Letter to Friedrich Engels, March 30, 1865

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To Engels in Manchester

[London, 30 March 1865]

Dear Mr Engels,

Thank you so much for your letter and the newspaper cutting, which I now return. The worst thing about this dreadful business in which ‘Wilhelmchen’ has once more involved yourself and Moor is that I have no idea where Moor is at present. I have heard nothing from him and don’t know whether he is in Germany or Holland. I have taken pot luck in sending all the filth from the newspapers after him. It is almost impossible to take up the cudgels in the newspapers with a creature like Becker, but facts must be corrected, on account of the credulous Straubingers. The most ridiculous and most vexing part of the affair is to have people like Mr Reusche testifying that ‘Lassalle also spoke of Marx with respect’. Lassalle, who copied everything from my husband, even his mistakes, who had been his friend and disciple for 15 years — he is cited as also having spoken of him with respect. And this gracious testimonial is being purveyed by people who only became friends of Lassalle in the last 2 years, at a time when he was already fully committed to that wrong path, which was taking him into Bismarck’s camp,” into the ministry, like friend Bucher, or to the ultimate retraite, to Italy. And, of course, Lassalle should be rescued for these ‘freedom-fighters’ who have received their reward in his will! Yet these social riff-raff are after all only following their great agitator. Like his lord and master, incidentally, Mr Reusche is constantly misappropriating things of my husband’s, forever reproducing every witticism from Herr Vogt, just as in that last opus he himself borrowed from Karl the grotesque clown, who has nothing behind him but his own shadow’ (a phrase aimed at Karl Blind). The condescending manner in which this triumvirate deigns to allow Moor its protection, is the most vexing thing of all. Incidentally, Lassalle’s respect for the aging Ph. Becker was also of recent date. As far back as August 1862 he believed him to be a paid agent, though in whose hire I do not know, and refused to have anything to do with him. He likewise declared to me in one of his outbursts of shouting, when his voice always went out of tune, that Moses in Paris was a completely useless muddlehead with whom he desired no truck. I defended that Plonplonist as an honest Confusionarius. I live from day to day in the hope that I shall have news of Carel; this uncertainty causes me more bother than all the other troubles.

We are all well here and send you our cordial greetings.

Yours
Jenny Marx