Wartime Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, 1914-1921

by M.D. Herter Norton, Rainer Maria Rilke

These literary letters give the account of Rainer Maria Rilke's own state of mind and of his final approach to the threshold of his great works. They show the rapid change he underwent after his reaction to the first excitement of The Great War; how his dismay at the cruelty and confusion of war helped to render the poet in him speechless for many years; how he nevertheless characteristically held to his own fundamental views throughout war and revolution and in spite of everything retained his belief in the capacity of humanity to create for itself a better future.

Genres: Nonfiction

288 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1964

About the author

Mary D. Herter Norton was an American publisher, violinist and translator. She used the name M.D. Herter Norton as a violinist and translator.

She founded the publishing company W. W. Norton & Company with her husband, William Warder Norton.

Reviews

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

It occured to me whilst reading this book that it's been many a year since I actually sat down with pen and paper and put my heart and soul into writing a letter, and it's sad to think that letter writing to a friend or relative these days is practically non-existent, why would we need to do it? with so many other easier ways to stay in touch. But there is something special and respectful, and utmost decent about putting in the time and effort to write an actual letter, especially to someone whose day might be brightened up as a result of it, and I'm happy in the knowledge that at least my grandparents generation and those before them thoroughly benefited from letter writing.

I forgot (because of his immense poetry) just how much of an accomplished writer of letters Rainer Maria Rilke was. He even makes the most basic of letters seem interesting. These letters, mostly written from Germany and Switzerland, show Rilke in a restless period during WW1, but he wasn't blinded or carried away by the war or post-war conflicts, and even in times of disorder and distress he retained a wisdom, a deep respect for humanity, and a strong belief in mankind shaping a better future. Some of the more notable things to mention from these letters was his love for Paris, his admiration for the poet Émile Verhaeren, and his close ties with the French sculptor Auguste Rodin, whose death in 1917 saddened him deeply. Some of the more moving letters were written to his wife Clara Westhoff, and folk back home in Austria.

Whether it's poetry or letters, what's not to like about reading him. Not just a great writer, but a great thinker too.

[Alex Obrigewitsch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rilke was certainly un homme de belles lettres - his epistolary remains bear the mark of a profound and poetic thought, speaking to the depths of a solitary and singular experience.

The years of the first world war struck Rilke deeply - less in a personal sense, and more so in his experience of the passion and loss that struck the world. The recession of the gods, the angel's absence, the demand for patience when death ruptured its relations with life, overwhelming and suffocating life like the gas wafting over the bitterly fought for lines on the battlefield...

Rilke suffered, alone, the loss which struck all in its anonymous irruption - the intractable force which bears away all power. Even the power to write. When the poetic had departed, having turned away, Rilke remained faithful, patiently bearing its absence and awaiting its return. He worked his experiences in solitary reflection and through the expression of a dialogue extended to others in letters. Weathering the storm whose windfall extended beyond the end of the war, his suffering in committed solitude was allowed to ripen, for death to transfigure itself once more through the living figure of the divine angel. The Elegies and the Sonnets - perhaps they needed this cataclysm of the world in order to lend power to the word. Who's to say? Tragedy has ever remained bound to the uncircumscribable ineluctability of fate...