Disenchanted with the lawful authorities, some of the leading townspeople went secretly to Porfírio the barber and promised him their wholehearted support, as well as money and influence at court, if he would lead another uprising against the council and the alienist. The barber declined, saying that ambition had driven him to break the law on that first occasion, but that he had seen both the error of his ways and the fickleness of his followers. Since the council had seen fit to authorize the alienist’s new experiment for one year, then, in the event of the council rejecting their request, they should either wait until the year was up or petition the viceroy. He, Porfírio, could never advise resorting to means that had already failed him once and resulted in deaths and injuries that would be forever on his conscience.

“What’s this you say?” asked the alienist when one of his spies told him about the conversation between the barber and the leading citizens.

Two days later, the barber was taken to the Casa Verde. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t!” cried the poor man.

The one-year period came to an end, and the council authorized a six-month extension to allow some new therapies to be tested. The conclusion of this episode in the chronicles of Itaguaí is of such magnitude, and so unexpected, that it deserves a full explanation of no less than ten chapters; I will, however, make do with just one, which will form both the grand finale of my account, and one of the finest-ever examples of scientific conviction and selflessness.

Chapter 13

PLUS ULTRA!

Now it was the turn of therapy. Simão Bacamarte, so assiduous and wise in finding his patients, exceeded even himself in the foresight and diligence with which he began their treatment. On this point all of the chroniclers are in complete agreement: the eminent alienist performed the most astonishing cures, earning him Itaguaí’s most ardent admiration.

Indeed, it would be difficult to imagine a more rational system of therapy. Having divided the lunatics into categories according to their predominant moral perfection, Simão Bacamarte set about attacking the leading attribute head-on. Take, for example, modesty. Bacamarte would apply a treatment designed to instill precisely the opposite characteristic—in this case, vanity. Rather than starting immediately with the maximum dose, he would increase it gradually, taking into account the patient’s age, condition, temperament, and social position. Sometimes all it took was a tailcoat, a ribbon, a wig, or a cane to restore the patient’s sanity; in more stubborn cases he would resort to diamond rings, honorary titles, etc. There was one patient, a poet, who resisted everything. Simão Bacamarte was beginning to despair of finding a cure, when he had the idea of sending out the town crier to proclaim him as great a poet as Garção or Pindar.

“It’s a miracle,” said the poet’s mother to one of her closest friends, “a blessed miracle.”