Manchester, 8 November 1855 
34 Butler Street, Green Keys 

Dear Elsner, 

I have received both your letters, the first somewhat belatedly 

because my wife accidentally delayed sending it on to Manchester. 
After receiving your first letter I thought you had resigned from 
the Neue Oder-Zeitung and for that reason at once ceased to send 
any articles. When your second letter arrived I was suffering from 
such a Fit of toothache—which persisted until a few days 
ago—that I could no more write than I could hear or see. 

I passed on your letter of 7 October not only to friends but also 
to adversaries, and the latter seemed thoroughly taken aback. That 
I and my friends are in no way affected by the dogmas of Messrs 
Temme and Simon of Breslau you will readily believe without any 
further assurance from me. 

I do not see Hoyoll, but Lupus does—from time to time. 
Patriotism has led this Hoyoll to introduce the Breslauer Zeitung 
into the Athenaeum”** here, a circumstance which threatens to 
drive our little Wolff* out of what is virtually the only home of the 
Muses in Manchester. 

I have conveyed your greetings to Borchardt, whom I know 
well. Borchardt maintains a regular and intimate correspondence 
with Citizen Simon of Breslau. Upon his first asking me whether I 
knew that the N. O.-Z. lived in sin with the constitutionals, I 
replied: ‘Qu’est ce que ca me fait?” Don’t you know that, in my view, 
constitutionals and democrats, at least of the Prussian variety, are 
all much of a muchness? And is a distinction now to be drawn 
between democrats who have accepted one royal imposition while 
rejecting another and those who, having submitted to the one, also 
submit to the other? The N. O.-Z. expresses the most extreme 
views possible in the present condition of the Press. What more do 
you ask?’ 

I have had letters from particularly well-informed people in 
Paris. According to them, the Empire’s stock is sinking lower and 

4 Wilhelm Wolff - > What’s that to me? 

lower. In the faubourgs the slogan, ‘Celui-ci s’en ira* is said to be 
on everyone’s lips. Indeed, the gravity of the situation may be 
deduced from two puatic Facts: the speech made by Rouland, the 
procurateur-général,” and Granier de Cassagnac’s article in the 
Constitutionnel, ‘Sur les terreurs de la Révolution future’.© The 
probability of the latter is beyond doubt even to Mr Granier. 

As for the scandal here over the ‘refugee question’ (Jersey, etc.), 
there’s more smoke to it than fire.* Pusuic opinion has definitely 
turned against the covernment and, in fact, I believe that this was 
allowed for in the latter’s calculations. So crassly, with such 
tragi-comical mouthings, did they accede to Bonaparte’s first 
demands, as virtually to demonstrate that further concessions were 
not within the power of an English government. Had they been in 
earnest, they would have shown themselves more adroit and not 
have carried out the grotesque coup so long before the opening of 
Parliament. Palmerston, or course, has no love for the refugees, but 
regards them as wind-bags to be kept to hand so that he may 
occasionally threaten the Continent with a ‘Quos ego!’* His 
ministerial position, by the by, is exceedingly precarious. But it will 
still be difficult to unseat the old fox. 

When you next write, kindly send your letter to my old address, 
28 Dean Street, Soho, London, since I don’t know how long J shall 
be remaining here, and letters sent to the above address will in 
any case come into the hands of my wife. Ronge is running 
kindergartens in London along with his wife; Kinkel, no less than 
Johanna,° hopes that the revolution will not be unduly precipitate; 
in Brighton, Ruge gives an occasional lecture, leading the English 
to believe that the German language is the most debased of all; 
Tausenau, Meyen et tutti quanti’ abuse the French émigré ‘riff-raff’ 
(not excluding Victor Hugo) for imperilling the ‘right of asylum’ 
of these ‘officially authorised conspirators’. 

Engels and Lupus send you their warmest regards. I haven’t 
seen Borchardt for a fortnight. 

Yours 
K. M.