Credit Antisemitism
Credit Antisemitism
Credit Antisemitism
Exchange
Author(s): Francesca Trivellato
Source: The Journal of Modern History , Vol. 84, No. 2, The Jew in the Modern European
Imaginary (June 2012), pp. 289-334
Published by: The University of Chicago Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/664732
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to The Journal of Modern History
Francesca Trivellato
Yale University
The history of Europe between 1500 and 1800 is largely a history of the
decline of old feudal hierarchies and the rise of new commercial and legal
elites. But it is also a history of the multifarious, deeply ambivalent, and
ever-contested views that commerce elicited—as the livelihood of humankind
and generator of peace, solidarity, and virtuous restraint, or as the corruptor of
old mores and source of insatiable desires (to cite only some of the arguments
that were rehearsed most often). The role that Jews played in these debates as
well as in the concrete economic transformations that accompanied them can
shed important light not only on the internal transformation of Jewish societies
but also on prevailing notions of the shifting balance between virtue and
commerce, between traditional values concerning social order and the grow-
ing opportunities for money to erode those traditional values. To cite Jonathan
Karp, “the Jews’ commercial identities served as a barometer of shifting
general attitudes toward commerce, money, and credit as a whole.” More
precisely, “the notion . . . [of] a specifically Jewish commerce served a vital
function in Western thought. It served to abstract various types of activities from
the generality of economic life and, through their association with stigmatized
Jews, make them vehicles for expressing widely felt anxieties about commerce in
a manner that was politically safe and psychically tolerable.”1
Scores of social scientists and historians have written about the consequen-
tial ways in which private and public credit shaped social relations, economic
development, and political institutions in early modern Europe. According to
the standard account, the expansion of the market grew hand in hand with the
decline of personal ties, oligopolies, and religious discrimination. But just
how impersonal was early modern European commercial society? And how
were experienced actors and ordinary people able to defend themselves from
the perils of impersonal markets, in which dubious business practices could
lurk behind anonymity, especially when reliable credit ratings did not exist
and tribunals were not always fair or effective? These questions were ubiq-
1 Jonathan Karp, The Politics of Jewish Commerce: Economic Ideology and Eman-
cipation in Europe, 1638 –1848 (Cambridge, 2008), 19, 2. See also Derek J. Penslar,
Shylock’s Children: Economics and Jewish Identity in Modern Europe (Berkeley,
2001), 11– 89.
The Journal of Modern History 84 (June 2012): 289 –334
© 2012 by The University of Chicago. 0022-2801/2012/8402-0001$10.00
All rights reserved.
uitous in early modern Europe and have left ample traces in court records,
legal and political treatises, literary works, memoirs, popular proverbs, and
even visual representations. As many scholars have demonstrated, the social,
legal, and symbolic dimensions of credit were intrinsically interlinked; they
also took specific forms in different contexts.2
I wish to contribute to these investigations by examining a legend according
to which Jews expelled from France during the Middle Ages invented bills of
exchange. Though few today mention it, this legend circulated widely across
Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and was endorsed by
authors such as Montesquieu. In spite of growing skepticism, it also survived
through the early twentieth century, when Werner Sombart gave it a new twist
in his notorious The Jews and Modern Capitalism.3
Credit can multiply riches or wipe them out. Bills of exchange exemplified
the potential benefits and hidden dangers of credit. They allowed merchants to
remit payments in foreign cities, to extend short-term credit, and to speculate
2 For France, see Laurence Fontaine, L’économie morale: Pauvreté, crédit et con-
fiance dans l’Europe préindustrielle (Paris, 2008); and Amalia D. Kessler, A Revolution
in Commerce: The Parisian Merchant Court and the Rise of Commercial Society in
Eighteenth-Century France (New Haven, CT, 2007). For England, see Craig Muldrew,
The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social Relations in Early Modern
England (Basingstoke, 1998); Margot C. Finn, The Character of Credit: Personal Debt in
English Culture, 1740 –1914 (Cambridge, 2003); Carl Winnerlind, Casualties of Credit:
The English Financial Revolution, 1620 –1720 (Cambridge, MA, 2011).
3 Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, trans. and ed. Anne M. Cohler, Basia Carolyn
Miller, and Harold Samuel Stone (Cambridge, 1989), 390 (bk. 21, chap. 21); Werner
Sombart, The Jews and Modern Capitalism (1911), trans. M. Epstein (New Brunswick,
NJ, and London, 1997), 65. Albert O. Hirschman, Shmuel Ettinger, Maurice Kriegel,
Jerry Z. Mueller, and Michael Ragussis cite Montesquieu’s passage attributing the
invention of bills of exchange to Jews, but they do not inquire into its authenticity, nor
do they unravel its implications except to point to Montesquieu’s unusual (for his time
and milieu) appreciation of Jews’ economic contribution. Hirschman, The Passions
and the Interests: Political Arguments for Capitalism before Its Triumph (Princeton,
NJ, 1977), 72; Ettinger, “The Economic Activities of the Jews” [in Hebrew], in Jews
in Economic Life: Collected Essays in Memory of Arkadius Kahan (1920 –1982), ed.
Nachum Gross (Jerusalem, 1984), 13–24, 17; Kriegel, “Juifs,” in Dictionnaire rai-
sonné de l’Occident médiéval, ed. Jacques Le Goff and Jean-Claude Schmitt (Paris,
1999), 569 – 86, 575–76; Mueller, Capitalism and the Jews (Princeton, NJ, 2010), 20;
Ragussis, Theatrical Nation: Jews and Other Outlandish Englishmen in Georgian
Britain (Philadelphia, 2010), 89 –90. The only scholar who has delved into the subject
did so in order to dispute the legend’s veracity and to correct predominant interpre-
tations among scholars of Jewish history about the credit practices used by Jewish
merchants in the sixteenth century: Benjamin Arbel, “Jews, the Rise of Capitalism and
Cambio: Commercial Credit and Maritime Insurance in the Early Modern Mediterra-
nean World” [in Hebrew], Zion 69, no. 2 (2004): 157–202. My goal is a different one:
to grapple with the legend’s significance in relation to Christian representations of
Jewish economics and the diffusion of new credit practices.
4 Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, 390 (bk. 21, chap. 21); Cesare Beccaria,
“Prolusione letta il giorno 9 gennaio 1769 nell’apertura della nuova cattedra di scienze
camerali nelle scuole palatine di Milano,” in Scrittori classici italiani di economia
pubblica, 48 vols. (Milan, 1804), 12:185; Ambroise Marie Arnould, De la balance du
commerce et des relations commerciales exterieures de la France, 2 vols. (Paris,
1791), 1:21–22; Jean-Guillaume Locré, La législation civile, commerciale et criminelle
de la France, 30 vols. (Paris, 1827–32), 18:141; Code de commerce, 2 vols. (Paris,
1807), 2:34. In this article, I am not concerned with comparisons between credit
instruments in use in Europe and elsewhere. I only note that while letters of credit
existed since antiquity and instruments combining credit and exchange were known in
the medieval Islamic world and in parts of early modern Asia, outside of Europe there
existed no international financial fairs dedicated exclusively to the purchase and sale
of bills of exchange or equally complex legal norms overseeing these credit instru-
ments. Useful observations and bibliographical references are in Arbel, “Jews, the Rise
of Capitalism and Cambio,” 199 –201; and Markus A. Denzel, “The European Bill of
Exchange,” in Cashless Payments and Transactions from the Antiquity to 1914, ed.
Sushil Chaudhuri and Markus A. Denzel (Stuttgart, 2008), 153–94, 153–55.
5 John Scarlett, The Stile of Exchange (London, 1682), preface; also cited and
1450 –1815 (Princeton, NJ, 1996); Jonathan Dewald, Aristocratic Experience and the
Origins of Modern Culture: France, 1570 –1715 (Los Angeles, 1993), esp. 146 –73;
Philip T. Hoffman, Gilles Postel-Vinay, and Jean-Laurent Rosenthal, Priceless Mar-
sophes’ profound ambivalence toward Jews and Judaism.7 Rarely do these two
lines of inquiry intersect.8 Several authors have drawn attention to early
French formulations of modern political economy but have ignored references
to Jews.9 My goal is to show that representations of Jews were part and parcel
of critiques of commercial credit, particularly as traditional concepts of honor
and virtue came under attack in Old Regime France.
I do so by demonstrating that concerns with putatively distinctive forms of
Jewish credit and commerce traversed both canonical and minor economic
texts. I canvass a heterogeneous body of work that goes under the name of ars
mercatoria and comprises what today we consider classics of economic
thought, as well as dictionaries, how-to books instructing merchants about
practical arithmetic, bookkeeping, and related business techniques, volumes
of commercial jurisprudence, travel accounts, and histories of commerce from
antiquity to the present. France was a leader in this field during the seven-
teenth century and continued to produce influential works thereafter. Although
I can only hint at the legend’s dissemination across Europe through the
eighteenth century, I document its persistence and evolution. To examine the
kets: The Political Economy of Credit in Paris, 1660 –1870 (Chicago, 2000); William
H. Sewell Jr., “The Empire of Fashion and the Rise of Capitalism in Eighteenth-
Century France,” Past and Present 206 (2010): 81–120. Julie Hardwick estimates that
“litigation over debt was the single largest category in court case loads” in seventeenth-
century France: Family Business: Litigation and the Political Economies of Daily Life
in Early Modern France (Oxford, 2009), 10.
7 Arthur Hertzberg, The French Enlightenment and the Jews: The Origins of Mod-
ern Anti-Semitism (New York, 1968); Ronald Schechter, Obstinate Hebrews: Repre-
sentations of Jews in France, 1715–1815 (Berkeley, 2003); Adam Sutcliffe, Judaism
and Enlightenment (Cambridge, 2003).
8 An exception is an intriguing if all too brief comment by Sarah Maza. In arguing
that the French middling sorts lacked class consciousness before the mid-nineteenth
century, she adds: “In French culture the bourgeois has had much in common with
another socially ambiguous and much reviled type, the Jew”— both were perceived “as
despicable and dangerous.” Maza, The Myth of the French Bourgeoisie: An Essay on
the Social Imaginary, 1750 –1850 (Cambridge, MA, 2003), 25. Jonathan Karp (The
Politics of Jewish Commerce, 135–50) emphasizes a different analogy that emerged in
the wake of the French Revolution equating Jews with aristocrats: both groups were
perceived as parasitical but were now given the choice of assimilating into the new
bourgeois nation and participating in its productive economy. This analogy was also
widespread in Germany (151– 69).
9 Jean-Claude Perrot, Une histoire intellectuelle de l’économie politique, XVIIe–
XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1992); Hirschman, The Passions and the Interests; John Shovlin,
The Political Economy of Virtue: Luxury, Patriotism, and the Origins of the French
Revolution (Ithaca, NY, 2006); Henry C. Clark, Compass of Society: Commerce and
Absolutism in Old-Regime France (Lanham, MD, 2007); Paul Cheney, Revolutionary
Commerce: Globalization and the French Monarchy (Cambridge, MA, 2010).
legend’s role in discussions about credit and usury in the seventeenth- and
eighteenth-century ars mercatoria is also a way of testing the assumption that
overall this literature expressed an eminently pragmatic and largely secular
undercurrent of European culture, shorn of explicit philosophical discussions
but also immune to religious dogmatism and prejudice.10
Through an examination of the legend, the context in which it emerged, and
its reverberations, I suggest that its meaning and endurance derived from the
continuing and even growing need to discriminate honorable from predatory
credit activities. The power of the story consisted in its ability to mobilize
ingrained images of Jews as usurers in terms that did not correspond to
verifiable phenomena and rarely matched any contemporaneous reality but
expressed deeply felt apprehensions about the expansion of credit. As with
most legends, this one had shaky empirical foundations. Its plasticity and
inaccuracy added to rather than detracted from its evocative power.
14 As it is today, the exchange rate was inflated in favor of the lender. Nevertheless,
the risk for the lender was greater than in modern exchange operations because the
information technology of the time reduced a banker’s ability to predict fluctuations in
currency rates. To curb this risk, merchant-bankers relied on their agents overseas and
later also on the printing press in order to acquire up-to-date news about economic
conditions bearing on exchange rates. As the market for bills of exchange grew larger,
specialized brokers made a business of acquiring timely information to serve their
clients who wished to trade in these bills.
15 de Roover, “What Is Dry Exchange?” 261– 65; Giulio Mandich, Le pacte de
ricorsa et le marché italien des changes au XVIIe siècle (Paris, 1953); James Stevens
Rogers, The Early History of the Law Bills and Notes: A Study of the Origins of
Anglo-American Commercial Law (Cambridge, 1995), 72–74.
16 Modern French scholars speak of a caste of merchant-bankers (“club” in their
Third, in a development that took place slowly after the late fourteenth
century but became common by the early seventeenth century, bills of ex-
change became transferable—that is, they could be endorsed with a signature
and made payable to the bearer, like modern checks.17 As a result, the
Xambeu, Private Money and Public Currencies: The 16th Century Challenge, trans.
Azizeh Azodi (Armonk, NY, 1994), 17–18 and passim. On the workings of these fairs,
see also de Roover, L’évolution, 74 – 81; Mandich, Le pacte de ricorsa; Luciano
Pezzolo and Giuseppe Tattara, “‘Una fiera senza luogo’: Was Bisenzone an Interna-
tional Capital Market in Sixteenth-Century Italy?” Journal of Economic History 68
(2008): 1098 –1122.
17 de Roover, L’évolution, 82–118; Herman van der Wee, The Growth of the
M. Luckett, “Credit and Commercial Society in France, 1740 –1789” (PhD diss.,
Princeton University, 1992), 9.
19 Veronica Aoki Santarosa, “Financing Long-Distance Trade without Banks: The
Joint Liability Rule and Bills of Exchange in 18th-Century France” (PhD diss., Yale
University, 2012).
20 Usury bans delayed the practice of discounting, which was nonetheless widespread in
seventeenth- and eighteenth-century France. Paul Harsin, “Le problème de l’escompte des
lettres de change en France aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles,” Revue internationale d’histoire
de la banque 7 (1973): 191–98; Charles Carrière, “Escomptait-on les lettres de change au
XVIIIe siècle?” in Banque et capitalisme commercial: La lettre de change au XVIIIe
siècle, ed. Charles Carrière et al. (Marseille, 1976), 21– 46.
21 Kessler, A Revolution in Commerce, 189.
L’économie morale, 73–76, 196 –211. The 1673 French Ordonnances de commerce for-
bade the concealment of any interest in the principal exchanged via a bill (tit. 6, art. 1), but
as a commentary to this text recognized, this rule was infringed on a daily basis: Sallé,
L’esprit des ordonnances de Louis XIV, 2 vols. (Paris, 1758), 2:392.
26 Jean-Baptiste Denisart, Collections de décisions nouvelles et de notions relatives
à la jurisprudence actuelle, new ed., 6 vols. (Paris, 1754 –56), 4:670 –71; Joseph-
In matters of credit and usury, it is too simplistic to argue that early modern
pragmatism replaced medieval intransigence. The medieval Church rarely
issued blanket condemnations of all forms of lending at interest and wealth
accumulation and did not retreat passively before the rise of commercial
classes. Doctrinal debates and policies returned over and over to the notion of
“immoderate usury” and, by implication, reasonable interest rates, for both
Jews and Christians.27 Most important, during the commercial revolution of
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, numerous Catholic theologians (Francis-
can friars in particular) and canon lawyers sought to distinguish the sin of
usury from credit agreements that were legitimate because they involved
respectable individuals and institutions (including ecclesiastical estates) and
benefitted the Christian community at large (bonum commune). While usury
was considered sterile and associated with a vile Jewish practice, commercial
credit (including some types of bills of exchange) could be ethical because upright
members of Christian society and Church representatives resorted to it.28 This
logic continued to inform numerous early modern Catholic commentaries. In
1682, the Parisian priest Jean Le Coreur argued that bills of exchange were not
usurious not only because they were not loans but also because the people who
handled them were not poor.29 In so doing, he reiterated an earlier distinction
between commercial credit and charitable loans. This distinction was crafted in
both symbolic and legal terms on many occasions, and after the mid-thirteenth
century it often hinged upon the figure of the Jewish usurer.
This figure was often adopted with moralizing intent regardless of its actual
referent. In Carlo Ginzburg’s words, “The ‘usurious Jew’ was, and has until
today been, above all a mythical figure, to be understood on a metaphorical
rather than a literal level. . . . Behind the usurious Jew lurked the Jew as
teenth Century,” Association for Jewish Studies Review 6 (1981): 1161– 84.
28 Giacomo Todeschini, La ricchezza degli ebrei: Merci e denaro nella riflessione
ebraica e nella definizione cristiana dell’usura alla fine del Medioevo (Spoleto, 1989),
Il prezzo della salvezza: Lessici medievali del pensiero economico (Rome, 1994), I
mercanti e il tempio: La società cristiana e il circolo virtuoso della ricchezza fra
medioevo ed età moderna (Bologna, 2002), 94 –131, 227– 486, and “Christian Percep-
tions of Jewish Economic Activity in the Middle Ages,” in Wirtschaftsgeschichte der
mittelalterlichen Juden: Fragen und Einschätzungen, ed. Michael Toch (Munich,
2008), 1–16.
29 Jean Le Coreur, Traité de la pratique des billets entre les négocians (Paris, 1682), 27.
larly after the Peace of Westphalia (1648). Jews were also tolerated in the Papal
territory of Avignon.
Christians (a label that generally assumed covert Jews), that recognition was
prompted by similar intentions: the wish to benefit from the proven and
perceived economic prowess of Iberian refugees.34
The new toleration policies passed after the 1550s boosted these refugees’
economic influence and channeled their activities to the import and export of
colonial goods and to the financial sector. Unlike Jews in Christian Europe
during the High Middle Ages, who were confined primarily to working as
pawnbrokers, the early modern Sephardim of Europe had investments that
spanned private commercial credit as well as the public debt and the stock
market. Iberian Jews and New Christians did not practice petty money lending
in cities where they were accepted after the sixteenth century; in fact, in some
places they were explicitly forbidden from engaging in it.
Consequently, commerce became a powerful vehicle of Jewish accultura-
tion and integration into Christian society. Credit relations between Jews and
Christians—not a novelty in itself—intensified. At the same time, local mer-
chants invariably railed against Sephardic merchants, whom they portrayed as
unfair competitors, especially in times of economic downturn. Discriminatory
rules also persisted. No systematic study tells us whether and how religious
affiliation affected everyday credit transactions between individuals in different
European cities. But ample anecdotal evidence indicates that in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries Catholics, Protestants, and Jews frequently drew bills
of exchange on each other. Jews also resorted to these bills when trading
among themselves—so much so that rabbinic authorities, especially but not
only across the European Sephardic world, had to relax their ban on lending
at interest among Jews. The Venetian rabbi Simone Luzzatto (1582–1663)
issued perhaps the most candid approval by a rabbinical authority of Jews
handling bills of exchange (including fictitious ones).35
Commercial papers from across western Europe show that an individual’s
creditworthiness and business proficiency—rather than his confessional mem-
34 Jonathan Israel, European Jewry in the Age of Mercantilism, 1550 –1750, 3rd ed.
(London and Portland, OR, 1998), and Diasporas within a Diaspora: Jews, Crypto-
Jews and the World Maritime Empires, 1540 –1740 (Leiden, 2002). The phenomenon
of “Court Jews” in Habsburg Germany was not entirely different: privileges were
granted to Jewish financiers and their families in exchange for their provisioning and
banking services.
35 According to Arbel, who has studied Luzzatto’s opinion, the Venetian rabbi
reached his revolutionary conclusion under pressure from his coreligionists involved in
the city’s financial activities (“Jews, the Rise of Capitalism and Cambio,” 191).
Rabbinic accommodation in financial matters also became a trend among Ottoman
Sephardim and Polish Ashkenazim: Matt Goldish, Jewish Questions: Responsa on
Sephardic Life in the Early Modern Period (Princeton, NJ, 2008); Edward Fram, Ideals
Face Reality: Jewish Law and Life in Poland, 1550 –1650 (Cincinnati, 1997).
36 Examples of bills of exchange between Jews and Christians from the last quarter
of the sixteenth century are cited in Arbel, “Jews, the Rise of Capitalism and Cambio,”
188. The evidence is more abundant for the eighteenth century because that is the
period to which most extant collections of Sephardic and Ashkenazic business records
date. Examples can be found in the business letters of Jewish partnerships such as those
of David Lindo (1730 – 41) in Bordeaux (Archives départamentales de la Gironde,
Bordeaux [hereafter ADG], 7B1590 –1612 [I thank Frances Malino for lending me her
microfilmed copy of these records]) and Ergas and Silvera (1704 – 46) in Livorno
(Archivio di Stato, Florence, Libri di commercio e di famiglia, 1931, 1935–39, 1941,
1945, 1953, 1957, 1960). See also references in Richard Menkis, “The Gradis Family
of Eighteenth Century Bordeaux: A Social and Economic Study” (PhD diss., Brandeis
University, 1988), 154 –245; José do Nascimento Raposo, “Don Gabriel de Silva, a
Portuguese-Jewish Banker in Eighteenth Century Bordeaux” (PhD diss., York Uni-
versity, Toronto, 1989), 204 –11, 250 – 61; Holly Snyder, “A Tree with Two Different
Fruits: The Jewish Encounter with German Pietists in the Eighteenth-Century Atlantic
World,” William and Mary Quarterly 58 (2001): 855– 82, 864 n. 30; Tijl Vanneste,
Global Trade and Commercial Networks: Eighteenth-Century Diamond Merchants
(London, 2011), 93–94, 106 –7; Santarosa, “Financing Long-Distance Trade.”
37 Giovanni Levi, “I commerci della Casa Daniele Bonfil e figlio con Marsiglia e
Costantinopoli (1773–1794),” in Venezia: Itinerari per la storia della città, ed. Stefano
Gasparri, Giovanni Levi, and Pierandrea Moro (Bologna, 1997), 223– 43, 228.
38 Mandich, Le pacte de ricorsa, 98 n. 40.
39 Giuseppe Sessa, Tractatus de Judæis eorum privilegiis, observantia, et recto
York, 1937– 83), 2:186; Benjamin Braude, “The Myth of the Sephardi Economic
Superman,” in Trading Cultures: The Worlds of Western Merchants, ed. Jeremy
Adelman and Stephen Aron (Turnhout, 2001), 165–94.
43 Anne Goldgar, Tulipmania: Money, Honor, and Knowledge in the Dutch Golden
talist?” Republics of Letters: A Journal for the Study of Knowledge, Politics, and the
Arts 2, no. 1 (2010), http://rofl.stanford.edu/node/66.
46 Karp, The Politics of Jewish Commerce, 70 –71. A host of middlebrow and
lowbrow theatrical and satirical representations show that Jews were frequent vehicles
for expressing critiques of rampant social mobility in eighteenth-century England;
Ragussis, Theatrical Nation, 97.
47 The inventory is in ADG, 3E3212, fols. 690r–715r. See also Laurent Coste, Milles
avocats du grand siècle: Le barreau de Bordeaux de 1589 à 1715 (Lignan-de-
Bordeaux, 2003), 72, 124, 149 –50. The only scholar to devote a monograph to Cleirac
emphasizes his influence on subsequent commercial legislation and jurisprudential
treatises: Adrienne Gros, L’oeuvre de Cleirac en droit maritime (Bordeaux, 1924). She
relays the legend without any skepticism (85).
48 Estienne Cleirac, Us et coustumes de la mer (Bordeaux, 1647). His Explication
des termes de marine (Paris, 1636) was reprinted in this and all subsequent editions of
Us et coustumes.
49 Two re-editions appeared in Bordeaux (in 1656 and 1661), two in Rouen (in 1671
and 1682), and one in Amsterdam (in 1788). The 1661 print run is recorded in a
notarial deed transcribed in Archives historiques du département de la Gironde 25
(1887): 419 –20. Still in the eighteenth century, only a few classics of the Enlighten-
ment were printed in between 1,000 and 1,800 copies; Henri-Jean Martin, “Une
croissance séculaire,” in Histoire de l’édition française, vol. 2, Le livre triumphant
1660 –1830, ed. Henri-Jean Martin and Roger Chartier (Paris, 1984), 94 –103, 102. In
L’apparition du livre (Paris, 1958), 327–34, Lucien Febvre and Henri-Jean Martin give
higher average figures for the earlier period but note that only religious books regularly
surpassed 2,000 copies in the seventeenth century (332).
50 Guy Miege, The Ancient Sea-laws of Oleron, Wisby and the Hanse-towns still in
force: Taken out of a French book, intitled, Les us & coustumes de la mer (London,
1686). This English booklet is often bound together with the many re-editions of
Gerard Malynes’s Law Merchant (first published in 1622). It did not contain the
passage that gave birth to the legend of the Jewish invention of bills of exchange.
51 Etienne Cleirac, Usance du négoce ou commerce de la banque des lettres de
change (Bordeaux, 1656). Two more editions of this work appeared in Paris (1659)
and Bordeaux (1670). Cleirac also annotated the customary laws of Guyenne sometime
after 1636. A nineteenth-century copy of this manuscript survives in the Bibliothèque de
droit et sciences économiques, Université Montesquieu Bordeaux4 (hereafter BDB4), Ms.
5. Evidently Cleirac had a profound and perhaps unusual interest in customary and
commercial laws. Before the 1673 Ordonnance de commerce, navigation and com-
mercial norms followed regulations issued by corporate organizations, local authori-
ties, and high tribunals. They were thus distinct from, though not always incompatible
with, codification. Little is known about the role of French legal professionals in the
commercial reforms of the seventeenth century. William F. Church argued that under
the absolutist rule of Louis XIV French jurists retreated from the study of political
theory and public law and wrestled instead with issues of private law, but neither
Church nor others have examined the role of lawyers in the evolution of seventeenth-
century French commercial law, which had a direct impact on royal sovereignty.
Church, “The Decline of the French Jurists as Political Theorists, 1660 –1789,” French
Historical Studies 5 (1967): 1– 40. Cleirac’s interest in customary norms should not be
interpreted as outright opposition to monarchical absolutism, not even during the
bloody conflicts that pitched the provincial government of Bordeaux against royal
power during his lifetime. On the contrary, he distanced himself from (though even-
tually pardoned) his son, who was a leader of the antimonarchic local Fronde. See
Cleirac’s testaments in ADG, 3E12218, fols. 257r–259v and 3 E 12219, fols. 347r–
348v, both transcribed in Archives historiques du départment de la Gironde 25 (1887):
390 –99. For an incisive overview of the tension between customary and Roman laws
in sixteenth-century France, see Donald R. Kelly, “‘Second Nature’: The Idea of
Custom in European Law, Society, and Culture,” in The Transmission of Culture in
Early Modern Europe, ed. Anthony Grafton and Ann Blair (Philadelphia, 1998),
131–72.
the thirteenth century, the code of Wisby (a Swedish free port), and the norms
issued by the Hanseatic League in the 1590s.52
The volume’s central part reproduces and annotates the Guidon de la Mer,
a collection of norms about maritime transport and contracts first compiled in
Rouen in the late sixteenth century.53 To the Guidon’s first article, which
defines premium-based marine insurance, Cleirac adds six pages of commen-
tary that plant the seeds of the legend discussed here. He begins as follows:
“Insurance policies and bills of exchange were unknown to ancient Roman
jurisprudence and are the posthumous invention of Jews, according to the
remarks of Giovan[n]i Villani in his universal history.”54
52 Not included in Cleirac’s volume is the Catalan Consulate of the Sea, the most
well-known medieval collection of Mediterranean commercial customs, likely because
it already existed in a French translation: Le Livre du Consulat (Aix-en-Provence,
1577). Before Cleirac, versions of the rules of Oléron had appeared in Pierre Garcie,
Le grant routtier (Poitiers, 1520) and its English translation by Robert Copland, The
Rutter of the Sea (London, 1557). See D. W. Waters, ed., The Rutters of the Sea: The
Sailing Directions of Pierre Garcie; A Study of the First English and French Printed
Sailing Directions, with Facsimile Reproduction (New Haven, CT, 1967), 38; Marcel
Gouron, L’Amirauté de Guienne depuis le premier Amiral anglais en Guienne jusqu’à
la Revolution (Paris, 1938), 8 –12; James W. Shephard, “The Rôles d’Oléron: A lex
mercatoria of the Sea?” in From “Lex Mercatoria” to Commercial Law, ed. Vito
Piergiovanni (Berlin, 2005), 207–53. On the possible originals used by Cleirac for his
French translation of the laws of Wisby, see Gros, L’oeuvre de Cleirac, 37.
53 The oldest extant edition is Guidon, stile et usance des marchands qui mettent à
la mer (Rouen, 1608), but Jean-Marie Pardessus dates this text to the years between
1556 and 1584: Us et coustumes de la mer, 2 vols. (Paris, 1847), 2:373.
54 Cleirac, Us et coustumes, 224. All translations from French originals are my own.
The adjective “posthumous” likely refers to the longevity that this invention enjoyed.
The tale is repeated in Cleirac, Usance du négoce, 6. Due to space constraints and in
light of the legend’s reception, I omit any detailed discussion of the aspects pertaining
to marine insurance except to stress that marine insurance also aroused concerns about
usury because the 1236 papal decree known as Naviganti equated insurance contracts
with monetary loans: Decretal V.19.19, in Corpus iuris canonici, ed. Aemilius Fried-
berg, 2 vols. (Graz, 1959), 2:816. The earliest forms of premium-based insurance
appeared in Italy in the fourteenth century. After the late fifteenth century, most
Catholic theologians and canon lawyers classified marine insurance as a purchase and
sale of risk rather than as a loan. Doctrinal changes went hand in hand with the
steadfast diffusion and standardization of marine insurance and the institutions that
governed it. See Noonan, The Scholastic Analysis of Usury, 134 –39, 202–3; L. A.
Boiteux, La fortune de mer, le besoin de sécurité et les débuts de l’assurance maritime
(Paris, 1968); J. P. van Niekerk, The Development of the Principles of Insurance Law
in the Netherlands from 1500 –1800, 2 vols. (Cape Town, 1998); Giovanni Ceccarelli,
“Risky Business: Theological and Canonical Thought on Insurance from the Thir-
teenth to the Seventeenth Century,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 31
(2001): 607–58. Questions about the place of marine insurance and bills of exchange
in rabbinic law do not concern us here because Cleirac would not have been aware of
those debates and because the majority of Sephardic merchants in seventeenth- and
Why Villani? The Florentine Giovanni Villani (d. 1348) was an apprentice
and then an investor in two of his city’s most important banking and com-
mercial companies, and he suffered from the financial collapse of the early
1340s before writing one of the most famous late medieval chronicles.55 The
chronicle is filled with details about and praise for Florence’s economic
activities, but it also exalts Catholic religiosity. Specifically, it furnishes the
standard narrative of the miracle of the profaned host that allegedly occurred
in Paris in 1290. A pillar of medieval antisemitism, this tale posited a nexus
between usury and the Jewish refusal to recognize Jesus’s divine nature.56 We
know that Cleirac read this passage in Villani because he cited it in another
work.57 However, Villani’s chronicle makes no mention of Jews having in-
vented marine insurance or bills of exchange.58 Rather, it appears that Cleirac
elaborated freely on a statement he had encountered in a then recently
published history of Lyon, which cites Villani accurately in order to assert that
Florentine Guelph expatriates brought the invention of banking to France and,
specifically, to Lyon.59
1971).
56 Miri Rubin, Gentile Tales: The Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews (New
cited the alleged Paris miracle from the Croniche di messer Giovanni Villani (Venice,
1537), fol. 94r (bk. 7, chap. 136): “io ti renderò il tuo pegno sanza denari, disse il
giudeo.”
58 Giovanni Villani, Nuova cronica, 3 vols., ed. Giuseppe Porta (Parma, 1990 –93).
from Chroniche di messer Giovanni Villani, fol. 60r (bk. 6, chap. 87). In the manu-
script draft of Cleirac’s Us et coustumes, a gloss in the margin of the Guidon’s first
article attributes the invention of bills of exchange to Florentine Guelph and Ghibelline
expatriates. It mentions Villani only as a source of general information about medieval
Florentine and Genoese banking and invokes Jews as usurers but not as inventors of
bills of exchange or marine insurance (Bibliothèque municipale, Bordeaux [hereafter
BMB], Ms. 381, fol. 117v/p. 236). We are unable to ascertain what role, if any,
Cleirac’s first publisher, Guillaume Millanges, played in the transformation of the text
from its manuscript to its printed form. The Millanges, who had established the
premier printing press in Bordeaux and routinely published Catholic religious books,
were of converso origins: Théophile Malvezin, Histoire des Juifs à Bordeaux (Bor-
deaux, 1875), 83, 114. The Us et coustumes’s second edition was even harsher on the
subject of Jewish usury (see n. 61). Gros (L’oeuvre de Cleirac, 185, 196) defends
Cleirac from accusations that he was a fanciful writer (“fantaisiste”) but recognizes that
such accusations contain a grain of truth. The puzzle of Villiani’s erroneous attribution
remains, especially because Cleirac is otherwise fairly accurate in his citations.
60 Cleirac cites the definition of marine insurance given by the Genoese high tribunal
(the Rota), which averted fears that such contracts might be usurious: Cleirac, Us et
coustumes, 224; De mercatura decisiones, et tractatus varii, et de rebus ad eam
pertinentibvs (Cologne, 1622), 21, 27–28. Although they did not amount to legal
precedents as in a common law system, the Genoese Rota’s sentences constituted one
of the most authoritative sources of commercial law in the Continent prior to 1673. The
first printed collection of such sentences appeared in 1582 and intentionally excluded
theologians’ views. Rodolfo Savelli, “Between Law and Morals: Interest in the Dispute
on Exchanges during the 16th Century,” in The Courts and the Development of
Commercial Law, ed. Vito Piergiovanni (Berlin, 1987), 39 –102; Vito Piergiovanni,
“Genoese Civil Rota and Mercantile Customary Law,” in Piergiovanni, From “Lex
Mercatoria” to Commercial Law, 191–206.
61 Dante’s parallelism between usurers and sodomites echoes the Aristotelian notion
of the sterility of money and also appears in Usance du négoce, 7– 8. Matthew of Paris
is cited from both his Chronica Majora (1216 –39) and his English History from the
Year 1235 to 1273. Two passing references to Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso
and his lesser-known play, I supposti, are little more than a display of humanistic
erudition. The Us et coustumes’s second edition develops Cleirac’s commentary to
include condemnations of usury by the Apostle Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians (5:3–5),
the Church Father Ambrose of Milan (De Tobia, chap. 3), and Canon 67 of the Fourth
Lateran Council (Corpus iuris canonici, V.19.18), as well as literary references to
Horace’s Satires, Boccaccio’s Genealogy of the Gentile Gods, and recent compilations
by French historians and jurists like Adam Théveneau and Étienne Pasquier.
62 Cleirac, Us et coustumes, 228. The noun and adjective “Lombard” described all
Italian merchant-bankers, most of whom came from northern or central Italy (though
not necessarily from Lombardy). On the presence of Lombards in fourteenth- and
fifteenth-century Amsterdam, see H. A. J. Maassen, Tussen commercieel en sociaal
krediet: De ontwikkeling van de bank van lening in Nederland van Lombard tot
gemeentelijke kredietbank 1260 –1940 (Hilversum, 1994), 42, 52.
63 On the expropriation of Jewish property and the settlement of Jewish-Christian
debts at the time of the 1306 expulsion from France, as well as the analogous events
in 1492 Spain, see William Chester Jordan, The French Monarchy and the Jews from
Philip Augustus to the Last Capetians (Philadelphia, 1989), 200 –213; Céline Balasse,
1306: L’expulsion des juifs du royaume de France (Brussels, 2008), esp. 149 –204;
Haim Beinart, The Expulsion of the Jews from Spain, trans. Jeffrey M. Green (1994;
repr., Portland, OR, 2002), esp. 118 –206; Miguel Ángel Ladero Quesada, “Después de
1492: Los bienes e debdas de los judíos,” in Judaísmo Hispano: Estudios en memoria
de José Luis Lacave Riaño, ed. Elena Romero, 2 vols. (Madrid, 2002), 2:727– 47;
Javier Castaño, “La encuesta sobre las deudas debidas a los judíos en el arzobispado
de Toledo (1493–96),” En la España Medieval 29 (2006): 287–309.
64 Luiz Suárez Fernández, ed., Documentos acerca de la expulsión de los judios
(Valladolid, 1964), 479 – 81; Beinart, The Expulsion of the Jews, 218, 291, 317–18;
George-Herbert Depping, Les juifs dans le moyen âge: Essai historique sur leur état
civil, comercial et littéraire (Paris, 1834), 427.
65 Three centuries later, Salonika’s rabbi and historian Isaac Samuel Emmanuel
speculated that Jews fleeing Spain invented bills of exchange and hid them in their
prayer books upon fleeing in order to have them repaid in Venice: Histoire des
Israélites de Salonique (140 av. J.-C. à 1640) (Paris, 1936), 1:56. Later in the text I
mention other Jewish appropriations of the legend.
Jewish bankers and pawnbrokers in late medieval Europe and the involvement
of Sephardic merchants in early modern overseas trade and finance.66 In Us et
coustumes, in contrast, the Middle Ages are not a bygone era but the formative
period of financial capitalism. Cleirac suggests continuity between money-
lending in medieval Italy and financial practices in early modern Amsterdam,
even though few Italian refugees settled in what was barely a village in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries and became the center of the world economy
only during his lifetime.67 At the same time, the Jews Cleirac invokes are
phantoms of the past. They have nothing in common with the crypto-Jews he
met in Bordeaux or those who lived openly as Jews in seventeenth-century
Amsterdam. Rather, they are prisoners of medieval discourses about usury,
which he applies to early modern commercial credit.68
The absence of a medieval version of the legend (in Villani or elsewhere)
reveals the partial novelty of this representation. In the late medieval Italian
ars mercatoria, bills of exchange are the prerogative of elite Catholic
merchant-bankers who are also civic and political leaders; they do not belong
to the Jewish economic sphere, which is confined to usurious moneylending
and, by the sixteenth century, to secondhand retail trade. For the renowned
fifteenth-century mathematician and Franciscan friar Luca Pacioli, “exchange
dealers should be blessed instead of being called usurers, Jews, and even
worse.”69 In sum, Cleirac appropriated medieval themes and reinterpreted
them in light of early modern concerns.
66 Israel (European Jewry) draws a sharp line between the medieval and early
modern epochs in Jewish history. He recognizes that in medieval Iberia Jews were
involved in a wider spectrum of professions than petty credit, but he stresses the urban
and regional character of their commercial activities in contrast to the transoceanic
ventures that made early modern Sephardim into protagonists of the European overseas
expansion (Diasporas, 6).
67 See n. 62. Bruges rather than Amsterdam was the medieval center of Italian
banking and commerce in the Low Countries: Raymond de Roover, Money, Banking
and Credit in Medieval Bruges: Italian Merchant-Bankers, Lombards and Money-
Changers; A Study in the Origins of Banking (Cambridge, MA, 1948).
68 Whatever Cleirac knew about the history of medieval French Jews he likely
learned from the numerous “histories of France” that were composed and published
during his lifetime. In such works the medieval expulsions are the only episodes
concerning Jewish life consistently mentioned (even if the 1306 expulsion decreed by
Philip the Fair is invoked more often than the persecutions by Philip the Tall). Myriam
Yardeni, Anti-Jewish Mentalities in Early Modern Europe (Lanham, MD, 1990), 19.
That would account for why Cleirac accurately cites the names of the Merovingian and
Capetian kings who drove the Jews out of the kingdom. Seventeenth-century French
scholars had considerable interest in the Middle Ages, but they did not develop one
single view of that age: Nathan Edelman, Attitudes of Seventeenth-Century France
toward the Middle Ages (New York, 1946).
69 Cited in Raymond de Roover, Gresham on Foreign Exchange: An Essay on Early
English Mercantilism with the Text of Sir Thomas Gresham’s Memorandum for the
ridion sive manuale confessariorum et poenintentium (1552) (Rome, 1584), 467 (chap.
17, no. 284). Tommaso de Vio’s De Cambiis (written in 1499 and first published in
1506) is now included in Thomas de Vio Cardinalis Caietanus (1469 –1534), Scripta
Philosophica: Opuscola Oeconomico-socialia, ed. P. P. Zammit, OP (Rome, 1934),
91–133, chap. 5, 110 –13. Elsewhere, Cleirac also mentions Charles du Moulin, the
critic of usury who preceded Calvin.
71 Cleirac (Usance de négoce, 48 –54, 153–54) regards both reexchange bills and the
underlined it with his (less likely, her) pen (BMB, P.F. 46485 [Rés.]). Several
successive authors returned to the brevity and/or secrecy of bills of exchange: Jacques
Savary, Le parfait négociant (Paris, 1675), 121; Jean Moulinier, Le grand tresor des
marchands, banquiers et negocians, des financiers (Bordeaux, 1704), 78; Paul Jacob
Marperger, Neu-eröffnetes Handels-Bericht (Hamburg, 1709), 491; Jacques Savary des
word retaillé denoted those who suffered a surgical amputation. See Denis Diderot and
Jean d’Alembert, Encyclopédie ou Dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des
métiers, 17 vols. (Paris, 1751– 65), 14:198. On the word abominable, see also n. 32 and
Bracciolini’s quotation below in the text. To call Jews infamous (see also Cleirac,
Usance du négoce, 6) was to resurrect the medieval notion that they lacked fama, i.e.,
public trust. In Usance de négoce, 29, Cleirac even invokes Jews’ perfidia, the ultimate
Christian theological accusation against Jews who refused Christ’s redemption, as the
original sin at the roots of bills of exchanges (Jews’ perfidia is mentioned in Canon 67
of the Fourth Lateran Council, which is cited in Cleirac, Us et coustumes, 2nd ed.
[Bordeaux, 1661], 220).
74 Cleirac, Us et coustumes, 226. The adjective and noun cahorsin (in various
spellings and languages, including the German Kawertschen) derived from the town of
Cahors, not far from Bordeaux, whose merchants and bankers were ill reputed for their
moneylending practices. See de Roover, Money, Banking and Credit, 99; Kurt Grun-
wald, “Lombards, Cahorsins and Jews,” Journal of European Economic History 4
(1975): 393–98. Both Dante and Boccaccio use caorsino for usurer (Dante, Inferno,
canto 11.50; Boccaccio, Esposizioni sopra la Comedia di Dante, chap. 11, par. 39).
The word continued to appear in French dictionaries of the nineteenth century (e.g.,
“Corsin,” in Émile Littré, Dictionnaire de la langue française [1872–77]) but fell
increasingly out of use during the seventeenth century, as suggested by a keyword
search in The Making of the Modern World. Here again Cleirac stands out for his
recourse to medieval terminology.
75 Cleirac, Us et coustumes, 226. Note that Bernard of Clairveau (d. 1153) referred
to Christian usurers as those who “jew worse than the Jews themselves” (peius
judaizare). Cited in Robert Chazan, Medieval Stereotypes and Modern Antisemitism
(Berkeley, 1997), 25.
defined as the antithesis of Jews and yet, under certain circumstances, may become
indistinguishable from them: Shakespeare and the Jews (New York, 1996), 5.
77 Myriam Yardeni, “Antagonismes nationaux et propagande durant les guerres de
religion,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 13 (1966): 273– 84, 277– 80.
Suspicion ran particularly high during the Spanish siege of Bordeaux in 1596 –97;
Hertzberg, The French Enlightenment, 17.
78 The stated goal of Cleirac’s Usance du négoce is to trace the origins of bills of
exchange without offending “honorable bankers,” who are said to contribute greatly to
commerce, that is, to “the reciprocal and amicable communication between nations,”
and who should thus not be confused with “Jews, Lombards, Cahorsins, and those who
have gone bankrupt” (2).
79 Jochen Hoock, “Le phénomène Savary et l’innovation en matière commerciale en
80 The preparatory work of the committee charged with drafting this legislation is
lost, except for the session of February 4, 1671, when usury was debated. Sorbonne
theologians, who were intransigent opponents of usury, were consulted. Their views
clashed with those of some committee members, who were inclined to introduce an
article setting a ceiling for moderate usury (5 percent). In the end, it was decided to
omit all references to usury. Henri Lévy-Bruhl, “Un document inédit sur la préparation
de l’Ordonnance sur le Commerce de 1673,” Revue historique du droit français et
étranger 10 (1931): 649 – 81. See also n. 25.
81 Savary, Le parfait négociant, 121 (bk. 1, chap. 19, “De l’origine des lettres de
change, & de leur utilité pour le commerce”). The passages about the origins of bills
of exchange appeared, unchanged, in all subsequent editions of Savary’s book as well
as in its translations.
82 Ibid., 122.
316
Philémon-Louis
Bléville, Thomas de Le banquier françois 1724 Paris French BE N
Bouthillier, Thomas Le banquier françois 1727 Paris French BE N
de
317
Ludovici, Carl Eröffnete Akademie der 1752–56 Leipzig German MI N
Günther Kaufleute
de Forbonnais, Elémens du commerce 1754 Leiden, but French BE N
François Paris
318
of Trade
Steuart, Sir James An Inquiry into the Principles of 1767 London English BE N
Political Œconomy
319
la Serra
Origny, Antoine Dictionnaire des origins 1777 Paris French BE⫹MI N
Robinet, Jean Dictionnaire universel 1777–83 London French BE Y V/S
320
Büsch, Johann Handlungsbibliothek 1785–97 Hamburg German BE Y M
Georg
Baldasseroni, Delle assicurazioni marittime 1786 Florence Italian MI Y S⫹S
321
Georg Darstellung der Handlung in
deren mannigfaltigen
Geschäften
France doubted the odd account. Already in 1693, Dupuis de la Serra’s L’art
des lettres de change, a serious work devoted to bills of exchange that enjoyed
considerable popularity, expressed reservations on the grounds that no inven-
tion can take eight centuries to emerge and that the medieval expulsions were
an unlikely occasion for Jews to thrive.83
The transmission and evolution of the legend across Europe through its
reformulation by Sombart will be the object of a separate study.84 Suffice it to
say that the legend’s malleability afforded it more than one interpretation in
the eighteenth century and ensured that it was invoked not only with regard to
issues of good and bad credit but also in broader debates on the relationship
between commerce and toleration. Montesquieu stands out for both embracing
the legend and interpreting it as casting Jews in a positive light. In a chapter
of The Spirit of the Laws entitled “How Commerce Broke through the
Barbarism of Europe” (bk. 2, chap. 20), the French thinker describes European
Jews as a group associated “with the most shameful usury” and subjected to
the violent caprices of tyrannical rulers during the Middle Ages. But he also
claims that Jews “invented letters of exchange” and, in so doing, set in motion
the process by which European trade “was able to avoid violence and maintain
itself everywhere.”85 He thus sees Jews as instrumental in the emergence of le
doux commerce, the cornerstone of European civilization.
83 Jacques Dupuis de la Serra, L’art des lettres de change suivant l’usage des plus
célèbres places de l’Europe (Paris, 1693), 6 –7. Note that after 1697, Dupuis de la
Serra’s treatise was regularly reprinted together with the many re-editions of Savary’s
Le parfait négociant (Jeannin, Marchands d’Europe, 378)—another indication that
factual consistency was not always a priority in the ars mercatoria. Doubts on the
legend had already been cast, but only concerning the origins of marine insurance: Jean
Toubeau, Les institutes du droit consulaire (Paris, 1682), 586, 645.
84 For Werner Sombart (The Jews and Modern Capitalism, 65), “it is fairly certain
that the use of circulating endorsable bills in Venice must have been first commenced
by Jews, seeing that we know that nearly all bill-broking in the Adriatic city in the 16th
century was in their hands.”
85 Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, 388 – 89. As a member of Bordeaux’s
parlement and of the city’s literary academy, Montesquieu had easy access to Cleirac’s
works. His footnote corroborating the statement that Jews invented bills of exchange
does not cite Cleirac but follows him closely: “It is known that under Philip Augustus
and Philip the Tall, the Jews, driven out of France took refuge in Lombardy and that
there they gave the foreign traders and travelers secret letters for those to whom they
had entrusted their effects in France, with which their debts were paid” (389 n. 141).
The expression “secret letters” appears in Cleirac but not in Savary. Montesquieu’s
authoritativeness was such that factual evidence had to be marshaled in order to
disprove his story. Giovanni Targioni Tozzetti did that much in his Relazioni d’alcuni
viaggi fatti in diverse parti della Toscana . . ., 2nd ed. (Florence, 1768 – 69), 2:62– 63.
Among those who followed Montesquieu most closely was a French Huguenot living
in Berlin during the 1760s, Louis de Beausobre, author of Introduction générale, 220
n. 1. Citing the legend as relayed by de Beausobre, Myriam Yardeni considers the
It was with pride that at least one eighteenth-century Jewish author, the
father of British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli, revived the story.86 At the
opposite end of the spectrum stands the advocate of Jewish emancipation at
the onset of the French Revolution, the abbé Grégoire. While he was among
those who argued that Jewish hyperspecialization in commerce and finance
was the result of external oppression rather than innate proclivity, he none-
theless depicted Jewish financial dealings in sinister terms and in this guise
reiterated that Jews invented bills of exchange.87
More commonly, the legend appeared in merchants’ manuals, even if,
backed by Montesquieu, it also made its way into highbrow texts such as Sir
James Steuart’s An Inquiry into the Principles of Political Economy (1767)
and the inaugural lecture delivered by Cesare Beccaria, that most well-known
Italian Enlightenment thinker, on the occasion of his appointment as professor
of political economy in Milan in 1769.88 It was often cited alongside com-
peting hypotheses about the origin of bills of exchange—the two most com-
mon pointing either to Florentine expatriates (or Italians in general)89 or, as a
rationalist explanation made inroads, to the necessities of commerce and
human industriousness.90 All in all, the legend’s resilience is striking. Like so
many other texts, Diderot and d’Alembert’s Encyclopédie cited Giovanni
Villani and Savary and expressed skepticism but did not bother to verify
passage to be exemplary of a broader trend whereby the image of Jews among French
Huguenots became “more level-headed and perhaps more objective” after their forced
exile in 1685. While there is no doubt that Beausobre’s characterization of Jews is
remarkably shorn of debasing accusations, the legend he cites is hardly “a factual
report” (Yardeni, Anti-Jewish Mentalities, 246). Here is an example of new readings
that a better understanding of the legend can open up.
86 Isaac Disraeli, Vaurien, or, Sketches of the Times, 2 vols. (London, 1797), 2:233.
87 Henri Grégoire, Essai sur la régénération physique, morale et politique des Juifs
dolid, 1542), fol. lv; Ludovico Guicciardini, Descrittione . . . di tutti i Paesi Bassi
(Antwerp, 1567), 117; Bernardo Davanzati, Notizia de’ cambj (1588), in Notizie
mercantili delle monete e de’ cambi (Venice, 1840), 33; Matthias Bode, Dissertatio de
cambiis (Marburg, 1646), 14. This argument became more common in the eighteenth
century. See, e.g., Carl Günter Ludovici, Grundriß eines vollständigen Kaufmanns-
Systems (Leipzig, 1768), 194; James Allan Park, A System of the Law of Marine
Insurances (London, 1787), iii.
no surprise that educated professionals like Cleirac, who witnessed the everyday
expansion of bills of exchange, were both fascinated and alarmed by these
unfathomable credit instruments. Not only was it necessary to reconcile their use
with the moral tenets of the Catholic Church: it was also imperative to reckon with
the mystery of financial dealings themselves. The asymmetry of information
between practitioners and observers was likely most acute in the early seventeenth
century, when the transferability of bills of exchange began to spread.
Bordeaux also housed a sizable and commercially active community of New
Christians whose allegiance to Catholicism was for the most part tenuous. If less
economically powerful than Flemish, Dutch, and English merchants, Iberian New
Christians were among the foreigners most active in long-distance trade. In the
absence of an Inquisition tribunal, after 1550 Bordeaux and other towns in its
region (notably Saint-Esprit-lès-Bayonne, Saint Jean de Luz, Bidache, and Pey-
rehorade) became magnets of converso and marrano migration.95 Contraband
went along with the movement of people and goods across the Franco-Spanish
border. Some families turned Bordeaux into a temporary stop on their way to
Livorno, Amsterdam, and other Sephardic capitals, while more than a few took up
residence.96 In 1636, 260 Spanish and Portuguese lived in Bordeaux, and in the
following decades they grew in number.97
During the 1630s, anti-Jewish polemics were rampant on both sides of the
Pyrenees. A counselor to the French king mistrusted the Catholicism of the
Portuguese of the Southwest.98 Opponents of the Spanish plenipotentiary count-
duke of Olivares’s foreign and domestic policies railed against the alleged impact
of his protection of Portuguese New Christian bankers on the moral fiber of the
Habsburg monarchy and society. Francisco Quevedo was a particularly venomous
stock market, but this absence was common to the majority of European commercial
hubs.
95 Periods of relative safety alternated with others (especially between 1615 and
1625) when the royal protection of the New Christians of Bordeaux weakened. Gérard
Nahon, Juifs et Judaïsme à Bordeaux (Bordeaux, 2003), 39 – 43, 46 – 47. Converso and
marrano were terms commonly used in Spain and Portugal, respectively, in reference
to New Christians who were regarded as crypto-Jews. Scholars today employ them
without any hint at the originally derogative connotation.
96 Israel, Diasporas, 120 –22, 146; David L. Graizbord, Souls in Dispute: Converso
Identities in Iberia and the Jewish Diaspora, 1580 –1700 (Philadelphia, 2004); Natalia
Muchnik, “Des intrus en pays d’Inquisition: Présence et activités des juifs dans
l’Espagne du XVIIe siècle,” Revue des études juives 164 (2005): 119 –56.
97 Nahon, Juifs et Judaïsme, 47.
98 Pierre de l’Ancre, L’incredulité et mescréance du sortilège pleinement convaincue
(Paris, 1622), discussed in Nahon, Juifs et Judaïsme, 49. On the French anti-Judaic
literature of the seventeenth century, see also J. Caro Baroja, Los Judíos en la España
moderna y contemporánea, 3rd ed., 3 vols. (Madrid, 1986), 1:270; Hertzberg, The
French Enlightenment, 28 – 48.
voice in this crowd. He mixed Catholic accusatory clichés about Jews’ handling
of money with specific references to an alleged conspiracy of Jewish and New
Christian bankers to exploit the financial needs of various European states.99
Meanwhile, the Spanish Inquisition renewed its campaign against alleged crypto-
Jews and held some exemplary trials ending with brutal executions, including
several that targeted individuals with close connections to the Southwest of
France, like the Saraiva brothers.100 After Olivares’s fall from power in 1643, with
royal protection weakened and Inquisitorial persecution on the rise, more refugees
took the road to Bordeaux.
There the privileges granted to “Portuguese and Spanish merchants” protected
the refugees against the king’s right to seize the property of a deceased foreigner
(droit d’aubain) and even allowed them to acquire the status of bourgeois—a
fiscal and legal condition which, in theory if not in practice, put them on equal
footing with someone like Cleirac.101 Religious dissimulation was the norm but,
as the Portuguese Jesuit Antonio Viera acknowledged, “in popular parlance,
among most of the European nations, ‘Portuguese’ is confused with ‘Jew.’”102
Only in 1723 was a Jewish community officially recognized in Bordeaux. Until
then, a mixture of inclusion and suspicion surrounded the presence in town of
New Christians. In 1647, the year when Us et coustumes was published, the
French diplomatic envoy in Lisbon invited Cardinal Mazarin to place the region
of Bordeaux under surveillance because it was infested by “the Jewish plague.”103
We cannot be sure how the presence of New Christians affected Cleirac’s view
of Jews, but a telling detail surfaces from his hazy biographical profile. In the
Aseguinolaza and Santiago Fernández Mosquera (Barcelona, 1996), 34 –35, and his La
hora de todos y la fortuna con seso, ed. Jean Bourg, Pierre Dupont, and Pierre Geneste
(Madrid, 1987), 339. Quevedo explicitly targeted Olivares’s policies. Other Iberian
authors were less politicized but nonetheless virulently Judeophobic. Vicente da Costa
Mattos turned a common argument on its head when he advocated the expulsion of
“apostate Jews” and “Judaizing Jews” from Portugal in the name of “the reason of
state,” in Breve discurso contra a heretica perfidia do Iudaismo (Lisbon, 1622), fols.
183r–186v. The work also appeared in a Castilian translation by Father Diego Gavilan
Vela, Discurso contra los Judios (Salamanca, 1631). On usury as a theme in Spanish
anti-Jewish polemics of the period, see Caro Baroja, Los Judíos, 2:27; and Juan Ignacio
Pulido Serrano, Injurias a Cristo: Religión, política y antijudaísmo en el siglo XVII
(análisis de las corrientes antijudías durante la Edad Moderna) (Alcalá Henares,
2002).
100 Caro Baroja, Los Judíos, 2:67– 68, 74. In 1638, a Portuguese marrano handed to
the Toledo Inquisition (which had jurisdiction over Madrid) a list of 155 crypto-Jews
residing in or traveling back and forth to the Southwest of France (3:364 –71).
101 Cleirac obtained the status of bourgeois in 1616: Le livre des bourgeois de
in Early Modern Europe,” Past and Present 143 (1994): 48 –76, 60.
103 Nahon, Juifs et Judaïsme, 48.
preface to his Usance du négoce, Cleirac recounts that he was appointed a royal
officer (procureur du roi) during the lengthy and delicate negotiations that
followed the shipwreck in the gulf of Bordeaux of eight Portuguese ships return-
ing from India in January 1627.104 It was a shipwreck of extraordinary propor-
tions: two enormous vessels loaded with diamonds, pepper, cloves, Indian tex-
tiles, ebony, ivory, Chinese furniture and porcelain, Asian spices, and other luxury
goods, as well as six armed galleons with some of the finest Portuguese nobility
on board. A Portuguese historian of the time described it as the worst loss Portugal
had sustained since king Sebastian’s disappearance in Morocco (1578) had led to
the country’s annexation to the kingdom of Castile and Aragon (1580 –1640).105
The stakes in this disaster were high for both the French and the Spanish crowns.
In late January 1627, Richelieu was seeking to enlist Spain’s support against the
English and the Huguenots at La Rochelle.106 In order to succeed (which he did),
he had to accommodate Spanish claims over whatever of the precious cargo (and
the cannons in particular) could be recovered from the poor peasants looting the
shores and oppose the claims of Jean-Louis Nogaret de La Vallette, duc
d’Épernon (1544 –1642), the all-powerful governor of the Garonne region, as well
as those of a few feudal lords who still retained power in the patchy kingdom of
France.107 South of the Pyrenees, in January 1627, Olivares sidelined the Genoese
bankers who had been financing the Spanish public debt for seventy years in order
to begin recruiting Portuguese New Christians in their place. He could not risk
alienating the latter’s interests, which extended over much of the cargo from the
two sunken commercial ships.108
and the coastal lords are documented throughout vol. 2 of Pierre Grillon, ed., Les
papiers de Richelieu: Section politique intérieure, correspondence et papiers d’État, 6
vols. (Paris, 1975– 85). Direct correspondence between the Spanish and French courts
over this matter can be found in Archives des Affaires étrangères, Paris, Correspon-
dence politique: Espagne, 15, fol. 67r; and Archivo General de Simancas (hereafter
AGS), Secretaría de Estado (Francia) (hereafter SEF), K.1459, nos. 33, 40. In his
memoirs, Richelieu recalled this tragic event as evidence of Spain’s supremacy on the
sea at that time: Mémoires du Cardinal de Richelieu, 10 vols. (Paris, 1907–31), 7:25.
108 Surviving documents produced by royal authorities on both sides are predictably
Cleirac was not among the top-ranked French officials appointed by Richelieu
to resolve this most delicate affair. But whatever role he played, he sided with the
royal authorities and had to confront two issues that are reflected in his writings.
The first was the need to devise a clearer set of maritime laws that would facilitate
the resolution of conflicts over property rights. Rights over sunken cargoes were
traditionally governed by customary norms (droit de naufrage) that privileged
local coastal powers. Forgotten by most scholars of French absolutism, maritime
issues such as shipwrecks were not beyond Richelieu’s purview.109 Moreover,
although we know little about Cleirac, during this episode he likely saw the
Portuguese merchants’ economic influence up close and could easily have blown
it out of proportion.
This major incident is not the only reason why mid-seventeenth-century
France, and Bordeaux in particular, offered fertile ground for the idea that Jews
may have been the first to introduce bills of exchange. The presence of crypto-
Jews heightened the anxieties created by the erosion of social hierarchies caused
by the expansion of commercial credit. In France, the stigma against trade and
manual labor was even stronger than it was elsewhere in Europe. In the sixteenth
century, a law (loi de dérogeance) sanctioned the loss of privileges, including
dearly held fiscal privileges, for those noblemen who “trafficked in merchan-
dise.”110 This prohibition came under attack during the second half of the sixteenth
century and was formally abolished in 1629 (Code Michaud).111 But laws rarely
65, and ADG, C.3904, fols. 55, 57, 116. These hints are congruent with the role of
Portuguese New Christians in the private trade with India uncovered by James C.
Boyajian, The Portuguese Trade in Asia under the Habsburgs, 1580 –1640 (Baltimore,
1993).
109 Following the 1627 shipwreck, the cardinal commissioned a study to reform the
French droit de naufrage (Archives Nationales, Paris, AB XIX, 3192, dossier 3). See
also Gouron, L’Amirauté, 64 – 65, 302; Bercé, “L’affaire des caraques”; Erik Thomson,
“France’s Grotius Moment? Hugo Grotius and Cardinal Richelieu’s Commercial
Statecraft,” French History 21 (2007): 377–94.
110 In his 1610 A Treatise of Orders, the jurist Charles Loyseau put merchants one
step below judges and lawyers in the non-noblemen hierarchy and emphasized that
commerce derogated from nobility. Charles Loyseau, A Treatise of Orders and Plain
Dignities, ed. and trans. Howell A. Lloyd (Cambridge, 1994), 110 –11, 178 –79.
111 Richelieu’s principal objective in abolishing this legislation was to encourage
change society overnight. Indeed, the prejudice against commerce and mechanical
arts persisted and represents one of the great cultural and social struggles of the
Old Regime.
It is not a coincidence that the legend discussed here appears in works that
made a strong plea in favor of the nobility of commerce. In the preface to his Le
parfait négociant, Savary insisted that an aristocratic pedigree ought not to
impede a career in commerce. The descendent of a family that had lost its noble
status after engaging in commerce since the sixteenth century, he had accumu-
lated a considerable fortune as a wholesale merchant before joining the royal
administration.112 Savary meant his work not only to have pedagogical purposes
but also to legitimize the merchant profession as both useful and honorable (“si
utile & si honorable”). He praised the quest of profit and the desire to better
oneself (“le desir de s’élever”).113 These new principles clashed with the old
aristocracy’s wish to harden social hierarchies following the rise of moneyed
elites and legal professionals during the sixteenth century.114 Even advocates of
the nobility’s involvement in commerce had to compromise. A certain François
Marchetty of Marseille, for example, suggested means of distinguishing noble-
men engaged in long-distance trade (“nobles marchands”) from regular merchants
(“simples bourgeois & des autres negociants”).115 Rather than subsiding, the
conflict had escalated a full century after Cleirac’s death. In a short treatise of
considerable fame, an obscure abbot named Coyer (1707– 82) praised the bene-
ficial effects of overseas trade and ignited a flurry of debates for exhorting
aristocrats to abandon ancient preconceptions and engage in it.116
Elites in Renaissance France (Chicago, 1977). By the late seventeenth century, elite
merchant-bakers (négociants) appropriated the notion of aristocratic “honor” to dis-
tance themselves from ordinary traders. Junko Thérèse Takeda, Between Commerce
and Crown: Marseille and the Early Modern Mediterranean (Baltimore, 2011),
50 –51.
115 François Marchetty, Discours sur le négoce des gentilshommes de la ville de
1756). On 156, following Montesquieu (The Spirit of the Laws, 388), Coyer decries the
fact that during the Middle Ages commerce was left solely in the hands of Jews, who
were “a nation covered with infamy.” But unlike Montesquieu, he does not praise Jews
for the invention of bills of exchange. On the debate sparked by Coyer’s short treatise,
see Jay M. Smith, “Social Categories, the Language of Patriotism, and the Origins of
In short, to establish a culture in which the pursuit of profit was compatible with
older notions of honor and merit proved neither simple nor fast. Financial cred-
itworthiness did not ensure social reputation. Needless to say, anxieties about
money’s power to corrode the moral and social fabric were hardly new. In
mid-fifteenth-century Florence, debating the meaning of nobility, the humanist
Poggio Bracciolini had one of his interlocutors raise the specter of what would
happen if “even moneylenders, no matter how wicked and abominable, would be
noble just by being rich and holding public office.”117 Two centuries later, it had
become even more difficult to pinpoint wicked and abominable moneylenders.
Petty traders and the urban middling sorts, not just expert and recognizable
international traders, had begun to use bills of exchange.118 These credit instru-
ments became more and more esoteric precisely at the time when their use was
spreading socially and geographically and when legal norms and social conven-
tions were eroding old hierarchies.
The status of New Christians in Bordeaux further blurred social and religious
boundaries. As happened anywhere in Christian Europe that Iberian refugees were
allowed to settle, the men shaved their beards (against the prescription of Jewish
law) and dressed in ways that made them indistinguishable from their Christian
peers. In the streets and on the docks of Bordeaux, individual New Christians
were undoubtedly known as such to everyone, but their legal identity allowed
them not only to conduct commercial and financial operations on the same terms
as did local Catholics but also to intermarry and climb up the social ladder.
The last two centuries of the Old Regime brought about a crisis in social
legibility. Nobles could now be merchants and merchants (including New Chris-
tians) could become nobles.119 New Christians’ perceived dissimulation of their
true religious allegiance added new dimensions to this fluidity. In this context, the
the French Revolution: The Debate over Noblesse Commerçante,” Journal of Modern
History 72 (2000): 339 –74; and John Shovlin, “Toward a Reinterpretation of Revo-
lutionary Anti-nobilism: The Political Economy of Honor in the Old Regime,” Journal
of Modern History 72 (2000): 35– 66. After the French Revolution, by social conven-
tion if not by law, commerce was still incompatible with the highest public offices;
J. M. Pardessus, Cours de droit commercial, 4 vols. (Paris, 1814 –16), 1:64.
117 Poggio Bracciolini, “On Nobility,” in Humanism and Liberty: Writings on
Freedom from Fifteenth-Century Florence, trans. and ed. Renée Neu Watkins (Co-
lumbia, SC, 1978), 121– 48, 123.
118 On the diffusion of bills of exchange across social strata in the seventeenth
century, see Jeannin, Marchands d’Europe, 293; and Romuald Szramkiewicz, Histoire
du droit des affaires (Paris, 1989), 173. For eighteenth-century Paris and the appre-
hension that this diffusion generated, see Kessler, A Revolution in Commerce, 193–
231.
119 At least one instance of a Jew acquiring a noble title is known to have occurred
The 2008 global financial crisis revealed that even our modern regulatory systems
struggle to find ways to separate noxious derivatives from the healthy stocks that
sustain our hopes for a comfortable retirement. The need to identify legal, social,
and cultural criteria to distinguish between financial deals that are legitimate,
beneficial, and honorable and those that are shady, harmful, and stigmatizing has
been one of the great, if Sisyphean, struggles of European civilization since the
thirteenth century.
I have sought here to bring back to life one seventeenth-century iteration of this
struggle that had fallen into oblivion. By all accounts, the legend analyzed here
was neither the only nor the most common way of speaking about Jews in
Christian Europe at the time. Nor is every ill-founded legend worth a close
investigation. And yet we are struck by the many well-known and lesser authors
who grappled with a fanciful story conceived by an obscure French provincial
lawyer. Upon closer examination, the legend’s circulation exposes facets of the
transformation of European commercial society that are otherwise hard to
discern, such as the evolution and persistence of medieval Christian views
of Jewish credit in the early modern period and the coexistence of mer-
cantile pragmatism and religious prejudice.
We are accustomed to reading about the power of commerce to generate more
tolerant and secular attitudes. Indeed, in pockets of Europe during the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries it was not difficult to find Christian and Jewish bankers
endorsing bills of exchange to each other on the basis of proven individual credit
solvency. But the legend Cleirac put into circulation reminds us that these forms
of business cooperation across religious groups did not necessarily translate into
more benign collective views of Jews. More to the point, the tale of a medieval
Jewish invention of bills of exchange appeared precisely when New Christians
and Jews were integrating more and more into the everyday fabric of commercial
society. And it figured not in doctrinaire disquisitions about usury or in texts that
decried the corrupting power of commerce (of which there was no scarcity in
seventeenth- and eighteenth-century France) but in the very literature that sought
to give not only technical tools but also ethical, political, and cultural foundations
to that same commercial society.
Cleirac’s Jews bear no resemblance to the “port Jews” of recent historiograph-
ical fame, harbingers of modernity, secularism, and acculturation in the century or
so before the advent of legal emancipation.120 On the contrary, they are prisoners
of a medieval past that conjures up images of Jewish usury reminiscent of the
legacy of medieval figurations of Jews in the early modern European imagination.
In the ars mercatoria and the political economy of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, however, the entrenched association of medieval Jews with usury was
shed of its most violent overtones, notably ritual murder.121 It blended together
old, medieval stereotypes of Jews as usurers with new, or at least magnified, early
modern fears of Jews as domineering in long-distance trade and international
finance. It did not wrap Jews in an exclusively negative mantle; rather, it attributed
to them a didactic function. By depicting Jewish bankers as sly and insatiable, the
legend expressed a critique of the expanding boundaries of early modern Euro-
pean commercial society by setting an elusive symbolic standard for honorable
banking activities.
Even in Montesquieu, whose Spirit of the Laws put a positive spin on the
allegation that Jews invented bills of exchange, we detect a lingering ambiva-
lence. The French thinker famously lashed out against the Inquisition and de-
nounced the absurdity of claims that medieval Jews poisoned wells.122 However,
in his Persian Letters (1721) he let his fictional character Usbek rehearse a tired
and less than flattering cliché: “wherever there is money, there are Jews.”123 This
and other passages were rendered familiar by the widespread Christian trope of
Jews’ “tenacious obstinacy,” which insisted, among other things, on Jews’ im-
mutability as eternal merchants (and greedy ones to boot) and which eighteenth-
century French philosophes (Voltaire most notoriously) did little to dispel.124
Paradoxically, in Bordeaux before 1723 Jews were both obstinate and
120 Lois C. Dubin, The Port Jews of Habsburg Trieste: Absolutist Politics and
Enlightenment Culture (Stanford, CA, 1999); David Sorkin, “The Port Jew: Notes
towards a Social Type,” Journal of Jewish Studies 50 (1999): 87–97.
121 On the connection between Jewish moneylending and ritual murder, see Kenneth
Stow, “The Good of the Church, the Good of the State: The Popes and Jewish Money,”
in Christianity and Judaism: Studies in Church History, ed. Diana Wood (Oxford,
1992), 237–52, 241; David Biale, Blood and Belief: The Circulation of a Symbol
between Jews and Christians (Berkeley, 2007), 175–79.
122 Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, 193, 490 –91.
123 Montesquieu, The Persian Letters, trans. Margaret Mauldon (Oxford, 2008), 78
(letter 58). In the same letter, Montesquieu has Usbek repeat another cliché, this time
about the unchanging nature of Jews, regardless of the environment in which they live:
“nothing resembles an Oriental Jew more than a European Jew” (78). But Usbek also
claims that “Christians are beginning to abandon that spirit of intolerance which
formerly inspired them” (79) and thus to tolerate Jews more benignly.
124 Schechter, Obstinate Hebrews.