case, as we have already seen, is a good deal more complex and interesting than that. It involves a set of facts with which those somnambulists who go about immersed in the dream of imperialist restoration have nothing to do. An ignorance of such facts leads to disasters worse than the wiping out of these three expeditions. It shows that we ourselves are but little in advance of our rude and backward fellow-countrymen. latter, at least, were logical. Isolated in space and time, the jagunco, being an ethnic anachronism, could do only what he did do--that is, combat, and combat in a terrible fashion, the nation which, after having cast him off for three centuries almost, suddenly sought to raise him to our own state of enlightenment at the point of a bayonet, revealing to him the brilliancy of our civilization in the blinding flash of cannons. Euclides da Cunha In the short span of an epigraph we can unearth the argument of Euclides da Cunha's Os Sertoes (1902), a multi-genre masterpiece of some five hundred pages. As the remarkable Brazilian incarnation of the civilization/barbarism dialectic, da Cunha's narrative depicts the conflict between the allegedly civilized Republican troops and their fellow countrymen, the millenarian Catholic folk community of the Brazilian sertao. writer paints a tragic portrait of his national sphere, which is divided such that a third of the country is left to wallow in what he describes as centuries-old semidarkness (Rebellion in the Eacklands 161). (1) Perhaps inevitably, this third of Brazil--referred to equally as sertanejos or as jaguncos--unites under the auspices of the enigmatic Antonio Conselheiro in the backlands settlement of Canudos. Here, the events of the bloody account unfold between October 1896 and October 1897. As he details the four government attempts to crush this supposed threat to the nation, da Cunha weaves together a tale of battles and insurgencies, of heroes and antiheroes, of climactic ups and downs that dizzy readers to exhaustion with their repetition. dramatic series boasts a recurring lead actor (Antonio Conselheiro) and setting (Canudos). Da Cunha casts Conselheiro and Canudos to one side, however. His primary focus is neither actor nor setting but rather the very physical space of the sertao--in other words, the land. Brazilian author divides the narrative into three sections that allude to a hierarchy of importance; this hierarchy, in turn, points to the central protagonist: first, The Land, then, The Man, and finally The Rebellion. Da Cunha opts to present first the national landscape and then the national man. This chronology brings to mind Alexander von Humboldt's 1845 Cosmos, in which the Baron systematically outlines physical geography but concludes his study with a section on man. similarities do not end there, which leads critics--namely Roberto Gonzalez Echevarria (1990) and Luiz Costa Lima (1997)--to locate da Cunha's source of authorization in the hegemonic discourse of science. I believe, however, that we can expound upon and complicate such readings by moving from the generality of science to the particularity of geography. Da Cunha, I will illustrate, reproduces Humboldt's aestheticized geographical discourse, albeit with a Brazilian twist, in order to translate writing the earth to writing the nation. Like Humboldt--the primordial Eurocentric man--da Cunha views America as materia prima. project for the local Eurocentric, however, is to theorize that materia prima from his local Brazilian sphere to the universal. Da Cunha attempts to localize--that is, nationalize--Humboldt, thereby provincializing universal philosophy. This attempt appears explicitly in his comments on Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel as well as implicitly in his poetic register. Form and content coalesce in da Cunha to literarily write the Brazilian land, this time from the perspective of a Brazilian. …
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