Note: In this postscript, I discuss the timing and path of construction of the Austrian Ferdinand Northern Railway vis a vis the Wilhelmsbahn Railway, and its likely impact on the family-owned hotel establishment in Ratibor, Prussia, which at least for some time likely benefited from the routing.
Multiple of my earlier posts have discussed the family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. Based on the evidence I’ve amassed, I’m convinced that my family owned the hotel from the time it was built sometime between 1846 and 1850, and that its construction was tied to the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor which began service there on the 1st of January 1846.
There are at least two reference points that prove the “Prinz von Preußen” was in existence by 1850. First, the hotel is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent: Being A Guide Through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and Along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] and Vienna, Austria. (Figures 1a-b) Second, a notice published announced a recital by the noted Austrian composer Johann Strauss II (1825-1899) at the Prinz von Preußen on the 17th of October 1850. (Figure 2) The composer performed at the hotel while on his way to Vienna, then again a month later on the 17th of November 1850 on his way back through. (Figure 3)
Following publication of Post 156, I did further research on the Wilhelmsbahn or Upper Silesian railway. Just to remind readers, the Wilhelmsbahn was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel—Gleiwitz) (today: Wrocław—Opole—Kozle—Gliwice) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand Railway. (Figures 4a-b; 5) Construction of this railway through Ratibor for the first time connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
During my research, I stumbled on the following mention of the opening of the railroad in Racibórz:
“In 1846, the first section of the Wilhelm Railway ((German: Wilhelmsbahn, currently railway line No. 151) connecting Racibórz with Koźle was opened. In Koźle, the line connected with the Upper Silesian Railway ((German: Oberschlesische Eisenbahn) connecting Upper Silesia with Wrocław. In 1847, Wilhelm’s Railway was extended to Bohumín. In the years 1855–1858 further sections of the Wilhelm Railway connecting Racibórz with Katowice through Rybnik (currently railway line No. 140) were opened.”
This obscure reference comes from a report entitled “Road to Rail Potential shift of transport flows” published by the so-called Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Suffice it to say, that TRITIA is a “European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation” in which three regions of Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic cooperate to improve coordination and planning of freight transport.
This seemingly insignificant mention of the Wilhelmsbahn Railway caused me to reexamine the references I’d consulted earlier related to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway and reconsider the timing and route of its construction. In the process, I discovered I’d left readers a bit hanging as to where exactly the Wilhelmsbahn Railway connected with the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway after it left Ratibor. This, in turn, made me realize the Wilhelmsbahn Railway played a more significant role in the region’s economic development than I’d previously understood and that this no doubt resulted in significantly more business for my family’s hotel in Ratibor. Let me explain.
The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company that existed during the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The main line of this railway was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia, east of Krakau [today: Kraków, Poland]. Bochnia is located on the river Raba in southern Poland, and the salt mine there is the oldest functioning one in Europe, built in the 13th century.
The Ferdinand Northern Railway never directly reached Kraków or the salt mines in Bochnia. The first rail connection from Vienna to Krakau took place via Oderberg (Bohumín), Ratibor, Kosel, and Myslowitz, and this was provided by the Wilhelmsbahn and the Oberschlesische Eisenbahn (Upper Silesian Railway). The line from Myslowitz to Krakau was built by the Krakau-Oberschlesische Bahn (Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway). Bearing in mind that the towns that are today in the Czech Republic were once part of the Austrian Empire, an entirely Austrian route from Vienna to Krakau did not exist until 1856, nine years after the Ferdinand Northern Railway reached Oderberg (Bohumín) and a full ten years after the Wilhelmsbahn railroad reached Ratibor.
In reviewing the construction timeline of the Ferdinand Northern Railway what I previously failed to fully comprehend is that the Wilhelmsbahn Railway was completed before the Northern Railway’s segment from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau. The significance is that at least for some period Ratibor was an important transit point for people traveling between Vienna and Krakau, and the Bruck’s Hotel would have provided the then-modern amenities voyagers sought. Following completion of the more direct route from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau would have meant that some business was lost, although Ratibor would have continued as a logical way station for people traveling to Breslau, Berlin, and points west from there.
Coincidentally, on the same page as the Prinz von Preußen is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” Oderberg and the Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn (i.e., Ferdinand Northern Railway) are also discussed. The train coming from Prague to the west connected to the Ferdinand Northern Railway via Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] in Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic]. (Figure 7)
Note: A page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie translated by one of my cousins discussing trade and commerce in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland) at the time includes a discussion of the regional railway companies involved and the route by which the train arrived in town. The places mentioned provide an opportunity for me to introduce unfamiliar readers to the Meyers Gazetteer, a compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, to better visualize things.
It doesn’t come naturally to me to be curious. My parents were not patient people who would encourage nor answer an endless stream of innocent queries. This line of questioning was quickly squelched. I admire people to whom this trait comes instinctively, who grew up in a more nurturing and cerebral environment. This may explain why I go into more detail on matters of historical context than readers may be interested in knowing. Readers can decide for themselves how much of a topic they want to learn about.
With the above as backdrop, I want to discuss one valuable resource I stumbled upon while doing my ancestral research, the so-called Meyers Gazetteer. Various references to it can be found on the Internet, including links to the database on ancestry.com and familysearch.org. Consequently, I hesitated to write a post about it. However, because I so frequently find myself returning to this compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, it occurred to me it might be valuable for others unfamiliar with this website to be aware of it. In this post I’ve chosen to illustrate using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in January 1846 as an example a potential use of the historic maps in the Meyers Gazetteer to better visualize the placement of the railroad; this is done in conjunction with contemporary Google maps.
I’ve previously explained to readers that most of Silesia (Figure 1) where my immediate family hails from is no longer part of Germany. Most of Silesia was given to Poland as compensation after WWII (Figure 2) following Poland’s loss of a much larger swath of land to the USSR in then-eastern Poland, land that is today part of the Ukraine. With Poland’s acquisition of German Silesia, the German town names were all changed to Polish place names that often make it difficult to locate the former German towns on present-day maps. This is where the Meyers Gazetteer is inordinately useful if the former German town name can be found in the database.
The idea for this post came to me recently after asking one of my fourth cousins, Helen Winter, nee Renshaw (Figure 3) from Wolverhampton, England, if she could briefly explain to me the contents of one page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie talking about Ratibor. The text is printed in Fraktur, Black Lettering, that Helen has gained some aptitude reading of late. (Figure 4)
I did not specifically ask for a transcription nor translation. On my own, I figured out the text addressed primarily trade and commerce in Ratibor in around 1845 so felt a summary would be adequate for my purposes. However because Helen took it as an intellectual challenge, an exquisitely done transcription and translation is what I received. And I’m thrilled Helen provided this because unexpectedly part of the text discussed the route by which the railway arrived in Ratibor and the various regional railway companies involved in its construction.
Because multiple German town names were mentioned and I was having trouble visualizing the route, I turned to the Meyers Orts- und Verkehrs-Lexikon des Deutschen Reichs, the “Meyers Geographical and Commercial Gazetteer of the German Empire.” As ancestry.com points out “This gazetteer of the German Empire is the gazetteer to use to locate place names in German research. It was originally compiled in 1912. This gazetteer is the gazetteer to use because it includes all areas that were part of the pre-World War I German Empire. Gazetteers published after WWI may not include parts of the Empire that were lost to bordering countries. Overall, this gazetteer includes more than 210,000 cities, towns, hamlets, villages, etc.”
They further note that “Gazetteers are very important to use when doing family history research. They not only help you pinpoint a specific place and associate them with the jurisdictions to which they belong, but they can also provide interesting facts about the community and help you to know where to look for additional records. For example, from Meyers Orts you may learn about the size of the town, if there was a post office, where the nearest train station was located, and where the civil registration office was located.”
The meyersgaz.org website, the portal I primarily use for searching German Empire town names, further remarks: “This is the most important of all German gazetteers. The goal of the Meyer’s compilers was to list every place name in the German Empire (1871-1918). It gives the location, i.e. the state and other jurisdictions, where the civil registry office was and parishes if that town had them. It also gives lots of other information about each place. The only drawback to Meyer’s is that if a town did not have a parish, it does not tell where the parish was, making reference to other works necessary.”
On the homepage of meyersgaz.org they note you’ll find a search box in which you type the name of your place using the following conventions:
You can use a wildcard * (an asterisk) in your search. For example, “*gheim” will return “Balgheim, Bergheim, Bietigheim, Billigheim” and anything else that ends in “gheim.”
You can type only the beginning of a name and it will return all places that begin with those letters. For example, “Neu” will return “Neu Abbau, Neu Abschwangen, Neuacker, Neuafrika,” etc.
You do not need to include umlauts; “Munchen” and “München” will return “München.” You can type umlauts if you wish, but you should not expand umlauts, e.g. “ü” as “ue,” as that will return no hits.
A list of identically named places will appear within different jurisdictions, allowing you to identify the town you’re interested in.
As meyersgaz.org further notes, on the “Entry” page the following will be found:
You will see the name of your town and a menu that includes the following items: Entry, Map, Ecclesiastical, Related, Email, and Feedback.
You will see the entry as it appears in Meyer’s, the extraction of the entry, the explanation of the extraction, and a map. The extractions include and are primarily limited to jurisdiction and parish information. The explanations are helpful for those who do not speak German or are not familiar with the old jurisdictions. For example, you will learn what Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht mean.
By clicking on “View entry on PDF of the original page,” you can see the entire page on which the entry appears in the original gazetteer.
Click on “Show previous and next entry” to see the previous and following entries. If there was a correction in the Meyer’s addendum, this will also be noted.
Meyersgaz.org remarks that by clicking on “Map” in the menu or on the map itself, additional information can be found:
You will now see your town on the old Karte des deutschen Reiches. This set of maps was produced during the time of the German Empire and so corresponds chronologically to Meyer’s.
You can zoom in and out and the maps can be moved around with the mouse, so you can easily extend the search further around the main town.
If you click on the words “Toggle Historical Map” in the upper right-hand corner, you can switch to Google Maps. This is especially helpful if you are searching in Poland or other areas of the former German Empire that are now in other countries. This is because you can get the current, i.e. non-German, name of the town.
If you hover on “Toggle Historical Map,” you will see a menu. If you click on the menu items, you will see pins appear on the map that correspond to what you have chosen, either Jurisdiction (all places where other jurisdictions are given, such as Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht that are included in the entry), surrounding Standesämter (civil registry offices), Catholic parishes, Protestant parishes, or Jewish synagogues. This will help you determine the location of the nearest parishes, etc., within a 20-mile radius, should you need to do an area search. You can also click on the pins and the names of corresponding towns will appear.
You may also see a map with a large red circle instead of a pin. This means that the place has not been geocoded yet and a specific place on the map has not been identified, but it falls within the area of the red circle.
Interested readers are encouraged to access meyersgaz.org website and try out the site for themselves. The maps have allowed me to track down the location of German towns now located in Poland I would otherwise have had great difficulty finding. With respect to the ensuing discussion, I will partially illustrate this using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in 1846. I would add that my interest in the coming of train service to Ratibor is related to when the family establishment in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, was constructed; I believe the two events are closely interconnected and that the family enterprise opened in 1846 or soon thereafter.
Helen Winter’s German transcription of the page from Johann Knie’s 1845 book about the route by which the railroad arrived in Ratibor is as follows:
Die meist schlechte Beschaffenheit der von hier aus führenden Strassen wirkt hemmend auf den Landhandel, namentlich auf den Transito-Verkehr. Um so wichtiger muss für Ratibor die gelungene Anlegung der gleich anfangs erwänten Wilhelms Eisenbahn werden, da sie die Verbindung bilden wird, zwischen der Oberschlesien, oder Breslau-Krakauer Eisenbahn u[nd] der österreichischen von Wien nach Krakau führenden Ferdinands-Rorhbahn, sodass Ratibor die natürliche Zwischenstation alles Personen- und Güter-Verkehrs auf der Eisenbahnlinie von Breslau nach Wien sein wird. Das Privilegium der Bahn ist in der preuss[ische] Gesetz[es]S[ammlung] für 1844, Seite 127-146 nachzulesen. Ihre Entstehung verdankt dieses Unternehmen den Oberschlesien, welche seit 1840 in den öffentlichen Blättern, dann durch Gründung eines Aktien-Bereins dahin strebten, die oberschlesische oder breslaukrakauer Eisenbahn-Gesellschaft auf der Unrichtigkeit des erst gewählten Traktus von Oppeln über Malapane [?? ic ??] nach der russische Grenze, aufmerksam zu machen u[nd] den Bemühungen des königl[iches] Regierungs-Presidenten Grafen Pückler auch gelungen, die oberschlesische Bahngesellschaft zu dem Entschlusse zu bestimmen, von Oppeln aus in der Richtung von Kandrzin bis Kosel u[nd] erst von da in östlicher Richtung über Gleiwitz nach Krakau zu bauen, dadurch wurde es möglich, Kandrzin bei Kosel auch als Anfangspunkt für die Wilhelms-Eisenbahn zu gewinnen. Die Bahn geht von Kandrzin rechts der Oder aufwärts bis Ratibor u[nd] hier mittelst der Stromǔberbrückung zu den links zwischen der Oder u[nd] der Stadt gelegenen Bahnhofe. Diese erste Bahnstrecke beträgt 3 7/8 M[eilen]; ihre Fortsetzung am linken Ober-Ufer bis zu dem wahrscheinlichebn End[gangspunkte] und berübergangspunkte 3 3/8 M[eilen]. Die Erdarbeiten zwischen Kandrzin u[nd] Ratibor sind beinahe gänzlich [EDITOR’S NOTE: gönzlich is, I think, a misprint], die bis Oderberg zum grossen Theil vollendet. Der Brückenbau wird mit allem Nachdruck betrieben; bereits sind die meisten Kammarbeiten vollendet. Die Schwellen sind sämmtlich an der Bahn 30,000 Ctnr. englische Schienen seit dem 1[rste] September 1844 noch mit niederem Eingangszoll beschafft u[nd] der bei schles[ischen] Hütten bestellte Uebrrest grösstenteils auch schon geliefert; so das bei günstiger Witterung die Bahn bis Oktober 1845 wird befahren werden können. Der Bahnhof ist zwischen Oder u[nd] Stadt auf der, für Entwickelung des Verkehrs günstigsten Stelle errichtet u[nd] eilt seine Vollendung ebenfalls entgegen. Die Stadt gabt dazu 15 Morg[en] u[nd] zur Bahnlinie auf dem 3/8 Meilen langen, stäbtischen Terrain ebenfalls circa 10 Morg[en]- Land[es] , welches ein Opfer von 7000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] erheischte. Die Abbrechung eines Hauses u[nd] die Erwerdung des zu mehreren Strassen erforberlichen Terrains, so wie der Ausbau dieser Strassen wird der Stadt eben so viel kosten. Die Stadtverordneten-Bersammlung hat nicht angestanden diese Opfer im wohlerwogenen Interessender Kommune dem Direktorium der W[ilhelm] B[ahn] nicht nur zu bringen, sondern selbst anzubieten, weil nur dadurch die Gesellschaft bewogen worden ist, den Baufond um mehr als 150,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] zu erhöhen, um hier bei der Stadt vom rechten auf das linke Oberufer überzugehen u[nd] den Bahnhof an den Stadtmauern erbauern zu können, wärend derselber sonst rechts der Oder, fast 1/2 Meile von hier, erbaut worden wäre. Der Anschluss an die Nordbahn erfolgt dicht bei Oderberg, für die nächsten Jahre mittelst gewöhnlichen Fuhrwerkes; dann aber mittelst Zweiges der Nordbahn von circa 800 Ruth[e] Das Anlage-Kapital für die ganze Wilhelm [Bahn] beträgt statutenmässig 1,200,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er].
Below is the translation of the above text with footnotes about the various railway companies involved in construction of the railroad in and around Ratibor; Prussian units of measure; and Prussian currency:
“The mostly poor condition of the roads leading from here has an inhibiting effect on overland trade, especially on transit traffic. It must be all the more important for Ratibor that the connecting route, projected at the very beginning of the Wilhelms-Eisenbahn [Wilhelmsbahn (A) or William Railway] should be successfully completed, between Upper Silesia, or the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway (B), and the Austrian route from Vienna along the Ferdinands-Nordbahn [Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway (C)], so that Ratibor will become the natural connecting station for all passengers and goods traffic on the train lines between Breslau and Vienna. (Figure 5) The grant to the Railway is available to read at pages 127 to 146 of the Prussische Gesetzesammlung [Prussian Law Gazette] for 1844. That Company owes its existence to the above named company, which, firstly in the public newspapers, and then by founding a stock corporation, convinced the Upper Silesian, or Breslau-Krakow Railway Company [EDITOR’S NOTE: Upper Silesian Railway Company], of how wrong the originally chosen route, from Oppeln via Malapane (Figure 6) to the Russian border, would have been; the efforts by the royally appointed President of the government, Count Pückler, also succeeded in persuading the Upper Silesian Railway Company to reach the decision to build the line from Oppeln, in the direction of Kandrzin as far as Kosel (Figure 7) and, only from that point, in an easterly direction via Gleiwitz to Krakow, which would make it possible to use Kandrzin, near Kosel, as a starting point for the William Railway. (Figure 8) The railway route goes from Kandrzin, to the right of the Oder, up to Ratibor [EDITOR’S NOTE: meaning upriver as the Oder River flows generally south to north] and here, by means of a bridge across the river, to the station, which is situated on the left bank, between the Oder and the city. This initial railway track is 2 7/8 miles long (D). Its continuation along the upper left bank, up to the probable end of the track and upper crossing point is 3 3/8 miles. The earth works between Kandrzin and Ratibor are now entirely, and those at Oderberg for the most part, completed. The bridge construction is being pursued vigorously; already most of the work on the crest is complete. The sleepers are all on the track; 30,000 Ctnr. (E) of English rails have been procured since 1st September 1844, at a low rate of import duty and most of the remainder, ordered from the foundries of Silesia, have already been delivered; so that, allowing for reasonable weather, the railway can come into use by October 1845. [EDITOR’S NOTE: Train service commenced on the 1st of January 1846] The station, which was being built between the Oder and the city in a location that would facilitate the development of traffic, is also fast approaching completion. The city gave 15 acres of land for the station, and around 10 acres for the railway line on the 3/8 mile long, flat terrain, all of which required the sacrifice of 7,000 Reichsthaler. The City Council did not hesitate, in the interest of the public good, to take some of the financial burden on themselves, rather than expecting the Directors of the William Railway to bear the whole, as this was the only way in which the company could be persuaded to increase the building fund by more than 150,000 Reichsthaler (F), in order that the site of the station could be changed from the right to the left upper bank and that it could be built over the city walls, whereas it would otherwise have been built to the right of the Oder, more than a mile from here. The connection to the Northern Railway will take place close to Oderberg (G) (Figure 9), for the next few years by means of a conventional carriage, then by means of a branch line of the Northern Railway from circa 800 Rods (H) [EDITOR’S NOTE: there seems to be a bit missing in the copy of the book here]. The capital budget for the whole William Railway is fixed by statute at 1,200,000 Reichsthaler.”
(A) The Wilhelmsbahn or William Railway was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel–Gleiwitz (Wroclaw—Opole— Koźle—Gliwice)) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand’s Railway. The name referred to Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, later the German Emperor Wilhelm I. For the first time, the railway line connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
(B) Refers to the Upper Silesian Railway Company. In 1842, the Upper Silesian Railway Company, licensed since 1839, opened the first two sections of its main line: Breslau (Wrocław, Poland) to Ohlau (Oława, Poland) (Figure 10) on the 22nd of May and Ohlau (Oława, Poland) to Brieg (Brzeg, Poland) (Figure 11) in August. These are the oldest railway sections of present-day Poland. Step by step the Upper Silesian Railway (Oberschlesische Eisenbahn, OSE) line was extended, in 1846 connecting Katowice. In 1847 Myslowitz (Mysłowice, Poland) at the border of Austrian Galicia was reached and the connection to Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway complete.
(C) The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company during the time of the Austrian Empire. Its main line was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia near Kraków. The name is still used today in referring to several railway lines formerly operated by that company.
(D) The distances in miles in the text refer to Prussian miles. One Prussian mile equates to 4.66 U.S. miles or 7.5 kilometers.
(E) “Ctnr.” is the abbreviation for a Prussian “Centner.” A Prussian Centner equates to 113.43 American pounds or 51.448 kilograms. The metric Zentner used today is exactly 50 kilograms or 110.23 American pounds.
(F) Abbreviated “Rtl.,” this refers to a Prussian Reichsthaler. The Reichsthaler was a standard thaler silver coin introduced by the Holy Roman Empire in 1566 for use in all German states, minted in various versions for the next 300 years, and containing 25–26 grams fine silver.
(G) According to Johann Knie, the Wilhelmsbahn connected to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway near Oderberg, shown to the southeast of Ratibor in Figure 9.
(H) The Prussian Ruthe or rod was 12 feet or 3.766 meters.
It is clear from Johann Knie’s 1845 book that, absent Count Pückler’s intervention, the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway, that’s to say the Upper Silesian Railway Company, intended to bypass Ratibor in its construction of the railway into Poland. The passage refers to an easterly route from Breslau (Wrocław) to Oppeln (Opole) to a place called Malapane (today: Ozimek) toward Russia which Count Pückler was able to dissuade the Upper Silesian Railway Company from taking. He apparently also convinced the Upper Silesian Railway Company to connect Breslau (Wrocław) to Krakau (Kraków) via Oppeln (Opole), Kosel (also written Cosel; Koźle), Gleiwitz (Gliwice), and Katowice. This was critical because at a place called Kandrzin, just outside present-day Koźle, the Wilhelmsbahn or William Railroad was then able to connect their railway line to the Upper Silesian Railway. Thus, railway passengers could save time when traveling between Breslau and Vienna by avoiding Krakau. We also learn that Ratibor’s City Council donated land and money to offset part of the William Railroad’s construction cost. From Kosel to Ratibor, the tracks ran along the right or east bank of the Oder, then crossed the river near Ratibor via a bridge to the railway station located on the west or left bank of the Oder River, interestingly built over the city walls according to Johann Knie’s text.
In closing I would simply say that the maps and plans in Meyers Gazetteer in combination with contemporary Google maps provide the necessary overview for visualizing how important it was for the small town of Ratibor in the mid-1840s to ensure the railroad passed through town. It enabled the town’s economic expansion and led to the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel sometime between 1846 and 1850.
REFERENCES
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In a post I’ve long wanted to write, using maps and contemporary accounts, I discuss the history of the property where the inn stood that my family owned from ca. 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. I also make a case for when I think the hotel was likely constructed.
I’ve spilled a lot of ink writing about my next of kin’s business in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. My recently departed friend Paul Newerla from Racibórz (Figure 3), a lawyer who found his second calling in retirement researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia, was very instrumental in furthering my understanding of the hotel’s history and generously sharing multiple historical references and illustrations related to the establishment.
Paul was never able to tell me exactly when the inn was constructed and whether a previous owner had built the structure. For the longest time, I imagined the name “Prinz von Preußen” meant it might have been erected and lived in by a member of the von Preußen family, a royal lineage with longstanding ties to Silesia. Another friend whom I’ve often mentioned to readers, Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 4), a descendant of this illustrious bloodline now living in the United States, explained to me that the “Prinz von Preußen” name was franchised from at least the 19th century. Thus, the Bruck Hotel’s incorporation of the Prinz von Preußen honorific may simply reflect a business arrangement. So far evidence of this has not been found.
One document Paul was unable to track down in theArchiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, was the so-called Grundbuch, the land register, for the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered.
In Post 61, I discussed how Paul found the Grundbuch for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory owned by distant family relatives, located in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] outside Ratibor, among the uncatalogued documents in the basement of the Racibórz State Archives. Regular readers know I’ve written multiple posts about the Zuckerfabrik. Had Paul been able to locate the Grundbuch for the Bruck’s Hotel, it might have shed some light on when the building was built and/or exactly when my family purchased the establishment. Whether the file still exists is an unanswered question though I suspect if it did Paul Newerla would have tracked it down.
Another of my Polish friends, Małgosia Ploszaj (Figure 5), from Rybnik, Poland, 15 miles east of Racibórz, was able to find a police file in the Racibórz State Archives related to the Bruck’s Hotel (Figures 6a-b), but this dated to the period that my grandparents, Felix (1864-1927) and Else Bruck (1873-1957), owned the hotel during the first quarter of the 20th century. This file includes reports on periodic inspections conducted by the local police; safety issues my grandparents were compelled to address; authorizations they were required to obtain to operate beyond normal working hours; violations for which they were fined, etc. Nothing in the file related to the history nor tenancy of the hotel prior to my grandparents’ ownership.
My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen spent a good deal of time explaining the contents of this police file. Additionally, because of his own family’s connection to Silesia, he spent a lot of time searching publications for mentions of the hotel and the sequential Bruck family members who owned the inn, namely, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), and Felix Bruck (1864-1927).
One of the most useful public domain sources Peter discovered was a 695-page book entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor,” “History of the Town of Ratibor,” written by Augustin Weltzel in 1861. (Figure 7) Therein, Peter found mention of a Bruck who was a “gastwirth,” an innkeeper, no doubt Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figure 8)
The book is written in Fraktur, which was the subject of Post 154. Unfortunately, the text has not been transcribed into German, nor has it been translated into Polish or English. However, because Peter can read Fraktur, he graciously perused and summarized relevant sections of Weltzel’s book.
This book was commissioned in 1859 by the Protestant Church in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], who had searched in the archives and discovered that the history of the entire Upper Silesian region, a principally Catholic area at the time, had not been documented. As a result, Dr. Weltzel, a Catholic Priest, was contracted to write about Ratibor. This seemingly odd arrangement was an indirect outcome of the First Silesian War from 1740 to 1742 which resulted in Prussia seizing most of the region of Silesia (today mostly in southwestern Poland) from Austria but Catholics in Silesia being guaranteed the right to continue practicing their religion.
Based on Peter’s synopsis and analysis, I can reconstruct a partial history of the property where the Bruck’s Hotel was built and theorize when the hotel is likely to have been constructed. Another of my Polish contacts from Racibórz is Magda Wawoczny, an acquaintance in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. At my request, she graciously sent me high-resolution plans of Ratibor from 1831 and 1843, as well as a map from 1812 with a birds-eye view of Ratibor and its fortifications, that allow me to clarify using contemporary maps what likely was going on in the area at the time in conjunction with Augustin Weltzel’s description of historic events.
First, a brief digression. I’ve periodically told readers about my “boots on the ground” without whom I would be unable to relate my family stories to the depth I feel is required. As readers can easily tell, I have limited knowledge about many of the subjects I discuss so the assistance of knowledgeable people is crucial. In the case of this post, for example, I felt the need to illustrate with historic maps what Ratibor may have looked like at different points in time to make the case for approximately when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been constructed.
Erroneously recalling there exists a map from 1829 with the Bruck’s Hotel shown, I asked Magda, my student acquaintance from Racibórz, if she could track it down for me. In the process, Magda directed me to a historical portal run by her father, Grzegorz Wawoczny, a historian. The portal includes a post written by a German gentleman, Christoph Sottor, describing the oldest plans of the city of Ratibor. This is how I learned about the 1812, 1831, and 1843 plans of Ratibor mentioned above. This post was very useful and one I encourage readers with an ancestral link to Ratibor to skim:
Historically, Ratibor was a fortified castle-town. The period the Bruck’s Hotel could conceivably have been built is closely related to when the fortifications surrounding Ratibor were dismantled because of the hotel’s proximity to where the protective walls once stood. Let me briefly relate to readers some of the history of the town’s defensive system. The defensive walls have existed in Ratibor since 1299. They were extended in the 14th century, and several fortified towers and three wooden gates were later added. A deep moat was constructed in front of the walls. The curtain walls were reinforced in 1663 in anticipation of a Turkish invasion.
Beginning in the 18th century, the fortifications were gradually eliminated. Between 1764 and 1771 the moat was filled in. According to Weltzel, the wooden gate (Figure 22) of the defensive tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built was removed in 1825 and relocated to the Ratibor side of the bridge crossing the nearby Oder River; some of the nearby curtain walls were removed but the tower remained.
All that remains of the fortifications today is a Renaissance style tower constructed in 1574 and some remnants of the Gothic curtain walls that abutted this tower. (Figures 9-10) At the apex of the tower, there is an attic with embrasures (sometimes called gun holes) and four turrets. The building provided shelter for the garrison of defenders and was also used as a prison tower.
The removal of the moat, including the gradual elimination of some of the defensive structures, coincides with the end of the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Let me say a few words about this conflict.
The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) was a global conflict involving most of Europe’s great powers that was fought primarily in Europe, the Americas, and Asia-Pacific. Without getting too far into the weeds, suffice it to say the opposing alliances were led by Great Britain and France, each seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain fought against England and their ally Prussia in Europe and overseas. Long-standing rivalries pitted these adversaries against one another in North America and the West Indies.
No less a personage than Winston Churchill described the Seven Years War, which went by different names in its respective theaters (e.g., Franch and Indian Wars (1754-1763); War of the Conquest in French-speaking Canada; the Third Silesian Wear (1756-1763) between Prussia and Austria) as the first “world war” because of its global reach.
For purposes of this post, suffice it to say that in Europe, Prussia sought greater influence in the German states (i.e., Prussia and the other German states did not unite to form Germany until 1871) while Austria sought to contain Prussian influence as well as regain Silesia which they’d lost at the end of the First Silesian War in 1742. Austria failed in this regard. Based on Augustin Weltzel’s discussions, it is evident the city’s fortifications suffered heavy damage from cannonball strikes during the conflict.
Perhaps, the end of the war, new economic opportunities, ongoing deterioration of the defensive walls and towers, along with a need to expand the city caused town officials to gradually remove the fortifications and towers.
The address of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstrasse 16. The inn stood on the northwest corner of Oderstrasse where it met Bollwerk Strasse. A 1929 street map of Ratibor includes the hotel’s name and location (Figure 11), while a 1933 plan shows the number “16” on Oderstrasse. (Figure 12) A map from around 1890 indistinctly outlines an area where the Bruck’s Hotel stood that is identified by the number “104,” which may indicate the lot number. (Figure 13) Since I don’t have copies of all Ratibor’s plans, it’s not clear when the hotel was first plotted on a map.
The “Prinz von Preußen” is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau and Vienna. (Figures 14a-b) Family ownership of the inn is thought to have begun at around this time.
Next, I’ll discuss a few of the historic maps I had access to, and what they suggest regarding the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel. I’ll also touch on some of Weltzel’s historic accounts for reference.
Let me start by discussing the map that Christoph Sottor dates to 1812 (Figure 15) that I previously described as a birds-eye view of the city with its still-standing fortifications.
“On the newly made plan (in 1812 on the basis of measurements from 1810) the orientation to the west was improved, buildings in towns near Racibórz were described and projections of several buildings in Racibórz itself were marked. The “Situations-Plan von der Stadt Ratibor” covers a smaller area than the 1811 plan and is on a smaller scale, 1 : 7,200. The plan measures 48 cm x 32.3 cm. It was also created by the geometer Andre Wihrheim. The only copy of the plan is in AP Opole, reference number: AP Opole, Rej. Opole. Kart., sign. IX/92. I only have a blurry picture of him.” [EDITOR’S NOTE: “AP Opole” stands for “Archiwum Państwowe Opole,” the State Archives in Opole, Poland]
The main conclusion one can draw from this map is that the defensive towers and curtain walls were mostly still intact in 1812. This means the Bruck’s Hotel, whose approximate location I’ve shown on the map, could not yet have existed at this time since the curtain walls would have impeded its construction.
According to Weltzel, the Bruck’s Hotel was referred to as the “Prinzen von Preußen” (“Princes of Prussia”) rather than “Prinz von Preußen” (“Prince of Prussia”), with no mention of the Bruck surname. He also tells us the property where the hotel was eventually built had previously been owned by the so-called Schützengilde, the shooting club, and sat along Oder Gasse, as Oderstrasse was then known. The Schützengilde had two structures on their property, a Schützenzwinger, or clubhouse, and a Schießstand, or firing range. The clubhouse faced Oder Gasse, while the firing range sat towards the rear of the property closer to the Oder River.
At the time Weltzel was researching his book he had access to the shooting club’s records dating back to 1620. According to these documents the Schützengilde owned the property on Oder Gasse until 1824/25 when they sold it to the city of Ratibor in two transactions; by May 1825 the city had full possession of the entire property. Using the proceeds from the sale of the property, the shooting club purchased another property in town. Seemingly, Weltzel does not discuss how the city used the property following its acquisition.
Peter Albrecht von Preußen uncovered a YouTube video describing the activities of the Schützengilde today featuring none other than my late friend Paul Newerla. While the video is in both German and Polish with subtitles in both these languages, readers can get a general idea of how the shooting club operates today and view some of the antique weapons members fire:
In essence, Paul Newerla says that today the Schützengilde is principally a historical society and functions as a recreational club rather than as a defensive force as it once did. As previously mentioned, the club relocated from Oder Gasse in 1825, but moved again in 1898 to their present location. The existing clubhouse incorporates a tower (Figure 16) that may be a remembrance of the Oder Thor that once stood adjacent to their property on Oder Gasse. According to Paul, the oldest documents the club possesses date to 1925, so he is appealing to anyone that may have older artifacts or memorabilia to contact the club. And finally, we learn the Schützengilde was inoperative from the 8th of May 1945 until 2004, when it was resurrected.
Let me turn now to the two high resolution maps from 1831 and 1843 that Magda sent me and discuss what inferences can be drawn from them. Both plans show two buildings on the property, the 1843 map more distinctly, where the Bruck’s Hotel would eventually be built. On the 1831 map (Figure 17), in the rear structure, that’s to say the shooting range, readers can vaguely make out what Weltzel refers to as a “wall extension” that paralleled the lane where Bollwerk Strasse was ultimately sited. It would appear the firing range incorporated as an extension a fragmentary part of the curtain walls that once surrounded Ratibor.
One thing we can conclude from the 1843 map (Figure 18) is that the Oder Thor, Oder Tower, the tower closest to where the hotel was ultimately built had apparently not yet been demolished, though as previously mentioned the wooden gate had been removed in 1825. The tower is labelled on the map suggesting it was still in place. It’s difficult to know precisely where the Oder Thor was situated relative to the hotel making it hard to know whether it would have impeded construction of the building; however, the defensive curtain walls would assuredly have prevented construction of the inn.
Another thing we can observe from the 1843 ocular map of Ratibor is that if you extend the line that was formerly part of the curtain wall and the extension of the Schießstand, it lines up perfectly with the side of the Oder Thor that was closest to the Oder River.
So, we return to the question of when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built and what the impetus for doing so would have been. A French travel guide dated 1836 entitled “Manuel du Voyageur en Allemagne” (Handbook for Travelers in Germany), mentions an auberge or inn in Ratibor, “Auberge de Jaeschke.” (Figure 19) Prior to construction of the Bruck’s Hotel this is believed to have been the only guesthouse in Ratibor.
As previously discussed, the “Prinz von Preußen” is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 publication “A Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” and is described as a “very comfortable hotel.” (see Figure 14b) Clearly, by 1850 the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was open for business. This is further confirmed by a concert the famed Austrian composer Johann Strauss delivered on the 17th of October 1850 in the hotel’s concert hall. (Figure 20) A similar recital by Dr. Franz Lizst four years earlier on the 29th of May 1846 was performed at the so-called “Jaschke’schen Saale” (Figure 21), presumably part of the “Auberge de Jaeschke,” indirect evidence the newer and larger Prinz von Preußen concert hall was not yet open.
According to Weltzel, the anticipated arrival of the railroad in Ratibor, which began service on the 1st of January 1846, caused a “building boom” between 1842 and 1850. If the 1843 map is accurate, the Oder Thor still stood at this time, so construction of the hotel post-dates its removal. While there is no smoking gun, the indirect evidence points to the Prinz von Preußen having been built sometime between 1845 and 1847, coinciding with the arrival of the railroad. No doubt regular train service and mention of the Prinz von Preußen in an English travel guide would have accelerated the number of visitors and tourists from Germany, Austria, and far-off places who would have expected modern conveniences. It can only be hoped the hotel’s Grundbuch still exists and is eventually found to definitively answer the question of what year the inn was built.
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In this post, I discuss the Fraktur typeface, a blackletter script known among other names as Gothic script. It originated in the early 16th century during the Holy Roman Empire and was widely used in Europe until the early 1940s. An 1820 publication typeset in Fraktur bears the names of two of my Bruck ancestors who attended the inaugural gymnasium class in Ratibor in 1819. In working out the name of one of these ancestors, I came to learn that two upper-case Fraktur letters of the early 19th century are indistinguishable.
First, let me briefly describe Fraktur’s characteristics and provide some brief background on its origin and history. Fraktur is defined “as a calligraphic hand of the Latin alphabet and any of several blackletter typefaces derived from this hand.” Letters are designed so that the individual strokes are broken apart, in contrast with typefaces where the letters are connected and flow together in an unbroken fashion, setting them apart from the flowing curves of more common Antiqua typefaces. The word “Fraktur” derives from the Latin word frāctūra (“a break”), which is also the root of the English word “fracture.” The nomenclature is appropriate given that Fraktur letters are spaced apart, not continuous. Fraktur is a notable type of so-called blackletter script, known among other names as Gothic script, with sometimes the entire group of blackletter faces being referred to as Fraktur.
Essentially, Fraktur is characterized by the 26 letters of the basic Latin alphabet, along with additional characters: the Eszett ⟨ß⟩ in the ⟨ſʒ⟩ form; vowels with umlauts, ä, ö, and ü; a long S (ſ), a unique character found in Fraktur; and a variant form of the letter r known as the r rotunda featured in some Fraktur typefaces. It is worth noting that not all blackface typefaces exhibit these specific Fraktur characteristics.
The first Fraktur typeface originated in the early 16th century, when Maximilian I, the Holy Roman Emperor from 1508 until his death in 1519, commissioned the design of the “Triumphal Arch” wood cut by Albrecht Durer and had a new typeface created specifically for this purpose. The Triumphal Arch was a composite image printed on 36 large sheets of paper from 195 separate wood blocks; as one of the largest prints ever produced it was intended to be pasted to walls in city halls or the palaces of princes, basically as propaganda.
From the late 18th century to the late 19th century, in most countries that had previously used Fraktur it was gradually replaced by Antiqua (Figure 2), as a symbol of the admiration for and emulation of the classical artistic and literary heritage of Greece and Rome. This transition was vigorously debated in Germany, where it was referred to as the “Antiqua-Fraktur dispute.” The shift affected mostly scientific writing, whereas most literature and newspapers continued to be printed in Fraktur.
Until the early 20th century, typesetting in Fraktur was still quite common in all German-speaking countries and regions, as well as in Norway, Estonia, and Latvia, and to a lesser extent in Sweden, Finland, and Denmark.
Fraktur remained popular in Germany and much of Eastern Europe far longer than elsewhere in Europe so is often referred to as “the German typeface.” Prior to 1941 Hiter viewed Fraktur as a German script that was widely used in Third Reich propaganda publications. While official Nazi documents and letterheads employed the font, in fact the most popular fonts in Nazi Germany were more modernized versions of blackletter typefaces that had been designed in the early 20th century, mainly in the 1930s.
The shift to using these more modernized fonts was controversial, with the press at times admonished for using “Roman characters” under “Jewish influence.” On the 3rd of January 1941, the Nazi Party ended the controversy by switching to international scripts such as Antiqua. With this declaration, the Nazis prohibited the use of Fraktur and the Sütterlin-based handwriting, declaring them to be Judenlettern, Jewish letters. The irony cannot be lost on readers that the Nazis did a complete turnabout from decreeing Fraktur, in which many earlier Nazi propaganda publications had been written, to be Jewish letters, after previously having characterized the fonts to which they shifted to also be under “Jewish influence.”
A few European newspapers, such as the German Frankfurter Allgemeine (Figure 3) as well as the Norwegian Aftenpoſten, still print their name in Fraktur on the masthead, which today is used mostly for decorative typesetting.
So much for the background. The genesis of this post begins in 2019 when Paul Newerla, my recently deceased friend from Racibórz, Poland, the town formerly in Germany to which my family had a three-generation connection, was writing about the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school. While researching the topic, Paul happened upon a publication dated the 2nd of June 1820 entitled “Denkschrift über die feierliche Eröffnung des Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819. . .,” “Memorandum on the solemn opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on June 2, 1819. . .” (Figures 4a-b) archived at the British Museum. It is noteworthy that this document was typeset in Fraktur. More on this below.
Knowing that several of my relatives had attended Ratibor’s high school, Paul sent me a copy of the report. Along with illustrations and maps Paul sent me, this formed the backbone for Post 60. The 1820 publication was written by Dr. Carl Linge, who I would later learn was the school’s first director from the 11th of May 1819 until Easter 1828. Along with an introduction, the publication contained five pages of names of male students, the only enrollees at the time, who attended the inaugural class, including two Bruck siblings. (Figure 4c) Their surnames were listed along with their first initials, what I thought were “J” and “S.”
For reasons that in retrospect seem completely illogical, I assumed that “J” stood for Jonas Bruck and that “S” referred to Samuel Bruck. These siblings, sons of Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) and Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht, have been mentioned in multiple earlier posts, most recently in Post 153. Their birth and death years are well known to me. Jonas lived from 1813 to 1883, and Samuel from 1808 until 1863. Knowing Jonas was born in 1813, his attendance in the gymnasium’s inaugural class in 1819 at six years of age should immediately have raised a red flag; instead, I blissfully assumed he was very precocious.
As Paul was continuing his research related to the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, he managed to track down the original handwritten roster of students who’d attended the school from the 11th of May 1819 until the 13th of April 1849. Astonishingly, he found this roster among the old files of the gymnasium, which today is a technical trade school. The fact that these originals survive given the turmoil during World War II is miraculous.
Among the roster of students who attended the school between 1819 and 1849, I discovered the following Bruck ancestors:
SUMMARY OF FAMILY NAMES FROM RATIBOR GYMNASIUM ALBUM, 1819-1849
Year/
Date of Admission
Line Number/Name
Where From
Father’s Profession
(German & English)
Age or Date of Birth of Student
1819
74. Isaac Bruck
74. Samuel Bruck
Ratibor
“Arrendator”
Leaseholder
13
10
4 April 1823
402. Heimann Bruck
Ratibor
“Destillateur”
Distiller
11
21 April 1824
440. Jonas Bruck
Ratibor
“Destillateur”
Distiller
10 ½
19 May 1829
1829. Marcus Braun
Ratibor
“Wirth”
Innkeeper
12 ½
22 May 1845
1752. Oscar Bruck
Ratibor
“Kaufmann”
Merchant
8 October 1832
3 January 1846
1772. Heimann Bruck
Ratibor
“Sattlermeister”
Saddler
26 December 1833
27 April 1848
1961. Fedor Bruck
Ratibor
“Kaufmann”
Merchant
30 September 1834
While it seems obvious in retrospect, I did not immediately make the connection between the names in the handwritten roster and Carl Linge’s published list of students who attended the gymnasium in its inaugural year in 1819. Regrettably, Paul sent me the page with Isaac and Samuel Bruck’s names separately, cutting off the year they attended the school, initially confounding me. (Figure 5)
Recall that in the published list, only the first letter of the students’ forenames is listed. Wanting to confirm whether the Fraktur letter in Carl Linge’s book was an “I” or a “J,” in other words whether the student was Isaac Bruck or Jonas Bruck, I turned to my friend Peter Hanke. As a trivial matter to most readers, but as a curious fact to me, Peter explained that in Fraktur typefaces of the early 19th century, the “I” and “J” fonts are indistinguishable. I found a few examples of early 19th century Fraktur typefaces that confirm this. (Figures 6a-b)
Additionally, the Wikipedia discussion of Fraktur speaks to this exact point. I quote: “Most older Fraktur typefaces make no distinction between the majuscules ⟨I⟩ and ⟨J⟩ (where the common shape is more suggestive of a ⟨J⟩), even though the minuscules ⟨i⟩ and ⟨j⟩ are differentiated.” Linge’s roster list uses majuscules, or upper-case letters, for the forenames of students meaning that absent the handwritten list found by Paul Newerla, I might never have been certain which Bruck sibling attended the gymnasium in 1819 with Samuel Bruck.
At the time I wrote my earlier posts about Ratibor’s student rosters, I had not yet ascertained when Isaac was born. I’m still not certain though it’s likely in 1805 or 1806. In the 1819 handwritten roster, it’s written that Isaac was 13 years old, a much less precocious age to be attending the gymnasium than at six years which would have been his younger brother Jonas’s age at the time.
REFERENCE
Linge, Carl (1820). “Denkschrift über die feierliche Eröffnung des Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819. . .”
Note: In this post, I present and synthesize some primary source documents I’ve collected proving the existence of my third great-grandparents’ children. A family memoir states they had twelve unnamed children though I can definitively account for only nine of them. I am not surprised given that large families often had children who died at birth or in childhood. I strongly suspect a tenth offspring, the oldest girl, who shows up on several ancestral trees, may have lived to adulthood though I cannot independently prove this. The point of this post is to illustrate the standard to which I hold myself accountable in verifying ancestral data, not simply tell another family story to which readers may not relate.
A distant Bruck relative, Bertha Jacobson, née Bruck (1873-1957) wrote a memoir for her granddaughter, Maria Jacobson (1933-2022). In this memoir, which Maria donated to the Leo Baeck Institute in New York before her death, Bertha notes that my third great-grandparents Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) and Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht (b. 1776) had twelve children, though she doesn’t name them. As a challenge to myself, I set out to determine how many of these purported children’s existence I could find proof of in the form of primary source documents, my gold standard. I’ve summarized this data including the source in a table readers will find at the end of this post.
I’ve often admonished followers about cloning ancestral data that one finds on other people’s ancestral trees, especially if source documents are not identified. That said, ancestral trees are sometimes specific enough to direct researchers to other sources that can be independently checked to confirm the veracity of the information in a tree. Below I will give readers an example of how I was able to confirm the burial place of one of Jacob and Marianne’s children in Berlin through data found on an ancestral tree in MyHeritage.
Before delving into the evidence I’ve tracked down for Jacob and Marianne’s children, let me review the vital data I’ve found out about them. In Post 150 I told readers how I discovered my third great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck’s death register listing for Ratibor among the primary source documents digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s “Silius Radicum” project. (Figure 1) The index proved Jacob died in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] on the 29th of June 1836 at the age of 66, meaning he was born in 1770. While I’ve been unable to uncover the exact date he was born, the Geneanet Community Tree Index claims Jacob was born on the 18th of February 1770. (Figure 2) Notwithstanding that the source of this data is Michael Bruck, my fourth cousin once removed, I’ve yet to see the source document from which Michael drew this information.
A related aside. Another one of my distant Bruck relatives, Marianne Polborn, née Bruck (1888-1975) developed a family tree which includes some vital information for Jacob and Marianne Bruck. (Figure 3) Jacob’s date of birth matches that found on the Geneanet Community Tree Index. While I’m inclined to believe the 18th of February 1770 was indeed Jacob’s birth, the skeptic in me asks whether Michael Bruck had access to Marianne Polborn’s ancestral tree, so that everyone is copying the same unverified information from a record that is not a primary source document? This is likely a rhetorical question.
I draw readers’ attention to another date on Marianne Polborn’s ancestral tree, namely Jacob and Marianne’s marriage date, specifically, the 16th of May 1793. Given the confirmed dates of birth for some of Jacob and Marianne’s children towards the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th century, this seems like a plausible marriage year. While this tree is the sole unconfirmed source of their wedding, even if Marianne was already pregnant when she and Jacob married, a not uncommon occurrence I’ve learned, their oldest child would likely not have been born much before 1794. The earliest confirmed birth year for any of their children, as I will discuss, is 1796.
Another date I draw readers’ attention to is the purported date of birth of Marianne Aufrecht, the 21st of August 1776.
Marianne Polborn does not specify when Marianne Bruck died, although the Geneanet Community Tree Index claims she died on the 3rd of August 1835. (Figure 4) I believe this is a case of “false precision.” Let me explain. By chance, when scrolling through the Church of Latter-Day Saints (LDS) Family History Library Microfilm Roll Number 7990058 with the names of Jews who died between 1832 and 1838 in Neisse [today: Nysa, Poland], located 54 miles northwest of Racibórz, I stumbled on the death register listing of the “witwe Marianne Bruck” who died at 70 years of age on the 3rd of August 1835; “witwe” means widow. (Figure 5) As discussed above, I know for sure Jacob Bruck died in 1836 so obviously in 1835 Marianne would not yet have been a widow. Also, if Marianne’s birth year was 1776, which I’m inclined to believe, had she died in 1835 she would only have been several weeks short of her 59th birthday. Finally, unless Marianne was visiting Neisse, her death there rather than in Ratibor seems odd.
Often the oldest of Jacob and Marianne’s offspring listed on ancestral trees is Helene Bruck shown married to an Itzig Mendel Guttmann Aufrecht. As I discussed in Post 150, I located Marianne’s death register listing in the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s database proving she died on the 20th of May 1838 at the age of 68 (Figure 6), identical to the year Jacob Bruck was born, 1770. Thus, the Helene Bruck married to Itzig Aufrecht was not one of Jacob and Marianne’s children, but more likely Jacob’s cousin. It’s conceivable Jacob and Marianne named their first-born daughter Helene, but I cannot independently verify this nor prove she existed.
Wilhelmine Bruck’s existence is incontrovertible. Proof of her marriage to Wilhelm Friedenstein is found on LDS Microfilm 1184449 showing they got married on the 7th of November 1814 in Ratibor, identifying her father as Jakob Nathan Bruck. (Figure 7) Find-A-Grave shows she was born in 1796 and died in 1864, and is interred in the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu, the Old Jewish Cemetery, in Wrocław, Poland. (Figure 8) My friend, Dr. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska, is the Branch Manager of this cemetery and sent me a picture of her headstone giving her precise birth and death dates. (Figure 9) Her husband is not buried alongside her.
Although no birth or death information has so far been uncovered for another of Jacob and Marianne’s daughters, her existence again is irrefutable. According to LDS Microfilm 1184449, Dorothea married Salomon Freund on the 25th of February 1817 in Ratbor, and her father is listed as Jakob Nathan Bruck. (see Figure 7)
Moritz Bruck (1800-1863)
A German book published in 1845 entitled “Gelehrtes Berlin in Jahre 1845,” roughly translated as “Scholarly Berlin in 1845,” includes a biography of Moritz Bruck stating he was born on the 24th of December 1800 in Ratibor and that his father was Jacob Bruck. (Figure 10) He was a respected doctor and was actively involved in researching and writing about cholera. Unlike his older brothers, Moritz attended the gymnasium, high school, in Brieg, [today: Brzeg, Poland], 80 miles northwest of Racibórz. His 1824 dissertation written in Latin was entitled “De myrmeciasi,” and was about ants popularly known as bulldog ants, bull ants, or jack jumper ants due to their ferocity; his dissertation includes a dedication page for his father. (Figures 11a-b)
On MyHeritage, I discovered the “Tuchler Family Tree,” which correctly indicates Moritz died on the 25th of October 1863 in Berlin and is buried in the Jüdische Friedhof in der Schönhauser Allee, a fact I confirmed by having one of my German cousins call the cemetery. At a future date, I will include a photo of his headstone. This is one of the few occasions I found vital information on a family tree that I was independently able to verify.
Fanny Bruck (1804-1879)
LDS Microfilm 1184449 indicates that like her sisters Wilhelmine and Dorothea, Fanny got married in Ratibor on the 26th of November 1822 to Isaac Seliger. (Figure 12) Kurt Polborn, my fourth cousin from Germany, shows she died on the 29th of August 1879 in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Given the exactitude of her death, I asked Kurt about it, and he sent me a copy of a letter Fanny wrote on the 19th of February 1873 informing authorities in Breslau her husband Isaac had passed away on the 13th of February 1873. (Figure 13) The Julian and Hebrew calendar dates of death for both Isaac and Fanny are written at the bottom of this correspondence; the source of this letter is the online archives of the Centralna Biblioteka Judaistyczna, Central Jewish Library. I was able to locate Isaac Seliger’s death register listing on LDS Microfilm 7990011 confirming he died on the 13th of February 1873. (Figure 14)
Because the LDS Church does not have the Breslau death register covering the years between 1874 and 1910, I asked my friend Renata from the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław if she could help track down Fanny Seliger’s death register information. Coincidentally, Fanny is buried in the Old Jewish Cemetery. Renata confirmed she was born on the 8th of November 1804 and died on the 29th of August 1879. A photo of her matzevah, headstone, will soon follow. (Figure 15-COMING SOON)
Isaac Bruck (~1805-?)
Isaac Bruck is estimated to have been born in 1805 or 1806. Along with his Samuel Bruck, both of their names show up on the roster of students who attended the inaugural class when Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school, opened in June 1819. (Figure 16) The roster indicates Isaac was 13 years old at the time, while his brother Samuel was 10 years of age. Isaac and Samuel’s unnamed father is listed as an “arendator,” beer tenant or distiller, which Jacob Bruck was known to have been. I discussed this topic in Post 152.
A particularly intriguing document I located mentioning Isaac Bruck was in a gazette entitled “Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder,” dated the 26th of May 1828. The Marienwerder gazette printed a notice to be on the lookout for the deserter Isaac Bruck from Ratibor, who in 1828 was said to be 22 years old. (Figure 17)
The Marienwerder Region (German: Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder) was a government region (Regierungsbezirk) of Prussia from 1815 until 1920 and again 1939-1945. It was a part of the Province of West Prussia from 1815 to 1829, and again 1878–1920, belonging to the Province of Prussia in the intervening years, and to the Reichsgau Danzig-West Prussia in the years 1939-1945. The regional capital was Marienwerder in West Prussia [today: Kwidzyn, Poland].
According to LDS Microfilms 1194054 and 1194055 for Gleiwitz [today: Gliwice, Poland], Isaac and his wife Caroline Bruck, née Stolz, are known to have separated on the 19th of July 1835. (Figure 18)
Isaac Bruck is my cousin Michael Bruck’s 4th great-grandfather who he estimates died in 1856 or 1857.
Samuel Bruck (1808-1863)
Samuel was my third-great-grandfather, and the original owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel in Ratibor. His existence is beyond doubt. I discussed Samuel in Post 144, so direct readers to that installment.
Heimann Bruck (~1812)
Heimann Bruck first attended Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school, in April 1823 when he was 11 years old. (Figure 19) Heimann’s unnamed father is said to be a “Destillateur,” distiller, which Jacob Bruck is known to have been.
Heimann married Rosalie “Rosa” Bruck on the 21st of August 1832 in Neisse, Prussia [today: Nysa, Poland]. Heimann’s father is identified as “Jacob B.” and Rosa’s father as “David B.” (Figure 20) Jacob and David were likely cousins.
In an 1826 Ratibor publication entitled “Einladungsschrift der Offentlichen Prufung der Schuler des Konigs. Gymnasium in Ratibor am 5, 6, und 7 April,” “Invitation to the Public Examination of the Pupils of the Royal Grammar School in Ratibor on April 5, 6 and 7, 1826,” Heimann Bruck’s name appears as having graduated from fourth class Latin. This may correspond with Heimann’s graduation from the gymnasium. (Figure 21)
Various ancestral trees indicate Heimann died in 1875 but this information is unconfirmed.
Jonas Bruck (1813-1883)
Jonas Bruck’s history is well-known. Primary source documents related to my 2nd great granduncle were discussed in Post 145. Jonas first attended Ratibor’s gymnasium in 1824 at 10 ½ years of age (Figure 22) and is shown in an annual Ratibor yearbook to have graduated in 1828.
Jacob and Marianne last known child is Rebecka Bruck and is their only child whose birth was recorded on LDS Microfilm 1184449 for Ratibor. (Figure 23) Her fate was unknown until I found her death register listing in the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s Signature Book 1699 indicating she died in Ratibor on the 16th of September 1819 at 4 years 8 months of age. (Figure 24)
In closing, let me make a few remarks. As readers can tell, I hold myself to a very high standard when documenting vital statistics for individuals I’m researching. On rare occasions, ancestral trees with vital data will direct me to information I can verify. Thanks to German and Polish friends and family, while compiling source documents for this post, I was able to uncover vital information for three additional children of Jacob and Marianne, namely, Wilhelmine Bruck, Moritz Bruck, and Fanny Bruck. While there are likely limits to what more can be uncovered, particularly for their children who died at birth or in infancy, I remain convinced additional primary source documents exist and that I may eventually find them. As things now stand, I’m confident I’ve proven the existence of nine of Jacob and Marianne’s children and confirmed the birth and death dates of six of them.
REFERENCES
Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder. (1828)
VITAL DATA & SOURCE OF INFORMATION ON JACOB NATHAN BRUCK & MARIANNE BRUCK, NÉE AUFRECHT’S CHILDREN
NOTE: My frustration with ancestral data in other people’s family trees is that they are often unsourced. In the table below, I’ve noted whether the data is “confirmed” or “unconfirmed.” I do not generally consider hand drawn family trees to be irrefutable proof of accuracy, nor do I consider the Geneanet Community Tree Index a primary source document. Even among contemporary records, I’ve occasionally found errors though generally consider the information in these registers and certificates to be the best available. I welcome corrections and additions from readers that have a personal interest in the information provided below.
NAME
(relationship)
EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE
Jacob Nathan Bruck (self)
Birth
18 February 1770 (unconfirmed)
Pschow, Prussia [today: Pszów, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marriage
16 May 1793 (unconfirmed)
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
29 June 1836 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1698_0078; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marianne Aufrecht (wife)
Birth
21 August 1776 (unconfirmed)
Teschen, Prussia [today: Cieszyn, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marriage
16 May 1793
(unconfirmed)
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
1835 (unconfirmed)
Geneanet Community Tree Index
Wilhelmine Bruck (daughter)
Birth
24 April 1796 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Marriage (to Wilhelm Friedenstein)
7 November 1814 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449; Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0053
Death
21 December 1864 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Dorothea Babbett Bruck (daughter)
Birth
Marriage (to Salomon Freund)
25 February 1817 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449
Death
Marcus Moritz Bruck (son)
Birth
24 December 1800 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
1845 biography entitled “Gelehrtes Berlin in Jahre 1845”
Marriage (to Nannette v. Aldersthal)
16 October 1836 (confirmed)
Berlin, Germany
Berlin Marriage Certificate
Death
25 October 1863 (confirmed)
Berlin, Germany
Tuchler Family Tree on MyHeritage; buried in the Jüdische Friedhof in der Schönhauser Allee in Gräberfeld J, Erbbegräbnis 170 (Grave Field J, Hereditary Burial 170)
Fanny Bruck (daughter)
Birth
8 November 1804 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Marriage (to Isaac Seliger)
26 November 1822 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449; Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0055
Death
29 August 1879 (confirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland; Letter written & signed by Fanny Seliger dated 19 February 1873 in the online archives of the Central Jewish Library (https://cbj.jhi.pl/documents/375623/8/)
Isaac Bruck (son)
Birth
~1805 (unconfirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819, roster of students (Isaac said to be 13 years old in June 1819); Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder, Vol. 18, 26 May 1828, p. 213 (Isaac said to be 22 years old in May 1828)
Marriage (to Caroline Stolz)
Separated
14 July 1835 (confirmed)
Gleiwitz, Prussia [Gliwice, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilms 1195054 & 1194055 for Gleiwitz [Gliwice, Poland]
Death
Samuel Bruck (son)
Birth
11 March 1808 (confirmed)
Pschow, Prussia [today: Pszów, Poland]
Caption on family photo; Pinkus Family Collection, Leo Baeck Institute
Marriage (to Charlotte Marle)
18 January 1831 (unconfirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
3 July 1863 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Caption on family photo
Heimann Heinrich Bruck (son)
Birth
~1812 (unconfirmed)
Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor, 1819-1849 roster of students (Heimann said to be 11 years old in April 1823); MyHeritage family tree
Marriage (to Rosalie “Rosa” Bruck)
21 August 1832 (confirmed)
Neisse, Prussia [today: Nysa, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 00799058, page 17 of 596 & 68 of 596;
Death
1875 (unconfirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
MyHeritage family tree
Jonas Bruck (son)
Birth
5 March 1813 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland; Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819, roster of students (Jonas said to be 10.5 years old on April 1824)
Marriage (to Rosalie Marle)
Death
5 April 1883 (unconfirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Rebecka Bruck (daughter)
Birth
10 January 1815 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449
Death
16 September 1819 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0067
Note: Tiering off a few elusive clues I found about my third great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) from Ratibor [today:Racibórz, Poland], I examine the historic and geographic context in which the events he was involved in played out.
In Post 150 I told readers how I discovered my great-great-great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck’s death register listing among the primary source documents digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s “Silius Radicum” project. The index proves Jacob died in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] on the 29th of June 1836 at the age of 66. (Figure 1) As the oldest known Bruck from the Ratibor line, I refer to him as the paterfamilias.
Finding definitive proof of my long-ago ancestor’s death is particularly satisfying as ancestral trees on ancestry.com and MyHeritage, often cloning erroneous information from one another, indeterminately placed his death as 1832. Having never been able to independently verify Jacob’s vital data, it was always an open question of when exactly he died.
In the last several months, I’ve uncovered a smattering of clues from a range of sources that give me a limited sense of Jacob’s life. Before delving into these, I want to touch on a few intriguing finds I’ve made in the process.
First, a little background. According to a memoir written by Bertha Bruck (Figure 2), the grandmother of one of my recently deceased cousins, Jacob Nathan Bruck and his wife Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht had 12 children. Most of my cousins, whom I consider highly accomplished genealogists, can account for seven or eight of them. I think I can provide corroboration of nine of Jacob and Marianne’s purported 12 children. Presenting the underlying proof relying on evidence-based primary source documents will be the subject of an upcoming post.
While researching one of Jacob and Marianne’s offspring, Marcus Moritz Bruck, I stumbled upon a Bruck Family Tree on Geneanet Community Tree Index. Geneanet is a collaborative website with ancestral data added by participants and intended for all genealogists.
I sound my usual admonishment about the accuracy of any ancestral tree particularly if source documents are not attached and/or identified. Nonetheless, Geneanet corroborates Jacob Nathan Bruck’s date of death as the 29th of June 1836, as I’ve independently discovered; having learned that Jacob was 66 upon his death obviously means that he was born in 1770. Geneanet not only confirms that Jacob was born in 1770, but also provides his exact date and place of birth, the 18th of February 1770 in Pschow [Pszów, Poland]. (Figure 3) Notwithstanding my usual doubts about the accuracy of ancestral trees, the specificity of Jacob’s place and date of death suggests it could be accurately drawn from an entry in some unknown birth register. For the moment, I reserve judgement.
Another intriguing find I made on the Bruck Family Tree in Geneanet is the name and dates of birth and death of Jacob’s father, Nathan Bruck, purportedly born in Upper Silesia in Poland in 1735 who died there in 1825 at age 90. (Figure 4) Again, absent more background information, I remain skeptical as to the veracity of this data.
Some brief historical geography. The historical region of Silesia is now in southwestern Poland. Silesia was originally a Polish province, which became a possession of the Bohemian crown in 1335, passed with that crown to the Austrian Hapsburgs in 1526, and was taken by Prussia in 1742. In 1945, at the end of World War II, Silesia was one of the regions of German territory that was granted to Poland by the Soviet Union in compensation for land in eastern Poland that was incorporated into the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, land that is today part of the Ukraine.
For the purposes of this discussion, in 1735 when Nathan Bruck was born Upper Silesia would have been part of the Hapsburg empire. (Figure 5) Where ancestral records from this period are archived and even whether they still exist are unknown. If Nathan did indeed survive until 1825, his death would likely have been recorded in the death register in the Prussian town where he died; it’s possible the register noting his age when he died survives while the Austrian Hapsburg empire birth register no longer exists. At present Nathan’s place of death is unconfirmed.
I would like to briefly touch on a fascinating possibility stemming from the discovery that Nathan Bruck lived until age 90. Because of her ancestral connection to Jacob Nathan Bruck and Nathan Bruck, in passing I told Helen Winter, nee Renshaw, my fourth cousin from Wolverhampton, England, about my discovery, namely, about Jacob’s date of birth and the possibility that his father lived into his 10th decade. In response, Helen casually mentioned an unframed painting that she and her sister once saw 30 or more years ago of a diminished, toothless old man. The unnerving effect it had on young children means the picture remained secreted. Given her family’s ancestral connection to Nathan Bruck, could it be that this painting is a rendering of Nathan Bruck? The search is now on by Helen and her sister to try and relocate this potential “treasure.” Stay tuned!
Jacob Nathan Bruck is my and Helen Winter’s last common Bruck relative, being the third great-grandfather to both of us. Helen’s paternal grandfather, Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) (Figure 6) wrote a memoir for his daughter Margot Renshaw, nee Bruck, Helen’s mother, in which he briefly mentioned Jacob.
The original German passage and the English translation read as follows:
ORIGINAL PASSAGE
Mein Urgrossvater Jacob Bruck, 1762-1832, war Hotelbesitzer. Ihm gehörte das erste Hotel in Ratibor an der Oder ( Oberschlesien ). Das Hotel hiess “Prinz von Preussen”. Es wurde von Jacob Bruck um 1800 erbaut und bestand noch, wie ich aus einer Zeitungsnotis entnahm, 1933. Jacob Bruck war ein unternehmender Mann. Er besass auch eine Werft an der Oder, wo grössere Schiffe ( sog. “Oderkähne”) gebaut wurden. Um das nötige Holz zu erhalten, pachtete er Walder in Osterreichisch- Schlesien.
TRANSLATION
My great grandfather, Jacob Bruck, 1762 -1832 [EDITOR’S NOTE: INCORRECT DATES], was a hotelier. He owned the first hotel in Ratibor on Oder in Upper Silesia. The hotel was called the “Prince of Prussia.” He had it built in around 1800 and it was still standing in 1933, according to a newspaper item I saw. Jacob Bruck was an enterprising man. He also owned a shipyard on the Oder, where large craft (the so called ‘Oder Barges’) were built. To obtain the timber needed for these, he leased forests in Austrian Silesia.
A few observations and comments concerning what Eberhard Bruck wrote about Jacob and his occupational endeavors. As previously discussed, Jacob was born in 1770, not in 1762, and passed away in 1836, not in 1832. Eberhard was born in 1877 so would not personally have known his great-grandfather. Likely, his “memories” of Jacob would be recollections he’d heard of him as a child and would be distorted by the prism through which childhood memories are often processed and remembered.
I have tried to confirm whether what Eberhard wrote vis a vis Jacob Bruck is true, and in the process crafted what I consider to be a more accurate scenario of what likely happened. I will relate this is a future blog post where I recount when the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel was probably built based on documented accounts of when the walls and towers surrounding and historically protecting Ratibor were torn down. I invite readers to stay tuned for this upcoming post but suffice it for now to say that it’s unlikely that Jacob had the Bruck’s Hotel constructed prior to his death nor that he was its first owner. This does not mean that Jacob did not operate the town’s first hotel as he is known to have owned several parcels of land in Ratibor. More on this below.
As I’ve discussed in earlier posts, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel survived WWII mostly intact but was dismantled by the Communist authorities to harvest the hotel’s bricks to rebuild Warsaw.
Prior to his passing, I asked my friend Paul Newerla whether Oderkähne, or Oder River barges, had ever been constructed in Ratibor, and he confirmed there had once been a shipyard there along the Oder River. He sent a postcard showing a large craft, possibly of the type Jacob manufactured. (Figure 7) Given that Jacob Bruck was fabricating these before he died in 1836 and that 1839 is the generally accepted date as the birth year of practical photography, no photographs of the barges Jacob manufactured are known.
I also discussed this matter with another good friend, Peter Albrecht von Preußen. As he was reading an 1861 book on Ratibor entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor und deren Stadtteile” (“History of the Town of Ratibor and Its Districts”) by Augustin Weltzel, I asked him to be on the lookout for any mention of Oder River barges or ship building activities in Ratibor but neither subject was broached.
A quick note about Augustin Weltzel’s 1861 book. Regrettably it is written in Fraktur font, a calligraphic hand of the Latin alphabet and any of several blackletter typefaces derived from this hand; Fraktur was commonly used to write German and other European languages from the 16th to the 20th century. Regrettably, this invaluable book has not been transcribed into modern-day German script, nor translated into Polish or English. On my behalf, Peter read through and synopsized relevant sections for me. Suffice it to say this book is full of valuable historical insights about the history of Ratibor that will serve as the foundation for my theory as to when the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel could realistically have been constructed.
Returning briefly to the issue of Oder River barges, Peter discovered that on average an Oderkahne was 130 feet long, 13 to 15 feet wide, and 3 to 4 feet deep, so by no means a small boat. Assuming these were assembled on land, the factory or shop would have had to have been very close to the river. Possibly the shipyard was located outside Ratibor’s city limits, and therefore not mentioned in Weltzel’s book.
Intriguingly, Peter sent me a photograph of the type of barge I initially imagined Jacob Bruck was constructing. (Figure 8) The reason it seems more representative of barges Jacob Bruck was building is that they were mostly used to transport agricultural products from Ratibor to Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], which this one appears to have been suited for. According to Weltzel, the three primary industries at the time wrote his book were weaving, grain production, and limestone manufacturing.
The pole on the barge in Figure 8 would have been attached to a rope which in turn would have been fastened and pulled upstream by a horse from the banks of the Oder. Once unloaded, it could basically float empty downriver. The “newer” type of barge illustrated in Figure 7, which began to appear between around 1850 to 1860, would have been steam-powered. According to Weltzel, the Oder River was not well suited for larger barges between Ratibor and Breslau, even during the rainy seasons in the spring when high waters would have made navigating larger craft easier.
A constant concern for the city were the bridges spanning the Oder River which collapsed or were destroyed no fewer than a dozen times historically because of fires, wars, flooding, ice buildup, and strong currents undermining the structures. The bridges were constantly rebuilt in different locations but because of the sandy sediment of the Oder they rarely survived for long until advanced building techniques were devised.
Eberhard Bruck’s fleeting reference to the fact that Jacob obtained his wood to build barges from Austrian Silesia sent me on a search to find maps delineating this area. In the attached figure, readers can see where “Oster Schlesien,” Austrian Silesia, was situated. (Figure 9) According to Paul Newerla, later shipyards apparently obtained their wood from Slovakia and Hungary, perhaps cheaper alternatives. Regardless, all three areas would have been logical places from which to obtain wood given their proximity to Ratibor.
Other fleeting references to Jacob Bruck can be found in a 1995 book by Thomas Wardenga entitled “Häuserbuch der Stadt Ratibor” (“House register of the town of Ratibor”). This book includes an 1812 map of Ratibor showing the town’s lots at the time, identifying property owners. Jacob is shown as the co-owner of three lots. (Figure 10)
Jacob is identified as a so-called “arrendator.” Not recognizing or being able to obtain a clear translation of this obscure and obsolete occupation, I turned to Paul Newerla, my recently deceased friend, for clarification. Translated, this is what Paul explained about Jacob’s line of work:
Arendator [EDITOR’S NOTE: ALSO SPELLED AS “ARRENDATOR”] is known to be a tenant of a pub, for example. During my research, I came across several instances where a tavern was leased by the noble owner of the village, for example. The right to produce spirits (distiller) was sometimes associated with the bar. However, the tenant had to buy the beer from the owner’s brewery. Sometimes it was the other way round: the right to brew beer was linked to the arrende, but the brandy had to be bought from the “lord”. In such cases, it can be said that a person could have been both “arrendator” and “distiller” and/or beer tenant (brewer).
Recently, while doing further research I discovered an excellent article by Alan Weiser entitled “The Arenda System: A Boon or Bane for Jews.” According to the author, “The arenda has been defined by the University of Virginia in its course on European Jewry as a system of leasing property in early modern Poland in which in exchange for a predetermined rent the lessor agreed to transfer to the lessee control over property or rights; thus, enabling the lessee to pocket any income produced from the leased property or rights. The arenda provided a livelihood for a significant proportion of Polish Jewish families.” Jacob as the lessee in an arenda contract would have been called an “arendar” or “arrendator.”
It has been suggested that because of the pressure the Jewish arendars were under to make payments to magnates and kings who owned the leased properties this resulted in large scale Jewish community debt causing the arendars to apply harsh measures to their serfs to ensure high productivity as soon as possible. According to Alan Weiser, “There was considerable anti-Semitic backlash resulting from this interaction.”
I encourage readers interested in learning more about the Arenda system to read Alan Weiser’s article and review his bibliographic references.
Thanks to another of my Polish acquaintances, Mr. Kamil Kotas from Chałupki, Poland, known in Prussian times as Annaberg, I was made aware of another very obscure reference to Jacob Bruck I would never have found on my own. On the Leo Baeck Institute’s website, in a file entitled the “Ratibor Community Collection,” Kamil found a typed German report translated as “The Jewish Community of Ratibor and its Cemetery” by C. Baendel. According to this document Jacob Bruck was one of the members of the Jewish community in Ratibor authorized to carry out the transaction of purchasing the land for the Jewish cemetery in 1814; according to C. Baendel, the deed is dated the 4th of October 1814.
Interestingly, the deed was signed by all those authorized on the Jewish side authorized to negotiate the purchase, while on the selling side, the three heirs of a man named Johann Huttny had to use the help of a witness to confirm their signatures (they were probably illiterate) and a translator (they were probably from the Slavic-speaking local population). C. Bandel notes the cemetery was once used to mine brown coal, the prospects of which do not appear to have been lucrative. He also mentions the centennial celebration of the cemetery was set for the 26th of November 1913. The link to C. Baendel’s document can be found among the references.
The Polish website, Cmentarz Żydowski w Polsce, List of Jewish Cemeteries in Poland, provides additional historical background on the Ratibor Jewish cemetery. Prior to its acquisition in 1814, Jews from Ratibor were buried in nearby Zülz [today: Biała Prudnicka, Poland], Nikolai [today: Mikołów, Poland], Langendorf [today: Hlučín, Czech Republic], or Hotzenplotz [today: Osoblaha, Czech Republic], or further afield in Bodzanów in central Poland. Purportedly, burials did not begin until 1817, though the oldest documented headstone dated from 1821. The last burials took place, respectively, in March 1940 and February 1941.
As I discussed in Post 13 and Post 13, Postscript, the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor was demolished during Poland’s Communist Era in 1973. Quoting from an anonymous resident of Racibórz, who sent a letter to the Polish website Cmentarz Żydowski w Polsce, described the events as follows: “One day gentlemen appeared, described all the tombstones with colored paint, then arranged them according to some key. The most beautiful ones were taken to the reconstruction of the Royal Castle in Warsaw. The less attractive ones were sold to stonemasons. The remains of the stones were still lying around for a long time. It looked terrible; the real devastation of the cemetery, demolished, felled, dug up stones. What was left was chaos, rubble, and so the bushes were overgrown. I think that the destruction was undertaken due to the necessity of delivering the marbles to Warsaw.”
A plaque was placed at the cemetery by a Pawel Głogowski in April 2014 (Figure 11), and more recently on 19th of December 2023, a ceremony was held there with representatives from Warsaw’s Muzeum Historii Żydów Polskich Polin, the Museum of the History of Polish Jews; Director of the Museum in Racibórz; and several Jewish attendees including a Rabbi who offered a prayer. (Figure 12) Fragmentary pieces of headstones were collected. (Figure 13)
In closing, I would note that while the historical references to my third great-grandfather are elusive, they’ve provided me the opportunity to discuss a wide number of topics including the geopolitical landscape at the time; ship building in Ratibor; the source of wood used in barge construction; the Arenda System; and the purchase of land for the construction of the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor and its ultimate destruction.
Note: This post is primarily a tribute to my recently deceased friend from Racibórz, Poland, Paul Newerla, who generously and selflessly assisted me in innumerable ways over the years while I was researching and writing about my Bruck family. I am deeply saddened by his passing, but honored to have known him and appreciative he deemed my efforts worthy of his time.
Typically, I get up every morning at 4am and head to the gym. On Sundays when I’m done and am driving home my local National Public Radio station is broadcasting a show called “A Way with Words,” co-hosted by Martha Barnette and Grant Barrett. They talk with callers from around the world about slang, grammar, old sayings, word origins, regional dialects, family expressions, and speaking and writing well.
In one recent episode, an African-American gentleman from the South called to tell of his use of the word “conversate,” an expression I was unfamiliar with. Use of “conversating” instead of “conversing” is considered non-standard or informal in many English-speaking communities; as readers will surmise, it means to engage in conversation. Since my blog posts are an informal method of telling stories about my ancestors and extended family and the people and the sometimes-tragic events that surrounded their lives, conversating strikes an appropriate balance, like having a fireside chat. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve casually conversated with readers, so the moment seems right.
In the last several months I’ve acquired an astonishing amount of new information, some of it related to my earliest relatives from Ratibor, Prussia [Racibórz, Poland] and other details connected to various family and acquaintances I’ve written about over the years. The particulars will form the basis for some upcoming posts and postscripts to earlier articles.
There is a limit to how much I can reconstruct using only ancestry.com or MyHeritage, so the contributions, interpretations, and observations drawn from family memoirs and diaries, books, websites, and knowledgeable researchers and historians enhance my understanding of how, when, and where my forefathers were active in Ratibor, Prussia, Silesia, and elsewhere the Jewish diaspora took them.
Longtime readers of my blog have periodically heard me refer to my cadre of helpers as my “boots on the ground.” They are an eclectic group consisting of friends and acquaintances, professionals and amateurs, near and distant relatives, and, of course, readers.
Sadly, in the past few days, I’ve heard from no fewer than four Polish acquaintances telling me of the passing of my dear friend from Racibórz, Mr. Paul Newerla, a 91-year-old gentleman and elder statesman, who found a second calling, following his retirement as a lawyer, researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia. (Figure 1)
Like many of the people who’ve provided color commentary, history, and context for my posts, Paul found me through my blog. Our initial conversations revolved around the business enterprise, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel (Figure 2), my family owned and operated from around 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor. Our discussions quickly expanded beyond this topic as I was trying to track down primary source documents related to extended family members connected with Ratibor and trying to figure out how long my Bruck family had been associated with the town.
I clearly remember in 2019 when Paul was doing research for an article he was writing about the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school. (Figure 3) He miraculously managed to track down the original roster of students who attended the high school from its founding in 1819 through 1849. (Figure 4) What made this discovery so astonishing is that he found this document not in the Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, or in the Muzeum w Raciborzu, or Racibórz Museum, but rather among the old files of the gymnasium, now an economic middle school. It goes without saying, on my own I probably could not have accessed this invaluable document with the names of multiple of my early Bruck ancestors even had I been aware of its existence.
Naturally, upon discovering the roster’s whereabouts and making special arrangements to photograph it, Paul sent me copies of the individual pages. Opening each of the roughly 100 pages reminded me of my days as a dirt archaeologist never knowing what the next shovelful or trowel scrapping would reveal. For those of you who’ve never gone through seemingly “dry” documents may not appreciate how enthralling this can sometimes be.
On another occasion, Paul again tracked down and photographed a 73-page document I could assuredly not have accessed on my own. It was the Grundbuch, the land register, for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory, in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] (Figure 5), outside Racibórz. (Figure 6) Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered. Long-time readers know that I have written extensively about the Zuckerfabrik because of my family’s ancestral connection to the original co-owners of the factory, Adolph Schück and Sigmund Hirsch.
Paul knew the German land registers are archived at the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz; he also knew that because these land registers have not yet been archived, they are currently inaccessible to researchers. Nonetheless, Paul convinced the head of the State Archives in Racibórz to let him into the basement to rummage through the uncatalogued documents to search for the land register for the sugar factory. (Figure 7) He found it in a file entitled “Woinowitz Blatt 161,” Woinowitz Sheet 161. Readers can easily imagine how improbable my gaining access to the basement of the State Archives to search for the Grundbuch would have been.
I could always count on Paul to patiently answer my endless stream of questions, no matter how mundane, and send me references, records, illustrative materials, maps, photos, postcards, etc. to better understand the history of people, places, and events in Ratibor and Silesia. Paul was helpful in multiple other ways, including on several occasions when he visited the State Archives at my request to track down a primary source document I was convinced existed.
I have little doubt a small part of why Paul was so willing to help me is that I am a direct descendant of the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor and bear the Americanized version of the surname. That said, I’m positive he would have been equally helpful to anyone having an interest in the history of Ratibor and Silesia. That’s the type of man Paul was.
I consider it an extreme honor to have personally met Paul, to have had him show me some of modern Racibórz, and for his patient and professional assistance over the years. Like many others, he provided affirmation that my family history blog fulfills a service which I would not be able to provide absent the contributions and exhortations of dedicated folks like Paul and other readers. I’m deeply thankful for Paul’s help over the years, as well as the assistance provided by other followers of my blog.
Note: In this post I discuss some primary source documents from Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] and Upper Silesia I was recently made aware of. I also explain to readers how to access these online ancestral records digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society. Finally, I highlight a few “gems” I uncovered that date back to my earliest known Bruck ancestor from Ratibor.
This story begins with an email my good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 1) sent me with a link to a Dropbox account with a stash of primary source documents from Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]. Regular readers will recognize this as the town in Upper Silesia (Figure 2) to which some of my Jewish ancestors had an association of over 100 years and where the erstwhile family establishment, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, was owned through three generations of my family, from around 1850 until 1926.
Having previously and on multiple occasions carefully examined three microfilm rolls of Jewish vital records from Ratibor (i.e., LDS Family History Center (FHC) Microfilms 1184447, 1184448, & 1184449) available through the Mormon Church’s familysearch website and having personally visited and spent many hours at the Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz (Figure 3), scrutinizing civil registration records of vital events for my family, I had scant expectations of finding anything new. I had no reason to believe additional documents of vital events for Jews from Ratibor still exist. I could not have been more wrong.
Below I will walk readers step-by-step through how to access the database I learned about that includes not only primary source documents about Jews from Ratibor and some adjoining towns but also the more extensive Catholic and Lutheran parish records from across Upper Silesia. I will also detail some of the most satisfying discoveries I made about some near and distant forebears, breakthroughs I honestly thought I would never realize. However, I’m going to start at the tail end and explain the origin of these primary source documents.
The source of the documents Peter sent me is the “Górnośląskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne ‘Silius Radicum’,” or the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society “Silesian Roots.” Under an agreement signed on the 21st of January 2015 with the State Archives in Katowice, the Society obtained permission to digitize genealogical records in the State Archive, a function not then being undertaken by the National Archives. The Society further obtained authorization to post the digitized records to their website.
The published books are classified according to the three main faiths, Roman Catholic, Evangelical, and Jewish within the historical area of Upper Silesia. The records generally cover the years 1800 to 1874 and are duplicates of records which were submitted to the court. At the time these records were created, the Standesämter, the civil registration offices, had not yet been established in Prussia, something which began in 1874.
The Ratibor-related files to which Peter Albrecht sent me the Dropbox link are listed in the following table:
Book Signature Number
Polish & English Names
No. of Pages
1693
Racibórz akta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego—urodzenia 1851-1855.
Racibórz population records of the Jewish faith, births 1851 – 1855.
304
1694
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia 1910
Racibórz population records of the Jewish faith, births 1910
12
1695
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–małżeństwa 1869-1870
Racibórz records of Jewish population, marriages 1869-1870
299
1696
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–małżeństwa 1872-1885
Racibórz records of the Jewish population, marriages 1872-1885
376
1697
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia, małżeństwa 1852-1853
Racibórz population records of the Jewish faith, births + marriages 1852-1853
386
1698
Racibórz(powiat)akta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia, zgony 1841-1847
Racibórz (county) population records of the Jewish faith, births + deaths 1841-1847
17
1699
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia, małżeństwa, rozwody, zgony 1815-1844
Racibórz Jewish population records – births + marriages + divorces + deaths 1815-1844
87
1700
Racibórzakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia, małżeństwa, rozwody, zgony 1845-1847
Kornowacakta ludności wyznania mojżeszowego–urodzenia, małżeństwa, zgony1845-1848
Kornowac (Kornowatz) Jewish population records – births, marriages, deaths 1845-1848
24
TOTAL PAGES
1,549
For my purposes, Signature Books 1701 (Groß Gorschütz) and 1702 (Kornowatz) were of no interest.
While theoretically including records between 1800 and 1874, readers will notice significant gaps in what’s been digitized. Whether those records still exist or have yet to be scanned is unknown. Excluding Signature Books 1701 and 1702 which cover areas outside Ratibor, the table below shows the years for which birth, marriage, divorce, and death records are available for Ratibor through the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s website:
Ratibor Births
Ratibor Marriages
Ratibor Divorces
Ratibor Deaths
1815-1844 (Book 1699)
1841-1847 (Book 1698)
1845-1847 (Book 1700)
1851-1855 (Book 1693)
1910 (Book 1694)
1815-1844 (Book 1699)
1845-1847 (Book 1700)
1869-1870 (Book 1695)
1872-1885 (Book 1697)
1815-1844 (Book 1699)
1845-1847 (Book 1700)
1815-1844 (Book 1699)
1841-1847 (Book 1698)
1845-1847 (Book 1700)
Comparing the above to what’s available for Ratibor through the Mormon Church’s Family History Library, we find three films with Jewish records. Microfilm 1184447 includes cemetery deeds between 1888 and 1940; Microfilm 1184448 records deaths between 1865 and 1930; and Microfilm 1184449 documents births between 1815 and 1874 and marriages between 1814 and 1862. Clearly researchers would want to examine both databases since there’s only partial overlap. More on this below.
Before discussing the most informative documents found in the other Signature Books, let me describe the process step by step for accessing the primary source documents digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society:
Go to https://siliusradicum.pl/en/ksiegi-metrykalne/
On the portal page, readers can select one of four languages: English, German, Polish, or Czech;
While the “User Panel” allows you to sign in or register, the records can be accessed without doing so simply by scrolling down the page to the list of towns;
The towns for which Signature Books are available are listed alphabetically;
By way of example, select “ASC Jewish Community—Racibórz (Ratibor”;
Select “Browse online with Dropbox” towards the bottom of the page, and the ten Signature Books described above will be listed;
Select one, then scroll through the pages, and download relevant pages individually;
Once done perusing all the pages in a particular Signature Book, hit the “Back” button. Select “ASC gminy żydowskiej – Racibórz (Ratibor)” under “Copy to Dropbox” or “Download” and you’ll be taken back to the list of Signature Books. The first page of each Signature Book is a PDF page that describes its contents.
For my purposes, Ratibor Signature Books, 1693, 1695, 1699, and 1700 were most informative.
I dub my great-great-great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) the paterfamilias of the Ratibor line of the Bruck family. As recently as Post 149, Part 1, I wrote it was indeterminately estimated he was born in 1762 or 1770 and died in 1832 or 1836. Thanks to a death register listing I found in Signature Book 1699, I now know his exact death date, the 29th of June 1836, when he was 66 years of age (Figure 4), meaning he obviously was born in 1770. This was the most exciting find in the Signature Books from Ratibor.
I will devote an upcoming post to the scant but tantalizing clues I’ve collected about Jacob Nathan Bruck, including the number of children I can firmly document that he and his wife, Marianne Aufrecht, begat. Various ancestral trees I’ve found on ancestry.com and in MyHeritage claim that his first offspring was a daughter named Helene Bruck who was purportedly married to an Itzig Mendel Guttman Aufrecht. Serendipitously, I also found Helene Aufrecht, née Bruck’s, death register listing showing she died in 1838 at the age of 68 (Figure 5), meaning that like Jacob Bruck she too was born in 1770. They could conceivably have been twins but were more likely cousins. While it’s possible Jacob’s first daughter was indeed named Helene, something I’ve not yet found evidence of, Helene Aufrecht was assuredly not Jacob’s daughter and Itzig Aufrecht was certainly not Jacob’s son-in-law. Intriguingly, Helene gave birth to a child in 1815 at the improbable age of 45. (Figure 6)
I often remind readers that some information found on family trees in ancestry.com, MyHeritage, and Geneanet with respect to dates of vital events and names and numbers of offspring is notoriously unreliable. Unverified vital data is often cloned from existing trees by people seeking to build their own genealogical charts. I typically reject much of this data unless it’s backed up by primary source documentation, particularly as it relates to individuals born in the late 18th and early 19th centuries when records on Jews living then are sparse.
It is not my intention to review all the personally intriguing discoveries I made in perusing the digitized Silius Radicum records from Ratibor, since they are of scant interest to most readers. However, several things stand out that are worth briefly discussing.
Even if the Ratibor records in Silius Radicum themselves are unique, some of the data was previously known to me from similar documents in which the same data was recorded. For example, three of the paterfamilias Jacob Nathan Bruck’s oldest daughters were married, respectively, in 1814 (Wilhelmine Bruck), 1817 (Dorothea Babette Bruck), and 1822 (Fanny Bruck). I previously discovered this information on LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449 where a register documenting their marriages and family relationships was found. (Figures 7-8) On the typed Jewish Records Indexing-Poland database, much of the same information is recorded, presumably copied from the Mormon Church’s films. (Figure 9)
In Silius Radicum I discovered register pages for the same three marriages, with family relationships similarly noted. (Figures 10-11) However, the handwriting is noticeably different and the registers dissimilar in appearance, meaning the information was recorded in duplicate and likely stored separately. Clearly, the records that Silius Radicum digitized were never photographed by the Mormon Church. Obviously, this is noteworthy because it means the possibility exists that additional records for Jews from Ratibor and Upper Silesia may eventually materialize.
One of my ancestors from Ratibor through whom I’m related to most of my cousins in America because of his fecundity was the brewer Markus Braun (1817-1870). On LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449, the birth register shows he had twelve children with his first wife, Caroline Spiegel, then another two with his second wife, Johanna Goldstein, the last of whom was born after he died and named after him. Signature Book 1693, while only covering the years 1851 through 1855, includes copies of the actual birth certificates for several of Markus’ children with his first wife. In Signature Book 1700, I learned that Markus and Caroline were married on the 25th of August 1846 (Figure 12), and discovered they had a daughter named Sara, the first of 13 rather than only 12 children, on the 28th of October 1846 (Figure 13), shortly after they wed.
Again, the dates of birth of most of Markus’ children was previously known to me from Microfilm 1184449. What is new based on the Signature Books from Ratibor are the actual birth certificates for several of Markus and Caroline’s children and the discovery of a 13th child with his first wife. This again proves that the documents digitized by Silius Radicum were not previously photographed by the Mormon Church and likely have not been closely studied by people investigating their ancestors from Ratibor.
One of the most extensive records I discovered was a 14-page marriage folio in Signature Book 1695 which includes Ratibor marriages from only 1869 and 1870. This brief period happens to coincide with when Alma Braun (1851-1919) (Figure 14), one of Markus’ daughters, got married to Adolph Schück (1840-1916) (Figure 15) on the 1st of September 1870, and is their marriage file. One of my German cousins translated and interpreted the document for me. Suffice it to say, the pages contain an astonishing amount of ancestral information, including the precise date Markus Braun died, the 4th of February 1870, at the age of 52; clearly, he died some months before Alma got married. Additionally, had I not already known this information, the file would have allowed me to work out family relationships which are recorded in detail.
As I mentioned above, there is some overlap between the Jewish records for Ratibor available online through familysearch and the newer stash found in Silius Radicum. For example, all the offspring of Jacob Nathan Bruck’s three eldest daughters married, respectively, in 1814, 1817, and 1822, are found in both databases. By contrast, for my great-great-grandparents Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) (Figure 16) and Charlotte Marle (1809-1861) (Figure 17), the Silius Radicum records only include eight of their nine known children; the ninth one can only be found on LDS Microfilm 1184449.
In closing, I admit that I do not know whether the Jewish and non-Jewish vital records the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society has digitized are widely known and/or used by ancestral researchers. I can only speak for myself and acknowledge that I was unaware of them. I hope for others who are in my situation that they may discover some hidden “gems” like I did.
EDITOR’S NOTE: My childhood friend’s daughter, Melissa Ashner, first moved to San Diego in late 2011, where my wife and I live. We would periodically get together for lunch or dinner, and invariably our discussion would veer towards some of my ancestral research which I had initiated perhaps a year earlier. At the time my discoveries were coming fast on the heels of one another and would culminate in a 13-week vacation to Europe in 2014 when my wife and I visited places from Poland to Spain associated with my Jewish family’s diaspora.
As Melissa explains, interest in her own family’s history began in 2018 with an offhand joke by her father. As it happens, both of our families have an ancestral connection to Upper Silesia, more specifically, Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] but also other nearby villages and towns. This post was inspired by my discovery that one of Melissa’s earliest recorded relatives, Joachim Marcus Aschner, was one of the original Jews to receive Prussian citizenship following enactment of the Emancipation Edict of 1812. The Bruck family had a connection to this town for over 100 years and this was where my father was born in 1907. There is no doubt in either of our minds that our families would have interacted with one another, particularly since the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor was owned by three generations of my family and would have been known to Melissa’s ancestors.
Knowing that many of the people I write about in my posts are unrelated to readers, there are three things I strive for to keep readers engaged. First, there is a process I typically follow to analyze the primary source data I find, a process which readers may be able to replicate in doing their own ancestral searches. Second, I try and make people aware of archival documents that may be available to ancestral researchers investigating their family’s history, and where these may be found. Third, I try and describe the social, geographic, and historical context my ancestors lived through, context which is important for any ancestral researcher to understand when studying how such events may have impacted their own family’s lives.
In perusing this post, I advise readers not to get caught up in all the family names Melissa cites. Rather, focus instead on her explanation for drawing a lineal connection between herself and Benjamin Moses Aschner (1768-1848) (4th great-grandfather), via Marcus Aschner (1806-1861) (3rd great-grandfather); Moritz Aschner (1831-1890) (2nd great-grandfather); Hugo Aschner (1869-1943) (1st great-grandfather); Martin Aschner (1905-1985) (grandfather); and Harold Ashner (b. 1951) (father). In the absence of existing primary source documents connecting Marcus Aschner and Moritz Aschner, Melissa makes a compelling case by drawing on indirect evidence. Readers can decide for themselves whether her argument is convincing.
My interest in my family’s history began in 2018. It started with a joke from my father that he needed more family members. I initially set out to uncover the whereabouts of his uncle Paul’s family — the war traumatized and separated this generation. However, the process of research and discovery was intriguing, and I quickly began to dig deeper.
Details pertaining to this early generation have been challenging to unravel. However, Joachim Marcus Aschner and Benjamin Moses Aschner were likely brothers. Joachim and Benjamin were both born in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] — Joachim in 1775, and Benjamin in 1767 or 1768. Their sibling relationship is evidenced by their geographical movements from Ratibor to the Smolna district of Rybnik in the early 1800s, as well as by the timing of their registration with local authorities.
Emancipation of Prussian Jews
Under Prussian rule, the Jewish communities in Upper Silesia, which included Rybnik, were subject to the General Juden-Reglement für Süd und Neu-Ostpreussen. These regulations gradually led to the Edikt die Burgerlichen Berhaltnisse der Juden, which emancipated Prussian Jews in 1812 (Sobczak, 2023; History, n.d.).
Consequently, Jews gained access to various trades and professions previously restricted to them and were eligible to become citizens. Surname adoption became mandatory around this time for Prussian Jews, replacing traditional use of patronymics. In order to obtain citizenship, Jews were required to assume a surname (Jewish Naming Customs, 2023; History, n.d.).
The documents below (Figures 1a-c), recorded on May 7, 1814, are civil registrations that are linked with these political and economic shifts. These documents include information pertaining to Joachim’s and Benjamin’s respective families, including names, birthdates, marriage dates, and children’s birth and death dates, where applicable.
From the vital information provided in these figures, a generous amount of information can be extracted. Joachim Marcus Aschner married Katel Henriette Jacob in 1803. They had a daughter, Freidel, in 1804, a son, Wilhelm, in 1805, a daughter, Johanna, in 1812, and a daughter, Rebecca, in 1815.
Benjamin Moses Aschner married Anna Grossman in 1798, and they had a son, Isaac, in 1799. For unknown reasons, this union did not last, and Benjamin remarried in March of 1800. He and his second wife, Rosalie Sarel “Charlotte” Rosenthal, had ten children together, including three sons, Abraham (1801), Adolf (1803), and Marcus (1806), and seven daughters, Handel Johanna (1804), Rebecca (1810), Jeanette (1812), Zorl (1814), Maria (1816), Verone (1819), and Ester (1820). Maria died in 1820.
Now, both Joachim Marcus and Benjamin Moses’s lineages can be traced to present times. However, Benjamin’s lineage has been my primary research focus, as after countless hours of reviewing films, various sources, and considering the possibilities, I am 99% certain that Benjamin is my great-great-great-great-grandfather. I will explain my reasoning as we move through the generations, emphasizing the only instance in which I have been unable to view the primary documents to confirm this with 100% certainty.
Records in Figures 1a and 1c also suggest that Benjamin’s second wife, Charlotte, was born in 1773, and her youngest child was born in 1820. While this would imply that she birthed her daughter, Esther, at the very unlikely age of 47, further discoveries would be necessary to refine my understanding. There also appears to be a discrepancy regarding Benjamin’s year of birth, which isn’t entirely uncommon, even in primary documents (Brook, 2020).
Typhus Epidemic in Rybnik (1847-1848)
Notably, at least three ancestors, including Benjamin, his second wife, and his son with his first wife, passed away between February and March of 1848. Benjamin’s death in Rybnik on February 1, 1848, was documented as Nervenschlage, or nervous system shock. His wife’s records did not mention a cause, but she passed away very shortly after Benjamin, on March 4, 1848 (Figure 2). His first son, Isaac, passed away in Nikolai [today: Mikołów, Poland] on March 19, 1848, from Nervenfieber, or nervous fever.
It is worth noting the context in which this occurred. In 1847-1848, a devastating typhus epidemic swept through Upper Silesia, affecting around 80,000 people in the regions of Pleß [today: Pszczyna, Poland] and Rybnik [today: Rybnik, Poland], with a death toll of 16,000. This major epidemic was further aggravated by a widespread famine, which led to many weakened immune systems (Kamusella, 1999). During this era, medical terminology used to describe illnesses often lacked precision due to the evolving understanding of diseases (Virchow, 1848). Given the vague descriptions and the rapid succession of deaths, it seems plausible that some ancestors may have fallen victim to this epidemic, succumbing to the highly prevalent and often fatal typhus fever—or, at the very least, suffered from illnesses compounded by the effects of famine.
The cross-referencing of details from various relatives has been instrumental in moving forward my research into this branch of the tree. For example, Benjamin’s own death record ambiguously labeled him as a Jewish tradesman. Yet, a more descriptive account appears in Figure 2, the death record of his wife, Charlotte, which identifies him specifically as a Potaschsieder und Handelsmann, translating to “pot-ash boiler and tradesman.”
The Next Generation and Obstacles in Research
Marcus Aschner, born in Rybnik in 1806, was a son of Benjamin and Charlotte. Diverging from the pot-ash boiling trade of his father, he became a soap boiler, or a seifenseider. Marcus married Jeanette Königsfeld in Mikołōw and they had six sons and three daughters together between 1826 and 1850. These nine birth records span several administrative regions—Beuthen [today: Bytom, Poland], Kattowitz [today: Katowice, Poland], and Nikolai [today: Mikołōw,Poland] —towns situated within 12 to 19 kilometers of one other and whose governance frequently shifted.[1] One of those sons was Moritz Aschner – my great-great-grandfather – he was born around 1831.
Herein lies the sole roadblock I have encountered in tracing my lineage to Benjamin Aschner – I have yet to uncover primary documentation that definitively affirms the paternal relationship between Marcus and Moritz Aschner. However, research involves many steps, many angles, and a multifaceted approach, which I have undertaken in exploring this challenge. As such, there are several reasons why I firmly believe that Marcus is the father of Moritz Aschner, and I have listed most of these reasons below:
1. Geographical proximity, chronology, and profession. These are the most obvious supporting factors. Both father, Marcus, and son, Moritz, were Jewish soap boilers in the same general locality.
2. The tradition of naming Jewish children. Marcus Aschner died in 1861, from what was documented as general dropsy. Moritz named his firstborn son Marcus, in 1863. It is customary in Judaism to name the child after a recently deceased close relative.
3. While Moritz’s parents aren’t directly named in records obtained for Moritz, primary records for his siblings do list Marcus and Jeanette as parents, increasing confidence that they are Moritz’s parents as well.
Now, before I get too far ahead of myself with the fourth reason, additional details are necessary. (Figure 3) Moritz Aschner married Rosalie Wachsmann in Beuthen in September 1857. (The marriage index does not mention their parents – that would be too easy, I guess.)
Moritz and Rosalie then had two girls followed by five consecutive boys: Auguste (1857), Hannchen (1861), Marcus (1863), Noa (1864), Benjamin (1865), Lev (1867), and Hugo (1869). Their first-born son, the namesake Marcus, sadly died as an infant, with sister Hannchen passing away the same year. Their second son, Noa, eventually became a known fugitive, robbing a German bank. Their youngest son, Hugo, was born in 1869 in Laurahütte [today: Siemianowice Śląskie, Poland] – he was my great-grandfather (Figure 4).
As adults, Moritz’s children moved away from the family’s soap-boiling trade and branched out into diverse careers. The transportation options in the late nineteenth century expanded their opportunities, and Hugo relocated to Frankfurt, Germany. There, he joined the textile sector, finding employment in a hat factory located at Kaiserstraße 63.
Hugo married Else Stich, my great-grandmother, in Frankfurt in 1899. They had two sons: Phillip Paul Aschner, known as Paul, born in 1900, and Martin Moritz Aschner, known as Martin (and later, “Opa”), born in 1905. Soon after, Hugo and Else relocated to Berlin with their sons, perhaps for business opportunities.
Now, for the fourth reason:
4. In 1909, one of Moritz’s nephews died in Berlin. His name was Paul Aschner (a different Paul Aschner). Hugo, his first cousin, was one of the few relatives in Berlin at the time, and he reported this death to the registrar (Figure 5). This further strengthens the evidence of the family relationships, as Hugo’s tie to Paul was through their parents, who were brothers – sons of Marcus Aschner.
Both Martin, my grandfather, and Paul, my great-uncle, worked in the clothing industry in Berlin. Martin sold ladies gloves and jackets, and Paul owned a clothing shop. (Figure 6) Berlin telephone directories in the early 20th century revealed that Hugo lived with each of his sons at various intervals. Presumably, Else did as well.
Paul Aschner’s business was among many Jewish clothing businesses that were subjected to increasingly aggressive restrictions imposed by the Nazi regime. These challenges included forced sales and liquidation without fair compensation (Fashion and Persecution, 2016). Following the Nuremberg Laws of 1935, Paul could not continue operating his store on Mohrenstraße 37a. Records show transfer of possession in 1935 and liquidation in 1939. Paul temporarily moved his store to Kronenstraße 55, where it operated from 1936-1938.
Paul was also named in an antisemitic smear piece by the publication Der Stürmer (Figure 7). This article, published in January 1938, lists Jewish textile companies that were newly founded in Berlin, naming Paul Aschner among others. The article shames the “so-called businessmen” that “are characterless enough to give their orders to the Jews.” The article goes on to threaten these characterless German businessmen and writes that “Der Stürmer will publish their names soon” (Fashion and Persecution, 2016).[2]
By this time, the circumstances had become dire, compelling Paul, Martin, and many others in the Jewish community to seek refuge beyond Germany’s borders amidst the escalating persecution of the Holocaust.
The Holocaust
Unfortunately, it was incredibly difficult to get out of Germany. Martin, Paul’s brother, left in May 1938, arriving and staying in America. Paul strongly hoped to follow. His urgent telegrams to Martin demonstrate the challenges in obtaining necessary affidavits to leave, and his concerns about the window to submit the required forms amidst the limited space left in the German quota.
At the time, Paul was married to Gerda Neumann. Paul left ahead of Gerda, though details regarding why they did not travel together remain unclear. It is possible that they seized any opportunity to leave, with Gerda intending to follow closely behind Paul. Just one week after his passport visa was issued, Paul was on his way to America.
Details as to the specific reasons are unclear, but my great uncle was not able to stay in America, where he had family. He ended up in Santiago, Chile. Tragically, a few months after Paul’s departure, Gerda was evicted from her residence. She was relocated to Helmstedter Straße 23, a location shared with over 90 other Jewish victims. From there, she and the others were transported to extermination camps where they met a tragic fate (Milgroym, 2023).
It is also unclear as to whether Hugo and Else, my great-grandparents, had tried to leave Germany. It is possible that they pooled together resources to help their sons escape, but I am only speculating. Sadly, both Else and Hugo were deported with Transport 29 from Berlin, Germany to Auschwitz Birkenau, Extermination Camp, Poland on February 19, 1943, where they were murdered. (Figures 8-11)
Below, a 75-year-old letter, located among my family’s items, is pictured (Figure 12). While I do not claim to be psychic, I can attest that the weight of this letter was immediately sensed, well before transcribing it – it had been read many times, with a very heavy heart.
The letter follows up on an inquiry to the American Joint Distribution Committee regarding the whereabouts of Hugo and Else Aschner. The letter states that these individuals were deported with Transport No. 43/25414 on February 19, 1943. It advises that these individuals did not return and are not on their lists and closes by expressing regret for the lack of favorable news.
Figure 13, obtained from the Arolsen Archives, presents a letter concerning the transport lists which include Hugo and Else. It outlines that the listed individuals had their property confiscated as part of the deportation process, with the assets being expropriated and transferred to the Reich.
Paul Aschner, my great uncle, changed his name to Pablo and eventually remarried in Santiago, where he had three children. I will omit further details to respect the privacy of his relatives. Martin married my grandmother, Margot Rozansky, in 1942, and they remained married until his death in 1985. I will also taper off here to respect the privacy of my family. In coming years, I know that further details will be discovered. Until then, I thank Richard for the opportunity to share my research journey.
REFERENCES
Brook, R. (2020, September 13). POST 93: GUIDE TO THE MORMON CHURCH’S FAMILIAL MICROFILMS: USING THEM TO UNRAVEL MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER’S LINEAGE. bruckfamilyblog.com. https://bruckfamilyblog.com/category/neisse/
Note: This two-part post is written in collaboration with Melissa Ashner, the daughter of one of my childhood friends from New York. We examine evidence of her distant ancestors from Upper Silesia and Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] while Melissa makes the case for her lineal connection to one of the earliest known Aschners (with a “c”) to which we found reference. We also provide some historic context on the 1812 “Edict Concerning the Civil Status of the Jews in the Prussian State.”
In Post 146, I introduced readers to Mr. Kamil Kotas a gentleman formerly from the Racibórz District of Poland, recently living in Münster in the German state of Westphalia but now returning to Poland. Kamil directed me to files archived at the State Archives in Wrocław Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki with information on my family’s erstwhile enterprise in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel and sent me links to two articles he’s written about Ratibor. Translated, one is entitled “Preliminary list of Jews from Racibórz deported to death camps,” and the second is “Jews with Prussian citizenship in the Racibórz region in the years 1812-1815.”
Kamil’s article on Jews from Racibórz deported to death camps had previously been sent to me in 2019 by Paul Newerla, a friend and elder statesman and retired lawyer who has written extensively about the history of Ratibor and Silesia. In reexamining this article, I noticed a name I’d previously overlooked, that of a man named Salo Aschner, whose surname is misspelled as “Aschener.”
Salo was deported from Opole [German: Oppeln] to Theresienstadt aboard Transport XVIII/2 on the 20th of November 1942, and was among 50 Silesians deported to the concentration camp that day, 38 of whom came from Ratibor. Salo is identified as having been born on the 28th of December 1871 in Dziergowitz [today: Dziergowice, Poland] (also called Oderwalde) and having been a tailor that lived at Leobschützerstrasse 125 [today: ulica Głubczycka]. (Figures 1-2a-b) He is shown as having died on the 10th of April 1943. This information is much more detailed than the entry found for Salo Aschner in Yad Vashem which merely identifies him as a victim of the Holocaust who perished in Theresienstadt. (Figure 3)
The “Aschner” surname resonated because one of my friends growing up in New York was a playmate named Harold Ashner (Figure 5), surname spelled without a “c” since his family’s arrival in America. Kamil’s second article listed Jews from the Racibórz region who received Prussian citizenship between 1812 and 1815 and included an earlier generation Aschner, Joachim Marcus Aschner from Kranowitz [today: Krzanowice, Poland].
Having previously come across primary source documents listing Aschners buried in the former Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor or who had reserved tombs there (Figures 6a-c), I was not surprised to find them among the earliest citizens. I naturally assumed that both Salo Aschner and Joachim Marcus Aschner might be ancestors of my childhood friend from New York. I was more surprised to not find any Brucks among the Jews who received Prussian citizenship between 1812 and 1815, an observation I shared with Kamil. As I’ve explained in previous posts, the roster of students who attended Ratibor’s gymnasium, or high school, upon its opening in 1819 included Isaac Bruck and Samuel Bruck (Figures 7a-b), sons of my great-great-great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck indeterminately estimated to have been born in 1762 or 1770 and to have died in either 1832 or 1836.
My discussion with Kamil about his list of Jews from the Racibórz region granted Prussian citizenship led to two interesting discoveries. According to Kamil, the source of this information is a database accessible online through the Upper Silesian Jews House of Remembrance, a new branch of the Museum in Gliwice in Poland (https://skarbnica.muzeum.gliwice.pl/historia/ludzie/pochodzenie-nazwiska-gornoslaskie-rody). Kamil explained that the current Racibórz powiat, that’s to say the second-level unit of local government and administration in Poland, equivalent to a county, district, or prefecture, is different today than it was in the past. For this reason, my Bruck relatives who lived within the boundaries of the county or district as it was construed in past times were not included among the list of the earliest Jews to receive Prussian citizenship. When I broadened my search to the Jews living in all Upper Silesia who received Prussian citizenship, my earliest ancestor Jacob Nathan Bruck’s name showed up. (Figure 8)
The second discovery I made when searching the Museum of Gliwice’s database related to my friend’s family. Not only did I relocate Joachim Marcus Aschner’s name, but I also found the names of two other Aschners, namely, Benjamin Moses Aschner and Moses Abraham Aschner, both from the current Smolna district of Rybnik. It’s not entirely clear how they are related to Joachim, but the three are likely all brothers. (Figure 9)
Harold and I continue to be friends. (Figure 10) However, his daughter Melissa (Figure 11) is the one who has taken an interest in her family’s history. Periodically, we exchange information we’ve uncovered about her family. Upon discovering references to the Aschners from Ratibor and Upper Silesia (Figure 12), I shared this with Melissa to learn whether she recognized the names. In response, she sent me two original register pages (Figures 13a-b) from Rybnik (Figures 14a-b) with vital information on Joachim Marcus and Benjamin Moses Aschner.
At the top of one primary source document readers can vaguely make out the date September 1812, while further down under the far-right column for both individuals is written “Staatsbürger Brief vom 7. Mai 1814,” translated as “citizen letter dated the 7th of May 1814.” These are references to the rights and duties that Jews gained under the so-called Edict of Emancipation of 11 March 1812, rights that were evidently affirmed in writing. This so-called Judenedikt was promulgated by Friedrich Wilhelm III, King of Prussia and was more formally called the “Edict Concerning the Civil Status of the Jews in the Prussian State.”
The Emancipation Edict of 1812 was a decree by the Prussian government granting citizenship to all Prussian Jews. The edict was part of a series of constitutional, administrative, social, and economic reforms instituted in the early 19th century in Prussia. A large measure of civil equality was extended to Jews because of the edict’s enactment, including the abolition of serfdom, allowing them to become landowners, and take up municipal and university posts. In turn, the Jews were required to adopt fixed surnames, use German or another living language in keeping their commercial records, drawing contracts and legal declarations of intention, and use only German or Latin script for their signatures. The Jews were free to practice their religion and their cultural traditions were protected. While they were required to fulfill common citizenly duties, including military conscription, it did not give them the right of appointment in the civil service and army.
The edict was a significant milestone in the long and convoluted path of Jewish emancipation in Europe. It recognized all Jews already resident in Prussia as citizens of Prussia and rescinded all limitations on their rights of residence and commerce, all special taxes, and in general, all special laws relating to the Jews.
Fascinatingly, the slow process of Jewish emancipation in Prussia produced a distinction between the newly assimilated German Jews and the Jews of Eastern Europe, who were viewed as intellectually and morally inferior, and whose “Yiddish derided as a vulgar German dialect.” In popular literature and culture, such as “Fiddler on the Roof,” “so-called ‘ghetto stories’ offered a romantic yet patronizing view of East European Jewish life.” (2008 exhibit at the University of Chicago Library) Volume 2 of “From Absolutism to Napoleon, 1648-1815,” also speaks to this point: “Prussian Jewish policy since 1750 distinguished between the legally protected propertied Jews and their merely tolerated co-religionists. Complicating the Prussian situation were the numerous Polish Jews acquired as subjects through the partitions of Poland (1772-1795), which saw Prussia annex large portions of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The 1812 edict confined itself to the pre-1772 protected Jews. . .”
As mentioned above, the primary source document for Joachim Marcus Aschner and Benjamin Moses Aschner indicates they received a letter dated the 7th of May 1814 affirming their Prussian citizenship. Coincidentally, while examining an unrelated primary source document the co-author recently found for his great-great-grandaunt, Wilhelmine Friedenstein, née Bruck (1796-1864), the register noted that the letter she submitted to authorities in Sohrau [today: Zory, Poland] certifying her citizenship was identically dated the 7th of May 1814. (Figure 15) We can only assume that while the Edict of 1812 was promulgated on the 11th of March 1812, letters were sent out en masse to Prussian Jews two years later.
One final thing. In the seventh column identifying the place where Joachim and Moses lived is written Smolna. According to a contemporary map, this was located on the outskirts of Rybnik [today: Rybnik, Poland]. (Figure 16) Their residence on the outskirts of Rybnik may not have been accidental and may have reflected contemporary historic laws that limited the number of Jews who could live in the center of towns.
Germany History in Documents and Images. From Volume 2. Absolutism to Napoleon, 1648-1815. Frederick William III, King of Prussia, “Edict Concerning the Civil Status of the Jews in the Prussian State” (March 11, 1812). https://ghdi.ghi-dc.org/sub_document_s.cfm?document_id=3650
