Two overarching claims about Jewish life in Candia during this period are made in this study. The first is that the Jews of Candia encountered and engaged with Latin and Greek Christians not simply out of necessity or as a result of the vicissitudes of daily life, although these certainly played a role. Rather, Jews chose to participate in meaningful encounters through professional channels and legal engagement with Venice’s secular judiciary. This behavior was fostered, even if inadvertently, by Crete’s colonial government, which saw in the island’s Jews a relatively safe ally and buffer against the less conciliatory Greek Orthodox population. Venice’s strategy of colonial appeasement in Crete thus gave local Jews social leeway and legal opportunity that were often unavailable to Jews elsewhere at the time.
The second argument addresses the implications of such engaged interaction: that sustained encounter did not happen only at the fringes of Jewish society and that it left a decided and visible mark on the internal community. Engagement with Christians and with Venetian institutions—above all, the colonial justice system, and particularly in contexts of intra-Jewish litigation—influenced, shaped, and changed the Jewish community of Candia, allowing it to function as a traditional Jewish community without many of the anxieties and reservations of other medieval Jewish communities.
These two arguments are inextricably connected. That is to say, the internal relations of the community as negotiated in the colonial courtroom must be viewed in conjunction with the networks of which these Jews were a part. This interdependence explains why the Jews of Crete chose to behave in a fashion decidedly at odds with traditional understandings of rabbinic ideals, which dictated that all intra-Jewish disputes must be addressed within the confines of the Jewish community. In particular, the beit din, or Jewish court, was supposed to decide matters of Jewish concern. But Candiote Jews often chose to reject this directive, in part because of their relationships with people and governing entities outside the bounds of the local Jewish community. These relations were not simply pragmatic and temporary. They shaped the nature and the experience of the individual Jews who made up the community. The decisions made by these Jews then affected the nature of the Jewish community writ large.
Sources of Jewish History on Crete
The Jews who made up the kehillah kedoshah—the “holy community,” as the Jewish corporate structure called itself—of Venetian Candia (modern Iraklion) during the late Middle Ages were mostly Greek speakers hailing originally from the Byzantine sphere. The community’s story has been only infrequently and incompletely told.13 Moreover, the story of Crete’s Jewish individuals remains untold, and this book tells that tale by bringing to life Cretan Jews by looking at their interaction with Venetian colonial justice. The portrait of Jewish life drawn here looks quite different than those typically recounted about the Middle Ages. Though Jewish sources have traditionally portrayed Jews as isolated, self-segregating groups, living almost accidentally within a given sovereign society, medieval communities were often engaged in the wider societies that encompassed them. The Jews of Venetian Candia actively enmeshed themselves in the concentric social spheres of the colonial capital and beyond. They were very involved in the life of the city, both in its capacity as a site of a great deal of formal business and more casually as a hub of other sorts of quotidian interaction. Jews regularly interacted with the Latin-rite (Catholic) Venetians and Greek-rite (Orthodox) native Cretans who lived alongside them.
The fact that this book focuses on the Venetian colonial judiciary as a central institution in the lives of Crete’s Jews stems in significant part from the exceptionally large collection of ducal court records that survived the Ottoman takeover of Crete in 1669.14 These court records are housed today in Venice’s Archivio di Stato, collected as part of the Duca di Candia series. This study relies on both the records of sentences meted out (Sentenze Civili) and long-form records of cases (Memoriali).15 Jews appear in a considerable number of these records, acting as litigants, defendants, witnesses, and in other capacities, including agents, executors of wills, and medical patients. Beyond the legal context, references to Jews as neighbors, relatives, orphans, or guardians offer even more information about the Jewish community. Though the judicial records are a rich source, this study is the first to thoroughly address their Jewish-related content.
This book’s emphasis on the justice system, however, does not stem solely from the wealth of evidence but also from the real importance of courts in medieval Mediterranean life. Litigation was a far more common activity in the late Middle Ages than it is today, and many more people were likely to be swept up in late medieval court proceedings than in modern cases. Litigation thus offers us access to a broader cross section of Candiote Jewish society than is initially apparent. Moreover, emphasis on litigation also engages with the Venetian state’s own concern with “justice” as a primary ideological principle through which it ruled in both colonial and metropolitan settings. The world of litigation, legal recourse, and other modes of “justice” formed an essential building block in the development of the Venetian empire and its political philosophy. By asking how Jews fit into this picture of justice and judicial life, then, this study contributes not only to debates over Jewish life but also to considerations of the broader Venetian Mediterranean and medieval empires.
Ducal court records are not the only source available for an investigation of the Jews of Venetian Crete. There are other surviving Latin materials marshaled in this study. Notarial acts form one of these source bases. The Venetian bureaucratic engine was one of the most prolific record keepers of the premodern world. Crete’s thriving markets seem to have been constantly abuzz. Perhaps because any business deal could end up as a legal battle, residents of Candia patronized the city’s many notaries, men who had the technical skills and legal know-how to draw up binding contracts that would hold up in court. Though Greek and Hebrew notaries were active in Candia as well, Venice’s official notaries wrote in Latin, and it is almost solely these Latin registers from the capital that survive in the archival series called Notai di Candia.16
Business was brisk for these men: for the fourteenth century, the registers of forty-seven notaries survive; in the fifteenth century, forty-one notaries’ materials have endured through war, water, book-boring worms, and time.17 The systematic exploration of the vast notarial records from the period under study lies outside the scope of this project, but much notarial data from unedited and edited registers have been incorporated, as well as references to notarial acts discussed by other scholars. In addition, material from the town crier’s rolls has been examined.18 Even a cursory glance at these sources shows how deeply embedded in the economic and social life of the city Candiote Jews had become by the mid-fourteenth century; their mark can be found everywhere.
And of course, there is Taqqanot Qandiya, the set of Hebrew sources discussed above. In this collection, communal ordinances composed and approved by the leadership of the Jewish community in Candia are gathered. Alongside these ordinances that give the source collection its name are other types of communal documents, including a few responsa (halachic decisions written in response to specific questions) and some historical lists, such as the important accomplishments of some of the condestabuli.19 The collection originates from the first half of the sixteenth century, when the historian and rabbi Elia Capsali gathered and copied the ordinances and the other materials in the format that exists today. To be sure, Taqqanot Qandiya does not allow the historian to hear the voice of all sections of Candiote Jewry; it is the product of a male, elite, and rabbinically oriented subclass of the kehillah. Nevertheless, because of the local nature of the ordinances, responsa, and other included texts, as well as Capsali’s own attention to