A Convenient Hatred: The History of Antisemitism (33 page)

Von Laurin was one of the few diplomats in the Middle East who did not believe that Jews engaged in ritual murder. When Merlato changed his mind about the case, von Laurin supported the consul’s new stand. He also asked Muhammad Ali to intervene. To add weight to the request, he persuaded other European diplomats in Alexandria to support the call for a new investigation. Only the French refused.

The increasingly uncompromising stand taken by the Austrian diplomats placed Sherif Pasha in a difficult situation. The only way he could get a confession from Picciotto was to use torture. But to do so in defiance
of a powerful European nation would be dangerous to him and to his father, Muhammad Ali. At a time when European rulers were competing for colonies, many were willing to use any excuse to attack a weaker country. So even though Sherif Pasha bombarded Merlato with complaints, he made no effort to torture Picciotto or take him into his own custody. At the same time, Sherif Pasha slowed the pace of the interrogations and released the children he had been holding hostage. It was becoming clear to him that the fate of his prisoners would be decided in Egypt, not Syria.

As the case was winding down in Damascus, however, it took on new urgency elsewhere. As the story spread through the Middle East, anger against Jews grew in many other cities. A Jew in Beirut wrote in March, “[W]e can hardly leave our homes. Everybody, great and small alike, attacks us and forces their way into our houses. We are utterly abased.”
¹⁰

Tensions were also high in Alexandria, Constantinople, Jerusalem, and the island of Rhodes.

Indeed, Christians in Rhodes had charged Jews with another ritual murder at around the same time. On February 17, a young Greek Orthodox boy had failed to return home from an errand. The next day his mother appealed to the authorities for help. When the boy was still missing after a few days, the European consuls put pressure on the local government to solve the case. The agitation increased when news of the Damascus affair reached Rhodes.

In the 1840s, news traveled slowly—the first telegraph line was not built until 1844, and the telephone was not invented until the 1870s. Using the fastest transportation available, it took about 20 days for a letter from Syria to reach Paris or Vienna. As a result, most Europeans were unaware of the events unfolding in Damascus until early March when a steady stream of letters arrived from a variety of sources. Frantic Jews in the Middle East wrote to relatives, friends, and anyone who could possibly help. Letters also came from European diplomats, businessmen, missionaries, and travelers.

Anton von Laurin, the Austrian consul-general in Alexandria, sent one of those letters to James Rothschild, a member of one of the richest and most influential Jewish families in the 1800s. James’s father, Mayer Rothschild, had made his fortune buying and selling antique coins and medals in the Frankfurt ghetto in what is now Germany. Later he branched out into money lending and investment banking. In time, his sons joined
the business. Each set up a branch in a major European city: Amschel, the oldest, remained in Frankfurt, Nathan settled in London, Solomon in Vienna, James in Paris, and Karl in Naples. During the Napoleonic wars, the brothers had increased the family’s wealth by lending money to governments and transporting gold and other precious metals across enemy lines for the British, Prussian, and Austrian armies.

The letter von Laurin sent to James Rothschild detailed everything he knew about the Damascus affair. It was not the only letter Rothschild and his brothers received. Jews in Istanbul and Jerusalem, Christian missionaries, heads of Jewish charities in Syria, and many others also pleaded with the brothers to intervene. In 1840, there was nowhere else to turn for help.

Although many people believed that the Rothschild family had enormous power, the brothers were acutely aware of the limits of their influence. Antisemitism affected all Jews, including the very rich. For example, the emperor of Austria made Solomon Rothschild an honorary citizen and awarded him the title of baron in recognition of his contributions to the empire. Yet, as a Jew, Solomon could only be an “honorary citizen,” not a real one. He and his family lived in a hotel, because no Jew—not even one with the title of baron—could buy a house in Vienna. That right was reserved for Christians.

A few days after sending his first letter to James Rothschild, Anton von Laurin sent a second letter, informing Rothschild that the situation was getting worse and urging that he go to the newspapers with the story, because they would “raise a cry of horror.”
¹¹

Von Laurin had no way of knowing that the story was already headline news in Europe. And most of the early newspaper accounts supported the French consul and Sherif Pasha. These papers spoke of the “barbarity of the Jews,” denounced the “horror of the crime,” and expressed outrage at “human sacrifices.” Why were European editors so certain that “the Jews” were guilty of such terrible crimes? No newspaper in the 1840s had a single reporter in any foreign country. The press got its information from Europeans in the area—in this case, in Damascus and nearby cities.

Some Jews responded to the sensational stories with indignant letters to the editor. One of those letters was written at the request of James Rothschild, based on information from von Laurin and others in the region. The author was Adolphe Crémieux, the vice president of the Central Consistory of French Jews (see
Chapter 9
). His letter changed the way the Damascus affair was treated in the French press.

Crémieux claimed that he spoke, “in the name of your Jewish fellow-citizens whom your report has shocked; in the name of all the Jews throughout the world who will protest
en masse
; and in the name of the Damascus Jews over whom at this very moment the sword of death may be poised.”
¹²
He began by questioning the assumptions made by the authorities in Damascus. Why would a few wealthy Jews plotting a horrendous crime have let a stranger—Solomon Halek, the barber—in on their scheme? How likely was it that murderers eager to escape detection would dispose of “the bones” of their victim near their own homes? And finally, why would Jews be collecting blood for Passover two months early?

On the issue of ritual murder, Crémieux pointed out that Jewish law does not permit Jews to eat eggs that have a blood spot. How likely was it, he asked, that such a religion would allow the use of blood to make unleavened bread?

Although the letter did not stop talk of ritual murder, it did change the tone of the newspaper stories. One paper backed off, declaring, “We had not intended to be understood as guaranteeing the truth of this accusation.” In other words, that paper and others like it had printed whatever information they received without questioning its truth or its logic.

The Rothschilds and other Jewish leaders also met privately with heads of government and religious leaders. Their success varied. The Austrian and British governments were eager to help, mainly because it was in their interest to do so. Both saw the affair as an opportunity to embarrass France. Some Jews tried to persuade Pope Gregory XVI to speak out, but he chose to remain silent and banned all public discussion of the affair in Rome. When asked for permission to reprint statements made by earlier popes condemning Christians who accused Jews of ritual murder (see
Chapter 5
), the pope refused.

Adolphe Thiers, the French prime minister, was also silent. In an effort to force him to speak, Benoît Fould, the only Jew in the Chamber of Deputies, gave a speech on June 2 in which he charged:

The disappearance of the [monk] became an occasion for deliberate religious persecution. The consul of France incites to torture: at a time when the French nation offers an example not only of equality before the law, but of religious equality, it is a Frenchman who instigates exceptional [police] measures, who has recourse to torture, who upholds arbitrary measures [and] the executioners of the Pasha.
¹³

In response, Thiers declared, “The more [Ratti-Menton and his colleagues] are attacked by foreign agents, the firmer will be my support for them, above all when they are attacked by the interested parties [such as Britain and Austria].” The deputies applauded.

Nevertheless, as people around the world followed the debate, public opinion began to shift. On July 8, at a meeting in London, Christian clergymen and members of Britain’s Parliament joined others in England in protesting the tortures and the charges of ritual murder. Similar rallies took place in Paris, New York City, and Philadelphia. U.S. President Martin Van Buren sent letters to the U.S. consul in Alexandria and the U.S. ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, asking them to help Jews in Damascus. American diplomats throughout the region, including the vice-consul in Beirut, quickly adjusted their stand on the case.

By early summer, Jewish leaders in Paris and London were planning a trip to Egypt to try to resolve the crisis. Adolphe Crémieux and Moses Montefiore, the president of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, headed the mission. Montefiore was an Orthodox Jew whose activism was rooted in his religious beliefs. Crémieux was a secular Jew—one who is not observant but who identifies with Jews as a people. His activism grew out of his strong commitment to the values of the French Revolution—
liberté, egalité
, and
fraternité
(liberty, equality, and fraternity, or brotherhood).

B
LOOD
L
IBELS
(1800–1914)

The false claim that Jews murdered Christians for “their blood” did not end with the Enlightenment. It continued throughout the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth.

The two men left for Egypt on July 18, 1840, after learning that the viceroy of Egypt, Muhammad Ali, was going to open a new investigation into the Damascus affair. Crémieux and Montefiore hoped that he would give them permission to question witnesses and collect evidence in support of the defendants. By the time they reached Alexandria, however, the situation had changed dramatically: The French consul-general had persuaded Muhammad Ali to abandon the idea of reopening the case.

To further complicate the situation, Egypt was now on the brink of a war with the Ottoman Empire and its four European allies—Austria, Britain, Russia, and Prussia. Just a few days after Crémieux and Montefiore reached Alexandria, the five governments gave Muhammad Ali an ultimatum: give up Syria and other conquered territories within 30 days or risk a war.

Although this ultimatum had nothing to do with the Damascus affair, it made it more difficult for Crémieux and Montefiore to meet with Muhammad Ali. As a result, they decided to alter their strategy. Instead of insisting on a new investigation, they urged Muhammad Ali to free the prisoners and issue a royal decree declaring the accusation that Jews commit ritual murder is false and slanderous.

Until August 26, Muhammad Ali refused to take action. That day, he learned that the British had sunk several Egyptian supply ships in the Mediterranean Sea and were preparing to land on the beaches of Lebanon. The British were aiding the Ottomans, and the two were willing to use any means to get the Egyptians out of Syria—including attacks on unarmed ships and innocent civilians. Muhammad Ali was now convinced that unless he acted quickly, he could lose everything, including Egypt. On August 28, he gave up his claim to Syria without consulting his ally, France. The French were also not consulted about a second concession—this time, one regarding the outcome of the Damascus affair. How that decision came about sounds incredible, but it appears to be a true story.

Muhammad Ali had called his two private physicians—both Christians, one French and the other Italian—to the palace early on the morning of August 28 to remove a painful boil from his buttocks. As they lanced the boil, one of the doctors remarked that the viceroy would need
all his strength to deal with the political threats he was facing, and surely the voice of six million Jews raised in his favor would be of great importance. (At the time, it was widely believed that there were six million Jews in the world.) To the surprise of the two men, Muhammad Ali agreed, saying that he would free the Jewish prisoners immediately. The tactic used by the two doctors had worked partly because Muhammad Ali, like many other people, agreed with their exaggerated view of “Jewish power.”

As soon as the physicians finished their work, they told Crémieux the news. Over the next few days, Crémieux and Montefiore tried once again to persuade the viceroy to issue a decree declaring that Jews do not engage in ritual murder. Muhammad Ali turned them down, saying that even though he did not believe that Jews killed Christians for their blood, he had no interest in issuing a public statement.

Montefiore was determined to get a decree—if not from the viceroy of Egypt, then from the sultan of the Ottoman Empire. So he stopped in Istanbul before heading home. The sultan, who had already dismissed charges of ritual murder against Jews in Rhodes, agreed. He announced that after examining Jewish beliefs and religious books, he had concluded that accusations of ritual murder made against Jews were “pure slander.”