Letter to Paul Lafargue, December 5, 1892

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To Paul Lafargue at Le Perreux

London, December 5, 1892

My dear Lafargue,

Your remarks concerning Bebel compel me to refer back to your letter from Lille. What you say about him is unfair in the extreme. Far from Liebknecht correcting Bebel on any matter whatsoever (an amusing idea to anyone who understands the situation), it’s precisely the contrary that is taking place. It is Liebknecht who is promising wonders, and if the whole thing doesn’t collapse and dissolve, it’s thanks to the work Bebel is doing. If Liebknecht said only agreeable things to you at Marseilles, don’t forget that this is how he behaves with everyone; that he always acts on the impulse of the moment and that consequently he says white here today, but tomorrow somewhere else he will say black, and he will maintain in all good faith that he has not contradicted himself. You complain about the Berlin resolution concerning May 1st, well and good, according to our German press, Liebknecht is reported to have said that at Marseilles he explained the position to you, including the impossibility for the Germans to stop work on May 1st; and that ‘the French’ had fully acknowledged the force of his arguments. If that is true, by what right do you complain of the Berlin resolution? If Liebknecht has erred (for he believes what he says), what have you to say of the man who, according to you, ‘corrects’ Bebel?

I fear that behind all this lies the dissatisfaction of our Oxford hermit. If his impulsive nature makes him unjust to Bebel, who is an ironic and business-like character, the heat he is generating during his compulsory activity in the heart of the only city in the world where the Middle Ages continue in full swing, will drive this aversion to the point of hatred. As it is, I never get a letter from him which does not teem with abuse of Bebel. I grant all that, I give full recognition to the hermit’s good faith and goodwill, but firstly an enthusiast of that kind is a dangerous guide in matters of practical life, particularly when he lives in the isolation of Oxford, consumed by the desire to do something for the movement. And it’s not just something to do that he needs, but positively something important and decisive. You know how he pestered us over the paper. The day before yesterday he sent me a veritable ultimatum in the name of the French Party (he always speaks in its collective name) addressed to the German Party: if the Germans at Zurich propose the postponing of the May celebrations to the first Sunday, the French will withdraw from the demonstration altogether, and there will be, if not war, at least something like the breaking off of diplomatic relations—and goodness knows what else. Anyhow he warns the Germans ‘that they are playing with fire’. However, his French logic allows him to add that if the English insist on demonstrating on the Sunday, the French would see no harm in it!

I answered him fairly ironically that I would communicate his ultimatum to Bebel, but only as his personal opinion.

Naturally I don’t take Bonnier’s explosions for the attitude of the French Party; on the contrary, even if you authorised him I should not do so; I know him to be quite incapable—with the best will in the world—of expressing other people’s ideas and words without putting in his own. He can’t help it; like Liebknecht, he only knows two shades, black and white; he either loves or hates; and as he cannot love Bebel, he needs must hate him. But you would be monstrously wrong to form your view of the German movement according to his. Laura being in the country cannot gainsay all the gossip about the Germans, and it’s a great pity that he is the only one of you all who understands German.

Have you seen his ‘Moment’? There are poems in it (Heine’s Poesiemusik, die Instrumental- und Vokalpoesie die keine Musik ist), poems on Germany; that “unfathomable” and extremely chaotic Germany which has never existed outside Victor Hugo’s imagination. The Germany which was supposed to be interested only in music, dreams and clouds, and which left the care of matters here below to the French bourgeois and journalists. This good fellow would but speak of oaks, of forests, of students with scars on the face, of Gretchen and other playthings—and this after having lived in a country which is today the most prosaic and workaday in the world. Do read all that, and if then you believe a single word of what he has to say about Germany, it will be your fault.

Besides, you may remember that recently, as you needed documents with respect to Liebknecht, it was Bebel who immediately set himself to work for you, while Liebknecht—though it concerned him closely—would but confine himself to sending several newspapers to you.

Enough of that. Had it not been to destroy the false judgements about the most perspicacious, the most sensible and the most energetic man in the German party, I would not have written to you at such length. I wanted to write about Panama, but here is the bottom of the 4^th page—and so I shall write about that to Laura.

Ever yours,

F. Engels