Caroline Fredericke’s willingness to fight for her rights, even to challenge a university professor, must have had an enormous impact on Zakrzewska, who would fight her own battles with government o≈cials when she assumed the position of head midwife at the Charité later in the decade. Zakrzewska does not, however, discuss this specific incident in her autobiography, other than to write approvingly of the steps the government took in the nineteenth century to regulate, and thus to improve, the training and status of the midwife.≥∏ However critical she may have been of the Prussian state, she must have recognized that her mother had benefited from the protection the government provided through the law, protection that worked in two directions by staving o√ competition both from above and from below. Indeed, Zakrzewska inherited from her mother not only a willingness to challenge authority but also an arrogance toward those who acquired their knowledge through uno≈cial channels and thus lacked the imprimatur of the state (or whatever body had the authority to grant such privileges). Throughout her life, she would look favorably upon the o≈cial signs and symbols that distinguished the so-called qualified from the so-
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called unqualified, whether they came in the form of university degrees, government licensing, or membership in exclusive organizations. Her own battle against unorthodox physicians, which she waged with great determination in the 1870s and 1880s, must be understood in this light.≥π
Caroline Fredericke’s victory against Professor Busch may have brought her satisfaction, but her family’s financial situation did not improve, and in some ways it worsened. The civilian position her husband had finally landed in 1837
had actually come with a reduction in salary from thirty to twenty-five taler a month. The only reason the Zakrzewskis had been able to survive this cut in pay was that Martin Ludwig had been receiving a small disability pension from the military of eight taler per month. But one year after his promotion the military informed him that he would need to give up his pension, since its o≈cial policy was to terminate a veteran’s pension six months after he began earning a fixed income.≥∫ Although Zakrzewski requested repeatedly that an exception be made, the War Ministry not only refused but also insisted that he refund the money he had drawn in the interim. Small wonder that Caroline Fredericke’s assignment to one of the poorest neighborhoods in Berlin made the Zakrzewskis feel desperate. By the summer of 1841, Martin Ludwig was writing impassioned letters to the state minister, pleading for any help at all—a raise, a loan, or a gift—just anything to help him gain control over his skyrocketing debts. Drawing as much attention as he could to the threat these financial burdens posed to his lifestyle, he complained bitterly that his living standard could no longer be considered even that of a ‘‘modest bourgeois [Bürger] but rather of a wage laborer.’’≥Ω
There is no reason to doubt the sincerity of Zakrzewski’s laments, but we also need to bear in mind that he was rehearsing a script that he suspected would fall on sympathetic ears. Government ministers were themselves interested in ensuring that members of the civil service maintain a certain image, for it reflected well on the government as a whole. Martin Ludwig was speaking the correct language, emphasizing their shared values and deploring his inability to create a life for himself and his family that would bestow honor on the government as well. Thus, throughout the years he received small gifts of twenty-five to thirty taler or advances on his salary. Moreover, the combination of his connections and his complaints landed him a promotion in August 1841 to secretary in the Privy Chancellery of the Ministry of Culture at an annual salary of five hundred taler. This marked a turning point in the Zakrzewski household, and for at least a few years the family was able to breathe more easily. By the fall of 1842, Martin
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Ludwig was thanking the state minister for his ‘‘current contentedness, health, honor and domestic happiness.’’∂≠
It is significant that this promotion did not result in Caroline Fredericke’s remaining at home with her children, not even following the birth of their sixth child, Rosalia, in 1844 or the birth of their seventh (a boy, who does not seem to have survived) in 1847. Although we do not know for certain why she continued to work, chances are once again that this was not by choice. Following her last pregnancy, Caroline Fredericke had become ill, apparently su√ering from dropsy (a condition similar to edema), but she had been able to remain at home only three weeks before the family’s financial situation required that she return to her midwifery practice. The Zakrzewskis seemed, in fact, to be trapped between two incompatible desires for their family. While they yearned to maintain a bourgeois lifestyle, they showed no inclination to limit their family size, as other members of this social group had begun to do. Forced to choose between maintaining separate spheres, which would mean a decline in their standard of living, and blurring the separation between public and private, which would allow them to pay for a decent apartment and a good education for their children, the Zakrzewskis chose the latter.∂∞
Indeed, much of the reason Caroline Fredericke worked was to allow the Zakrzewskis to send their children to better schools.∂≤ Had they been willing for their children to receive a basic education, their expenses would have been considerably lower. But the reformed Prussian school system, despite its goal of providing a universal national system of education, was not classless, and the Zakrzewskis did not wish to see their children follow the path of the vast majority, who attended the elementary schools until only the age of thirteen or fourteen. After this they either entered the workforce, sought an apprenticeship, or pursued some form of technical training. Girls from a more privileged background tended to leave the Volkschule after three or four years (around the age of eight) in order to attend private ladies’ seminaries, which were designed primarily to prepare girls for running a household. This is where the Zakrzewskis sent their daughters, starting with Marie.∂≥
For their son, Herman, the Zakrzewskis had other options. He could either go to one of the reformed classical secondary schools, where he would follow a curriculum that emphasized Latin, Greek, and the classics, or he could attend one of the newly founded nonclassical secondary schools ( höhere Bürgerschulen or Realschulen), which focused on the so-called Realwissenschaften—subjects such as mathematics, natural science, history, and the modern languages, which, in
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certain German educational circles, had come to count as ‘‘modern.’’∂∂ They chose the latter and in doing so positioned themselves, whether intentionally or not, on one side of a fierce pedagogical battle that was waging at the time between defenders of a classical education and those who believed Latin and Greek were becoming increasingly anachronistic in a world slowly dominated by railroads, steamships, and power-driven mills. The Zakrzewskis’ choice thus signaled their attraction to a particular vision of progress, and it was one that embraced rather than feared the social and economic changes that had been slowly transforming the German landscape over the previous few decades.∂∑
Zakrzewska would later announce her own embrace of this vision by declaring
‘‘history, geography and arithmetic’’ to be her ‘‘favorite studies,’’ even though it is doubtful that she received much introduction to any of these subjects in the all-girls’ seminary she attended.∂∏
With five school-age children at home in the mid-1840s, the Zakrzewskis’
decision to give their children a more privileged education was costing them about seventy-five taler per year.∂π Marie and Anna had, moreover, reached the age at which they needed to be confirmed in the church, and their father estimated that between the purchase of clothing, the fee to the priest, and other expenses, this would run one hundred taler. (Marie would later claim that her parents were ‘‘Rationalists’’ and did not belong to any church, but at the very least her parents understood the need to
keep up appearances.)∂∫ By 1847,
whatever relief the family had felt five years earlier was no longer palpable. ‘‘I’m a poor man,’’ Zakrzewski wrote the state minister; ‘‘I am in debt to the grocer, the baker, the doctor and the midwife.’’∂Ω In addition, that spring Marie began to su√er from rheumatism, an illness that worsened as the year progressed and was expensive to treat. All of this must have been particularly frightening to Martin Ludwig, whose own health was fragile enough that he frequently missed work. Indeed, ever since his dismissal from the military he had su√ered from terrible ‘‘catarrhs’’ and ‘‘nerve fevers’’ that kept him home for weeks and sometimes months at a time.∑≠
Zakrzewski’s fears and frustrations appear to have found a brief outlet, however, for in the early months of 1848 political protests began taking place all over Europe, and he ended up getting involved. The protesters, a mixed group that included peasant farmers, artisans, factory workers, professors, lawyers, and civil servants, sported a diverse array of grievances: some were cold and hungry; others wished to limit the power of the nobility and the king through the establishment of a constitutional monarchy; yet others wanted nothing less than
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the creation of a democratic republic. These di√erences would eventually render the reform movement ine√ectual, but in the early months of the revolution this was not yet evident.∑∞ It certainly was not clear on 18 March, when Berliners put flowers in their hats and took to the streets to celebrate King Frederick William IV’s stated willingness to work with reformers to draft a constitution for the state of Prussia. Events soon took a tragic turn, however, when the troops who were guarding the king’s palace reacted nervously to the ever growing crowd and fired some shots, killing a number of civilians. The street battles that ensued were not subdued until the king agreed to put a liberal ministry in place. For the next six months it seemed to many that true change was going to take place.∑≤
Given Zakrzewska’s later insistence that her father had been persecuted by the Prussian government, his involvement in the revolutionary events of 1848 is worthy of note. Nevertheless, the exact nature of his participation is di≈cult to pin down. The government later investigated whether he had participated in the events on 18 March, but it was unable to come to any conclusion. In contrast, there is no question that he joined, at least briefly, the people’s militia, which was founded in the aftermath of the shootings to assume many of the responsibilities previously held by the military troops. Moreover, in mid-May, Martin Ludwig’s name was put forth as the democratic party’s candidate in elections for a platoon commander in the militia.∑≥ He lost the election, but this indicates a certain level of engagement on his part with left-wing politics. The democratic unions that were cropping up all over Germany in the late spring of 1848 were taking form because of a growing disillusionment among their members with the moderate course of political reform. They feared a loss of their dream to create a radical democracy based on a constitution that would guarantee rights and representation to all (at least, to all men).∑∂
The democrats’ wishes, however, were not heeded. Indeed, by the fall of 1848, the king was already able to reinstate a decidedly conservative ministry.
Although he accepted a constitution in December, he managed by the following spring to disregard any e√orts at universal su√rage. Instead, he instituted the famous Three Class su√rage system, which all but guaranteed that power would remain unevenly distributed, with the lion’s share resting in the hands of the top 5 percent of the electorate.∑∑ Then, in the early spring of 1850, the government began its investigations into the political activities of its subjects.
Zakrzewski did not escape scrutiny. An ‘‘extract’’ submitted to the ministry and placed in his personnel file cited three events that linked him to the democratic
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party: he was the party’s candidate during the elections for a local militia; he attended a ball in February 1850 put on by the democratic party; and he was present on the streets of Berlin on 18 March ‘‘with a flower in his hat,’’ a charge, as previously noted, that was eventually dropped. ∑∏
At first, Zakrzewski denied everything, but he ultimately chose a di√erent strategy that emphasized both his ignorance and his loyalty. He claimed, for example, that he had been unaware of the political nature of the ball he had attended. As for the elections, he contended that he had been so taken by surprise when his name had been put forth as the democratic party’s delegate to the elections for a people’s militia that he had not thought to recuse himself. But he insisted that although he had expressed his pleasure at being nominated and had acknowledged that he was ‘‘a friend of the people,’’ he had added: ‘‘But I obey, honor and love the King just as much, and only in this sense will I cast my vote.’’∑π
Zakrzewski’s entire response reads like a prepared script, as well it may have been. The fact that he had begun the day by denying everything only to recant later on and confess his mistakes suggests that he may have received some coaching. If so, odds are that the advice came from von Ladenberg, who had been ‘‘protecting’’ Zakrzewski for more than a decade and who had assumed the position of minister of culture in 1848.∑∫ Why Zakrzewski changed his tune is not, however, entirely clear. More than likely, he had grown fearful that he might lose his position in the civil service, but he may also have become critical of the revolutionary uprisings as they became increasingly radical. If it was the latter, he would not have been alone. A significant number of dissatisfied civil servants had taken to the streets in the early days of the revolution, but as the revolution came to be marked by more popular and spontaneous expressions of violence, and as the focus of these violent outbreaks came to rest more on eradicating social and economic misery than on establishing a constitutional democracy, many among the middle class pulled back.∑Ω Whether this describes
Zakrzewski is unknown, but whatever his motivations, it turned out to be a smart move to cast his actions as mistakes. One day after submitting his confession, he was reprimanded and forgiven. The government o≈cial who presided over the case seemed to be following his own script when he opened his report by accepting Zakrzewski’s ‘‘pronounced assurances of [his] true and patriotic sentiments.’’ Still, he held Zakrzewski responsible for the unfortunate events that followed, expressing his disbelief that anyone could have been fully ignorant of the political nature of the events that occurred in the city in the
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spring of 1848 and, consequently, blaming Zakrzewski for giving ‘‘the appearance of being in agreement with the views of [the democratic] party.’’ Appearances, in other words, mattered, although certainly not as much as actions.
For his transgressions, Zakrzewski was required to approve and sign the report, which included a promise that in the future ‘‘he would everywhere, including outside of his o≈ce, prove himself to be a true servant of his King.’’∏≠
In her autobiographical sketch, Zakrzewska did not directly address her father’s interrogation by the police in June 1850. Her comments were of a more general nature and simply characterized him as someone who ‘‘would not consent to endure wrong and imposition.’’∏∞ She also claimed that he, ‘‘who held liberal opinions and was of an impetuous temperament, manifested some revolutionary tendencies, which drew upon him the displeasure of the government; and caused his dismissal, with a very small pension, from his position as military o≈cer. This involved us in great pecuniary di≈culties; for our family was large, and my father’s income too small to supply the most necessary wants; while to obtain other occupation was for the time out of the question.’’∏≤
In this passage Zakrzewska appears to be drawing on several di√erent events, collapsing them into one story as though they had occurred at the same time and creating, as a result, an inaccurat
e picture. We have, for example, already seen that her father was never dismissed from the military; nor was he ever unemployed. Instead, he had remained in the military until he had been guaranteed a civilian position. Indeed, a military attest, placed in his file at the time of his departure, stated that he had ‘‘conducted himself in an exemplary fashion’’ throughout his service. ∏≥ It is true that he lost his military pension, but that was because of a government ruling that canceled the pension once a person’s salary exceeded a specified amount, not because of any political persecution.
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