in Washington
London, 17 April 1853
(Excerpts)

Today I receive the first 5 numbers from New York, I do not know whether from Weydemeyer or from Kellner. Most of the numbers I already knew through you. At least it is a decent paper, which is rare in America, and a workers’ paper. I cannot say, however, that I strongly relish the chief editor’s affected rhapsodising over the “questions personnelles”, which are at the same time party questions, his artfully naïve Biedermann philistinism, his biblical solemnity. Still, one must take the paper as it is. By far the best I liked was W.’s introduction to his “Economic Sketches”. That is good. I have called upon the people here; Dronke and Pieper have, I think, already sent something over. I shall speak with Jones. On the whole, collaboration is difficult. I myself am overburdened with work. The others, unfortunately, are still somewhat deterred by earlier experiences. Lupus is in a wretched state. Eccarius has to tailor from 5 o’clock in the morning till 8 in the evening and is in a dangerously hectic condition. Engels, for the time when he does not have to sit in the office, is entirely absorbed by studies and is probably also not yet cured of the little vexations he mutters about in connection with the American press. Our party is unfortunately very pauvre. I shall still turn to ex-lieutenant Steffens, ex-witness for the defence at the Cologne trial, now a schoolmaster in the environs of London. He has the most free time and is very capable. – Pieper never finished the articles you asked for, which is why you have not yet received them to this day.

[…] As for the Hirsch affair, a statement went immediately via Engels to Weydemeyer, which etc. etc. That B[angya] was not kosher I have known for more than 6 months. But I only broke with the fellow after the ass had given me an insight into all his connections, handed me the exonerating pieces for myself and the incriminating pieces for him, and had generally placed himself in my power. I threw him out at Szemere’s already some months ago.

My suspicion of Willich has merely been confirmed by his latest move. D’abord I know that he and Kinkel paid Hirsch with the revolution funds and still pay him! Moreover, during the Cologne trial, shortly after it had begun, Willich bragged to Fleury (who in turn told the matter to Imandt) that he possessed a letter from me dated Manchester and addressed to Bangya. I then called B. to account. He declared himself ready to be confronted with Fleury. Upon this communication, which I caused Imandt to convey to him, Fleury retracted. Thus Willich was at that time in illicit contact with Hirsch. He knew that Hirsch was in illicit contact with Greiff and that his friend Fleury was a spy. Through these fellows he obtained my letter. The “upright Biedermann” – for whom, en passant, free food and drink is le dernier but – wanted to set a trap for me and to this end got involved in dirty intrigues with mouchards.

To be sure, he sent H. to Cologne. To be sure, I learned later that Hirsch was in Cologne. But why did he send H. to Cologne and when did he send him there? Firstly, after it was too late. 2) After the police themselves in Cologne had denounced his friend Fleury – 3) After he himself had become suspect and by this theatrical coup wanted to reconstitute himself as a “noble Biedermann”. Hirsch himself, on his return, presented the matter in this light.

[…] Reichenb[ach] and family, the “clever” Lieutenant Schimmelpfennig with his wife and his £1,000 Brüning legacy, and finally the painter Schmölze have sailed for America today. Bon voyage! Only poor Lupus is losing his last hours through Reichenbach’s flight. That is bad for him. He is no Kinkel. He does not know how to crawl up the citizens’ arses, as the future “President of the German Republic” and his “consort” do, who are professional toadies, spongers and humbugs. The sweet Gottfried has toadied himself up so far that he has been permitted to repeat his old lectures on the Christian art of the Middle Ages in a hall of the University of London before a London public. He gives them free, gratis, in the hope of worming his way into the professorship of aesthetics at the University of London. He delivers them in an abominable English, reading from a manuscript. Received with applause at the beginning of the lecture, he fell through completely in the course of it, so that even the hired claque of Jewish-aesthetic hucksters could not keep him upright. Edgar Bauer, who was there – K. gave his first lecture last Tuesday – has given me a detailed account. It is said to have been really pitiably, wretchedly miserable.