| Author(s) | Friedrich Engels |
|---|---|
| Written | 25 July 1859 |
ENGELS TO MARX
IN LONDON
Manchester, 25 July 1859
Dear Moor,
Have written to Duncker.[1] Also about the total absence up till now of any advertisements of your book[2] in the Augsburg
Allgemeine Zeitung and Kölnische Zeitung. I can't possibly do an article on it this week; it is quite an undertaking and I should have had NOTICE of it somewhat earlier. Besides, I've begun the military article[3] and want to get it finished quickly. However, I promise to do the article for next week.[4]
Some nonsense was edited into my last article. I said that, during the march from Pavia, the 5th corps so exerted itself on the 3rd and 4th[5] that, had the 4'/2 hours lost through the halt been put to use, the result would not have been materially different, nor would the corps have arrived on the battle-field
appreciably earlier. In print it says that it was the halt alone which made that exertion possible, which 1. is just the opposite and 2. is nonsense. In the first place the troops were not in the least tired at 6 o'clock in the morning of the 3rd, having only fust moved off, so that the halt could be of no benefit to them, and secondly the halt deprived them of the cool hours of the morning and forced them to march when the midday heat was at its greatest. To any military man, the sentence as it now stands would seem quite preposterous. Much good all these stylistic improvements do me anyway, if printing errors are responsible for the most egregious nonsense, e.g. rest for thrust (!) and so forth. My articles are particularly distinguished by this kind of nonsense, the remainder being tolerably well corrected.
How, by the way, could you permit Herwegh's lousy poem[6] to be included?
Quanto al danaro,[7] Dronke will be back here again in a fortnight's time (about 10 days from now, that is), so I shall have to put everything off till then. Nor have I any news of Lupus. Where to get money from in the meantime is difficult to say. I'll try Heckscher, but just now I have my hands full and a great deal of my time is taken up with the article on your book. If only Strohn were here! Gumpert is at home, confined to bed with laryngitis and unable to speak. However, I shall see; if at all possible Heckscher will have to keep the paper going this week. But the miserly Freiligrath should certainly be made to cough up.
How funny that you should have obtained so flattering an opinion from Mr Liebknecht too.[8] It's just like these folk. The gentlemen are so used to our doing their thinking for them that invariably and without exception they want to have everything presented to them not only on a platter, but already pre-digested, not only the quintessence in the smallest possible space, but also a detailed exposition, READY COOKED AND DRIED. One is expected to perform miracles, ni plus ni moins.[9] What does an ass of that species really want? As though he couldn't discover for himself from the first 3 lines of the preface that this first instalment was to be followed by at least 15 others before he got to the final conclusions. Naturally, the solutions to ticklish monetary problems, etc., mean nothing whatever to Liebknecht, seeing that such problems simply don't exist for him. But the least one could ask of
such a blockhead is that he should take in at least those few points that happen to suit his book. However, what recks a cow of Sunday?
The Russian document[10] ought not to be reprinted in such short BITS, otherwise one completely loses the thread.[11] Mr Petersen's lucubrations also become tedious in the long run.[12] It's true you were in difficulty last week.
Mr Bonaparte's speeches get ever more comical. The one he made before the diplomatic corps is really too funny.[13] And the fellow kept clapping his hand to his sword all the while! The fool seems quite seriously determined to impose himself on the world as the 'old one',[14] at least so far as le dehors[15] is concerned.
Kossuth has been spreading it about that he's been away in Lussinpiccolo![16]
Many regards.
Your
F. E.