| Author(s) | Karl Marx |
|---|---|
| Written | 11 April 1868 |
MARX TO LAURA AND PAUL LAFARGUE[1]
IN PARIS
London, 11 April 1868
My dear Cacadou,
You know I am a slow hand at writing, but this time the shortcomings of my left arm are responsible for the sins of my right hand. Under those circumstances I missed the more my secretary who might have addressed to himself, on my behalf, the most charming letters.[2]
I am happy to see from your scribblings (you excuse the 'term', Borkheim with his 'scribaille' is still dinning my ears[3] ) and those of your helpmate[4] that you are thoroughly enjoying your Brautfahrt[5] and that all the outer circumstances, spring and sun and air and Paris jollities, conjure in your favour. As to that said helpmate, his sending books to me, at such a critical juncture, speaks volumes for the innate kindness of the 'young man'. This simple fact would go far to prove that he must belong to a better than the European race.[6] By the by, as we have just touched the chapter of books, you might pay a visit to Guillaumin (14, rue Richelieu)[7] and get his (economical) bulletins de librairie for 1866-1868. You might also wend your steps to the Librairie Internationale (15, Boulevard Montmartre) and ask for their catalogues (1865-68). Of course, if you get these desiderata, you will not send them, but bring them on your return to this dreary place.
I am expecting, from Meissner, 3 copies of my book.[8] On their arrival, I shall send two to Caesar de Paepe, one for himself, the other for Altmayer.[9] Meanwhile, if you should find the time to see Schily (that is to say if you write to him 4, rue St. Quentin to come and see you) be so kind to ask him what has become of the 3 copies, 1 I sent for Jacquelard,[10] 1 for Taine, 1 for Reclus. If Jacquelard was not to be found, you might give his copy to Altmayer, since Meissner is very slow in forwarding the copies. In that case, however, I ought to be informed. You'll certainly fancy, my dear child, that I am very fond of books, because I trouble you with them at so unseasonable a time. But you would be quite mistaken. I am a machine, condemned to devour them and, then, throw them, in a changed form, on the dunghill of history. A rather dreary task, too, but still better than that of Gladstone's, who is obliged, at a day's notice, to work himself into 'states of mind', yclept 'earnestness'.
We feel here rather somewhat lonely. First you disappeared together with the meridional 'silent man', and then Engels left us.2
In lieu of an 'excitement' we had the Lormiers yesterday evening. I played with Louis two parties of chess and allowed him to win one. What do you think the strange Caliban boy told me, in the most solemn manner of the world, on taking leave? Sans rancune, j'espère![11]
And now, my dear Cacadou, Adio.
Old Nick
Dear Lafargue,[12]
Do you not find that staying in Paris WITH A YOUNG LOVABLE WIFE is much pleasanter than with politics? When your father[13] arrives in Paris, give him my best regards, and, in particular, you and Laura should not forget to make his stay so PLEASANT as possible. Given the state of his eyes, he needs diversion, and nothing will divert him more than that the young pair should devote to him completely the short time they have with the old gentleman. I am writing to you in German so that you may, or may not, as you wish, inform the private secretary[14] of the contents of these lines. And now, with heartiest greetings.
Yours faithfully,
K. M.