{Manchester, 10 March 1853]

Dear Marx,

Yesterday I sent off one half of a fiver to you and, at the same time, the other half under cover to Dronke. I’m really in a fix; in February I had to fork out some £50 to repay debts, etc., and there’ll be another £30 or so to be paid out this month and next. Otherwise I'd have sent you more. A reform of my PERSONAL EXPENSES is urgently called for and, in a week or a fortnight’s time, I shall move into cheaper lodgings and also resort to less potent liquor so as to prepare myself for the great moment when the balance is struck. Last year, thank God, I gobbled up half of my old man’s profits from the business here. As soon as my old man’s arrival becomes imminent, I shall remove to select Lopcincs, buy select cigars and wines, etc., so that we can impress him. Voila la vie»

By his statements,° Monsieur Kossuth has utterly ruined himself in the eyes of people up here, German as well as English. Mazzini likewise, by the insurrection itself**’ and by his sordid way of

starting a fracas with the cowardly murder of individual soldiers, this being particularly abhorrent to the English. It would be difficult to imagine anything more craven and blackguardly than these two letters of Kossuth’s and withal the constant pretension: I AM A PLAIN, HONEST MAN. The gentlemen should, by the way, beware: given the evidence, ce cher Aberdeen is just the sort of man to have them locked up and prosecuted without more ado and whether, after all this, they could be quite so sure of an acquittal, I do not know.

The Ministry OF ALL THE TALENTS BAS TURNS OUT A COMPLETE HUMBUG. Johnny,? more shrunken than ever; the great Gladstone, a self-complacent know-all a la Mevissen; Aberdeen, full of diploma- tic-toryistic reminiscences and consummate courtier; the late messiah Peel’s apostle John, Sidney Herbert, a wholly incompetent Secretary at War,—they’re a fine tor. At the same time they all feel somewhat out of place, except for shameless old Palmerston, who is at home everywhere and, witness the Mazzini debate in both Houses, as mutinous as ever. Indeed, ever since the debate

-on Greece 2” the Militia Bill? and the debate on the Address, he has been de facto Leaver or THE House or Commons, and it is bitterly ironical that, for form’s sake, poor Johnny should be given this post. But when, in this capacity, Johnny goes on to ask for a salary, it is carrying effrontery beyond all bounds; however a new post is, of course, a godsend to both parties. I shall be curious to see Master Gladstone’s budget; what he said about the estimates and Hume’s Tariff motion “*’ leads one to expect that he will leave everything more or less as it was, which is about all that is likely to result from this patriotic coalition ministry. Meanwhile, the tales of corruption during the last election are really capital and will doubtless necessitate some sort of Reform Bill during the next session. If, by then, Trape has deteriorated and the Continent bestirs itself, we can expect some fine goings-on.

I now have at home the book by Urquhart,“ the mad MP who denounces Palmerston as being in the pay-of Russia. The explanation is a simple one: the fellow’s a Celtic Scot with a Saxon-Scottish upbringing, by inclination a Romantic, by hee g- ing a Free-rraper. This chap went to Greece asa Philhellene™ after 3 years of fighting the Turks, proceeded to Turkey and went into raptures about these self-same Turks. He enthuses over Islam on the principle, ‘if I wasn’t a Calvinist, I could only be a

Mohammedan’. Turks, particularly those of the Ottoman Empire in its heyday, are the most perfect nation on earth in every possible way. The Turkish language is the most perfect and melodious in the world. All the foolish talk of barbarism, cruelty and absurd barbaric arrogance stems solely from European ignorance of Turkey and from the biased calumnies of Greek dragomans. If a European is maltreated in Turkey, he has only himself to blame; your Turk hates neither the religion of the Frank, nor his character, but only his narrow trousers. Imitation of Turkish architecture, etiquette, etc. is strongly recommended. The author himself was several times kicked in the bottom by Turks, but subsequently realised that he alone was to blame. Contact with Europeans, and attempts at civilisation, have only enervated and disorganised the Turks. The Turkish Constitution in its ‘purity’ is the finest there is, and is almost superior to the English. The Turk enjoys setr.covernment through customs going back a thousand years and through the Koran. The Sultan, far from being a ‘despot’, is more circumscribed than the most Gracious queen.” Freedom of religion exists only in Turkey. In this paradise there are no class differences, class struggles or political parties, nor can there be, for in matters of internal politics all are of the same mind. Nowhere is there less centralisation than in Turkey. In short, only the Turk is a gentleman and freedom exists only in Turkey.

The Czar” is now intriguing against this happy land through the agency of Greek clerics, and England has constantly allowed this same Czar to lead her by the nose. England must support Turkey, etc., etc., and other commonplaces as hoary as they are trivial. On the whole this book is highly entertaining. The really choice thing about it is that it forms the basis for the entire policy of the English, anti-Palmerston liberals, e.g. all the articles in The Daily News on the Turkish mummery are simply paraphrases of Urquhart who, qua Freetraper, enjoys absolute confidence, al- though he blames the English for destroying Thessaly’s industry with their imports—but in a HIGHLANDER a certain licence may be permitted.

There is one good aspect to it, namely that The Times, even though primarily in the Russian interest, is at long last attacking the old philistine nonsense about Turkey’s integrity.” The asinine Daily News which, in its blinkered bourgeois way, can see no

further than the end of its nose, is whining about betrayal but can offer nothing better to counter it than the same old diplomatic rubbish.***° If the fun goes on much longer, the gentlemen will soon have to resort to other arguments and come round to the view that only a continental revolution can put an end to the mess. Surely even the most egregious philistines must in due course come to realise that, without one, absolutely nothing can be solved.

The Austro-Prussian tariff business*” is the only step forward Germany has succeeded in making— et encore’! The thing has so many strings attached, and so many vital issues have been left to later committees, while the actual tariff reductions are so minimal, that little will come of it. Come the great industrial crisis, and the whole trade agreement will vanish into thin air in the face of the general débacle.

Here all that happens is thieving, broken bones on the railways, and flying up in the air. The local philistines are quite dumbfounded by the extraordinary events of the past week. Fortunately cotton is going down, which is why nothing is happening on the Exchange and people can concern themselves to their heart’s content with these momentous occurrences. The spinning mills and most of the weaving mills are still fully occupied, but in coarse calicoes (pomrstics) there is total stagnation and, as from Monday, all factories in this trade will be working only 3 days a week.

Regards to your wife and children.

Dronke will have received the Reichenbach thing.

Your F. E.

Will get the Herzen‘ one of these days; the snag is that just now I’m unable to write to my brother-in-law.