Travel from Bukowska 11A by tram towards the Małe Garbary stop, and then continue on foot to Żydowska Street.
Żydowska Street—referred to in the sources as Judenstrasse—was one of the most important addresses in Jewish Poznań. Within the street itself and its immediate vicinity were concentrated houses and market stalls; a bathhouse and communal institutions operated here, while religious life centred on the synagogue. If one has to choose a single place from which to begin exploring Jewish Poznań, it is precisely this street.
The oldest mentions of Jews in Poznań date to the fourteenth century. Sources from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries speak chiefly of what entered official record: debts, trade, property, and disputes. We do not know, however, how numerous the community was at the time, nor what its everyday functioning looked like.
Urban tradition works on a separate track. The year 1399 is associated with the legend of the “three hosts”, set in the area of the former Żydowska Street. Its trace in the city’s space is the Church of the Most Holy Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ on Żydowska Street. Whatever the genesis of the story itself, it is worth remembering that for centuries it shaped perceptions of Jews and became embedded in the city’s topography.
A clearer, more tangible picture of Żydowska Street and its surroundings emerges in the sixteenth century. Three recurrent issues come into view: the market, overcrowding, and the right of residence. In 1523, a royal regulation of trade was issued. Retail trade was restricted; Jews were directed towards “wholesale” exchange; purchasing goods “ahead of Christians” was prohibited; and trading at stalls during fairs was curtailed. These were practical rules: they concerned who may sell, when, and where.
On 2 May 1536, a great fire broke out, the origin of which was associated with the Żydowska Street area. After the catastrophe, the town council sought to remove Jews from the city. The king refused: he agreed neither to expulsion nor to resettling the community outside the walls. This episode shows how easily a dispute over trade and housing could turn into an attempt to abolish the community.
In the years 1544–1549, pressure on settlement and trade intensified, and the community signed an agreement with the city authorities. The document dealt with basic matters: the number of Jewish houses, the Schös tax, and obligations concerning reconstruction and the maintenance of buildings and infrastructure (including, among other things, a slaughterhouse). One clause is especially telling: Jews were assigned a place for walks behind the Dominican monastery, opened and closed like city gates, with the key deposited overnight with the mayor. This shows the scale of control: not only trade and housing were regulated, but movement as well.
The sixteenth century also yields data on the scale of settlement: in the first half of the century, 49 masonry houses are recorded in Judenstrasse itself; in 1549 there is mention of c. 80 houses; and for 1567 an estimate of at least 3,000 people appears. A “masonry house” did not mean a single-family home in today’s sense; it was often a multi-room building, frequently with a commercial section and rental units. The figures nonetheless make one point clear: a large concentration of population in a small area of the city centre.
The year 1571 brought an important privilege. It contained procedural guarantees (including a ban on being tried by non-Jewish courts on the Sabbath and the right of appeal), recognised the powers of communal elders to discipline members of the community—up to and including expulsion—and ordered the protection of the synagogue and cemetery against attacks. This provision responds to a real threat.
The years 1577–1580 were marked by serious disturbances. The sources describe them through specific sites: the synagogue and stalls were plundered, and the bathhouse was destroyed. The trial following these events ended without compensation. This is significant: violence struck the district’s infrastructure, and formal proceedings did not result in redress.
From the beginning of the seventeenth century, the story moves into an institutional phase. In 1620, a ban was introduced on Jewish settlement in the suburbs. The year 1621 marks the beginning of entries in the Pinkas ksherim, the community’s register of electors. Portions also survive of the Sefer ha-zikhronot—the community’s protocol book—reaching back to the end of the sixteenth century. These two surviving Hebrew pinkasim (official communal registers) are crucial because they show the community “from within”: residence rights, taxes, rents, marriage matters, and the election of authorities.
In the seventeenth century, the community functioned as a form of self-government. The authorities were chosen by the ksherim—electors; in Poznań there were seven of them. Rabbis and the rabbinical court (beit din) operated, fulfilling liturgical functions as well as administrative and judicial roles in internal matters. The kahal thus dealt not only with religion, but also with internal administrative and fiscal affairs.
If one asks about demography, the sources provide no birth statistics, although it is known that Jewish families were large. What is visible, however, is a mechanism that affected the number of new households: the regulation of marriages. Marriages with a person from outside the community required the authorities’ consent; it was refused if the bride or groom “from outside” did not bring at least 400 Polish złoty into the joint property. Later, annual limits on marriages for the less affluent and temporary bans on weddings appear. In practice, the issue was housing capacity and tax burdens.
Wealth and poverty are best seen in numbers. The community set rent ceilings: 80 złoty for a two-room flat and 100 złoty for three rooms. By comparison, a rabbi’s annual salary is sometimes recorded as 230 złoty, and that of two physicians as 200 złoty each. These proportions show how easily rent could lead to debt—and why the community maintained strict oversight.
To this were added moral and social regulations. The kahal’s ordinances countered displays of wealth: in 1629 the wearing of satin and damask was prohibited; later, gold, silver, and silk were banned as well; and the number of guests at feasts was limited according to the amount of tax paid by the host. The rationale was practical: to reduce internal conflict within the community and not to provoke hostility among Christian neighbours.
In the eighteenth century, the picture closes with a single figure. In 1774, the community’s indebtedness was estimated at the enormous sum of 947,000 złoty. This amount conveys the burden of obligations in the late pre-partition period: the community endured, but operated under constant pressure from debt and the costs of maintaining communal institutions.
