“At dawn, after a summary court-martial, Arcadio was shot against the wall of the cemetery. In the last two hours of his life, he did not manage to understand why the fear that had tormented him since childhood had disappeared. Impassive, without even worrying about making a show of his recent bravery, he listened to the interminable charges of the accusation… In the shattered schoolhouse where for the first time he had felt the security of power, a few feet from the room where he had come to know the uncertainty of love, Arcadio found the formality of death ridiculous. Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia.” (122)
In just five sentences, Nobel Prize-winning author Gabriel Garcia Marquez conquers a task that even the most accomplished writer would never dream of: describing the terse moments before a general’s death. Although the epic novel spans seven generations of the Buendia family, who founded the small town of Macondo and observed the progression of time, the heartbreak of war, and the depressingly corrupt nature of society, it feels in this passage as if the entire novel revolves around third-generation Arcadio. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, he is the most brutal personage, and would have undoubtedly killed his mother if she stood in the way of his powerful regime. Early in the seventh chapter, Marquez manages to paint a despicable image of Arcadio, but in this passage, he presents a non-judgmental view of the general, simply giving an outline of his thoughts before death.
One Hundred Years of Solitude is anything but a character study, and Marquez intended to deliver a poignant social commentary. When conducting a deeper analysis of the passage, the reader comes to the conclusion that the objective of the paragraph is to point out the futility of capital punishment: “Death really did not matter to him but life did.” Arcadio has killed many innocent civilians and is one of the most reprehensible characters in literature, yet he is impartial to the thought of death- something he feared throughout his life- and is killed briefly and painlessly as he reflects on the smaller pleasures of his short life. The undeniably strong Arcadio reminisces on the importance of particular landmarks, such as “the shattered schoolhouse where for the first time he felt the security of power.” It seems as if the individuals conducting the “formalities,” such as reading off the “interminable charges of the accusation” are embarrassing themselves, as their procedure fails to inflict considerable pain because Arcadio is comfortable with his fate. Many themes are stressed over the course of One Hundred Years of Solitude, including Marquez’s obsession with communist theory, but this was an especially well-written passage due to its intense nature and the fact that it broached a difficult subject.
“One of the pompous young officers, who was so audacious as to adopt an air of superiority when speaking to me, meticulously recounted each and every charge I faced. The precursor of my death was hopeful and rejuvenating, which I doubt were the intentions of these proceedings. The officers agonized over me and numerous civilians stood around the cemetery walls observing the scene. Each would have responded identically to me had they earned my high ranking- with great power comes great death- and with respect, they crowded the centre of the town as I bid bittersweet goodbyes to Macondo, where my heroic grandfather first set foot fifty years ago. There would be no purpose in appealing a guilty verdict, because a brave man never pleads for mercy, but stoically accepts the imminence of death. I gazed upon the schoolhouse, and recalled my first experience of growth, learning, and true authority. I smiled at the thought of my tender wife, as well as the joys and the art of our lovemaking. My life was coming to its dramatic finale, but the beauty, simplicity, and painlessness of capital punishment vanquished my fear of death, and subsequently, my last few hours were a fitting ending to a pleasing life.”
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