It is evident that Frederick William admitted the Jews purely from financial considerations. But he occasionally showed unselfish goodwill towards some. When he agreed to the quixotic plan of Skytte, a Swedish royal councilor, to found, at Tangermünde in the Mark, a university for all sciences and an asylum for persecuted savants, he did not fail, according to his programme, to admit into this Athens of the Mark, Jewish men of learning, as well as Arabs and unbelievers of every kind, but on condition that they should keep their errors to themselves, and not spread them abroad. At another spot in Christian Europe a few rays of light pierced the darkness. About the same time that the Jews were expelled from Vienna, a false accusation, which might have had far-reaching consequences, cropped up against the Jews of a city recently brought under French rule. In Metz, a considerable community had developed in the course of a century from four Jewish families, and had appointed its own rabbi since the beginning of the seventeenth century. The Jews of Metz behaved so well that King Louis XIV publicly declared his satisfaction with them, and renewed their privileges. But as Metz at that time still had a German population, narrow guilds continued to exist, and these insisted upon limiting the Jews in their occupations. Thwarted by the magistrates, some of them roused in the populace a burning hatred of the Jews. A peasant had lost a child, and the news was quickly spread that the Jews had killed it to practice sorcery with its flesh. The accusation was brought specifically against a peddler, Raphael Levi. Scraps of paper with Hebrew letters, written by him during his imprisonment, served as proofs of his guilt. A baptized Jew, Paul du Vallié (Vallier, formerly Isaac), son of a famous physician in that district, with the aid of another Jewish convert, translated the scraps to the disadvantage of the accused.