LETTEJtS TOll TOUITG FOET

L
 RAINER MARIA RILKE

In Translations by M. D. Herter Norton

Letters to a Young Poet

Sonnets to Orpheus

Wartime Letters to Rainer Maria Rilke

Translations from the Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke

The Lay of the Love and Death of Cornet Christopher Rilke

The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

Stories of God

Translated by Jane Bannard Greene and M. D. Herter Norton

Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke. Volume One. 1892-1910

Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke. Volume Two. 1910-1926

Translated by David Young

Duino Elegies

In Various Translations

Rilke on Love and Other Difficulties. Translations and

Considerations of Rainer Maria Rilke

Compiled by John J. L. Mood

Translated by Edward Snow and Michael Winkler

Diaries of a Young Poet

fil\II1Efi UI\fiii\ fiiLKE
LETTEITS TO ll IOUITG FOET

Translation by M. D. Herter Norton

Revi sed Edition

W. W. Norton & Company New York London

L
 Copyright 1934 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

Renewed 1962 by M. D. Herter Norton

Revised edition copyright 1954 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

Reissued in Norton paperback 2004

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3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0
 COITTEITTS

TRANSLATO R'S NOTE 9

I NTRODUCTION I I

T H E LETTERS 1 3

C H RO N I C L E , 1 903-1 908 59
 TfiJU1SLJ\TOfi'S nOTE

n ow these l etters ca me to be written is told by t h e i r reci pient i n

h i s i n t roduction . a n d t o t h i s there wou l d b e noth i n g t o add
were it not for the cl ose of the eighth l etter: " Do not bel ieve that
he who seeks to com fort you l ives u ntroubled among the s i m p l e
and qu iet words that someti mes do y o u good . H i s l i fe has m u ch
d i fficu lty and sadness . . . . Were it otherwise he wou l d never have
been a b l e to find those word s . " It is evident that a great a rtist.
wh atever the i m m ediate conditions d i sturb i n g h i s own l i fe , may
be able to clarify for the benefit of another those fundamental
truths the conviction of w h i ch l i es too deep i n his con sciousness
to be reached by exte rnal agitat ions. Though R i l ke expresses h i m ­
s e l f w i t h a w i sdom and a k i n d n ess t h a t seem t o refl ect the ca l m o f
sel f-possession . h i s s p i rit m a y have been speaking o u t of i t s own
need rather t h a n from the secu rity of ends ach i eved . so that h i s
words i ndeed refl ect des i re rather t h a n fu l fi l l ment. I n w h a t sort
t h i s was the case becomes appa rent on perusa l of the severa l vol ­
u mes of h i s correspondence. From t h e s e , for the m o s t pa rt , the
accom pa nying ch ron i c l e of the yea rs 1 903-1 908 has been pre­
pared . I t shows what R i l ke was goi n g t h rough in h i s own relation­
ship to l i fe a n d work at the period i n q uestion (he tu rned
twenty-eight in December. 1 90 3 ) . Perhaps such a record may in a

g
m ea s u re exp l a i n . too, why sympathy was a lways so respons ive a n
e l e m e n t of h i s n a t u re . Cert a i n ly-despite l o w physical vital ity
that often red uced h i m to act u a l i l l - h e a l t h , despite lack of f u n d s
a n d homeless wa ndering i n sea rch of t h e right places a n d c i rc u m ­
stances for h i s work. despite a l l t h e s u b j ect ive fret a n d h i n d ra n ce
beca u s e of wh ich, some t h i n k to see i n h i m a m o rb i d l y con d i ­
t i oned fa ntasy-th e l ege n d of t h e wea ry poet i s d i s p e l l e d . a n d i n
t h e e n d w e fi nd h i m a l ways yo u n g , a l ways constructive. t h e e m i ­
n e n t l y pos i t i ve p h i losopher of these lette rs .

New York, October. 1 9 3 4

I n rev1smg t h e text fo r t h e present ed i t i o n t h e t ra n s lator i s

i n debted to H e rbert Ste i n e r for m a n y h e l pfu l crit i c i s m s a n d s u g ­
gest i o n s .

Washington , D . C . , Febr uary, 1 9 54

1 0 Ltmns TO n munG ron

 ITITITODUCTIOTI

� itting
I
t was in the late a u t u m n of I 902-1 was under some
a n cient chest n u ts 1n the park of the Mil itary Academy in
Wiener- N e ustadt. read i n g . So deeply was I absorbed i n my book, I
sca rcely noticed when the only civi l i a n among o u r professors , the
Academy's learned and kindly Parson Horacek, came to join me.
H e took the vo l u m e from my h a n d , contempl ated the cover, and
shook h i s head . " Poems of Rainer Maria R i l ke?" he asked reflec­
tively. H e then tu rned the pages here and t here, skim med a cou­
ple of verses, gazed thoughtfu l l y i nto the d i stance, and fi n a l ly
nodded . "So o u r p u p i l Rene R i l ke has become a poet . "
A n d I lea rned of the t h i n , p a l e boy, whom h i s parents h a d sent
more than fifteen yea rs ago to the Lower M i l itary School at Sankt­
Polten so that he m ight later become a n offi cer. Horacek had been
chapl a i n to that i nstitution at the t i m e , and he st i l l remem bered
h i s former student perfect ly. H e descri bed h i m as a q u i et. serious,
h i g h l y endowed boy, who l i ked to keep to h i m se l f. patiently
e n d u red the com p u l s i ons of boardi ng-school l i fe and a fter h i s
fou rth yea r moved o n w i t h the others i n t o the M i l ita ry Col l ege,
which was situated at Mah risch-Wei sski rchen . H ere i n deed it
beca me apparent that h i s constitution cou l d not sta nd the stra i n ,
for w h i ch reason h i s parents removed h i m from t h e school a n d l et

II
h i m cont i n u e h i s studies at h o m e i n Prague. H ow the cou rse of h i s
l i fe had s i nce s h a ped itself H o racek cou l d n ot say.
After a l l t h i s it is n ot h a rd to u n dersta n d how I determ i n ed i n
that ve ry h o u r t o send m y poet i c atte m pt s t o R a i n e r M a r i a R i l ke
a n d to a s k h i m for h i s op i n i o n . Not yet twenty, a n d close on t h e
t h re s h o l d of a profession wh ich I fel t to be e n t i re l y contrary to m y
i n c l i n a t i o n s . I h o p e d to f i n d u n dersta n d i n g , i f i n a n y o n e . i n t h e
poet who had written M ir z ur Feier . And w i t h o u t having i n te n ded
to do so at a l l , I fou n d myse l f w r i t i n g a cove r i n g letter in wh ich I
u n reserved ly l a i d bare my h e a rt as never befo re a n d never s i n ce
to a n y second h u m a n b e i n g .
M a n y weeks p a s s e d before a rep l y ca m e . The b l ue-sealed l et­
ter bore the post m a rk of Pari s , weighed h eavy in the h a n d , a n d
s h owed o n t h e envelope t h e s a m e bea u t i fu l , clear. s u re c h a rac­
ters i n wh ich t h e text was set down fro m t h e fi rst l i n e to t h e l a s t .
W i t h it bega n m y reg u l a r correspondence with R a i n e r M a r i a R i l ke
w h i c h l a sted u n t i l 1 908 a n d t h e n grad u a l ly petered out beca u se
l i fe d rove me off i nto those ve ry reg i o n s fro m wh ich t h e poet's
warm . tender and touch i n g concern had sought to keep m e .
But t h a t i s n ot i m po rta n t . O n l y t h e t e n letters a re i m portant
that fo l l ow here, i m po rtant fo r a n u nd e rsta n d i n g of t h e world in
which Rainer Maria R i l ke l i ved a n d worke d , a n d i m po rtant too fo r
m a n y g row i n g a n d evo l v i n g s p i rits of today a n d tomo rrow. And
w h e re a g reat a n d u n i q u e man speaks, s m a l l m e n s h o u l d keep
s i l e nce.

Fra n z Xaver Kappus

Berlin, J une 1 929

12 mms TO n munG ron

 TtlE LETTEITS

L
 onr

Paris .
February 17th. 1903

My dear s i r.

You r l etter o n l y reached me a few days ago. I wa nt to thank

you for its great and kind confidence . I ca n h a rdly do more. I ca n­
not go i nto the natu re of you r verses; fo r all critical i ntention i s
t o o fa r from me. W i t h not h i ng c a n one approach a work of a rt s o
l i ttle as w i t h critical words: they always come down to more o r
l e s s ha ppy m i s u nde rsta n d i n g s . Thi ngs a re· not a l l so comprehen­
sible and expres s i b l e as one wou ld mostly have u s bel ieve ; most
events a re i n expres s i b l e , taking place in a rea l m which no word
has ever entered , and m ore i n express i b l e than a l l else a re works
of a rt . mysteri ous exi stences. the l i fe of w h i c h . w h i l e o u rs passes
away, e n d u res.
After these prefatory rema rks. l et me only tell you fu rther that
you r verses have no i n d i v i d u a l sty l e . a l though they do show q u i et
and h i dden begi n n ings of somet h i ng person a l . I fee l t h i s most
clearly in the last poem , "My Sou l . " There somet h i ng of you r own
wants to come t h rough to word and melody. And in the l ovely
poem "To Leopa rd i" there does perhaps grow u p a sort of k i n s h i p
with that great s o l i t a ry m a n . N evertheless the poems a re n o t yet
anyth i ng on t h e i r own accou nt. not h i ng i ndependent, even the
last a n d the o n e to Leopa rd i . You r k i n d l etter, w h i c h acco m p a n i e d
t h e m , d o e s not fa i l to m a ke clear to m e va rious s h o rtco m i ngs
which I fe lt in rea d i n g you r verses without however being a b l e
specifica l ly to n a m e t he m .
You a s k whether you r verses a re good . Yo u a s k m e . You have
asked others befo re . Yo u send them to magazi n e s . You com p a re
t h e m with ot h e r poe m s , a n d you a re d i s t u rbed w h e n certa i n e d i ­
tors rej ect yo u r effo rt s . N ow ( s i n ce you h a v e a l l owed m e to advise
yo u ) I beg you to give u p all t h a t . You a re looki n g outwa rd , and
that a bove all you should not do now. N o body can co u n sel and
help yo u , n obody. There i s only one s i ngle way. Go i nto you rse l f.
Sea rch for t h e reason that b i d s you write; f i n d out whether it i s
sprea d i n g out i t s roots i n the deepest p l aces of yo u r heart,
acknowl edge to yo u rse l f whether you wo u l d have to die i f i t were
den ied you to write. T h i s a bove a l l-a s k yo u rs e l f i n the s t i l lest
hour of y o u r night: must I write? Delve i nto you rse l f for a deep
a n swer. And i f t h i s s h o u l d be a ffi rmative, i f you may meet t h i s
ea rnest q u estion w i t h a strong a n d s i m p l e " I must," t h e n b u i l d
yo u r l i fe acco rd i n g to t h i s necessity; yo u r l i fe even i nto i t s m ost
i n d i ffe re n t a n d s l ightest hour m u st be a s i g n of this u rge and a
test i m o n y to i t . Then d raw n e a r to N a t u re . Then t ry, l i ke some fi rst
h u m a n b e i n g , to say what you see and experience and l ove a n d
l o s e . Do not write love-po e m s ; avo id at fi rst t h ose fo rms that a re
too fac i l e a n d com m o n p lace: they a re t h e most d i fficu l t , fo r i t
takes a g rea t , fu l l y m a t u red power to give s o m et h i n g of y o u r own
wh ere good and even exce l l e n t t ra d i t i o n s come to m i n d in q u a n ­
t i ty. There fo re save you rse l f fro m t h ese genera l t h e m e s a n d seek
those wh ich yo u r ow n eve ryday l i fe offe rs you ; describe yo u r sor­
rows a n d des i re s , pas s i n g thoughts a n d t h e b e l i e f i n some s o rt of
bea u ty-describe a l l t h ese with lovi n g , q u iet, h u m b l e s i n cerity,

1o mrm TO n munG ron

and use. to express you rself. the th i ngs in you r environment. the
i m ages from you r drea m s , and the obj ects of you r memory. If you r
d a i l y l i fe seems poor. do not b l a m e i t ; blame you rself, te l l your­
self that you a re not poet enough to ca l l forth its riches; fo r to the
creator there i s n o poverty and n o poor i n d i fferent place. And
even i f you were i n some prison the wa l l s of which let none of the
sounds of the world come to you r senses-wou l d you not then
sti l l have you r c h i l d hood , that preci o u s . kingly possession , that
trea s u re-house of mem ories? Tu rn you r attention thither. Try to
ra ise the submerged sen sati ons of that ample past; you r person­
a l ity w i l l grow m ore fi rm. you r sol itude w i l l widen and w i l l
become a dusky dwe l l i ng past w h i ch t h e noise of others goes by
fa r away.-And if out of this turn i n g i nward. out of th i s absorption
i nto you r own world verses com e . then it w i l l not occur to you to
ask anyone whether they a re good verses .. Nor w i l l you try to i n ter­
est magazines in you r poems: for you w i l l see in them you r fond
natu ra l possess i o n . a fragment and a voice of you r l i fe . A work of
a rt i s good if it has sprung from necessity. I n th i s natu re of its ori­
gin l ies the j udgment of if: there i s n o oth er. Therefore . my dear
sir, fknow n o advice for you save th i s : to go i nto yourse l f and test
the deeps in which you r l i fe takes rise; at its sou rce you w i l l fi nd
the a n swer to the q uesti on whether you must create. Accept it.
j u st as it sou n d s . without i n q u i ring i n to it. Perhaps it will turn out
that you are ca l l ed to be a n a rtist. Then take that desti ny upon
you rse l f and bea r it, its b u rden and its greatness. without ever
asking what recom pense m i ght come from outside. For the cre­
ator m u st be a world for h i mself and find everyth ing in h i mself
and i n N ature to whom he has attached h i mself.
But perhaps a fter th i s descent i n to yourse l f and i n to you r
i n ner sol itude you w i l l have t o give u p beco m i n g a poet; ( it is

TilE LETTERS I 7
e n o u g h , as I have s a i d , to fee l that one cou ld l ive without writi n g :
then o n e m u st not attem pt i t at a l l ) . But e v e n then t h i s i nward
sea rch i n g wh ich I ask of you w i l l not have been i n va i n . You r l i fe
w i l l i n a n y case find its ow n ways thence, a n d that they may be
good , rich a n d wide I w i s h you m o re than I ca n say.
What m o re s h a l l I say to you? Everyth i n g seems to m e to
have its j u st e m p h a s i s : and a fte r a l l I do o n l y want to advise you
to keep g ro)Ni ng q u i etly and seri o u s l y th roughout you r w h o l e
development; y o u ca n n ot d i sturb it m o re r u d e l y t h a n by looking
outwa rd a n d expect i n g from o u ts i d e rep l i es to q u esti o n s that
only you r i n m ost fee l i n g i n yo u r most h u s h ed hour ca n perhaps
a n swer.
It was a p l e a s u re to me to find in you r l etter the n a m e of
Professor H o racek: I keep for that l ova b l e a n d l ea rned m a n a g reat
veneration a n d a gratitude that end u res through the yea rs . W i l l
you , please, te l l h i m h ow I fee l; it i s very good of h i m sti l l t o th i n k
of m e , a n d I know how t o a p p reciate it.
The verses wh ich you k i n d l y entru sted to m e I a m retu r n i n g at
the same t i m e. And I th a n k you once m o re fo r yo u r g reat and s i n ­
cere confidence, of w h i c h I h ave tried , t h rough th i s h o n est a n swer
given to the best of my knowledge, to m a ke myse l f a l ittl e wor­
th i e r th a n , a s a stra nger, I rea l l y a m .

Yo u rs fa ithfu l l y a n d with a l l sympathy:

Ra i n e r Maria R i l ke

1 o unm ro n rounG ron

 TWO

Viareggio , near Pisa (!tal�,� ),

April5tli, 1903

Yo u m u st fo rgive m e , my dea r s i r, fo r only today gratefu l l y

re m e m bering yo u r lette r of Febru a ry 24th: I have been unwe l l a l l
th i s ti m e , n o t exactly i l l , b u t oppressed b y a n i n fl uenza-l i ke l a s s i ­
t u d e t h a t has m a d e m e i n capa ble of anyth i n g . A n d fi nal ly, as 1
s i m ply d i d not get better, I ca m e to th i s southerly sea , the benefi­
ce nce of wh ich has helped m e once before. But I am not yet we l l ,
writing co mes h a rd to m e , a n d s o you m u st take these few l i n es
fo r m o re .
Of cou rse y o u m u st know that every l ette r of you rs wi l l always
give m e plea s u re , and only bea r with the a n swer w h i ch w i l l per­
haps often leave you em pty-handed; fo r at bottom , and j u st in the
deepest and m ost i m po rta nt thi ngs , we a re u n utte ra bly a l o n e ,
and fo r one person t o b e a b l e t o a d v i s e o r even help a nother, a lot
m u st happen , a lot m u st go wel l , a whole constel lation of thi ngs
m u st come right i n order once to succeed .
Today I wa nted to te l l you j u st two thi ngs more:
I rony: Do not let you rse l f be gove rned by it, espec i a l l y not i n
uncreative m o m ents. I n creative mom ents try t o m a ke u s e of it a s
o n e m o re m e a n s of grasping l i fe . Clea n l y u s e d , it too i s clea n , and
one need not be a s h a m ed of it; and i f you fee l you a re getting too
fa m i l i a r with it, if you fea r th i s growing i n t i m acy with it, then turn

19
to g reat a n d se r i o u s obj ects . before w h i c h it becomes s m a l l a n d
h e l p l e s s . S e e k the depth of t h i ngs: t h i t h e r i rony never descen ds­
and when you come t h u s close to the edge of g reatn e s s . test o u t
at the s a m e t i m e w h e t h e r t h i s i ro n i c attitude springs f r o m a
n ecessity of yo u r natu re. For u n de r the i n fl u ence of s e r i o u s t h i ngs
either i t w i l l fa l l from you ( i f it i s som eth i n g fortu i to u s ) . o r else it
will (if i t rea l ly i n nately belongs to yo u ) strengthen i n to a stern
i n stru m e n t and take its p l ace i n the series of too l s with w h i c h you
w i l l have to s h a pe you r a rt.
And the seco n d p o i n t about w h i c h I wanted to te l l you today
i s th i s :
Of a l l m y books j u st a few a re i n d ispensable t o m e . a n d two
even a re a l ways a m o n g my th i n g s , w h e rever I a m . They a re about
m e h e re too : the Bible, a n d the books of the g reat Da n i s h write r.
) e n s Pete r J acobse n . I wo n d e r whether you know h i s wo rks. Yo u
ca n ea s i l y get the m , for some of them have co m e o u t i n very good
tra n s lation in Recl a m 's Un iversa l L i b ra ry. Get you rse l f the l i ttl e
vo l u m e of Six Stories of ) . P. J a cobsen a n d h i s novel N iels Lyhne . a n d
sta rt o n the fi rst sto ry i n the fo rmer. ca l l ed " M oge n s . " A wo rld w i l l
co m e ove r yo u . t h e h a p p i n e s s . t h e a b u n d a n c e , t h e i n co m p re h e n ­
s i b l e i m m e n s i ty of a worl d . L i v e a w h i l e i n t h e s e books . l e a rn
from them what seems to you worth l e a rn i ng , b u t a bove a l l l ove
the m . T h i s l ove w i l l be repa i d you a t h o u s a n d a n d a t h o u s a n d
t i m e s . a n d h owever yo u r l i fe may turn ,-it w i l l . I a m certa i n of it,
r u n t h ro u g h the fa bric of yo u r g rowth a s o n e of the most i m po r­
ta n t th reads a m o n g a l l the t h reads of yo u r expe r i e n ces , d i sap­
pointments a n d j oys.
I f I a m to say fro m w h o m I have lea rned s o m eth i n g about the
natu re of creative work, about its depth and everlasti ngness ,
there a re b u t two n a m e s I ca n m e n ti o n : that of J acobsen . the

20 mms TO 11 munG ron

great. great writer, and that of Augu ste Rod i n , the scu l ptor, who
has not his equal among all a rti sts l iv i n g today.
And a l l success upon you r ways !

You rs:
Rai ner Maria R i l ke

mrmrm 2 1
 rnnrr

Viareggio , near Pisa ( I taly ) .

April 23rd , 1903

You gave me m uch j oy, my dear s i r, with you r Easter l ette r; for
it said many good th i ngs about yourself. and the way you spoke of
Jacobse n 's great and be l oved a rt s h owed me that I had not erred i n
g u i d i ng you r l i fe a n d its many questions t o this sou rce o f plenty.
N ow N iels Lyhne w i l l open up before you , a book of glories a n d
of the deeps ; the ofte n e r one rea ds it-there seems to be every­
t h i n g in it from l i fe's ve ry fa i n test frag ra nce to the fu l l big taste of
its heaviest fru its. There is noth i n g that does not seem to h a ve
been u n d e rstood , gras ped , expe rienced a n d recog n ized i n the
tre m u l o u s a fter- r i n g of m e m o ry; n o exper i e n ce h a s been too
s l i g h t . and the l east i n cident u n fo l d s l i ke a desti ny, and fate itse l f
i s l i ke a wonde rfu l , wide web i n w h i c h e a c h t h read i s g u i ded b y a n
i n fin itely te nder h a n d a n d l a i d a l o ngside a n oth e r a n d h e l d a n d
borne u p b y a h u n d red others . Yo u w i l l expe rience t h e g reat hap­
pi ness of read i n g this book fo r the fi rst time, a n d w i l l go t h rough
its co u n tless s u rprises a s i n a new d rea m . But I ca n te l l you that
l ater too one goes t h rough these books aga i n a n d aga i n with t h e
s a m e aston i s h m e n t a n d t h a t they l o s e n o n e of t h e wonderfu l
power a n d s u rrender none of t h e fa b u l o u s ness with w h i c h they
overw h e l m one at a first read i n g .
One j u st comes t o re l i s h t h e m i ncreasingly, t o be a lways more

22
gratefu l . and somehow better and si mpler in one's contem plating,
deeper i n one's belief i n l i fe , and i n l iving happier and bigger.
And later you m u st read the wonde rfu l book of the desti ny
and des i re of Marie Grubbe and J acobse n's letters and pages from
h i s d i a ry and fragments and fi n a l l y his poe m s . which ( eve n i f they
a re o n l y fa i rly we l l tra n s l ated ) l ive in everlasting sou n d . ( For th i s
pu rpose I wou l d advise y o u t o buy w h e n y o u have a chance the
bea utifu l com p l ete edition of J acobse n's works which conta i n s a l l
these. It appeared i n th ree vol umes, wel l tra n s l ated , brought out
by Eugen Diederichs i n Leipzig, and costs , I bel i eve, only 5 or 6
ma rks a vol u m e . )
In you r op i n ion of "There should have been roses . . . " (that work
of such i ncomparable delicacy and form ) you a re of cou rse quite ,
qu ite u nassa i lably right as aga i nst t h e writer of t h e i ntroduction.
And let me here promptly make a request: read as l i ttle as poss ible
of aesthetic criticism-such th i ngs are either parti san views. petri­
fied and grown senseless i n the i r l i feless i n d u ration, or they are
clever quibbli ngs in which today one view wins and tomorrow the
oppos ite. Works of art are of an i n fi n i te loneli ness and with noth ing·
so l ittle to be reached as with criticis m . Only love can grasp and
hold and be j u st toward them . Consider yourself and you r feeli ng,
right every time with regard to every such a rgumentation. discus­
sion or i ntroduction; i f you a re wrong after a l l , the natural growth of
you r i n ner l i fe w i l l lead you slowly and with time to other insights.
Leave to you r opi nions thei r own qu iet undistu rbed development,
which , like all progress , must come from deep with i n and can not be
pressed or h u rried by anyth i ng. Everything is gestation and then
bringing forth . To let each impression and each germ of a feeling
come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible,
the u nconscious, beyond the reach of one's own i nte l l igence, and

rnrnmns 23
awa it with deep h u m i l ity and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity:
that alone is l iving the a rtist's l i fe: in u n dersta n d i ng as in creating.
There i s h e re n o m e a s u r i n g with ti m e , n o yea r m atte rs , and
ten years a re noth i ng . Being a n a rtist m ea n s . n ot recko n i ng a n d
co u n t i n g , b u t r i pe n i n g l i ke t h e tree w h i c h does n ot force its s a p
a n d sta n d s con fident i n t h e storms of s p r i n g without t h e fea r that
a fter them may come n o s u m m e r. It does com e . But it comes o n l y
t o the patient, who a re there a s t h o u g h etern ity lay befo re the m ,
s o u n concernedly sti l l a n d w i d e . I learn it d a i ly, learn it with pa i n
,to w h i c h I a m gratefu l : patience i s everyth i n g !

R i c h a rd Deh m e l : H i s books a ffect m e ( a n d , i n c i de n ta l ly, s o

does the m a n w h o m I know cas u a l ly ) i n s u c h a m a n ner t h a t when
I have fou n d o n e of his bea uti fu l pages I a m a l ways afra i d of the
n ext, wh ich may u pset everyth i n g aga i n a n d tu rn what i s attrac­
tive i n to someth i n g u nworthy. You cha racte rized h i m very wel l
with the term : " l iv i n g a n d writi ng i n heat. "- And i n fact a rtistic
experience l i es so i n cred i b l y close to that of sex, to its pa i n and
its ecstasy, that the two m a n i festations a re i n deed but d i fferent
fo rms of o n e a n d the same yea r n i n g and delight. And i f i n stead of
heat o n e m i ght say-sex, sex i n the great, broa d , clean s e n s e , free
of any i n s i n uation of ecclesi astica l e rror, then h i s a rt wo u l d be
ve ry gra n d and i n fi n itely i m po rta nt. H i s poeti c power i s great,
strong a s a p r i m itive i n sti n ct; it has its own u n y i e l d i ng rhyth m s i n
itse l f a n d breaks o u t of h i m a s o u t of m o u n ta i n s .
B u t it seems that th i s power i s not a lways honest a n d without
pose. ( But this aga i n i s one of the hardest tests of the creative i n d i ­
vidua l : he m ust a l ways rem a i n u n consciou s , u n s u s pecti ng of h i s
best v i rtues, i f he wou l d n o t rob t h e m of the i r i ngen u ousness and
u n touchedness ! ) And the n , where. a s it rushes th rough h i s being, it

N m r m r o 1\ munG ron
comes to the sexu a l , it finds not qu ite so pure a man as it m ight
req u i re. H ere is no thoroughly mature and clean sex world, but one
that i s not sufficiently human, that is only male, is heat, i ntoxication
and restlessness, and laden with the old prej udices and a rrogances
with which man has di sfigured and b u rdened love. Because he loves
as man only, not as human bei ng, for this reason there is in h i s sex­
ual fee l i ng someth ing narrow, seeming wild, spitefu l , time-bou nd,
uneternal , that d i m i n ishes his a rt and makes it ambiguous and
doubtfu l . It is not i m m acu late , it i s ma rked by ti me and by passion ,
and l i ttle of it w i l l survive and endure. ( But most a rt is l i ke that ! )
Nevertheless one may deeply rejoice i n what there is o f greatness i n
i t , only o n e m u st not lose oneself i n it a n d become an adherent of
that Deh melian world which is so u nspeakably apprehensive, fu l l of
adu ltery and confusion, and so fa r from the real desti n ies that cause
more suffering than these tempora l affl icti ons but also give more
opportun ity for greatness and more cou rage for eternity.
Fi n a l ly, as to my books , I wou l d l i ke best to send you a l l that
might give you pleas u re. But I a m very poor, and my books , when
once they have appeared , no longer belong to me. I ca n n ot buy
them mysel f-a n d , a s I wou ld so often l i ke , give them to those
who wou l d be kind to them .
So I am writi ng you on a s l i p the titles ( a n d p u b l i shers) of my
most recent books (the l atest, i n a l l I bel i eve I have publi shed
some 1 2 or 1 3 ) and m u st l eave it to you , dear s i r, to order some of
them when occasion offers.
I l i ke to think of my books as i n you r possess i o n .
Fa rewel l.

You rs :
Ra i n e r M a r i a Ri l ke

rnmrrm 2)
 roun

Worpswede , near Bremen,

)UIIJ 16th, 1903

Some ten days ago I left Pa r i s , q u ite i l l a n d t i re d , a n d j o u r­

n eyed i nto a g reat n o rtherly p l a i n whose breadth a n d sti l l n ess
a n d s ky a re to m a ke me we l l aga i n . But I ca m e i nto a l o n g spe l l of
ra i n that today fo r the fi rst t i m e s h ows s i g n s of cleari n g a l ittle
ove r t h e rest lessly w i n d - b l own l a n d ; a n d I a m u s i ng th i�_ fi rst
m o m e n t of brightness to g reet you , dear s i r.
Ve ry dear M r. Kapp u s : I h ave left a l ette r from you long u n a n ­
swere d , n o t t h at I h a d fo rgotte n i t-on t h e contra ry : it w a s of t h e
sort t h a t o n e reads aga i n , w h e n o n e f i n d s t h e m a m o n g one's cor­
respondence, and I recogn ized you in it a s t h o u g h you had been
close at h a n d . It was the letter of May 2 n d , and you s u rely rem e m ­
ber i t . W h e n I read i t , a s n o w , i n t h e g reat q u i et of t h ese d i s ­
tances, I a m touched b y yo u r bea u t i f u l concern about l i fe , m o re
even t h a n I had fe lt it i n Pa ri s , w h e re everyt h i ng res o u n d s a n d
d i e s away d i fferently beca u se of t h e t o o g reat n o i s e t h a t m a kes
t h i ngs v i b rate . H e re , w h e re a n i m m e n s e cou ntry l i es about m e ,
ove r w h i ch t h e w i n d s p a s s com i ng from t h e sea s , h e re I fee l that
n o h u m a n b e i n g a nywh e re can a n swer for you those q u estions
a n d fee l i ngs that deep w i t h i n t h e m h ave a l i fe of their own ; fo r
even t h e best err i n words when t h ey a re meant to m e a n m ost
d e l i cate and a l m ost i n express i b l e t h i ngs. But I b e l i eve nevert h e -

26
less that you w i l l not have to rem a i n without a sol ution if you w i l l
h o l d t o obj ects that a re s i m i l a r t o those from w h i ch my eyes now
d raw refreshm ent. If you wi l l c l i n g to Nature. to the s i m p l e i n
Nature . t o t h e l i ttle th i ngs that hard ly a nyone sees. a n d that can
so u n expectedly become big and beyond measuring; i f you have
th i s l ove of i n con s iderable thi ngs and seek q u i te s i m ply, as one
who serves. to win the confidence of what seems poor: then
eve ryth i n g w i l l become ea s i e r. more coherent and somehow more
conci l i atory for you . not in you r i ntel l ect. perhaps, which lags mar­
vel ing beh i n d . but in you r i n most consciousness. wa king and cog­
n izance. You a re so you ng, so before a l l beginn ing, and I wa nt to
beg you , as much as I ca n . dear s i r, to be pati ent toward a l l that is
unsolved in you r heart and to try to love the q uestions themselves l i ke
locked rooms and l i ke books that a re written in a very foreign
tongue. Do not now seek the ans \N'ers , which ca nnot be given you
be�<lUS_�you wou ld not be able to l ive them. And the poi nt is. to l ive
everything. Live the questi ons now. Perhaps you w i l l then gradual ly,
without noticing it. l ive along some dista nt day into the answer.
Perhaps you do carry with i n you rself the possibil ity of shaping and
form i ng as a pa rticularly ha ppy and pure way of l iving; tra i n you rse lf
to it-but take whatever comes with great trust. and i f only it comes
out ofyou r own w i l l , out of some need of your i n m ost being, take it
upon you rse l f and hate noth ing. Sex is difficu lt; yes . But they are dif­
ficult thi ngs with which we have been charged ; al most everyth ing
serious is d i ffi cult, and everything is serious. I f you only recognize
th is and ma nage, out of you rself, out of you r own nature and ways ,
out of you r own experience and ch i ldhood and strength to achieve a
relation to sex wholly you r own (not i nfl uenced by convention and
custom ) . then you need no longer be afraid of losing yourself and
becom ing u nworthy of you r best posses s i o n .

Tll t LETTii\S 2 7
 Phys i c a l p l e a s u re is a sen s u a l experience no d i fferent from
p u re see i n g o r the p u re sensation with w h i c h a fi n e fru i t fi l l s the
ton g u e ; i t i s a g reat u n e n d i n g experience. which i s given us, a
know i n g of the wo r l d , the fu l l ness a n d the g l o ry of a l l knowi n g .
And not o u r accepta nce of it i s bad; the bad t h i n g i s that most
people m i su s e a n d s q u a n d e r t h i s experience a n d apply it as a
sti m u l a n t at the ti red spots of t h e i r l ives a n d as d i straction
i n stead of a ra l ly i n g towa rd exa lted m o m e nts . Men have made
even eati n g i nto someth i n g e l se: want on the one h a n d , s u per­
f l u i ty upon the oth e r, have d i m med the d i sti n ctness of this need ,
a n d a l l the deep, s i m p l e necessities in w h i c h l i fe renews its e l f
h a v e beco m e s i m i l a rly d u l l ed . But the i n d iv i d u a l ca n c l a r i fy t h e m
fo r h i m se l f a n d l ive them c l e a r l y ( a n d i f not the i n d ivi d u a l , w h o i s
too dependent, t h e n at l e a s t the s o l i ta ry m a n ) . H e c a n rem e m be r
that a l l bea uty i n a n i m a l s a n d p l a nts i s a q u iet e n d u ri n g fo rm of
l ove a n d longing, a n d h e ca n see a n i m a l s , a s h e sees p l a nts,
patiently a n d w i l l i n gly u n iting a n d i n c rea s i n g a n d g row i n g , not
o u t of physica l delight. n ot o u t of physical s u ffe r i n g , but bow i n g
t o necessities t h a t a re g reate r than p l ea s u re a n d pa i n a n d m o re
powerfu l t h a n w i l l a n d withsta n d i n g . 0 that m a n m ight ta ke t h i s
secret, of w h i c h the w o r l d i s fu l l even t o i t s l i ttlest t h i n g s , m o re
h u m bly to h i m se l f a n d bea r it. e n d u re it. m o re s e r i o u s l y a n d fee l
h o w terri b l y d i ffi c u l t it i s , i n stead of ta k i n g it l ightly. T h a t he
m ight be m o re reve re nt towa rd his fruitfu l n e s s , w h i c h i s b u t one,
whether it seems m e n ta l or physica l ; fo r i n te l l ectu a l creation too
spri n gs from the physica l , is of one natu re with it a n d o n l y l i ke a
gentler, m o re ecstatic a n d m o re everl asting repetition of physica l
del ight. "The thought of b e i n g c reator, of p rocreat i n g , of m a k i ng"
is n oth i n g without its conti n u o u s g reat con fi rmation and rea l iza­
tion i n the worl d , noth i n g without the t h o u s a n d fo l d concord a n ce

20 mm.s ro 11. munG rorr

from thi ngs and a n i m a l s-a nd e n j oyment of it is so indescribably
bea utifu l and rich only beca use it i s fu l l of i n herited memories of
the begetting and the bea ring of m i l l ions. I n one creative thought
a thousand forgotten n ights of love revive , fi l l i n g it with s u b l i m ity
and exa ltati o n . And those who come together in the n ight and a re
entwi ned in rocki ng del ight do an earnest work and gather sweet­
nesses , gather depth and strength for the song of some com i n g
poet. who wi l l a r i s e t o s p e a k of ecstasies beyond te l l i n g . A n d they
ca l l up the futu re ; and though they err and embrace b l i n d ly, the
futu re comes a l l the same, a new h u m a n being rises up, and on
the gro u n d of that chance which here seems con s u m mated ,
awakes the law by which a res istant vigorous seed forces its way
t h rough to the egg-ce l l that m oves open towa rd it. Do not be
bew i l d e red by the s u rfaces; in the depths a l l becomes law. And
those who l ive the secret wrong a n d badly ( a n d they a re ve ry
many) . lose it o n l y for themselves and sti l l hand it o n , l i ke a
sealed l etter, without know i n g it. And do not be confused by the
m u lti p l i city of names and the complexity of cases . Perhaps over
a l l there is a great motherhood , as com mon longing. The bea uty
of the v i rgi n , a being that ( a s you so bea utifu l ly say) "has not yet
achieved anyt h i n g , " is m otherhood that beg i n s to sense itse l f and
to p repa re , anxious and yea r n i n g . And the mother's bea uty i s
m i n istering m otherhood , and i n the old wom a n there i s a great
remembering. And even in the man there i s motherh ood , it
seems to m e , physical and spi ritua l ; his procreating i s a l so a ki nd
of giving b i rth , and giving b i rth i t i s when he creates out of i n most
fu l l ness. And perhaps the sexes a re more re l ated than we t h i n k ,
a n d the great renewa l of the w o r l d w i l l perhaps con sist i n � h i s ,
that m a n a n d m a i d , freed of a l l fa lse fee l i ngs and rel u cta nces , w i l l
seek each oth er n o t as oppos ites , b u t as brothe r and s i ster, a s

mrmrms 20
n e i g h bors. a n d w i l l come together as h u man beings , in order s i m ply,
seriously and pati ently to be in i n co m m o n the d i fficu l t sex that
h a s been laid u pon the m .
But eve ryt h i n g that may some day b e pos s i b l e to m a ny the
sol ita ry man can now prepare and b u i l d with his hands. that err
less . Therefore , dear s i r, l ove yo u r sol itude a n d bea r with sweet­
sou n d i n g l a m e n tation the s u ffe ri ng it ca uses yo u . Fo r those w h o
a re n e a r you a re fa r. you s a y , a n d that s h ows it i s begi n n i ng to
g row w i d e about yo u . And w h e n what is n e a r you is fa r, then yo u r
d i sta nce i s a l ready a m o n g the stars a n d very l a rge; re j o i ce i n your
g rowt h . i n w h i c h you natu ra l l y ca n take n o o n e with yo u . a n d be
ki n d to those who rem a i n beh i n d , and be s u re and ca l m befo re
them a n d do not torment them with yo u r dou bts a n d do n ot
frighten them with yo u r co n fidence or j oy, w h i c h they co u l d not
u n de rsta n d . Seek yours e l f some sort of s i m p l e and l oya l co m m u ­
n i ty with th e m , w h i ch need n o t necessa rily cha nge a s y o u you rse l f
becom e d i ffe re nt a n d aga i n d i ffe re nt; l ove i n t h e m l i fe i n a n u n fa ­
m i l i a r form a n d be co n s i d e rate of a g i n g peop l e , w h o fea r t h a t
bei ng-a l o n e i n w h i c h you t r u s t . Avo i d contri buting m ateri a l t o the
d ra m a that i s a l ways stretched ta ut between pa re n ts and ch i l ­
d re n ; it u s e s u p m u ch of t h e ch i l d re n 's e n e rgy a n d con s u mes the
l ove of their e l ders. which i s e ffective and wa r m i n g even i f it does
not compre h e n d . Ask n o advice from them and co u n t u pon n o
u n dersta n d i n g ; but be l i eve i n a l ove that i s being stored u p for
you l i ke an i n h erita n ce a n d trust that in t h i s love there is a
strength a n d a b l e s s i n g , o u t beyo n d w h i c h you do n ot have to
step in order to go ve ry fa r !
It i s good that you a re p resently e n teri ng a p rofess i o n that
wi l l m a ke you i n depe n d e n t and set you e n t i re l y o n you r own in
eve ry sense. Wa it pati ently to fi n d o u t whether yo u r i n n e r l i fe

30 wrm TO n munG ron

feel s cram ped by the form of this profession . I con s i der it very d i f­
ficu lt and very exacting, as it is bu rdened with great conventions
and sca rce ly leaves room for a perso n a l conception of its prob­
l e m s . But you r sol itude w i l l be a hold and home for you even
a m i d ve ry u n fa m i l i a r cond itions and from there you w i l l fi nd a l l
you r ways . A l l my wishes a re ready t o accompany you , a n d m y
confidence is with you .

You rs :
Ra i n e r Maria R i l ke

rnrmrm 3 1
 fiVE

Rome ,
October 29th, 1903

My dear s i r,

I received you r l etter of August 29th i n Florence, a n d n ot t i l l

n ow-two m o n t h s later-a m I tel l i ng y o u of i t . Forgive t h i s d i l a ­
tori n ess-but I do n ot l i ke writ i n g l etters w h i l e trave l i n g , beca use
I need m o re for l ette r-writ i n g t h a n t h e most neces s a ry i m ple­
m e n t s : s o m e q u i et a n d solitude a n d a n ot too i n cidental h o u r.
We a rrived i n Rome about s i x weeks ago, at a t i m e w h e n it
was sti l l t h e e m pty, hot, fever- d i scred ited R o m e , a n d this c i rcu m ­
stance, toget h e r with o t h e r practical d i fficulties i n gett i n g sett l ed ,
h e l ped to m a ke it seem t h a t the u n rest a ro u n d us w o u l d n ot
cease a n d t h e fore i g n n ess lay with the weight of h o m e l es s n ess
u p o n us. Add to this that R o m e (if o n e does n ot yet know it) h a s
a n oppress i ngly sad effect for t h e fi rst f e w days: t h ro u g h the l i fe­
less a n d dol efu l m u s e u m atmosph ere it exh a l e s , t h ro u g h the
a b u nda nce of its past s , fetched- forth a n d labori o u s l y u p h e l d
pasts ( o n wh ich a s m a l l p resent s u bs i st s ) . t h rough t h e i m m e n s e
overest i m a t i o n , s u sta i n ed by sava nts a n d p h i l o logists a n d copied
by t h e average t rave l e r in Ita ly, of a l l these d i sfigu red and d i l api­
dated t h i ngs , w h i c h a t bottom a re a fter all n o m o re than c h a n ce
rema i n s of a nother t i m e a n d of a l i fe t h a t is n ot a n d m u st not be

32
o u rs . Fi n a l ly, afte r weeks of being d a i l y on the defens ive, one
finds oneself aga i n , i f sti l l somewhat confused, and one says to
oneself: n o , there i s not more bea uty here than el sewhere , a n d a l l
these obj ects , cont i n uously adm i red b y generat ions a n d patched
and mended by workmen's h a n d s , sign i fy noth i ng , a re not h i n g ,
a n d have no heart a n d no value ;-but there i s m u ch beauty here ,
beca use there i s m u ch beauty eve rywh ere. Waters u n e n d i ngly fu l l
o f l i fe move along t h e o l d aqued ucts i nto t h e great city a n d dance
i n the many squares over white stone bas i n s a n d spread out i n
wide spaci ous poo l s a n d m u rm u r b y day a n d l i ft up t h e i r m u rm u r­
i n g to the n ight that is large and starry here a n d soft with w i n d s .
And ga rde n s a re h e r e , u n forgettable ave n u es a n d fl ights of sta i rs ,
stai rs devised b y M i chelange l o , sta i rs that a re b u i l t after t h e pat­
tern of downwa rd-g l i d i n g wate rs-b roadly bringing fort h step out
of step in t h e i r descent l i ke wave out of wave. Through such
i m press i o n s one co l l ects oneself, wins oneself back aga i n out of
the prete ntious m u lt i p l icity that t a l ks a n d ch atters there ( a n d
h o w t a l kative it i s!) . a n d one l e a r n s slowly to recogn ize the ve ry
few t h i ngs in which the eternal e n d u res that one can l ove and
somet h i n g solitary i n which one can q u ietly take part.
I a m sti l l l i ving in the city, on the Capito l , not fa r from the
finest equestrian statue that has come down to us from Rom a n
a rt-that of M a rcus Aure l i u s ; but i n a few weeks I s h a l l move i nto
a q u iet si mple roo m , a n old flat-roofed s u m merhouse, that l ies
lost way deep in a l a rge park, h i dden from the tow n , its noise a n d
i ncident. There I s h a l l l ive a l l wi nter a n d rej o i ce i n the great qu iet,
from which I expect the g i ft of good a n d i n d u strious hours.
From thence, where I shall be more at home, I w i l l write you a
longe r l etter, furt h e r d i scussing what you h ave written m e . Today I
m ust o n l y te l l you ( a n d perhaps it is wrong of me not to have

rnrmrm 33
done t h i s before ) that t h e book a n n o u nced i n you r l etter (wh ich
was to conta i n wo rks of you rs ) h a s not a rrived here. H a s i t gone
back to you . perhaps from Worpswede? ( Fo r o n e may not forwa rd
pa rce l s to fore ign co u n t r i es . ) Th i s is the most favora b l e poss i b i l ­
ity, a n d I wo u l d l i ke t o know it co n fi rm e d . I hope t h e re i s n o q u es­
t i o n of loss-wh ich , t h e Ita l i a n m a i l s bei n g what they a re . wou l d
n o t b e a n yt h i ng except i o n a l - u n fo rt u nately.
I wo u l d have been g l a d to get t h i s book ( a s I wou l d a n yt h i n g
t h a t gives a s i g n of you ) ; a n d verses t h a t y o u have written m e a n ­
t i m e I s ha l l a lways ( i f y o u w i l l c o n f i d e t h e m to m e ) r e a d a n d read
aga i n and expe rience a s we l l and as s i n cerely a s I ca n . W i t h
w i s hes a n d g reet i n g s ,

You rs :
Ra i n e r M a r i a R i l ke

34 mrm ro n munG ron

 SIX

Rome,
December 23rd, 1903

My dear M r. Kappu s .

You s h a l l not b e without a greet i ng from me w h e n Ch ristmas

comes a n d when you . i n the m i dst of the h o l i day, a re bearing you r
solitude more heavi ly t h a n u s u a l . But i f then you not i ce that it i s
great. re j o i ce beca use of t h i s ; f o r w h a t ( a s k you rself) wou ld sol i ­
t u d e b e t h a t h a d no greatness; there i s b u t one solitude, and that
i s great . a n d not easy to bear, a n d to a l m ost everybody come
h o u rs when they wou l d gladly excha nge it fo r any sort of i nter­
course. h oweve r ba n a l and cheap, for the sembla nce of some
sl ight accord with the fi rst com er. with the u nworth iest . . . . But
perhaps t h ose a re the ve ry h o u rs when sol itude grows ; for its
growing i s pa i n fu l as the grow i n g of boys a n d sad as the beg i n ­
n i ng of springt i m e s . B u t t h a t m u st not m i slead you . T h e neces­
sary t h i ng i s after a l l but t h i s : solitude, great i n n e r solitude.
Going-i nto-oneself and for h o u rs meet i ng no one-t h i s one m u st
be able to atta i n . To be sol itary, the way one was solita ry as a
ch i l d , when the grow n u ps went a rou nd i n volved with t h i ngs that
seemed i m porta nt and big beca use they them selves looked so
busy and beca use one compreh ended noth i n g of t h e i r doings.
And when one day one percei ves that their occupat ions a re

35
 p a l t ry, t h e i r profe s s i o n s petrified a n d no longer l i n ked w i t h l iv i n g ,
why n ot t h e n conti n u e to l o o k l i ke a c h i l d upon i t a l l a s u pon
somet h i n g u n fa m i l i a r, from o u t of t h e depth of one's own worl d ,
o u t of t h e expa n s e of one's own s o l i t u d e , w h i c h i s itse l f work a n d
stat u s a n d vocat i o n ? W h y want to exc h a n ge a ch i ld's w i s e i n com­
p re h e n s i o n for defe n s iveness and d i sda i n , s i n ce i n compre h e n ­
s i o n i s a fte r a l l b e i n g a l o n e , w h i l e defe n s i veness a n d d i s d a i n a re
a s h a r i n g i n that from wh ich o n e wants by these m e a n s to keep
apart.
Th i n k , dear s i r, of t h e world you carry w it h i n you , a n d ca l l t h i s
t h i n ki n g w h a t y o u w i l l ; whether i t be re m e m b e r i n g you r own
ch i l d h ood o r yearn i n g toward you r own futu re-o n l y be attent ive
to that w h i c h rises u p in you and set i t a bove everyt h i n g that you
obse rve about you . W h a t goes o n in you r i n n ermost being i s wor­
thy of you r whole love; you m u st s o m e h ow keep worki ng at it a n d
n ot l o s e t o o m uch t i m e a n d t o o m uch c o u rage i n cla r i fy i n g you r
a tt i t u d e toward peop l e . W h o tel l s you that you h ave o n e a ny­
way?- I know, you r profe s s i o n i s h a rd and fu l l of con t ra d i ct i o n of
you rself, a n d I foresaw you r c o m p l a i n t a n d knew t h a t i t wou l d
c o m e . N ow that i t h a s c o m e , I ca n n ot comfo rt you , I can o n l y
advise y o u to con s i d e r whether a l l p rofe s s i o n s a re n ot l i ke t h a t ,
fu l l of d e m a n d s , fu l l of e n m ity aga i n st t h e i n d i vi d u a l , satu rated a s
i t were w i t h t h e h a t red of t h ose w h o h ave fou n d t h e m se lves m ute
rnd s u l len in a h u m d r u m d u ty. The s i t u a t i o n in wh ich you n ow
� ave to l ive is no m o re heav i l y laden w i t h conve n t i o n s , p re j u d i ces
and m i stakes than all the other s i t u a t i o n s , and if t h e re a re some
i hat fei g n a greater freedom , sti l l t h e re i s none that i s in itse l f
b road a n d spaci o u s a n d i n contact w i t h t h e b i g t h i ngs of w h i c h

/'real l iv i n g con s i st s . O n l y t h e i n d iv i d u a l w h o i s s o l i t a ry i s l i ke a
t h i n g p l a ced u n d e r profo u n d l a w s , a n d w h e n he goes out i nto t h e
,

Jo mms T O 11 rounG ron

morn i ng that is j u st begi n n i ng , or looks out into the eve n i ng that
is fu l l of ha ppen i n g , and i f he fee ls what is going on there , then all ;
stat us d rops from h i m as from a dead m a n , though he sta nds in 1

the m i dst of sheer l i fe . What you , dear M r. Kappu s , m u st now

expe rience as a n officer, you wou l d have fe lt j u st the same i n any
of the establ ished profess ions; yes , even i f. outside of any pos i­
t i on , you had merely sought some l ight and i n dependent contact
with soci ety, t h i s fee l i ng of constra i n t wou l d not have been
spa red you .- It is so everywhere ; but that is no rea son for fea r or
sorrow; i f there is not h i n g i n com mon between you and other
peopl e , t ry being close to t h i ngs, they w i l l not desert you ; there
a re the n i ghts sti l l and the winds that go t h rough the t rees and
across m a n y lands; among t h i ngs and with the a n i m a l s every­
t h i n g is sti l l fu l l of ha ppen i n g , in w h i ch you may pa rt i c i pate; and
ch i l d ren a re sti l l the way you were as a ch i l d , sad l i ke that and
ha ppy,-a nd i f you t h i n k of you r c h i l d h ood you l i ve among them
aga i n , a m ong the sol ita ry c h i l d re n , and the grow n u ps a re noth­
i n g , and their dign ity has no va l u e.
And i f it worries and torments you to think of you r ch i l d h ood
and of the s i m p l i city and q u i et that goes with i t , because you ca n­
not bel ieve any more i n God , who appears everywhere i n i t , then
ask you rself, dea r M r. Kapp u s , whether you rea l ly h ave lost God?
I s it not rat her, that you have never yet possessed h i m ? For when
s h o u l d that have bee n ? Do you bel i eve that a c h i l d ca n hold h i m ,
h i m whom m e n bea r only with effort a n d whose weight com­
presses the old? Do you bel ieve that anyone who rea l l y has h i m
cou l d lose h i m l i ke a l ittle stone, or d o you not t h i n k rather that
wh oever had him cou l d o n l y be lost by h i m ?- But i f you know he
was not i n you r c h i l d h ood , and not before, i f you s u s pect that
C h rist was deluded by his longing a n d Moham med betrayed by

mmrrm 3 7
h i s pride-a nd if you a re terri fied to fee l that even now he is not,
i n this h o u r w h e n we speak of h i m-what t h e n j u st i fies you in
m i s s i n g h i m , who n ever w a s , l i ke o n e who h a s passed away, and
i n seeki ng him a s though h e had been l ost?
Why do you not t h i n k of h i m a s t h e com i n g one, i m m i ne n t
fro m a l l etern ity, t h e fut u re o n e , t h e fi n a l fru i t of a t ree w h o s e
leaves we a re? What keeps you from project i n g h i s b i rt h i nto
t i m e s that a re in p rocess of beco m i ng , and l iv i n g yo u r l i fe l i ke a
pa i n fu l a n d bea u t i f u l day i n t h e h i story of a g reat gesta t i o n ? For
do you not see how everyt h i n g that happens keeps o n b e i n g a
beg i n n i n g , a n d cou ld it not be H is begi n n i ng , s i n ce begi n n i n g i s
i n itself a l ways so bea u t i f u l ? I f h e i s t h e m ost pe rfect. m u st not
the lesser be before h i m , so that l=le can choose h i m s e l f out of fu l l ­
ness a nd overfl ow?- M u st h e not b e t h e l a s t , i n o rder t o encom­
pass everyt h i n g w i t h i n h i m s e l f, a n d what m ea n i ng w o u l d we have
i f he, whom we long for, had a l ready been ?
A s t h e bees b r i n g i n t h e h o n ey, so d o we fetch t h e sweetest
out of everyt h i n g and b u i ld H i m . With the trivi a l eve n , with t h e
i n s i g n i ficant ( i f it but h a p p e n s out of love ) we m a ke a start , with
work a n d with rest a fter i t , with a s i l e n ce o r with a small s o l i t a ry
j oy, w i t h everyt h i n g that we do a l o n e , without s u pporters a n d pa r­
t i c i p a n t s , we beg i n h i m w h o m we s h a l l not l ive to know, even as
o u r forebears co u l d not l i ve to know u s . And yet they, w h o a re
l o n g gon e , a re in u s , as p red i s pos i t i o n , as b u rden u po n o u r des­
t i ny, a s b l ood that p u l sates, and as gest u re that ri ses up out of
the dept h s of t i m e .
I s t h e re a n yt h i n g t h a t c a n take fro m y o u t h e h o p e of t h u s
s o m e day be i ng i n h i m , t h e fa rthest, t h e u l t i m ate?
Cel ebrate C h r i s t m a s , dear M r. Kapp u s , in this devout fee l i ng ,
t h a t perhaps H e n eeds t h i s very fea r of l i fe from y o u i n o rder t o

30 mms T O n TOUITG ron

beg i n ; these ve ry days of you r tra n s ition are perhaps the t i m e
when everyth i ng i n y o u i s working at h i m. as y o u have a l ready
once. in chi ldhood , breathlessly worked at h i m . Be pati ent and
without resentment and think that the least we can do i s to make
h i s becom i ng not more d i ffi cult fo r h i m t h a n the earth makes it
for the spri ng when it wants to come.
And be glad a n d confide nt.

Yo u rs :
R a i n e r M a r i a R i l ke

rnrmrm 30
 SEVETI

Rome,
May 14th, 1904

My dear M r. Kapp u s ,

M u c h t i m e h a s g o n e b y s i n ce I rece ived yo u r l a st letter. D o

n o t h o l d t h at aga i n st m e ; fi rst it w a s work. t h e n i n terrupt i o n s a n d
fi n a l l y a poor state of h e a l t h t h a t aga i n a n d aga i n kept m e from
the a n swer, w h i c h (so I wanted it) was to co m e to you out of q u i et
a n d good days . Now I fee l somewhat better aga i n ( t h e ope n i n g of
s p r i n g with its m ea n , fitfu l cha nges was very t ry i n g h e re too ) a n d
c o m e to g reet yo u , dear M r. Kappu s , a n d to tel l y o u ( w h i c h I d o
w i t h a l l m y h e a rt ) o n e t h i n g a n d a n o t h e r i n reply to yo u r letter, a s
w e l l a s I k n o w how.
Yo u see-1 h ave co pied yo u r s o n n e t , beca use I fo u n d t h at it
i s l ovely a n d s i m p l e a n d born i n t h e form in w h i c h it m oves w i t h
s u ch q u iet deco ru m . It i s t h e b e s t of those of yo u r poe m s t h at y o u
h ave let m e read . And now I give you t h i s copy beca u s e I know
t h at it i s i m portant and fu l l of n ew experience to co m e upon a
work of on e's own aga i n w ritten i n a strange h a n d . Read t h e l i nes
a s though t h ey were someone e l se's , a n d you w i l l fee l deep w it h i n
y o u h o w m u ch t h ey a re yo u r ow n .
I t was a pleas u re t o m e t o read t h i s son n et a n d yo u r l etter
ofte n ; I t h a n k you fo r bot h .
 And you s h o u l d not let you rself be confused i n you r solitude
by the fact that there i s somet h i ng i n you that wants to break out
of i t . Th i s very wish will h e l p you . i f you use it q u ietly, a n d de l i ber­
ately a n d l i ke a too l , to spread out you r sol itude over wide cou n­
try. People h ave (with the h e l p of conventions) oriented all their
solutions towa rd the easy and toward the easiest side of the easy;
but it i s clear that we m u st hold to what i s d i fficu l t ; everyt h i n g
a l ive h o l d s to it. everyt h i n g i n Nature grows a n d defends itself i n
i t s own way and i s characteristica l ly and spontaneou sly itself.
seeks at all costs to be so and aga i n st all oppos i t i o n . We know l it­
tle. but that we m u st hold to what i s d i fficu lt i s a ce rta i nty that
w i l l not forsa ke u s ; it i s good to be solitary, for solitude i s d i ffi­
cult; that somet h i n g i s d i fficu lt m u st be a rea son the m ore for u s
to do i t .
To l ove i s good . too: love b e i n g d i fficu lt. For one h u man
being to l ove a n other: that i s perhaps the m ost d i fficu lt of all our
tasks, the u lt i mate, the last test and proof, the work for w h i ch a l l
other work i s b u t prepa rat ion . Fo r t h i s reason you ng people. who
a re beg i n n e rs i n everyt h i n g , ca n n ot yet know love : they have to
learn it. With thei r whole be i n g , with a l l t h e i r forces. gathered
cl ose about t h e i r lone ly, t i m i d . u pward-beat i n g heart . they m u st
learn to love . But learni ng-t i me is a lways a long, secluded t i m e ,
a n d so lovi ng, for a long w h i l e a head and fa r on i nto l i fe . i s-sol i ­
tude. i nten s i fi ed and deepened loneness for h i m w h o loves . Love
is at first not anyt h i ng that means merging, givi ng over. and u n it­
ing with another ( for what wou l d a u n ion be of somet h i n g unclari­
fied and u n finished. sti l l s u bord i nate-?). it is a high i n d u cement
to the i ndividual to ri pen . to become somet h i n g i n h i mself. to
become worl d , to become world for h i m self for a n other's sake , it
is a great exact i n g c l a i m u pon h i m , somet h i n g that chooses h i m

mrmrm -1 1
out a n d ca l l s h i m to vast t h i n g s . O n l y i n t h i s s e n s e , as t h e task of
worki ng a t t h e m se lves ( "to h e a rke n and to h a m m e r day a n d
n i ght" ) . m i g h t you n g people u s e t h e love t h at i s give n t h e m .
Merg i n g a n d s u rren d e r i n g a n d every ki n d of co m m u n i o n i s not fo r
t h e m ( w h o m u st save a n d gather fo r a l o n g , long t i m e st i l l ) . is t h e
u lt i mate, i s p e r h a p s t h at f o r w h i c h h u ma n l ives a s y e t sca rce ly
s u ffice.
But yo u n g people err so often and so grievo u s ly in t h i s : that
t h ey ( i n whose n a t u re it lies to h ave n o patience) fl i n g t h e m selves
at each ot h e r, w h e n l ove takes possession of t he m , scatter them­
selves, j u st a s they are, i n all their u n t i d i n e s s , d i sorder, co n f u ­
sion . And t h e n what? W h at i s l i fe to do to t h i s heap of
h a l f-battered exi stence w h i ch t h ey ca l l t h e i r com m u n i o n a n d
w h i c h t h e y wo u l d g l a d l y ca l l t h e i r h a p p i n e s s , i f i t were pos s i b l e ,
a n d t h e i r fut u re ? T h u s e a c h l o s e s h i m s e l f fo r t h e sake of t h e other
and loses the other and many ot h e rs that wanted st i l l to co m e .
And l o s e s t h e expa n ses a n d t h e poss i b i l i t i e s , excha nges t h e
approach a n d f l i g h t of ge n t l e , d i vi n i ng t h i ngs fo r a n u n fru itfu l
perplexity out of w h i c h n ot h i n g can come a n y more, n ot h i n g save
a l i ttle d i s g u s t , d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t and poverty, and rescue in one of
the m a n y conve n t i o n s that have been put u p in great n u m be r l i ke
p u b l i c refuges a l ong t h i s most d a ngero u s road . No rea l m of
h u m a n exper i e n ce i s so wel l provided with conve n t i o n s a s t h i s :
l i fe-preservers of m ost varied i nvent i o n , boats a n d swi m m i n g­
b l adders a re here; the soci a l concept i o n h a s m a n aged to s u p p l y
s h e lters of every sort , fo r, a s i t was d i sposed to take l ove- l i fe a s a
p l e a s u re , it had a l so to give it a n easy fo rm , cheap, safe a n d s u re ,
a s p u b l i c pleasu res a re .
It i s t r u e t h at m a ny you ng people who l ove wrongly, t h a t i s ,
s i m p l y w i t h a b a n d o n a n d u n so l i t a r i l y ( t h e average w i l l of cou rse

42 mrm ro n munG ron

a lways go on doing s o ) . feel the oppressiveness of a fa i l u re and
wa n t to make the situation i n which they have l a n ded viable a n d
fru itfu l i n t h e i r o w n personal way-; f o r t h e i r nature te l l s them
that, less even than all else that i s i m po rta n t , can questions of
l ove be solved p u b l i cly and accord i ng to t h i s or that agreement;
that they a re q uesti o n s , i n t i mate questions from one h u m a n
b e i n g to a n other, which i n any case demand a new, speci a l , only
pe rso n a l a n swer-: but how should they, who have al ready flung
them selves toget her and n o longer m a rk off and d i st i n g u i s h
themselves from each ot her, who therefore no l o n g e r possess
anyt h i n g of t h e i r own selves, be able to fi nd a way out of them­
selves, out of the depth of their a l ready sh attered sol itude?
They act out of com mon helplessness, and then , if. with the
best i n te n t i o n s , they t ry to avo id the conven tion that occu rs to
them ( say, ma rriage ) , they l a n d i n the tentacles of some less loud,
but equa l l y deadly convent i o n a l solution ; for then everyt h i n g fa r
a ro u n d them i s-convention ; where people act out of a prema­
t u rely fused , t u rbid com m u n i on , every move i s conve n t i o n : eve ry
re lation to which such entanglement leads has its convention , be
it ever so u n u s u a l ( t hat i s , in the ord i n a ry sense i m m o ra l ) ; why,
even separation wou ld here be a conven tional step, an i m per­
son a l chance dec i s i on without strength and without fru it.
Whoever looks seriously at i t finds that neither for death ,
wh ich is d i fficu l t , nor for d i fficu lt love has any explanation , any
sol ution , any h i nt or way yet been d i scerned; and for these two
prob lems that we ca rry wrapped up and hand on without open­
ing, it w i l l not be poss i b l e to d i scove r any genera l rule rest i n g in
agree ment. But i n the same measure i n which we beg i n as i n d i ­
vi d u a l s to put l i fe to the test, w e s h a l l , b e i n g i n d i vidua l s , meet
these great t h i ngs at closer ra nge. The demands which the d i ffi-

mr mrm D
cult work of love makes upon our development are more than l i fe­
size, and as beg i n n ers we are not up to them . But i f we n evertheless
hold out a n d take this love upon u s a s burden a n d a pprentices h i p ,
i n stead of l o s i n g ourselves i n a l l t h e l ight a n d frivo l o u s p l ay,
beh i n d w h i c h people have h i dden from the m ost earnest earnest­
ness of their existence-t h e n a l ittle progres s and a n a l l eviation
will perhaps be percept i b l e to those w h o com e l o n g a fter u s ; that
wo u l d be m u c h .
W e are o n ly j u st n o w begi n n i n g to l o o k u p o n t h e re l a t i o n of
o n e i n d i v i d u a l person to a second i n d iv i d u a l obj ect ively and
w i t h o u t pre j u d i ce , a n d our attem pts to l ive s u c h assoc i a t i o n s
h a v e n o m o d e l before t h e m . And y e t i n t h e c h a n ges bro ught
about by time t h ere i s a lready a good d e a l t h a t wo u l d help o u r
t i m oro u s novitiate.
The girl a n d t h e woma n . i n t h e i r n ew, t h e i r own u n fo l d i n g ,
w i l l b u t i n pa s s i n g be i m itators of mascu l i n e ways, good a n d bad ,
a n d repeaters of mascu l i n e profe s s i o n s . After t h e u n certa i n ty of
s u c h tra n s i t i o n s it will beco m e appare nt that women were only
go i ng t hro ugh t h e profu s i o n a n d t h e v i c i s s i t ude of t h ose ( o ften
r i d i c u l o u s ) d i s g u i ses i n order to clea n s e t h e i r own m ost ch arac­
teri stic n a t ure of the d i stort i n g i n fl u e n ces of the ot h er sex.
Wom e n , in whom l i fe l i n gers and dwe l l s m ore i m m e d i ately, m ore
fru itfu l l y a n d m ore confidently, m u st surely h ave beco m e funda­
m e n ta l ly ri per peop l e , m ore h u m a n peopl e , t h a n easygo i n g m a n ,
w h o i s not p u l led down below t h e s urface of l i fe b y t h e weight o f
a n y fru i t of h i s body, a n d w h o , pres u m pt u o u s a n d h asty, u n d er­
va l u es what he t h i n ks he l oves . T h i s h u m a n ity of wo m a n , borne
its fu l l time i n s u fferi ng a n d h u m i l i a t i o n . will com e to l ight w h e n
s h e w i l l h a v e stripped o f f t h e conve n t i o n s of m ere fe m i n i n ity i n
t h e m utat i o n s of h er o utward sta t u s , a n d t h ose m e n w h o do not

H mms ro 1\ munG ron

yet fee l it approach i ng today w i l l be su rprised a n d struck by it.
Some day ( a n d for this. part i cu l a rly i n the northern cou ntries ,
rel i able signs a re a l ready speaki ng a n d s h i n i ng). some day there
w i l l be g i r l s and women whose n a m e w i l l no l onger sign ify merely
a n opposite of the mascu l i ne . but somet h i ng i n itself. somet h i n g
t h a t makes one t h i n k. n o t of any com plement a n d limit. but only
of l i fe a n d existence: the fem i n i ne human being.
T h i s adva nce will ( a t fi rst m u ch aga i n st the will of the out­
stri pped men) change the l ove-experience. which i s now fu l l of
error. w i l l a lter it from the gro u n d up, reshape it i nto a relation
that is meant to be of one human being to a n other, no longer of
man to wom a n . And this more h u m a n love ( t hat w i l l fu l fi l l itself,
i n f i n itely con s i derate a n d ge ntle, a n d kind a n d clear i n b i n d i ng
a n d re leasi ng) w i l l resemble that which we a re prepa ring with
strugg le a n d toi l . the l ove that con s i sts in t h i s . that two sol it udes
protect and border and sal ute each other.
And t h i s fu rther: do n ot bel i eve that that great l ove once
e n j o i ned upon you . the boy, was lost; ca n you say whether great
and good des i res did not ripen in you at the t i me. and resol utions
by w h i ch you a re sti l l l iving today? I be l i eve that that love rema i n s
so strong a n d powerfu l i n you r memory beca use it w a s y o u r fi rst
deep bei ng-a lone and the fi rst i nwa rd work you did on you r l i fe.­
Al l good wishes for you. dear M r. Kappus!

You rs :
Ra i ner Maria R i l ke

mr umns � 5
 SO NETT

D u rch m e i n Leben zittert o h n e Klage,

ohne S e u fzer ein t i e fd u n kles We h .
M e i n e r Tra u m e re i n e r B l i.it h e n sc h n ee
ist d i e We i h e m e i n e r st i l l sten Tage.
.

O fte r aber kre uzt die grosse Frage

m e i n e n Pfa d . lch werde klei n und geh

ka l t vori.iber w i e an e i n e m See.
dessen Flut ich n icht zu messen wage.

Und dann s i n kt ein Leid auf m i ch , so t ri.ibe

wie das G ra u g l a nza rmer So m m e rnachte,
d i e e i n Stern d u rc h fl i m m e rt-d a n n u n d wan n-:

M e i n e Hande tasten d a n n nach L i e b e .

w e i l ich gerne Laute b e t e n mochte ,
d i e m e i n h e i s s e r M u n d n i cht fi n d e n ka n n .

( Fra nz Kappus)

46 mms TO n munG ron

SO NNET

Through my l i fe there trem bles without p l a i n t ,

w i t h o u t a sigh a deep-dark mela ncholy.
The p u re and snowy bl ossom i ng of my drea ms
i s the consecration of my stil l est days .

But ofte n t i m es the great question crosses

my pat h . I become s m a l l and go
co l d l y past as though a l ong some lake
whose flood I have not h a rd i h ood to mea s u re.

And then a sorrow s i n ks upon m e , d u s ky

as the gray of l u sterless s u m m e r n ights
t h rough which a star g l i m m ers-now a n d then-:

My hands then gropi ngly reach out for l ove,

beca use I want so m uch to pray sounds
that my h ot mouth ca n n ot find . . . .

Tilt WW!S H
 EIGtlT

Borgeby gard, Fliidie . Sweden .

August 1 2 t h . 1904

l want to t a l k to you aga i n a w h i l e . dear M r. Kapp u s . a l t h o u g h

l ca n say a l most n ot h i ng that i s h e l p fu l . h a rd l y a n yt h i n g u s e fu l .

Yo u have h a d m a n y a n d g reat s a d n esses. w h ich passed. And you
say that even this pass i n g was h a rd for you and put you out of
sort s . But. please. co n s i d e r whether these g reat sad nesses have
not rat h e r gone right t h rough t h e center of yo u rs e l f? Whether
m u ch i n you h a s not a l te red , whether you have not somewhere, at
some point of yo u r b e i n g , u n de rgo n e a c h a n ge w h i l e you were
sad? O n ly those sad nesses a re da ngero u s and bad w h i c h one ca r­
ries about a m o n g people in order to d rown t h e m o u t ; l i ke s i ck­
n esses that a re s u perfici a l l y a n d foo l i s h ly t reated they s i m p ly
w i t h d raw a n d a fter a l ittle pause break out aga i n the m o re d read­
fu l ly; and accu m u l ate with i n one and a re l i fe , a re u n l ived , spu rned ,
lost l i fe . of wh ich o n e may d i e . Were it poss i b l e fo r us to see fur­
ther than our knowl edge reaches . and yet a l ittle way beyo n d the
outworks of our d i vi n i ng , perhaps we wo u l d e n d u re our sadnesses
with g reater co n fidence than our j oys . For t h ey a re t h e m o m e n t s
w h e n s o m et h i n g n ew h a s entered i nto u s , s o m et h i n g u n kn ow n ;
o u r fee l i ngs g row m ute i n s h y perplexity, eve ryt h i ng i n u s w i t h ­
d raws . a sti l l ness co m e s . a n d t h e n ew, wh ich n o o n e knows .
stands i n t h e m i dst of it a n d is s i l e n t .

40
 I bel ieve that a l most a l l o u r sadnesses a re moments of ten­
s i o n that we find paralyzing beca u se we no l onger hear o u r s u r­
pri sed fee l i ngs l iving. Beca use we a re a l one with the a l i e n t h i ng
that has entered i nto o u r self; beca use eve ryt h i n g i nti mate and
accustomed i s for a n i n stant taken away; beca use we stand i n the
middle of a t ransition where we ca n n ot rem a i n sta n d i ng . For this
reason the sadness too passes: the new t h i ng i n u s . the added
t h i ng , has entered i nto our heart. has gone i nto its i n most cham­
ber a n d is not even there any m ore .-i s a l ready i n o u r blood . And
we do not learn what it was. We cou ld easily be made to bel ieve
that not h i ng has happened. a n d yet we have cha nged , as a house
changes i nto wh ich a guest has entered . We ca n n ot say who has
come . perhaps we s h a l l never know, but many signs i n d icate that
the fut u re enters i nto us i n this way i n o rder to tran sform itself in
u s long before it happe n s . And this i s why it i s so i m portant to be
lonely and attent ive when one is sad: beca use the apparently
u neventfu l a n d stark moment at wh ich o u r fut u re sets foot i n us is
so m u ch closer to l i fe t h a n that ot her n o i sy a n d fort u i tous poi nt
of t i me at which it happe n s to us as i f from outside. The more
st i l l . more patient a n d more open we a re when we a re sad, so
m u ch the deeper a n d so m u ch the more u n swervi ngly does the
new go i nto u s . so m u ch the better do we make it ours. so m uch
the more w i l l it be our desti ny, and when on some later day it
"happens" (that i s , steps fort h out of us to others ) . we s h a l l feel i n
o u r i n most selves a k i n a n d near t o i t . And that i s necessa ry. I t i s
necessa ry-a nd towa rd t h i s o u r development w i l l m ove gradu­
a l l y-t hat n ot h i n g strange should befa l l u s , but only that wh ich
has long belonged to us. We have a l ready had to ret h i n k so many
of our concepts of m ot i o n , we w i l l also grad u a l ly learn to rea l ize
that that w h i ch we ca l l dest i ny goes fort h from with i n peop l e , not

mr tmm �g
fro m w i t h o u t i nto t h e m . O n l y beca u s e so m a n y have not
abso rbed t h e i r dest i n ies and t ra n s m u ted them w i t h i n t h e m selves
w h i l e they were l iv i n g in t h e m , have they not recog n ized what has
gone forth out of t h e m ; it was so strange to them that, in t h e i r
bew i l dered fri g h t . t h e y t h o u g h t i t m u st o n l y j u st t h e n h ave
entered i nto t h e m , fo r they swe a r n ever befo re to have fo u n d a ny­
t h i n g l i ke i t in t h e m selves. As people were long m i staken about
the motion of t h e s u n , so t h ey a re even yet m i staken about t h e
motion of that w h i c h i s to com e . The futu re sta n d s fi rm . dear M r.
Kappu s , b u t we m ove i n i n fi n ite space.
How s h o u l d i t not be d i fficu l t for us?
And to speak of s o l i t u d e aga i n , i t beco m e s a lways c l e a re r
that t h i s i s at bottom n ot s o m et h i n g that o n e ca n t a k e o r l eave .
We are s o l i t a ry. We may d e l u d e o u rselves a n d act as t h o u g h t h i s
were n o t s o . T h a t i s a l l . But h o w m u ch better i t i s to rea l ize that
we a re s o , yes, even to beg i n by a s s u m i ng i t . We s h a l l i n deed t u rn
d i zzy t h e n ; fo r a l l po i nt s u p o n w h i c h o u r eye h a s been accus­
tomed to rest a re taken fro m us, t h e re i s n ot h i ng near a n y m o re
a n d everyt h i ng fa r is i n fi n itely fa r. A person rem oved from h i s own
roo m , a l most without p repa rat i o n and t ra n s i t i o n , and set u p o n
t h e h e i g h t of a g reat m o u n t a i n ra nge, wo u l d fee l s o m et h i ng of t h e
s o r t : a n u n pa ra l l e l e d i n secu rity, a n a b a n d o n m e n t to s o m et h i ng
i n expres s i b l e wou l d a l most a n n i h i late h i m . H e wo u ld t h i n k h i m ­
s e l f fa l l i n g o r h u rled o u t i nto space, o r exp loded i nto a t h o u s a n d
p i eces : what a m o n strous l i e h i s b ra i n wou ld h a v e to i nvent t o
catch u p w i t h a n d exp l a i n t h e state of h i s s e nses! So fo r h i m who
beco m e s sol itary all d i stances, all m e a s u res change; of these
c h a n ges m a n y take p l a ce s u d d e n ly, a n d t h e n , a s w i t h t h e man o n
t h e m o u n t a i ntop, extra o rd i n a ry i m ag i n i ngs a n d s i n g u l a r sensa­
tions a ri s e that seem to g row o u t beyo n d all bea ri n g . But it i s

50 mrm TO n munG ron

necessary for us to expe rience that too. We m u st assume our exis­
tence as broadly as we i n any way ca n ; everyt h i ng , even the
u n heard-of. m u st be poss i b l e i n i t . That i s at bottom the only
cou rage t hat i s deman ded of u s : to have cou rage for the most
strange, the most s i n g u l a r and the most i n expl i cable that we may
encounter. That m a n k i n d has in t h i s sense been cowardly has
done l i fe e n d l ess harm ; the experiences that are ca l l ed "vi s i o n s , "
the w h o l e so-ca l led "spi rit-worl d , " deat h . a l l those t h i ngs t h a t a re
so closely aki n to u s . have by d a i l y parry i n g been so crowded out
of l i fe that the senses with w h i ch we cou l d have grasped them a re
atrop h i e d . To say noth i n g of God . But fea r of the i n exp l i cable has
not a l o n e i m pove rished the existence of the i n d i v i d u a l ; the re la­
t i o n s h i p betwee n one human being a n d a n other has a l so been
cra m ped by it. as though it had been l i fted out of the rive rbed of
e n d l ess poss i b i l ities and set down in a fa l l ow spot on the bank.
to which noth i n g happe n s . For it is not i n ert i a alone that i s
respon s i b l e for h u m a n re lation s h i ps repeat i ng themselves from
case to ca se. i n descri bably monotonous a n d u n renewed ; it is shy­
ness before any sort of new, u n foreseeable expe rience with w h i ch
one does not t h i n k onese l f able to cope . But o n l y someone who
i s ready for everyt h i ng , who exc l u des n ot h i n g , not even the m ost
e n igmatica l , w i l l l i ve the re lation to a n other as someth i n g a l i ve
a n d w i l l h i m se l f d raw exh a u stively from h i s own existence. For i f
w e t h i n k of t h i s exi stence o f t h e i nd i v i d u a l as a l a rger or s m a l l e r
roo m , it appea rs evident t h a t m o s t peop le l e a r n to know only a
corner of t h e i r roo m , a place by the w i n dow. a stri p of floor on
which they wa l k up a n d dow n . Thus they have a certa i n secu rity.
And yet that dangerous i n secu rity is so m u ch more h u m a n which
drives the prisoners i n Poe's stories to fee l out the sh apes of their
horri ble d u ngeons a n d n ot be strangers to the u n speakable terror

mr mmts ) I
of t h e i r abode. We, h oweve r, a re not prisoners. No traps or s n a res
a re set about us, a n d t h e re i s noth i n g wh ich should i nt i m idate o r
worry u s . We a re s e t d o w n i n l i fe a s i n t h e e l e m e n t to wh ich we
best co rrespond, and over and a bove t h i s we have t h rough t h o u ­
s a nds of years of acco m moda t i o n beco m e so l i ke t h i s l i fe , t h a t
when we hold st i l l we a re , t h rough a h a ppy m i m i cry, sca rce ly t o
be d i st i n g u i s hed fro m a l l that s u rro u nds u s . We h a v e n o reason
to m i st r u st our world, fo r i t i s not aga i n st us. Has i t terrors , t hey
a re o ur te rrors ; has it a bysses , those a bysses belong to u s ; a re
da ngers at h a n d , we m u st t ry to l ove t h e m . And if o n l y we a rra nge
our l i fe acco rd i n g to that p r i n c i p l e which co u n s e l s u s that we
m u st a lways hold to the d i ffi c u l t , then that wh ich now sti l l see m s
to u s t h e m ost a l i e n w i l l beco m e w h a t w e m o s t t r u st a n d f i n d
m ost fa i t h fu l . How s h o u ld we be a b l e to fo rget those a n c i e n t
myt h s that a re at t h e begi n n i ng of a l l peo p l e s , t h e myt h s about
drago n s that at t h e last moment t u rn i n to pri n cesses; perhaps a l l
t h e dragon s of o u r l ives a re p r i n cesses w h o a re o n ly wa i t i n g to
see us o n ce bea u t i fu l and brave. Pe rhaps everyt h i ng terri b l e is i n
i t s deepest b e i n g somet h i ng h e l pless that wants h e l p fro m u s .
S o you m u st n ot b e frightened, dea r M r. Kappu s , i f a sadness
rises u p befo re you l a rger than a n y you have ever see n ; i f a
restive n e s s , l i ke l i ght a n d cloud-sh adow s , passes over yo u r h a nds
a n d over a l l you do . Yo u m u st t h i n k that s o m et h i n g i s happe n i n g
w i t h you , t h at l i fe h a s n o t fo rgotte n yo u , t h at it ho lds y o u i n i t s
h a n d ; it w i l l n o t l e t y o u fa l l . Why d o y o u w a n t t o s h u t o u t of you r
l i fe a n y agitat i o n , a n y pa i n , a n y m e l a n ch o ly, s i n ce you rea l l y do
not know what these states a re worki ng upon yo u ? Why do you
want to persecute you rse l f with t h e q u es t i o n w h e n ce a l l t h i s may
be co m i n g a n d w h i t h e r it is bo u n d? S i n ce you know that you a re
i n t h e m idst of t ra n s i t i o n s a n d w i s h ed for noth i n g so m u ch as to

52 mms ro 1\ munG ron

change. If there is anyt h i n g morbid i n you r processes . j u st
remember that s i ckness is the means by w h i ch an orga n i s m frees
itse l f of foreign matter; so one m ust j u st help it to be sick. to h ave
its whole sickness and break out with i t . for that is its progress. I n
you . dear M r. Kappus . s o m u ch i s now happen i ng; you m u st be
patient as a s i ck man and con fident as a conva lescent; for per­
haps you a re bot h . And more: you a re the doctor too. who has to
watch over h i mself. But there a re in every i l l ness many days when
the doctor can do not h i ng but wait. And this it i s that you , i n sofa r
as y o u a re you r o w n doctor, m u st n o w above a l l do.
Do not observe you rse l f too much. Do not draw too hasty
concl u s i o n s from what happens to you ; let it s i mply happen to
you . Otherwise you w i l l too eas i ly look with reproach ( t hat i s .
moral ly) u pon you r past . w h i ch natura l ly h a s i t s s h a re i n a l l that
you a re now meet i n g . But that part of the errors . desi res and
longi ngs of you r boyhood w h i ch i s worki ng i n you i s not what you
re member and con dem n . The u n us u a l conditions of a lonely and
helpless c h i l d hood a re so d i ffi c u l t , so com p l i cated , open to so
many i n fl uences and at the same time so d i se ngaged from all rea l
con n ections with l i fe that, where a vice enters i nto i t , one may not
without more ado s i m p l y ca l l it vice. One m ust be so carefu l with
names a nyway; it i s so often on the name of a m i sdeed that a l i fe
goes to pieces . not the nameless a n d personal action itself, wh ich
was perhaps a perfect ly defi n ite necessity of that l i fe a n d wou ld
have been absorbed by it without effort . And the expe n d i t u re of
energy seems to you so great only beca use you overva l ue victory ;
it i s n o t the vi ctory t h a t i s the "great t h i ng" y o u t h i n k to have
done. a lthough you a re right in your fee l i ng; the great t h i n g is
that there was a l ready somet h i n g there wh ich you cou l d put i n
t h e place o f that delusion , somet h i ng true a n d rea l . Without t h i s

rnr umns jj
even you r victory wou l d have been but a moral react i o n . without
wide s i g n i ficance, b u t thus it h a s beco m e a segment of yo u r l i fe .
Yo u r l i fe , dea r M r. Kappu s , of wh ich I t h i n k w i t h so m a n y w i s h e s .
Do y o u rem e m b e r h o w that l i fe yearned out of its ch i l d hood for
t h e "great"? I see that it is now go i n g on beyo n d t h e g reat to l o n g
f o r greater. F o r t h i s rea son it w i l l not c e a s e to be d i ffi c u l t . b u t for
t h i s rea son too it w i l l not cease to grow.
And if t h e re i s one t h i n g m o re that I m u st say to yo u . it is
t h i s : Do not bel i eve that he who seeks to com fort you l ives
u nt ro u b l ed a m o n g the s i m p l e and q u iet words that someti mes
do you good . His l i fe h a s m u ch d i fficu lty a n d sadness and
rem a i n s fa r beh i n d you rs . Were it otherw i s e h e wou l d n ever have
been able to fi n d those word s .

Yo u rs :
R a i n e r M a r i a R i l ke

5� mrm ro n munG ron

 nmr

Furuborg, Jonsered. in Sweden,

November 4th. 1904

My dear Mr. Kappus.

i n this time that has gone by without a letter I have been partly
trave l i ng, partly so busy that I cou ld not write. And even today writ­
ing comes hard to me beca use I have already had to write a lot of
letters so that my hand is tired. If I cou ld dictate . I would say a great
deal to you . but as it is. take only a few words for your long letter.
I t h i n k of you , dear Mr. Kappus. ofte n and with such concen­
trated wishes that that rea l ly ought to help you somehow.
Whether my letters can rea l l y be a h e l p , I ofte n doubt. Do not say:
yes . they are . J u st accept them and without m u ch thanks . and let
u s awa it what comes.
There is perhaps no use my go ing i nto your part i c u l ar points
now; for what I co u l d say about your tendency to doubt or about
your i n a b i l ity to bring outer and i n ner l i fe i nto u n ison , or about
all the other t h i ngs that worry you-: it i s a l ways what I have
a lready said: a l ways the wish that you may find pat ience enough
i n yourse l f to endure , and s i m pl icity enough to bel ieve ; that you
may acqu ire more and more con fidence i n that w h i ch is difficult.
and in your sol itude among others . And for the rest. let l i fe hap­
pen to you . Bel i eve me: l i fe is right. in any case.

jj
 And about e m ot i o n s : a l l e m ot i o n s a re p u re w h i c h gath e r you
and l i ft you up; t h at emotion i s i m p u re wh ich seizes o n l y one s i d e
of yo u r b e i n g a n d so d i stort s you . Everyt h i n g that you can t h i n k i n
t h e face of yo u r ch i l d hood , i s right. Everyt h i n g that m a kes more of
you than you h ave h eretofore been in you r best hours, i s right.
Eve ry h e i g h te n i ng i s good i f it i s i n yo u r wflole b l ood , i f it i s not
i ntoxicat i o n , not t u rb i d i ty, b u t j oy wh ich o n e can see clear to the
bottom . Do you u nd e rsta n d what I m e a n ?
And yo u r d o u bt may beco m e a good q u a l ity i f y o u train it. It
m u st beco m e knowing , it m u st beco m e critica l . Ask i t , w h e n ever it
wants to spo i l s o m et h i n g fo r yo u , wfl!l s o m et h i n g i s ugly, demand
p roofs from i t , test i t , a n d you will fi n d i t perpl exed a n d e m bar­
rassed perhaps, or perhaps rebe l l i o u s . But d o n ' t give i n , i n s ist o n
a rg u ments a n d a ct t h i s way, watch ful a n d co n s istent, every s i n g l e
t i m e , a n d t h e day wi l l a rrive w h e n from a destroyer i t w i l l beco m e
o n e of yo u r b e s t workers-perhaps t h e cl everest of a l l that a re
b u i l d i ng at yo u r l i fe .
T h a t i s a l l , d e a r M r. Kapp u s , t h a t I a m a b l e to t e l l y o u today
But I am sen d i n g you at the same t i m e the rep r i n t of a l ittle poet­
ical work* that has now appeared in the Prague pe riodical
Deu tsche Arbeit. There I speak to you f u rt h e r of l i fe a n d of death a n d
of h o w both a re g reat a n d s p l e n d i d .

Yo u r s :
R a i n e r M a r i a R i l ke

• The Lay of the Love and Death of Cornet Otto ! s u bsequent editions: Ch ristoph !
R i l ke. familiarly and very widely known as "the Cornet," had been written in 1 899 .

.)6 mms ro n munG ron

 TEn

Paris.
the day after Christmas . 1908

You m u st know, dear M r. Kapp u s . h ow glad I was to have that

love ly letter from you . The news you give me. real and tellable as
it now i s aga i n , seems good to m e . and, the longer I have thought
it over. the more I have fe lt it to be i n fact good. I rea l ly wanted to
write you t h i s for Ch ristmas Eve ; but what with work, in w h i ch I
am l iving t h i s wi nter, va riously a n d u n i nterruptedly, the ancient
hol iday approached so fast that I had hardly any t i m e left to
atte nd to the most necessary erra n d s , much less to write.
But I have thought of you often during these hol idays and
i m agi ned how q u i et you m u st be i n you r lonely fort among the
em pty h i l ls. upon which those big southerly w i nds preci pitate
themselves as though they wou ld devo u r them in great pieces .
The sti l l ness m u st be i m m ense i n which such sounds and
movements have roo m . and when one t h i nks that to it a l l the
presence of the far-off sea comes c h i m i n g in as wel l , perhaps as
the i n most tone i n that pre h i storic ha rmony, then one can only
wish for you that you a re con fidently a n d patiently l ett i n g that
lofty solitude work upon you which i s no more to be stri cken out
of you r l i fe ; which i n everyt h i ng there i s ahead of you to experi­
ence a n d to do w i l l work as a n anonymous i n fl uence. conti n u ­
o u s l y a n d gently decis ive, m u c h as i n us b l ood of ancestors

)7
ceaselessly sti rs a n d m i ngles with o u r Gwn i nto that u n i q u e , not
repeat a b l e being wh ich at every t u r n i n g of our l i fe we a re .
Yes : I a m g l a d y o u have t h a t steady expres s i b l e existen ce
w i t h yo u , that t i t l e , that u n i form , that service, a l l that t a n g i b l e
a n d l i m ited rea l i ty, w h i c h i n s u c h s u rro u n d i n gs , w i t h a s i m i l a rly
iso lated a n d not n u m e ro u s com m a n d , takes o n seri o u s ness and
n ecessity, i m p l ies a vigi l a n t appl ication above a n d beyo n d t h e
m i l ita ry profession's t e n d e n cy to play a n d to p a s s t h e t i m e , a n d
n o t o n l y a l l ows b u t act u a l l y c u l t i vates a s e l f- re l i a n t attentiveness.
And to be among co n d i t i o n s that work at us, that set u s before
big natural t h i ngs from t i m e to t i m e , is a l l we need.
Art too i s o n l y a way of living, and, h oweve r o n e l ives , o n e
ca n , u nwitti n g l y, p repa re o n e s e l f fo r i t ; i n a l l that i s rea l o n e i s
c l o s e r to i t a n d m o re n e a r l y n e i g h bored t h a n i n t h e u n real h a l f­
a rt i s t i c profes s i o n s , w h i c h , wh i l e t h ey p retend prox i m ity to s o m e
a rt . i n practice be l i e a n d assa i l t h e exi stence of a l l a rt , a s for
i n sta n ce t h e w h o l e of j o u r n a l i s m does a n d a l most a l l c r i t i c i s m
a n d t h ree-q u a rters of what i s ca l l ed a n d wants to be ca l l ed l itera­
t u re . I a m g l a d , in a word , that you have s u rm o u nted t h e d a n ge r
of fa l l i n g i nto t h i s sort of t h i n g a n d a re somewhere i n a ro ugh
rea l i ty b e i n g s o l i t a ry and cou ra geo u s . May t h e yea r that i s at
hand uphold and strengt h e n you i n that.

Ever yo u rs :
Ra i n e r M a r i a R i l ke

50 Lr.mns TO n rounG ron

 Cl1ITOI1ICLI. 1 003- 1 000

L
 Cl1ITOITICLL. 1 003- 1 000

The life of one tha t laboureth and i s contented shall be made sweet.
-Ecclesiasticus

I NTRODUCTION

W
hen the Young Poet m a d e h i s appeal t o R i l ke. he m u st have
had some i n kl ing of the sort of sympathy he m ight look for.
but he co u l d sca rce ly have rea l i zed what d i scords of bitter mem­
ory he had j a rred . Perhaps no s i n g l e episode of h i s youth had l eft
such lasti ng i m p ress upon R i l ke's development as h i s expe rience
at m i l itary schoo l ; hence its i m portance in relation to that l ater
period i n which the Letters to a Young Poet fa l l . H e had been sent to
Sankt-Polten as a matter of co u rse by a conventional offi cer
father and a self-absorbed . re l igious-fanatical mother who in her
letters o n l y excited h i m to fu rther u n happiness with exp ressions
of sympathy and seemed to have no idea of mending the situa­
tion either by strengthen i ng him to e n d u re the ordeal or by
re movi ng h i m . Although he entered i n good co ndition , s u n ­
bu rned and wel l a h e r s u m m e r h o l i days and of n o r m a l develop­
ment fo r his age, he was by temperament tota l ly u n fitted to sta nd
the physical d i sci p l i n e of any such estab l i s h m ent and, w h i ch was
even worse, soon beca me the vict i m of his comrades' active and
ohen cruel contempt. Doubtless they fo und him a romantic senti­
menta l i st and prig, for which his early ch i l d hood wou l d have been

61
m u ch to b l a m e . Any ten- or twelve- o r ·fo u rteen -yea r-old boy w h o ,
on b e i n g vigoro u s l y s t r u c k i n t h e face, co u l d say " i n a q u i et vo i ce
. . 'I e n d u re it beca u s e C h rist e n d u red i t , s i l e ntly a n d w i t h o u t
com p l a i n t , a n d w h i l e you w e r e h i tt i n g m e I p rayed my g o o d G o d
to fo rg ive you , "' n eed h a v e expected noth i ng b u t t h e d e r i s i ve
la ughter of h i s co ntempora ri e s . But t h i s sort of t h i ng d rove h i m
t o n ights o f weep i n g , t o fa r too m a n y days i n t h e i n fi r m a ry, " m o re
s p i r i t u a l l y a ffl i cted , " he says h i m se l f , " t h a n physica l l y i l l . " It d rove
h i m a l s o to writ i n g poet ry " w h i c h a l ready in its c h i l d i s h beg i n ­
n i ngs com fo rted" h i m-very fiery a n d n o b l e a n d not at a l l origi n a l
poetry, but st i l l h i s m ost n a t u ra l fo rm of response to h i s environ­
m e n t a n d refuge fro m i t .
M a n y yea rs l ater. i n the fa l l of 1 92 0 , R i l ke rece ived a letter
from a M a j o r-General Sed l a kowitz, who had taught h i m Germ a n at
the Sa n kt-Polten school and who, having rece ntly heard E l l e n Key
lect u re on the p ro m i n ent lyric poet. ventu red to express his a d m i ­
ration a n d to reca l l h i s early sympathy ( even though he h a d
appl i ed con s idera b l e red i n k to the i magi n at ive essays of h i s
p u p i l ) H e hoped fo r a n a n swer-eve n a s h o rt a n swer. R i l ke's reply
covers , aga i nst his two page s . eight . * It i s u n co m prom i s i n g a n d
cou rageou s a n d truthfu l , charm i n g a n d k i n d ; such a letter as o n l y
one who ca red for hon esty a n d had a fine s e n s e of de l i cacy i n
h u m a n re lat i o n s h ips wou l d h a v e t ro u b l ed to w r i t e . H e i s g ratefu l
for h i s corres pondent's des i re to re new acq u a i ntance, but te l l s
h i m straight from t h e s h o u l d e r t h a t h e fee l s he wou l d never h ave
been a b l e to m a ke what he has of h i s l i fe had he not tota l ly s u p -

• Both letters are given in full in Carl Sieber's R e n e R i l ke ( l nse/-Ver/ag, Leipzig, 1 93 2 )

Rilke's reply i s included in both editions of the Briefe ( l nse/-Ver/ag, Leipzi g ) , a n d i n Volume I I of
the Letters, translated by J. B. Greene and M . D. Herter Norton ( W. W. Norton & Compa n y ,
I nc . . N e w York, 1 948 ) .

0 2 mms TO 11 munG ron

pressed for decades a l l reco l l ection of th ose five years at m i l itary
school ; there were ti mes when the least memory of them t h reat­
ened the new creative consciousness for w h i ch he st rove, and he
has never been able to u ndersta nd t h i s vis itation of h i s ch i l d h ood.
I f his attitude seems exaggerated he begs the Major-Genera l to
remember that he had left the school exh austed , physica l l y and
spiritually m i s u sed and retarded at sixtee n , deprived of strength
for the great task a head of h i m , tota l ly m i sprepared, and grow i ng
always more awa re of how d i fferent an i ntrod uction to l i fe he
s h o u l d h ave had, s u ffering from the sense that the t i m e and effort
spent in those prepa ratory yea rs were i rret rievable. He wou l d l i ke
to acknowl edge any friendly i ncident that chanced to befa l l h i m
d u ring that t i m e , b u t anyt h i ng o f t h e sort was s o sca rce that i t
see m s o n l y natural he should h ave sought protection i n l ater
moments of his youth by including the whole experience "in the
fee l i ng of one s i ngle terri ble damnatio n . "
R i l ke n ever p u t t h rough the m i l itary novel h e had it i n m i nd
to write a n d the only descriptions he left . outside of h i s l etters ,
a re fragm ents . * But t h i s mature statement is evidence enough
that the expe riences of Sankt-Polten a n d Mah risch-Weisskirchen
a m o u nted to more t h a n c h i l d i s h d i scom fort , to much more than
mere u ncongen i a l ity. One m ight ask, who knows to what extent
they caused the cryst a l l izing out of his i ndividual characteristics?
For it i s to be noted that h e showed a typ ical loyalty to duty and

• See " Die Turnstunde:· chief of these. in Gesam melte Werke. IV ( l nsei-Verlag, 1 92 7 ) and.
together with an earlier versio n . in Sa m m t l iche Werke. IV 1 1 96 1 ) . Carl Sieber's Rene R i l ke
( l nsel-Verlag, 1 93 2 ) gives it (also " Pierre Dumont" and "Erin nerung") as written in tile
Scil margendorf Diary, Nov. 5, 1 899. Carl Niemeyer's R. M. Ri lke: Pri mal Sound and
Other Prose Pieces ( C u m m ington Press. C u m m ington. Mass . . 1 94 3 ) contains an English
transla tion. "Gym Period . "

cnKonm 1 003- 1 ooo o 3

s e l f- d i sci p l i n e , a n d no i n co n s i dera b l e . strength of w i l l , in e n d ur­
ing t h e m . Furth erm ore , they did n ot e m b itter h i m , m u c h a s he
shra n k and was appa l l ed ; t h ey seem o n l y to h ave opened u p-as
co u n terba l a n ce perhaps to h i s u l t i mate s e n s i t i vity a n d exa ltation
of t h o u ght-h i s pec u l i ar awareness of h u m a n m i sery, that m ost
acute m i sery of m i n d and spirit which despair and fear of what­
ever sort , psych o l ogical i f n ot bodi ly, may engender.

I NTER I M

H e l eft , w i t h h i s fat h er's approva l , i n t h e spr i n g of 1 89 1 ( a t fif­

l l teen and a h a l f) to fo u n d h i m s e l f "a n ew career" in a m ore
conge n i a l m a n n er. It is not s urpri s i n g that a youth w i t h t h e m a k­
i n gs of a poet , a n d especi a l ly a R i l ke , s h o u l d h ave been a m i sfit i n
s u c h a place. B u t i t i s surpri s i n g that R i l ke h i m se l f s h o u l d have
taken it for gra nted he was to beco m e an offi cer even d u r i n g the
first part of t h e e n s u i ng study years , w h i l e exter n a l i n fl u e n ces , it
i s to be assumed, were stronger w i t h him t h a n his awareness of
h i m self; or perhaps it wo u l d be tru er to say, before his convict i o n
of h i s ow n s i n g u l arity-for it d i d u p h o l d h i m even d ur i n g t h e
s c h o o l t i m e , t h i s knowing that he was not of o r for t h e l i fe of ot h ­
ers-h ad sta m ped i t s e l f u n d e n i a b l y u pon h i s exter n a l wor l d .
W h i l e stay i n g now w i t h h i s Un c l e ) aros l a v i n t h e s u b urb of
S m i c h ov, l y i n g i n t h e garden a n d w a n deri ng en fliineur about
Pra g u e , he sti l l wore u n i form on his wa l ks "beca u se i n these v i l ­
l ages o n e i s m ore respected . " I n t h e n ext w i nter at L i n z , wh ere he
went to atte n d t h e b u s i ness academy, h e composed his first
poem to be pri nted , a sw i ng i n g , mart i a l g l ori ficat ion of war i n
a n swer t o t h e Baroness von Suttner's " Lay Down Your Arm s ! " N o

o � mms T O 11 rounG ron

h u m a n i n dividual ity ever underwent greater change than R i l ke's
did in the next ten years. This partly exp l a i n s why at twenty-e ight,
with all h i s a rt i st's wisdom , he was sti l l search i n g for h i s own
foot h o l d ; how t h roughout h i s l i fe , wh i l e so determ i ned, he was
st i l l so u n establ i s hed.
Back i n Prague, he stud ied, privately at fi rst and l ater at the
Ca rl-Ferd i nand University: re l igion , p h i losophy, German , h i story
of a rt and of l iterature, and even the begi n n i ngs of the l aw. He
a l so read enormously: Goet h e , RUckert , Lena u , Shakespeare ,
Schopenha uer, Tol stoi . He seems to have been busy and happy
on the whole. H i s fi rst love affa i rs fa l l in t h i s period : an a m orou s
escapade w i t h a gove rness i n L i nz which he soon s a w as a n
"a l berne Liebelei" ( s i l ly fl i rtati on ) of w h i ch he w a s we l l rid; and
the th ree yea rs' association of st i m u lating com pa n i o n s h i p , work,
i n s p i ration , and roma n ce with Va lery David-Rhonfe l d , sign i ficant
for h i m , whatever it may have meant to her, s i nce u nder her i n flu­
ence ( da ughter of a n Austrian a rt i l lery officer l iving i n the
We i n berge section of Prague, she "pa i nted vases a n d wrote sto­
ries and com bi ned the two with the eccentric behavior of gen i u s , "
says Sieber) he reacted defi n itely a n d forever away from t h e con­
ve n t i o n a l cla ss-con sciousness of the a rmy i n h i s des i re to
become a n a rtist. All the t i m e he was writing. First, at the second
vo l u m e of a h i story ( not exta nt) of the Th i rty Yea rs' Wa r, the sig­
n i fi ca n ce of w h i ch he apparently saw as the revea l i n g of great
m e n , heroes, aga i nst the backgro u n d of events. Then a lways
poe m s , very rem i n iscent, o n l y here and there characte ristic of
h i m se l f beca use he cou l d n ot bear to publ i s h the t h i ngs he rea l l y
cared for a n d p u t forth only t h e least persona l . O n e vol u m e , Leben
und Lieder ( Life and Songs) . was p u b l i shed in 1 894 with money
Val ery put up; a n d two issues of Wegwarten (Chicory, which

Clll!OniCLr I 903- 1 000 0)

" Pa race l s u s says t u rn s every h u n d red y,ears i nto a l iv i n g be i n g , " so
R i l ke hopes h i s poe m s "may wake to h i g h e r l i fe i n t h e s o u l of t h e
people"), h e p u b l i shed h i m s e l f a n d w i t h a senti m e n ta l - idea l istic
gestu re gave away to hospita l s a n d free l i b ra r i e s ; a n d he a l so
p u b l i shed * i n vari o u s period i ca l s , on one of w h i c h he acted for a
t i m e as editor. Fi n a l ly, a n d with g reat s e r i o u s n e s s , d ra m a t i c
s ketches of a theatric-emot i o n a l ki n d , w h i c h tota l l y fa i l ed . T h e
o n l y p rod uct of t h e se yea rs w h i c h R i l ke thought worthy of i n c l u ­
s i o n i n the Gesa mmelte Werke i s Larenopfer ( Offerings to the Lares ) orig­
i n a l ly p u b l i shed at C h r i s t m a s 1 896 w h i l e he was studyi ng in
M u n ic h , a co l l ect i o n of poe m s for the most p a rt only conve n ­
t i o n a l G e rm a n - lyric i n form a n d content b u t colored b y fee l i ng for
h i s nat ive Bohe m i a a n d h e re and t h e re a l ready m o re perso n a l .
Tra u mgekron t ( Drea m-Crowned ) h e p u b l i s h ed i n 1 89 7 , a n d Advent i n
1 898.
After some brief but contented study at the Un ivers i ty of
Berl i n , R i l ke set out i n t h e spri ng of 1 899 fo r Moscow with h i s
fried L o u A n d reas-Sa l o m e . Tw i ce h e went t o R u s s i a , t h e seco n d
t i m e j ust a yea r later. T h e s e t w o t r i p s , d u r i n g wh ich h e not o n ly
t raveled a n d d ra n k deep of the sce n e a n d atmosphere of t h e
cou ntry, b u t met To l sto i , a n d Drosch i n t h e peas a n t poet , a n d
m a n y other p e o p l e i n t h e i ntel lect u a l a n d a rt i st i c worl d , left a n
i m p re s s i o n upon h i m ( he was twe nty-th ree a n d twenty-fou r)
w h i c h so pe netrated h i s creative i m ag i n a t i o n that its i n fl ue n ce i s
t o b e sen sed i n h i s concepts t h ro u g h o u t a n d t o t h e l a s t . " R u s s i a
was rea l ity a n d at o n ce t h e d e e p , d a i l y pe rce i v i n g that rea l ity i s
s o m et h i ng d i st a n t t h a t comes i n f i n itely s l ow l y to those who h ave

• Tlie sliort stories are to be found in E rza h l u ngen und Skizzen a u s der FrOhzeit ( l nsel­
Verlag, 1 92 8 ) and, witli a few not before published, in S a m m t l iche Werke, IV ( 1 96 1 ) .

oo mrm r o 11 rounG ron

patience. R u s s i a , the l a n d where the people a re solitary peopl e ,
e a c h w i t h a world i n h i mself. each fu l l of darkness l i ke a m o u n ­
ta i n . each deep i n h i s h u m i l ity, w i t h o u t fea r of a b a s i n g h i mself.
and therefore reve rent. People fu l l of d i stance, u n certai nty and
hope: evolving peopl e . And over all a never defi ned , ever chang­
ing, growing God . " Some of the Stories of God * give evidence of
what he fe lt.
On his ret u rn from the second trip ( 1 900) R i l ke vis ited
H e i n rich Voge ler, the pa i n ter. in Worpswede, an a rt i sts' colony
near Brem e n . Here he wrote many of the poe ms that were to
appear i n Das Bucli der Bilder (Tiie Book of Pictures ) , the fi rst edition of
which came out i n the spring of 1 90 2 . The associat ions of t h i s
t i m e have been credited w i t h m u ch i n fl u ence u pon R i l ke's po i n t
of view, and n o t w i t h o u t j u st i fication . But i n any such con sidera­
tion it should be borne i n m i n d that "the essent i a l nature of
' i n fl u ence' in his case i m p l i es a n expa n s i o n of what i s a l ready
prese nt i n his ge n i u s . not the i m position from without of the
a rt i stic creed of others. a fact which i s of su preme i m portance in
a l l R i l ke critici s m . and one which tends to be obscu red by h i s
characte ristic fa shion of g i v i n g h i mself u p e n t i rely, for the t i m e
b e i n g , to each great n e w experience i n h i s a rt i stic l i fe . " t
W h i l e at Worpswede he met the you ng scu l pt ress C l a ra
Westhoff. of a Bremen fa m i ly, to whom he was m a rried in the fol ­
low i n g year, m a k i n g h i s h o m e w i t h her i n nea rby Westerwede ,
where i n December th e i r daughter R u t h w a s born . H e re he wrote
h i s book on the group of Worpswede pa i nte rs. p u b l i s h ed in 1 902.

• Geschichten vom l ieben Gott. first published a t Christmas. 1 900. under the title Vom
l i eben Gott u n d Anderes (An G rosse fOr Kinder erza h lt ) .
t G . Craig Houston . "Rilke's Buch d e r Bi lder," Modern Language Review. XXIX. 3, J uly, 1 934.

cnnonm I OOJ- l ooo 07

D u ri ng t h i s period it was. a n d u n do u btedly owi n g i n part to h i s
i nterest i n h i s w i fe's work, t h a t he ca m e u p o n t h e idea w h i c h led
him to u nd e rtake for R i c h a rd M u t h e r's series of m o n og ra p h s a
study of Rod i n .

LETTER O NE

H e went to Pa r i s towa rd t h e e n d of August 1 902 w i t h t h e p u r­

l l pose of p repa r i n g h i m se l f for t h i s agree a b l e task, and i nc i d e n ­
t a l l y of study i n g at t h e l i braries u n d e r t h e g u i d a nce of t h e
Yico m te de Vog U e , t h e Fre n c h h i stori a n a n d critic. who was a con ­
n o i s s e u r of t h i ngs R u s s i a n . R i l ke at t h i s t i m e spoke Fre n c h o n l y
h a l t i ngly, a l t h o u g h h e had b e e n b r us h i n g u p at t h e Berl i tz School
in Bre m e n before com i n g , and t h i s ca u sed h i m to be s h y a t fi rst of
meet i n g people and gave him p a rt i c u l a r e m barra s s m e n t when he
fi rst met Rod i n . H e says that t h e o m n i potence of t h e l a nguage
saddened h i m . b u t i t m u st have been a cha l l enge, fo r h e was
a l ready w r i t i n g verse in Fre n c h .
We k n o w fro m t h e p o i g n a n t observa t i o n i n h i s descript i o n s
t h a t h e was busy taking i n a l l t h e exter n a l deta i l s that m a ke t h e
c h a rm of that i rres i s t i b l e c ity-b r i dges , street s , soft s k i e s , s m e l l s.
s o u n d s a n d s i g h t s , b u i l d i ng s , pop u l ace-a n d t h a t i n later years
and in oth e r moods h e fe l t d rawn to Pari s . B u t his fi rst i m p res­
sions were l itt l e s h o rt of terri b l e . H e fo u n d t h e c i ty stra n g e , i n i m ­
i ca l , rese m b l i ng i n i t s excitements, i t s i n i q u it i e s a n d bea uti es.
those b i b l i c a l cities w h i ch the Lord rose u p to destroy. He fe lt
alone a n d re j e cted of these peop l e , frightened in t h e fo re i g n t u r­
m o i l a n d a l l t h e i m p l icat i o n s of t h e i r l ives , yet t h ro u g h h i s sym ­
pathy a n d i nterest i n h u m a n i ty's concerns torn o u t of h i m s e l f i nto

oo mrm ro 11 munG ron

t h e i r existences . The newspapers sh ocked h i m with their exciting
accou nts of cri me. show-w i ndows with pictorial expos itions of
d i sease; he u n derstood why "hospita l s a re always occurring in
Verl a i n e and Ba udel a i re and M a l l arme . " Much of t h i s feel i ng about
Pa ris i s of cou rse recorded in the Au{zciclinungen des Malte Laurids
Brigge, * and many of the epi sodes there noted are. notwithstand­
i n g R i l ke's wish that the book as a whole should not be so
regarded. di rectly autobiograph ica l . Before going to s l eep, for
exa m p l e , he wou l d read the 30th chapter of Job, wh ich he says
ent i rely expressed his own state , and in the n ight he wou l d seek
consolation i n Ba udelai re's Petits poemes en prose, especi a l ly that
one w h i ch runs " E n f i n! I a tyra n n i e de I a face h u m a i n e a d i spa ru .
et je ne souffri ra i p l u s que par moi-meme," a n d cl oses with the
paragraph "Mecontent de tous . . " q u oted i n the Notebooks . Pa ris,
h e wrote only a few months later. "was for me a s i m i l a r experience
to the m i l itary schoo l ; as in those days a great fea rfu l asto n i s h ­
ment seized m e , so n o w the terror seized m e aga i n before a l l that
w h i c h , as i n a n i n descri ba ble con fu s i o n . i s ca l l ed l i fe . "
H e l ived at fi rst at n u m ber I I r u e Tou l l i e r-a brief l ittle street
close a bove the Sorbo n n e-t he address which heads the ope n i ng
of the Notebooks. Un doubted ly some of the gloom of these early
i m press ions m u st have been encou raged by his su rrou n d i ngs: a
d i ngy l ittle Lat i n Q u a rter hote l . too m uch i n the m i dst of the stu­
dent worl d , i n a depress i ngly na rrow street which brought many
oppos ite wi ndows too near to h i s own . his eve n i ngs l ighted by a
s m e l l y a n d wavering kerosene l a m p . He m oved after a few weeks
to a nother l ittle hotel nea rby, at n u m ber 3 rue de !'Abbe de

• The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. , New York,
1 949 ) . formerly translated as The Journal of My Other Self.

cnKomm t oo3- t ooo oo

I' Epee, wh ere he was l iv i n g at t h e t i m e of t h e fi rst of these Letters
to a Young Poet, a n d w h e n ce fro m h i s fift h -floor b a l cony he l ooked
over garde n s , t h e n rows of h o u s e s , to the d o m e of the Pa n t h eon ,
. . a n d sky a n d m o rn i ng a n d even i n g , space . . . . " But even h e re
t h e atmosphere oppressed h i m as m u ch as befo re . I n j u d g i n g of
his s u scept i b i l ity to what a re s o m et i m e s ca l l ed morbid i m pres­
s i o n s , it i s to be re m e m bered that R i l.ke c a m e-not strong a n d
certa i n ly hypersen s i t i ve b y d i spos i t i o n to n o i s e , to ugl i n es s , t o
t h e physical wea r of co m p l ex s u rro u n d i ngs-from t h e q u i et of a
Germ a n -speaki n g l o w l a n d co u n t ry to l i ve , p ra ct i ca l l y fo r t h e fi rst
t i m e , a l o n e to beg i n with a n d but a step re m oved from pove rty, i n
t h e heart o f o n e of t h e world's great c i t i e s ; w h i c h fact b y itse l f
wo u l d acco u n t fo r a good d e a l of h i s s e n s e of co n fu s i o n a n d
s h ock a n d d read . Fo r h e w a s n o t yet a n c h o red i n h i m s e l f a n d i n
h i s work; h e w a s o n e of t h o s e to w h o m s u c h a n c h o rage w a s fo r­
ever b e i n g d e n i e d .
H e had come w i t h a pu rpos e , h oweve r, a n d t h e d i ffi cu l t i e s
m a d e h i m o n l y t h e m o re determ i n ed to stay, beca u s e h e fe lt t h a t
i f h e o n ce g o t i n to w o r k t h e r e , i t w o u l d be very deeply, a n d fo r
t h i s he was wa i t i n g , prepa r i n g . H i s h o u rs had been fu l l of occ u ­
pat i o n . H e wo u l d spend d a y s at t h e B i b l iotheq u e N a t i o n a l e ,
read i ng Fre n c h l i t e ra t u re a n d h i story, o r exa m i n i n g reproduc­
tions of twe l ft h - a n d t h i rteenth-ce n t u ry cat h e d ra l s . Other days
h e wo u l d spend in m u s e u m s studying p i ct u res a n d scu l pt u re ,
acq u a i n t i n g h i m s e l f i n prepa rat i o n fo r h i s work o n Rod i n w i t h
t h e a n t i q u e , t h e c l a s s i c , t h e m o d e rn , s e e i n g fo r t h e fi rst t i m e t h e
g reat Bott i ce l l i s a n d Leo n a rd o s , t h e Ve n u s d e M i l o ( w h i c h w a s
"too modern " fo r h i m ) . t h e N i ke of S a m o t h race ( w h i c h , o n t h e
o t h e r h a n d , expressed t h e t r u e G reece to h i m ) . t h e g racefu l
world of Ta n a g ra . The Pa n t h e o n he fo u n d a "ki n d l y p l a ce " ; Notre

70 mm.s TO n munG ron

Dame grew u pon h i m eve ry day. It was a most i m po rtant period
in his development.
And to all the disturbance Rod i n was a "great. q u iet. powe rfu l
co ntradiction . " Be h i n d h i s own rest l ess u nease R i l ke was experi­
e n c i ng the infl uence that rad i ated from the i m m ense ca l m
strength o f t h i s great creat ive persona l i ty, that seemed t o shelter
him u nder its co lossa l i m p ress "from the thousan dfold fears that
ca me later. " Perhaps the most i m portant si ngle element fo r h i m
i n t h e i r association a t t h i s t i m e . came t h rough Rod i n 's phi loso­
phy of "to u j o u rs trava i l ler" which R i l ke so touchi ngly, and eve r
a n d aga i n so va i n ly, sought to exe m p l i fy in h i s own l i fe . Fo r occu­
pat ion howeve r i ntent. study, read i ng , the p u rs u i t of education or
of i n format ion . have not fo r the a rt i st that utm ost sat i s faction
which both elates and ca l m s . both i n spi res and exhausts. and
which comes only with his own creative activi ty. Here was Rod i n.
i n d a i l y a n d cont i n uous preoccupation hewing a n d molding the
v i s i o n s of near a l i fet i m e with that l i fetime's acq u i red ski l l . w h i l e
the poet Ri l ke w a s pass i n g t h rough a period of frustrat ion .
. . ve ry alone and very fo rsaken I go my way; a n d of cou rse
that is good : I never wanted it otherwise. But a l l the fea r and
wo rry that ca me and grew with the happi ness a n d the l a rgess of
the past yea r. has made that i n me which creates weak and u n cer­
ta i n a n d t i m i d . . . . But I am a very defenseless creatu re ( beca use I
was a very t i m i d , lost. defenseless ch i l d ) . a n d when fate cries out
to me I a lways grow q u i te, q u ite sti l l for a long t i m e and m u st
rem a i n so. even though I su ffer u n speakably day and n ight from the
no-longer-so u n d i ng . . . . Shou ld one perhaps seek rescue i n some
qu iet handicraft and not be fea rfu l fo r whatever fru it may be ripen­
i ng deep with i n one, beh ind a l l the rouse and sti r? Someti mes I
t h i n k it wou l d be a way out, beca use I see a lways more clearly that

cnnonm t oo.H ooo 1 1

for a person l i ke me n ot h i ng i s h a rder a n d m o re d a n gerous t h a n
t ry i n g to earn h i s l iv i n g by w ri t i ng . I ca n n ot force m y s e l f l i ke t h a t
to w r i t e at a l l ; a n d t h e consciousness a l o n e that s o m e re l a t i o n
e x i s t s between m y writ i n g a n d t h e n o u r i s h m e n t a n d n e e d s o f t h e
day i s e n o u g h to m a ke w o r k i m po s s i b l e for m e . I m u st wait i n
st i l l n e s s for t h e s o u n d i n g . I k n ow that i f I force i t i t w i l l not come
at a l l . (It h a s come s o seldom in t h e l a st two yea rs . ) . . . o n bad
days I h ave only dead word s . a n d they a re s o corpse-h eavy that I
ca n n ot write w i t h t h e m not even a l etter. I s that bad , weak? And
yet God w i l l s it s o w i t h me.
Thus h e w rote to E l l e n Key o n Feb r u a ry 1 3t h . 1 90 3 , fou r days
before t h e fi rst of these Letters to a Yo ung Poet. W h a t n ot i o n of t h i s
state of m i nd cou l d t h e you t h fu l K a p p u s poss i b l y have h a d ?
There m a y be by n a t u re l ittle i n com m o n between a n a rt i s t w h o
weaves h i s v i s i o n s i nto w o r d s a n d o n e w h o t r a n s fe rs h i s t h ro u g h
t h e s t u rdy a n d concrete tech n i ca l i t i e s of scu l p t u r e . y e t s o m et h i n g
l i ke t h e g u i d i ng a s s u ra n ce t h a t R i l ke cou l d h o l d before young
Kappus h e was h i m s e l f d ra w i n g n ow from Rod i n .

LETTER TWO

Il s t h e Pa r i s i a n w i nter worked no good to h i s h e a l t h . he fled i n

M a rch t o a w a r m e r c l i mate, t o t h e sea a t Via regg i o , not fa r
from P i s a-th e spot n e a r w h i c h a l m ost a h u n d red years earl i e r,
a ft e r t h e sad w recki n g of t h e Ariel, S h e l l ey's body was cast u p o n
t h e p i ne-tri m m ed sandy s h ore. R i l ke had been h e re before . i n t h e
s p r i n g of 1 898, a n d had at that t i m e written t h e Lieder der Madchen
( G irls' Songs) a n d t h e fi rst d ra ft of t h e Weisse Fiirstin (The White

72 mms ro n munG ron

Princess ) . Duri ng the present sojourn he was to be seen wandering
a bout with his Bible and his J acobsen ( N iels Lt�hne ) , i n ret reat from
the pers i stent E n g l i s h and Germ a n tourist chatter of the H otel
Florence , fi n d i n g sol itary refreshment in s u n baths and ocean
p l u nges and ba refoot wa l ks along u ntena nted stretches of the
beach . He descri bes his costu m e as a black-a nd-red-stri ped
bat h i ng-s u i t of which he wore o n l y the trunks, keeping the top
"to p u l l on in case of emergency, and the emergency i s the
Engl i s hwoman who may bob u p a nywhere . " The sea d i d h i m
good ; "it clean ses me w i t h i t s n o i s e a n d l ays a rhythm u pon
everyt h i ng i n me that i s d i stu rbed a n d confused . " When at t i m e s ,
to h i s s u rprise, it seemed n o t so benefici a l , "too loud and too
i n cessa n t , " he wou ld withdraw i nto the woods where he had
fou n d a great recl i n i ng t ree root on which he "sat for hou rs as
a l o n e as on the fi rst day of the worl d . " H e very soon wrote to
C l a ra : "I a l ready feel my sol itude aga i n a l ittle and su spect that it
w i l l deny me not h i ng i f I hea rken to i t with new strengt h . " And
aga i n , a fortn ight later: " Everyone m u st fi nd in his work the center
of his l i fe and thence be able to grow out rad i a l ly as fa r as may be.
And no one else may watch him in the process . . . for not even he
h i mself may do that. There i s a ki nd of clea n n ess a n d v i rgi n i ty i n
i t , i n t h i s looki ng away from oneself: i t i s as though one were
d rawi ng, one's gaze bou nd to the obj ect , i n woven with Natu re ,
w h i l e one's h a n d goes its o w n w a y somewh ere below, goes o n
a n d on , gets t i m i d , wavers , i s glad aga i n , goes on a n d on fa r
below the face that sta nds l i ke a sta r a bove i t , not looki ng, only
s h i n i ng . I feel as though I had a l ways worked that way; face gazi ng
at fa r t h i ngs, hands a l o n e . And so it s u rely ought to be. I s h a l l be
l i ke that aga i n in t i m e . "

cnnonm 1 go:J- 1 goo n

 LETT E R TH REE

T h i s awake n i ng creative u rge fo u n d its o u t l et i n t h e w r i t i n g of

pa rts of t h e Stundenbuch ( Book of Hours ) . He del ayed h i s ret u rn
to Pa ris beca u s e of i t , fee l i ng that h owever s l ight it m ight p rove to
be it wou l d not be good "to go w i t h it i n t h e g reat ra i l way t ra i n
a n d t o n e w i m pres s i o n s i n Genoa a n d D i j o n " ; w h i l e i f it ca m e to
noth i n g i t wo u l d be "better to expe rience the l ittle d i sappoint­
m e n t here, know i n g that it was not one's own fa u lt . " H e went back
at the end of Apri l , h a v i n g "done noth i n g here but write a few let­
ters and read Wa lter Pater's I maginary Por traits and a bad boring
book by t h e Russian M e re j kowski on Leo n a rd o . "

LETTER FO U R

T h e p l a n t o write a m o n ograph o n Eugene Ca rriere w h i ch was

now i n his m i n d , never ca m e to a nyth i n g . H e did n ot stay long
t h i s t i m e , a l t h o u g h h e "kept fee l i ng that Pa ris m u st present me
with a n ot h e r work . " S u m m e r d rove h i m t h e n ce aga i n , with C l a ra ,
t o a few peacefu l weeks i n t h e flat l a n d s o f Worpswede , spent i n
t h e wh ite house of t h e i r fri e n d Voge l e r. H e n ow, o n J u ly 1 8t h , two
days a fte r w r i t i n g Letter Fo u r, set down in a long acco u n t to Lou
Andreas-Sa l o m e what wa s , a s i t were, fi l l i ng another seg m e n t of
his consci o u s n e s s , a deta i l ed descript i o n of t h e effects Pa ris had
had on h i m , g i v i n g u s t h e fi rst s u sta i n ed i n t i m at i o n of what was
to come in The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge . Th ree weeks later­
havi n g gone at t h e e n d of J u l y to v i s i t " o u r l i ttle Ruth w h o h a s h e r
l itt l e l i fe n ot fa r fro m h e re , " at Obern e u l a n d , w h e re s h e l i ved w i t h
C l a ra's pa rents-he w rote to t h i s s a m e g reat fri e n d , to w h o m h e

7 4 ltTTEITS T O 1\ TOUITG FOET

revea led many of h i s i n ner d i lemmas a n d much concern ing the
stages of his growt h : " . . . 0 Lou . i n one poem that I succeed with
t h e re i s more rea l i ty than i n a ny re lation or i n c l i nation that I fee l .
Where I create I am true, a n d I want t o fi nd the strength t o b u i l d
my l i fe w h o l l y u pon t h i s truth . u pon t h i s i n fi n ite s i m p l icity a n d
j oy t h a t i s someti mes given me. . . But h ow s h a l l ! beg i n . . . ?" H e
kn ows-h e i s n o w twenty-seven-that he sti l l lacks the d i sc i p l i n e
for which he l o n g s i n order t o work. " H ave I n o t the strengt h ? I s
my wi l l sick? I s it the d ream i n me that h a m pers a l l action? Days
go by and someti mes I hear l i fe go i ng. And st i l l not h i ng has hap­
pened yet . not h i n g rea l i s a round me yet . "
I s it i n the l a ngu age itself t h a t h e m u st seek the too l s o f h i s
a rt? I s it i n some speci a l stu dy, closer knowl edge o f a s u b j ect? O r
i s it i n a cu l t u re part i n he rited , part l ea rned? B u t he i s co nscious
of having to fight everyt h i ng i n his i n heritance, while what he has
ach ieved fo r h i mself i s negl i g i b l e ; he i s a l most without education .
H i s effo rts at a n y given study were a l ways broken off. pa rtly
beca use of the curious and s u rpri s i n g sense that he had to go
back from an i n n ate knowledge by laborious ways that fi n a l ly,
with much ci rcu mambu lation , wo u n d back to it. He needed
books . but when i n the B i b l i otheque N a t i o n a l e he fo u n d h i mself
among those he had long coveted , everyt h i n g i n them seemed so
i m portant that he nearly succumbed to copying the whole text ,
a n d ca me away confused a n d fu l l of superfl uous i n format i o n . h i s
notes proving o f l i ttle u s e t o h i m afterwa rd . "And I am s i m i l a rly
h e l p l ess in the face of those occu rrences that come and go, with­
out g i ft of choice. without com pos u re of ass i m i lation . a m i rror
tu rned t h i s way and that out of which a l l the reflections fa l l .
that is why I need so terri bly to fi n d the worki ng materi a l of my
a rt . . . . Somehow I m u st arrive at making t h i ngs; not plastic. writ-

crmonm 1 oo3- l ooo 75

ten t h i n gs-rea l it i e s , that e m e rge out of t h e h a n d iwork. " A l l t h e
wh i le h e feel s h i m s e l f "awkward i n l i fe , " l o s i n g p reci o u s m o m e n t s .
H o k u sa i , Leon a rd o , Rod i n l i ved i n t h e i r a rt a n d everyt h i ng i n
t h e m a n d t h e i r l ives g rew towa rd that on ly. " H ow s h a l l o n e n ot be
fea rfu l w h o b u t seldom comes i nto his s a n ct u a ry, beca u s e out
t h e re w h e re l i fe i s rea red aga i nst him he catches h i m s e l f i n eve ry
trap a n d stubs h i m s e l f b l u nt aga i n st every obstacl e . "
W h i l e t h i s w a s h i s i n n e r state of m i n d , h e w a s n evert h e l e s s
p la n n i n g n ew w o r k for the fa l l , i n Italy. B y t h e m i d d l e of A u g u s t h e
was ready to m ove on o n ce m o re , fon d a s h e was of t h i s m oor­
l a n d co u n t ry, the st i l l ness of its wide d i stances, the sweep a n d
fu l l ness of i t s w i n d s . The h o u s e of h i s p a rents- i n - l a w stood i n a
park at t h e back of wh ich t h e H a m b u rg expresses passed, a n d
t h e i r n o i s e ove rri d i n g t h at of t h e w i n d i n t h e t rees seemed , now
that h i s thoughts were e l sewhere, to d i s t u rb t h e q u i et of his s u r­
rou n d i ngs with a fo rewa rn i n g of t ravel a n d c i t i e s a n d n ew expe ri­
e n ces to come. N ow, at t h e w i s h of Rod i n w i t h w h o m s h e was
study i n g , C l a ra was to spend a year in Rome and to a s o j o u rn i n
t h e Ete rn a l C ity R i l ke w a s h i m s e l f n ot h i n g loat h . I t wou l d be h i s
fi rst v i s i t . H i s deep i nterest i n a rt h a d been i nt e n s i fied b y t h e
associat i o n w i t h Rod i n ; a n d a l l t h e l o n g backg ro u n d of s u c h a n
a rt i st's work h a d made h i m aware , beneath h u m a n h i st o ry, of a
m o re peacefu l u n d ercu rre n t i n t h e h i sto ry of t h e construct i o n of
"endless generat i o n s of t h i ng s , " a n d h e was eager for fresh con ­
tact w i t h t h e m a n i festat i o n s of a n t i q u ity. H e t h e o ri zed very bea u ­
t i fu l ly u po n w h a t h e w a s a b o u t to see , i m ag i n ed h i m s e l f a seeker
of t h e " i n n e r futu re in t h i s past in wh ich so m u ch that i s etern a l
w a s enclosed . "
I n t h e l atter p a rt of August 1 90 3 , t h e n , h e a n d h i s w i fe set o u t .
T h e y w e r e to m eet h i s p a r e n t s i n M a r i e n b a d . H i s fat h e r scarcely

1 0 mrm ro 1\ munG ron

approved of the move: they l ived so cas u a l ly, was Rene rea l ly
thoughtful of a secure futu re? nor of t h e i r vegeta rian i s m ; a n d as
for t h e i r att i re , fea ring "abnorma l i t i e s , " he bids Rene order a suit
from h i s Prague ta i l o r a n d hopes that C l a ra will a l so be properly
d ressed . ( Rene, at least i n later years, was part i cu l a r a bout h i s
clothes: t hey were s i m p l e a n d they m ight b e o l d , but they had a n
a i r of q u a l ity a n d com fort . ) Thence they proceeded ove r M u n ich
a n d Ve n i ce , i n both of wh ich cities R i l ke particu l a rly e n j oyed the
pict u res of Z u loaga , whom they had met i n Pa r i s ; a n d so over
Florence to reach Rome a month later.
H i s d i sappoi ntment of the fi rst few days he expressed i n
m a n y l etters . Rome was "for t h e most part a b a d m u seu m , " fu l l of
"senseless statues , " lacked the expected G reek glories, had too
many Ren i s and G u erci n os-a n d he s u ffered m uch d i st ress on
observ i n g the Ita l ian talent for a b u s i n g a n i m a l s . But grad u a l ly he
fou n d the va l ua b l e t h i ngs, a n d he was able to t h row off what trou­
bled him about the city as he had not been able to do i n Pa ri s .
T h e c l i m ate a l s o , despite i n clemencies, he fe lt to b e l e s s harmfu l .
The Borghese Gardens provided a refuge. And he speaks aga i n
a n d aga i n o f t h e fou n t a i n s a n d t h e steps which were to h i m a con­
sta nt sou rce of refreshment a n d j oy.

LETTER FIVE

H e was n ow l iving at5 via del Campidog l i o , the l ast house ( n o

l l ionger sta n d i n g ) on a l ittle te rrace ove rl ooki ng the Foru m . The
m ood of Obern e u l a n d was sti l l upon h i m : he fou n d it easier to
col l ect h i m se l f sitting in the n a rrow ci rcle of l a m p l ight in his l ittle
room than out i n the moon l ight n ight, for which "one m ust fi rst

cnnonm 1 oo3- t ooo 7 7

have beco m e somet h i n g aga i n i n o rder to fee l it as space i n w h i ch
;
one is a l o n e a n d i n w h i ch o n e belongs . ' But he was not ave rse to
h i s s u rro u n d i n g s . A favo rite wa l k he made eve ry day i n c l uded t h e
a s c e n t to t h e Capito l . "wh e n , with t h e m ove m e n t of o n e ri d i ng ,
t h e fi n e s m ooth bronze l i keness of M a rcus A u re l i u s m o u nts u p
stride b y stride. from sta i r to sta i r. " T h e l i tt l e h o u s e h e m e n t i o n s .
i n to w h i ch h e was p l a n n i n g t o m ove a n d w h e re h e hoped to
"bu i l d a wi nter" fo r h i m se l f . was a former s u m m e r- h o u se-of one
h i g h -w i n dowed room , with a flat roof from wh ich one had a w i d e
v i ew of t h e Roman l a n d scape-"the last a n d most remote i n t h e
l a rge w i l d gard e n " of t h e Vi l l a Stro h i - Fern . a d j o i n i n g t h e Borghese
gard e n s . H e re C l a ra was a l ready i n sta l led i n l i v i n g q u a rters a n d a
s t u d i o . "It is a h a ppy c i rc u m stance t h a t b rought me to d i scover
t h i s pl ace. and I t h i n k I s h a l l take plea s u re in it, in the eve n i ngs
that may be spent t h ere, i n the g reat wi de-open n i ghts with the
sound of a n i m a l s that m ove. fru its that fa l l . w i n d s that sti r. .
The m ost i m po rta nt t h i n g to m e w i l l be to get to some sort of
work t h e re a s soon a s poss i b l e . t h e reg u l a r d a i l y recu rrence of
wh ich I m ay s i m pl y h ave to ach ieve by force i f it does n ot want to
come of its own accord . Then I s h a l l go i n to the city com p a ra ­
t i v e l y seldo m , often spend d a y s on end out t h e re a n d g e t my o w n
l i ttle m ea l s i n my herm itage a n d be q u ite a l o n e w i t h my h a n d s . "

L ETT E R S I X

I n t h e m i d d l e of N ovember h e m oved i n . But n ow h e co m p l a i n ed

of p ro l o n ged ra i n s . of i n a b i l ity to get to work. of wa i t i n g fo r t h e
p rop i t i o u s h o u r, a n d h o w t h i s wa i t i n g m a kes it a lways h a rder t o
begi n , " a n d t h e happi ness of being a beg i n n e r, w h i c h I hold to b e

7 o mms r o n munG ron

the greatest , is s m a l l beside the fea r of beg i n n i ng . . . . " He wrote
on December 1 9t h : " I am now pretty we l l i nsta l l ed in the l ittle
house. it lacks noth i ng save that w h i ch I can not give it-save l i fe .
wh i ch i s i n a l l t h i ngs and i n m e ; save work. w h i ch b i n d s o n e t h i n g
to a nother and l i n ks everyt h i n g w i t h the great n ecess ity; save j oy,
which comes from with i n and from act ivity; save pat ience. which
can wait for what comes from afa r. "
Ch ristmas brought t h e begi n n i ngs o f "a sort o f spri ng" afte r
the long ra i n s . but to R i l ke and h i s wife its eve was to be "only a
q u iet hour. no more; we s h a l l sit in the rem ote l i ttle garden house
a n d t h i n k of those who a re having Christmas; of o u r s m a l l dear
Ruth a n d of ou rselves. as though somewhere we were sti l l the
ch i l d ren we once were-the expectant, glad-t i m i d Ch ristmas ch i l ­
dre n . u pon whom great su rprises desce nd l i ke angels from with i n
a n d without. . . . " It w a s not t i l l t h e m i ddle of J a n u a ry t h a t o n e day,
after a bit of "real work" sweep ing the heavy poo l s of ra i nwater
from his roof and clearing away the dried and fa l l en oak leaves ,
with the b l ood s i n g i n g in h i m "as in a tree , " he fe lt for the very
fi rst t i m e after a long spe l l "a tiny l i ttle bit free a n d fest ive . " H e
had n o w res u m ed after a con s i derable pa use the tra n s lation o f
" T h e S o n g of the H ost of Igor, " a n ancient R u s s i a n epic. and a t
t h i s he w a s worki ng eve ry m o r n i n g . Some read i ng , a book review
or so-he d i d not want for occu pat i o n .
T h e good m ood cont i n ued i n February. H e wrote to E l l e n Key
on the 6t h : "It rea l l y see m s as though t h i ngs were q u ieting down
a rou n d me. and even i f my n e rves . w h i ch a re j u m py, somet i m e s
d read distu rba nce from o u t s i d e or u n certa i nty i n health , there i s
yet m u ch i n m e t h a t i s gathering itse l f toget her. a n d my longing
to do somet h i ng good , somet h i n g rea l l y good , was never so great
a s n ow. I feel as though I had been sleeping for yea rs or had been

crmonm 1 903- 1 900 79

l y i n g i n t h e l owest h o l d of a s h i p t h a t , l oaded w i t h h eavy t h i n g s ,
sai led t h rough s t r a n g e d i st a n ces -- O h to c l i m b u p o n deck
once m o re and feel the w i n d s and the b i rd s , and to see how t h e
great. great n ights c o m e w i t h t h e i r g l ea m i n g stars . . . "
He had e m ba rked upon "a sort of 2 n d P a rt to t h e Stories -of­
God book"; but by the m i d d l e of M a rch ( havi ng a l so fi n i s hed t h e
R u s s i a n t ra n s l at i o n , w h i c h rem a i n s i n m a n u script) h e was "stuck
s o m ew h e re in t h e m i d d l e of it" and d i d n ' t know whether h e wo u l d
cont i n u e it o r not.

LETTER SEVEN

W
h ateve r its up a n d down s , t h i s Ro m a n w i nter p roved a n
i m po rt a n t o n e i n h i s own g rowth . W i t h h i s n ew work­
whether he refers o n l y to t h e seco n d part of t h e Stories, o r
i n cl udes h e re t h e beg i n n i n g of t h e Notebooks, w h i c h t o o k p l ace
some t i m e d u ri n g t h i s peri od-ca m e the d i s cove ry that his way of
worki ng had c h a n ged , h i s powers of observa t i o n had grown m o re
absorptive so that he wou l d probab l y never aga i n m a n age to
write a book i n ten days or eve n i ngs ( a s he had t h e Stories of God ) .
b u t wo u l d spend a l o n g t i m e over each e n d eavor. "Th i s i s good , "
h e wrote to Lou Andreas-Sa l o m e o n Apri l 1 5t h ; " i t m a rks p rogress
tow a rd t h at a lways-wo rki ng w h i c h a t any cost I m u st a c h i eve fo r
myse l f; perhaps a fi rst step toward i t . But i n t h i s c h a n ge t h ere l i es
a new da nger too; to hold off outside d i s t u rb a n ces fo r eight o r ten
days i s poss i b l e-; b u t fo r weeks , fo r months? Th i s fea r pressed
upon me, and i s perhaps itself p ri m a ri ly to b l a m e for the fact t h a t
m y w o r k wavered a n d w i t h t h e begi n n i ng of M a rch b roke off. A n d
w h a t I t o o k to be a l ittle b r e a k a n d pause h a s beco m e l i ke heavy

oo mrm ro n munG ron

hol idays hanging over m e , that sti l l cont i n u e . . . . My progress i s
somehow rat her l i ke the steps of a conva l escent, u ncom monly
weight less, totteri ng, a n d beyond all measure need i n g help. And
the h e l p i s lacki ng."
By May he was a l ready s u ffering from the heat, fee l i ng good­
for-noth i n g with headache, longing for more northerly rea l m s , yet
havi ng no p l a n , no pl ace to t u rn to. "Al as, that I have no parental
co u n t ry home, nowhere i n the world a room with a few old t h i ngs
in it and a win dow looki ng out i nto great t rees .
Yet h i s awa reness of the a lterat ion in h i mself had been lead­
i n g him to a more positive attitude, a more practical sense of
what he wanted to go a fter, of his own relation to l i fe and work.
The fol l owi ng, dated May 1 2th from Rome, and aga i n to Lou
An d reas-Sa lome, ma rks a co n s i derable change from the thoughts
he had expressed to E l l e n Key from Pa ris fifteen months ea rlier:
"Art i s . . . a longest road t h rough l i fe . a n d when I think how s l ight
a n d beg i n nerish what I have done t i l l now is, I a m not s u rprised
that this prod uction (wh ich resemb les a strip of h a l f-t i l led field a
foot w i d e ) does not susta i n m e . Fo r p l a n s bear no fru i t , a n d seed
prematurely sown does not sprout. But patience and work a re
rea l a n d ca n at any moment be tra n s formed i nto brea d . ' I I fa ut
to u j o u rs t rava i l ler, ' said Rod i n whenever I attempted to co m p l a i n
t o h i m a b o u t the sch i s m i n d a i l y l i fe ; he knew no other sol ution ,
a n d t h i s of cou rse had been h i s . . . . To stick to my work a n d have
every co nfidence in i t , t h i s I am l ea r n i n g from h i s great a n d
great l y given exa m p l e , a s I l e a r n pat i e n ce from h i m ; it i s t r u e , my
experience tel l s me over a n d over that I haven't m u ch strength to
reckon with, for w h i ch reason I s h a l l , so long as it i s in a n y way
poss i b l e , not do two t h i ngs , not separate l ivel i hood a n d work,
rather t ry to find both in the one concentrated effort : o n l y t h u s

Ctlll.Ol11 CLr l OO.H OOO O l

can my l i fe beco m e someth i n g good a n d n ecessary a n d h e a l
toget h e r out of t h e tattered state f o r w h i c h h e re d i ty a n d i m ma t u ­
r i t y h a v e b e e n respo n s i b l e . i nto o n e bea r i n g t ru n k.
"Therefore I s h a l l determ i n e my n ext p l ace of abode, a l l e l s e
a s i d e , f r o m t h e po i n t of view of w o r k a n d t h a t on ly. I want t h i s t h e
more. s i n ce I f e e l myse l f i n t h e m i dst of deve l o p m e n t s a n d t ra n s i ­
t i o n s ( c h a n ges t h at affect observation a n d creation e q u a l l y ) .
w h i c h may s l owly lead to that toujo u rs travailler w i t h w h i c h a l l outer
a n d i n n e r d i ffi c u l t i e s . da ngers a n d con fu s i o n s wo u l d rea l ly be i n a
ce rta i n sense overco m e . . . for wh oeve r ca n always work, can l i ve
too, m u st be a b l e to . "
H e n o w h a d defi n i te p ro j ects p rovi d i n g h i m w i t h a vari ety of
work. The fi rst item h e e n u m e rates is the ca rry i n g o n of the Book
of H o u rs . The second i s h i s new book. the Notebooks. " t h e close-kn it
p rose of w h i c h i s a schoo l i n g for m e and a n advance that had to
be m a d e so that I may be able l a t e r some day to write everyt h i n g
e l s e-i n c l u d i ng t h e m i l i t a ry nove l . " H e see m s to have been
somewhat awed by t h i s p ro b l e m of writ i n g prose. for fo u r years
later, in a l l u s i o n to t h e same book. h e expressed h i m s e l f t h u s :
" I n w r i t i n g poet ry, o n e i s a l ways a i ded a n d even carried away by
t h e rhyt h m of ext e r i o r t h i n g s ; for t h e lyric cad e n ce is t h a t of
n a t u re : of t h e waters , t h e w i n d , t h e n i g h t . But to write rhyt h m i c
p rose o n e m u st g o deep i nto o n e se l f a n d f i n d t h e a n o n y m o u s
a n d m u l t i p l e rhyt h m of t h e b l ood . Prose n eeds to be b u i l t l i ke a
cat h e d ra l ; t h e re o n e is t r u l y w i t h o u t a n a m e . w i t h o u t a m b i t i o n .
w i t h o u t h e l p : on scaffo l d i n g s , a l o n e w i t h o n e ' s consci o u s n es s . "
I n a d d i t i o n t o these two i m po rta n t wo rks , h e l i sts . further, a n
atte m pt at d ra m a . a n d t w o m o n o g ra p h s , o n e o n j a cobse n , t h e
o t h e r o n Z u l oaga . I n co n n ect i o n w i t h t h e latter. h e p l a n ned to g o
to Spa i n , wh i l e f o r t h e sake of t h e fo r m e r h e was a l ready study i n g

02 mms T O /\ munG ron

Da n i s h . Neither ever ca me to anyt h i ng , nor, as we know. d i d the
nove l , w h i ch was appa rently to have dea lt with his Sankt-Polten
i m pression s .

That he rea l ized the shortco m i ngs of h i s own education h a s

a l ready been shown . "With my bringing u p , con d u cted accord i ng
to no pl a n . and with the i n t i m idation from w h i ch I su ffe red i n my
growi ng yea rs ( everywhere encountering la ughter a n d s u periority,
in my awkwa rdness repu l sed by everyon e ) I n ever had a chance to
learn m u ch of the prepa ratory t ra i n i ng , and most of the tech n i ca l ­
i t i e s of l i v i ng, wh ich later a re easy t o everyon e ; my awareness i s
fu l l t o the bri m w i t h recol lections of moments when a l l the peo­
ple about m e cou ld do somet h i n g and knew t h i ngs and acted
mec han ica l l y without t h i nking h ow to go about it. w h i l e I, embar­
ra ssed , d i d n ' t know where to begi n . wa s n ' t even able to i m itate
them by watch i n g . "
H e n o w drew u p . i n addition t o h i s writ i ng p l a n s . a l i st o f
s t u d i e s f o r h i mse l f which i m p l ied no i d l e a m b i t i o n . I n order to
carry them out he wanted to attend l ectu res in n a t u ra l science
a n d biology, to read a n d to see expe r i m e n t s ; to learn to work
with a rc h i ves and h i storical docu ments " i n so fa r as t h i s i s a
tech n i q u e a n d a h a n d i craft"; to read the G r i m m Brothers'
Dict i o n a ry together with medi aeva l l i terature ; to go on with h i s
Da n i s h ; t o conti n u e t o read a n d tra n s l ate Russ i a n ; t o tra n s l ate a
book of Francis l a m mes; a n d to rea d , a m ong others . M i chelet's
studies in natural h i story, and h i s h i story of France; also the
Gonco u rts' on the eighteenth ce ntury. H e thought of go i ng to one
of the s m a l l e r Germa n u n i versities to have access to the neces­
sary books and l ectu res.
The most s i g n i ficant thing about this l i st i n the clue it gives
us to the i n n er worki ngs of his m i n d , is the i nterest i n science. a

crmonm 1 903- t goo 03

n ew i nterest a n d based not so m uch on t h e des i re to p u rs u e a n y
special b r a n c h of knowl edge , a n y science a s s u c h , a s o n a c ravi ng
fo r t h e knowa b l e as a h o l d o n l i fe . H e w rote-aga i n to Lou
A n d reas-Sa l o m e on May 1 2th-:
"The re a re so many t h i ngs about which some old man ought
to t e l l o n e w h i l e o n e i s l ittle; fo r w h e n o n e i s g rown o n e wo u l d
know t h e m a s a matter of co u rs e . There a re t h e starry skies, a n d I
do not know what m a n k i n d h a s a l ready l e a r n ed about t h e m , not
eve n t h e order of the stars do I know. And so i t i s with flowers .
w i t h a n i m a l s , w i t h t h e s i m p l est laws, that f u n ct i o n h e re a n d t h e re
a n d go t h ro u g h t h e world i n a few strides from begi n n i ng to e n d .
H ow l i fe occ u r s . h o w it operates i n o rd i n a ry a n i m a l s , h o w it ra m i ­
fies a n d s p reads, h ow l i fe b l ossom s , h o w it bears: a l l t h a t I l o n g
to l e a r n . T h rough part i ci pa t i o n i n it a l l to b i n d myse l f m o re fi r m l y
to rea l ity-wh ich so often d e n i e s m e-to be of i t , n o t o n l y i n fee l ­
i n g b u t a l so by knowl edge , a l ways a n d a lways ; that I bel i eve i s
what I need, t o beco m e m o re s u re a n d not s o h o m e l e s s . You
s e n s e that I do not want sciences; fo r each o n e req u i res a l i fet i m e
a n d n o l i fe i s l o n g e n o u g h t o m a ster eve n i t s begi n n i ng s ; b u t I
want to cease to be an ex i l e , o n e who can not read t h e deeper
record of his time that points fa rt h e r forwa rd and reaches fa rt h e r
b a c k , a p r i s o n e r w h o s e n s e s everyt h i ng b u t h a s n o t t h e s m a l l cer­
t a i nty whether j u st now it i s day o r eve n i n g , s p r i n g o r w i nter. I
s h o u l d l i ke somewhere. w h e re that ca n be d o n e , to learn t h a t
w h i c h I s h o u l d probably k n o w i f I had been a l l owed to g row u p i n
t h e cou n t ry a n d a m ong m o re vital peo p l e , a n d that w h i c h a n
i m pe rso n a l a n d h asty s c h o o l fa i led to t e l l m e , a n d wh atever e l s e
h a s s i nce been fo u n d a n d recog n ized a n d belongs to i t . Not a rt
h i story a n d other h i stories, not t h e n a t u re of p h i losophic system s
do I w a n t to lea rn-! w a n t to be a l l owed to a cq u i re , to ach i eve

M mrm TO n TOUITG ron

only a few great and s i m p l e certa i nties, that a re there for a l l : I
want to be a l l owed to ask a few quest i o n s , questions such as c h i l ­
d ren a s k , i rrel eva nt to the outsider but fu l l o f a fa m i l y l i keness for
me who know thei r b i rt h and descent u nto the tenth generat i o n . "
He hoped i n t h i s way to ga i n a more certa i n grasp of any work
h e m ight undertake, to h ave resou rces that wou l d a lways stand
h i m i n good stead ; and to save h i mself from that "daily evidence
of my i n effi ciency, of that bei ng excl uded , w h i c h l i fe makes me
feel aga i n and aga i n , whenever I t ry to d raw near it at any poi n t . "
A t t h i s t i m e he w a s st i l l so acutely aware of n ot yet havi ng
done anyt h i ng i m porta nt, anyt h i n g demonstra b l e , that, alt hough
h e very we l l recogn ized the n ecessity of earn i n g where he cou l d
and the priv i l ege of b e i n g sponsored b y so fine a person , h e
looked " ( i n con fidence) with terro r" u p o n t h e efforts of h i s good
fri end El len Key to attract attention to h i s work. He fea red that i n
h e r ea rnestness a n d ent h u s i a s m , i n confusing h e r knowl edge of
h i m t h rough h i s letters with that w h i c h she had d rawn from what
she knew of his poem s , she wou ld make u n j usti fied c l a i m s and
give a n i m pression of fi n a l ity to his expression of ideas wh ich h i s
so-fa r p u b l i shed works did n o t possess. "And over a n d above a l l
t h i s I fee l : i f anyone needs secl u s i o n , it i s 1 . "

LETTER E I G HT

T hese efforts of E l l e n Key, h owever, brought h i m some "sympa­

thetic i nvitations in the N orth " and one of t h ese h e promptly
accepted , trave l i ng , when h e fi n a l l y left Rome in the month of
J u n e , 1 904, to Sweden via Cope n h age n . Borgeby gard , Flad ie, was
a great fa rm ing estate in the southern p rovi n ce of Ska n e . R i l ke

cnnonm 1 9o.H goo o5

had soon fo u n d out t h e w h o l e l o n g h i story of t h e o l d cast l e , a
tower of wh ich had been rebu i l t into l i v i n g q u a rters ; he e n j oyed
the gardens a n d the o rcha rds a n d ate with p l e a s u re a n d benefit
t h e i r veget a b l e s , fru its a n d berri es , served at a we l l -set table; h e
l oved t h e fields a n d t h e peace of past u r i n g c reatu res ( "we have
200 cows , " he w rote on t h e n i ght of h i s a rriva l ) , t h e h o rses , oxen ,
dogs ; fou n d enterta i n m e n t i n t h e wea k- j o i nted en deavors of a
new foa l to get a b o u t , a n d t h e l e a rn i n g of yo u n g sto rks to c l a pper;
took d e l i g h t in t h e g reat t rees of t h e park and the long we l l - kept
chest n ut-bordered d r i veways , in the w i n d s and the storms a s t h ey
passed over t h i s fert i l e l a n d . H i s letters a re fu l l of fee l i ng fo r t h e
p rod uctive l i fe a b o u t h i m a n d refl ect a conten t m e n t of s p i rit t h at
goes w i t h i t ; it was o n e of t h e m ost t ra n q u i l epi sodes of h i s l i fe .
N o wonder h e s p e n t t h e w h o l e s u m m e r h e re . H e w a s n o t cre­
atively occu p i e d : " S u m m e r was never my h i g h t i m e . " But h e read
and w rote l etters , taught h i m s e l f Da n i s h l a rgely by rea d i n g
Jacobsen a n d H e rma n n B a n g a n d t ra n s l a t i n g Soren K i erkega a rd's
l etters to his fi a n cee, made acq u a i n ta n ce w i t h Sca n d i n a v i a n l i ter­
atu re genera l ly, w h i l e i n ward l y h e fe l t h i m s e l f b u i l d i ng , p repa r i n g
somet h i n g i n v i s i b l e but fu n d a m e n ta l . H e del i berately t h o u g h t it
best to look u p o n t h i s t i m e rea l l y a s o n e of recrea t i o n and l i ve it
accord i n g ly, a l t h o u g h t h e o l d sense of not having ach i eved what
h e was b o u n d to do somet i mes creeps t h ro u g h : " I m i ss t h e glad­
ness , miss somet h i n g o r other t h a t I should have prev i o u s l y
d o n e . A p o i n t of depart u re , some evidence, t h e pass i n g of a test
in my own eyes . "
H e w rote to C l a ra o n t h e even i n g of J u ly 2 7t h : " . . . T h a n ks fo r
Kappus' l etter. He h a s a h a rd t i m e . And t h i s is o n l y t h e begi n n i n g
And h e i s right about i t : i n c h i l d h ood w e h ave used u p too m u ch

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strengt h , too much grown -people's strength ,-that may be true
for a whole generat i o n . Or true ove r and over aga i n fo r i n d ividu­
als. What s h a l l one say about it? That l i fe has u n e n d i ng possi b i l i ­
t i e s o f re newa L Yes , b u t t h i s too: that the u s i ng o f strength i n a
certain sense is always i ncrease of strength a l so; for fu ndamen­
tally we have to do only with a wide cycle: all strength that we
give away comes over us aga i n , experienced a n d a ltered . Thus it
is in prayer. And what is there , truly done. that is not prayer?
"And another t h i ng , with regard to the recreation idea . There
a re here , a m i d t h i s rea l m of fie l d s , spots of dark ploughed l a n d .
They a re em pty, and yet l i e they here as t h o u g h the bright cu l m s
ro u n d about t h e m were th ere fo r t h e i r sakes. rows o f fe ncing fo r
t h e i r protection . I asked what was doing with these dark acres.
They told me: c'est de I a terre en repos. So lovely, you see , can
rest be, and so it looks a l ongside work. N ot d i s q u i et i n g , but so
that one gathers a deep confide nce and the feel of a big t i m e .

LETTER N I N E

W
hen after t h i s prolonged sojourn h e went i n the a u t u m n to
visit ot her fri ends of E l l e n Key in t h e i r co u n t ry house near
Gtiteborg, he had st i l l not sett led to anyt h i ng that i n his own eyes
amou nted to a specific pi ece of work. T h i s does not mean that he
was ever idle. H e cont i n u a l l y wo rked , writ i ng l etters . a rticles,
book reviews, a lways fo l l owi n g to some exte nt the outl i nes of
study he had made for h i mself. Two visits to the Samsko l a . a
modern com m u n ity school for boys and g i r l s , made such a n
i m p ression u p o n h i m t h a t he wrote a n essay on it which he was

cmtamm 1 003- 1 ooo or

later a s ke d to read at t h e school a n d w h i c h h a d a w i d e i n fl u e n ce
w h e n it was soon a fterward p u b l i sh e d . He cared e n o u g h about i t
to con s i d e r w h e t h e r h e a n d h i s w i fe co u l d not sta rt s o m et h i ng of
t h e sort in N o rt h Germa ny, b u t dou bted whether they were the
right people to do it "with our s m a l l strength which s h o u l d not be
d iv i d e d . And I with m y g reat i g n o ra n ce and n ever havi n g learned
a nyth i n g ! B u t it w a s good fo r u s to s e e t h e Sa m s ko l a ; a n
e n co u ragement goes fo rt h fro m it i n fa r-rea c h i n g waves a s from a
fi n e . happy futu re that is s u re . " D u r i n g N ove m be r he fi n i s h ed t h e
Weisse Fi.irstin i n its fi n a l form .
He st i l l fostered t h e i dea of studyi ng somewhere : " S i nce I
ca n not a rrive fro m w i t h i n at t h e s o l u t i o n fo r work, it w i l l proba b l y
h a v e to c o m e from w i t h o u t . " H e n e e d s to open u p h i s w o r k to n e w
t r i b u t a r i e s ; not that h e lacks experi e n c i n g a n d l iv i n g b u t h e h a s
n ot t h e power to a rra nge, coo rd i nate: m u st learn to seize a n d
h o l d , m u st l ea r n to work. T h e n ot havi n g a c h i eved t h i s bot h e rs
h i m l i ke a bad co nscience. Sti l l , he senses a n adva n ce a n d h opes
that h e ca n now m a ke ce rta i n resolves to lead a m o re i n d u st r i o u s
a n d co n s c i o u s l i fe t h a n h e retofo re .
T h i s state of m i nd re m a i n s c h a ra cte ristic of h i m for s o m e
t i m e to co m e . w i t h t h e fl u ct u a t i o n s i nev i t a b l e to s u c h a tempera­
ment, s u c h a phys i q u e . Fo r t h e n ext fo u r yea rs . w h ich concern
this c h ro n i c l e only beca u s e at t h e i r exp i ra t i o n h e once m o re co m ­
m u n icated w i t h t h e Yo u n g Poet , R i l ke m oved a bout w i t h o u t a n y
fixed abode, m u c h a s we have seen h i m do w i t h i n t h e t i m e d i s ­
cussed a n d a s h e w a s t o do for most of h i s l i fe . T h i s co n d i t i o n o f
a ffa i rs often oppressed h i m : " I t costs so m uch e ffort a n d good w i l l
a n d i m a g i n a t i o n t o set u p a nyw h e re a n appeara n ce of fo u r wa l l s
o u t of t h e contents of a few t ru n ks , a n d I wo u l d l i ke s o m u c h to

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use what I have of such equ i pment d i rect ly for work, not on the
prepa ration for i t . " Obern e u l a n d and Worpswede, Capri , Berl i n ,
visits t o fri ends i n va rious parts o f Germany; lect u re tou rs i nclud­
ing Dresden and Prague, Vi enna and eve n Ven ice; and for the
most part Pa ris. He takes a grow i n g i n terest i n Ceza n n e ; he i s in
touch with Ham mershoj , Bo j e r, Verhaere n , von Hofm a n n st h a l ,
Stefa n Zweig; meets Be rnard Shaw, w h o comes t o pose for Rod i n ;
sees someth i ng o f Z u l oaga a n d Bourde l l e . Meanwh i l e he has
been add i ng poems to the Buch der Bilder fo r its second edition . In
Octobe r 1 907 the essay on Rod i n appea rs; a new vo l u me of verse ,
Neue Gedichte ( New Poems ) . about the same t i m e . He is now more
closely t h rown with Rod i n , even l iving i n a l ittle stone house i n
the ga rden a t Meudon a n d act i n g as " a sort o f secreta ry. "
The va lue of Rod i n 's example for R i l ke lay, as we have seen
before , in its showi ng h i m the poss i b i l ity of taking hold, of pers i st­
ing, i n bringing him fi n a l ly to rea l ize that he m u st and cou ld do
the same i n his own way, maki ng him eager to get at his own
labo rs aga i n . The very dom i n a nce of the perso n a l i ty w h i ch as a l iv­
ing precept taught h i m t h i s , made h i m restive, fu l l of des i re for a
yea r or two of h a rd work by h i m self. For be h i n d a l l h i s hesitations
and delays there was the pe rsevering w i l l that held him to his p u r­
pose . In May 1 906 a m i s u ndersta n d i ng ove r some s m a l l matter of
Rod i n's correspondence ca used a brea k in t h e i r re lations, w h i c h ,
h oweve r, w a s healed aga i n i n N ovember 1 90 7 . It greatly distressed
R i l ke , but in the l ight of h i s own development it fe l l perhaps as a
fort u n ate coi ncidence. Aware of the i rritab i l ity of the aging a rtist,
who had not been wel l j ust then , h e took a l a rge view of it from the
start, and it did not i n j u re the roots of the p rofound i n fl uence
Rod i n's way of worki ng and of l iving had h a d upon h i m .

cnitonm 1 oo3- t 9oo 09

 LETTER TEN

T o Rod i n , " m o n cher et s e u l Am i . " R i l ke w rote on Dece mber

29t h : " I a m a b l e m ore a n d more to m a ke u s e of that l o n g
pat i e n ce you h a v e taught m e by y o u r tenacious exa m p l e ; that
pati e n ce w h i ch , d i s proporti onate to ord i n a ry l i fe w h i c h seems to
bid u s haste, puts u s in touch with a l l that s u rpa sses u s . "
H e i s m a k i n g good u s e o f t h a t pat i e n ce . H i s t a s k i s t h e writ­
i n g of The Notebooks of Malte La u rids Brigge , "that d i fficu l t . d i ffi c u l t
book" w h i ch , d e s p i t e t h e i n tense effo rt a n d t h e mental a n g u i s h it
has cost h i m , h e i s now bringing t h ro u g h . It i s a good m o m e n t at
w h i c h to l eave h i m , ca l m e r, m ore con t e n t , beca use h e i s worki ng.

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