| Author(s) | Karl Marx |
|---|---|
| Written | 8 April 1882 |
MARX TO ENGELS
IN LONDON
[Algiers,] 8 April[1] (Saturday) 1882
DEAR FRED,
At 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon I was examined by Dr Stephann. Despite the changeable weather, which had again brought on a persistent cold, he was very satisfied; found that the épanchement[2] low down (to the left of my chest) had almost completely disappeared; the one on my back (low down on the left) being rather more stubborn. Yesterday he gave this a special lambasting by painting it with collodion cantharidal.[3] The result was most acute pain and, thanks to the 'painting', a sleepless night (from 7 to 8 April), but this morning there has also been a MOST EFFECTIVE PUMPING OF WATER from the blisters that have formed. So I have no doubt that this offending spot will also capitulate in the very near future. My ASSISTANT-DOCTOR, Mr Casthelaz, had to work away for half an hour in my flourishing watermelon plantation, after which I was made to lie in bed until déjeuner[4] at half past eleven; for after bandaging the drawing off, drop by drop, of any residual fluid works best in that position.
On the other hand Stephann found my cough somewhat worse (only relatively, however, for the cough had reached a nadir), a consequence of the absurd weather; for 4 days this week the mornings were fine enough for walks; since yesterday afternoon it has never stopped raining; in the night and today THE RAIN ASSUMED THE caractère torrentier; today there has been a feeble attempt at lighting the fire in the dining-room, but these fireplaces don't in fact seem to exist for that purpose, BUT ONLY FOR SHOWS SAKE.
After déjeuner I retired for a nap AT 2 O'CLOCK to make up in part for last night, but by some infernal chance the courts are on vacation this week and next. So my plan was thwarted by the otherwise most amiable JUDGE Fermé who didn't release me until ABOUT 5 p. m. when dinner time was approaching. Fermé told me amongst other things that during his carrière on the bench a form of torture has been used (and this happens 'regularly') to extract confessions from Arabs; naturally it is done (like the English in India) by the 'police'; the judge is SUPPOSED TO KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ALL OF IT. On the other hand, he says that when, for example, a murder is committed by an Arab gang, usually with robbery in view, and the actual miscreants are in the course of time duly apprehended, tried and executed, this is not regarded as sufficient atonement by the injured colonist family. They demand INTO THE BARGAIN the 'pulling in' of at least half a dozen innocent Arabs. But this is resisted by the French judges and particularly the cours d'appel,[5] though now and again the life of an individual, isolated judge may be threatened by the colonists if he does not provisionally consent (his competence extends no further) to having a dozen innocent Arabs locked up for suspected murder, burglary, etc., and involving them in the investigation. However we are aware that when a European colonist dwells among the 'lesser breeds', either as a settler or simply on business, he generally regards himself as even more inviolable than handsome William I. Still, when it comes to barefaced arrogance and presumptuousness vis-à-vis the 'lesser breeds', to a grisly, Moloch-like obsession with atonement, the British and Dutch outdo the French.
Pumps' FAMILY MISSION shows great promise,[6] as opposed to Hyndman's political mission which might be regarded as problematical. It serves the laddie right that your note[7] should have annoyed him, especially since he took these liberties with me only because he was counting on my own inability, for 'considerations of propaganda', to compromise him in public.[8] He knew that well enough.
Scandalmonger Bodenstedt and Friedrich Vischer-Sewer-Aesthete are the Horace and Virgil of William I.[9]
Apropos. The Kölnische Zeitung's article on Skobelev you sent me is most interesting.
This note won't leave today (Saturday), for there are no 'paquebots'[10] at all to Marseilles on Mondays, Wednesdays or Saturdays; but by way of exception a paquebot leaves Algiers on a Sunday at 1 p. m. and letters for it must be delivered to the post office by 11 o'clock in the morning (Sunday); the Hôtel Victoria, Algiers, despatches a MESSENGER with the letters early on Sunday mornings. On the other days, when there is a paquebot from Algiers to Marseilles, departure is at 5.30 in the afternoon.
But I wanted to get these lines off by tomorrow, since Dr Stephann's last examination was so especially favourable.
Best wishes to everyone.
Your
Moor