Anticapitalism and the Emergence of Antisemitism. Stephanie Chasin
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walls to control the flow of people and good and London’s city walls, erected by the Romans, were secured by seven gates: Aldgate, Aldersgate, Bishopsgate, Cripplegate, Ludgate, Moorgate, and Newgate. Street names reflected the goods sold: Cheapside and East Cheap (the name came from the Saxon word “chepe” meaning market), Poultry, Cornhill, Old Fish Street, Ermine Street, Honey Lane, and Milk Street. Two miles outside of the city, the palace of Westminster sat on the banks of the River Thames. Just outside the city walls, between Fleet Street and the River Thames, stood the New Temple, the English headquarters of the Knights Templars (the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, to give them their full title), which served as the royal treasury during the reign of King John and where the wealthy deposited their money for safekeeping. To the north lay fields and meadows through which ran streams. Beyond the pastures, there was a great forest full of wild animals and thick foliage. The attractions of this bustling city went unappreciated by Richard of Devizes, a monk at Winchester. He objected to London as a place of “actors, jesters, smooth-skinned lads, Moors, flatterers, pretty boys, effeminates, pederasts, singing and dancing girls, quacks, belly-dancers, soceresses, extortioners, night-wanderers, magicians, mimes, beggars, buffoon.” His advice? “Do not live in London.”9
If Richard’s description was only a little correct, it is not surprising that Jews gathered in their own communities. We regard ghettoism today as a problem to be eradicated but the medieval world built on hierarchy, with the monarch at the pinnacle, was far removed from modern ideals of integrated “race,” “ethnicity” or “class.” Such segregation was often a privilege that was sought; it was expected that each group would live, and want to live, in their own sectors of town. Old Jewry was situated in the shadow of the ancient Saxon royal palace with another Jewry situated close to the White Tower built in 1078, which would become the most inner ward of the Tower of London. Jews newly-arrived in the city gravitated towards these Jewries where it was easier for Jewish leaders to control and maintain Jewish traditions and religious law and prevent interaction with non-Jews that might lead to undesirable liasons or even apostasy. It also gave them protection, when necessary, against those who were hostile towards them. ←5 | 6→Despite efforts by the most orthodox to keep the Jewish community isolated, however, interaction was common in the markets, in the streets, and in private homes. This was especially true for those who were involved in business and those who were less inclined toward strict religious observance. Soon Jews ventured to other market towns throughout England, settling in Oxford, Cambridge, York, Winchester, Lincoln, and Norwich. They preferred towns with mints, which suggests that they may have handled coinage for the Crown.10
Many of these Jews traded precious metals, which were in high demand from the eleventh century as gold and silver mining was revitalized, along with other commodities such as copper, tin, and alum, which was used to bind dye to cloth. As competition increased in these trades, the Jews in England began to narrow their professions and specialize in moneychanging and usury, although people at this time rarely stuck to one trade and most of these early bankers also worked as merchants, mint workers, and goldsmiths. As moneychangers, they calculated the values of the different currencies in circulation and, as moneylenders they lent capital at variable rates of interest. Their capital was a service, a product, to be sold like any other. Yet, the addition of an interest rate onto the principal loan amount made the transaction usurious. The practice of accepting valuable items as collateral, if the loan was large, or as insurance against default, if the sum was small, set some Jews up in pawnbroking. By the end of the twelfth century, pawnbroking, like usury itself, had become synonymous with Jews.11
To most people in the twelfth century, and for centuries after, this form of profit was wickedly immoral. Those who were against usury did not necessarily believe that money was immoral in and of itself nor was all profit considered illegitimate. Clerics such as Thomas, the rector of Chobham (c.1160–c.1236), Alexander of Hales (1185–1245), and Peter Olivi (1248–1298) took into account risk and uncertainty as well as theft, fire and other possible losses a merchant might encounter. Wealth could be put to good use, for the betterment of the common weal and the poor, or it could be put to ill use. It could aid those in need, or it could drive people to greed, corruption, and all sorts of deviancy. If used unjustly, riches were antithetical to piety, the twelfth-century Parisian theologian Peter Comestor asserted. This stood in opposition to caritas, or charity, which was deemed to be the love of God as expressed through the love of oneself and one’s neighbors. The centrality of the poor (however they were defined) and mercy (from the Latin misericordia meaning “poor heart”) in Christian theology was in place by the fifth century and molded this twelfth-century virtue of charity. For the archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton (c.1150–1228) faith and charity were interwoven and it was a traditional view that the rich had an obligation to help the poor. For ←6 | 7→most religions, and for most people to this day, caring little about material goods is indicative of the truly spiritual. Renunciation of all material wealth had once been the mark of the virtuous, and it remained the pinnacle of sanctity. But by the late medieval period, it was sufficient for the rich to give up only as much of their wealth to fulfil their societal obligation but still retain enough to maintain their social standing. Charity not only benefited the recipient of that act of altruism, it was also morally beneficial to the giver, rewarding men and women with salvation in the World to Come. It was the source of virtue for the individual and society. That meant surplus goods should be distributed to those in need and money should be lent freely without interest for the common good.12
By demanding a profit off a loan, the usurer was committing a sin against caritas, according to the Church. A neighbor in need should be helped without the expectation of financial gain. Whether it involved simple or compound interest, usury was therefore inherently extortive, exploitative, and deceitful. Money was said to be conjured up “in the shadowy realm of usury, an unnatural vice.” It was “an instrument of exchange that [had,] devil-like, magical powers of luring people and then corrupting them.” It stood to reason, from this perspective, that if person A made money off a loan it was inevitably at the expense of person B, the borrower. A virtuous authority was therefore obliged to protect person B from the exploitative and sinister business dealings of person A.13
That assessment was not new as usurers had long been criminalized and its association with Jews stretched back to ancient times. In antiquity, Aristotle had denounced usury because he regarded money to be “barren” and unable to breed. It was therefore “unnatural” for money to beget money. In addition to agreeing with Aristotle’s misgivings, medieval theologians objected to usury on biblical grounds. One vague comment by Luke, that said a person should not lend expecting more in return, was bolstered by many admonitions in the Hebrew Bible about the evils of usury. Jews were not to engage in moneylending, except with “strangers.” So while Christians interpreted the text to mean usury was forbidden to all Christians, Jews censured usury only between Jews and not between Jews and non-Jews, so long as the Jew was the creditor. In practise, however, Jews were not only creditors but borrowers, too, from both Jews and Christians.14
The connection between Jews and moneylending was notable in the early Church. To the fourth-century archbishop of Constantinople John Chrysostom, moneylenders and Jews were synonymous, and he denounced them as plundering, covetous thieves who cheated in trade. He also complained about the aristocrats “jacking up of prices,” and decorating their villas than doing “anything with some sense in it.” The influential fifth-century Syrian bishop, Theodoretos of Kyross, ←7 | 8→accused Jewish moneylenders of accumulating wealth at the expense of Christians while Isaac of Antioch cautioned Christians not to imitate the Jews who “fast, and devour profits … pray, and absorb the usurers … and devour the flesh of the poor.” To such critics, making a profit off moneylending was simply financial exploitation; whether the particular transaction was amicable and