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From the archive
The life of Marx
September 21 1911
Wednesday September 21, 2005
Guardian
Karl Marx: His Life and Work, by John Spargo (National Labour
Press, Manchester, 8s 6d):
It is curious that this should be the first biography of Marx ever
written, and still more curious that it should be written in English.
John Spargo, a Marxian Socialist well-known in the US, has explored
with industry the copious available sources, and gleaned what he could
from persons who knew Marx in the flesh. Marx is to him not only a
master-teacher but a heroic personality, and if we have any quarrel
with his book it is that he makes it too little a study of his mental
development and too much an account of the details, commonly petty or
disappointing, of his external career.
Admiration for Marx on the personal side requires much qualification.
He had the egotism of genius, pardonable perhaps but very unbeautiful.
Everybody else was sacrificed to his idea. His wife's life with him
was one long squalid martyrdom. Of his six children, three died
practically of privation. The ugliness and meanness of his 34 years'
London life in the dingiest of furnished apartments and decaying
stucco streets cannot be counted to him only for righteousness; it was
not a thought-out asceticism or a voluntary effort to come near the
workers; it was unredeemed poverty, for the most part wilfully imposed
on himself and his family for no other reason than that he preferred
studying in the British Museum to earning a proper living.
No less unpleasant is the picture of his dealings with friends. Saving
Engels only, there is hardly a person in Mr Spargo's pages with whom
he did not bitterly quarrel. It is no good for Mr Spargo to enlarge on
his charm and lovableness with such a record against him. Equally hard
is it to tell a flattering tale of his achievements in politics. How
he failed to influence English Labour leaders may be seen from the
fact that after he had been over 30 years in England Mr Hyndman and
others could "discover" him and his doctrines as something
unheard of. When he died in London in 1883 "only a small handful
of mourners gathered round the grave".
Marx's greatness depends not on what he did, but on what he
thought and wrote. The cutting edge of his mind made him disagreeable
and unpractical to deal with, but it also made him a revealer of
wonderful suggestiveness in the domain of theory.