Letter to Elisabeth Engels, July 1, 1869

ENGELS TO ELISABETH ENGELS

IN ENGELSKIRCHEN

Manchester, 1 July 1869 86 Mornington Street, Stockport Road

Dear Mother,

Today is the first day of my freedom, and I cannot use it better than by immediately writing to you. Yesterday I finally reached a settlement with Gottfried Ermen on all the main questions. The draft contract, drawn up by his lawyer, was such that I would never have signed it in that form. I obliged myself not to compete with him in the next five years, i.e., neither to make nor sell bleached, coloured or dressed cotton cloth. That was all right. But his lawyer had set this out in such a way that, if I breached any stipulation, I was obliged, in advance, to pay a penalty rising from £100 to £1,000 for each single instance, so that, in these monetary penalties, I would have had to pay back to G. Ermen more than the £1,750 paid to me, not counting the legal costs. My lawyer advised me strongly not to agree, so we struck out the whole business, nearly half the whole draft. Then there was another point, about the continuation of the firm Ermen & Engels by Gottfried. My lawyer told me that if I explicitly allowed him to do this, then, in the case of insolvency, I could still be regarded as associé^[1] and be held liable. I therefore demanded that my explicit agreement to this should also be limited to 5 years, and this only so long as he himself was an active associé in the firm.

My Gottfried, who was originally very pressing with the negotiations, soon started dragging things out, and once even left the draft at home for 3 weeks without saying anything about it, so only about 3 weeks ago did I receive the 2nd draft contract (which is between G. Ermen, Anton Ermen and me, and governs the arrangement when I leave), and because of the usual lawyers' formalities could only begin to negotiate 8 days ago. In the past few days G. Ermen appeared frequently to avoid me, as though he wished to delay the matter until I was out of the business, when he might hope to deal with me more easily. Only yesterday morning did we get down to negotiations, and then Gottfried gave way on all points, while, for my part, I conceded him that, for 5 years, I would not spin and twine any cotton yarn under No. 40; I would remain free to trade in such yarn as long as it was in the raw condition. This concession has no sort of practical importance for me, and I thus obliged him.

Thus the matter has now been concluded, with the exception of a few legal matters of form, and I think everything could be finished in three weeks; but I am resigned that it might last in to August, since the accounts must be completed, and the lawyers always drag things out so.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the mill with Gottfried and inspected the stores and the reception; afterwards we went to his house, where he served me a bottle of very good Scharzhofberger. He is as glad as I am that the matter is finished, that he is now the sole master of the firm, and that he is not going to have a row with me, since 1. as my lawyer tells me, if I had gone into partnership with my brothers, we would have been able to conduct the firm of Ermen & Engels here too, and we could prohibit him from doing so; 2. he is anyway very much afraid of competition; and 3. it now emerges that he still needs me very much for a time if bad blunders are to be avoided in the business; for this reason, he has invited me to come to the office as often as I like, and has requested me to give the people information from time to time, to which I naturally agreed. He has engaged a young Stuttgarter as correspondent, but he has only been there for 3 weeks and is naturally still very green. He'll have a heavy enough load.

Gottfried is not finished with Charles^[2] either; his notice runs out in 8 days. I am curious whether they will reach an agreement. Five years ago Charles obtained from him a promise to make him managing clerk, but has never received the post; now he is demanding £1,000 compensation for this, but Gottfried will never give it to him.

Neither does he seem to want to keep on Anton as an associé. At least the 2nd draft contract dissolves the partnership with him in just the same manner as with me, and Gottfried would not go to this trouble if he did not intend it that way. On the one hand, Gottfried has realised that Anton is worth absolutely nothing in practical business, i.e., in earning money and, on the other, Anton continually draws so much money behind Gottfried's back, and sends it to his Julie^[3] that Gottfried is apprehensive that he might some day start drawing money directly from the bank as long as he—Anton—has the right to sign. When Anton joined, Gottfried advanced him £500, which represented Anton's capital, but Monsieur Anton, who should leave £250 yearly standing from his emoluments, has not only not done this, but has also squandered the £500 long ago.

My new freedom is just the thing for me. Since yesterday I have been quite a new man, and ten years younger. This morning, instead of going into the gloomy city, I walked in this wonderful weather for a few hours in the fields; and at my desk, in a comfortably furnished room in which you can open the windows without the smoke making black stains everywhere, with flowers on the windowsills and trees in front of the house, one can work quite differently than in my gloomy room in the WAREHOUSE, looking out on to the courtyard of an ale-house. I live ten minutes walk from my club, just far enough away from the German and lodging-house quarters to be sure that I am not overrun. At 5 or 6 in the evening I dine at home, the cooking is really quite good, and then generally go for a few hours to the club to read newspapers, etc. But I shall only be able to organise this properly when I no longer have to go to the city because of the accounts, etc.

But now adieu, dear Mother; give my heartiest greetings to all, and if you have plans to travel let me know, so that I can, if possible, adjust to them; as I am situated at the moment, you should not take me into consideration.

From my heart, your son

Friedrich