Jenny, the eldest daughter of Karl Marx, died at Argenteuil 
near Paris on January 11. About eight years ago she married 
Charles Longuet, a former member of the Paris Commune and at 
present co-editor of the Justice.” 

Jenny Marx was born on May 1, 1844, grew up in the midst of 
the international proletarian movement and most closely together 
with it. Despite a reticence that could almost be taken for shyness, 
she displayed when necessary a presence of mind and energy 
which could be envied by many a man. 

When the Irish press disclosed the infamous treatment that the 
Fenians sentenced in 1866 and later had to suffer in jail,” and 
the English papers stubbornly ignored the atrocities; and when the 
Gladstone Government, despite the promises it made during the 
election campaign, refused to amnesty them or even to 
ameliorate their conditions, Jenny Marx found a means to make 
the pious Mr. Gladstone take immediate steps. She wrote two 
articles for Rochefort’s Marseillaise* vividly describing how political 
prisoners are treated in free England. This had an effect. The 
disclosures in a big Paris newspaper could not be endured. A few 
weeks later O’Donovan Rosa and most of the others were free 
and on their way to America. 

In the summer of 1871 Jenny, together with her youngest 
sister,” visited their brother-in-law Lafargue at Bordeaux. Lafargue, 
his wife, their sick child‘ and the two girls went from there to 

Bagnéres-de-Luchon, a spa in the Pyrenees. Early one morning a 
gentleman came to Lafargue and said: “I am a police officer, but 
a Republican; an order for your arrest has been received; it is 
known that you were in charge of communications between 
Bordeaux and the Paris Commune. You have one hour to cross 
the border.” 

Lafargue with his wife and child succeeded in getting over the 
pass into Spain, for which the police took revenge by arresting the 
two girls. Jenny had a letter in her pocket from Gustave Flourens, 
the leader of the Commune who was killed near Paris; had the 
letter been discovered, a journey to New Caledonia*”’ was sure to 
follow for the two sisters. When she was left alone in the office for 
a moment, Jenny opened a dusty old account book, put the letter 
inside and closed the book again. Perhaps the letter is still there. 
When the two girls were brought to his office, the prefect, the 
noble Count of Kératry, well remembered as a Bonapartist, closely 
questioned them. But the cunning of the former diplomat and the 
brutality of the former cavalry officer were of no avail when faced 
with Jenny’s calm circumspection. He left the room in a fit of rage 
about “the energy that seems peculiar to the women of this 
family”. After the dispatch of numerous cables to and from Paris, 
he finally had to release the two girls, who had been treated in a 
truly Prussian way during their detention. 

These two incidents are characteristic of Jenny. The proletariat 
has lost a valiant fighter in her. But her mourning father has at 
least the consolation that hundreds of thousands of workers in 
Europe and America share his sorrow. 

London, January 13, 1883