It is now at least six months since you wrote to me. What shall I 
say to such a friend? You don’t write, your brother‘ does not 
write, Wurm does not write, Gre] does not write, Heuser does not 
write, not a line from W. Blank, I am still less aware of anything 
from Phimacher, sacré tonnerre, what am I to say? When I last 
wrote to you, my roll of tobacco still weighed seven pounds, now 
there is barely a cubic inch of it left, and still no reply. Instead you 

lead a gay life in Barmen—wait, you fellows, as if I didn’t know 
of every glass of beer that you have since drunk whether you 
drank it in one draught or several. 

You in particular should be ashamed to inveigh against my 
political truths, you political sleepyhead. If you are left to sit 
quietly in your rural parsonage, for you will hardly expect a 
higher position, and to go out for a walk every evening with Frau 
Pastor and eventually with the young little Pastors and nobody 
fires off a cannon-ball under your nose, you are blissfully happy 
and don’t trouble yourself about the sinful F. Engels who argues 
against the established order. Oh you heroes! But you will yet be 
drawn into politics, the current of the times will come flooding 
over your idyllic household, and then you will stand like the oxen 
before the mountain. Activity, life, youthful spirit, that is the real 
thing! 

By now you will already have heard of the grandiose fun stirred 
up here by our mutual friend Krummacher.’ It is now practically 
over, but it was a bad business. The Panielites formed up in 
battalions, stormed the militia arsenal and marched through the 
town with a large tricolour. They sang: “Free is the life we lead” 
and “Vivat Paniel, long live Paniel, Paniel is a worthy man!” The 
Krummacherians gathered in the Cathedral precincts, occupied 
the town hall, where the Senate was just in session, and plundered 
the armoury. Armed with halberds and spiked clubs they formed 
a square in the Cathedral precincts, aimed the two cannons which 
stand near the main guard post (though they had no powder) at 
Obernstrasse, from which the Panielites were coming, and so 
awaited the enemy. But when the latter arrived in front of the 
cannons, they entered the market from the other side, and 
occupied it. The 600-strong cavalry occupied the Grasmarkt, 
directly opposite the Krummacherians, and awaited the command 
to charge. At this point Burgomaster Smidt came out of the town 
hall. He stopped between the parties, planting his feet firmly on 
the stone on which Gottfried, a woman guilty of poisoning, was 
executed and which stands exactly half an inch above the pave- 
ment, and, turning to the Krummacherians, said: “You men of 
Then turning, now to the right, now to the left, he made the 
following speech: “Since Krummacher is an alien, it is not fitting 
that a quarrel which he has stirred up should be fought out within 

To Wilhelm Graeber, November 20, 1840 515 

our good town. Therefore, I suggest to the honoured parties that 
they repair to the Burghers’ Common, which offers a most 
suitable terrain for such scenes.” 

This was approved, and the parties marched out by different 
gates, after Paniel had armed himself with Roland’s stone shield 
and sword. The supreme command over the Krummacherians, 
who were 6,239'/, men strong, was taken over by Pastor Mallet, 
who took part in the campaign of 1813; he ordered powder to be 
bought and a few small cobbles to be taken along to load the 
cannons. Arriving on the Burghers’ Common, Pastor Mallet gave 
orders to occupy the churchyard which adjoins it and is sur- 
rounded by a wide ditch. He mounted the memorial to Gottfried 
Menken and ordered the cannons to be driven on to the cemetery 
mound. But for want of horses it had not been possible to bring 
out the cannons. In the meantime it was nine o’clock in the eve- 
ning and pitch dark. The armies bivouacked, Paniel in Schwach- 
hausen, a village, Mallet in the suburb. The headquarters was in 
the riding school before the Herdentor, which, however, was 
already occupied by a troup of exhibition riders; but when Pastor 
Kohlmann of Horn held an evening service in the school, the 
riders ran away. This happened on October 17th. In the mornin 
of the 18th, the two armies took the field. Paniel, who had 4,2673/, 
foot and 1,689'/, horse, attacked. A column of infantry led by 
Paniel himself attacked Mallet’s first battle-line, which consisted of 
the pupils of his catechism class and a few women zealots. When 
three old women had been speared and six catechumens shot, the 
battalion scattered and was driven by Paniel into the roadside 
ditch. On Paniel’s right wing stood Pastor Capelle with three 
cavalry squadrons formed by young office employees, who out- 
flanked Mallet and attacked him from behind; he occupied the 
suburb and deprived Mallet of his operational base. Paniel’s left 
wing, under the command of Pastor Rothe, advanced on the Horn 
highway and pressed the Young Men’s Union, who did not know 
how to handle halberds, back on the main body of Mallet’s army. 
Then we, six of us, heard the shooting in the fencing lesson and 
rushed out in fencing jackets, gloves, masks and helmets; the gate 
was locked, an attack on the guard gave us the keys, and so we 
arrived on the scene of the battle, rapier in hand. Richard Roth of 
Barmen re-formed the scattered Young Men’s Union, while Holler 
of Solingen threw himself into a house with the remnants of the 
catechumens; three others and I unseated a few Panielites from 
their horses, mounted them and, supported by the Young Men’s 
Union, threw back the enemy cavalry; Mallet’s main army ad- 

vanced, our rapiers spread cartes, tierces, terror and death, and in 
half an hour the rationalists were destroyed. Now Mallet came to 
thank us, and when we saw for whom we had been fighting, we 
looked at each other in astonishment. 

Se non é vero, é come spero ben trovato.* But now write soon! And 
urge Wurm to write to me. 

Fr. Engels