Manchester 15 Aug. 1870

Today I was at the bank which I gave Smith as a reference, and there I happened to hear that he has finally condescended to enquire for information, and the one he received (the bank would guarantee ten times the amount for me, if required) will probably satisfy him. I shall therefore probably soon hear from him. I am very glad that I do not have to write first to that stupid aristocrat of a landlord, whose seat near Bolton, right in the factory smoke, seems to be a very small affair; the fellow is obviously shooting grouse on the moors near by just now and will be in just the right mood to enter into business correspondence with tenants. It was obviously sheer self-importance on the donkey’s part.

Given the present conditions in France, where everything may be overthrown any day – and probably will be in 8–14 days – it is of course risky to take and furnish a house for 3½ years, but that must be risked. It seems to me the Orléanists now want an interim republic directed by themselves, as in 1848, so that it may disgrace itself by concluding peace, and then the crown may fall to their Orléans, as the only dynasty now possible. But this game can go wrong. The worst thing is – who is to head the movement in Paris, in the event of a really revolutionary movement? Rochefort is the most popular and the only usable one – Blanqui seems forgotten. That Barbès is dead is a piece of luck. The “beard of the party” would again spoil everything. Enfin, nous verrons.

I have been very lucky with my articles, namely that a few little prophecies I made at the right moment got into the press in time to be confirmed only next morning by the news. Such things are sheer luck and enormously impress the philistine. Who wrote the article the other day “Of Thunder-ten-Tronckh” in which the English philistines were told the truth so bluntly? In general it is remarkable what splendid qualities the English are now suddenly discovering in the Germans, and how they all fall upon Bonaparte, before whom they grovelled in the dust four weeks ago. There is no greater rabble than the honnêtes gens.

Unfortunately I have no time to write to Tussy today; would you be so good as to tell her that I shall write to Kugelmann in a day or two and enclose the relevant thing for him. My wife and I send you all our warmest greetings and hope that the sea cure will do you a world of good.

Yours,
F. Engels