On the canal-boat going to D., 
March 1843 

I am now travelling in Holland. As far as I can judge from the 
Dutch and French newspapers, Germany is sunk deep in the mire 
and will sink still deeper. I assure you, even if one has no feeling 
of national pride at all, nevertheless one has a feeling of national 
shame, even in Holland. The most insignificant Dutchman is still a 
citizen compared with the greatest German. And the verdict of the 
foreigners on the Prussian Government! A horrifying unanimity 
prevails; no one is any longer deceived about the Prussian system 
and its simple nature. After all, therefore, the new school has been 
of some use. The mantle of liberalism has been discarded and the 
most disgusting despotism in all its nakedness is disclosed to the 
eyes of the whole world. 

That, too, is a revelation, although one of the opposite kind. It 
is a truth which, at least, teaches us to recognise the emptiness of 
our patriotism and the abriormity of our state system, and makes 
us hide our faces in shame. You look at me with a smile and ask: 
What is gained by that? No revolution is made out of shame. I 
reply: Shame is already revolution of a kind; shame is actually the 
victory of the French Revolution over the German patriotism that 
defeated it in 1813. Shame is a kind of anger which is turned 
inward. And if a whole nation really experienced a sense of 
shame, it would be like a lion, crouching ready to spring. I admit 
that in Germany even shame is not yet felt; on the contrary, these 
miserable people are still patriots. But what system is capable of 
knocking the patriotism out of them if not this ridiculous system 

of the new cavalier?? The comedy of despotism that is being 
played out with us is just as dangerous for him, as the tragedy 
once was for the Stuarts and Bourbons. And even if for a long 
time this comedy were not to be looked upon as the thing it 
actually is, it would still amount to a revolution. The state is too 
serious a thing to be turned into a kind of harlequinade. A ship 
full of fools' could perhaps be allowed to drift for quite a time at 
the mercy of the wind, but it would be driven to meet its fate 
precisely because the fools would not believe this. This fate is the 
impending revolution. 

M. to Rb 
Cologne, May 1843 

Your letter, my dear friend, is a fine elegy, a funeral song” that 
takes one’s breath away; but there is absolutely nothing political 
about it. No people wholly despairs, and even if for a long time it 
goes on hoping merely out of stupidity, yet one day, after many 
years, it will suddenly become wise and fulfil all its pious wishes. 

Nevertheless, you have infected me, your theme is still not 
exhausted, I want to add the finale, and when everything is at an 
end, give me your hand, so that we may begin again from the 
beginning. Let the dead bury their dead and mourn them. On the 
other hand, it is enviable to be the first to enter the new life alive; 
that is to be our lot. 

It is true that the old world belongs to the philistine. But one 
should not treat the latter as a bugbear from which to recoil in 
fear. On the contrary, we ought to keep an eye on him. It is worth 
while to study this lord of the world. 

He is lord of the world, of course, only because he fills it with 
his society as maggots do a corpse. Therefore the society of these 
lords needs no more than a number of slaves, and the owners of 
these slaves do not need to be free. Although, as being owners of 
land and people, they are called lords, in the sense of being 
pre-eminent, for all that they are no less philistines than their 
servants. 

As for human beings, that would imply thinking beings, free 
men, republicans. The philistines do not want to be either of 
these. What then remains for them to be and to desire? 

What they want is to live and reproduce themselves (and no 
one, says Goethe, achieves anything more), and that the animal 

also wants; at most a German politician would add: Man, however, 
knows that he wants this, and the German is so prudent as not to 
want anything more. 

The self-confidence of the human being, freedom, has first of 
all to be aroused again in the hearts of these people. Only this 
feeling, which vanished from the world with the Greeks, and 
under Christianity disappeared into the blue mist of the heavens, 
can again transform society into a community of human beings 
united for their highest aims, jnto a democratic state. 

On the other hand, people who do not feel that they are human 
beings become the property of their masters like a breed of slaves 
or horses. The aim of this whole society are the hereditary 
masters. This world belongs to them. They accept it as it is and as 
it feels itself to be. They accept themselves as they are, and place 
their feet firmly on the necks of these political animals who know 
of no other function than to be “obedient, devoted and attentive” 
to their masters. . 

The philistine world is a political world of animals, and if we have 
to recognise its existence, nothing remains for us but simply to 
agree to this status quo. Centuries of barbarism engendered and 
shaped it, and now it confronts us as a consistent system, the 
principle of which is the dehumanised world. Hence the most 
complete philistine world, our Germany, was bound, of course, to 
remain far behind the French revolution, which once more 
restored man; and a German Aristotle who wanted to derive his 
politics from our conditions would write at the top of it: “Man is a 
social animal that is however completely unpolitical”,? but he could 
not explain the state more correctly than has already been done by 
Herr Z6pfl, the author of Constitutionellen Staatsrechts in Deutsch- 
land According to him, the state is a “union of families” which, 
we continue, belongs by heredity and property to a most eminent 
family called the dynasty. The more prolific the families, the 
happier, it is said, are the people, the greater is the state, and the 
more powerful the dynasty, for which reason, too, in Prussia, an 
ordinary despotic state, a prize of 50 imperial talers is awarded for 
a seventh son. 

The Germans are such circumspect realists that all their desires 
and their loftiest thoughts do not go beyond a bare existence. And 
this reality—nothing more—is taken into account by those who 

rule over them. These latter people, too, are realists, they are very 
far removed from any kind of thoughts and from any human 
greatness; they are ordinary officers and country squires, but they 
are not mistaken, they are right; just as they are, they are quite 
capable of making use of this animal kingdom and ruling over it, 
for here, as everywhere, ruling and using are a single conception. 
And when homage is paid to them and they survey the swarming 
mass of these brainless beings, what is more likely to occur to them 
than the thought that Napoleon had at the Berezina? It is said of 
Napoleon that he pointed to the crowd of drowning people 
below him and exclaimed to his companion: “Voyez ces crapauds!” ? 
‘This is probably a fabrication, but it is nonetheless true. Despot- 
ism’s sole idea is contempt for man, the dehumanised man, and 
this idea has the advantage over many others of being at the same 
time a fact. The despot always sees degraded people. They drown 
before his eyes and for his sake in the mire of ordinary life, from 
which, like toads, they constantly make their appearance anew. If 
such a view comes to be held even by people who were capable of 
great aims, such as Napoleon before his dynastic madness, how 
can a quite ordinary king in such surroundings be an idealist? 

The monarchical principle in general is the despised, the 
despicable, the dehumanised man; and Montesquieu was quite wrong 
to allege that it is honour.’ He gets out of the difficulty by 
distinguishing between monarchy, despotism and tyranny. But 
those are names for one and the same concept, and at most they 
denote differences in customs though the principle remains the 
same. Where the monarchical principle has a majority behind it, 
human beings constitute the minority; where the monarchical 
principle arouses no doubts, there human beings do not exist at 
all. Why should someone like the King of Prussia,‘ to whom it has 
never been demonstrated that his role is problematical, not be 
guided exclusively by his whims? And when he acts in that way, 
what is the result? Contradictory intentions? Well, then nothing 
will come of it. Impotent trends? They are still the sole political 
reality. Ridiculous and embarrassing situations? There is only one 
situation which is ridiculous and only one which is embarrassing, 
and that is abdication from the throne. So long as whim retains its 
place, it is in the right. It can be as unstable, senseless and 
contemptible as it chooses, it is still good enough for ruling a 

people that has never known any other law but the arbitrary 
power of its kings. I do not say that a brainless system and loss of 
respect within the state and outside it will be without conse- 
quences, I do not undertake to insure the ship of fools, but I assert: 
the King of Prussia will remain the man of his time so long as the 
topsy-turvy world is the real world. 

As you know, I have given much thought to this man. Already 
at the time when he still had only the Berliner politische Wochenblatt 
as his organ, I recognised his value and his role. Already when the 
oath of allegiance was taken in K6nigsberg, he justified my 
supposition that the question would now become a purely personal 
one.”’ He declared that his heart and his turn of mind would be 
the future fundamental law of the realm of Prussia, of his state, 
and in point of fact, in Prussia the king is the system. He is the 
sole political person. In one way or another, his personality 
determines the system. What he does or is allowed to do, what he 
thinks or what is attributed to him, is what in Prussia the state 
thinks or does. Therefore the present king has really performed a 
service by stating this so unambiguously. 

But the mistake which people made for a time was to attach 
importance to the desires and thoughts that would be expressed 
by the king. This could not alter the matter in the slightest: the 
philistine is the material of the monarchy, and the monarch always 
remains only the king of the philistines; he cannot turn either 
himself or his subjects into free, real human beings while both 
sides remain what they are. 

The King of Prussia has tried to alter the system by means of a 
theory which in this form his father* really did not have. The fate 
of this attempt is well known. It was a complete failure. This was 
to be expected. Once one has arrived at the political world of 
animals, reaction can go no farther, and there can be no other 
advance than the abandonment of the basis of this world and the 
transition to the human world of democracy. 

The old king had no extravagant desires, he was a philistine and 
made no claim to intellect. He knew that the state of servants and 
his possession of it required only a prosaic, tranquil existence. The 
young king was more alert and brighter and had a much higher 
opinion of the omnipotence of the monarch, who is only limited 
by his heart and mind. The old ossified state of servants and slaves 
disgusted him. He wanted to enliven it and imbue it wholly and 
entirely with his own desires, sentiments and thoughts; and in his 

state he could demand this, if only it could be brought about. 
Hence his liberal speeches and the outpourings of his heart. Not 
dead laws, but the full, vigorous heart of the king should rule all 
his subjects. He wanted to set all hearts and minds into motion for 
the benefit of his own heart’s desires and long-cherished plans. A 
movement did result; but the other hearts did not beat like that of 
the king, and those over whom he ruled could not open their 
mouths without speaking about the abolition of the old domina- 
tion. The idealists, who have the audacity to want to turn men into 
human beings, spoke out, and while the king wove fantasies in the 
old German manner, they considered they had the right to 
philosophise in the new German manner. Of course, this was 
shocking in Prussia. For a moment the old order of things seemed 
to have been turned upside-down; indeed things began to be 
transformed into human beings, there even appeared renowned 
persons, although the mention of names is not permitted in the 
Diets. But the servants of the old despotism soon put an end to 
this un-German activity. It was not difficult to bring about a 
marked conflict between the desires of the king, who is enthusing 
about a great past full of priests, knights and feudal serfs, and the 
intentions of the idealists, who want only the consequences of the 
French Revolution and therefore, in the final count, always a 
republic and an organisation of free human beings instead of the 
system of dead objects. When this conflict had become sufficiently 
sharp and unpleasant and the hot-tempered king was sufficiently 
aroused, his servants, who previously had so easily guided the 
course of affairs, approached him and asserted that he was not 
acting wisely in inducing his subjects to make useless speeches, and 
that his servants would not be able to rule this race of vociferous 
people. In addition, the sovereign of all the posterior-Russians was 
alarmed by the movement in the minds of the anterior-Russians* 
and demanded the restoration of the old tranquil state of affairs. 
And so the result was a new edition of the old proscription of all 
the desires and thoughts of people in regard to human rights and 
duties, that is to say, a return to the old ossified state of servants, 
in which the slave serves in silence, and the owner of the land and 
people rules, as silently as possible, simply through a class of 
well-bred, submissively obedient servants. It is not possible for 
either of them to say what he wants: the slave cannot say that he 
wants to become a human being, nor can the ruler say that he has 

no use for human beings in his country. To be silent, therefore, is 
the only way out. Muta pecora, prona et ventri oboedientia? 

That is the unsuccessful attempt to abolish the philistine state on. 
its own basis; the result has been to make it evident to the whole 
world that for despotism brutality is a necessity and humanity an 
impossibility. A brutal relationship can only be maintained by 
means of brutality. And now I have finished with our common 
task, that of taking a close look at the philistine and his state. You 
will not say that I have had too high an opinion of the present 
time; and if, nevertheless, I do not despair of it, that is only 
because it is precisely the desperate situation which fills me with 
hope. I am not speaking of the incapacity of the masters and of 
the indifference of the servants and subjects who let everything 
happen just as God pleases—although both together would 
already suffice to bring about a catastrophe. I simply draw your 
attention to the fact that the enemies of philistinism, in short, all 
people who think and who suffer, have reached an understanding, 
for which previously the means were altogether lacking, and that 
even the passive system of reproduction of the subjects of the old 
type daily enlists recruits to serve the new type of humanity. The 
system of industry and trade, of ownership and exploitation of 
people, however, leads even far more rapidly than the increase in 
population to a rupture within present-day society, a rupture 
which the old system is not able to heal, because it does not heal 
and create at all, but only exists and consumes. But the existence 
of suffering human beings, who think, and thinking human 
beings, who are oppressed, must inevitably become unpalatable 
and indigestible to the animal world of philistinism which passively 
and thoughtlessly consumes. 

For our part, we must expose the old world to the full light of 
day and shape the new one in a positive way. The longer the time 
that events allow to thinking humanity for taking stock of its 
position, and to suffering mankind for mobilising its forces, the 
more perfect on entering the world will be the product that the 
present time bears in its womb. 

M. to R.? 
Kreuznach, September 1843 

I am glad that you have made up your mind and, ceasing to 
look back at the past, are turning your thoughts ahead to a new 

enterprise.” And so—to Paris, to the old university of 
philosophy—absit omen!*—and the new capital of the new world! 
What is necessary comes to pass. I have no doubt, therefore, that 
it will be possible to overcome all obstacles, the gravity of which I 
do not fail to recognise. 

But whether the enterprise comes into being or not, in any case 
I shall be in Paris by the end of this month,”> since the 
atmosphere here makes one a serf, and in Germany I see no scope 
at all for free activity. 

In Germany, everything is forcibly suppressed; a real anarchy of 
the mind, the reign of stupidity itself, prevails there, and Zurich 
obeys orders from Berlin. It therefore becomes increasingly 
obvious that a new rallying point must be sought for truly thinking 
and independent minds. 1 am convinced that our plan would 
answer a real need, and after all it must be possible for real needs 
to be fulfilled in reality. Hence I have no doubt about the 
enterprise, if it is undertaken seriously. 

The internal difficulties seem to be almost greater than the 
external obstacles. For although no doubt exists on the question of 
“Whence”, all the greater confusion prevails on the question of 
“Whither”. Not only has a state of general anarchy set in among 
the reformers, but everyone will have to admit to himself that he 
has no exact idea what the future ought to be. On the other hand, 
it is precisely the advantage of the new trend that we do not 
dogmatically anticipate the world, but only want to find the new 
world through criticism of the old one. Hitherto philosophers have 
had the solution of all riddles lying in their writing-desks, and the 
stupid, exoteric world had only to open its mouth for the roast 
pigeons of absolute knowledge to fly into it. Now philosophy has 
become mundane, and the most striking proof of this is that 
philosophical consciousness itself has been drawn into the torment 
of the struggle, not only externally but also internally. But, if 
constructing the future and settling everything for all times are 
not our affair, it is all the more clear what we have to accomplish 
at present: I am referring to ruthless criticism of all that exists, 
ruthless both in the sense of not being afraid of the results it 
arrives at and in the sense of being just as little afraid of conflict 
with the powers that be. 

Therefore I am not in favour of raising any dogmatic banner. 
On the contrary, we must try to help the dogmatists to clarify their 
propositions for themselves. Thus, communism, in particular, is a 

dogmatic abstraction; in which connection, however, I am not 
thinking of some imaginary and possible communism, but actually 
existing communism as taught by Cabet, Dézamy, Weitling, etc. 
This communism is itself only a special expression of the humanis- 
tic principle, an expression which is still infected by its an- 
tithesis—the private system. Hence the abolition of private prop- 
erty and communism are by no means identical, and it is not 
accidental but inevitable that communism has seen other socialist 
doctrines—such as those of Fourier, Proudhon, etc.—arising to 
confront it because it is itself only a special, one-sided realisation 
of the socialist principle. 

And the whole socialist principle in its turn is only one aspect 
that concerns the reality of the true human being. But we have to 
pay just as much attention to the other aspect, to the theoretical 
existence of man, and therefore to make religion, science, etc., the 
object of our criticism. In addition, we want to influence our 
contemporaries, particularly our German contemporaries. The 
question arises: how are we to set about it? There are two kinds of 
facts which are undeniable. In the first place religion, and next to 
it, politics, are the subjects which form the main interest of 
Germany today. We must take these, in whatever form they exist, 
as our point of departure, and not confront them with some 
ready-made system such as, for example, the Voyage en Icarie. 

Reason has always existed, but not always in a reasonable form. 
The critic can therefore start out from any form of theoretical and 
practical consciousness and from the forms peculiar to existing 
reality develop the true reality as its obligation and its final goal. 
As far as real life is concerned, it is precisely the political state—in 
all its modern forms—which, even where it is not yet consciously 
imbued with socialist demands, contains the demands of reason. 
And the political state does not stop there. Everywhere it assumes 
that reason has been realised. But precisely because of that it 
everywhere becomes involved in the contradiction between its ideal 
function and its real prerequisites. 

From this conflict of the political state with itself, therefore, it is 
possible everywhere to develop the social truth. Just as religion is a 
register of the theoretical struggles of mankind, so the political state 
is a register of the practical struggles of mankind. Thus, the 
political state expresses, within the limits of its form sub specie rei 
publicae,” all social struggles, needs and truths. Therefore, to take 

as the object of criticism a most specialised political ques- 
tion—such as the difference between a system based on social 
estate and one based on representation—is in no way below the 
hauteur des principes.* For this question only expresses in a political 
way the difference between rule by man and rule by private 
property. Therefore the critic not only can, but must deal with 
these political questions (which according to the extreme Socialists 
are altogether unworthy of attention). In analysing the superiority 
of the representative system over the social-estate system, the critic 
in a practical way wins the interest of a large party. By raising the 
representative system from its political form to the universal form 
and by bringing out the true significance underlying this system, 
the critic at the same time compels this party to go beyond its own 
confines, for its victory is at the same time its defeat. 

Hence, nothing prevents us from making criticism of politics, 
participation in politics, and therefore real struggles, the starting 
point of our criticism, and from identifying our criticism with 
them. In that case we do not confront the world in a doctrinaire 
way with a new principle: Here is the truth, kneel down before it! 
We develop new principles for the world out of the world’s own 
principles. We do not say to the world: Cease your struggles, they 
are foolish; we will give you the true slogan of struggle. We 
merely show the world what it is really fighting for, and conscious- 
ness is something that it has to acquire, even if it does not want to. 

The reform of consciousness consists only in making the world 
aware of its own consciousness, in awakening it out of its dream 
about itself, in explaining to it the meaning of its own actions. Our 
whole object can only be—as is also the case in Feuerbach’s criticism 
of religion—to give religious and philosophical questions the form 
corresponding to man who has become conscious of himself. 

Hence, our motto must be: reform of consciousness not through 
dogmas, but by analysing the mystical consciousness that is 
unintelligible to itself, whether it manifests itself in a religious or a 
political form. It will then become evident that the world has long 
dreamed of possessing something of which it has only to be conscious 
in order to possess it in reality. It will become evident that it is not a 
question of drawing a great mental dividing line between past and 
future, but of realising the thoughts of the past. Lastly, it will become 
evident that mankind is not beginning a new work, but is consiously 
carrying into effect its old work. 

In short, therefore, we can formulate the trend of our journal as 
being: self-clarification (critical philosophy) to be gained by the 
present time of its struggles and desires. This is a work for the world 
and for us. It can be only the work of united forces. It is a matter of a 
confession, and nothing more. In order to secure remission of its sins, 
mankind has only to declare them for what they actually are.