Glückel’s description of her early childhood offers a glimpse of the precariousness of Jewish life and tenacity of early modern Jewish communities. Despite the fact they were forced to move from town to town, subjected to heavy taxes, and exposed to the ever-present threat of anti-Jewish violence, Glückel and her family prospered. Their success was due, in no small measure, to the strength of the Jewish community of which they were a part. In good times, the more fortunate members of the community sought ways to share their success with their less fortunate brethren. In bad times, the community banded together for mutual protection and support. As you read this excerpt from The Memoirs of Glückel of Hameln, pay attention to the evidence it provides of the importance of community to early modern Jews. How did the bonds of community help mitigate the hardships they faced?

My good mother brought me into the world, the year of Creation 5407 [1646–47], in this city of Hamburg. Even if our sages say, “it is better not to be born,” meaning that men have so much to endure in this sinful world, still I thank and praise my Creator that He made me according to His will and beg Him to take me under His holy charge.

My father gave his children, girls and boys, a secular as well as a religious education. And whoever came hungry to my father’s house went forth fed and satisfied.

Before I was three years old, the German Jews, I am told, were all driven out of Hamburg. Thereupon they settled in Altona which belonged to the King of Denmark, who readily gave them letters of protection. This city of Altona lies barely a quarter of an hour from Hamburg.

About twenty-five Jewish families were previously settled in Altona, where we had our synagogue and cemetery. After we newcomers had remained there for some time, we finally succeeded with great difficulty in persuading the authorities of Hamburg to grant passes to Altona Jews, so we might enter to do business in that city. Such a pass was valid for four weeks, it was issued by the burgomaster and cost one ducat; when it expired another had to be procured in its stead. However, if you got to know the burgomaster or his officials, the old pass might be renewed for a second four weeks.

This meant, God knows, a great hardship for our people, for all their business lay in Hamburg. Naturally, many a poor and needy wretch would try to slip in the city without a pass. If the officials caught him, he was thrust into prison, and then it cost all of us money to get him out again. In the early dawn, as soon as our folks were out of the synagogue, they went down to Hamburg, and towards evening, when the gates were closed, back they came to Altona. Coming home, our poor folks often took their life in their hands because of the hatred for the Jews rife among the dockhands, soldiers and others of the meaner classes. The good wife, sitting home, often thanked God when her husband turned up safe and sound.

In those days we were hardly forty families all told. No one was very rich, but everyone earned an honest living. Chayim Fürst was the richest among us, with a fortune of 10,000 Reichsthalers, then came my father, of blessed memory, with 8000, others followed with 6000, and a few more with 2000. But great love and a close community in spirit reigned among them, and in general they all enjoyed a better life than the richest man today. If a man were worth only 500 Reichsthalers, he could well be satisfied; and everyone was happier with whatever he had than nowadays when even the rich can never get enough. Of them, indeed, it is said: none dies seeing the half of his wishes fulfilled. As for my father, no man had a greater trust in God; and if it hadn’t been for the gout, he would have further increased his fortune. But, as it was, he was able to set up his children in a decent respectable style.

When I was about ten years old, war broke out between the Swedes and the King of Denmark, God heighten his fame! There is little new I can tell of it, for I was still a child and forced to remain at my studies. I do remember we had the coldest winter known for fifty years; and it was called the “Swedish winter” because, everything being frozen, the Swedes overran the country. Once, on a Sabbath, the alarm went forth: “The Swedes are coming!” It was early in the morning and everyone was still asleep. We leaped from our beds, nebbich, and ran fairly naked all the way to Hamburg, where we took up posts of defence, some with the Sephardim and some with the Christian burghers.

In this way we remained in the city a short while without permission. Finally, my good father was able to arrange matters, and he was the first German Jew allowed to resettle in Hamburg. Others followed suit, and soon almost all were back in Hamburg again. Those who had always lived in Altona continued, of course, to stay there.

Government taxes were light in those days, and everyone regulated his own settlement. But we had no synagogue and no right of residence; we dwelt in Hamburg purely at the mercy and favour of the Town Council.

Yet somehow the German Jews managed to come together and hold prayers in private houses, as best they could. If the Council got wind of it, at least they winked at the matter. But when the clergy discovered it, they became intolerant and drove us forth, and then like timid sheep we had to betake ourselves to the synagogue in Altona. This lasted a good while, till we crept back to our little Hamburg prayer-rooms. So from time to time we enjoyed peace, and again were hunted forth; and so it has been to this day and, I fear, will continue in like fashion as long as the burghers rule Hamburg. May the Lord, in the abundance of His mercy and loving-kindness, have compassion on us and send us His righteous Messiah, so that we may serve Him with all our heart and once more offer our prayers in the holy Temple in the holy city of Jerusalem! Amen.

Source: Marvin Lowenthal, trans., The Memoirs of Glückel of Hameln (New York: Harper and Bros., 1932), pp. 5–9.

Questions to Consider