I stood up and shook out my legs, which had cramped up from my uncomfortable position. How pleasant it is to move, to stride back and forth, I thought to myself. I stayed by the bed for a bit, staring at the doctor — I wanted to remember him as he had been when I’d seen him for the last time, to give his features time to imprint themselves clearly and lastingly on my mind. Then I turned around, headed for the door, opened it, looked back at the doctor once again as I was leaving, and stopped for a moment, after which I closed the door and calmly headed for his study.
I went into the doctor’s study, opened the second drawer on the left in his writing desk, and quickly spotted a paper pouch with my name written on it in large crooked letters. Inside there were two pieces of paper, a small one and a large one. I opened the larger one. The doctor’s letter read:
Guimarães,
I’m not going to leave you anything, since I’ve never been particularly fond of you. Do you remember that day in front of the Five Wounds of Christ? Things have their consequences, my friend. No, I am not one to hold grudges. But to each his own. Each must receive that which he deserves. No more and no less. This is something I believe. To each his own.
I had thought to leave you my olive press, but decided against it. For the aforementioned reason, as well as for another: it is in bad shape and will not be of much use to you, and years from now you’ll start saying: “Look, Dr. Monardes did not leave me anything except a useless press.” I prefer to simply leave you nothing.
I will leave you my three pieces of advice, as I have promised you and which I owe you as my student. They are on the other, smaller sheet of paper.
Thank you for all the care you gave me while I was bedridden. That was useful to me.
Still, I will give you a chance you can take advantage of, if you wish and if you can manage it. Know that the notary Serega from the municipal council is open to bribes. Also know that my will does not mention this house anywhere. If you write up a fake will especially for this house and bribe Serega, he will notarize it and the house will be yours. This will be very expensive, however. Most likely you do not have the money needed for this. If you so desire, you can borrow it from my partner, the apothecary del Valle. He won’t make a note of what you need it for, but he will charge you heavy interest. If your practice goes well, you will be able to pay him back in a year or two, but if it doesn’t, then you will be hopelessly sunk. Think it over carefully. If you do not succeed in medicine, with such a debt you will either end up a beggar on the street or you will have to leave the country. Don’t imagine you can simply go to Madrid or Barcelona. Del Valle has apothecaries and lots of friends all over the country and he will find you.
As you know, my daughters are married to rich men, they have more than enough property, and besides, I will leave everything else to them. Moreover, this house was never mine. It belonged to my father-in-law Perez de Morales and I acquired it in a similar way many years ago. Many, many years ago. How time flies, Guimarães. It really flies.
Death fills even physicians with horror, when it is their own. I now realize that clearly. I meet it without any illusions and without any hopes. I know there is nothing after it. It is simply a black hole that you fall into and disappear. I will not pretend and lie to you, but rather will admit that this provokes horror within me. Life is absurd, yet death is very frightening.
Some time ago I had become reconciled with it and had calmed down, but the closer it gets, the more terrified I feel. However, if I truly know human nature well, in my final hours I will most likely again feel resigned and calm and perhaps will even begin to expect something. I will meet death calm and hopeful. Man is simply that kind of animal. Nature has arranged things this way, perhaps as a final gesture of mercy, or simply because it is more efficient like this.
(She is more merciful than you give her credit for, Guimarães, and is nowhere near as crazy as you think. But I know that I cannot change your mind about this.)
Continue using tobacco and proclaiming its healing power everywhere. For me, it was one of the greatest opportunities of my career, and for you it may turn out to be the only one.
Farewell.
Dr. N. M.
I set that sheet aside and unrolled the other with trembling fingers. I felt very strange — simultaneously very impatient and somehow drifting in a stupor, as if the world were slowly spinning around me as around its axis or center. The noise from the street reached my ears and seemed to move in a circle around me, somehow slowly and thoughtfully, along with the objects in the room and the pale pre-dawn light. I took a few steps towards the window so as to better see what was written.
My Three Pieces of Advice
They are not exactly advice, Guimarães, but rather deductions from which you can draw your own conclusions in turn. If you constantly keep these three deductions in mind, they will prompt you as to how to act in every concrete situation. Here they are:
1. There is no God. A pity, but that’s how it is.
2. People are foolish.
3. Money rules the world. The Golden Rule: Whoever has the gold makes the rules.
The latter only applies to the human world, of course. If you are interested in medicine, if you decide to delve further into it and to understand how things stand in that world, there are, of course, completely different forces and laws at work. Everything I can tell you about them can be found in my works, which you already know well, thus I cannot add anything new for you.
Frankly speaking, I don’t see any particular point in delving any deeper into that; which, if I know you at all, is not among your intentions in any case.
One clarification: people are foolish, but dangerous. Don’t ever forget that. It is much better to trick them than to force them. It is also much easier, if you have the head for it. It is also far more effective and long-lasting. Contrary to that foolish proverb, a lie has infinitely long legs.
Live and enjoy life, Guimarães, insofar as that is possible.
Yours, etc.,
Dr. Nicolas Monardes
I rolled the pages back up and stuffed them, along with the pouch, into the pockets of my jacket. Then I lit a cigarella and thought hard. That letter was important. There have hardly been two times in my life when I’ve thought deeply, and this was one of them. The doctor’s advice didn’t particularly surprise me, but the other part of his letter — yes.
After I finished smoking the cigarella, I called Jesús and informed him that the doctor had died. He asked to see him, so I led him to Dr. Monardes’s bedroom. When he recovered from the shock, Jesús hastened to go to tell his daughters what had happened.