The Bishop Allebrandus could not, or would not, give the Jews sufficient protection. It seems, however, that he disapproved of the massacre of the Jews, for he sheltered a part of the community, probably its richest and most respected members, in the palace. The others, left to themselves, at first attempted to resist, but, overcome by numbers, they fell under the blows of their murderers, crying, "The Lord our God is one." Only a few submitted to baptism, but the greater number committed suicide. Women killed their tender babes. The fanatics destroyed the houses of the Jews, plundered their goods, and burnt the Scriptures found in the synagogues and houses (on Sunday, 23d Iyar—18th May). Seven days later those that had found protection in the bishop's palace were also attacked. The fanatics either made a raid on the palace, and demanded the surrender of their victims, or Allebrandus himself had offered to the Jews an asylum only in order to convert them through kindness. At any rate, the bishop informed the Jews that he would not shelter them any longer, unless they consented to be baptized. The chief amongst them begged for a short interval for consideration. The fanatics remained outside the palace, ready to lead the Jews to the font or to death. After the appointed time the bishop caused the door to be opened, and found the Jews in their own blood; they had preferred death at the hands of their brethren. On hearing this, the furious mob fell on the survivors, and murdered them, dragging the corpses through the streets. Only a few saved themselves by ostensible conversion to Christianity (Sunday, 1st Sivan—25th May). A youth, Simcha Cohen, whose father and seven brothers had been murdered, desired to avenge himself. He was taken to the church, and when about to receive the sacrament he drew forth a knife, and stabbed the nephew of the bishop. As he had expected, he was murdered in the church. It was only when the crusaders had left the town that the Jewish martyrs, who numbered nearly 800, were buried by Jewish hands. The congregation, which was formed later on, cherished their memory as of martyrs, or saints (Kedoshim), to be venerated and held up as patterns of steadfast faith.
The day after the massacre of the remnant in Worms, the crusaders arrived in Mayence. Here their leader was a Count Emmerich, or Emicho, of Leiningen, a close relation of Archbishop Ruthard, an unprincipled, bloodthirsty man. He desired the riches of the Jews of Mayence as much as their blood, and together with the archbishop, an opponent of Henry IV, devised a fiendish plan of extermination. The archbishop invited all the Jews to take shelter in his palace, until the danger had passed. Over 1300 Jews took refuge in the cellars of the building, with anxious hearts and prayers on their lips. But at break of day (Tuesday, Sivan 3d—27th May), Emmerich of Leiningen led the crusaders to the bishop's palace, and demanded the surrender of the Jews. The archbishop had indeed appointed a guard, but the soldiers refused to bear arms against the fanatical pilgrims, who easily penetrated into the palace, and the terrible scene of Worms was repeated. Men, young and old, women and children, fell by the sword of their brethren or their foes. The corpses of thirteen hundred martyrs were eventually conveyed from the palace. The treasures of the Jews were divided between the archbishop and Emmerich. Ruthard had kept sixty Jews hidden in the church, and they were conveyed to the Rhine district; but on the way they also were seized and murdered. Only a few were baptized; two men and two girls—Uriah and Isaac, with his two daughters—were induced by fear to accept baptism, but their repentance drove them to a terrible act of heroism. Isaac killed his two daughters on the eve of Pentecost, in his own house, and then set fire to the dwelling; then he and his friend Uriah went to the synagogue, set fire to it, and died in the flames. A great part of Mayence was destroyed by this fire.
Meanwhile, crusaders, under Hermann the Carpenter, assembled at Cologne on the eve of Pentecost. The members of this oldest congregation of Germany prepared for the worst; but they entreated the protection of the citizens and the bishop. Touched with pity for their Jewish fellow-citizens, humane burghers of Cologne received the Jews into their houses. When the furious mob, at break of day on Pentecost (Friday, May 30th), entered the houses of the Jews, they found them empty, and had to spend their fury on stones and wood. They destroyed the dwellings, pillaging the contents and crushing the scrolls of the Law on the very day when the giving of the Law was celebrated. An earthquake which occurred on the day incited the madmen to fresh fury; they considered it as a sign of heaven's approval. One man and his wife fell victims to their rage on this day. The pious man, Mar-Isaac, willingly accepted a martyr's death. He did not desire to escape, and remained in his house, engaged in prayer. He was dragged to the church, and spitting on the crucifix that was held up before him, was killed. The rest of the Jews of Cologne remained unhurt in the houses of the citizens and in the bishop's palace. The noble bishop, Hermann III, whose name deserves to be immortalized, assisted the Jews to depart secretly from the city, and to be safely housed in seven neighboring towns and villages belonging to his diocese. Here they passed three weeks in anxiety, praying and fasting day after day, and when they heard that the pilgrims had come to Neus, one of their cities of refuge, for the feast of St. John (1st Tamuz, 24th June), they fasted on two days in succession. The pilgrims had prepared themselves for renewed massacres by a mass on the day of St. John, and killed all the Jews who had taken refuge in Neus, according to one authority, not indeed very reliable, two hundred in number. One Samuel ben Asher, who had exhorted his brethren to remain firm, and his two sons, were brutally murdered, and their bodies hung to the door of their house.
The pilgrims had at last discovered the refuge of the Jews of Cologne, and now hunted them out of their hiding-places. Many ended their lives in the lakes and bogs, following the example of Samuel ben Yechiel, a learned and pious man. Standing in the water, and pronouncing a blessing, he killed his son, a handsome and strong youth, and as the victim said "Amen," all those looking on intoned their "Hear, O Israel," and threw themselves into the water.
The pilgrims continued their work of destruction, and in two months (May-July) twelve thousand Jews are said to have been killed in the Rhenish towns. The rest outwardly accepted Christianity, in the expectation that the just emperor, on his return from Italy, would listen to their complaints. Wherever the savage pilgrims met with Jews the tragic scenes were repeated. The large community of the town of Ratisbon suffered greatly. In connection with the crusades the Jews of Bohemia enter into history; until then they had not felt the pressure of the yoke, Christianity not having as yet attained to power in Slavonic countries. Many amongst them were wealthy, and occupied themselves in the slave-trade, chiefly dealing in Slavs, who were exported to the west of Europe and to Spain. In this way the Jews came into conflict with the priesthood, and Bishop Adalbert of Prague strove against this practice, and collected large sums of money in order to buy the slaves from the Jews. Then the crusades commenced, and transplanted into Bohemian soil the poisonous seed of fanaticism. When the crusaders traversed Bohemia, its powerful duke, Wratislaw II, was occupied in a foreign war, and could do nothing to stem the evil. The miscreant crusaders were, therefore, at liberty to gratify their fanaticism, and drag off the Jews of Prague to baptism or death. Bishop Cosmas preached in vain against such excesses; the crusaders understood Christianity better than the prince of the Church.
Fortunately for the Jews of western Europe, and especially of Germany, those filled with this bloodthirsty fanaticism were the mere scum of the people. The princes and citizens were horrified at such deeds of crime, and the higher priesthood, with the exception of Archbishops Ruthard of Mayence and Egilbert of Treves, were on the side of the Jews. The time had not yet arrived when the three powers—the nobility, priesthood, and people—were united in their hatred and persecution of the Jews. When the news came that 200,000 crusaders, under Emmerich and Hermann, had met with a disgraceful end—most of them having been killed in Hungary, whilst a miserable remnant only had returned to Germany—both Jews and Christians felt it to be a judgment of God. Meanwhile Emperor Henry IV had returned from Italy, and at the news of the atrocities perpetrated against the Jews by the crusaders, he gave public expression to his horror, and at the request of the head of the congregation of Speyer, Moses ben Guthiel, he permitted those that had been forcibly baptized to return to Judaism. This was a gleam of joy for the Jews of Germany. The converts did not fail to make use of their liberty to throw off the mask of Christianity (1097). The representatives of the Church, however, were by no means pleased at this proceeding. Even Pope Clement III, who was upheld by the emperor, declaimed against his humanity, which was contrary to the teachings of the Church. "We have heard," he wrote to Henry IV, "that the baptized Jews have been permitted to leave the Church. This is unexampled and sinful; and we demand of all our brethren that they take care that the sacrament of the Church be not desecrated by the Jews." The emperor cared but little about the unholy zeal of the priesthood. Far from forbidding the Jews to return to their religion, he even permitted proceedings to be instituted against the kinsmen of Archbishop Ruthard, of Mayence, on account of the theft of the property of the Jewish congregation. The Jews of Mayence in a petition had informed the emperor that Emmerich of Leiningen and his kinsmen, together with the archbishop, had appropriated the treasures deposited by the Jews in the archbishop's palace. None of the accused appeared in answer to this citation to defend himself. Ruthard, whose conscience was not clear, feared the disgrace of exposure, and, as he was in disfavor with the emperor, he fled to Erfurt. Thereupon the emperor confiscated the revenues of the archbishopric (1098). Ruthard revenged himself by joining the enemies of the emperor, who plotted to humiliate him.
The Jews of Bohemia were very unfortunate in this year. Hearing that the emperor had permitted return to Judaism, they abandoned their pretended faith, but feared to remain in a country where they could not obtain justice. They gathered together their property and possessions in order to send them on to a place of safety, and determined to emigrate to Poland or to Pannonia (Austria and Hungary). Wratislaw, the ruler of Bohemia, now returned from his campaign, and heard that the Jews intended sending their riches out of the country. Thereupon he placed them under military surveillance. The elders were called together, and the duke's treasurer announced to them in his lord's name that everything they possessed belonged to him, and that they were endeavoring to rob him: "Ye brought none of Jerusalem's treasures to Bohemia. Conquered by Vespasian, and sold for a mere nothing, ye have been scattered over the globe. Naked ye have entered the land, and naked ye can depart. For your secession from the Church, Bishop Cosmas may judge you." There was nothing to be said against this logic; it was the argument of brutality. The Bohemian Jews were plundered, only enough being left to them to stay for the moment the cravings of hunger. With malicious pleasure a contemporary chronicler relates that the Jews were despoiled of more gold than the Greeks had taken from Troy. Still more dreadful was the fate of the Jews of Jerusalem. When the crusading army, under Godfrey of Bouillon, after many attempts had taken the city by storm, and massacred the Mahometans, they drove the Jews, Rabbanites and Karaites, into a synagogue, set fire to it, and burnt all within its walls (July 15, 1099).
Emperor Henry, however, seriously desired to protect the Jews of his empire. Having heard of the horrible scenes of murder in Mayence which had occurred during his absence, he caused his princes and citizens to swear an oath that they would keep the peace with the Jews, and that they would not ill-treat them (1103). The protection thus granted by the emperor to the Jews was of temporary benefit to them, but brought evil results after awhile. They thus became dependent upon the ruler of the land, almost his slaves.
This circumstance was not the only evil result of the first crusade for the German Jews. On the one hand Pope Clement III claimed the converts who had joined the Church to save themselves from death, forgetting that their whole being turned against the Church, and that they regarded their enforced Christianity with contempt and hate. On the other hand, those that had remained Jews kept aloof from the renegades, and would not intermarry nor associate with them, although they had shown their attachment to Judaism by a prompt return to it. These unhappy people were thus regarded as renegades by both sides. When, however, Rashi heard of this narrowness, his true piety protested against it. "Far be it from us," he said, "to reject those that have returned. They acted through fear of the sword, and lost no time in returning to Judaism."
Other results of the first crusade were still worse. The German Jews, already inclined to extravagant piety, became yet more bigoted in consequence of their unexampled sufferings. All merriment died out amongst them, and they clothed themselves only in sackcloth and ashes. Though they hated the Catholic Church, they adopted its custom of visiting the graves of martyrs, whom they also called saints (Kedoshim), offered up prayers for the dead, and entreated their intercession with heaven. The Judaism of Germany from that time on assumed a gloomy aspect. The so-called poets, in their penitential prayers and lamentations, rang the changes on only one theme, the fearful troubles and the desolation of Israel. The study of the Talmud formed a counterpoise to the growing tendency of the German Jews to give a penitential character to their religion. This study, as pursued by Rashi, was a protection against unthinking, brooding monasticism. He who desired to find his way through the intricate mazes of the Talmud had to keep his eyes open to facts, and could not permit his mind to grow rusty. The study of the Talmud became balm for the wounds inflicted by the crusading mob on the communities of the Rhine district. The pleasure resulting from creative thought ruled in the schools, and subdued sorrow and despair; and the House of Learning became the refuge of the unfortunate oppressed. The two men who gave the great impulse to Talmudical studies died at the commencement of the twelfth century. They were Isaac Alfassi (died 1103), and Rashi, who died two years later (1105, 29th Tamuz—13th July). Both left a large number of disciples, who spread the study of the Talmud, and both were highly honored by their contemporaries and by posterity. The admiration of the Spaniards for Alfassi was expressed, as befitted their high culture, in verses, whilst the German Jews and those of northern France, who occupied a lower stage of culture, commemorated Rashi by extravagant legends. Two young poets, Moses Ibn-Ezra and Jehuda Halevi, composed touching elegies on the death of Alfassi.
The Jews under the Almoravides—Joseph Ibn-Sahal, Joseph Ibn-Zadik—Joseph Ibn-Migash—The Poets Ibn-Giat, Ibn-Abbas, Ibn-Sakbel and Ibn-Ezra—Abulhassan Jehuda Halevi—His Poems and Philosophy—The Chozari—Incidents of his Life—Prince Samuel Almansur—Jehuda Halevi's Pilgrimage to Jerusalem—His Death.
1105–1148 C. E.
The Jews of Spain, even those of Andalusia, could still consider this land of culture as their home. Even under the barbarous Almoravides, who had become masters of the south, they lived in security and peace, for these people were no fanatics. Only on one occasion did a prince of the Almoravides, named Yussuf Ibn-Teshufin, attempt to compel the Jews of his district to accept Islam. He was traveling through Lucena, and noted the populous Jewish community, which through Alfassi had become the most influential in Spain. The prince called together the representatives of the Jews, and announced to them that he had read that Mahomet had bestowed religious liberty on the Jews on condition that their expected Messiah should arrive within 500 years, and that if this space of time after the Hejira passed without his appearance, the Jews must, without opposition, accept Mahometanism; that the Jews of Mahomet's age had accepted the condition, and the time having now elapsed, he (Yussuf Ibn-Teshufin), the leader of the Faithful, expected them to fulfil the condition, or his protection would be withdrawn from them, and they would be outlawed. The Jews of Lucena, however, by gifts of money and through the intercession of his wise vizir, Abdallah Ibn-Allah, induced Yussuf to alter his intention.
Under the second ruler of the Almoravide dynasty, Ali (1106–1143), the Jews not only lived in peace, but some of them were entrusted with the collection of the poll-tax from Jewish and Christian inhabitants, and distinguished men received posts of honor at the court. Science and poetry were the qualifications for high dignities. A Jewish physician and poet, Abu Ayub (Solomon Ibn-Almuallem), of Seville, was the court-physician of the Caliph Ali, and bore the titles of prince and vizir. Alcharizi says that his verses rendered eloquent the lips of the dumb, and illuminated the eyes of the blind. The physician Abulhassan Abraham ben Meïr Ibn-Kamnial, of Saragossa, likewise occupied a high post at Ali's court, and also bore the title of vizir. The greatest poets of the time celebrated his nobility of soul, his generosity and his interest in the welfare of his co-religionists: "A prince who treads the earth, but whose aim is in the stars. He hastens like the lightning to do good, whilst others only creep along. The gates of his generosity are open to his compatriots and to strangers. Through his fortune he saved those doomed to death, and rescued the lives of those doomed to destruction. The prince (Ibn-Kamnial) is a protection and a guard unto his people; he dwells in Spain, but his loving-kindness reaches unto Babylon and Egypt." Abu Ishak Ibn-Mohajar also bore the title of vizir, and was similarly immortalized by the poets. The prince Solomon Ibn-Farussal, likewise praised by his contemporaries, appears to have been in the service of a Christian prince, and was entrusted with an embassy to the court of Murcia. Shortly before the battle of Ucles, at which the Mahometan forces obtained a signal victory over those of the Christians, Ibn-Farussal was murdered (1108, 20th Iyar—2nd May). The young Jehuda Halevi, who had composed a song of praise for the reception of the vizir, had to change it into an elegy on the mournful news of the vizir's murder.
An astronomical writer, Abraham ben Chiya Albargeloni (b. 1065, d. 1136), occupied a high position under another Mahometan prince. He was a sort of minister of police (Zachib as-Schorta), and bore the title of prince. He was held in high consideration by several rulers on account of his astronomical knowledge, and he debated with learned priests, to whom he demonstrated the accuracy of the Jewish calendar. But he also practised the pseudo-science of astrology, and drew a horoscope of favorable and unfavorable hours of the day. He calculated in the same way that the Messiah would appear in the year 5118 of the world (1358 C. E.).
Thus men of influence and knowledge were not wanting at this period in Spain, but none of them acted as a center, like Chasdaï Ibn-Shaprut and Samuel Ibn-Nagrela, from which might go forth the impetus that would rouse to activity slumbering talents, or mark out the road for literary efforts. The first half of the twelfth century produced a vast number of clever men in Jewish circles, poets, philosophers, Talmudists, and almost all their labors bore the stamp of perfection. The Jewish culture of this period resembled a garden, rich in odorous blossoms and luscious fruits, whose productions, though varied in color and taste, have their root in the same earth. The petty jealousy that rendered Menachem ben Saruk and Ibn-Gebirol unhappy, the inimical feelings existing between Ibn-Janach and Samuel Ibn-Nagrela, between Alfassi and Ibn-Albalia, were banished from this circle. The poets eulogized each other, and cordially praised the men that devoted their powers to other intellectual work. They took the greatest interest in one another's successes, consoled one another in misfortune, and regarded one another as members of one family. The cordial feeling which Jewish poets and men of learning entertained for one another is the completest testimony to their nobility of mind.
It is difficult in a history of these times to record and describe all the important personages. There were seven distinguished rabbis in this period, almost all disciples of Alfassi, who, besides studying Talmud, showed taste for poetry and science, and in part devoted themselves to these pursuits. In Cordova, Joseph ben Jacob Ibn-Sahal (born 1070, died 1124), a disciple of Ibn-Giat, was the rabbi. He appears to have met with trouble in his youth, and in his verses he complains that his own efforts have lacked appreciation, and that poetry in general is not honored. To Moses Ibn-Ezra, who was his bosom friend, he wrote a versified letter of lamentation. Ibn-Ezra, who also craved sympathy, consoled him in a poem written in the same rhyme and meter as Ibn-Sahal's. The verses are easy, flowing and smooth, though without much depth.
His successor in the rabbinate of Cordova, Abu-Amr Joseph ben Zadik Ibn-Zadik (born in 1080, died 1148–49), was even more celebrated. Although Ibn-Zadik is known as an expert Talmudist, his works are not Talmudic, but consist of philosophical treatises in the Arabic language. Ibn-Zadik dedicated his religio-philosophical work (Microcosmos) to a disciple who had asked to be instructed about the greatest good for which man can strive. The thoughts developed by Ibn-Zadik are by no means new, they were current in the Arabic philosophy of the times, but were modified by him so as to fit into the system of Judaism. Knowledge of self leads to knowledge of God, to a pure conception of the God-idea, and to the recognition that the world was created out of nothing by the divine will. This will is contained in Revelation, in the Torah; God revealed it to man, not on His own account, for He is rich, sufficient unto Himself, and without wants, but to promote man's happiness in the world beyond. The first duty of man, of the Jew, the servant of God, is to cultivate his mind and acquire wisdom and understanding, so that he may honor God in a worthy and spiritual manner, and gain the bliss of future happiness. Ibn-Zadik also remarks that the rites of Judaism, such as the observance of the Sabbath, are consonant with sense and divine wisdom. Man having free will, it is natural that God should mete out to him reward and punishment for his actions. The reward of the soul is its return to its source, the universal soul, and the only conceivable punishment is the sinful soul's failure to attain this end. The soul of the sinner, stained with earthly failings, cannot wing its flight to heaven, but flutters without rest about the world; and this is its punishment. Ibn-Zadik's philosophical work, bearing the stamp of mediocrity, was but little noticed by his contemporaries and successors. His fame as a poet was not great, although his liturgical and other verses are light and pleasing. They are not the outpourings of a poetic soul, but are to some extent a tribute to fashion.
Joseph ben Meïr Ibn-Migash Halevi (born 1077, died 1141) surpassed his contemporaries in mastery of the Talmud. Grandson of an important man at the court of the Abbadides in Seville, and son of a learned father, he became in his twelfth year a disciple of the school of Alfassi, whose lectures he attended uninterruptedly for fourteen years. When Ibn-Migash married (in 1100), Jehuda Halevi composed a glowing epithalamium for the young couple. Before his death Alfassi chose him as his successor, and by that act showed the nobility of his character; for although he left behind him a learned son, he preferred as his successor his gifted disciple. The wisdom of choosing a young man of six-and-twenty seems to have been questioned by some of the members of the congregation (Sivan, May, 1103). Joseph Ibn-Migash deserved the praise lavished on him for his intellectual and moral qualities. His descent from an ancient and noble family, his high position as chief of the most respected community, did not affect his modesty, nor did the dignity of his important office strip him of his humility. Mild, however, as was his character, he employed the utmost severity when the welfare of Judaism was in question.
Spain was at this time in an excited state, and split up into parties. In Andalusia the native Arabs were opposed to the victorious Almoravide Berbers, and they attacked each other in secret and in open war; the Christians (the Mozarabs) settled in the neighborhood of Granada conspired secretly against their Mahometan landlords, and summoning the conqueror of Saragossa, Alfonso of Aragon, promised to hand Granada over to him. Christian Spain was no less divided, though Castile and Aragon ought to have been united through the marriage of Alfonso of Aragon and Urraca, Queen of Castile. This unhappy marriage was the cause of anarchy. One party sided with the king, another with the queen, and a third with the young prince Alfonso VII, whose teacher had incited him against his mother and stepfather. Christians and Mahometans were frequently seen fighting under one standard, sometimes against a Christian prince, sometimes against a Mahometan emir. The making and breaking of treaties followed each other in quick succession. Deception and treachery occurred continually, and even the clergy of high position passed from party to party, and fought their former allies, or assisted their former enemies.
The Jews of Spain did not remain neutral, and either willingly or perforce joined the one or the other party, as their interests or political opinions dictated. When Mahometans or Christians conspired, they could, in case of discovery, take refuge with their powerful co-religionists. The Jews, however, did not enjoy such protection, and could only hold together for safety. Treachery in their midst was, therefore, most disastrous for them, as the anger of the enraged rulers not only struck the conspirators or their congregation, but the entire Jewish population of the country. When, therefore, a member of the congregation of Lucena on one occasion threatened to betray his co-religionists, the rabbi and judge, Joseph Ibn-Migash, determined to make an example of him. He condemned the traitor to be stoned to death at twilight on the Day of Atonement. Joseph Ibn-Migash left a learned son, Meïr (1144), and a large circle of disciples, amongst whom was Maimun of Cordova, whose son was destined to begin a new era in Jewish history.
In the measure in which the study of the Talmud in Spain grew, Bible exegesis and the study of Hebrew grammar declined. These branches were arrested in their development. But on the other hand, this period was rich in poets. The Hebrew language, during the two centuries since Ben-Labrat, had become smooth and pliable, so that it was no difficult matter to make verses, and employ rhyme and meter. The involved forms developed especially by Solomon Ibn-Gebirol found many imitators. The Arabic custom of writing letters of friendship in verses, adopted by the Spanish Jews, made a knowledge of prosody a necessity: he who did not desire to appear illiterate had to learn how to versify. The number of poems which at this period saw the light of day was legion. Amongst poets worthy of record, who also occupied themselves with matters other than poetry, were Judah Ibn-Giat, Judah Ibn-Abbas, Solomon Ibn-Sakbel, and the brothers Ibn-Ezra. They were all surpassed by the prince of poets, Jehuda Halevi, recognized even by his contemporaries as a master of song.
Solomon ben Sakbel, a relative of Rabbi Joseph Ibn-Sahal, unlike Ibn-Giat and Ibn-Abbas, whose muse was serious, used the Hebrew language for light love-verses. The new form of poetry introduced by the Arabic poet, Hariri of Basra, induced Ibn-Sakbel to make a similar attempt in the Hebrew language; he wrote a kind of satirical romance, called Tachkemoni, the hero of which, Asher ben Jehuda, is exposed to disappointments and vicissitudes. The hero tells his adventures in rhymed prose, interspersed with verses; he relates how, together with his love, he had passed a long time in the forest depths, until, tired of the monotony, he longed to join a circle of friends who passed their time in feasting. Attracted by the letter of some unknown fair one, he set out to find her, and was introduced into a harem, the master of which, with grim "Berber mien," threatened him with death. This, however, was only a mask assumed by the maid of his lady-love in order to frighten him. At length he had hopes of attaining his end, but when he meets the supposed mistress, he finds the entire affair to have been the joke of a friend. This poem has no artistic merit, and is only an imitation of his Arab model. The ease with which Ibn-Sakbel employs the Hebrew language, and the skill with which he combines profoundly serious reflections with the lightest banter, are the only features to be admired.
The four brothers Ibn-Ezra, of Granada, were richly endowed; they were noble, learned, and wealthy. Their names were Abu-Ibrahim Isaac, Abu-Harun Moses, Abulhassan Jehuda, and Abuhajaj Joseph, the youngest. Their father Jacob had occupied an office under King Habus, or rather under his vizir, Ibn-Nagrela. One might know by their noble character, said a contemporary historian, that these four princely sons of Ibn-Ezra were of David's blood and of ancient lineage. The most celebrated amongst them was Abu-Harun Moses (born 1070, died 1139), who boasted that he was the pupil of his eldest brother. He was the most prolific poet of his time.
A misfortune seems to have aroused his muse. He loved his niece, by whom he was loved in return. The brother, however, refused to give him his daughter, and the other brothers approved the decision. Moses fled from his father's house, and wandered to Portugal and Castile (1100). He was tortured by pangs of love, and time did not heal his wounds. False friends seem to have widened the breach between him and his brothers. His love found expression in verses, and the muse became his comforter. He sought to drown his sorrow in earnest study and to find in knowledge a solace for the loss of his brothers and his beloved. He indeed won friends and admirers who remained true to him until death. A man of high position in Christian Spain, who is represented as a benefactor of the Jews, took an interest in the unhappy Moses, on whom he bestowed his friendship. Moses Ibn-Ezra in many respects resembled Solomon Ibn-Gebirol. He also complained of deception and jealousy and of the hardships and faithlessness of the times. Like the poet of Malaga, his own emotions inspire him; there is no great aim in his poetic effusions. But Moses Ibn-Ezra was neither so tender nor so impressionable as Ibn-Gebirol, nor was he so sad or complaining, but at times sang lively songs, and dallied with the muse. He was far behind Ibn-Gebirol as a poet. His poetry was labored and stilted, his verses often hard, without sweetness and freshness, and neither rhythmical nor harmonious. Moses Ibn-Ezra was especially fond of using words of the same sound, with different and often opposite meaning, a habit which he had adopted from the Arabic poets. His command of the Hebrew language, the abundance of his poetical works, and the variety of meters with which he enriched Hebrew poetry are alike admirable. He composed a song-cycle, which he called a string of pearls, composed of 1210 verses in ten divisions; they were dedicated to his patron Ibn-Kamnial. These verses are as varied in form as in contents. The poet in this collection alternately sings the praise of wine, love, and joy, of voluptuous life amidst leafy bowers and the song of birds, complains of the separation from friends, of faithlessness and the approach of old age, incidentally recommends trust in God, and lastly, praises the art of poetry. Moses Ibn-Ezra also composed three hundred poems, in more than ten thousand verses, for special occasions, and also two hundred prayers for New Year and the Day of Atonement, portions of which were incorporated in the ritual of many congregations (of the communities of Spain, Montpellier, Avignon, and of the Romagnoles). But few of his religious poems have true poetic fervor; they are all composed according to the rules of the art, but true beauty is wanting. Moses Ibn-Ezra wrote, in Arabic, a dissertation on the rules of the poetic art, called "Conversations and Recollections," which at the same time is a sort of history of Spanish-Jewish poetry from its first beginnings. This work, dealing also with Arabic and Castilian poetry, is a treasure for the literary history of Spain. The poorest work of Moses Ibn-Ezra is his so-called philosophical treatise, written in Hebrew, wherein he expounds the barren philosophy of the times according to Arabic models.
Notwithstanding his comparative insignificance as a philosopher and his mediocrity as a poet, Moses Ibn-Ezra was held in high honor by his contemporaries on account of his facility in writing. He stood on a friendly footing with all important personages of the time, and they praised him in prose and verse, and he likewise praised them. He became reconciled to his brothers, when the love of his youth died in giving birth to a boy (1114). On her deathbed she spoke of him, and her words, which became a holy remembrance to him, inspired him to write an elegy which, imbued with true feeling, was far more poetical than his other works. This elegy Moses Ibn-Ezra sent to his eldest brother, and it was the first step toward their reconciliation. As his brothers departed this earth one by one, the survivor was overwhelmed with grief, and dedicated to their memory verses full of feeling. Moses Ibn-Ezra retained his poetic gift until a great age. Jehuda Halevi wrote a touching tribute to his memory.
The brilliant luminary of this period and its chief exponent was Abulhassan Jehuda ben Samuel Halevi (Ibn-Allevi), born in Old Castile in 1086. In the annals of mankind his name deserves a separate page with a golden border. To describe him worthily, history would need to borrow from poetry her most glowing colors and her sweetest tones. Jehuda Halevi was one of the chosen, to whom the expression, "an image of God," may be applied without exaggeration. He was a perfect poet, a perfect thinker, a worthy son of Judaism, which, through his poetry and thought, was ennobled and idealized.
When Spain shall have discarded its prejudices, and shall no longer estimate the greatness of its historical personages by the standard of the Church, then Jehuda Halevi will occupy a place of honor in its Pantheon. The Jewish nation has long since crowned him with the laurel-wreath of poetry, and recognized the wealth of piety and pure morality that he possessed.
His deep moral earnestness was closely united with a cheerful, serene philosophy of life. The admiration which was showered upon him did not destroy his modesty, and despite his devotion to his friends, he still preserved his own peculiar characteristics and the independence of his views. His rich store of knowledge clustered about one center, and however great a poet, in the best sense of the word, he may have been, he was keenly conscious of his own feelings, thoughts, and actions. He prescribed rules for himself, and remained true to them. Deep as were his sentiments, he was far from excess of feeling, or sentimentality.
Jehuda Halevi's biography contains little that is extraordinary. Born in Christian Spain, he attended the college of Alfassi at Lucena, because Castile and the north of Spain were still wanting in Talmudical scholars. When but a youth, as in the case of Ibn-Gebirol, the muse aroused him; not, however, as the latter, with mournful tones, but with pure, joyous strains. He celebrated in song the happy experiences of his friends and comrades, the nuptials of Ibn-Migash, the birth of the first-born in the house of Baruch Ibn-Albalia (about 1100). Fortune smiled upon this favorite of the muses from his youth, and no harsh discord ever issued from his poetical heart. In the south of Spain he became acquainted with the noble and cultured family of Ibn-Ezra. When he learnt that Moses Ibn-Ezra had met with a disappointment in love, and had exiled himself, the young poet sought out his older brother-poet to comfort and soothe him with his songs. The latter, struck with surprise at Jehuda's beautiful verses and overflowing sentiments, answered him in poetic productions.
Jehuda Halevi appears to have been in Lucena when Alfassi died, and Joseph Ibn-Migash succeeded him in the office of rabbi (1103). On the occasion of his death Halevi composed a beautiful elegy, and celebrated the accession of his successor in a poem expressing his homage and deep respect. The young man also experienced the pleasure and the pain of love; he sang of the gazelle-like eyes of his beloved, her rosy lips, her raven hair. He complained of her unfaithfulness and of the wounds which rent his heart. His amatory poems breathe the fire of youth, and display rash impetuousness. The southern skies were portrayed in his verses, the green meadows and the blue streams. His early poetry even bears the stamp of artistic polish, of rich fancy and beautiful symmetry, of warmth and loveliness. There is no mere jingle of words, no thoughtless utterance—all manifests harmony and firmness of touch. Jehuda Halevi appears to have completely suppressed the pangs of love, for no traces whatever are to be found thereof in his later life and poems.
Jehuda Halevi not only completely mastered the Hebrew language and the artistic forms of the neo-Hebraic poetry, but he also obtained a thorough knowledge of the Talmud, studied the natural sciences, penetrated even to the depths of metaphysics, and was skilled in all branches of learning. He wrote Arabic elegantly, and was conversant with the new-born Castilian poetry. He obtained a livelihood as a physician, practising medicine on his return to his native place. He appears to have been highly esteemed for his medical skill, for on one occasion he wrote to a friend that, living in a large town, he was busily engaged in the practice of his art. But, in spite of his constant care for the bodies of the sick and the dying, he did not forget his own soul, but ever maintained the ideals of his life. The following letter which, when advanced in years (about 1130), he wrote to a friend, is interesting:
"I occupy myself in the hours which belong neither to the day nor to the night, with the vanity of medical science, although I am unable to heal. The city in which I dwell is large, the inhabitants are giants, but they are cruel rulers. Wherewith could I conciliate them better than by spending my days in curing their illness! I physic Babel, but it continues infirm. I cry to God that He may quickly send deliverance unto me, and give me freedom, to enjoy rest, that I may repair to some place of living knowledge, to the fountain of wisdom."
The city of which Jehuda here speaks is Toledo, where he passed the years of his manhood. He longed, however, to depart thence, as Toledo had not yet become a center of Jewish learning.
The whole power of his creative genius was bestowed upon the art of poetry and a thoughtful investigation of Judaism. He had a more correct conception of poetry, which he valued as something holy and God-given, than had his Arab and Jewish contemporaries. He distinctly enunciated the view that the faculty for composing poetry must be innate, original, not acquired. He mocked at those who laid down laws about meter and rhyme, and were very precise on those points. The truly inspired poet carries the laws within him, and will never be guilty of any blunders or inaccuracies. As long as he was young, he dissipated the gold of his rich poetry on light, flimsy themes, and following the example of others, wrote sparkling lyrics, in which he glorified his numerous friends. He sang of wine and pleasure, and composed riddles. When his friends rebuked him for this conduct (about 1110), he retorted in youthful insolence,