The Marx He Knew | Page 6

to help, but Karl was too proud I
suppose to let his trouble be known to us.
III
"It was in the winter of 1847 that I saw him again, in London. For
months all the workingmen's societies had been agitated over the
question of forming an international association with a regular
programme, which Karl had been invited to draw up. A congress was to
be held in London for the purpose of considering Karl's programme and
I was sent by the Cologne comrades as a delegate. All the members
'chipped in' to pay my expenses, and I was very happy to go--happy
because I should see him again.
[Illustration: FREDERICK ENGELS.]
"So I was present at the rooms of the Arbeiterbildungsverein, in Great
Windmill Street, when Karl read the declaration of principles and
programme he had prepared. That was the Communist Manifesto, you
know."
"What! were you really present when that immortal declaration of the
independence of our class was read, Hans?"
"Aye, lad, I was present during all the ten days the congress lasted.
Never, never shall I forget how our Karl read that declaration. Like a
man inspired he was. I, who have heard Bernstein and Niemann and
many another great actor declaim the lines of famous classics, never
heard such wonderful declamation as his. We all sat spellbound and
still as death while he read. Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks, and
not mine alone. When he finished reading there was the wildest
cheering. I lost control of myself and kissed him on both cheeks, again
and again. He liked not that, for he was always ashamed to have a fuss
made over him.

"But Karl--he always insisted that I should call him 'Karl,' as in
boyhood days--had shown us that day his inner self; bared the secret of
his heart, you might say. The workers of all countries must unite--only
just that, unite! And that night, after the long session of the congress,
when he took me away with Engels and a few other friends--I
remember that Karl Pfander was one--he could speak of little else: the
workers must be united somehow, and whoever proposed further
divisions instead of unity must be treated as a traitor.
"Some there were who had not his patience. Few men have, my lad, for
his was the patience of a god. They wanted 'action,' 'action,' 'action,'
and some of them pretended that Karl was just a plain coward, afraid of
action. There was one little delegate, a Frenchman, who tried to get me
to vote against the 'coward Marx'--me that had known Karl since we
were little shavers together, and that knew him to be fearless and
lion-hearted. I just picked the creature up and shook him like a terrier
shakes a rat and he squealed bitterly. I don't think he called Karl a
coward again during the congress.
"Of course, Karl had courage enough for anything. But he was too wise
to imagine that any good could come from a few thousand untrained
workingmen, armed with all sorts of implements, dangerous most to
themselves, challenging the trained hosts of capitalist troops. That was
the old idea of 'Revolution,' you know, and it took more courage to
advocate the long road of patience than it would take to join in a silly
riot. And Karl showed them that, too, by his calm look and scornful
treatment of their cry for 'action.' The way he silenced the noisy
followers of Wilhelm Weitling--who was not a bad fellow, mind--was
simply wonderful to see. Oh, he was a born leader of men, was Karl.
"When the congress was all over, I meant to stay a few days in London
to see the great city. Barbara had a sister living over in Dean street and
so it would cost me nothing to stay. But Karl came to me and begged
me to go back by way of Brussels. He and Engels were returning there
at once, and would like to have me go with them. I didn't want to go at
first, but when Karl said that there were some messages he wanted me
to take back to Cologne, why, of course, I went.

"Ach, what a glorious time we had on that journey to Brussels!
Sometimes Karl and Engels would talk seriously about the great cause,
and I just listened and kept my mouth shut while my ears were wide
open. At other times they would throw off their seriousness as a man
throws off a coat, and then they would tell stories and sing songs, and
of course I joined in. People say--people that never knew the real
Karl--that he was gloomy and sad, that he couldn't smile. I suppose that
is because they never saw the simple Karl that I knew