Under the disguise of Moslems, the Maghreb Jewish scholars even pursued the study of the Talmud with their usual zeal, and assembled at their colleges the studious youth, who at the same time were compelled to engage in the study of the Koran. But truly conscientious and pious men were unable to play this double part for any length of time. They threw off the hateful mask, and openly professing Judaism, suffered martyrdom, as happened in Fez, Segelmessa, Draï and other towns.
The victorious Abdulmumen was not content with the possession of all Barbary; he cast longing eyes upon the fair land of Andalusia, thinking it an easy task to wrest it from the power of the Almoravide and Christian rulers, and annex it to his realm. The conquest of the Mahometan territory in southern Spain proved easy on account of internal dissensions. Cordova, the capital of Andalusia, fell into the power of the fanatical Almohades in June, 1148, and before the end of a year the greater part of Andalusia was in their hands. The beautiful synagogues which the piety, the love of splendor, and the refined taste of the Andalusian Jews had built, fell a prey to the destructive frenzy of fanaticism. The aged rabbi of Cordova, the philosopher Joseph Ibn-Zadik, witnessed this sad downfall of the oldest and most distinguished congregation, but died soon after (at the end of 1148 or the commencement of 1149). The renowned Jewish academies at Seville and Lucena were closed. Meïr, the son and successor of Joseph Ibn-Migash, went from Lucena to Toledo, and with him all those able to escape. The remainder followed the example of the African Jews, yielding for the moment to coercion and pretending to acknowledge Islam, though in private they observed their ancient faith, till they found an opportunity of openly professing Judaism. Women and children, together with the property of the exiles, fell into the hands of the conquerors, who treated feeble captives as slaves.
In this dark epoch, when the center of Judaism was destroyed, a favorable change of fortune created a new center. Christian Spain, which had developed great power under the emperor Alfonso Raimundez (1126–1157), became a refuge for the persecuted Andalusian Jews, and Toledo, which had been made the capital of the realm, became a new focus, whence the rays of Jewish science emanated. This favorable change was due to the work of a man who deserves to be ranked with Ibn-Shaprut and Ibn-Nagrela. The wise and philanthropic Emperor Alfonso Raimundez had a Jewish favorite in the person of the still youthful Jehuda Ibn-Ezra, the son of that Joseph Ibn-Ezra, who, together with his three brothers, is celebrated in Judæo-Spanish literature. On taking possession of the border fortress of Calatrava, between Toledo and Cordova (1146), the emperor, probably as a reward for his bravery, appointed Ibn-Ezra commander of the place, and invested him with the dignity of a prince (Nasi).
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra was the guardian-angel of his unfortunate co-religionists, who were fleeing before the fury of the victorious Almohades. He assisted them to find homes and employment in Christian Spain, and used his riches in ransoming captives, in clothing the naked and feeding the hungry. The congregation of Toledo was very much increased by the immigrant Jews. Meïr Ibn-Migash opened an academy for the study of the Talmud, and numerous pupils attended it. Jewish learning under the protection of the Christian king, now flourished in Toledo after its expulsion from the Mahometan kingdom.
Jehuda Ibn-Ezra rose still higher in the favor of the Spanish emperor, and was appointed steward of the imperial palace (about 1149). This Jewish prince, in his zeal for Rabbanism, hurried into a persecution which forms a blot on his fair fame. The Karaites who had settled in Christian Spain, and who towards the end of the eleventh century had suffered persecution at the hands of a Rabbanite, Joseph Al-Kabri, had since that time again become a numerous body, and strove to regain their ancient splendor. They brought the large literature of their Eastern and Egyptian leaders into Castile, and were thereby strengthened in their deep antipathy to Rabbinical Judaism. At this time a Karaite of Constantinople, Jehuda ben Elia Hadassi, who styled himself "a mourner for Zion" (ha-Abel), renewed the battle against the Rabbanites, and wrote a comprehensive book under the name of "Eshkol ha-Kofer," in which he discussed with great warmth the oft-disputed differences between the two Jewish schools (1149), and rekindled the flame of hostility. Jehuda Hadassi wrote with intense passion, but employed harsh language, alphabetical acrostics, and a wretched, monotonous rhyme. This hostile work was probably introduced into Castile, and re-opened the conflict. Instead of having this polemical book confuted by some able Rabbanite, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra called in the aid of the secular arm, and besought the permission of the emperor Alfonso to persecute the Karaites. He did not consider that the dormant fire of persecution, if once rekindled, would sooner or later blaze around the head of the persecutors. With the emperor's permission, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra humbled the Karaites so sorely that they were never again able to raise their heads. Their fate is not known, but they were probably banished from the towns wherein Rabbanites dwelt (1150–1157). The favorable condition of the Jews in Castile did not last long. After the death of the emperor and of his eldest son, the King of Castile (1158), Jehuda Ibn-Ezra lived to see troublous times. During the minority of the Infante Alfonso a bitter civil war broke out between the noble houses of De Castro and De Lara, in which the other Christian kings took part; the fair land was devastated, and the capital, Toledo, became the scene of bloody fights. The Christian monarchs were not powerful enough to defend their borders against the continual irruptions of the Almohades, and were obliged to leave this task to the fanatical orders of knights, which were now again called into active service. The Spanish Jews, unlike their German and French brethren, did not remain mere indifferent spectators during these political struggles and wars, but took the liveliest interest in all that was going on, joining one or the other of the opposing sides.
Meanwhile Jewish learning was in nowise impaired by the unfavorable conditions which existed in almost every land of the exile, but still took its place in the vanguard of culture. Two men, both from Toledo, added to its luster; these were Abraham Ibn-Daud and Abraham Ibn-Ezra, who, dissimilar in character, aims, and in their life's history, were yet alike in their love for Judaism and for learning. Abraham Ibn-Daud Halevi (born about 1110, died a martyr 1180), who was a descendant on the maternal side of Prince Isaac Ibn-Albalia, was not only well versed in the Talmud, but was also conversant with all the branches of learning then cultivated. He also engaged in the study of history, both Jewish and general, as far as in its neglected state during the Middle Ages it was accessible to him. This branch of learning was but lightly esteemed by the Spanish Jews. He was a physician, and was a diligent explorer of the realm of science. Ibn-Daud possessed an intelligent, clear mind, which enabled him to penetrate with precision into the knowable, and to illumine the obscure. With brilliant perspicuity he gave expression to the most difficult ideas, and made them comprehensible. He centered all his attention upon the highest problems of the human intellect, and was at a loss to conceive how any one could spend his life in trifling pursuits or in the study of philology, mathematics, theoretical medicine, or law, instead of directing his mind to the holiest task of life. This task, according to the view of Ibn-Daud, consists in philosophical study, because its object is the knowledge of God, and herein lies man's superiority over the world of created things. He emphasized this point strongly in opposition to a certain class of his co-religionists in Spain who had a positive dislike for philosophy. Ibn-Daud was well acquainted with the reason for their mistrust of independent research. "There are many in our time," he remarked, "who have dabbled a little in science, and who are not able to hold both lights, the light of belief in their right hand and the light of knowledge in their left. Since in such men the light of investigation has extinguished the light of belief, the multitude think it dangerous, and shrink from it. In Judaism, however, knowledge is a duty, and it is wrong to reject it."
The aim of all philosophical theory is the practical realization of moral ideals. Such ideals Judaism presents. None of his predecessors had so definitely and clearly expressed this important thought. Morality produces positive virtues, a healthy family life, and based upon this, a sound constitution of the state. According to this view, all the religious duties of Judaism may be divided into five classes. The first class inculcates the true knowledge and the love of the One God and a purified belief in Him. The second class treats especially of justice and conscientiousness, the chief of all virtues, of forgiveness, kindness, and the love of enemies, all of which have their origin in humility. The third class of precepts treats of the relation of the head of the family to his wife, children, and servants, according to the principles of right and affection. The fourth division, which comprises a large group, prescribes the relation of the citizen to the state and to his fellow-citizens; it inculcates the necessity of loving one's neighbor, of honesty in commerce, and care for the weak and suffering. There is, finally, a fifth class of laws, such as the sacrificial and dietary laws (laws of the ritual), whose purpose is not easily comprehended. These five groups of duties are not equal in importance, faith taking the highest position and the ceremonial laws the lowest, and therefore the prophets also often gave greater prominence to the former. Starting from different premises, Ibn-Daud arrived at a conclusion differing from that of Jehuda Halevi. According to the latter, the pure ritual ordinances constitute the essence of Judaism, whereby the prophetic nature of man is to be kept alive, but for Ibn-Daud they are only of second-rate importance.
Abraham Ibn-Daud was, however, not only a religious philosopher, but also a conscientious historian, and his historical labors have proved of greater service to Jewish literature than his philosophical studies. The newly-aroused conflict with the Karaites of Spain led him to inquire into their history. After the death of the emperor Alfonso, and the subsequent downfall of his favorite, Jehuda Ibn-Ezra, these people again raised their heads, and re-commenced issuing their polemical writings. Thereupon Ibn-Daud undertook to prove historically that rabbinical Judaism was based on an unbroken chain of traditions which began with Moses, and extended to Joseph Ibn-Migash. To this end he compiled the history of Biblical, post-exilic, Talmudical, Saburaic, Gaonic, and rabbinical times in a chronological order (1161). He entitled this work, which was written in Hebrew, "The Order of Tradition" (Seder ha-Kabbalah). The information which he imparts concerning the Spanish congregations is of the greatest value; he obtained his knowledge from the original labors of Samuel Ibn-Nagrela, and from independent historical researches. His account is brief, but accurate and authentic, and much may be read between the lines. His Hebrew style is flowing, and not altogether wanting in poetic coloring.
A still more erudite, comprehensive, and profound mind was that of Abraham ben Meïr Ibn-Ezra of Toledo (born about 1088, died 1167). He was a man of remarkable ability, conquering with equal skill the greatest and the smallest things in science; he was energetic, ingenious, full of wit, but lacking in warmth of feeling. His extensive reading in all branches of divine and human knowledge was astonishing; he was also thoroughly acquainted with the literature of the Karaites. His, however, was not a symmetrically developed, strong personality, but was full of contradictions, and given to frivolity; at one time he fought against the Karaites, at another, he made great concessions to them. His polemical method was merciless, and he aimed less at discovering the truth than at dealing a sharp blow to an antagonist. His was a spirit of negation, and he forms the completest contrast to Jehuda Halevi, to whom he is said to have been closely related. Ibn-Ezra (as he is called) combined in his person irreconcilable contrasts. His clear vision, his sharp, analytical perception, his bold research, which was so far advanced as almost to bring him to Pantheism, existed side by side with a veneration for authority, which led him, with fanatical ardor, to accuse independent thinkers of heresy. His temperate mind, which examined into the origin of every phenomenon, did not prevent him from wandering in the twilight of mysticism. Though filled with trust in God, into whose hands he quietly resigned his lot, he believed in the influence of the stars, from which no man could possibly withdraw. Thus Ibn-Ezra was at once an inexorable critic and a slave of the letter of the Law, a rationalist and a mystic, a deeply religious man, and an astrologer. These contradictions did not mark successive stages in his life, but they controlled the whole course of his existence. In his youth he toyed with the muses, sang the praises of distinguished persons, and feasted with Moses Ibn-Ezra. He was likewise acquainted with Jehuda Halevi; they often conversed brilliantly upon philosophical problems, and it is clear that they did not agree in their methods of thought.
Although Ibn-Ezra was acquainted with the artistic forms of Arabic and neo-Hebraic poetry, he was, nevertheless, no poet. His verses are artificial, pedantic, uninteresting, and devoid of feeling. His liturgical poetry, produced at all periods of his life, bears the same impress of sober contemplation. It consists of wise maxims or censorious admonitions; there is no outpouring of religious feelings which absorb the soul, and which characterize fervent prayer. In the religious poetry of Ibn-Ezra there is lacking what is so manifest in the compositions of Ibn-Gebirol and Jehuda Halevi; the spirit of sublime joyousness which expresses itself in inspired hymns, the exalted majesty which aspires to the highest, and attains it. He was, however, inimitable in wit and pointed epigrams, in riddles and satire. His prose is, moreover, exemplary, and it may even be said that he created it. He abstains from over-embellishment and empty phraseology.
Though Ibn-Ezra holds no high place in poetry, he is entitled to the first rank as a thorough expositor of the Holy Scriptures. As such, he displayed great tact, since he was guided by the strictly grammatical construing of the text. He was a born exegetist. He was able to bring to bear his wide knowledge and brilliant ideas upon the verses of Holy Writ without being compelled to connect them logically. His restless, inconstant mind was not capable of creating a complete and systematic whole. He had not the power of methodizing Hebrew philology, and of synoptically arranging his material. In Biblical exegesis, however, he was thoroughly original. He raised it to the degree of a science, with fixed principles, so that he was for a long time without a rival in this department of learning. It is worthy of remark, that he never felt called upon to cultivate the field of Biblical interpretation whilst at home, although he possessed most remarkable talent for this work. As long as he remained in Spain he was only known as a clever mathematician and astronomer, not as an exegete. In general, he produced nothing of a literary character in his native land, except perhaps some Hebrew poems of a religious or satirical character.
Ibn-Ezra was induced by straitened circumstances to leave the war-stricken and impoverished city of Toledo. He was never possessed of much wealth. In his epigrammatic way, he made merry over his misfortunes, which condemned him to poverty: "I strive to become wealthy, but the stars are opposed to me. If I were to engage in shroud-making, men would cease dying; or if I made candles, the sun would never set unto the hour of my death."
As he was unable to earn his livelihood at home, he started on his travels (about 1138–1139) accompanied by his adult son Isaac. He visited Africa, Egypt, and Palestine, and communed with the learned men of Tiberias, who prided themselves on the possession of carefully written copies of the Torah. As he could find no rest anywhere, he journeyed further, towards Babylonia, visiting the city of Bagdad, where a Prince of the Captivity, with the consent of the Caliph, again exercised a sort of supremacy over all Eastern congregations. During the course of this extensive journey, Ibn-Ezra made many careful observations, and enriched the vast stores of his mind.
It is difficult to understand why, on his turning homewards from the East, he did not again visit his native land. In Rome, he at length found the long-desired rest (1140). His appearance in Italy marks an epoch in the development of culture among the Italian Jews. Although they enjoyed freedom to such a degree that the Roman community was not bound to pay any taxes, the Jews of Italy still remained in a low condition of culture. They studied the Talmud in a mechanical, lifeless manner. They had no knowledge of Biblical exegesis, and neo-Hebraic poetry for them consisted of wretched rhymes. Their model of poetry was the clumsy verse of Eleazar Kalir, which they considered inimitable. Their sluggish minds were prone to all the superstition of the Middle Ages. What a contrast to them did the Spanish traveler present, with his refined taste for art, his healthy ideas, and his philosophical education! The time of his arrival in Rome was favorable to the revival of the higher culture. Just at this time there arose a bold priest, Arnold of Brescia, who asserted that the popes did not rule according to the spirit of the Gospel: that they ought not to hold temporal sovereignty, but should live as true servants of the Church, and act with proper humility.
An earnest spirit of inquiry and a striving after freedom arose in the home of the papacy. The people listened eagerly to the inspired words of the young reformer, threw off their allegiance to the papacy, and declared their state a republic (1139–1143). Just at this time, Ibn-Ezra lived at Rome. It is most probable that youths and men gathered in large numbers in order to hear the great traveler, the deeply learned Spanish scholar, who knew well how to enchant them by his terse, lively, striking, and witty conversation.
In Rome the first production of Ibn-Ezra, who had now reached his fiftieth year, appeared, an exposition of the Five Megilloth. His exegetical principles were made evident in his earliest efforts. Everything that was obscure disappeared before his clear vision, unless he purposely shut his eyes so that he might not see what was right, or else pretended not to see at all. Was it the doubt that was agitating his mind, or was it his weakness of character which made him shrink from rudely dispelling the dreams of the multitude? It cannot be gainsaid that Ibn-Ezra often denies the truth, or conceals it in such a manner that it is recognizable only by men of equal intellect.
Great as were Ibn-Ezra's exegetical talents, they did not enable him to comprehend and thoroughly to analyze doubtful Biblical passages so as to bring them into some sort of connection as an organic whole, or as a beautifully constructed work of art. His mind was more directed to individual, detached questions, his restless thought was never concentrated on one thing, but always had a tendency to digress to other subjects only slightly connected with the original matter. Ibn-Ezra was the first to convey to the Roman Jews a conception of the importance of Hebrew grammar, of which they were completely ignorant. He translated the grammatical works of Chayuj, from Arabic into Hebrew, and wrote a work under the title of "The Balance" (Moznaim), the only interesting part of which is the well-written historical introduction reviewing the labors of his predecessors in the sphere of Hebrew philology.
In the summer of 1145 he was at Mantua, and here he composed a new grammatical work upon the niceties of the Hebrew style (Zachot). In this book he charged those with heresy who deviated from the Massoretic authorities. This conduct appears the more incongruous, since he himself, though secretly, took still greater liberties with the text of the Bible. He remarks of the grammatical works of Ibn-Janach, that they ought to be thrown into the fire, because the author suggests that more than a hundred words in the Bible ought to be read or understood in another than the accepted manner. His condemnatory judgment was of such effect that the important productions of Ibn-Janach remained unknown to the following generations, and inquirers were compelled to quench their thirst at broken cisterns.
He does not appear to have stayed long in Mantua, but to have betaken himself thence to Lucca, where he dwelt for several years, and gathered a circle of disciples about him. Here he occupied himself very much with the study of astronomy, drew up astronomical tables, and paid great attention also to the pseudo-science of astrology, which was diligently studied by Mahometans and Christians. He wrote many books under different titles on this subject (1148).
After recovering from a severe illness, he determined to write a commentary on the Pentateuch, a self-appointed task from which he shrank on account of its great difficulty. He was now in the sixty-fourth year of his age (1152–1153). But there are no signs of old age to be found in the work, which bears the stamp of freshness and youthful vigor. The exposition of the Pentateuch by Ibn-Ezra is an artistic piece of work, both in contents and in form. The language is vigorous, flowing and witty, the interpretation profound, temperate, and bearing the impress of devoted work. His rich store of knowledge, his extensive reading and experience enabled him to make the Book of books more intelligible, and to scatter the misty clouds in which ignorance and prejudice had enshrouded it.
In his introduction he describes in a very striking and clever manner the four customary and unsuitable methods of interpretation which he desires to avoid. Confident of success, he puts himself above his predecessors, and completes the task which he had set himself, to fix the natural meaning of the text. Ibn-Ezra, by means of his commentary to the Pentateuch, became the leader of the school of temperate, careful, and scientific expositors of the Bible, and held the first place among the few enlightened minds opposed to the obscurity of Agadic explanation, of which Rashi was the leading exponent. For although he denounced as heretical every interpretation that differed from the Massora, yet rationalists considered him their leading authority, and even unbelief looked to him for support. In fact, Ibn-Ezra gives us abundant reason for reckoning him among such men as Chivi Albalchi, Yitzchaki, and others, who called the authority of the Pentateuch into question. In a vague and mysterious way, he suggested that several verses in the Torah had been added by a later hand, and that whole passages belonged to a later period. It is difficult to know whether he was in earnest in his scepticism or in his firm belief. In Lucca, Ibn-Ezra wrote his brilliant commentary on Isaiah (1154–1155), and other less important works. After the completion of his commentary on the Pentateuch (1155), Ibn-Ezra left Italy, and went to the south of France, which, on account of its connection with Catalonia, possessed more of the Spanish-Jewish culture than the north of France, Italy, or Germany. In Jewish history Provence forms the dividing line between two methods, the strictly Talmudical, and the scientific and artistic. The Jewish Provençals worked actively according to both methods, but did not attain any degree of excellence in either, merely remaining admirers and imitators. Ibn-Ezra introduced a new element into this circle. In the town of Rhodez he lived several years (1155–1157), and wrote his commentaries to the book of Daniel, the Psalms, and the Twelve Prophets. His fame became wide-spread, and attracted admirers. The greatest rabbinical authority of the time, Jacob Tam, sent him a poem of homage. Ibn-Ezra was very much surprised, and replied with an epigram, half complimentary, half insulting. His love of travel led him, now in his seventieth year, to foggy London, where he found a liberal Mæcenas, who treated him with affection. Here he composed a kind of philosophy of religion, written, however, with such extreme carelessness and haste, that it is absolutely impossible to follow his train of thought. On the whole, Ibn-Ezra accomplished as little in this branch of learning as in general philosophy.
After this work on the philosophy of religion, while still in London, he wrote a defense of the Sabbath, which is interesting on account of its introduction. He begins by telling a dream which he had had, and in which the Sabbath in person handed him a letter. Herein the Sabbath complains that a disciple of Ibn-Ezra had brought writings into his house in which the Biblical day was said to begin in the morning, and that consequently the evening before the Sabbath possessed no sanctity. The apparition thereupon commanded him to take up the defense of the Sabbath. He awoke from his dream, and by the light of the moon read the impious writings which had been brought to him, and, in truth, found therein an assertion that the Biblical day began in the morning and not in the evening. This unorthodox doctrine, which, it may be remarked, was propounded by the grandson of Rashi, the pious Samuel ben Meïr, aroused Ibn-Ezra; and he felt himself in duty bound to controvert it with all his might, "lest Israel be led into error." In pious wrath he writes, "May the hand of him who wrote this wither, and may his eyes be darkened." The defense, which consists of the interpretation of Biblical verses and of astronomical explanations, bears the name of "The Sabbath Epistle." Although he was in prosperous circumstances whilst in London, and had many pupils, he left that city after a short stay. In the autumn of 1160 he visited Narbonne, and later on (1165 or 1166) he was again at Rhodez, where in his old age he revised his commentary to the Pentateuch, and abridged it, retaining the most essential portions, and finally composed his last book, a grammatical work (Safah Berurah). His vigor and freshness of intellect, which he retained even to the end of his life, are wonderful; his last productions, like his first, bear the imprint of vivacity, confidence, and youthful power. Besides his exegetical, grammatical, astronomical, and astrological writings, he was also the author of several works on mathematics. It appears that in his closing years Ibn-Ezra longed to return to his native land, and began his homeward journey. When, however, he reached Calahorra, on the borders of Navarre and Aragon, he died, and it is said that on his death-bed he wittily applied a Bible verse to himself: "Abraham was 78 years old when he escaped from the curse of this world." He died on Monday, 1st Adar (22d January), 1167. He left many pupils and a talented son, who, however, did not add glory to his name.
The Jewish community in France at this time also possessed a highly gifted man, who not only concentrated within himself the chief characteristics of the French school, and thus became an authority for several centuries, but who also partook of the spirit of the Jewish-Spanish school. Jacob Tam of Rameru (born about 1100, died 1171) was the most distinguished disciple of the school of Rashi. Being the youngest of the three learned grandchildren of the great teacher of Troyes, Tam could not have acquired anything from his grandfather, whom he knew only in the early years of his childhood. However, he attained so high a degree of excellence in the study of the Talmud that he outshone his contemporaries, and even his elder brothers, Isaac and Samuel (Rashbam). The interminable paths and the winding roads of the Talmudical labyrinth were familiar to him, and he had a rare knowledge of the whole region. He united clearness of intellect with acuteness in reasoning, and was the chief founder of the school of the Tossafists. None of his predecessors had revealed such profound knowledge and so marvelous a dialectical ingenuity in the sphere of the Talmud. Although not in office, and engaged in business, he was esteemed the most famous rabbi of his time, and his renown traveled as far as Spain and Italy. Questions upon difficult points were sent to him exclusively, not only from his own land, but also from southern France and Germany; and all the rabbinical authorities of the period bowed to him with the deepest reverence. In his youth he was surrounded by pupils who regarded him with veneration as their ideal. He was so overwhelmed with the task of answering questions sent to him that he sometimes succumbed. The fanatics of the second crusade, who almost deprived him of life, robbed him of all his possessions, and left him nothing more than his life and his library. Nevertheless, he composed his commentary to the Talmud just at this troubled period. He was a man of thoroughly firm religious and moral character, in which there was only one blemish: he took usury from Christians. Indeed, he, to a certain extent, disregarded the rigid Talmudic laws on usury, in contravention of the practice of his grandfather.