Ah, no, forgive me, the professor objected, when we speak of Calderón we speak of a poet rather than a playwright. It is enough to read the verse in his plays, which far outweighs the action. Furthermore, with all due respect, lieber Herr Gottlieb, for I am aware of your fondness for him, Calderón serves up his poetry with too liberal a sprinkling of holy allusions. Faith is one thing, religious zeal another. Good grief, Professor, declared Álvaro, how very Spanish you are this afternoon! As Spanish, retorted Professor Mietter, as the confusion to which I have just alluded. I shan’t deny it, smiled Álvaro, I shan’t deny it. My favourite of all the Catholic poets is Quevedo — he could be reactionary, but never overly pious. God! What sublime wickedness, if you’ll pardon the expression. What exasperates me about Calderón are his religious plays, rich and poor as one in death, kings and their subjects joined in the afterlife! What would Sancho Panza have said of The Great Theatre of the World? My dear friend, the professor said solemnly, if anything makes us equal it is death. That is an inescapable truth, and a powerful idea for theatre — hearing what the dead would say if they knew what awaited them. Only by politicising philosophy can one question such a thing. Look, replied Álvaro, if life is a play, then Calderón forgot to describe what goes on behind the scenes. All that interest in the afterlife disguises what’s going on here and now. Didn’t Cervantes do the exact opposite in Quixote? He moved us by showing up everyday inequalities, injustices and corruption. By contrast the death of his character, what happens afterwards, is almost irrelevant. How can you say that, protested the professor, when Quijano recants on his deathbed! Quijano recants, said Álvaro, but not Don Quixote.
How fascinating, Frau Pietzine declared, I adore Quixote! I haven’t read all of it, but some of the chapters are wonderful. And who do you prefer, as a Spanish reader, dear Monsieur Urquiho, Don Quixote or Sancho Panza? I hope I am not putting you on the spot! My dear lady, replied Álvaro, it is impossible to choose, the story needs them both, and neither character would make sense without the other. Don Quixote without Sancho would be an aimless old man who wouldn’t last a week, and without him Sancho would be a plump little conformist without his curiosity, which is his greatest asset. I agree completely, commented Hans, except in one respect — the key to Don Quixote is that he has no aim: “He continued on his way”—do you remember? — “taking nothing save his beloved horse, believing that therein lay the true spirit of adventure”. If there can be no knight without a squire bearer and vice versa, without Rocinante there would be no book. How fascinating, Frau Pietzine cooed, and what de-li-cious cakes! Sophie, my dear, my compliments to Petra. Ah, scoffed Rudi, a speck of snuff on the tip of his nose, a sensible remark at last!
After several days of running a temperature, coughing, and feeling nauseous, the organ grinder agreed to be seen by a doctor. Just so you know, kof, he had declared, I’m doing this to put yours and Franz’s minds at rest. Hans gave him a scrub down for the occasion. His muscles sagged like pieces of string.
Doctor Müller arrived by coach. Hans waited for him at the end of Bridge Walk. The doctor alighted nervously and approached in little leaps, as though his feet were tied together at the ankles. Haven’t we met before? asked the doctor. I don’t think so, answered Hans, but who knows. How odd, said Doctor Müller, your face looks familiar. And even though I say so myself, I seldom forget a face. The opposite happens with me, said Hans, leading him through the pinewood, I’m constantly muddling people up.
They entered the cave. Without batting an eyelash, the doctor made straight for the organ grinder’s straw pallet. He studied him with interest, nodded a couple of times, draped an enormous stethoscope round his neck (It’s French, he explained), listened to the patient’s chest and proclaimed: This old fellow is suffering from pemphigus. And what is that, doctor? Hans asked anxiously. Pemphigus, replied Müller, is a common ailment. Yes, but what is it? Hans insisted. Blisters, the doctor explained, skin blisters, in this case mostly on the hands. I imagine this fellow has worked a great deal with his hands, or so it seems to me at least. Quite so, said Hans, but what has that to do with his condition? You mean the fevers and the coughing? said Müller. Oh very little. Nothing, in fact. But as soon as I saw him I knew. Without a doubt. Pemphigus. But what about the other symptoms? Hans said impatiently. Doctor Müller digressed onto the subject of nervous ailments, boils, lingering colds, old age, bone disease. In brief, he concluded, nothing serious. Or perhaps it could be.
After examining the organ grinder more thoroughly, Doctor Müller prescribed aloe purgatives at eight-hour intervals. Six different chest ointments, one for every day except Sunday. Soothing morning enemas using a chicken’s gut for easy application. Poultices in the afternoon, mustard plasters after supper. Pomeranian vinegar to be taken with each meal. Fenugreek poultices to aid digestion. Five grams of shredded lemon balm to reduce the nausea. Ten grams of decoction of horehound to ease minor coughing. Four small cups of juniper berry at the first sign of a convulsive coughing fit, followed by four more infusions of arnica and maidenhair fern to help bring up the phlegm once the fever has subsided. Mandrake root with crushed peppercorns as a tonic. Optional doses of snakeweed root if the patient’s bowel movements become too frequent. And if he suffers any acute pains or thirst, a cocktail of lilies boiled in milk and schnapps. Finally, if all else should fail, vigorous rubbing with swallowwort leaves on the forehead and temples.
Isn’t that rather a lot, Hans asked, jotting it all down. Doctor Müller bridled: Tell me, do you know the Reil method? Carus’s experimental anatomy? Mesmer’s animal fluids? Well, in that case, kindly place your trust in science. Hans sighed: I’m doing my best. Is there anything else? No, I don’t think so, Doctor Müller replied wistfully, or perhaps there is, say a prayer or two for the patient, it’s a small gesture and it can do no harm. I’m afraid I can’t promise anything there, said Hans. I understand, the doctor smiled, don’t worry, I’m not a very religious man myself. The thing is patients sometimes feel more relief from prayer than from the treatment.