| Author(s) | Karl Marx |
|---|---|
| Written | 20 May 1882 |
MARX TO ENGELS
IN LONDON
Monte Carlo (Monaco), 20 May 1882
Hôtel de Russie
PRIVATELY
DEAR FRED,
It would be pointless to impart all this to the children, since it would alarm them unnecessarily. But I must tell SOMEBODY AT LEAST about what I have just gone through.
In my last letter (I don't know exactly whether I wrote to you direct, or to Tussy or to Laura), I said I would let you have further details after my encounter with Dr Kunemann. This took place on 8th May; he is an Alsatian, a scientifically (medically) educated man; e. g. he told me about Dr Koch on the bacillus before I got your letter 284; has a large practice; 52-54 years old at the very least, since he was a student at Strasbourg university in 1848; politically, he has found the paper Le Temps to be the organ that corresponds most closely to his temperament; science, he said, had convinced him that progress could only be 'slow'; no revolutionary upheaval — for otherwise, progress would, in consequence, be forced to 'double back' almost as far as it had come (as in the Echternach procession,[1] p. e.[2] ); first prerequisite, education of the masses and 'non-masses', etc. IN ONE WORD, POLITICALLY, A REPUBLICAN PHILISTINE; I mention this merely to show why I didn't go into such matters with him aside from discussing the 'Machiavellian' politics of Charles III, absolute tyrant of Monaco. He regards me as an 1848 man and, apart from that date, I vouchsafed no further particulars as to the rest of my PUBLIC ACTIVITY. Now to the matter in hand. Originally he concluded from my visiting card, which has Dr on it and which I had had conveyed to him through his maid, that I was a Dr of Med., his view being further confirmed by Dr Stephann's card which I handed to him, ditto those of my new medical acquaintance[3] from Interlaken, and of Dr Donkin, whom I mentioned as the friend of my friend Prof. Ray Lankester, since he wished to know who had treated me in London, etc. Then I gave him Stephann's consultation écrite[4] to read.
Well, since he regarded me as a medical colleague, EITHER THEORETICALLY OR PRACTICALLY, he freely spoke his mind after having ausculated and percussed me. And to my horror, the pleurisy had returned, even if not in so severe a form, being confined to one spot on the left of my back; bronchitis, on the other hand, pretty well — chronic'. He thought that 1 or 2 vésicatoires[5] might put paid to the thing (pleurésie); during 9 May (Mardi)[6] first vésicatoire, on 13 May (Samedi)[7] only my 2nd visit to Kunemann, second vésicatoire prescribed; could not be applied until 16 May (Mardi) after my skin had dried up; I visited him on 19 May (Friday); ausculation and percussion; found an improvement, the épanchement[8] in particular being reduced to almost nothing; he suggested (these doctors are always afraid that their patient will grow restive, the whole of this week having been plus ou moins[9] ruined and tormented) that to continue with vésicatoires was no longer essential; I need do no more than embrocate with TINCTURE OF iodine (prescribed by Stephann for bronchial trouble), this time the upper as well as the lower places on my left side, chest and back. I thereupon declared that, if the épanchement had not altogether disappeared, I would, on the contrary, prefer another vésicatoire (on 23 May, Mardi); I had, I said, been told by Dr Stephann that in cases of pleurisy tincture of iodine was an ineffectual, uncertain antidote which only served to prolong the trouble. My plumping for the heroic remedy was obviously far more agreeable to Dr Kunemann himself; I now hope that, on 26 or 27 May, he will [tell] me this 2nd rechute[10] is the FINAL one (pro nunc[11] ).
Indeed, as regards [myself], 'fate' would seem on this occasion to have displayed an alarming consistency — almost, one might say, as in Dr Müllner's tragedies. Why does Dr Kunemann declare my bronchial condition (and I already knew I would be told as much) to be thus 'chronic'? Because the weather throughout the Riviera has been so exceptionally bad, has taken such an abnormal turn; but he suggested that this might be normal to the extent that from January to the beginning of May, there had been too little rain — virtually none; the weather had been too warm and fine and a reaction to it must have set in. I explained this to him more simply by pointing out that all this must be blamed on my arrival from Algiers; I had brought rain with me to Marseilles on the 4th May and, with some reluctance, the weather in the place of my present abode had — mutatis mutandis[12] — assumed the character of the 'bad weather' I had recently gone through in Algeria. Much patience is demanded, especially on the part of the recipients of my letters. Such repetitiveness is altogether too boring. A pointless, arid, not to say expensive, existence!
Tomorrow I shall write to Tussy[13] since her unanswered letter dates back furthest. Today it's awkward for me since the new skin formed after the vésicatoire still tends, when I stoop, to rub painfully against my coat or shirt. Notabene: What I write and tell the children is the truth, but not the whole truth. What's the point of alarming them?
Your
Moor
Dr Kunemann's error about my being a medical colleague was cleared up when, at the end of my first visit, he refused payment; was all the more honeyed when I informed him that, as a layman, I should have to 'shell out'.