London, 16 April 1892 

Dear August, 

I must say it was a damnable disappointment when your telegram 
arrived. Well, illness is something that can’t be helped, and I only 
hope you had so far recovered as to manage the journey all right and 
that you are now enjoying the benefits of the mountain air. On the 
other hand you’re now duty-bound to bring Mrs Julie* with you in 
May — something towards which I have done my bit in the enclosed 
note which I beg you to endorse in the strongest terms. 

As regards the Parisians, two men turned up here before your letter 
had arrived. I arranged for them to come again the next day, Wed- 
nesday,” for I felt sure your letter would have arrived by then. When 
it came, I went to see Julius © and Louise went to see one of the men — 
somewhere at the back of beyond — but found no one and left a writ- 
ten message. At last, on Thursday evening, one of them turned up 
(the other having already departed on Wednesday morning), told me 
that, because of certain circumstances, the matter had been post- 
poned, and said they hoped to manage without the assistance of you 
people to whom they would have recourse only in case of extreme 
need. We'll discuss it further when you come over. It isn’t urgent.*°° 

Why, on leaving St Gallen, you should first want to return to the 
imperial sand box,* we cannot understand. Once there, you’ll resume 
your drudgery, day after day will go by and your health will begin to 
suffer again, whereupon the doctor will come and you'll be uncere- 
moniously bundled off to Karlsbad ° after all. I’m a passionate advo- 
cate of Karlsbad — for other people that is, not for myself— because 
I saw how it put Marx to rights again; had he been able to take 
advantage of it eight years earlier, he might still be alive today. It is 
wonderfully effective for all disorders of the stomach and liver and 
I would strongly advise you to take these capital waters (capital be- 
cause it yields physiological surplus value for you and economic sur- 

* Julie Bebel - b 43 April -° Motteler-? Berlin -° Karlovy Vary 

plus value for the landlords of Karlsbad) for 4 or 6 weeks in June, 
when Dr Fleckles, Marx’s and Tussy’s friend — she will tell you about 
him — will provide what other entertainment you need; he is one of 
the wittiest men in Europe. 

I should have written to you before, but in order to avoid odious 
slander, I have had to write a most odious foreword.’ It’s a typical 
English affair. Aveling translates my Entwicklung des Sozialismus for 
a Socia, Series of which each volume costs 2.50 marks. I say it’s 
a swindle to sell the little thing at that price. No, says Aveling; the 
chap—the publisher—is quite aware of what he’s doing—one 
booklet is too fat, the other too slim, and it ultimately averages out 
(particularly for anyone who happens to find nothing of interest ex- 
cept in the slim volumes). Moreover, the publisher, having seen the 
German original, knows all about it. Well and good. The thing’s 
completed and, by dint of tremendous leading of type, they have 
managed to make some 117 pages of it. Now the publisher — he’s 
called Sonnenschein” but at times seems unable to see, however bright 
the sunshine may be — discovers that it’s insufficient after all and asks 
me to write a good, long foreword. Well, it’s not as straightforward as 
all that. For the first time I have got, as it were, to put myself on show 
before the heddicated‘ British public, and it requires some thought. 
Anyway, what emerged was a long dissertation about this, that and 
tother, through which ran a consistent leitmotif— scathing mockery 
of the British bourgeoisie. I look forward to seeing what the British 
philistine will have to say about it. I shall let the Neue Zeit have it in 
German! and hope it will amuse you all. 

Well, to avoid missing the post, Louise and I would ask you to give 
our regards to Frieda‘ and Simon— perhaps they too will come to 
London some time? — while remaining 

Yours, etc., or not etc., as the case may be, 

F.E.