THE PORTRAIT OF THE CAPTAIN
A voyage of discovery ends in a murder.
The familiar glow of my laptop screen beckoned from the kitchen table in our Dranouter holiday home. Another evening unwinding after a long-day of battlefield touring by scrolling through the offers of online auction platforms and dealers, chasing that tantalising flicker of a great story in a simple object like a medal, a time worn photo, or something similar. This is my escape, my one real hobby; I hunt military antiques with story potential. As usual, I typed in the familiar search terms, not expecting much from this particular dealer's website when, amidst the assortment of mostly decorative antiques, a face emerged. "Portrait of a nobleman, 1780, probably French". This one intrigued me, something wasn't quite right. The powdered wig, yes, clearly 18th century, but distinctly earlier than 1780. A white and blue uniform, Germanic and surely the man wasn’t French - Saxon maybe? One of the catholic states? On the officer’s gorget two cyphers, ‘G’ and ‘FA’ under an electoral crown. The voice in my head still whispered ‘Saxony’. Desperately, I scanned my meagre assortment of books on 18th century uniforms. Years of downloading and scanning have given me access to a respectable cloud-based library of reference books, yet nobleman’s uniform still evaded me. Frustration mounted.
Back home in Germany I decided to get some help on board and sent a photo of the portrait to a number of colleagues and friends. One of them was Dr. Jan Szkudliński, a Polish historian who I had met in Brussels a few years earlier. And he did not disappoint. A reply pinged back telling me that he had passed my query to some colleagues in the Royal Castle Museum in Warsaw, who were used to working with 18th century portraits and insignia. Two days later the Polish connection had indeed found an answer: “this looks similar” said a brief message with a link on which I clicked. Suddenly, my breath caught and my heart briefly missed a beat or two. There he was – my mystery nobleman! Not just the face, but and entire painting mirroring the one advertised in Bristol. The same, and not quite the same.
The following weeks whizzed by in a nerdy blur of anticipation, until finally, there I was, back in the UK, hurtling down the M4 towards Bristol with my girlfriend Dawn. Here comes the moment where I have to remark that, in a past life, I must have done something right, because I somehow landed a girlfriend who not only tolerates my quirks, but celebrates and supports them enthusiastically.
The antiques warehouse was less glamorous than I thought – seemingly catering more to interior designers and resellers looking for bulk antique purchases than to private collectors – yet inside the first storage unit, leaning against an 18th century gobelin and surrounded by an eclectic mix of decorative antiques, there he was! By now I knew he was painted around 1738. I knew the intertwined crests of the houses he served. But best of all, I knew his name. Money exchanged hands, the noble officer was carefully wrapped to ride back with us, now a part of the family, his full story still waiting to be unlocked.
THE HOUSE OF SCHWARZBURG AND THE ‘MECKLENBURG-REGIMENT’
The small principalities of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and Schwarzburg-Sondershausen were located in the central German region of Thuringia. Descendants of an ancient comital dynasty, the House of Schwarzburg, these small states held positions within the fabric of the Holy Roman Empire, the enormous and highly complex patchwork of ‘German’ territories, ranging from mighty kingdoms to diminutive principalities, free cities, and ecclesiastical lordships. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, born out of the 16th-century partition of the County of Schwarzburg, exemplify the political minutiae that characterised the German lands. Despite their modest size, they enjoyed princely status within the Empire, with a degree of autonomy in matters of local government and law. However, such independence rested precariously upon their relationship with larger powers and their willingness and obligation to participate in the affairs of the Empire, including its wars. As such the two principalities were required to raise troops in both the Wars of the Spanish and Polish Succession.
In April 1734 however, the Kaiser asked the two houses of Schwarzburg to raise another regiment of infantry against payment. It was to support the Imperial administration in Mecklenburg-Schwerin as a force of ‘neutrality and execution’, since the ruler there, Duke Karl Leopold, had been removed from office by a judgement of the Imperial Court because of his breaches of the law against the status groups of his realm and his absolutist claims to power. During this so-called Imperial Execution, between 1717 and 1727, occupying troops from a whole series of states stood in Mecklenburg-Schwerin, while the government there was taken over by the British King George I (as Elector of Brunswick-Lüneburg) and the King in Prussia as executors. When the former died on 11 June 1727, the Reichsexekution was lifted. However, while the Kaiser could declare an Imperial Execution, he lacked the power and the means to remove the foreign forces from Mecklenburg-Schwerin, as the King of Great Britain and the King in Prussia were pressing for payment of the costs that had incurred as a result. As a settlement of the conflict initially failed, Duke Karl Leopold was finally deposed by the Imperial Court Council in Vienna in 1733 in favour of his brother Christian Ludwig II. The old Duke Karl Leopold rejected every compromise proposed by Kaiser Karl VI. In 1733, the embittered man failed in an attempt to regain control of Mecklenburg-Schwerin with the help of a levy of citizens and peasants. To prevent further ventures of this kind, the Emperor continued to send foreign forces to Mecklenburg.
The two Schwarzburg principalities now had to raise a regiment totalling 1200 men, in two battalions of 600 men each, as an 'execution force' to place at the disposal of Duke Christian Ludwig II and to ensure compliance with the Emperor's measures through their presence. Mecklenburg-Schwerin had to bear the costs, so the Schwarzburg state treasury remained unencumbered. However, as the principalities had not long before equipped and provided an imperial contingent for the War of the Polish Succession, the raising and especially the equipping of the new force led to considerable problems. The regimental commander, an old campaigner by the name of Johann Adolph von Diepenbrock (1675-1750), was provided by Schwarzburg-Sondershausen. Each of the 12 companies of 120 men consisted of: Three officers (Hauptmann, Leutnant and Fähnrich), 9 NCOs, 4 musicians, and 79 enlisted men. While most of the men were recruits from other German states, some were recruited within principalities.
While Schwarzburg uniform had traditionally been made in Franconian red and white, the new regiment was given white tunics with cobalt blue facings and cuffs, waistcoats of the same colour, buttons of gilt metal and hats decorated to match. The officers' white tunics were trimmed around the blue facings and cuffs with a patterned but smooth-edged gold braid about 4 centimetres wide, on which 10 buttons were attached to each of the facings and three to each of the cuffs. The waistcoats were also trimmed with such gold braid, but the Captains wore two gold braids side by side. All officers also wore a sash woven from gold thread and black silk, worn over the right shoulder, and a brass ring gorget bearing a silver crown of the Electorate of Saxony with two cartouches bearing the ciphers of both rulers: 'G' for Prince Günther I of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (1678-1740) and a 'FA' for Prince Friedrich Anton of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1692-1744).
THE OFFICER’S GALLERY
Located at the foothills of Tecklenburg, one of the most beautiful half-timbered towns in the Münsterland region of Germany, the moated castle Haus Marck has for centuries been the family seat of the Lords of Diepenbrock. Idyllically nestled in a valley meadow and surrounded by its moat, the manor house is an insider tip worth seeing for explorers of the Tecklenburg region. Unrecognised and forgotten by most, the castle's great hall, now an event location for weddings and celebrations, still houses one of the few almost complete officers' galleries from the 18th century. Created by several painters and commissioned by Johann Adolph von Diepenbrock as the regiment’s commanding officer, the gallery consists of life-size bust portraits of almost all (44) officers of the regiment, strictly organised by company and rank. When exactly and where these portraits were created is unknown. The evidence suggests they were painted in Mecklenburg over a longer period of time, probably between 1737 and about 1740. It is likely that the paintings were hung to represent the regimental hierarchy at about 1738-1739, and that the names and ranks were added slightly later. What is most important however is that among the officers of 3rd Company, commanded by Major Wilhelm von Uhder1, we find the portrait which made my heart stop briefly when I first followed the trail set out by my colleagues in Poland: That of Capitain-Lieutenant Georg Christoph von Görschen
A TALE OF TWO PAINTINGS
So there are two almost identical paintings of the man. Both about the same size, although the one in Haus Marck is slightly smaller, having been reduced in size during 'restoration' work in the 1930s. So why are there two? Are they by the same artist and were they painted at the same time? The simple answer is: I don't know!
Having had an art historian look at both paintings, it seems clear that the one hanging in Haus Marck was painted by a different artist and is less 'refined' than the one acquired in Bristol. Our theory so far is that the original painting was copied and the copy then sent to Haus Marck. Or perhaps a sketch of the original was sent there and copied by a local painter in Tecklenburg. We simply do not know. However, it doesn't seem unlikely that von Görschen commissioned a portrait for himself. Such portraits of officers were common and popular at the time, and many artists, now nameless, seem to have made a living from supplying them, mostly unsigned. It would certainly have been affordable, even for a chronically cash-strapped officer, to have one made.
A FAMILY FROM AULIGK
Between the years 1640 and 1929, the village of Auligk, or more precisely the manor 'Auligk untern Theils', was the seat of a branch of the Central German noble family of von Görschen. Auligk itself is a district of the town of Groitzsch in the Borna district of Leipzig, and Unterauligk belonged to the Saxon Electoral or Royal Saxon Office of Pegau. Georg Christoph von Görschen was born there in 1707 into an old noble family, which often lacked the most basic necessities. When Georg Christoph's father Hans-Wolf died in 1713, there arose an extremely complex dispute between the individual cousin lines of the von Görschen family on their respective seats over the fiefs left to them, which were of vital importance for the survival of the individual families. The entire region suffered great economic hardship as a result of failed harvests, the effects of war and epidemics and as a result, the fiefs of the von Görschen family were repeatedly placed under official receivership. The family's continued ownership of their Auligk estate was thus repeatedly at stake. As a result of the ongoing legal disputes in the early 1730s, Georg Christoph had to fight to be recognised as a jointly entitled heir together with his half-brother, who had been awarded the manor in 1718. In the course of the proceedings that became more and more difficult, as he had in the meantime entered Schwarzburg service as an officer, he had paid a great deal of money for his equipment and was also waiting daily for orders to be transferred with his regiment to Mecklenburg. As a result, he was unable to attend official appointments for the feudal investiture and was unable to submit the necessary documents, for which reason he was fined 300 guilders for the accusation of felony. The heavily indebted estate would ultimately fall to Georg Christoph after the death of his brother in 1741. By which time he, together with his wife and children, had been living in rented accommodation in ‘occupied’ Mecklenburg since 1734.
MECKLENBURG TO HOLLAND
The regiment marched off to Mecklenburg in July 1737 and was distributed into quarters in various towns and villages. 14 years would pass before it would leave Mecklenburg again. Officers and men quickly settled in. The history of the execution troops in Mecklenburg is poorly documented, but their stay there was not without its dangers. Organised violence against night patrols and brawls in pubs and on the streets were not uncommon as many of the common people were loyal to their old duke. In Guestrow, Georg Christoph and his wife had found a new home. Seven children, four boys and three girls would be born there.
After the death of Duke Karl Leopold of Mecklenburg-Schwerin the regiment's task had also become obsolete. At the same time, however, the Dutch States General were looking for more troops in their war against France, although they were already supported by Great Britain and had Bavarian, Saxon-Gothaean, Darmstadt, Wuerzburg, Baden-Durlach, Hanoverian and Brunswick regiments in their service. As the houses of Schwarzburg had been bound to them by an alliance treaty since 1717, the Dutch turned to them with a request to 'rent’ the forces that had been released. As this meant that all the costs for the regiment’s upkeep would be paid for by the new masters, the offer was duly accepted.
The regiment arrived in Holland in mid-April 1748, greatly reduced by desertion and in disastrous condition. The uniforms - blue since the end of 1746 - were badly worn, the muskets almost unusable. The weather was extremely bad, the accommodation was poor and supplies were extremely overpriced. The mood of the force was at an all-time low. When the regiment moved to Waalwijk in September 1748, David Morier was painting one man from each of the troop units there, including two grenadiers from the two Schwarzburg battalions. At this time, Captain-Lieutenant Georg Christoph von Görschen, whose family had remained behind in Mecklenburg and who was second in command of 1st Company, had only three months left to live.
What followed is superbly documented in regimental records stored in the Rudolstadt State Archives in the Heidecksburg Palace and a number of local and regional archives in the Netherlands.
MURDER
On the evening of 17 December 1748, Lieutenant Heinrich von Raschau was in a rage. We can only guess why. Perhaps he was drunk, perhaps like so many other officers and soldiers in the regiment he was dissatisfied and hopeless, alone, far away from his family in Saxony. Forgotten and poorly supplied in Diessen, a godforsaken nest west of Eindhoven in Holland. He was billeted in a farm called t'Laar as a boarder of the Baijens family. Exactly who was in the house that evening is unknown, but the 50 year old landlord Joseph Baijens and his 23 year old daughter Maria Catharina were awake and present. During an interrogation by the Diessen Aldermen's Court, both were later to provide information about the incidents that evening.
Lieutenant Heinrich von Raschau had only recently been promoted to Lieutenant as the regiment's eldest ensign. He was not deemed to have any special qualifications for his new post, but he had recently married the daughter of an important official, for whom the promotion of his son-in-law was probably a favour. That evening, Raschau wanted tea, hot tea, and had apparently made this known, because on this momentous evening, he and his Dutch hosts were in the kitchen of the house where Maria Catharina had just put the kettle over the fire.
What happened next is not exactly clear. However, the Schwarzburg officer suddenly began to knock Joseph Baijens' cap and wig off his head several times. From then on, the situation escalated quickly, perhaps fuelled by Baijens' protests. Raschau did not comply with the repeated requests to stop his attacks and instead drew his sword. Catharina, who tried to hold him back, was knocked over and Raschau began to strike Joseph Baijens repeatedly with the flat of his sword. He struck the defenceless farmer harder and harder, while Catharina screamed at her father to run away. Having escaped through the front door, Baijens ran through the darkness to the only man he could hope to get help from, Raschau's direct superior, Georg Christoph von Görschen. He banged frantically on the door of the house where the officer had taken lodgings and, having gained entry, breathlessly explained to the Captain that von Raschau was 'behaving as if wild' in his house. Von Görschen armed himself and immediately hurried to the Bajens' house together with two of his Musketeers.
The statement of Catharina Baijens seems to prove that von Görschen on arrival first sought dialogue with von Raschau. He and his Lieutenant repeatedly left the kitchen to talk to each other and returned several times. We do not know what they discussed. What we do know, however, is that von Görschen and Raschau were related. It is difficult to say how close, but over the centuries the two families had intermarried several times, and the fief on which Georg Christoph was born, and of which he was now lord, had belonged to a branch of the Raschau family some 100 years earlier. It is not wrong to say that the two were distant cousins. Whether this contributed in any way to what was to happen next we also do not know. And so, von Görschen all of a sudden returns to the kitchen alone, but shortly afterwards Rauschau follows him with a 'white blade', i.e. a drawn sword, in an attempt to attack him. A musketeer named Zech steps between the raging lieutenant and his master. Raschau stabs Zech in the lower abdomen, sending the musketeer to the ground. With that, the path to von Görschen is clear and in the ensuing fight, Raschau runs his Captain 'through and through', who collapses, fatally wounded, and dies a few minutes later in a large pool of blood.
More than an hour later, a messenger knocks on the door of Major von Uhder's lodgings, who is staying with his staff in the small town of Hilvarenbeek. After the messenger has briefly described the events in Diessen, Uhde immediately makes his way there. In the darkness and with the bad roads, it takes him another hour to arrive at the scene of the crime. There he finds Georg Christoph von Görschen dead and the musketeer Zech seriously wounded. The latter just manages to tell the Major what has happened before he too dies. Raschau has now been arrested. It is remarkable that no statement from him can be found in the very extensive correspondence. The regimental records are silent about the reasons for the strange quarrel. However, Raschau is then quickly and unceremoniously sentenced to death. For this brief permission is obtained from Schwarzburg from the Prince of Orange, who actually owns the regiment at this time.
What follows is briefly recounted. In January 1749 Georg Christoph von Görschen was laid to rest in the church of Sint-Petrus'-Banden in Hilvarenbeek. He rests there, in an unmarked space, to this day. The Musketeer Zech was buried more unceremoniously in an unmarked grave in the church grounds. After a few weeks in prison, Raschau dies of pneumonia on the very day of his planned execution. Coincidence? Who can say. Many hundreds of miles away, his wife learns of the bloody deed from a news sheet. She suffers a nervous breakdown and has from then on to be watched day and night to prevent a suicide.
Georg Christoph von Görschen's wife and their seven children are left almost penniless in Mecklenburg. In desperation, she turns to the Prince of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, asking him to at least send her the outstanding wages of her husband, as otherwise she would not even be able to travel with her children to her family's home. Her husband, however, was heavily in debt, even to one of his Feldwebels, and also owed the regiment a large sum in repayment. There is no money for the suffering widow. However, she will return home, remarry and raise her children successfully. And there, the family would perhaps often have stood remembering and reminiscing in front of a painting which is now hanging in Dawn’s living room, the portrait of a the beloved husband and father, the portrait of the Captain.
My sincere gratitude to Dr. Immanuel Voigt, Dr. Jan Szkudliński and Ton de Jong for lending a hand to puzzle this together.
Archives: State Archive Rudolstadt, Regional Archive Tilburg.
Also commander of the Rudolstadt Batallion.
What a truly fascinating story. Well done on following up on the portrait you saw and since purchased. I wonder how many people have looked at it and never given it a second thought?
Fascinating article Rob…..thank you for posting it