Manchester, 11 June 1852 

Dear Weydemeyer, 

We have received the first issue of the Revolution,? but we had 
imagined you would contrive to include Freiligrath’s poem about 
Kinkel,” which would not after all have increased the cost very 
much. While the closeness of the print and the large format were 
unavoidable due to lack of funds, it is a great pity that this should 
have made it so difficult to read, particularly when misprints 
distort the meaning. But what surprises us is the difficulty you 
seem to have about dispatching the 300 copies we ordered other 
than by post. Your friends over there, Helmich and Korff, must 
be colossal asses indeed if they can’t so much as tell you that the 
mail steamers also carry parcels and even heavy bales of 
merchandise, and that all details concerning freight, etc., etc. can 
be obtained at the steamship offices—not, of course, at the post 
office. The location of these steamship offices may be found in 
any newspaper announcement, beneath which there is always the 
name of a local business house. Moreover there are any number of 
forwarding agents concerned with handling such things, for 
example Edwards, Sandford & Co. of Liverpool and London, who 
also have an office in New York. You simply address the parcel as 
follows: 

(at the top) per ... Steamer 

care of Messrs Edwards, Sandford & Co., 
Liverpool 

(underneath) F, E, 
care of Messrs Ermen & Engels 
Manchester 

Printed books, not bound. 

4 containing K. Marx’s Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte - > F. Freiligrath, ‘An 
Joseph Weydemeyer’, I and II. 

That’s all, and sent in this way it costs only a few shillings which 
Ermen & Engels can stand. But it’s really too bad that people like 
Helmich and Korff, who have been in New York so long and who, 
moreover, also do a certain amount of business, should be 
ignorant of matters with which any child over here is familiar. 

The copies of the Turn-Zeitung have not yet arrived, either here 
or in London; you should make inquiries at your post office. 

The printing costs are colossal; for £5 per shect—scarcely more 
than you have had to pay—we could get the thing similarly 
printed in London. Paper should, after all, be cheaper over there, 
since here it carries a duty of 1'/sd (3 cents) per 1b. Perhaps you 
could inquire about the price from the local wholesale paper 
merchants and let us know what it is. 

Just send here anything destined for Europe. Marx has a 
German bookseller in London who is reliable and upon whom, 
moreover, he can keep an eye; this man will see to distribution 
both here, and in Germany, Switzerland, etc., etc., in return for a 
modest percentage. If, then, when you receive this letter you have 
not yet sent off the parcel with the 50 copies for London and 250 
for Cologne, take the opportunity of including in it as many as 
you think appropriate, or can spare, for the German bookseller to 
dispose of. But should it already have gone, send nothing more 
until we ask for it. We shall, of course, charge a higher price here, 
if only to defray our costs and the bookseller’s commission. 15 
silver groschen is well within the means of the German philistine. 

Since the second issue is to be devoted exclusively to Freilig- 
rath’s poems, it is presumably already in print. These things, 
particularly the Kinkel poem, should not be held back a moment 
longer than is unavoidable. This should really have been published 
in one way or another’ after Kinkel’s return to New York; but 
the longer it lingers, the more it loses in topicality and, even for 
things which are largely written with an eye to immortality, there 
is a certain period during which they are especially rewarding and 
at their most topical. But since I deliberately write, not with an eye 
to immortality, but rather for the immediate present, my article on 
the English bourgeoisie* may well be somewhat long-drawn-out, 
especially since a work of this kind lends itself very well to 
piecemeal publication amongst other material in a newspaper or 
weekly; in a review, however, where because of its very length it 
takes up most of the space, it would not be topical or interesting 
enough for the American-German public. Besides, Mr Derby may 

4 See this volume, p. 55. 

very well topple before August, and that’s a ticklish sort of thing 
to prognosticate. 

While beholden to Korff for his goodwill, Dronke has no inten- 
tion of going to America since he has just started a wholesale bus- 
iness in cigar cases, etc., etc., as agent for a Parisian house. For that 
matter, neither Dronke nor any of the rest of us is on the same 
easy terms with Korff as during the first months of the N. Rh. Z.; 
we still remember all too clearly the circumstances of Korff’s 
dismissal from the newspaper! and how subsequently, in New 
York, he published my Hungarian articles under his own name.'”. 
He may be of some use to you in small ways, but you would be 
well advised not to trust him out of sight, and Marx is particularly 
anxious that Korff should not come butting in between himself 
and Dana, having, it seems, already caused some sort of ruction in 
this respect. In your letter you say that Marx will have been able 
to see for himself from Dana’s letter how unresponsive the 
Tribune is to our cause; this passage we find totally incomprehen- 
sible since Dana had written Marx a most cordial letter in which 
he requested, not only further instalments of the German article,’ 
but other contributions as well. It would certainly not suit us if 
Korff were in any way to thrust himself forward as_ the 
representative or champion of either of us in personal matters. 

Since there is so much delay over the American exhibition,’ it 
would be better if vou were to take no further steps in respect of 
the leather business” until you have again heard from us about it. 
Marx is up here just now and hence cannot for the time being 
speak to the Hungarian.‘ For he and I are now engaged in a most 
interesting and amusing piece of work‘ which is to be published 
directly. As soon as we receive the first copies we shall send you 
one, then we shall also be able to discuss to what extent you can 
use the thing and, perhaps, make money out of it towards the 
production of new pamphlets, for this time it’s going to be 
something that will indubitably sell. 

Eccarius has been written to about his final instalment‘; he will 
have little to add, the workers—as was to be expected—having 
been beaten. 

Our dear, worthy Willich has suffered a grave misfortune. Once 
a week Baroness Briiningk used to invite the Prussian lieutenants 
in London and other such great men to her table, when it was her 

a Engels’ series of articles, Revolution and Counter-Revolulion in Germany. - > See this 
volume, p. 95. - © Bangya - a The Great Men of the Exile.-* See this volume, 
p. 117. 

custom to flirt with these gallant knights. This, it seems, caused 
the blood to rush violently to the head of our virtuous Willich, 
who, finding himself one day téte-a-téte with the young lady, was 
suddenly overwhelmed by a fit of uncontrollable lust and, quite 
without warning, made a somewhat brutish attack upon her. But 
this had in no way been madame’s intention, and she ordered our 
paragon of knightly virtue to be thrown out of the house sans 

facon: 

‘Blessed is he that virtue loves, 
Woe to him that’s Jost it... 

A wretched stripling, here am I 
Chucked out into the street’ 

and the morally pure stoic, who as a rule felt a far greater 
sympathy for fair-haired young tailor’s apprentices than for pretty 
young women, may thank his stars that he did not in the end find 
himself back ‘in the guardroom at Kassel” as a result of this 
involuntary, instinctive outbreak of his physical ego so long kept 
enchained. The thing has been noted and circulated with great 
glee throughout London. There is, by the way, some prospect that 
you may have this gallant fellow in New York before too long. 
Over here the man ‘who enjoyed the respect of all parties and 
even of his enemies’, is daily losing more ground. He maintains 
relations with Kinkel and Schapper, his right and left hand props, 
only with reluctance (and in Kinkel’s case on pecuniary grounds), 
for he hates them both and they him; he has several times 
received rough treatment at the hands of the inferior refugees, 
since when he has given them up. After this latest business he will 
never again be allowed into houses where there are young women, 
in addition to which he has now lost his aura of virtue. On the 
other hand he hears talk of how the men of Willich’s Corps in 
New York stick together and he has the gallant Weitling 
there—hence, and more particularly when the flow of money 
from the loan fund*’ begins to dry up, he will probably make 
himself scarce. Indeed, he has already sent out an apostle in the 
shape of Heise from Kassel—this fellow forms part of his personal 
entourage. In addition he is now dispatching another harbinger, 
poor old Mirbach, who fell into his clutches through sheer, bitter 
necessity and, as a result of his total ignorance of the emigration’s 
antecedents and his theoretical confusion, was naturally dazzled by 

a without further ado-> Heine, ‘Klagelied eines altdeulschen Jünglings’ 
(Romanzen). - © ibid. 

such fine airs. He is au fond* a very good fellow, a political 
nonentity, but otherwise honourable and, militarily speaking, I find 
him 10 times preferable to all the London great men. He used to 
call on Marx, but never unchaperoned by that lout Imandt and 
that philistine jackass Schily, so that it was never possible to talk to 
him frankly. 

In America our Willich would be in his element; the old crew in 
New York, which by now must have run completely wild and 
disintegrated into rowp1Es AND Loafers, would very soon grow sick of 
him and beat him black and blue—even over here his relationship 
with the swine finally degenerated into the low vulgarity of a mob 
of rogues bickering over plunder—while his friend, that experi- 
enced trickster Weitling, would likewise ensure him a brilliant 
future. 

But I must close now. Marx sends his regards—many regards 
from us both to your wife. 

Your 
F. E.