| Author(s) | Jenny von Westphalen |
|---|---|
| Written | 30 January 1870 |
My dear Doctor,
I write these lines to tell you why Moor has not answered your letters. Since about three weeks he has had carbuncles under his arm, which were so painful that poor Moor was unable to move his arm. Twice the doctor cut them.[1] This operation brought with it almost instantaneous relief. At the present moment I am happy to say, our dear patient is almost well again, though of course he still feels very weak, the necessary effect of the great strains he has suffered. Now that it is over I think it is a good thing the illness came to a crisis as Moor had been tormented by it for months past—you will remember he was anything but well at Hanover and in that state he continued up to the present time—sometimes a little better, sometimes worse.
Your correspondence with Jacoby amused him much.[2] To judge from that venerable gentleman's rambling answer, your letter to him must have hit pretty hard.
I have also to acknowledge the receipt of your letter to myself—the contents of which surprised me not a little and have made me very anxious to hear the final decision of the Philistines of the Künstler-Verein.[3] Considering that this Verein is composed of the cream of Hanoverian society, the 'cultivation' of the Upper Classes, on the strength of which they consider themselves so much superior to the Working Classes, certainly is something to be mightily proud of! The only pity is that these blockheads have succeeded in annoying you and in robbing you of so much time.
I must ask you and dear Trautchen[4] to forgive me for not having before this informed you of the advent of a little stranger in Lafargue's family. On the second of January Paul announced to us the arrival of a girl in the rue du Cherche-Midi. She is exactly a year older than her brother,[5] the birthdays of the children being on the same day.[6] A few days ago Laura wrote us that she is much stronger.
Her letter was accompanied by a most interesting lot of French journals—the Marseillaise, Cloche, Réforme, Rappel and Pays. These journals give one a capital idea of the present state of France. The hubbub and excitement prevailing in the capital are incredible. All parties, nay all individuals are at loggerheads. Rochefort is at daggers drawn with his quondam friends and supporters Vermorel, Villemessant etc. etc. whom he openly denounces as mouchards[7] and they again in their organ, the Figaro, return tit for tat. As for the Bancel, Gambetta, Pelletans, Favres etc., that tribe of big-mouthed spouters of sonorous phrases have altogether vanished—they are no-where. Experience has taught the people what they have to expect from the bragging 'gauche'.[8] Not one of them dared to show his face at Victor Noir's[9] funeral or to raise his voice in the Chambers. Rochefort, supported by brave old Raspail, has annihilated them—doomed them to a living death. Whatever Liebknecht may say to the contrary,[10] Rochefort reigns supreme at Paris, and the wisdom of his conduct in preventing a collision with the military on the day of the interment is now apparent to all. Were Liebknecht to read the Pays, he would see that Cassagnac and consequently the Government do not disguise their rage at the fact—'que le peuple ne savait pas mourir pour ses convictions', 'qu'ils n'ont pas élevé dans l'air le drapeau rouge'.[11] Formerly, shrieks the ferocious clown Cassagnac:
'les révolutionnaires étaient des hommes de coeur, des hommes de principes qui se battaient pour des idées, et qui savaient bien que ni canons, ni fusils, ni bayonettes ne tiendraient devant la poitrine nue du peuple qui réclame son droit'.[12]
These 'naked breasts' would indeed have been a feast for the cannons and chassepots[13] of the Man of December,[14] the more so, stationed as they were on the outskirts of Paris, where barricades could not be erected and where consequently the 100,000 soldiers would not, as in the narrow streets of Paris, have been exposed to a hand to hand scuffle with the people.— Then the Volksstaat also gives an incorrect account of the strike at Creuzot.[15] It is not true that the workmen demand higher wages and a diminution of the hours of labour. They simply requested to have the management of their sick fund in their own hands and not in those of M. Schneider, further that their fellow-workman Assy should not be sent away and that an under-master who had oppressed them, should be dismissed. These are the true causes of the strike. The French Government and the official press declare them to be due à l'excitation artificielle.[16] M. Gérault, of the Opinion Nationale, montre les sociétés secrètes dominant, donnant des mots d'ordre et des consignes.[17] These societies are, of course, the International, from which Assy, the leader of the strike, is said to have received 55,000 frs. The Times reprints these statements and endorses them.[18] Would they were true! It is a thousand pities the International cannot keep pace in its doings with the brilliant imaginings of these worthies.
It is a significant fact that some of the soldiers sent to Creuzot at once fraternized with the miners. Four of these soldiers are to be tried for having attempted to enlist their comrades in the people's cause.
In Yorkshire a strike has also taken place, the workmen claiming the management of their own sick fund and protesting against the refusal of the Employers to allow the men to combine. As ever since the year 1824 the right of combination has been legalised in England, the masters are in fact acting in direct opposition to the laws of the country, notwithstanding which the Government supplies them with soldiers to do their bidding.
The particulars of the strike are exactly those of Creuzot—free constitutional England and despot-ridden France—do not differ—both countries have soldiers ready at hand to shoot down the men who have the courage to assert that they think they have intelligence enough to manage their own funds—their hard earned savings.
According to an estimate made by a worksperson to one of the English papers, staying at Creuzot—the workmen lose by the strike 8,000£ a day (wages) whilst the loss to the masters is about 40,000£!! a day.
Will you please give my best love to Trautchen and thank her for her letter. I will write to her very soon. Please also tell her that I must call upon her to hand over a certain little bracelet to 'Käuzchen',[19] for whom it was destined. As she is a sworn foe of the Communists, she will know to appreciate my respect for private property. But joking apart I really should not like to see the bracelet on Trautchen's arm—it is rather too 'primitive'.
With Moor's kindest regards to the Frau Gräfin,[20] Käuzchen und an den Mann von der plastischen Bewegung.[21]
I remain very sincerely yours
Jenny Marx