Settlement Policy and Competition in Towns: The Case of Anschel of Münzenberg

Abstract

This article examines the complexity of Jewish life in rural regions in Germany during the late Middle Ages and underscores the importance of investigating micro-histories for a more comprehensive understanding of Jewish identity and experiences in these settings. Introducing the common practice of territorial lords to limit the number of Jewish households residing in the small towns of their domain, this article argues against the portrayal of Jews as passive recipients of such settlement policies. It highlights their active participation in selecting incoming community members, especially in cases in which Jews aimed to prevent the immigration of co-religionists. Focusing on the case study of Münzenberg, where the Jew Anschel solicited the expulsion of most of the local community, three main incentives of Jewish political and legal interventions come to light: tax distribution, economic competition and personal relationships and conflicts. The article explores these incentives through various examples of Jewish townspeople who skilfully navigated negotiations, leveraging the interests and concerns of territorial lords and various courts.

Introduction

During the Middle Ages, the existence of an already established Jewish community was a central factor in where Jews chose to settle. Whether in times of relative prosperity or in times of discrimination, living among those who shared their faith, language, customs and traditions provided a sense of belonging, as well as social and economic support. For example, when, as a result of the exclusion of Jews from crafts and merchant guilds, Jewish business opportunities became limited in the German territories, the community provided opportunities for economic cooperation, such as shared businesses and investment partnerships. However, the ability of a community to establish and support institutions for religious observance, education, charity and political representation vis-à-vis the Christian government depended on its size, prosperity and the legal framework of its self-administration. For these and other reasons, many Jews were, therefore, attracted to larger communities, embracing the communal lifestyle for both the protection and the opportunities it provided. ¹

As a result, historians often present the community as the primary focus of the medieval Jewish experience, sometimes overlooking the evidence of individual agency and less communal living circumstances. The story of Anschel and his wife Gutlin, two Jewish residents of Münzenberg, a small town in the rural environs of Frankfurt that functioned as a mini economic hub for the surrounding area, highlights the intricate nature of Jewish identity and belonging in a small-town context. The couple intentionally sought, and succeeded, in terminating the writ of protection of all their co-religionists in Münzenberg. Instead of living within a fully functioning community of several Jewish families, they agitated for the institution of a new settlement policy that forbade Jews from taking up residence in the town, with the exception of only one other household in addition to their own. This enabled them to take control of their communal life and the local market. Anschel and Gutlin’s political agency had far-reaching consequences, not only for themselves but also for the subsequent history of Jewish life in Münzenberg. Their example illustrates that the growth of the community was not necessarily a universal desideratum for Jews or Christians. This article explores the main motives behind the individual interference of Jews in settlement politics in order to evict unwanted individuals and reduce their own local peer group. It analyses the arguments expressed in Anschel and Gutlin’s appeals and in correspondences between local authorities and officials. Similar examples from other small towns in rural regions support the general relevance of this phenomenon. ²

Emergence and Regulation of Small-town Jewish Life

The fifteenth century led to the expulsion of Jews from most of the free and imperial cities of the German empire and, consequentially, to fundamental changes to their communal structure. Venturing into more rural areas, Jews established new homes in small towns and villages under the rule of regional lords and nobles willing to grant them protection. ³ The growth of these rural communities was limited by the low seasonal need of capital in the agricultural society, which was, therefore, unable to provide sufficient business opportunities for any but a small number of Jewish residents. Jewish merchants and pawn brokers thus made a living by serving needs across a broad agricultural region, constantly travelling between little settlements for small-scale profit. Jewish livelihood remained dependent on the large municipal markets, where greater profits were to be made, but where their trade and overnight stay were often restricted. This aspect was highlighted by Debra Kaplan, for example, who, examining the dynamic relationship between urban and rural areas by looking at Jewish activities in Strasbourg after their expulsion from that city, has pointed to the expellees’ continued access to the city’s markets throughout the period that followed. ⁴

Anschel’s hometown, Münzenberg, benefited from its advantageous location roughly 40 kilometres north of Frankfurt. However, competition was fierce, as unlike most other medieval metropolises, Frankfurt still had a significant Jewish population. Although the community had been forced out of its central location within the city and into a ghetto, it remained an integral part of the urban landscape and attracted many Jewish settlers who fought hard for admission to the city. In order to be able to relocate to Frankfurt, Jews needed to be granted a Stättigkeit—a type of citizenship based on an individual contract with the city council. Difficult and expensive to obtain, this contract defined the conditions, rights and obligations associated with residency in the city. ⁵

Towns under territorial rule also developed systems to regulate the growth of the Jewish population. To maintain a balance between the minority Jewish community and Christian society, local and regional governments implemented settlement policies prescribing the permissible number of households. In Alsace, as Gerd Mentgen has shown, the shaping of the settlement network was a collaborative effort on the part of multiple independent town governments. During the mid-fifteenth century, for example, the towns of Colmar and Kaysersberg agreed to accommodate two Jewish families each, while Turckheim and the village of Ammerschwihr allowed only one Jewish household. ⁶ These regulations reflect a widespread trend in settlement politics throughout the German empire ⁷ and also informed the discourse on Jewish policy in Münzenberg, the primary focus of this case study. Both the Count of Solms, one of the co-rulers in town, and local officials of the Count of Hanau, referred to a supposedly existing limitation of residency rights to a maximum of two Jewish families at a time. Interestingly, however, the Count of Hanau himself, Reinhard of Hanau, patron of the local Jews, disputed this claim, stating that he was not aware that his predecessors made such an agreement. He pointed out that previous rulers had tolerated more than two Jewish families during their reign and saw no reason for a change in policy. ⁸

These restrictions on households posed a challenge for rural Jews who required a minyan, the minimum number of 10 adult males needed in order to form a representative ‘community of Israel’ for religious purposes. Consequently, isolated Jewish families often had to travel to use essential community institutions such as religious courts and cemeteries. The writ of protection given to the protagonist of this article, Anschel of Münzenberg, offers insight into the composition of a Jewish household of this time:

We, Reinhard count of Hanau, lord of Münzenberg, announce with this letter that we admitted Anschel the Jew and his wife Gutlin along with their four children and their daily servants to live as our Jews in Münzenberg. ⁹

In addition to the married couple and their children, the family also included a number of servants who shared residence with their masters. Accordingly, limiting Jewish households did not necessarily mean limiting the number of families. Anschel’s servants, who did not have independent rights in the town, may still have been ‘counted’ as part of the minyan for religious purposes, along with other tax-exempt individuals who may have lived temporarily or permanently in Münzenberg. That the Count of Hanau allowed Anschel to ‘take on a tax-exempt Schulklopfer (synagogue caller, shamash) of his favor’ ¹⁰ suggests the presence of other Jews in town who were not officially registered with the Münzenberg administration. The exact number of the local Jewish population, therefore, remains uncertain. Anschel’s four unnamed children were probably not religiously mature and were certainly unmarried. Married children, even if sharing a residence with their parents, were usually considered a separate entity, as the settlement policy of the Austrian Forelands stated explicitly in 1526 ¹¹ and as is copiously demonstrated elsewhere. ¹²

That being said, the status of married children within the restrictive settlement policies was, given the reliance on the often imprecisely defined term ‘household’ (Hausgesess ¹³ ), occasionally ambiguous or inconsistent, as illustrated by the following example. In 1470, Emperor Frederick III granted the town of Séléstat the right to restrict Jewish community size to ¹⁴ ‘No more than two houses with Jewish inhabitants.’ ¹⁵ Tax lists, however, show that several members of the same families stayed in town even after they became economically independent. ¹⁶ Thus, restricting the population by ‘houses’ instead of ‘families’ or ‘households’ ultimately offers little indication of actual community size. How many families could potentially share one building? The collective writ of protection issued in Schaffhausen in 1435 may serve as an indicator: Six families were granted citizenship, but their purchase of houses was limited to only two for the whole Jewish population, including servants. ¹⁷

As demonstrated, in the late Middle Ages, many towns and lordships aimed to regulate the migration of Jews to rural areas by imposing restrictions on the number of Jewish households or houses allowed in each location. While these policies provide some insight into the sizes of small communities, the imprecise definitions used in these regulations can potentially mean that there was a significant disparity between the supposed and actual Jewish population.

Settlement Policies and Jewish Agency: Institutional and Individual Spheres of Influence

Nevertheless, when law and legal enforcement went hand in hand in regions with such restrictive policies, the development of a functioning Jewish community could be heavily impaired. As a result, one might assume that the diplomatic efforts of the affected Jews were aimed at enlarging the impacted communities. However, a closer look reveals that this was not necessarily the case and that growth was not always a goal for Jewish communities. Internal Jewish regulation of immigration has a long tradition in Ashkenaz in the form of the right of settlement, the so-called Hezkat ha-Yishuv, or, conversely, the settlement ban, Herem ha-Yishuv. Emerging by the beginning of the eleventh century, both became important tools of Jewish self-government throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. When a community practised Herem ha-Yishuv, it asserted its authority to reject an immigrant through a vote by its members (or their council of representatives), thereby preventing the newcomer from seeking admission from the town’s civic authorities. ¹⁸ Motives for excluding certain individuals from joining the community were manifold, including keeping out morally questionable people, preventing anti-Jewish feelings among the Christians, overpopulation and so forth. According to Louis Rabinowitz, who investigated this custom in 1945, the main reason for the emergence of Herem ha-Yishuv was economic. Most Jews in the late Middle Ages were financially dependent on moneylending and trade, and too much competition endangered the prosperity of a community. The settlement ban was, therefore, used to balance the supply and demand of capital and commodities. Rabinowitz underpins his hypothesis by demonstrating that people who were not part of the economic system, such as rabbis, students and servants, were exempt from the ban. ¹⁹

By the fourteenth century, the number of responsa that address Herem ha-Yishuv decreased. When Rabbi Jacob Weil discussed its violation in a small community initially comprising five families in the fifteenth century, he asserted that the settlement ban should be annulled after the number of households further decreased to only two. According to his assessment, such a small population could not lay claim to the entire settlement. ²⁰ In his lifetime, the practice ceased to exist, coinciding with the migration of the majority of German Jews from urban to rural areas. ²¹ From this point forward, the power to make decisions about residency rights lay solely in the hands of civic and territorial authorities. These issued individual writs of protection based on political and economic considerations, instead of granting privileges to an institutionalised Jewish community and relying on its internal evaluation of communal needs.

Residency, therefore, did not necessarily align with membership in the local Jewish community—a distinction that gained in importance towards the end of the Middle Ages. ²² Jews could force their entrance into a town without the consent of its Jewish community by obtaining a writ of protection from the local government. ²³ This practice was criticised by Rabbi Moses Isserles in the sixteenth century, who explained that because one perpetrator did not face resistance by the afflicted community, ‘others who saw that … also came, and they rented houses there and stayed there with their families, and the restriction [of Hezkat Yishuv] was broken without permission’. ²⁴ Referring to Rabbi Joseph Colon Trabotto, Isserles, however, adamantly opposed the utilisation of non-Jewish rulers and their courts for the sake of settlement rights, encouraging the enforcement of excommunication of the offender. ²⁵

Despite being stripped of their official mechanism of population control, Jews maintained some influence over the local government’s selection and admission of co-religionists. Political efforts to shape the size and composition of the community, led by Parnassim, the community’s appointed officials, sought to establish or maintain a functional religious, cultural and social life, as well as to determine the makeup of community members based on their value to the collective. For instance, the sixteenth-century statutes of the Jewish community in Friedberg sought to control the type of Jews allowed to settle there by listing the significant financial obligations required. These included a communal tax imposed on those acquiring or inheriting houses in the town, ²⁶ an entrance fee and the payment of a mandatory contribution to the construction and maintenance of local institutions upon arrival. ²⁷ As this indicates, obtaining a writ of protection was not sufficient for acceptance into the local community. When newcomers failed to demonstrate their financial accountability and commitment by prepaying certain taxes, their residency was contested.

Jews living in rural towns with restrictive settlement policies allowing for only two households at a time could not effectively establish communal statues. Nevertheless, they found ways to engage in local negotiations concerning the terms of their residency. Depending on good relationships with their limited number of peers, Jews in villages and small towns had a keen interest in influencing the number and identity of any new settlers admitted. Turning to territorial lords, various courts and town councils, they recommended preferred immigrants, advocated for their relatives and business partners, or discredited current Jewish residents, urging for their departure. Anschel, for example, went so far as to campaign for the expulsion of his entire community, aiming for a long-term reduction of Jews in Münzenberg. His attempt to take control of the town’s demographic development, arguing independently against Jewish communal interests, offers valuable insights into the individual needs, motivations and challenges encountered by a Jewish pawnbroker operating within the agricultural society of the time.

A Self-made Expulsion: Anschel of Münzenberg and the Transformation of His Local Community

Anschel and his wife Gutlin had been living in the little town of Münzenberg in Hesse for some time, when, in April 1511, they negotiated with the chancellery to change the settlement policy and expel the other Jews. In this process, the couple and their four children gained a three-year writ of protection, issued the following November, ²⁸ and the right to ‘…take on another Jew of their favor, who is peaceful, to help them with the tax’. ²⁹ With the exception of a Schulklopfer, no other Jews were allowed to settle in Münzenberg. Those who already had writs of protection were initially permitted to remain until the end of their commitment ³⁰ but were soon after pushed out of the town by officials from Hanau, who were eager to reduce the Jewish population. ³¹ Gutlin and Anschel’s self-serving intervention provided them with a welcome opportunity to expel the majority of Jews and gain control of the number and identity of those few who remained.

To understand the impetus behind their behaviour, one must consider the conflicting claims of different members of the nobility to the town Münzenberg and the Jews who lived there in the years prior to 1511. Starting in the middle of the thirteenth century, Münzenberg became a so-called Ganerbschaft, a place of joint governance. Upon the death of Ulrich II of Münzenberg, who died without a male descendant in 1255, his inheritance was split among his six sisters and passed into the hands of their husbands, including the Count of Hanau; each received a one-sixth share in the town. ³² While the co-ruling house of Falkenstein succeeded in uniting the remaining shares of the town government under their authority over the course of the century, their line eventually went extinct, leaving their rights in the town in equal shares to the noble houses of Solms and Eppstein. These two families then managed the shared estate together with the Counts of Hanau, who had continuously held onto their small fraction of rights. Instead of dividing up clear realms of responsibility and distinct territories, the Ganerben (co-heirs), ruled together over the entirety of the town. Political decisions had to be negotiated between all parties, making governance a complex process, but enabling all involved rulers to profit from the prestige, tactical value and resources offered by Münzenberg. ³³

While Hanau’s part in the government was almost negligible, they also held the local Judenregal, the imperial privilege to rule and guard over the Jews. ³⁴ This enabled them to grant residency to or expel Jews and the right to impose taxes upon them. As a result, the Jews were legally separated from the territorial government and did not report to the lords of Solms and Eppstein despite living within their territory. This exemption from the general government caused tension between the Ganerben. The lords of Solms in particular tried to pressure the Count of Hanau to expel the Jews. ³⁵ For instance, in 1502 Philipp of Solms complained to the chancery that despite there allegedly being a limit of two Jewish households in Münzenberg, seven families in fact lived there. Moreover, the source states that these Jews had not acquired ‘Jewish citizenship’ (Judenbürgerschaft) as they were supposed to do. As for how to acquire this special citizenship in Münzenberg, the source only states that they had to pay an admission fee. ³⁶ As Matthias Schmandt points out, the general lack of standardised terms for Jewish citizenship in the medieval period ³⁷ made it an easily abused tool for Philipp’s political agenda. Philipp further argued that the tax revenue was not worth the trouble and that the Jews took living space away from Christian citizens. ³⁸ The county of Hanau rejected all these grievances, pointing to the number of vacant houses in the vicinity and denying knowledge of the supposed settlement limit. Furthermore, the town court had revoked the citizenship of the Jews wrongfully and had already been penalised for this presumption and now supported the residency and citizenship of the present Jewish settlers. ³⁹ Solms was undeterred by this setback in his attempt to expel the Jewish population from Münzenberg. Six years later, for example, the Ganerben offered to redeem half of the Jewish tax as compensation for the losses that would be incurred by the Count of Hanau, should he agree to their expulsion. ⁴⁰

When Gutlin and Anschel petitioned the county in 1511, they sought to profit from this constant and ongoing struggle between the authorities. Accepting fewer Jews while obtaining the same tax revenue could have served as a compromise between the Ganerben and the Count of Hanau, giving the Jewish couple hope for increased political stability and influence. An examination of the pair’s supplications to the town council and its lords reveals three main motives for Jewish individuals to advocate for the expulsion of fellow Jewish residents: distribution of the tax burden, economic competition and personal relationships and conflicts.

Tax Sharing

When it came to drafting settlement policies, financial gain was a significant factor in assessing the risks and opportunities associated with granting protection to Jews. The profitability and social implications of the taxes that Jews had to pay to their government or guardian on a yearly basis, depended on which method was used to determine the tax rate. ⁴¹

One option was to impose a collective tax burden on the entire Jewish community in a locality. In this way, the Jews themselves had the responsibility of assigning each member’s contribution. They could adjust to the changing welfare of their members without the involvement of the civil authorities. ⁴² For their part, the city governments made their own lives simpler without compromising the level of revenue, by keeping the potential for conflict solely within the Jewish community. Taxation features prominently in responsa literature, ⁴³ and civic court registers contain numerous instances in which one Jew complained about another, claiming that they did not pay their fair share of taxes and demanding the redistribution of obligations. ⁴⁴ This form of taxation was often found in cities, where Jewish communities were big and prosperous enough to develop mechanisms of self-governance. An example of this was noted above, when the Jews of Friedberg implemented strict rules to ensure that newcomers had the financial ability to contribute to the collective tax burden. ⁴⁵

Another option was individual agreements. Territorial lords, who received the right to settle and impose taxes on Jews as an imperial pawn, entered into individual agreements with their subjects. Each Jewish individual’s writ of protection outlined their annual tax obligation for a specified duration. This model of taxation became standard by the end of the Middle Ages. The assessment of taxable income was based on negotiations between both parties. While Jews could easily commit fraud by giving false information and hiding valuable stock, pretending economic weakness was not necessarily helpful to them. In fact, the capital of any Jewish individual was one of the main incentives for rulers to admit them in the first place, along with the prestige attached to the patronage of these Jews and the expectation that they would contribute positively to the regional economy. The higher the poll tax Jews were willing and able to pay, the more attractive they became to local rulers and the more promising their prospects of receiving favourable conditions. The amount agreed upon and the terms of payment were set out in the writ of protection, which specified the rights and obligations of residency and trade in towns and villages under territorial rule. The advantage for the patron was clear: Whatever the economic fate of the taxpayer over the course of the year, the tax he owed remained unchanged. Failure to pay this sum not only resulted in debt but also jeopardised their right of residency, allowing the patron to replace the debtor with a presumably wealthier Jewish individual.

In Münzenberg, Anschel and Gutlin were certainly among the wealthiest Jewish residents. Before the cancellation of the writs of protection of their three co-religionists, the whole community paid 12 guilders per year to the Count of Hanau, as stated in the complaints of his co-rulers. ⁴⁶ The families of David and Isaac Sachs, who were originally meant to stay until 1513, raised two and three guilders, respectively. ⁴⁷ The writ of protection of the third Jewish resident, Joseph, as well as Anschel’s initial acceptance to the town, have not been found, so their contribution to the 12 guilders remains subject to speculation. Anschel certainly paid a larger portion of the remaining seven guilders than Joseph and his family. It was probably because of his financial predominance that he and Gutlin brought the issue of tax distribution to the local authorities. Committing to take on the entire amount of the owed tax revenue they, thus, removed any incentive for the local government to allow the other Jews to remain in the city. In an agreement made in April 1511 before the chancery of Hanau, Gutlin pledged ‘in the name of her husband Anschel to deliver to my gracious lord in the next year 24 guilders’. ⁴⁸ Within one year the couple had to compensate for the loss of their co-religionists tax contribution and even double it. Although they remained solely responsible for this sum, the Count of Hanau granted the couple the support of a second Jewish settler of Anschel’s choice:

[He] shall take on another Jew of his favor who is peaceful to help him pay the tax, but Anschel shall guarantee it, and no Jew other than the Schulklopfer shall be there. ⁴⁹

Additionally, David, Isaac and Joseph, the Jews who had all received their writ of protection only one year prior to this unexpected change of policy, ⁵⁰ had to give their tax payment to Anschel until the completion of the settlement privilege. ⁵¹ In this sense, Anschel served the Count of Hanau initially as a tax collector for the Jewish community during a period of calculated reduction of this troublesome minority.

By subsuming several families in one writ of protection, with shared rights and obligations, territorial lords could reduce their involvement with their subjects. Instead of four different privileges for four different Jewish families, Hanau’s administrative efforts were reduced to only one privilege that served as the legal basis of three parties: Anschel and Gutlin, their self-chosen subordinate and the tax-exempted Schulklopfer. Arrangements like these were mostly made for family members, such as children-in-law who joined their parents’ household, ⁵² as well as, occasionally, between siblings. ⁵³ It is rare, however, for the hierarchy among the partners to be as striking as it is in this case. Choosing a partner was a challenge for this ambitious businessman. On the one hand, he would not want this fellow citizen to present him with any serious competition. On the other hand, it was preferable that he bear as high a share of the tax burden as possible. Anschel’s choice was a man named Gumprecht, who, upon arriving in town, agreed to contribute only five guilders to the tax of 24 guilders. ⁵⁴ Apparently, this was insufficient to secure Anschel’s financial situation. When, as it turned out, he was unable to keep his promises to the count, Anschel brought two bailsmen to guarantee the payment of his debt and was subsequently forced to leave the town, while Gumprecht faced no consequences. ⁵⁵

Managing Competition

Anschel’s role in Münzenberg not only constituted a financial burden and required him to take responsibility for his partner but also granted him significant power over his living environment and economic competition. After the finalisation of Anschel’s new writ of protection, city officials went one step further and requested the early expulsion of the remaining Jews before their original writ of protection expired, arguing that Anschel was prevented from fulfilling his obligation due to the remaining competition:

And if it will be granted to the aforementioned Jews Isaac, David, and Joseph to live in Münzenberg for a longer time …, so that they will continue to lend and conduct business, it will be impossible for Anschel to acquire the aforementioned 24 guilders every year. ⁵⁶

This argument is not exceptional, on either the Christian or the Jewish side. For example, in 1521, the Jew Moshe Heller in Bräunlingen was incarcerated for attempting to cancel his tax obligations to the town due to unexpected economic competition. On 26th September, his wife Kol petitioned the territorial court in Ensisheim on his behalf, filing a lawsuit against the town:

Although [the council] of Bräunlingen guaranteed and set up a written agreement for her husband Moshe, that they will not admit a Jew against his will, they admitted nevertheless another Jew named Nathan. When the aforementioned Jew Moshe complained to them, that, albeit humbly paying a considerable tribute for his residency, his guarantee and seal was not adhered to, so that he was caused to sue in front of the government [of Ensisheim], [Bräunlingen] took him under arrest. ⁵⁷

Apparently, Moshe and Kol’s writ of protection included a paragraph granting him and his son-in-law exclusivity within the town. ⁵⁸ When Moshe tried to claim his rights at the territorial court, he was arrested under false pretences, in order to keep him from taking legal steps. He was then forced, under duress and torture, into an Urfehde, an oath of truce worth 15 guilders. ⁵⁹ The advocate of the town claimed a month later, that, on the contrary, Moshe himself had asked for the admission of the newcomer and that his wife Kol, whose character they proceeded to besmirch, was trying to fraud the town by unlawfully claiming compensation for the legally binding act of Urfehde. ⁶⁰

Assuming that Moshe’s imprisonment began in April 1521, ⁶¹ the new Jewish settlers likely entered Bräunlingen before this date. The final verdict of the bailiwick Ensisheim, for which the victim had to wait until February 1524, specified that the complaint concerned not only Nathan Selbwert but also his son Hirsch, who had an independent business, and another relative named Moshe Selbwert. ⁶² Thus, including Moshe Heller’s son-in-law, the total number of Jewish families in town rose to at least five. These circumstances, as the government in Ensisheim concludes:

…caused notable harm to the petitioner, since many people in their profession impeded and harmed him, so that he could not give the noted sum of money, namely sixteen guilders for protection … and by that he was caused to leave from [Bräunlingen]. ⁶³

The small town lacked the scope to provide sufficient business opportunities for two pawnbrokers and the community was too small to support a Jewish craftsman. By increasing the number of Jewish residents allowed to settle in the city, the council of Bräunlingen, thus, caused the collapse of the economic balance between the Jewish and Christian townspeople. Moshe Heller could not afford to pay the tax and declared his residency agreement invalid due to breach of contract, announcing that he would leave the town the following year.

On the basis of the arguments and evidence brought forward by the family’s lawyer Juda, the regional government in Ensisheim sided repeatedly with Kol and Moshe. On 23rd March 1523, the judge of Upper Alsace declared the falsely sworn Urfehde invalid, allowing them to pursue compensation for the admission of Nathan and his kinsmen. ⁶⁴ In a second court proceeding, which ended in 1524, the town was held liable and ordered to pay compensation to Moshe Heller, in the form of 50 guilders. Heller, for his part, estimated that his losses in fact came to the much higher sum of 500 guilders. ⁶⁵ Considering the duration of his hardship, this was certainly not a very favourable outcome to all his legal efforts. It also raises the question as to why there was such a delay between the original court case, in 1521, and the final outcome in 1524, leaving Kol and Moshe in financial and legal suspense for over three years.

The delay might have been because the court in Bräunlingen was busy with a much more scandalous affair: In September 1522, it sentenced Nathan Selbwert and his son Hirsch, for whose immigration Bräunlingen had broken its contract with Moshe Heller, to death by fire. ⁶⁶ The two had been caught attempting to pass forged coins to a pilgrim in the nearby town of Villingen several months prior. As reported by the chronicler of Villingen, the investigation, which also involved the territorial government in Ensisheim, led to the discovery of significant amounts of counterfeit money and the tools for its production, proving the existence of a large-scale criminal operation. ⁶⁷ The town confiscated their assets, worth 400 guilders, reaping a substantial profit from this scandal despite presumably losing credibility in its dispute with Moshe Heller, who had fought against the admission of the delinquents in the first place. This incident not only might be an explanation for the adjournment of the trial but also supports the assumption that Moshe would, indeed, have struggled to maintain his business living side by side with Nathan and Hirsch. Their scheme provided them with abundant capital and required that they play a particularly active role in the money exchange and pawn broking business of the town and broader region to replace the counterfeits with legitimate coins and assets. Moshe, whose capital was limited by fair play, could not compete with a business that was not dependent for its profits on charging interest.

For Anschel of Münzenberg, economic competition also played a significant role. In committing to pay the entire share of the taxes, he must have expected that his business would expand considerably at the expense of those Jews who had to leave the town. He clearly assumed that, given the need of the peasants and craftspeople of Münzenberg and its rural surroundings for capital, he would be able to develop a monopoly on lending and pawn broking, with all the resulting money flowing his way alone. Town officials actively promoted this market restructuring by acquiescing to his request that his competitors be expelled. ⁶⁸

Personal Relationships and Conflicts

Beyond financial struggles, Jews were motivated to intervene in settlement policies for social reasons. Residing in a small town with its perforce intimate social and religious circle presented its own set of challenges, as evidenced by the numerous internal Jewish conflicts brought before municipal and territorial courts. An example from the nearby town Assenheim shows the active involvement of Jews in the selection of incoming community members. Like Münzenberg, this town also accepted only two Jewish households at a time. One of these families, Manel and his wife and children, decided to relocate to Friedberg in 1537, ⁶⁹ leaving an opening for a new family to take its place. Haim, the newly married son of the other Jewish family in Assenheim, was eager to stay in his hometown with his wife and the children to come. Being considered a new household, without a writ of protection he would be forced to leave the town of his upbringing. But Manel had already made arrangements to give his place to a foreigner, as Haim complained in his supplication to the county of Hanau. ⁷⁰ The issue was further complicated by the previously inconsistent enforcement of the settlement restrictions. Manel himself owed his admission to the town to his father-in-law Raphael. In 1534, Count Balthasar of Hanau allowed Manel to either move into Raphael’s house or get his own house in the town. ⁷¹ Rather than filling a vacancy within the town community, he was extended the right of residency of his kinsman, on whom he was dependent. On which grounds did he feel entitled to decide about his own successor?

The example illustrates that family ties were advantageous for immigrating Jews seeking a writ of protection. Relatives of those already under the rule of the local authority benefited from a shortened line of communication. However, some Jewish authorities were critical of such favouritism. For example, in the thirteenth century, Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg explained that even relatives of community members had to seek approval from the Jewish community before turning to civic authorities ⁷² ; the community of Friedberg deliberately chose not to favour newcomers who married local widows over those without such ties ⁷³ ; and Rabbi Yair Chaim Bacharach ruled in the seventeenth century that a resident of Trier, who promised to use his influence to provide his brother-in-law with a settlement permit, could not be held accountable for his failure, as it was ultimately something beyond his control. ⁷⁴ Therefore, according to Jewish community leaders, family members had no inherent right to join a community solely based on ties of kinship. ⁷⁵

Nonetheless, family bonds were one of the most common arguments brought to authorities for granting special settlement permits, as many cases in nearby Frankfurt demonstrate. ⁷⁶ In fact, the right to keep a child-in-law in town was, in some cases, even stated in individual writs of protection. ⁷⁷ At the same time, the ambiguous definition of ‘household’ discussed earlier in this article (pp. 5–7) provided an opportunity for Jews to exploit loopholes in order to maintain their family unity. Thus, seeking to control Jewish demographic growth, the city of Wertheim, for example, mandated in 1552 that children-in-law, including those living in their parents’ house, were obligated to obtain an independent writ of protection. ⁷⁸

Both Manel and Haim lived in Assenheim based on the writ of protection of the heads of their family. Neither had an explicit right to obtain residency for themselves or another Jew but brought their reputations and negotiation skills to bear when appealing to the authorities. In this case, the decision of the county is unknown, as is Manel’s supplication. Haim humbly requested that the Count of Hanau: ‘take me as your subject before a stranger and grant me to live with my father in Assenheim. I will do my duties to my lord gladly and willingly’. ⁷⁹ While a foreigner could be an unpredictable risk to the town’s peace and the county’s tax revenue, Haim presented himself as the safe alternative, being already known and well established.

Anschel of Münzenberg’s new writ of protection set forth a clear hierarchy between him and Gumprecht of Schierstein, as indicated by the latter’s right of settlement being limited to only ‘one year, until the expiration of Anschel’s privilege’. ⁸⁰ Gumprecht’s lack of independence demonstrates the extent of political agency Anschel was able to exercise. Anschel was allowed to build his own micro-community, whether it was with a trusted confidant, a business partner or even a family member, and he remained in charge in case the partnership developed unfavourably. On the other hand, he also had to guarantee that Gumprecht would keep to the terms of the contract, including the prohibition to practice usury or appeal to foreign courts. This agreement was written in Gumprecht’s writ of protection, with two members of the regional lower nobility sealing in his name. ⁸¹

By issuing such specific privileges, the county and town were apparently trying to reduce public discord among the Jewish minority as well as between the Jews and the rest of the town population. Accordingly, in the town’s recommendation to expel the Jews prior to the expiration date of their protection, the officials support their decision by referring to a female Jewish resident as a troublemaker who frequently incurred public disapproval in weddings and other festivities. ⁸² It is possible that it was Anschel and Gutlin themselves who were responsible for impugning this woman’s reputation in order to support their petition. However, damaging the reputation of unwelcome Jews, especially the politically active Jewish women of this period, was a common strategy of town representatives in general. We saw the same tactic employed in the case of Moshe and Kol Heller, above, in which Kol’s character was attacked in response to her tireless efforts to have her husband released from prison in Bräunlingen. ⁸³

Whilst Gumprecht complied with his legal provisions, Anschel was subjected to so many instances of seizures and extortion by the competing lords of Münzenberg ⁸⁴ that he was unable to meet his tax requirements. In the spring of 1514, Anschel was forced to give up his residence in the town, half a year before his writ of protection was due to expire. ⁸⁵ Interestingly, six months earlier, in November 1513, a Jew named Jossel received a writ of protection from the town of Münzenberg, granting him exactly the same rights as Anschel. ⁸⁶ In fact, the day after this privilege was issued, Anschel was called to the government to set the terms of his debt redemption. ⁸⁷ It seems like the town was already preparing for his departure and afterwards confirmed Gumprecht, who was technically bound to leave with him, as Jossel’s new partner.

Despite Anschel’s failure, his case became the basis for a longer-term settlement policy. ⁸⁸ Jossel and Gumprecht were cited to the chancery of Hanau and later consulted the rabbinic court in Friedberg to resolve a conflict over their shared tax burden, which indicates that the arrangement, put in place by Anschel, was maintained. ⁸⁹ In August 1515, Gumprecht left for Lindheim, almost certainly because of this conflict with his superior Jossel and the verdict reached by the rabbinical court on this matter. ⁹⁰ For his part, as long as Jossel kept up his financial obligations, he retained the upper hand among the Jewish residents of Münzenberg and could shape his community according to his needs.

Conclusion

The presented case study reveals the economic and social interests at play in medieval Ashkenaz, along with the strategic political agency of Jews in a small-town context. Its micro-historic perspective enables a shift in focus from the Jewish community as the main parameter of a prosperous and attractive Jewish lifestyle, to one that indicates that, despite the fact that scholars often discuss the disadvantages of Jewish life in the countryside after the urban expulsions of the fifteenth century, there were perhaps valid reasons for desiring independence from communal structures that led individual Jews to choose to take up residence in areas remote from the larger cities with their established Jewish communities. Faced with the choice of either embracing communal living or pursuing higher status and greater influence as individuals, Gutlin and Anschel chose to bypass their Jewish peers and establish an economic and political monopoly by playing on the power struggles of territorial lords.

Micro-historic studies like this provide only a small window into the reality of Jewish life in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. However, selecting a single well-documented case that highlights the perspectives of various Jewish and Christian actors, it encourages broader questions for social historic research. For instance, what were the distinctive features of Jewish diplomacy within the realm of territorial law? Scholars have proposed that overlapping claims to authority within the German territories favoured the establishment of Jewish communities by opening several parallel channels of politic negotiation. ⁹¹ Building on this, the current study suggests that disunited governments could also fuel internal Jewish power struggles. It shows that Münzenberg’s tiny community, having failed to develop a robust social cohesion, was unable to prevent Gutlin and Anschel from utilising government weakness to pursue status and power against the collective interest.

Jews living in small communities were limited in their ability to establish communal law and bodies of political representation in their relationships with municipal and territorial government. This leads to the question of whether Jews without immediate access to a fully functioning Jewish community had a comparable level of identification with their place of residence as Jews from larger and more prestigious communities. One also wonders if their isolation led to greater personal involvement with their Christian neighbours. Similarly, the practice of granting individual writs of protection instead of communal privileges might have resulted in more personal relationships between Jews and their patrons, encouraging individuals to advocate for their own particular interests without taking the needs or interests of their few local peers into consideration. At the same time, the question of exactly how large the Jewish populations of the small towns and villages were is a challenging one. This is exemplified, for instance, by the presence of the synagogue caller in Münzenberg. The rationale behind maintaining such a role in a community with just two Jewish families and a supposedly minimal communal structure is one that warrants scrutiny. Furthermore, this type of resident raises the issue of how to investigate tax-exempted inhabitants, who were limited in their rights and influence in town society, and are therefore often unrepresented in existing sources. Rural Jewish populations could, thus, have been more numerous than commonly suspected.

While the political and social dynamics between the Jews and the lords of Münzenberg should only cautiously be understood as typical of broader behaviour patterns, similar examples from other small towns do exist and encourage further research. Identifying parallel developments in neighbouring communities and other rural areas with a Jewish population promises to result in a more nuanced picture of the involvement of Jews in local politics, their role within the regional economy and their internal social network. This case study contributes to this endeavour by revealing that despite, or even because of, a lack of communal structures, Jews in rural areas were able to exercise a considerable degree of political agency in navigating and shaping their local environments.