Dear Marx,

Yesterday Hess gave me your letter. As far as the translations are concerned, the whole thing has not been organised at all yet. In Bonn I wanted to have Fourier translated by some people there under my eye and my direction, naturally omitting the cosmogonic nonsense,[?*] and, if the publisher were agreeable, to bring the thing out as the first section of such a library. I spoke about it in passing with Blaedeker, the publisher of the Gesellschaftsspiegel, and he seemed to take rather a liking to it, though he does not have the funds for a larger library. If, however, we bring the thing out in this form, it will certainly be better to give it to Leske or someone else who can also put some money into it. As for translating the things myself, I absolutely have no time this summer, as I must finish off the English pieces. The first thing¹ went off to Wigand this week, and since I stipulated with him that he is to pay me 100 talers upon receipt of the manuscript, I expect to receive the money in 8–12 days and to be able to send it to you. In the meantime fr. 122.22 c. payable on 26 March lie in Brussels.

Herewith the remainder of the subscriptions; if the thing had not been so abominably delayed by the Elberfeld people, who could have scraped together at least another twenty talers from their amis-bourgeois,⁶ it would have come sooner and to a larger amount.

To return to the library, I do not know whether the historical sequence of the things would be the best. Since Frenchmen and Englishmen would have to alternate with one another, the coherence of development would be continually interrupted. Besides, I believe it would be better to sacrifice the theoretical interest in this to practical effectiveness and to begin with the things which provide the most material for the Germans and stand closest to our principles; thus, the best things by Fourier, Owen, the Saint-Simonists, etc. — Morelly

¹ “The Condition of the Working Class in England” — ² the words “fr.122.22c. per 26. März. auf Brüssel” were added by Stephan Adolf Naut —⁶ bourgeois friends

could also come fairly near the front. The historical development could be given quite briefly in the introduction to the whole, and in this way everyone would easily find their bearings with such an arrangement. We could make the introduction together — you take France, I take England; perhaps that could be done already if, as I intend, I come over in 3 weeks — at least we could discuss the thing —, but in any case it seems to me absolutely necessary to begin right from the outset with things that have a practical, striking effect on the Germans and spare us saying once more what others have said before us. If we wanted to give a source-book on the history of socialism, or rather the history in and through the sources, then, I fear, we should not finish the thing for a long time and would become tedious into the bargain. For this reason I am in favour of giving only such things whose positive content is still to be used, at least for the most part, today. Godwin’s Political Justice would, as a critique of politics from the political and bourgeois-social standpoint, be omitted, despite the many capital things in which Godwin touches on communism, since you will, after all, be giving the complete critique of politics. All the more so as at the end of his work Godwin arrives at the result that man must emancipate himself as far as possible from society and use it only as a luxury article (Political Justice, II, Book 8, Appendix to Chapter 8) and is, generally speaking, so decidedly anti-social in his results. I excerpted the book, incidentally, a very long time ago, when I was still badly in the dark, and must in any case go through it once more, for which reason it is quite possible that there is more in the thing than I found in it at the time. If we do take Godwin, however, we must not omit his supplement, Bentham, although that fellow is terribly tedious and theoretical. — Write to me about this, and then we shall look further into what is to be done. Since this idea has occurred to both of us, it must in any case be carried through — I mean the library. Hess will certainly participate with pleasure, and I will do likewise as soon as I have any time — Hess has it, since at the moment, apart from editing the Gesellschaftsspiegel, he has nothing in hand. — If we are agreed on the basis, then, when I come over there — which I shall press all the more on account of this matter — we can settle the thing completely and set to work at once.

The “Critical Critique”* — I believe I already wrote you that it

* “The Holy Family”

has arrived — is quite capital. Your expositions on the Jewish question, the history of materialism, and the mystères are splendid and will have an outstanding effect. But for all that, the thing is too big. The sovereign contempt with which we both confront the Litteratur-Zeitung forms a stark contrast to the 22 sheets we devote to it. Besides, most of the critique of speculation and of abstract essence generally will remain unintelligible to the larger public and will not be of general interest. Other than that, the whole book is splendidly written and makes one split one’s sides laughing. The Bauers will not be able to say a word. Bürger, by the way, if he reviews it in the first issue of Püttmann’s thing,¹¹ can incidentally mention the reason why I worked on only a little of it, and only that which could be written without going more deeply into the matter — my brief ten-day stay in Paris. It looks comical in any case that I have perhaps 1½ sheets in it and you more than 20. The part about the “whore conditions” you would have done better to strike out. It is too little and too totally insignificant.

It is remarkable how, apart from the library, I have also coincided with you in another plan. I, too, wanted to write a critique of List² for Püttmann — fortunately I learnt of your intention through Püttmann early enough. Since I intended, moreover, to grasp List practically, to develop the practical consequences of his system, I shall work out somewhat further¹² one of my Elberfeld speeches (the proceedings are being printed in Püttmann’s thing), in which I did this, among other things, in brief — I presume in any case, from Bürger’s letter to Hess and from your personality, that you will engage more with his presuppositions than with his consequences.

I am leading a veritable dog’s life now. As a result of the meeting affairs and the “dissoluteness” of several of our local Communists, with whom I naturally associate, my old man’s whole religious fanaticism has been reawakened, intensified by my declaration that I am giving up the huckstering for good — and alongside this a splendid bourgeois fanaticism has developed in him through my open appearance as a Communist. Just picture my position. Since I am going away in a fortnight or so, I do not want to start any brawl; I let everything wash over me — they are not accustomed to that, and so their courage grows. If I receive a letter, it is sniffed at from all sides before I get it. Since they know

⁵ see present volume, p. 11

that they are all Communist letters, each time a godly, doleful face is put on, to the point where one thinks one will go mad. If I go out, the same face. If I sit in my room and work — Communism, of course, they know that — the same face. I cannot eat, drink, sleep, let out a fart, without the same accursed Sunday-school face in front of my nose. Whether I go out or stay at home, keep silent or speak, read or write, laugh or not, no matter what I do, my old man immediately puts on this infamous grimace. On top of that, my old man is so stupid that he throws Communism and Liberalism into the same box as “revolutionary” and, for instance, continually holds me responsible, despite all protestations to the contrary, for the infamies of the English bourgeoisie in Parliament! And now, anyway, the pious season is here in the house. A week ago today two of my siblings were confirmed,⁶ today the whole clan are trooping off to communion — the body of the Lord has had its effect, the doleful faces this morning surpassed everything. Pour comble de malheur I was in Elberfeld last night with Hess, where we lectured on Communism until two o’clock. Naturally, long faces today about my coming home late, hints that I must have been in the lock-up. At last they pluck up the courage to ask where I have been. — At Hess’s. — “At Hess’s! Great God!” — — Pause, an increase in Christian despair in the face — — “What company you have chosen for yourself!” — Sighing, etc. It is enough to drive one quite mad. You have no idea of the malice of this Christian hunt after my “soul”. On top of that, my old man only needs to discover that the “Critical Critique” exists, and he is capable of throwing me out of the house. And along with this the continual vexation of seeing that with these people nothing at all helps, that they are determined, quite flatly, to torment and torture themselves with their fantasies of hell, that one cannot even bring home to them the most leathery principles of fairness. Were it not for my mother, who has a fine fund of humanity and simply no independence vis-à-vis my father, and whom I really love, it would not occur to me for a moment to make even the wretchedest concession to my fanatical and despotic old man. But as it is, my mother worries herself sick every moment anyway, and every time she is specifically annoyed about me she has headaches for eight days — it is no longer bearable, I must get away and hardly know how I shall hold out for the few weeks I am still here. But that too will manage.

⁶ Hedwig and Rudolf Engels —⁷ To heap up the misfortune

Otherwise there is nothing new here. The bourgeoisie are politicking and going to church, the proletariat are doing — we know not what, and can hardly know. The address to which your last letter went is still safe for the time being. This evening I hope to get the money — Köttgen has just assured me that, as soon as he has a little more time — in a couple of days — he will still be able to raise a little something. I do not quite trust the thing, though; K–öttgen is at hand where he can show off, but otherwise he is good for nothing and does nothing. Adios.

Your
E.
Barmen, 17 March ’45