My name is Don Isaac Abravanel and I am descended from a long line of esteemed Jewish scholars and statesmen. I was born in 1437 in Lisbon, Portugal, a country to which the sun turns its last rays before dozing off, cradled by the sea. But some nights, unfortunately, are destined to last much longer than others.
My story is deeply linked to that of my family, which has always been deeply dedicated to preserving our heritage, nurturing a constant quest for knowledge.
Therefore, from an early age I immersed myself in the rich teachings of our Jewish faith. My father, Yehuda Abravanel, lit the flame of knowledge within me and educated me in various fields, including mathematics, philosophy and Hebrew literature. As a result, I fell in love with learning and wanted to contribute to the intellectual and spiritual growth of our people.
I, Isaac Abravanel, was an inhabitant of Lisbon, Portugal, born into a lineage of esteemed Iberian Jewish families. My relative's name, Abravanel or Abarbanel, resonated as one who escaped the wrath of the massacre of Castile in the year 1391. In my youth, I sought knowledge under the tutelage of the esteemed Rabbi Joseph Chaim in Lisbon, delving into the world of rabbinic literature and the erudite wisdom of my time.
The realm of Jewish philosophy fascinated me and I considered Joseph ben Shem-Tov my trusted mentor. With curiosity burning within me, I wrote down my thoughts, exploring the essence of natural elements, delving into religious dilemmas and contemplating the depths of prophecy. In addition to my intellectual prowess, I harnessed a keen understanding of financial matters, a skill that caught the attention of King Alfonso V of Portugal, who graciously hired me as his treasurer.
In this elevated position, supported by the vast wealth inherited from my father, I devoted myself to assisting my fellow Jews. When King Afonso conquered the city of Arzila in Morocco, the Jewish prisoners faced the sad fate of being sold as slaves. My heart ached for their plight and, with unwavering determination, I spent large sums to ensure their freedom. My efforts extended beyond mere financial contributions; I orchestrated widespread collections throughout Portugal and wrote fervent pleas to my esteemed and prosperous friend, Vitale Nissim da Pisa, begging him to help those held captive.
However, my fortunes changed with the demise of King Afonso, as accusations of collusion with the executed Duke of Braganza, levelled by King John II, forced me to give up my beloved position. Yet, ever vigilant, I received timely warnings and hastily fled to Castile in 1483. Unfortunately, my considerable fortune fell prey to the clutches of a royal decree, seized mercilessly and seemingly lost in the annals of time.
Toledo became my refuge, a haven where, in the midst of my new life, I immersed myself in the study of biblical texts. Within only six months, I had unveiled an extensive commentary on the holy books of Joshua, Judges and Samuel. However, fate had reserved new paths for me and I found myself in the service of the esteemed house of Castile. Together with my dear friend, the influential converso Don Abraham Senior of Segovia, we embarked on income-generating farming ventures and supplying provisions to the royal army, contracts that we fulfilled to the utmost satisfaction of Queen Isabella I of Castile.
When the forces of the Reconquista advanced, my coffers opened and considerable sums of money flowed towards the king. When the Catholic monarchs of Spain, with the edict of the Decree of the Alhambra, ordered the expulsion of the Jews from their lands, I made every effort to influence the king's decision. In vain, I made him an offer of 30,000 ducats, an enormous sum that could have changed the course of history. However, my pleas fell on deaf ears and my golden gifts were shunned.
Thus, on that fateful day, I found myself joining the crowd of my fellow Jews in exile. I abandoned my esteemed position, leaving behind the comforts and luxuries that once embraced me. Together, my family and I embarked on a journey of suffering and displacement, our hearts heavy with the weight of grief.
Naples, Italy, became our refuge from a world that had turned against us. Just as Ferdinand, master of our fate, tried to deny us respite, the king of Naples, also called Ferdinand, defied the demands and extended his benevolent protection. An opportunity for comfort arose and I found myself in the palace of this gentle ruler, serving as his trusted advisor to both him and his successor, Alfonso II.
I had finally been given, through God's will, something I had always wanted but never obtained: an opportunity. A chance to prove how deep my faith and desire to redeem what I had suffered were. In my heart, however, there was no desire for revenge. I had suffered the pain of hatred and marginalisation... so I would strive to generate unity through love and understanding.
In my quest for knowledge, I engaged in fervent debates with leading Christian theologians, delving into scripture and philosophy. These interactions gave me a deeper understanding of different perspectives and an advanced interreligious dialogue during a time of heated religious divisions charged with tension.
During my time in Naples, I authored several acclaimed works, delving into various topics such as biblical exegesis, philosophy and history. My most important work, 'Dialogues on Love and Friendship', explored the themes of love, ethics and human nature, establishing me as a leading thinker in Renaissance Europe.
However, fortunes changed again when French forces stormed the walls of Naples, leaving us destitute. Our wealth vanished and we found ourselves navigating a world that had become cold and inhospitable. Seeking some semblance of stability, we sought refuge in Monopoli, in the Kingdom of Naples, and then moved north-east to the beautiful and dominant Venice in 1503. Here, the rulers of Venice recognised my acumen and invited me to join their esteemed council of state. I became one of the leading statesmen of the Venetian Republic, my voice resounding in the halls of power.
It was in this city of intrigue and splendour that I breathed my last at the age of 71. As I left these mortal remains, Venice stood still, mourning the loss of a man who transcended religious distinctions. Jewish and non-Jewish citizens greeted me with hearts heavy with grief.
The rulers of Venice themselves paid me solemn homage, their presence a testimony to the impact I had on their illustrious republic. In Padua, I found my final resting place, next to Rabbi Judah Minz. And now that my story draws to a close, I, Isaac Abravanel, leave you the legacy of my memory. Not the simple memory of a man who crossed lands and seas in search of a land, but the memory of a people, ours, whose inexhaustible strength lies in the roots of its own immense history.