London, 28 April 1871 
122 Regent’s Park Road, N.W. 

Dear Kugelmann, 

You can see from the above address that I have settled in 
London and have in fact been here since last autumn when I 
finally wound up my various business obligations in Manchester. I 
am happy with the move in every respect. My new house is not 
quite ten minutes away from Marx, which is very close indeed 
according to ideas here. Moreover, I have the park directly 
opposite the door and splendid fresh air. 

As far as Marx’ condition is concerned, you saw the situation in 
altogether too gloomy a light. D’abord your bold diagnosis which 
blamed his cough on catarrh on the lungs. Marx and I have 
consulted a very able young doctor? (a Scot), who knows his 
auscultation and percussion as well as most in Germany, and who 
says the same as I have been saying all along: that the source of 
the cough is solely in the larynx and that the lungs are completely 
unaffected. He says that it is, however, not easy to get rid of a 
cough that has been so greatly neglected and which has therefore 
become so firmly entrenched, and he prophesies a recurrence in 

4 Crossed out in the original: ‘public affronts to which he was submitted in London by 
several’, ‘by a French worker’, ‘Résumé: Serraillier’s crime consists in his persistent 
efforts to baffle the’. This is followed by a gap in the original. - > Crossed out in the 
original: ‘for negotiation’. - ¢ First of all - ¢ Maddison 

the autumn, even if the summer drives it away. Given proper 
treatment, however, he says there is no cause for concern. The 
only trouble with the cough to begin with was that it prevented 
Marx from sleeping and so brought about a general deterioration 
in his health. That has now been attended to more or less. The 
doctor has mainly been treating his liver and there too he has had 
some success. You will understand, however, that there can be no 
speedy cure for a chronic illness that, to my knowledge, has been 
more or less permanent for the last 26 years. Incidentally, Marx’s 
way of life is by no means as crazy as people imagine. While the 
excitement that started with the war still persists, he has given up 
work on heavy theoretical matters and is living fairly rationally; he 
even frequently takes his 1'/, hour to 2 hour walks without my 
forcing him to and he does not drink a drop of beer for weeks on 
end as soon as he notices that it doesn’t agree with him. That he 
has a capricious appetite which alternates between lack of appetite 
and ravenous hunger is not surprising in his condition. You need 
have no fear that his skin is not in order—apart from the 
considerable areas where the cutis has been completely destroyed 
by the carbuncles. A walk via Highgate to Hampstead and back to 
Maitland Park is about 1'/2 German miles and involves going up 
and down several steep hills. And up on top there is more ozone 
than in the whole of Hanover. He goes for this walk 3-4 times per 
week, at least in part. Naturally, I often have to make him do it, 
but he knows that it is good for him. And in general, like me, he 
lives circa 150 feet above the Thames in an open district, with 
hardly a hint of urban atmosphere, among large gardens and few 
houses, and if matters are not worse with him, it can be put down 
to this healthy environment. 

I have just been called to the table and, since the crazy postal 
system closes down in half-an-hour, I shall have to break off. At 
any rate ] have given you enough material to counteract your 
somewhat exaggerated fears. The fact is that I cannot bear to be 
without a lot of exercise out of doors and, whether he wants to or 
not, Marx mostly has to come along with me, and that is after ail 
the best medicine for him. 

With warm regards, 

Yours, 
F. E.