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Special pages :
Letter to Wilhelm Liebknecht, May 26, 1872
| Author(s) | Jenny von Westphalen |
|---|---|
| Written | 26 May 1872 |
Published in English for the first time in Marx-Engels Collected Works, Volume 44
JENNY MARX TO WILHELM LIEBKNECHT
IN LEIPZIG
[London,] Sunday, 26 May 1872
My dear LIBRARY,[1]
Engels has taken upon himself the task of informing you about the Eccarius affair[2] and of putting you in the picture with regard to all the despicable infamies of which I cannot think without indignation and which I might not be calm and dispassionate enough to recount to you myself. For my part, I am happy to seize the opportunity to thank you for the confidence you have so genuinely retained in your old and undoubtedly sorely tried friend, and to tell you of the intense sympathy and concern with which I have thought of you and your dear wife[3] in these difficult, troubled times. I have often longed to tell you how much I admired the fortitude, tact and skill which you have displayed in these trying circumstances. And to be quite frank, my thoughts have lingered even more with your wife than with you. In all these struggles we women have the harder part to bear, because it is the lesser one. A man draws strength from his struggle with the world outside, and is invigorated by the sight of the enemy, be their number legion. We remain sitting at home, darning socks. That does nothing to dispel our fears and the gnawing day-to-day petty worries slowly but surely sap our spirit. I can say this from over 30 years' experience, and can certainly claim that I am not one to lose heart easily. Now I have grown too old to hope for much and the recent terrible events[4] have completely shattered my peace of mind. I fear that we ourselves, we old ones will not live to experience much good any more and my only hope is that our children will have an easier time of it. You cannot imagine what we have had to endure here in London since the fall of the Commune. All the nameless misery, the suffering without end! And on top of that, the almost unbearable work on behalf of the International. As long as Moor had all the work and just managed, thanks to his diplomacy and tactical skill, to keep the various unruly elements together in the face of the world and the cohorts of enemies, as long as he succeeded in sparing the Association RIDICULE, inspired the trembling crew with fear and terror, attended no Congress and never claimed the limelight, had all the labour and none of the credit—as long as that was the case, the rabble remained silent. But now that his enemies have dragged him into the light of day, have put his name in the forefront of attention, the whole pack have joined forces, and police and democrats alike all bay the same refrain about his 'despotic nature, his craving for authority and his ambition'! How much better it would have been, and how much happier he would be, if he had just gone on working quietly and developed the theory of struggle for those in the fight. But he has no peace by day or by night.
And what deprivation, what gêne[5] in our private lives! And at the very time when our girls need our help.
So you have heard of Jenny's engagement. Longuet is a very gifted man and he is good, honest and decent, and the harmony of opinions and convictions between the young couple is certainly a guarantee of their future happiness. On the other hand, I cannot contemplate their union without great uneasiness and would really have preferred it if Jenny's choice had fallen (FOR A CHANGE) on an Englishman or a German, instead of a Frenchman, who of course possesses all the charming qualities of his nation, but is not free of their foibles and inadequacies. At present, he is tutoring in Oxford, in the hope of making better contacts. But you know yourself how precarious private tutoring can be, and I cannot help being afraid that, as a political woman, Jenny will be exposed to all the anxieties and torments inseparable from it. All of this entre nous. I know that you will keep it to yourself. It was an immeasurable relief to be able to open my heart to an old loyal friend and reveal my silent worries. I feel easier after these words and hope that you will not be angry with me for 'striking such a sad note' instead of writing cheerful letters to you and your dear wife. We heard from Laura yesterday. Her little boy,[6] who is now 3½ years old and the only survivor of her three children, had been lying sick with cholera for 9 months and was so emaciated that his poor parents had given him up for lost. Laura, in a strange land,[7] whose language she did not know, had spent the whole 9 months at his bedside! I need say no more. The child is now somewhat better and if he recovers still further and is able to travel, the Lafargues intend to come here in August. Tussy is well and in good cheer and a politician FROM TOP TO BOTTOM! Lenchen[8] is her old self. The smell of the SUNDAY ROASTBEEF is just coming in from the kitchen and since the tablecloth is pushing me away from the desk, I shall bid you an affectionate farewell.
Give your dear children a thousand kisses from their old friend, especially my dear Alice.
Embracing you and your dear wife, I remain your old friend
Jenny Marx