| Author(s) | Friedrich Engels |
|---|---|
| Written | 21 May 1889 |
ENGELS TO KARL KAUTSKY
IN VIENNA
London, 21 May 1889
Dear Kautsky,
At last a few minutes in which to write to you. The damned congress and everything connected with it has taken up all my time for the past 3 months; there's the devil of a lot of writing, running about and slaving to do, and nothing comes of it but vexation, trouble and strife. At St Gallen,[1] our worthy Germans imagined, as they have done ever since, that they only had to convoke a congress for it to happen—jehi ôr, vajehi ôr[2] (get Adler to tell you what that means). Having themselves got over their internal quarrels, they imagined that love and friendship, peace and harmony, prevailed throughout the socialist world, and it never occurred to them that convoking a congress would mean either submitting to the Brousse-Hyndman alliance or else combating it. Now, however, having had ample experience they still seem to be somewhat in the dark and flat- ter themselves with dreams of the merger of both congresses at the instant of meeting; thus they abjure the only mode of combat capable of bringing this about, namely snarling defiance at Brousse and Hyndman. Anyone who knows anything about these men is aware that they will only cede to force and regard every concession as a sign of weakness. Instead, Liebknecht demands that we treat them considerately, not only handling them with kid gloves but even going so far as to give them a helping hand. Liebknecht has made a mess of the whole business. The Hague Conference, described over here as a caucus[3] by Hyndman because he wasn't invited (which in itself was a stupidity), could, in the absence of the Possibilists, only acquire significance and become some- thing more than a caucus if other signatures—those of the Austrians, Scandinavians, etc.—had been secured after the event. That would also have brought pressure to bear on the Belgians. Nothing of the kind, indeed nothing whatsoever, was done; the Hague business, which had been a good start, was also, it seemed, to be the finish. Well, after the Possibilists' refusal, the Belgians dragged their feet, refused to reply and eventually said that they wanted to leave the decision to their congress on 21 April.[4] Instead of sending somebody to force the Belgians to give a prompt yes or no and then induce the others to act accordingly, they allowed everything to slide. Liebknecht made commemorative speches in Switzerland[5] and, when we let fly over here—at a crucial moment so far as this country was concerned—, he began to fume, alleging that we had infringed the secrecy agreed upon in regard to the Hague resolu- tions[6] (secrecy it would have been madness to observe after the Possibilists' refusal, and of which, moreover, we knew nothing), that we had frustrated, etc., his move to bring the Possibilists over to our side over the heads of Brousse, etc. (!). And when, at our instigation, the English—discontented Trades Unionists[7] —, sought information from Belgium, Holland, Germany and Denmark about the position as regards our congress, they got nothing but vague, noncommittal replies and, needless to say, came down in favour of the men who knew their own minds, the Possibilists. So months were spent dithering and dawdling while the Possibilists swamped the whole world with their circulars, until in the end people lost patience, even in the German camp, and insisted on attendance at the Possibilist congress.[8] This made its mark and, 24 hours after we over here had told the French that the resolutions of the Belgian congress[9] had set them at liberty to do as they pleased, and that they, too, could convoke their congress for the 14th of July,— 24 hours later, up comes Liebknecht with this self-same and hitherto so hotly contested proposal. The fact of the matter is that, if he is to be capable of reaching a bold decision, he must first get himself into a complete and utter mess.
But now it is, in many ways, too late. Over here the battle has been lost all along the line because we were left in the lurch at the crucial moment. People who sympathised with us could count themselves lucky to be selected—to go to the other, Possibilist congress. In Belgium, thanks to those intriguers in Brussels, the Possibilists have all but gained the upper hand; Anseele, in other respects a good chap, seems anxious to avoid a breach with the Brussels lot. And even the Danes seem to be wavering, and they'll be followed by the Swedes and Norwegians, who admittedly do not yet count for very much, but nevertheless represent 2 nations. When one considers the way in which Liebknecht has so utterly compromised, if not actually in part ruined, the magnificent international position enjoyed by the Germans, it's enough to drive one mad.
Close alliance with the Austrians; the Americans up till now merely a branch of the German party; the Danes, Swedes, Norwegians and Swiss as it were offshoots of the Germans; the Dutch a reliable inter- mediary for the West; add to that, German colonies everywhere and the non-Possibilist French almost wholly dependent on their alliance with the Germans; likewise the Slav colonies and refugees in the West, who have also been gravitating towards the Germans ever since the fiasco of the anarchists:—what a magnificent position it is! And all this placed in jeopardy by Liebknecht's illusion that he only has to open his mouth for all Europe to dance to his tune, and that, unless he gives the order to advance, the enemy won't do anything either. And, thanks to Bebel's comprehensible but most regrettable ignorance of foreign affairs, Liebknecht has had a pretty free hand. If things go wrong, it will be he who is to blame because of his failure to do anything (save intrigue) and his failure to make a public stand between the time of the Possibilists' refusal early in March and the Belgian congress on 22 April.
However, I think all may yet be well, provided we all of us pull together. If we can win over the Danes, we shall carry the day—but it so happens that it's only from Germany—i.e. through Liebknecht—that influence can be brought to bear on them. Yet it's absolutely maddening that we should have got into this frightful predicament at all, when swift action in March and early April must have secured us the whole of Europe. The Possibilists acted, whereas Liebknecht not only failed to act, but also made it impossible for anyone else to do so—the French might not lift a finger, come to any decision, issue a circular or convoke a congress—until it finally dawned on him that for the past six weeks the Brussels people had been leading him by the nose and that the effect of the Possibilists' activities, in contrast to his own masterly inactivity, was to make his own Germans desert him. And on top of all that there was the business of that scoundrel Schlesinger.[10] He, Liebknecht, has appealed to my better feelings, saying that the least public move might ruin him, load him with debts to the tune of 6,000 marks and force him to emigrate to America. In these circumstances I shall wait—or so I think just now at any rate—until the whole thing has been published, and then see what ought to be done. However, the business is most compromising so far as he's concerned, and if he imagines he can simply get away with allowing his name to be attached to anything so unsavoury, he's in for a surprise. Would you be so kind as to send me the next instalments? The rascal's overweening arrogance is only matched by his crass ignorance. You're perfectly right; if Liebknecht's name didn't feature on it, it would simply be a joke.
What is Louise doing? Is she still busily engaged in helping to multi- ply the human species? I trust she is well and happy and that she got through her last exam.[11] Nim and I send her our love. Presumably she will now be able to take a bit of a rest.
I have had to give up smoking because of its effect on my nerves and more especially on my heart, which is otherwise very sound. I have also got to cut down my drinking a lot, its effect being more marked when the nerves are disordered. I am taking sulphonal to help me sleep, and spend a lot of time in the open air in Hampstead and Highgate. That, too, is time-consuming. If only the damned congress were over, so that one didn't have to plough through so many newspapers; it prevents me from doing anything else and, when I do at last get round to some sensi- ble reading, my eyes are too tired and I have to turn to some other occu- pation. The doctor tells me my eyes won't ever be quite right again, though it's nothing serious, only a constant nuisance—i.e. having to restrict the time I spend reading and writing.
Tussy now uses a machine with keys for writing with. Kindest regards from Nim and
Your
F. E.