THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF LOVE IN PERCY SHELLEY AND MACHADO DE ASSIS
Gentil de Faria
Universidade Estadual Paulista (UNESP), Brazil
The study of the literary reception of Percy Shelley (1792-1822) is still a challenging
and fascinating subject that could arouse the attention of a Brazilian comparatist or a
Brazilianist interested in tracing the literary reputation of foreign writers in the country.
Together with Byron (1788-1824) and John Keats (1795-1821), they formed the young trinity
of English romantic poetry and achieved a quite different reputation abroad. Byron, for
instance, considered the lesser poet of the three, and thus labeled as a “second-rate poet”,
especially by British critics¹, won a worldwide public acclaim. Whereas Keats, unanimously
regarded as the best poet of the three, was hardly known to Brazilians in the nineteenthcentury.
The reasons that would explain the disparity of literary fortune obtained by an author
in his native country and abroad, one of the most fascinating facets of comparative studies,
are many and differ in time and space. In Byron’s case², it is sufficient to mention two
decisive facts: his love for personal liberty and defiance of social conventions. To explain his
tremendous popularity among foreign romantic poets one should also consider the cultural
impact of France upon other countries. At that time France functioned as kind of a filter of
other cultures. South Americans read what was currently in fashion in Paris and therefore the
French translations of Byron’s works were widely disseminated in Rio de Janeiro and Buenos
Aires, cities that boasted of being the “Paris of the South”.
Although not as popular as Byron but much more known than Keats, Shelley was
widely read by Brazilian romantics. The young Álvares de Azevedo (1831-1852), for
instance, an enthusiast of Byron’s poetry and one of his first translators in Brazil, picked up
the refrain “No more – oh, nevermore”, from Shelley’s “A Lament”, for the epigraph of
“Lembrança de morrer” [Remembrance of Dying], his most famous poem. Another line from
Shelley “As almas encontram-se nos lábios dos enamorados” (Soul meets soul on lover’s
lips), from Prometheus Unbound (Act IV, v. 451) has been abundantly quoted not only by
poets and writers but also by ordinary people in love letters and Valentine cards, but quite
often out of its original context.
2
To my knowledge, the first published translation of a Shelley’s poem in Brazil was
rendered by Francisco Otaviano de Almeida Rosa (1825-1889) in his very slim book (only 43
pages), called Traduções e poesia, written in 1877, but only privately printed four years later.
This very limited edition had only 50 numbered copies, and individually signed by the
author. They were given to libraries and prestigious people, including Dom Pedro II, the
Brazilian emperor, who received copy number one. The National Library, in Rio de Janeiro,
keeps in its collection of rare books copy number 47.
In these very few pages Rosa translated fragments of poems by poets as diverse as
Horace, Catullus, Alexandre Dumas, Thomas Hood, and Henri Meilhac. In a chapter loosely
named “Versos de Shelley”, the Brazilian poet gives his translation of Shelley as it follows:
Aqui, - ali, - a Morte! – Ativa cegadora
Vai ela desfechando infatigável corte
Acima, abaixo, em torno, ontem, mais tarde, agora;
A morte sempre em tudo! E nós somos a Morte.
A sua marca e selo constantemente imprime
Em tudo quanto somos, enquanto conhecemos,
Naquilo que sentimos, naquilo que tememos,
No Belo, - no Deforme, - na boa ação, no crime.
Morre o prazer primeiro, morre a esperança após;
Morre também o medo. E quando, assim, da vida
Todo o interesse morre, - a dívida é devida,
O pó reclama o pó, morremos também nós. (17)
(Longa-Vista, 28 de novembro de 1877)
It took me a great deal of time to discover the source of this untitled poem in
Shelley’s immense poetical works. The original poem is “Death”, from Posthumous Poems,
which reads:
Death
Death is here, and death is there
3
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death - and we are death.
Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,
First our pleasures die - and then
Our hopes, and then our fears - and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust - and we die too.
All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves, must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot Love itself would, did they not. (660)
This short, simple, and unfinished poem was written in 1820. The second stanza has
only three lines instead of the four of the other quatrains. Surprisingly, the Brazilian
translation is also incomplete but for different aspects. The last quatrain was omitted but the
translator intriguingly decided to “complete” the missing line of the original second stanza by
adding a strange fourth line: “No Belo, - no Deforme, - na ação, no crime”, whose equivalent
is not found in the complete edition of Shelley’s works. Rosa does not explain his
“contribution” to the original by adding one line that was not written by Shelley neither for
the deletion of the original last stanza in his translation.
Death was the favorite theme of the romantics, especially those young Brazilian poets
much influenced by the French Lamartine and Musset, and the English, mainly Byron. The
presence of Byron was so strong in the cultural life of Brazil that many critics called that
period of literary history as “Byronism” or “Byronmania”. Comparing the original and its
amputated version, one can find out that death motifs and the verb “to die” are more
emphasized in the translation than in the original. In the translation “morte” (death) is
personified in capital letters and its verb “morrer” is repeated four times in the last quatrain
whereas it occurs only twice in the third stanza of the original poem.
4
Rosa tried to follow Shelley’s melodious rhythm and fixed rhymes. The lyrical
original couplets were transformed into abab cddc effe scheme, more suitable for poetry in
Portuguese. The translator also made an effort to keep the profusion of alliterations of the
original poem. He was successful to translate the conciseness of the original, for instance, the
line “all around, within, beneath” into “acima, abaixo, em torno, ontem, mais tarde, agora”.
Though with more words but keeping the same poetic sense.
Being a well-reputed journalist and a notorious politician, Rosa won an immense
prestige in the decaying Royal Court of Rio de Janeiro (the Republic was proclaimed in
1889). As a poet and writer, his merits are very limited. Sílvio Romero (1851-1914), the
temperamental critic and as such a Sainte-Beuve’s disciple, underrated Rosa’s literary values.
“His poems”, he wrote, “are remains of a wary Classicism or shy steps into the paths of a
colorless Romanticism”(875).³ With regard to Álvares de Azevedo, another Brazilian admirer
of Shelley, Romero wrote that the young poet “sickened his spirit with a disorderly reading of
the romantics such as Byron and Shelley” (952).
Other critic, Agripino Grieco, also made caustic remarks about Rosa, whom he
included under the title of “minor poets” in the Brazilian romanticism. “I do not know
whether you remember this Otaviano”, he wrote. “He was a Senator of the Brazilian Empire
who knew English and had attitudes of a provincial gentleman”. “Today”, Grieco adds with a
sarcastic mood, “he is much depreciated, delicious in the unpremedidated poems and
soporific in the poems he wrote slowly”4 (30).
Although being a poet with limited merits, Rosa achieved a solid reputation as
journalist and politician. He is considered the founder of the Brazilian chronicle, as a literary
genre. But it is as a translator of English poets, mainly Shakespeare, Ossian, Pope, Shelley,
and, above all, Byron, that he is still remembered in the studies of nineteenth-century
Brazilian literature. His translations are quite elegant and as such “infidèles”. They incarnate
much more of his poetic personality, deeply influenced by the Byronism of his time as a
student at the Law school of São Paulo, the Mecca of a prodigious but naïve byronmania.
Translations of Shelley’s works have been published in Brazil up to our days.
Oswaldino Marques (1916-2003), poet, dramatist, and a perceptive critic translated three
fragments of Shelley5: “A Widow Bird Sate Mourning for her Love”, (Num galho batido da
invernia…), from the last lines of the drama Charles the First; “To---” (À…), a two-stanza
poem from the poems written in 1821 whose first line reads: “Music, when soft voices die”
5
(Quando da música cessam as ternas vozes); and “Hymn to the Spirit of Nature” (Hino ao
espírito da natureza), which are 24 lines taken from Prometheus Unbound, (act II, scene V).
The first lines became famous “Life of Life! thy lips enkindle / With their love the breath
between them” (Vida da Vida! Teus lábios incendeiam / De amor o alento que por eles
escapa);
The 544 lines of the unfinished The Triumph of Life, Shelley´s last poem, were
translated in a bilingual edition in 2001.6 A Defense of Poetry was the last translation
published in Brazil, some years after the Portuguese version.7
Machado de Assis
Of all Brazilian writers touched by Shelley’s poetical inspiration, Machado de Assis
(1839-1908) is the greatest and the one who knew better how to delve into the superb
craftsmanship of the Poet’s poet, epitome that fits Shelley like a glove. In a chronicle dated
15 November 1896, writing about the transitory life of human being and the immutability of
nature, Machado de Assis, in a short passage, links Shelley’s two last lines of “Mutability”
(“Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like morrow; / Naught may endure but Mutability”) to line 4,
chapter 1, of Ecclesiastes (“One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but
the earth abideth for ever”), as support for his own thoughts on the contrast between the
steadiness of earth and the mobility of mankind.8
The major English influences upon Machado de Assis have been established and
scanned by comparatists. In this field, his main sources include Shakespeare, Sterne, Swift,
Fielding, Thackeray, and Dickens. The case with Shelley was very impressive because he
created his last novel, Counselor Ayres’ Memorial, printed in Paris only three months before
his death in 1908, having a single line from the poet as a recurrent motif throughout the
novel.
This novel represents the most autobiographical fictional work by Machado de Assis.
It can be regarded as a summing up of his brilliant career as a prolific writer. It is, in fact, his
literary testament. The author himself made all efforts to make sure that the novel would be
the last of his works. In many occasions, especially in the letters to his circle of close friends
he pointed out exhaustively his decision. For instance, in a letter (7 February 1907) to
6
Joaquim Nabuco, he wrote: “I do not know whether I will have time to shape up and put to an
end a book I am meditating on and outlining it; if I can, it will be, for sure, the last”9(1078).
He sent the manuscript to his friend Mario de Alencar (1872-1925), a young minor
poet (he was son of José de Alencar) to whom Machado dedicated a paternal devotion. In the
cover letter of 22 December 1907, he reminded Alencar, “I repeat what I said to you verbally,
my dear Mario, I believe this will be my last book; strength and eyes fail to me; furthermore
time is short and work is slow”10 (1084).
In a letter to Joaquim Nabuco (28 June 1908), he reiterates: “In a little time Garnier
will publish my book; it is the last. My age gives me neither time nor strength to start another
one. I will send you a copy. I turned sixty-nine on 21st; now I enter the order of the
septuagenarians”11 (1090).
The printed copies of the novel sent from Paris arrived in early July. Machado
speeded up the distribution to his friends. To José Veríssimo (letter of 19 July), he remarked:
“The book is the last one; I am not in the age for literary follies nor for others” 12 (1090). To
Joaquim Nabuco (1 August), he wrote: “There goes my Counselor Ayres’ Memorial. You
will tell me what it looks like to you. I insist in saying that it is my last book; besides being
weak and ill, I am getting old; I entered in the seventies, my dear friend”13 (1092).
Finally, and just to give another example, Machado de Assis, on the same date of the
letter before, wrote do Oliveira Lima: “This has the purpose of telling you I did not die yet –
so much so that I send you a new book. I called it Counselor Ayres’ Memorial. But this new
book is indeed the last. I have no strength and I am not in mood to sit down and start another
one; I am old and worn-out”14 (1091).
In fact, and tragically ironical, the novel was the last Machado de Assis wrote. He
died two months at the dawn of 29 September 1908. As Shelley, he suffered from epilepsy,
disease he was ashamed of and tried to hide even from close friends all his life. Mário de
Alencar was the only confidant he trusted in that secret, but familiar to his friends who
pretended not to know it. In his last letter to him (29 August) Machado said he was reading a
biography of Flaubert and had discovered they suffered from the same illness, but do not
mention its name. Alencar knew it already.
7
Word profaned
The recurrent theme of the impossibility of love that inspired Machado de Assis to
write his novel is the line 9 from the poem “To---”, which reads in full:
To --ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
5
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
II
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
10
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not, -The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
16
From the sphere of our sorrow? 683)
This poem was written in 1821 but only included in Posthumous Poems, published in
1824. The addressee is the “magnetic” Jane Williams, with whom Shelley was in love. The
impossibility of love between them relies on the fact that both were married and their spouses
were close friends. Most of Shelley’s last lyrics and verse letters, which were kept secret
from Mary Shelley, his wife, had Jane as intimate confidante. Mary discovered these poems
and letters after her husband’s death, drowned with Jane´s husband in mysterious
circumstances. Even with a feeling of deep hurt, Mary Shelley not only preserved the
originals but published them in the mentioned 1824 edition to which she wrote a very short
preface where she made an effort to show no resentment towards her beloved husband.
8
“His life was spent in the contemplation of Nature, in arduous study, or in acts of
kindness and affection. He was an elegant scholar and a profound metaphysician” (xi), she
wrote, trying to avoid unveiling his private life and turbulent love affairs. She recalls only the
poet’s male friends: Leigh Hunt and Mr. Williams. Not a single word about Jane.
Fifteen years later, Mary supervised the first collected edition of her husband’s works
to which she wrote a moving preface. The passing of time did not encourage her to write
about intimacies, “I abstain from any remark on the occurrences is his private life /…/ This is
not the time to relate the truth; and I should reject any colouring of the truth” (vii), she warns
the reader from the beginning.
Making an effort to be sober, and being hard working and diligent scholar, Mary
classifies Shelley’s poetry in two categories: “His poems may be divided into two classes, the pure imaginative, and those which sprang from the emotions of his heart”. “The second
class”, she adds, “is, of course, the more popular, as appealing at once to emotions common
to all”(viii).
She almost gave the key to the poem under analysis when she manages to define
Shelley’s conception of love as being “exalted, absorbing, allied to all that is purest and
noblest in our nature.” But she was unable to go further into the deep meaning of those
poems addressed to Jane. She skips the subject that brought pain to her by saying: “Yet he
was usually averse to expressing these feelings [of love], except when highly idealized; and
many of more beautiful effusions he had cast aside unfinished, and they were never seen by
me till after I had lost him” (viii).
Although desperately in love with Jane, who made no effort to dissuade the poet from
corresponding to his sentiments, Shelley sublimated his carnal passion and sex drive in this
perfect lyrical Platonism. His revolt against social conventions is surrendered by his ideal of
a perfect love could exist in the material world. The impossibility of love majestically
condensed in the line “I can give not what men call love”, probably Shelley’s most quoted
line, is twofold: his is married and loves his virtuous woman, and Jane is a married woman
with his best friend. Thus not to hurt even more his beloved wife, to whom he had been
unfaithful in the past, but moreover not to betray his intimate friend, Shelley chose the
Platonic solution through this beautiful love-song.
A witty counselor
9
Counselor Ayres’ Memorial is Machado de Assis’ most autobiographical novel. It
represents the summing-up of his brilliant career as a writer who never left Brazil. He barely
attended a formal school but is an astonishing example of self-education and encyclopedic
knowledge despite being very poor, mulatto, motherless, short-sighted, short-sized, shy,
stammerer and epileptic.
Structuralist-oriented critics tend no minimize or to neglect the biographical aspects
of the novel by putting emphasis solely on the inner literary qualities of the text. This
attitude, however, has no grounds because the author himself admitted that the loving old
Carmo, one of the major characters of the novel, was a portrait of his wife Carolina, deceased
four years before.
Mario de Alencar was honored with the privilege of reading the manuscript. In a letter
(16 December 1907) to Machado de Assis he was the first to identify the model for the “true”
and “sacred” Dona Carmo as being Carolina, “The world should admirer her [Dona Carmo]
and has to admire her as an art creation; I, who guessed the model, read it moved, full of
respect by the sweet evocation.”15 (257)
Six days later Machado de Assis acknowledges Alencar for his favorable criticism:
“The letter you sent me breathes enthusiasm that I am far from deserving it, but it is sincere
and shows you have read it with soul. This is why you found the intimate model of one of the
characters of the book that I tried to make it complete without a particular purpose, unless the
one that evinces the human truth” (261)16
In a letter of 8 February 1908 Machado de Assis urges Alencar not to tell anybody
that “secret”: “I take the opportunity to recommend you strongly, in respect of Carmo´s
model, not to trust in anybody; it should remain between us”(272)17. Alencar followed the
master´s appeal and reassured it in a letter of 20 February: “ I will not tell anybody that
presumption I had and proved to be true on the model for Dona Carmo. In this respect your
confidence was not badly used; I will do my best to correspond to such a high proof of
affection” (274)18.
The naïve secret between the writer and Alencar was unveiled as soon as the novel
was published and released in early July. The perceptive critic José Veríssimo was the first to
appoint the incarnation of Carolina in Dona Carmo ever since the copies of the novel were
10
sold in the Garnier bookstore. His letter of 18 July 1908 to Machado de Assis leaves no doubt
about it. Let us quote it in full:
My dear Machado
have just finished reading (it is 11 AM now) your Counselor Ayres’ Memorial
that I brought from Garnier yesterday. Perhaps Mário [de Alencar] would have told
you I had the intention to go today, since that was not possible yesterday, to offer you
my congratulations on your new book. A cold that hurt my miserable throat and so it
did not allow me to have that pleasure. Accept, however, with this letter, my
admiration from the bottom of my heart.
What a fine and pretty book you wrote! Grant me the vanity to believe I have
appreciated and understood it. Old Ayres (that is how he looks on himself.) is a good
and generous fellow with the sole fault of willing to hide it. We were used to your
delightful portraits of women, but believe me, you overdid with Dona Carmo. Ah, it is
true that the great art does not discharge the help of heart…
Get well soon, or better, recovery, life, and health, to give us the rest of the
memoirs of this enchanting old who is my loveable Ayres”19 (219).
Of all the many critics on Machado de Assis’ last novel, Eugênio Gomes (1897-1972)
was the one who wrote more extensively on the relationship between Shelley and the
Brazilian writer.20 The others merely mention the fact that Ayres quotes the poet without
going into further details. Gomes not only translated the poem “To---” in prose form, but also
tried to explain the “cause or obstacle” that impelled Ayres to repeat constantly that line of
Shelley.
To Eugênio Gomes what matters is to know whether the old diplomat was truly
aroused by love in that stage of tranquil life. Although posing the question, Gomes does not
give an answer to it and confines himself to point out the reincarnation of Ayres in other
characters in Machado de Assis’ works.
Shelley and his line are masterfully evoked six times interwoven with the plot. In the
first time the poet is mentioned with the novelist Thackeray: “Spent the day leafing through
11
books, in particular, reread some Shelley, and also some Thackeray. One consoled me for the
other, the other freed me from the former’s spell. Thus does genius complete genius, and the
mind learn the various languages of the mind” (16) 21. As it is explicit in the text, that
moment was a retaking of Shelley; it is a rereading of the poet, which indicates that Ayres
was his habitual reader.
The sexual attraction for the young and charming widow Fidelia arises from the
beginning of the narration when Ayres saw her praying at her husband’s tomb in the
cemetery. But it is from the third time on when he sees her at the old Aguiar couple’s silver
wedding dinner that the old man starts depicting her sensually in terms like “I found her no
less tempting than on that day in the cemetery … and no less strikingly beautiful either”, “she
is pliant and soft”, “her skin is smooth and clear”, “her cheeks have a ruddy glow”.
Thrown into sexual ecstasy for a dizzy moment, Ayres remembers Shelley’s line to
comfort himself:
No more was needed to complete a figure interesting in gesture and
conversation. After the first few seconds of inspection, there is what I thought of her
person. I did not immediately think in prose, but in verse as it happened, in a line of
Shelley, whom I had been rereading at home, as I mentioned above, a verse from one
of his stanzas of 1821:
I can give not what men call love.
Just so I quoted it to myself in English; but then, right after, I repeated the
poet’s confession in our prose and with a close of my own composition: ´I cannot give
what men call love… and it’s a pity!’(19)
Ayres’ added expression to Shelley’s line (“it’s a pity!”) reinforces is conscious from
the very beginning that he was not match for Fidelia. After dinner more guests arrived and
old Ayres stayed in the living room watching the “alluring charm of Fidelia’s youthfulness”.
For a while that line kept beating on his mind: “Shelley kept whispering in my ear, so that I
could say it over to myself, ‘I can give not what men call love’” (21).
He confesses his fears to his confident sister, and she said: “It was sour grapes, that is,
because I feared I could not overcome the lady’s resistance, I pretended I was incapable of
12
loving. And she seized the opportunity to again pronounce a eulogy of Fidelia’s wifely
devotion” (21).
But the young hero Tristão comes to scene and the old diplomat had to reconcile to
himself: “The eyes that I turned upon the widow Noronha were those of pure admiration,
without the least notion of another sort as in the first days of this year. The truth is that even
then I cited the verse from Shelley; but it is one thing to cite verses, another to believe in
them” (83). Failing to accept the meaning of that line, Ayres succumbs to reality; “Although I
did not then give my whole faith to the English poet, I give it to him now, and I here renew it
to myself. Admiration is enough” (83).
The mutual attraction of the couple is very much predictable to the reader, but the
narrator refuses to face that fact by stimulating his false uncertainty: “I believe Tristão has
fallen in love with Fidelia … My impression is that he has fallen in love, or he is beginning to
fall in love, with the widow” (135), hardly accepting reality.
Few months later, he has to recover his senses: “At last they love each other. The
widow fled from him and from herself as long as she could, but now she can no longer flee.
Now she appears to belong to him; she laughs with him, and on the 9th [second anniversary of
her husband’s death] she will probably weep for him, unless he stops the flow of her tears
with a gesture. The visits are now daily, the dinners frequent” (153).
In the cemetery on the occasion of Miranda’s burial, Ayres has the idea of visiting the
grave of Noronha. Shelley’s line is once again evoked, this time on the dead’s lips: “Now that
the widow is about to bury him all over again, I thought it would be interesting to take a look
at it, if it is not that I would have found a certain relish in attributing to the dead man the
verse of Shelley’s that I had placed on my own lips, in respect to the same fair lady: I can,
etc”(169). So the theme of the impossibility of love reappears: it is impossible for a dead man
to love.
Irony of the ironies. Ayres is invited by Tristão to be his best man. He accepts the
invitation evidently “without great pleasure”. The last reconciliation with himself occurs with
the wedding: “At last, married!”. Three months later the couple embarked for Lisbon. Ayres
goes to say goodbye on the wharf. When he comes home, Fidelia’s image revives in his spirit
and he makes an effort not to accept the reality condensed in that verse by Shelley, for the
last time in the novel:
13
I will not close this page without mentioning that just now there appeared
before me the figure of Fidelia, exactly as I left her on board ship, but without tears.
She sat on the sofa and we looked at each other… she dissolved in charm, I giving the
lie to Shelley with all the sexagenarian strength left in me.(193)
The theme of the impossibility of love has been depicted by many writers since
Plato. Masters include Dante, Petrarca , Camões, and the romantics. Machado de Assis,
inspired by Shelley, gave a new facet to the old recurrent motif of resignation and
disillusionment in the character of Ayres, an old retired widowed diplomat who, although
burning with desire for the charming Fidelia, has to compromise on leaving her for the young
Tristão, a reminiscent hero of the medieval narrative.
14
NOTES
Earlier version of this article was delivered at the 17th Triennial Congress of the
International Comparative Literature Association, August 8-15, in Hong Kong.
¹ In addition to Byron, many other British writers were higher praised in Brazil than in
England. The most notorious examples are Oscar Wilde, Conan Doyle, Rudyard Kipling, and
Lewis Carroll.
² For an account of Byron´s translations and his literary fortune in Brazil, see Onédia
Célia de Carvalho Barboza´s Byron no Brasil: traduções (São Paulo: Ática, 1975). The
author proves through textual analysis that many of the translations in Portuguese were made
indirectly from French as the source language and not English.
³ The original reads: “São restos de um classicismo estafado, ou tímidos passos na
vereda de um romantismo incolor”.
“Não sei se se lembram desse Otaviano... Era um senador do Império, que sabia
4
inglês e tinha atitudes de gentil-homem rural” (...) agora está depreciado ... delicioso nas
poesias improvisadas e soporífero nas poesias feitas devagarinho...”
5
Marques, Oswaldino. O livro de ouro da poesia de língua inglesa. 2.ed. Rio de
Janeiro: Ediouro, 1989.
6
7
O triunfo da vida. Translated by Leonardo Froes. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco, 2001.
Defesas da poesia. Trans. Enid Abreu Dobránszky. São Paulo: Iluminuras, 2002.
The Portuguese translation was done by J. Monteiro-Grillo and edited by Guimarães editors.
8
Machado de Assis’s own words are: “Uma geração passa, outra geração lhe sucede,
mas a terra permanece firme”(739).
9
“Não sei se terei tempo de dar forma e termo a um livro que medito e esboço; se
puder, será certamente o ultimo.”
10
Repito o que lhe disse verbalmente, meu querido Mário, creio que esse será o meu
último livro; faltam-me forças e olhos outros; além disso o tempo é escasso e o trabalho é
lento.
11
Daqui a pouco a casa Garnier publicará um livro meu, e é o último. A idade não me
dá tempo nem força de começar outro; lá lhe mandarei um exemplar. Completei no dia 21
sessenta e nove anos; entro na ordem dos septuagenários.
12
O livro é derradeiro; já não estou mais em idade de folias literárias nem outras.
15
13
Lá vai meu Memorial de Aires. Você me dirá o que lhe parece. Insisto em dizer que
é o meu último livro; além de fraco e enfermo, vou adiantado em anos, entrei na casa dos
setenta, meu querido amigo.
14
Esta tem por fim dizer-lhe que ainda não morri, tanto que lhe remeto um livro novo.
Chamei-lhe Memorial de Aires. Mas este livro novo é deveras o último. Agora já não tenho
forças nem disposição para me sentar e começar outro; estou velho e acabado.
15
O mundo poderá admirá-la e há de admirá-la como criação de arte; eu, que
adivinhei o modelo, li-o comovido, cheio do respeito pela doce evocação.
16
A carta que me mandou respira toda um entusiasmo que estou longe de merecer,
mas é sincera e mostra que me leu com alma. Foi também por isso que achou o modelo
íntimo de uma das pessoas do livro, que eu busquei fazer completa sem designação
particular, nem outra evidência que a da verdade humana.
17
“Aproveito a ocasião para lhe recomendar muito que, a respeito do modelo de
Carmo, nada confie a ninguém; fica entre nós dois.”
18
“... nem a ninguém direi aquela presunção que fiz e acertou de ser verdadeira, sobre
o modelo de Dona Carmo. A esse respeito a sua confiança não foi mal usada; e eu farei por
corresponder a tão alta prova de afeição.”
19
“Meu caro Machado
Acabo de ler (são onze horas da manhã) o seu Memorial de Ayres, que ontem trouxe
da Garnier. Como talvez lhe dissesse o Mário, eu tencionava ir hoje, já que não me foi
possível ir ontem mesmo, dar-lhe o meu abraço de cumprimentos pela aparição do seu novo
livro. Mas um resfriado, que me atacou muito a minha miserável garganta, não me deixa ter
essa satisfação. Aceite, porém, nesta aquele abraço, que é, de todo o coração, de admiração e
de amor. – Que fino e belo livro você escreveu! Consinta-me a vaidade de crer que o entendi
e o compreendi. O velho Ayres (é ele mesmo que se quer considerar assim) decididamente é
um bom e generoso coração: apenas com o defeito de o querer esconder. Você já nos tinha
acostumado às suas deliciosas figuras de mulher, mas creia-me, excedeu-se em D. Carmo.
Ah! Como é verdade que a grande arte não dispensa a colaboração do coração... Desejo-lhe
melhoras, ou melhor, restabelecimento e vida e saúde, para nos dar os resto do Memorial
desse velho encantador que é o meu amado Aires.” (219)
20
See his “Aires e o amor” in Machado de Assis. Rio de Janeiro: Livraria S. José,
1958, p.170-174.
16
21
All quotations from Machado de Assis’ novel are taken from Counselor Ayres’
Memorial, translated by Helen Caldwell (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982).
WORKS CITED
Grieco, Agripino. Evolução da poesia brasileira. Rio de Janeiro: Ariel, 1932.
Machado de Assis. Obra completa. 8th ed. 3 vols. Rio de Janeiro: Aguilar, 1992.
---. Correspondência. Coligida e anotada por Fernando Py. Rio de Janeiro: Jackson, 1937.
Romero, Sílvio. História da literatura brasileira. 6th ed. 5 vols. Rio de Janeiro: José
Olympio, 1960.
Rosa, Francisco Otaviano de Almeida. Traduções e poesias. Rio de Janeiro: Moreira &,
Maximiliano, 1881.
Shelley, Percy Bysshe. The Complete Poems with notes by Mary Shelley. New York:
Modern Library, 1994.
17