The Marx He Knew

The Marx He Knew, by John
Spargo

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Title: The Marx He Knew
Author: John Spargo
Release Date: March 4, 2007 [EBook #20743]
Language: English
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The Marx He Knew
[Illustration: KARL MARX.]

The Marx He Knew

BY JOHN SPARGO
Author of "The Bitter Cry of the Children," "Socialism, A Summary
and Interpretation of Socialist Principles," "The Common Sense of
Socialism," "Karl Marx: His Life and Work," Etc., Etc., Etc.

CHICAGO CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 1909

Copyright, 1909
BY CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY

TO MADAME LAURA LAFARGUE DAUGHTER OF KARL
MARX

List of Illustrations
KARL MARX, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
HIS BIRTHPLACE AT TRIER, FROM AN OLD PRINT 10
JOHANNA BERTHA JULIE VON WESTPHALEN, FROM A
PAINTING FROM LIFE 19
FREDERICK ENGELS, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 32

FERDINAND LASSALLE, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 47
THE MARX FAMILY GRAVE, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 83

THE MARX HE KNEW
I
The pale, yellow light of the waning day streamed through the dusty
window panes of the little cigar shop, and across the bench where old
Hans Fritzsche worked and hummed the melody of Der Freiheit the
while.
The Young Comrade who sat in the corner upon a three-legged stool
seemed not to hear the humming. His eyes were fixed upon a large
photograph of a man which hung in a massive oak frame above the
bench where Old Hans rolled cigars into shape. The photograph was
old and faded, and the written inscription beneath it was scarcely
legible. The gaze of the Young Comrade was wistful and reverent.
"Tell me about him, Hans," he said at last.
Old Hans stopped humming and looked at the Young Comrade. Then
his eyes wandered to the portrait and rested upon it in a gaze that was
likewise full of tender reverence.
Neither spoke again for several seconds and only the monotonous
ticking of the clock upon the wall broke the oppressive silence.
"Ach! he was a wonderful man, my comrade," said Old Hans at length.
"Yes, yes, he was a wonderful man--one of the most wonderful men
that ever lived," responded the Young Comrade in a voice that was
vibrant with religious enthusiasm.
Both were silent again for a moment and then the Young Comrade
continued: "Yes, Marx was a wonderful man, Hans. And you knew

him--saw him smile--heard him speak--clasped his hand--called him
comrade and friend!"
"Aye, many times, many times," answered Old Hans, nodding.
"Hundreds of times did we smoke and drink together--me and him."
"Ah, that was a glorious privilege, Hans," said the Young Comrade
fervently. "To hear him speak and touch his hand--the hand that wrote
such great truths for the poor working people--I would have gladly died,
Hans. Why, even when I touch your hand now, and think that it held
his hand so often, I feel big--strong--inspired."
"Ach, but my poor old hand is nothing," answered Old Hans with a
deprecating smile. "Touching the hand of such a man matters nothing at
all, for genius is not contagious like the smallpox," he added.
"But tell me about him, Hans," pleaded the Young Comrade again.
"Tell me how he looked and spoke--tell me everything."
"Well, you see, we played together as boys in the Old Country, in
Treves. Many a time did we fight then! Once he punched my eye and
made it swell up so that I could hardly see at all, but I punched his nose
and made it bleed like--well, like a pig."
"What! you made him bleed?"
"Ach! that was not much; all boys fight so."
"Well?"
"My father was a shoemaker, you see, and we lived not far away from
where Karl's people lived. Many a time my father sent me to their
house--on the Bruckergrasse--with mended shoes. Then I would see
Karl, who was just as big as I was, but not so old by a year. Such a fine
boy! Curly-headed he was, and fat--like a little barrel almost.
[Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF KARL MARX.]
"So, when I took the shoes sometimes I would stop and play with him a

bit--play with Karl and the girls. He was always playing with
girls--with his sister, Sophie, and little Jenny von Westphalen.
"Sometimes I liked it not so--playing with girls. They were older than
we boys