| Author(s) | Karl Marx |
|---|---|
| Written | 28 March 1882 |
MARX TO ENGELS
IN LONDON
[Algiers, 28-] 31 March 1882
DEAR FRED,
28 March: A maddeningly wet day early this morning — when I finished writing a short epistle to Tussy. This had already gone off, however, when a storm developed which, for the first time, put on a good performance; not only howling wind, torrents of rain and thunder, but incessant lightning INTO THE BARGAIN. This went on until late at night, accompanied as usual by a considerable drop in temperature. Interesting, the varying colours of the waves in the lovely, almost elliptical bay; the surf snowy white, and the sea beyond changing from blue to green.
29 March (Wednesday): Maddening drizzle today; no less maddening the moaning gusts of wind; temperature, cold and damp.
Today, shortly before déjeuner[1] (takes place at a QUARTER PAST or perhaps half past 11) Dr Stephann arrived for the specific purpose of 'devoting' himself to the painting of those places at the very bottom of my back and chest he had specially signalled out and reserved for his own attack. Beforehand, as on every visit, a thorough examination; by far the largest part of my left side was accorded much better STATUS; the aforementioned nethermost spots, presently giving forth no more than a low murmur in place of Helmholtz's musical note, can only be put to rights by slow degrees (anything speedier being hampered by the bad weather). Today, for the first time,— no doubt because he thought me far enough on the road to recovery for him to speak his mind — Stephann told me that I had already suffered a rechute[2] of a most serious kind by the time I arrived in Algiers. The épanchements[3] could only be controlled by recourse to vésicatoires,[4] and I had made better progress than might have been foreseen. He added, however, that I should have to treat myself very carefully for years. When I leave Algiers, he will give me a written diagnosis — intended in particular for my London doctor[5] . People of my age, he said, should be careful not to experiment too often with rechutes. A few hours after déjeuner the tableau[6] on my skin began to come to life in grim earnest; like someone who feels his epidermis has contracted and he himself is seeking to burst out of it; agony all night long; I had been absolutely forbidden to scratch.
30 March: At 8 o'clock in the morning my ASSISTANT-DOCTOR, my helpmate,[7] appeared at my bedside. It transpired that, as a result of spontaneous movements, the blisters GENERALLY had burst; a veritable flood had taken place during the night — linen, flannel, night-shirt soaked. So the painting had had the desired effect on the places under attack. My kind HELP at once proceeded to bandage me, not only so as to prevent the flannel's rubbing, but also to draw off what remained of the fluid. This morning (31 March) Mr Casthelaz discovered that the SUCTION was at last nearing its end and the process of drying-out almost complete. This being so, I shall probably be able to undergo a second application within the same week (beginning 29 March). Tant mieux![8]
30 March (yesterday), the weather turned nice and warm at about midday, for which reason I strolled out onto the balcony; later I slept a little to make up for the restless night, as I shall also do today, since the strict avoidance of scratching keeps one awake at night even though, as during the night of 30 to 31, it's not agonising.
Weather today (31 March) uncertain; no rain yet, at all events; might turn relatively 'fine' towards midday, as it did yesterday.
There's nothing further to add to the health bulletin; quite satisfactory on the whole.
Have received [a letter] from Tussychen today. Apropos, a short while ago she sent me the enclosed letter; I can't make out the signature; you will be able to. At all events a strange phenomenon, a Quedlinburg lawyer with a Weltanschauung of his own! But one thing I can't make out: Has the copy of the chap's 'book' intended for me arrived at Maitland Park,[9] or does he want to have my exact address first so as to ensure that his book gets there safely? If the first, Tussy should acknowledge receipt of his book, if the second, send him my 'safe' address.
Mon cher,[10] like other FAMILY MEMBERS, you, too, will have been struck by my mistakes in spelling and syntax, and bad grammar; I never recall these — my absent-mindedness being still very great — until after the event. SHOWS YOU there's something in the saying sana mens in sano corpore.[11] No doubt this will mend itself BY AND BY.
The tocsin pour déjeuner[12] has just sounded and this little note must accordingly be got ready for the messenger to Algiers. So my love to one and all.
Your
Moor