On August 2, 1391, several thousand armed peasant rebels camped outside the closed gates of Palma de Mallorca. Their anger had been building for years: despite fifteen years of drought and poor harvests, the governor had refused to reduce taxes, and the Jewish tax collectors of Palma continued to enforce them with precision year after year. Their demands were radical: on the one hand, the complete cancellation of all taxes; on the other, the immediate conversion of the Jews to Christianity—under penalty of death.
While negotiations were underway between the rebels and the governor, the people of the suburbs decided to add weight to the demands by attacking and looting the Call, the Jewish quarter. Faced with mounting pressure, the Jewish community ultimately chose conversion, and in the following days mass baptisms took place in the churches surrounding the Call. This marked the beginning of the story of one of Europe’s most unusual Jewish communities: the Xuetes.
Street of the Old Synagogue
Of course, the history of Mallorca’s Jews stretches back much further. Sources already mention a sizeable Jewish community settling here in the 1st century AD, after the destruction of Jerusalem, and in the 5th century one of its members even served as imperial governor of the entire island. The community continued to flourish after the Arab conquest, and their quarter stood right next to the caliph’s palace, on the site where the later Dominican church would rise.
Jewish Street
When King James I of Aragon and his wife, Queen Yolanda of Hungary, entered the Arab-held city of Medina Mayurqa on December 31, 1229, one of their first acts was to distribute lands to the Catalan Jews who had financed the conquest, and houses—on what is now Saint Bartholomew Street—to those Jewish soldiers who had taken part in it as a distinct unit. For a full century, the king and his successors relied heavily on Jews for the island’s financial and economic administration, granting them numerous privileges: this was the golden age of Mallorcan Jewry. Their growing numbers and prosperity are reflected in the expansion of the Call, the Jewish quarter in the southeastern part of the old town, around today’s Sol and Montesión streets. It boasted three large and splendid synagogues: on the site of the oldest now stands the Jesuit church, while the locations of the other two are only approximately known. It was here, in the Call, that two of the great geographers and cartographers of the Catalan world lived and worked—Abraham and Jafudà Cresques, father and son. Today, a statue of the latter stands in front of what was once their home, opposite the former stronghold of the Knights Templar, which in Arab times was still known as the “Castle of the Jews.”
Statue of the 14th-century Jewish cartographer Jafudà Cresques on the site of his former home
Even after the forced conversions of 1391, the Jewish community retained a degree of internal organization, and its members largely preserved their social standing and wealth. Now operating as a Christian confraternity, they took care of their poorer members and their education. Contemporary accounts suggest that many continued to observe Jewish customs at home and married only within their own circle. Meanwhile, in their trading colonies outside Spain—especially in Livorno, Rome, Marseille, and Amsterdam—they often reconnected with local Jewish communities and openly returned to Judaism; in places like Alexandria and Smyrna, some even became followers of Sabbatai Zevi.
Throughout the 15th century, the Catholic Church made determined efforts to stamp out crypto-Judaism, aided by the powerful machinery of the Spanish Inquisition, which arrived on the island in 1488. By 1545—the date of the last trial for judaizing—537 converted Jews had been sentenced to death, of whom 82 were actually burned at the stake, while many others managed to flee the island in time. This was followed by a century and a half of relative calm, until the 1670s, when the fury of the Inquisition flared up once more. In the following decade, hundreds of suspected crypto-Jews were tried, and during the infamous 1691 Cremadissa—the “great burning”—many were again burned alive at what is now Plaza Gomila, long remembered afterward as el fogó de los Jueus, “the Jews’ pyre.”
The “Jewish castle,” later the Templar fortress at the entrance to the Call
Alongside the pressures of the Inquisition, the Xuetes also faced widespread discrimination. The name itself—according to popular etymology—derives from the Catalan xuía or xulla (“bacon,” figuratively “pig”), though it is more likely a continuation of juetó, meaning “little Jew.” Admission to most religious and civic institutions—such as guilds or the army—required neteja de sang, “purity of blood,” effectively excluding those of Jewish or Moorish descent; likewise, “pure-blooded” families would not marry into Xueta families. Numerous pamphlets circulated against them, openly questioning their Christianity and calling for their segregation. In 1773, the Xuetes submitted a petition for equal rights to the royal court—but after decades of debate, it brought no real change.
Street of the New Synagogue
Discrimination against the Xuetes—and thus the distinct identity of the community—persisted well into the late 20th century. Although legal restrictions were gradually lifted over time, people in Palma still know exactly which houses are Xueta-owned and which shops belong to Xueta families. Many of these are concentrated on Silversmiths’ Street, where the signs of jewelry shops still often bear one of “the fifteen names”—the surnames of the principal Xueta families. A 2001 survey found that 30% of “old Christian” Mallorcans would not marry a Xueta. One Xueta acquaintance told me he only learned of his own origins when classmates teased him about it in first grade—prompting a conversation at home, where his devout Catholic parents finally shared their family’s past.
Traditional jewelry shops on Silversmiths’ Street
At the same time, since the 1960s, a kind of “Xueta renaissance” has been underway. Xuetes themselves, other islanders, and Jewish communities worldwide have all shown growing interest in Mallorca’s Jewish past. Although today they are often among the most devout Catholic families, in 2011 Rabbi Nissim Karelitz—one of Israel’s leading halachic authorities and head of the ultra-Orthodox Beth Din Tzedek—formally recognized their Jewish origins. A rich and growing body of historical literature has emerged, and several important cultural organizations have been founded, such as ARCA-Llegat Jueu (Jewish Heritage) and Memòria del Carrer, dedicated to researching the history of the Jewish quarter. They even publish their own journal, Segell, named after the original Jewish street. And in the old Jewish quarter, the historic Hebrew street names are beginning to reappear beneath the Catalan ones.
A bakery in operation for five hundred years on the street of the former New Synagogue
We’ll be exploring all this in more detail in a series of upcoming posts over the next few weeks.
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