Letter to Friedrich Engels, April 13, 1867

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MARX TO ENGELS

IN MANCHESTER

Hamburg, 13 April 1867

Dear FRED,

I arrived here at 12 o'clock noon yesterday. The boat left London on Wednesday at 8 o'clock in the morning. In which fact you see the whole history of the voyage. The most fearful weather and gales. Having been confined for so long, I felt as voraciously fit as 500 hogs. However, with ALL that riff-raff being sea-sick and falling about to left and right of us, it would all have become ennuyant in time, if a certain NUCLEUS had not held firm. It was a very 'mixed' nucleus, viz., a German ship's captain, who bore a marked resemblance to yourself in his face, but a small fellow, he also had a good deal of your humour and the same good-natured frivolous twinkling of the eyes; a London cattle-dealer, a true John Bull, BOVINE IN EVERY RESPECT; a German clockmaker from London, a nice fellow; a German from Texas; and, the real protagonist, a German who had been roaming around Eastern Peru for 15 years, an area that has only recently been geographically charted, where, amongst other things, human flesh is still consumed in no mean quantity. An eccentric, energetic and high-spirited fellow. He had a most valuable collection of stone axes with him, etc., which merited being discovered in the 'caves'. One female personage as hanger-on (the other ladies were all SEASICK and vomiting in the ladies CABIN), a toothless old hag with a refined Hanoverian accent, daughter of some primeval Hanoverian minister, von Baer or suchlike, she has now long been an improver of men, pietistic, concerned to raise the condition of the working class, acquainted with Jules Simon, full of spiritual radiance, with which she bored our BOVINE FRIEND to death. WELL! On Thursday evening, when the storm was at its worst, with all the tables and chairs adance, we were boozing en petit comité with that old hag of a woman lying on a couch, from which the movement of the ship—to divert her a trifle—occasionally tipped her onto the floor in the middle of the cabin. What was keeping this beautiful creature so spellbound in these inimical circumstances?

Why did she not withdraw to the ladies' chamber? Our savage German was regaling us with an enthusiastic account of the sexual depravities of savages. Voilà le charme for this delicate, pure, refined lady. One example: he was received in an Indian hut where the woman was giving birth that very day. The afterbirth is roasted and—supreme expression of hospitality—he is obliged to partake of the SWEETBREAD!

I called on Meissner immediately upon our arrival. Clerk tells me he won't be back before 3 o'clock (afternoon). I left my card and invited Mr Meissner to dine with me. He came but he had someone with him and wanted me to accompany him as his wife was expecting him. I declined but agreed that he should call on me at 7 o'clock in the evening. He mentioned en passant that Strohn was probably still in Hamburg. I therefore called on Strohn's brother. Our man had left for Paris THE VERY SAME MORNING. So, Meissner came round in the evening. A pleasant fellow, despite something Saxon about him, as his name suggests. After a brief parley, everything ALL RIGHT. Manuscript taken straight to his publishing house, where it was put in a SAFE. Printing will start IN A FEW DAYS and proceed apace. We then drank together, and he expressed his great 'delight' at making my esteemed acquaintance. He now wants that the book should appear in 3 volumes. In particular he is opposed to my compressing the final book (the historico-literary part) as I had intended. He said that from the publishing point of view and with the 'dull' mass of readers in mind, this was the part by which he was setting most store. I told him that, as far as that was concerned, I was his to command.

AT ALL EVENTS, in Meissner we have someone entirely at our disposal; he has great contempt for the whole pack of vulgar scribblers. I thought it prudent to delay presenting your LITTLE BILL. Always keep the pleasantest surprises till last.

And now adio, OLD BOY.

Your

K. Marx

BEST COMPLIMENTS TO MRS BURNS!