And here is what it was. Simão Bacamarte had discovered within himself all the characteristics of perfect mental and moral equilibrium. It seemed to him that he possessed wisdom, patience, perseverance, tolerance, truthfulness, moral vigor, and loyalty; in other words, all the qualities that together defined a confirmed lunatic. It’s true that doubts immediately followed, and he even concluded that he was mistaken; but, being a prudent man, he gathered together a group of friends and asked them for their candid opinion. Their verdict was affirmative.

“Not a single defect?”

“Not one,” they replied in unison.

“No vices?”

“None.”

“Absolutely perfect?”

“Absolutely.”

“No,” cried the alienist, “it’s impossible! I don’t recognize in myself the superiority you have so generously described. You’re just saying these things out of kindness. I’ve examined myself and I can find nothing to justify the excesses of your affections.”

The assembled friends insisted; the alienist resisted; finally, Father Lopes explained everything with this astute observation:

“Do you know why you can’t see in yourself those lofty virtues we all so admire? It’s because you have one further quality that outshines all the rest: modesty.”

His words were decisive. Simão Bacamarte bowed his head, both happy and sad, and yet more happy than sad. Without further ado, he committed himself to the Casa Verde. In vain his wife and friends told him to stay, that he was perfectly sane and balanced; but no amount of begging or pleading or tears would detain him for even one moment.

“It is a matter of science,” he said. “It concerns an entirely new doctrine, of which I am the very first example. I embody both the theory and the practice.”

“Simão! My darling Simão!” wailed his wife, tears streaming down her face.

But the illustrious doctor, his eyes shining with scientific conviction, shut his ears to his wife’s pleas, and gently pushed her away. Once the door of the Casa Verde was locked behind him, he devoted himself entirely to the study and cure of himself. The chroniclers say that he died seventeen months later, in the same state in which he entered the Casa Verde, having achieved nothing. Some even speculate that he had always been the sole lunatic in Itaguaí; but this theory, based upon a rumor that circulated after the alienist’s death, has no basis beyond the rumor itself, and it is a dubious rumor at that, being attributed to Father Lopes, who had so ardently praised the great man’s virtues. In any event, his funeral took place with great pomp and rare solemnity.

How to Be a Bigwig

HOW TO BE A BIGWIG

A Dialogue

“ARE YOU SLEEPY?”

“No, Father.”

“Neither am I. Let’s talk awhile. Open the window. What time is it?”

“Eleven o’clock.”