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.
[CHAPTER XI.]
ZENITH OF THE SPANISH-JEWISH CULTURE: JEHUDA HALEVI.
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.