Marx-Engels Correspondence 1856
Source: MECW Volume 40, p. 12;
First Published: First published in: Marx and Engels, Works, First Russian Edition, Vol. XXII, Moscow, 1929
Translated By: Peter and Betty Ross
Dear Fred,
According to a letter I’ve had from Imandt, Heise is gradually approaching extinction as a result of the undue amount of ‘oil’ he has been pouring on the lamp of life. [In his letter to Marx of 6 February 1856 Imandt wrote that Heise, ill with tuberculosis, was drinking too much whisky.] Imandt himself grumbles a great deal about the Scots, with whom it is impossible to have more than 12 lessons to teach them German, whatever ruses he adopts. The fellows are keen on “grasping” out of avarice.
But the great event, the event which has caused me to send this second epistle following hard on the heels of the first, is the Seiler event. You will recall what the auspices for this Sebastian Sheetanchor [An ironical allusion to Sebaldus Nothanker (literally: Sheetanchor), the hero of Ch. Fr. Nicolai's novel Das Leben und die Meinungen des Henm M agister Sebaldus Nothanker.] looked like when last you were here. The old greengrocer proved rather adamant, and Seiler himself, with the happy instinct characteristic of the man, soon discovered that it would be altogether foolish to lay out some £200 on amortising the past rather than greasing the wheels of the future. So he takes the heroic decision to advise his father-in-law not to pay one single creditor, but rather look on unconcernedly should he be locked up. His intention, then, was to pass through the court of insolvency and, thus purged, start a new career with the old man’s help. This seemed very practical to the old man. Seiler for his part was tempted by the prospect — once initiated into the crapuleuse [lewd] company of the Queen’s Bench[21] — of keeping open board thanks to generous supplies from wife and mother-in-law and, incidentally, of completing his immortal work on Alexander II — consisting of extracts from the Augsburg Allgemeine Zeitung, upon which he has spread an equivocal syrup. The matter was at once put in hand. There began a golden era of farniente [doing nothing] and ‘business errands’ into town. But what was particularly embarrassing was that, despite the warrants taken out against him and despite the ostentatious exhibition of his worthy person in the streets of London, not a single creditor took steps to have Sebastian arrested. The old greengrocer, whose faith in the ‘personality’ of his son-in-law was in no way reinforced by the latter’s inviolability, told him the time had come to vacate the house and withdraw with his wife to a distant cottage. During the actual removal some of the effects were confiscated by vigilant creditors, among them 7 pairs of boots belonging to Sebastian. Sebastian himself took care that there should be no secret about the cottage either, since a quiet and secluded existence with his cabbage of a wife had no place whatsoever in his plans. In short, to such good effect did he intrigue with the cabbage, the mother-in-law and the greengrocer, that it has been decided to despatch him to the ‘New World’ — New York, of course — whither his spouse is to follow him once he has secured a ‘position’. The matter now turns — he is expected to leave this week — on the number of £s he is to take with him for his travelling expenses. He is asking for £60. The greengrocer reckons that half as much will suffice. Sebastian plans, once in America, to extract one 5 pound note after the other from his dear spouse, to pamper his belly, to publish his Kaspar Hauser and Alexander II, and, as a grass widower, never to forego the sweet melancholy of separation from his cabbage. It would be interesting if a creditor did catch him after all. At all events he has succeeded in leaving England too as a ‘financial’ fugitive, only in more respectable circumstances than those attending his departure from Germany, Belgium and Switzerland. His plan was that Pieper should go with him as companion. Pieper had only pretended to fall in with this plan so as to get a share of the 7 pairs of boots, but in the event he was forestalled by the brokers.
Pieper was here one evening not long ago giving lessons to the children when the postman knocked at the door downstairs. A letter for Pieper in a female hand. Invitation to a rendezvous. Since he was unfamiliar with the hand and equally with the signature, he gave himself over to great expectations and passed the letter to my wife to read. From the signature she at once recognised our ex-nurse, the fat old Irish slattern, who cannot write herself and therefore had the letter written by a third hand. You can imagine how we teased Fridolin [Marx ironically compares Wilhelm Pieper with Fridolin, a character from Schiller’s ballad Der Gang nach dem Eisenhammer.] with our laughter. But he kept his rendezvous with the cow. Such, then, are his adventures. O King Visvamitra, what an ox you are! [H. Heine, ‘Den Konig Wiswamitra...’ (from Buck der Lieder, ‘Die Heimkehr’).]
Don’t forget the Pan-Slavism.[11]
Salut.
Your
K. M.