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1 The Role of Money in medieval Christian-Jewish Relations Money with its connotations of materialism and greed has played an integral part in medieval Christian-Jewish relations. The concept of materialism or carnality as a marker between those who followed the Law of Moses and those who followed the teaching of Christ can already be found in St Paul’s second letter to Corinthians (3:6) where he wrote that the letter killed, while the spirit quickened. Whatever Paul himself meant, from the time of the Fathers of the Church, Christian theologians such as Augustine, identified Jews and Judaism with material matters and Christians with matters of the spirit. As the economy of western Europe expanded from the eleventh century, Christian theologians, moralists and canon lawyers were ever more confronted with the realities of a profit economy and capital growth through transactions involving the charge of what we now call interest, but at that time was deemed to be usury. Notwithstanding the fact that Christian merchants and, increasingly, Christian bankers from Italy and Cahors were heavily involved in moneylending, it was the Jews who were stereotyped as usurers par excellence. This paper will examine how anti-Jewish stereotypes evolved in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries through the conflation of Christian theological conceptions about Judaism with the exigences of a developing profit economy from the 1150s. I hope to show that deeper understanding of these economically, inspired stereotypes can help us recognise some aspects of modern-day anti-Semitism. A striking example of the conflation of theology and money comes from a Parisian moralised Bible, Oxford MS Bodleian 270b from 1234/5.1 Moralised Bibles were picture books which summarised the Bible through paired images. One image told the tale; the other

2 revealed its moral. The images were accompanied by short texts to guide readers in understanding the pictures as they were meant to be by the creators of the Bible. The story of Cain and Abel is presented in five paired roundels (fol. 7v-8r). The sequence starts with their birth with the non-biblical addition that Adam favoured Abel over Cain. The moral meaning of this is explained as Christ loving good Christians and separating Jews from holy Church on account of their disbelief. The image depicts two Jews holding money bags (fol. 7vd). The next image shows God accepting Abel’s offering of a lamb and rejecting Cain’s offering of mangy grains. This is interpreted as God rejecting the offerings of Jews ‘which they make of plunder (rapina) and usury (usura)’, represented by money bags. Abel’s offering of his best lambs signifies good Christians who make offerings of their souls to God through good deeds (fol. 8ra). This is followed by the depiction of Cain inviting Abel to go out with him to the field. The is seen as denoting Judas’ betrayal of Christ (fol. 8rb). Cain’s killing of Abel is explained as the Jews crucifying Christ. The image is not as bloodthirsty as it could have been. The figure piercing Jesus’ side is bearded and wears a round soft hat and is probably meant to represent a Jew, but other figures in the sequence seem much more profoundly Jewish than he (fol. 8rc). The sequence closes with the image of the Lord cursing Cain which is interpreted as Christ cursing ‘the Jews and all infideles (‘unbelievers’) who like them hurry to eternal damnation’. Between them the depicted Jews hold a money pouch, a sacrificial lamb and a scroll held up as a banner. The final image would seem to sum up the sequence’s depiction of Jews as a people who crucified Christ and who combine a love of money with adherence to the Law and animal sacrifices, in short, those who embody the carnality of Cain. Juxtaposed to Jews are good Christians who walk in the footsteps of Abel. 2 Closely related to the Oxford manuscript are the two codices which lie at the heart of Sarah Lipton’s seminal study of the depiction of Jews in moralised Bibles: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, codex 1179 and 2554, which date to the 1220s. Codex

3 1179 is in Latin, and it seems to have been created for King Louis VIII of France. The other one is in French and seems to have been made for someone at the royal court. Lipton has connected the fabrication of the Bibles with the activities of the Parisian schoolmen of the period whose sources would have included the Glossa Ordinaria, (the Ordinary Gloss), the widely disseminated commentary on the Bible which was produced in the course of the twelfth century. The Glossa Ordinaria provided its readers with a basic overview of commentaries on the Bible which had circulated for centuries and were mostly derived from patristic sources such as Ambrose, Augustine, and Jerome, transmitted through ninth-century collections. The comments were placed in the margins of the manuscript or between the lines of the biblical text. Lipton’s analysis of the moralised Bibles has shown how many of the anti-Jewish images identified all usurers with Jews, and all Jews as usurers. What we have here, in other words, is evidence of ideas about Jews and money circulating in the Parisian schools being disseminated to the king and members of the royal court through words and images. This was the Capetian court whose kings were expanding their influence, if not direct jurisdiction over the Jews in their kingdom throughout the thirteenth century.3 Comparing the Cain and Abel sequence we have just discussed with the ones in the Vienna manuscripts the following points are of interest. The Oxford manuscript aligned Cain’s miserable offering with Jews presenting offerings of plunder and usury. Plunder and usury are represented in the image as money bags. The Latin Vienna codex has Jews offering the ‘vanities of this world, greed and usuries rather than themselves’. The Jews are holding a money pouch.4 The French Vienna Codex speaks of ‘their confiscations (fraimture) and avarice (couvoitise)’. The Jewish offerings are pictured as a cracked bowl and a frog/toad.5 On folio 29r another frog/toad appears, and it is seen as representing: ‘the usurer who is swollen by usury and by covetousness’. The accompanying image is of a big bearded fellow with a puffed up chest and powerful arms with two money bags hanging from his shoulders and a third in his right hand.

4 He is wearing a soft cap and is probably meant to imply a Jew without being one overtly.6 In the Latin Vienna Codex toads are likened to ‘great usurers’ (magni feneratores).7 In the accompanying image, one figure who could be a Jew is stuffing two money bags into a chest, another mean-faced usurer is brandishing a knife, the third is an arrogant figure sitting on a chair holding a money bag with one hand and a kind of sceptre raised in the other. The fourth is a pathetic figure bent over double in supplication at the foot of the armed usurer. To my mind, the four figures bring out four crucial aspects of the moralised Bible’s views on practising usury: the greed of the usurer, the equivocation between usury and plunder, the oppressive nature of exacting usury from borrowers, and the benefit drawn by grandees of usurious practices.8 We shall examine these aspects in the course of this paper. The connection between toads and usury was made by another source which has interesting things to say about usury and, indeed, Jews. This is the Dialogue of Miracles (1219-23), a teaching manual written by Abbot Caesarius of Heisterbach in the form of a dialogue between a novice and a monk. The monk’s instruction is delivered by way of pithy stories or exempla.9 In one exemplum, Caesarius told of a usurer of Metz who requested to be buried with a money pouch with coins. When intruders broke open the grave, they were horrified to see two toads in the coffin. The toad perched on the opening of the pouch was taking coins out of the purse and giving them to the second toad sitting on the corpse’s chest. That toad was putting the coins into the dead man’s heart.10 In another exemplum Caesarius related what happened when a contrite usurer in Cologne tried to gain God’s forgiveness by donating everything he had to the poor. The priest invited him to donate some of his loaves of bread and place them in a chest. The next day the loaves had turned into toads. This, according to his priest showed God’s displeasure with alms donated out of usurious gains. The similarity to Cain’s offering depicted as a toad in the French Vienna codex is striking. The usurer was told he had to lie in the chest with these creatures overnight if he wished to obtain salvation.

5 At this point Caesarius used the word vermes [worms or maggots]. He appeared to be using the word as a general term for reptile, the word used by the English translators of the text, even though toads are amphibians. This would explain his interchanging of the word bufo (toad) with vermis. The next day only his bones remained; they were interred in the porch of the church and no living toad could make their way past them.11 As for Jews, Caesarius included a tale of Jews who rented a house from a knight to celebrate the Feasts of Tabernacles. At the start of the evening service they were confounded by an enormous toad which appeared beneath the drapes with which they had covered the altar(perhaps meant to denote the reading desk used in Jewish services?).12 As Lipton suggests, the toad in this case, was probably meant to imply something devilish in Jewish worship.13 At the same time, it was surely also meant to impugn Jews of worshipping money. A quick look at the Glossa ordinaria on the Cain and Abel narrative in Genesis chapter four shows us that the identification of Cain with Jews was commonplace. Jews were described as embracing worldly riches; the name Cain was interpreted as meaning possessio or acquisitio. Abel was identified with Christians and also with Christ. Abel’s murder was likened to the crucifixion of Christ by the Jews. ‘And the Lord set a mark on Cain, that whosoever found him would not kill him’ (Gen. 4:15)14 is provided with an interlinear gloss which refers to Psalm 58(9):12: ‘slay them not lest at any time my people forget’. Augustine used this line to argue that Jews should not be killed; they had a place in Christian society because they carried the books of the Old Testament for Christians. Their ritual of circumcision and their observance of the Sabbath and Passover constituted the sign which safeguarded them just as the mark of Cain protected him from being killed.15 Alleged Jewish carnality in both its spiritual and material guises was amply represented in the Glossa ordinaria, but not, usury which was foregrounded in the Parisian moralised Bibles. Gilbert Dahan has done an extensive study of twelfth to fourteenth-century

6 commentaries on the Cain and Abel narrative.16 Usury does not appear in his analysis, but rapina (plunder) does in the exegesis of Peter Comestor (d. 1187), who had studied and taught at Paris and was the author of the highly influential Historica Scholastica, an interpretive summary of the Bible.17 It also featured in commentaries by Stephen Langton, who was influenced by Comestor’s exegesis and connected to the circle of Peter the Chanter (d. 1197). Langton was consecrated as archbishop of Canterbury in 1207 by Pope Innocent III, but conflict with King John meant that it took many long years before he was able to settle into his see.18 The Oxford MS described Cain’s offering in terms of rapina (plunder) and usury; by the twelfth century it was a commonplace to liken usury to plunder and theft. We shall see why in a moment. Peter Comestor quoted Josephus in relating how Cain built his city (Genesis 4: 17): ‘And Josephus says that he gathered riches through plunder (rapinis) and violence and encouraged his people to theft, and exchanged the simplicity of human life for invention and inequality of measures and weights and produced shrewdness and corruption.’19 This is, of course, Augustine’s earthly city. Stephen Langton used rapina in his reading of the moral meaning of God refusing Cain’s offering. This was aimed against those in mortal sin who believed they could appease God through plunder (rapina).20 That usury was tantamount to plunder to Peter Comestor’s mind is clear from what he said about the sacrament of penance in his sentences on the sacraments. There he makes it plain that for a plunderer or an usurer (raptor vel fenerator) who has acquired much unjustly, it is not enough to desist from further theft he usury. He must restore or make restitution for what he has stolen through theft or usury.21 So what was so terribly wrong with charging borrowers for their loans and why was the charge likened to plunder and theft? Who was stealing from whom? A good way into this is to return to Caesarius of Heisterbach’s Dialogue of Miracles, where he expounded on the

7 sinfulness of usury. In response to the novice’s observation that ‘usury seems […] a very grievous sin, and one most difficult to cure’, the monk has this to say: You are right. Every other sin has its periods of intermission; usury never rests from sin. Though its master be asleep, it never sleeps, but always grows and climbs. It is difficult to heal, for God does not forgive the guilt of theft unless the thing stolen be restored. The fornicator, the adulterer, the murderer, the perjurer, the blasphemer, all receive forgiveness from God, as soon as they show contrition for their sin; but the usurer, although he may be sorry for his sin, does not obtain pardon, so long as he keeps the fruit of the usury, when he might restore it. When the novice asks what would happen if the usurer spent what he had earned in usury or if he had given his usurious earnings to his children and all that remained were lawful possessions, the monks responds: These he must sell and return the plunder (rapinam reddere) […] usury and violent exactions are nothing else than robbery and plunder (praedationes et rapinae).22 The first thing we need to do is to understand what usury was understood to be.23 For that we can turn to Gratian’s Decretum, the seminal collection of canon law which became the basic textbook of canon law in the Middle Ages. The first iteration of the Decretum was completed by 1139; by the 1150s a much fuller version was circulating throughout Christendom.24 Gratian listed three canons containing statements by Augustine, Jerome, and Ambrose explaining that usury occurred when lenders demanded a return which exceeded the loan which they had given. This led Gratian to sum up with the words; ‘behold it is evidently shown that whatever is demanded beyond the principle is usury’.25 The definition of usury applied specifically to a loan contract, known in Roman law as a mutuum, through which a lender loans any kind of fungibles to a borrower. Money was considered a fungible just like wheat or wine. Through the loan possession (dominium) was handed over from the lender to

8 the borrower. Whatever profit the borrower was to make while he possessed the fungible in question was his and his alone to keep. It did not belong to the lender. The only onus on the borrower was to return the value of the fungible, not the fungible itself, he had borrowed to the lender at the stipulated time. If the lender charged anything for the loan, he was considered to be stealing not just from the borrower but also from God because in effect what he was selling was time, and time belonged to God.26 Thomas Chobham produced the widely disseminated Summa confessorum, a handbook for confessors in 1216 in which he included many of the things he had learned about usury in his studies under Peter the Chanter in Paris. After stating that usury was one of the two most detestable forms of greed – the other one was simony – he explained why a mutuum was the only contract from which one was forbidden to expect or receive a profit. He did this by explaining the difference between a rental loan (commodatum) in which what was hired or leased remained the property of the lessor while it was used by the lesee, and a loan in which what was lent transferred to the ownership of the borrower during the period of the loan. If what was lent remained the property of the lender/lessor, then the lender/lessor was entitled to charge the borrower for his use of the lender’s property. In Thomas’ own words: […] in a rental type of loan [commodatum] there is no transferral of dominium (property), but it always remains with the lender. This means that if I will have lent you my horse or anything else in a rental type loan [commodatum] and for your use, I may licitly receive payment because the thing is mine. But in the case of a mutuum, there is transfer of dominium, whence the term mutuum, as it were, de meo tuum. So if I will have lent you pennies or even wheat or wine, the pennies are immediately yours, and the wheat is yours, and the wine is yours. That means that if I would receive payment thence, I would have your profit, not mine. It follows that a usurer sells nothing to the debtor which is his but only time which belongs to God. And it

9 follows that because he sells something that does not belong to him, he should not derive any profit from it. In addition, an usurer is set to make a profit without doing any work even while he is asleep, which is against the Lord’s precept that man should eat bread in labour and by the sweat of his brow (Gen. 3:17,19).27 Thomas’ words echo the explanations given by another member of Peter the Chanter’s Parisian circle, Robert Courson, in his treatment of usury as part of his Summa de sacramentis. Courson distinguished between a mutuum and a locatio, a lease. Courson was a passionate campaigner against usury, and many biblical arguments were brought forward by him and others condemning the making of profits from loans.28 Core texts from the Old and New Testament forbidding usury were Exodus 22:25: (If thou lend money [pecuniam mutuam] to any of my people that is poor, that dwelleth with thee, thou shalt not be hard upon them as an extortioner, nor oppress them with usuries.); Leviticus 25:37 (Take not usury of him nor more than you gave: fear your God, that your brother may live with you. You shall not give him your money upon usury, nor exact of him any increase of fruits.); Deuteronomy 23:19-20 (You shall not lend to your brother money to usury, nor corn, nor any other thing: But to the stranger. To your brother you shall lend that which he wants, without usury: that the Lord thy God may bless you in all your works in the land, which you will go in to possess.); Psalm 14(15):1, 5 (Lord, who shall dwell in your Tabernacle? … He that has not put out his money to usury, nor taken bribes against the innocent …); Ezechiel 18:8 (has not lent upon usury, nor taken any increase: has withdrawn his hand from iniquity, and has executed true judgment between man and man) and Luke 6:34-5 (And if you lend [mutuum dederitis] to them of whom you hope to receive, what thanks are to you? … But love ye your enemies: do good, and lend [mutuum date], hoping for nothing thereby.).

10 The biblical texts combined with Roman law traditions concerning the nature of a mutuum and classical and patristic prejudices against merchants and profit seeking contributed to the visceral antagonism with which medieval Christian thinkers regarded usury. Because usury was deemed to constitute theft, restitution became a fundamental requirement for usurers who wished to repent and be forgiven for their economic sin. Usurious gains could not be given away as alms. Both the Decretum and Gregory IX’s Decretals which were promulgated in 1234 contain many canons to that effect.29 We have already seen how Caesarius of Heisterbach viewed an usurer’s attempt to gain forgiveness by giving away his ill-gotten fortune. Another one of his exempla points to the tensions which could arise concerning the appropriateness of alms giving between high-minded theologians and bishops engaged in building projects. Caesarius relates how a certain wealthy usurer by the name of Theobald was struck by remorse and consulted Bishop Maurice of Paris on what he should do. Maurice was building Notre Dame at the time and told him to donate his wealth to the construction work. Theobald, however, had his doubts, and went to get a second opinion from Peter the Chanter. “I do not think that he has given good advice this time; go rather and tell the crier to proclaim throughout the city that you are prepared to make restitution to all from whom you have taken any more than was due.” And so it was done. Then he went back to the [Chanter] and said: “To all who came to me I have restored everything that I have taken from them, my conscience bearing witness, and still there is an abundance left.” Then said the other: “Now you may give alms without fear.”30 The accusation of suppressing the poor was another line of attack against usurers. In another of Caesarius’ exempla a fiery chair in hell is prepared for a usurer. ‘And rightly is that chair a chair of fire, because as the fire consumes the stubble, so does usury devour the substance of the poor.’31 Related to this is the idea that usurers forced needy borrowers

11 to pay them usury. Thomas Chobham explained that even if the borrower agreed to the charge, this was conditional consent, not absolute, conditional because otherwise the loan would not be forthcoming. Odd Langholm has made the important link between the concept of compulsion and the Roman legal definition of theft. In a theft property is removed from its owner against the owner’s will.32 Equating usury with theft because what the usurer sold was time which belonged to God was closely linked to the idea that unlike a field or a vineyard, money by its nature was sterile. Aristotle had expressed this clearly in the Politics, where he talked about money as being ‘the necessary medium of exchange’. He condemned usury because it used money in a way which was contrary to its nature, which was for exchange. He went on to say that this explained the term tokos (the Greek for usury), ‘Offspring are similar to those who give birth to them, and interest is money born of money. So of the sorts of goods-getting this is the most contrary to nature’.33 Langholm has pointed out that even before The Politics became readily available in the West, late twelfth and early thirteenth-century ecclesiastics would have found similar sentiments in the Decretum in D. 88 c. 11, a so-called palea, the term used for an addition inserted into the later iteration of the collection. The canon is ascribed to John Chrysostom (d. 407) and is a commentary on Matthew 21 in which Jesus cast out the sellers and buyers in the Temple and overturned the tables of the money-changers, saying: ‘My house shall be called the house of prayer; but you have made it a den of thieves’ (Matt. 21:11-13). The canon is scathing about merchants and describes usurers as the worst among them. Why? ‘Because they sell something given by God and subsequently take back usury as if it belongs to them and put what does not belong to them with what does.’ And why is it so very different to receive a return on renting out a field or a house from receiving usury for lending out money? In the first place, money was not meant for any other use than buying. In the second place,

12 a field yields a crop when it is tilled; a house provides accommodation to the person who has it. That is why the lessor may receive payment for the use the lessee gets of the land or house. But one gets no use out of stored money. Finally, a field or a house age through use. Money on the other hand, which has been lent does not diminish or age.34 We are, indeed, worlds away from modern ideas about money and the economy.35

23 1 A. de Laborde, A (ed.), La Bible Moralisée illustrée: conservée à Oxford, Paris et Londres. Société française de reproduction de manuscrits à peintures, Paris: Pour les membres de la Société, 1911-27; Hellemans, Babette, La Bible Moralisée: une oeuvre à part entire. Temporalité, sémiotique et creation au XIIIe siècle (Turnhout, 2010), 219-21, 226-7. 2 Bodleian Library, Oxford MS Bodl. 270b, 7v and 8r at https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/inquire/Discover/Search/#/?p=c+0,t+,rsrs+0,rsps+10,fa+,so+ox%3Asort%5Easc,scids+,pid+4cf7e9d2-c06e-4029-a3b1-152736320897,vi+c5e2eaf3-f229-4584-9a5c-51ff8abe0056 and https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/inquire/Discover/Search/#/?p=c+0,t+,rsrs+0,rsps+10,fa+,so+ox%3Asort%5Easc,scids+,pid+4cf7e9d2-c06e-4029-a3b1-152736320897,vi+798c4a89-99d1-42b0-9633-0630265227ef (accessed on 29 August 2019). See also Mellinkoff, Ruth, ‘Cain and the Jews’, Journal of Jewish Art 6 (1979), 19-23. On the imagery of the scroll see Sara Lipton, Images of Intolerance. The Representation of Jews and Judaism in the Bible Moralisée (Berkeley, 1999), 65-6. 3 Lipton, Images of Intolerance; Codex Vindobonensis 2554, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Commentary and translation of biblical texts by Gerald B. Guest, English edn (London, 1995), 4-5. On the Glossa Ordinaria see Lesley Smith, The Glossa ordinaria. The Making of a Medieval Bible Commentary, Leiden, 2009; on the Capetians, see William Chester Jordan, The French Monarchy and the Jews. From Philip Augustus to the last Capetians, Philadelphia, PA, 1989.

24 4 Lipton, 39; Vienna 1179, fol. 5b: vanitates huius mundi, cupiditates et usuras. MS available at: http://digital.onb.ac.at/RepViewer/viewer.faces?doc=DTL_5955097&order=1&view=SINGLE, image 9 (accessed on 7 May 2020). 5 Lipton, 39, 44, 171, n. 57; Guest, 55; Vienna 2554, fol. 2vb, available at http://digital.onb.ac.at/RepViewer/viewer.faces?doc=DTL_2246547&order=1&view=SINGLE, image 10 (accessed on 7 May 2020). 6 Vienna 2554, 29rb, available at http://digital.onb.ac.at/RepViewer/viewer.faces?doc=DTL_2246547&order=1&view=SINGLE, image 61 (accessed on 7 May 2020); Lipton, 44-5; Guest, 86 (referring to Lev. 11:41-42). 7 Lipton, 44. 8 Vienna 1179, 47vc, available at http://digital.onb.ac.at/RepViewer/viewer.faces?doc=DTL_5955097&order=1&view=SINGLE, image 51 (accessed on 7 May 2020); I am very grateful to Sara Lipton for helping me make sense of the grainy black and white web image during the Covod-19 lockdown in May 2020. Any errors are my responsibility. 9 Lipton, 44-45; F. Wagner, ‘Caesarius von Heisterbach’, in: Lexikon des Mittelaletrs 2.7 (Munich and Zurich, 1983), col. 1364. 10 Caesarius of Heisterbach, The Dialogue of Miracles, 11.39, transl. H. Von E. Scott and C.C. Swinton Bland, vol. 2 (London: Routledge, 1919), 270-1; ed. J. Strange (1851) in: Caesarius von Heisterbach, Dialogi miraculorum, Dialog über die Wunder, trans. Nikolaus Nösges and Horst Schneider, Fontes Christiani 86/5 (Turnhout, 2009), 2132.

25 11 Dialogue of Miracles 2.32, transl., 118-9; ed. Fontes Christiani 86/1, 486-8, see note 283 on p. 486 for the medieval use of the term vermis. 12 Dialogue of Miracles 10.69, transl., 227; ed. Fontes Christiani 86/4, 2026. 13 Lipton, 44-45. 14 Translations are based on the Douay-Rheims version of the Bible. 15 Biblia Latina cum Glossa ordinaria: facsimile reprint of the edition princeps: Adolph Rusch of Strassburg 1480/81, ed. K. Froehlich and M.T. Gibson, vol. 1, Brepols 1992, Gen. 4: 15: ut non] [interlinear] ne occidas eos nequando obli [for obliviscantur] populi mei, accessible at https://archive.thulb.uni-jena.de/ufb/rsc/viewer/ufb_derivate_00000064/Inc_83_1_00036.tif, made available on line by the Digitale Historische Bibliothek Erfurt/Gotha; Anna Sapir Abulafia, Christian-Jewish relations, 1000-1300. Jews in the service of medieval Christendom (Harlow, 2011), 6-7. 16 Gilbert Dahan, ‘L’Exégèse de l’histoire de Caïn et Abel, du XIIe au XIVe siècle en Occident’, Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 49 (1982) 21-89 and 50 (1983) 5-68. 17 R. Quinto, ‘P. Comestor’, Lexikon des Mittelalters 6.9 (1993), coll. 1967-1968. 18 John W. Baldwin, Master, Princes and Merchants. The social views of Peter the Chanter & his Circle, vol. 1 (Princeton, NJ, 1970), 18; 25-31. 19 Petri Comestoris Scolastica Historia, Liber Genesis, ed. Agneta Sylwan, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis, 191 (Turnhout, 2005), 53: Et ait Iosephus quia rapinis et violentia opes congregans suos ad latrocinia invitabat, et simplicitatem vite hominum ad inventionem

26 mensurarum et ponderum permutavit, et ad calliditatem et corruptionem produxit; Dahan, ‘L’Exégèse’, Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 49 (1982) 30. 20 Factum est autem etc. {Gen. 4:3} Nota quod glossa “offert Cayn”, que moralis est, est contra illos qui existentes in mortali [peccato?] putant Deum placare per rapinam, contra quos dicit Ysaias: “Cum multiplicaueritis orationem, non exaudiam. Manus uestre sanguine plene sunt” […], ed. in Dahan, ‘L’Exégèse de l’histoire de Caïn et Abel, Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 50 (1983) 19. 21 Petrus Comestor, Sententiae de Sacramentis, ed. Raymond M. Martin, Pierre le Mangeur, De sacramentis, in Spicilegium sacrum Lovaniense 17 (1937), 71*: raptor vel fenerator multa quesivit iniuste, abstinet a rapina vel fenore; non tamen vult aliquid restituere […]. 22 Quotations from Dialogue of Miracles 2.8, transl., 79-80; ed. Fontes Christiani 86/1, 390-2. 23 Apart from the works cited in the following footnotes, see also excellent coverage of usury in John T. Noonan, The Scholastic Analysis of Usury, Cambridge, MA, 1937). 24 Winroth, Anders, The Making of Gratian’s Decretum, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000; idem, “Recent Work on the making of Gratian’s Decretum”, Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law, 26 (2004-6), 4–8, 23. 25 Causa 14 q. 3 cc. 1-3 and d.p.c. 4 (canon 4 belongs to the later iteration of the Decretum, see Winroth, The making of Gratian’s Decretum, 214); Winroth, Decretum Gratiani, first recension, version: 5 October 2019. Available on-line: http://gratian.org/ (accessed 22 October 2019); Corpus Iuris Canonici. Vol. 1, Decretum magistri Gratiani, ed. by Emil Friedberg (Leipzig 1879), coll 734-5 available at http://geschichte.digitale-sammlungen.de/decretum-gratiani/online/angebot.

27 26 Baldwin, 271, 286-7; Odd Langholm, Economics in the Medieval Schools. Wealth, Exchange, Value, Money and Usury according to the Paris Theological Tradition 1200-1350 (Leiden, 1992), 47-50; T.P. McLaughlin, ‘The Teaching of the Canonists on Usury (XII, XIII and XIV Centuries)’, Mediaeval Studies 1 (1939), 100-2. 27 Baldwin, 18, 34-6, 287; Thomas Chobham, Summa confessorum, Art. 7, Dist. 6, Q. 11, cap. 1, in F. Broomfield (ed.), Analecta Mediaevalia Namurcensia, 25 (Louvain, 1968), 504-5. 28 Baldwin, 19-24,287; Langholm, 48; Georges Lefèvre (ed.), Le Traité “De Usura” de Robert de Courson, in Travaux et Mémoires de l’Université de Lille, Tome 10, mémoire no. 30 (Lille, 1902), 15. 29 Baldwin, 302-311; in Decretum: C. 14 q. 5 and q. 6; X. 5. 19; in the Decretals: X. 5. 19, cc. 3, 5, 9, 11, 13, 14, 17, in Emil Friedberg (ed.), Corpus Iuris Canonici. Vol. 2, (Leipzig, 1881; reprint, 1959), coll 812-16, available at http://www.columbia.edu/cu/lweb/digital/collections/cul/texts/ldpd_6029936_002/index.html. 30 Dialogue of Miracles 2.33, transl., 119-21, quotation from p. 120 ed. Fontes Christiani 86/1, 490-2; see also Baldwin, 308-9. 31 Dialogue of Miracles 2.7, transl., 76-9, quotation from p. 79 ed. Fontes Christiani 86/1, 382-90. 32 Odd Langholm, The Merchant and the Confessional. Trade and Price in the pre-Reformation penitential handbooks (Leiden, 2003), 28; Summa Confessorum, De Penitentis, Q. XIa, cap. Iiii, p. 508; Justinian, Institutes, 4.1.6 and 4.2. pr, available at https://droitromain.univ-grenoble-alpes.fr/, (accessed on 22 October 2019).

28 33 Translation from: Aristotle, Politics, I.10, 1258a-b, trans. Carnes Lord, second edition (Chicago, 2013), 18. 34 Langholm, Economics, 58; D 88 c. 11, ed. Friedberg, vol. 1, col. 308-9; translation and summary of text my own. 35 See also Langholm, Economics, 49. 36 Baldwin, 273-295; McLaughlin, ‘The Teaching of the Canonists on Usury’, 141; https://droitromain.univ-grenoble-alpes.fr/ (accessed on 30 April 2020). 37 Benjamin Nelson, The idea of usury. From tribal brotherhood to universal otherhood. 2nd edition enlarged (Chicago and London, 1969), 19-22. 38 The literature includes Robin Mundill, England’s Jewish Solution. Experiment and Expulsion, 1262-1290, Cambridge, 1998 and Robert Stacey, ‘Jewish Lending and the Medieval Economy’, in: R.H. Britnell and B.M.S. Campbell (eds), A Commercialising Economy. England 1086 to c. 1300, (Manchester, 1995), 78-101; see also Baldwin, 298-9. 39 See Jordan, The French Monarchy. 40 See also Lester K. Little, Poverty and the Profit Economy (London, 1978), 54-7. Julie L. Mell, The Myth of the Medieval Jewish Moneylender, 2 vols, Basingstoke, 2017 came to my attention after I had completed this paper. Mell downplays the role of Jewish moneylending in the Middle Ages. 41 Bernard of Clairvaux, Epistola 365, in Sancti Bernardi Opera, ed. Jean Leclercq and Henri Rochais, vol. 8 (Rome, 1977), 320-2; Sapir Abulafia, Christian-Jewish Relations, 158. 42 On the preoccupation of the canonists with open or manifest usury see J. Gilchrist, The Church and Economic Activity in the Middle Ages (New York, 1969), 66 as well as Kenneth R.