Backlands (39 page)

There was no way to halt the decline in national affairs. The previous government of Marshal Floriano Peixoto was, because of very special circumstances, a combative and destructive regime. But in putting down successive seditions, it had aggravated social instability and was counterproductive. Having come into power out of a conflict with a regime that had suspended constitutional guarantees, it now proceeded to restrict them. Tenaciously clinging to the constitution, it disregarded it. In the name of legality, it sanctioned criminality and turned the country into a lawless society. The inflexible and inscrutable Iron Marshal perhaps involuntarily undid the mission to which he devoted his career. In the crises that assailed him, he unscrupulously used any means and any people he could muster, no matter what their origin, even if his actions flaunted public opinion. The passions and interests of his party were mediocre and self-interested. When, in the last days of his administration, he put down the September revolt, which gathered all the discontented forces of previous years, he unleashed the explosive germs of future unrest.

He destroyed as well as created revolutionaries. He fought unrest with unrest. When he left power, he did not take along all those who had supported him in the difficult transactions of his government. He left behind many who had been trained to incite insurgency and who were angry at having been left behind. They had until now had easy careers and they were dizzy with success. It was hard to stop now. They plotted to work from the inside to pursue their ambitions.

What happened then was a common case of collective psychology. The citizenry was taken by surprise at the turn of events in public life; its abject passivity and neutrality actually fostered the proliferation of the very subversive forces that it feared. Demonstrating the “psychic mimicry” theorized by Scipio Sighele, the moral minority adopted the mediocre characteristics of those in power. In all sectors public figures arose that normally would have become laughingstocks. Lacking ideals or objectives, and limited to archaic political programs derived from a crude mix of Latin American nativism and thirdhand Jacobinism, these cynical agitators began to live off a corpse.
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The grave of Marshal Floriano Peixoto became a rallying point for the impertinent rebels and the great man’s name was the password for civil disorder.

The complicity and indifference of the thinking majority of the country made all manner of excess possible. Mediocrity set the tone for the times, which fortunately were transitory. The unrest and economic instability that they inherited from the former regime did not bring them to their senses. In fact, they did everything possible to perpetuate the situation. Moreover, they imprudently supported the army that had, in defiance of logic, come to hold the balance of power in the country from the days of abolition to the declaration of the republic.

Of all the men in the entire army it was a colonel of the infantry who seemed to have inherited the rare tenacity necessary to put down rebellions. This was Antônio Moreira César.

The fetishistic tendencies of the times called for idols in uniform. He was chosen as the latest one.

When news of the disaster escalated the gravity of the battle going on in the backlands, the government could think of no one better to bring the situation under control. He was given the command of the next expedition.

A legend of bravery was spun around the newly appointed commander.

He had recently arrived from Santa Catarina, where he had played a principal role in the conclusion of the federalist campaign of Rio Grande. He was exceptionally popular and was greeted with acclamations and affectionate nicknames that were typical of the unrestrained fashion of the day. One must recall that the details of the civil war that, by revolt of the fleet, stretched from Rio de Janeiro to the South were still vivid in the public mind. National opinion wavered between Gumercindo Saraiva’s daring and Gomes Carneiro’s caution. There were wildly differing views on who had won or lost. Out of all this emotional confusion emerged a caricature of heroism. Heroes of the hour, who had been honored by a statue in the square, were suddenly toppled. It was never clear if they were saints or bandits. Alternatively bombarded by panegyrics and then insults, accompanied by sarcasm and slander, they went down in history at the bloodletting at Inhanduhy, the slaughterhouse of Campo Osório, the siege of Lapa, the barricades of Pico do Diabo, and the martial law of Itararé. There were legions of them—all celebrated, all of them cursed.

Moreira César stood apart from the rest.

Admirers and adversaries alike were surprised when they saw him for the first time.

He did not look anything like a famous hero. He was short—he had a scrawny chest and bowlegs. He was organically unsuited for the career he had chosen.

He lacked the straight posture and strong constitution that for a soldier are the physical foundation of courage. Clad in his tight uniform, which he rarely took off, his cape thrown over his adolescent shoulders, he had an awkward and frail appearance. His unattractiveness was made worse by a morbid expression. Nothing at all revealed the astonishing and rare courage he had proven. His pale, sickly face had not a single impressive feature. His bulging forehead, elongated by his baldness, shielded a pair of lifeless, sad eyes. His face was as inexpressive as a wax cast, a lack of expression that comes from muscular weakness. Bursts of anger or energy would go unobserved in this countenance due to the lack of firmness of the tissues, which kept his face rigid and impassive.

Those who saw him for the first time had a difficult time comprehending that this man with the slow, cold gestures, and courteous if timid manners, was the brilliant warrior or heartless devil that they imagined. He did not have the demeanor of one or the other—perhaps because he was something of both.

His supporters as well as his detractors found something to justify their views. This singular man had special qualities as well as monstrous tendencies, both with the same degree of intensity. He was persistent, patient, dedicated, loyal, bold, cruel, vindictive, and ambitious. He was a complex man confined in a very weak body.

These attributes were protected by a cautious and deliberate reserve. Only one man had recognized them or was able to see through him, and that was Marshal Floriano Peixoto. The two men had an affinity because they were so alike. The marshal thus used him the same way that Louis XI had taken advantage of Bayard, if the romantic bravery of “the white knight” can be compared to the cunning of a Fra Diavolo. Moreira César was neither noble nor depraved, but he could be said to have something of the character of both men, although in reduced measure. He was a man who had fallen short of his potential, as if nature had been about to create a man destined for greatness but stopped before endowing him with the special qualities he needed, just at the stage when he would become either a great man or a criminal. The result was that he was imbalanced. He could swing from devotion to hate, serenity to fury, and bravery to revolting barbarity.

He had the uneven and bizarre temperament of a proven epileptic, hiding the nervous instability of a seriously ill person with deceptive calm.

However, occasionally his self-control would be broken by the impulsive movements characteristic of the disease. It was not until later that the disease would manifest itself fully with violent seizures. If we could follow his life, we would see the steady progression of his illness. It would give him, as it does to those who suffer from it, an interesting profile. It would be defined by ever-shorter periods of calm.

In fact, his comrades in arms were very aware of the alarming episodes that again and again, with great regularity, would put his brilliant military career on hold. We cannot recount them here and we risk repeating exaggerated or false stories.

All of these rumored incidents contain the element of violence—the beating of a military surgeon, a barely averted knife attack on an Argentine official over a communication he had not understood. We will not go into them and will just briefly summarize what is more commonly known.

One incident in particular revealed his savage energy.

It happened in Rio de Janeiro in 1884.

A journalist by the name of Apulchro de Castro, who could better be described as a madman, had for a long time slandered the court of the former empire and had gotten away with it due to lax laws regulating offenses of this nature. He directed some of his insults toward the army, affecting all classes from the common citizen to the royal family. Unfortunately, a few officers took matters into their own hands and lynched him.

Among the perpetrators was the young captain Moreira César, who at that time was just over thirty years old. Until then he had a perfect record and had been commended on occasion for his exemplary performance. In the present situation, in broad daylight and in front of the entire police force, he was the most aggressive and cold-blooded of all. Castro had sought asylum under the law and was riding in a carriage next to a high-ranking army officer. Moreira César stepped out from the crowd and thrust a knife into his ribs.

For this crime he was sent to Mato Grosso, and he did not return from the Brazilian Army’s hot Siberia until after the proclamation of the republic.

Let’s take a look at him at that time. He was still a captain in the army, and although he had never drawn a sword in combat, he acted as if he had won many victories. In the first uncertain days of the republic, the government needed a strong figure, someone who could be relied upon for handling crises and acting boldly. His boyish figure passed through the barracks and the streets to the sympathetic murmurs of approval and praise of the people. He was the man of the hour. The fact was, however, that he was an undistinguished bureaucrat who had been assigned to mundane tasks. All the military records had to show was an uneven and disturbed record. He had used the dagger more frequently than his virgin sword.

It was only later in his life that his sword would be drawn from its scabbard. In 1893 he was a colonel, after three rapid promotions in two years. When the revolt of the fleet broke out, he was given orders by Marshal Floriano Peixoto to go to Santa Catarina to stop the spread of the rebellion in the South, which was threatening bordering states. He went with discretionary powers. Never was a state of siege imposed as firmly or as ruthlessly in our country as it was with Moreira César’s iron fist.

The unconscionable shootings that took place speak for themselves. The nation was so outraged that when the revolt had been subdued, the new civil government demanded an investigation. The reply, by telegram, came immediately. It was an abrupt and defiant no. It was a sharp rebuke to the authorities, and he did not bother to give any explanations.

Months later they called him to Rio de Janeiro. He embarked with the Seventh Battalion on a merchant vessel. On the open sea, to the surprise of his companions, he arrested the captain. He assaulted him, without the slightest provocation, on suspicion of treason, because of a slight deviation in the ship’s course. The act would be totally inexplicable other than as a manifestation of his psychic disorder.

His prestige, however, did not diminish. He made himself the supreme commander of his battalion. He increased his personnel to numbers far in excess of the regulations. Moreover, he broke the law in admitting into the ranks dozens of minor children who were unfit to bear arms. His word was law, however, and he put together the best corps in the army. In his long periods of lucidity he displayed the rare qualities of an exceptional military leader and disciplinarian. This contrasted with the intermittent fits of rage that attacked him and which he could not control. These became more pronounced and more frequent.

When he was given command of the Canudos expedition, he committed a series of rash acts that finally resulted in a catastrophe. Two of these are examples of impulsive behavior. One was his sudden departure from Monte Santo a day ahead of the official schedule, causing consternation among his staff. The second happened three days later when, again a day ahead of schedule, he attacked the settlement with a thousand exhausted men who had not recovered from their long march. These two incidents, an expression of his neurosis, were revealing. All the erratic things he had done during his disturbed life were now clearly seen as warning symptoms of a clear diagnosis.

Epilepsy feeds off the passions and grows with strong outbursts of emotion. When it is still dormant, it is manifested in barely noticeable mental disturbances, but it undermines human consciousness. A crime or burst of heroism is often associated with an attack. If the murderer’s arm be restrained or the hero stopped from making his charge, the sick man will reveal his condition by falling into a rage. The victim often turns to crime as an alternative to madness.

For a long time he is only semiaware of his condition. He suffers a continuous series of brief seizures, which no one notices, and which he himself often does not notice. He increasingly senses that his life is going out of control and he fights it tenaciously. His lucid moments sustain him and he seeks a way to control himself so that he can function normally. His inhibitions gradually weaken and his sick mind finds it increasingly more difficult to adapt to reality and to make sense of events around him. He starts to confuse, invert, and deform external facts. The invalid then falls into a twilight state. His weakened brain synthesizes all his previous delirious moments. He is capable at any moment of committing a crime or, just as accidentally, an act of heroism.

There is nothing that society can do at this point other than to put him in a straitjacket or give him honors. Collective passions are also ruled by the general law of relativity. If a man of genius can manipulate a great people, dangerous fanatics can also fascinate backward masses. Our country was under the influence of the doomed-leader syndrome. Unique individuals crossed the scene, and Colonel Moreira César stands out among them. His ordinary past only highlighted the fierce energy he expended in his last days.