the day after Christmas, 1908
You must know, dear Mr. Kappus, how glad I was to have the lovely letter from you. The news that you give me, real and expressible as it now is again, seems to me good news, and the longer I thought it over, the more I felt that it was very good news indeed. That is really what I wanted to write you for Christmas Eve; but I have been variously and uninterruptedly living in my work this winter, and the ancient holiday arrived so quickly that I hardly had enough time to do the most necessary errands, much less to write.
But I have thought of you often during this holiday and imagined how silent you must be in your solitary fort among the empty hills, upon which those large southern winds fling themselves as if they wanted to devour them in large pieces.
It must be immense, this silence, in which sounds and movements have room, and if one thinks that along with all this the presence of the distant sea also resounds, perhaps as the innermost note in this prehistoric harmony, then one can only wish that you are trustingly and patiently letting the magnificent solitude work upon you, this solitude which can no longer be erased from your life; which, in everything that is in store for you to experience and to do, will act an anonymous influence, continuously and gently decisive, rather as the blood of our ancestors incessantly moves in us and combines with our own to form the unique, unrepeatable being that we are at every turning of our life.
Yes: I am glad you have that firm, sayable existence with you, that title, that uniform, that service, all that tangible and limited world, which in such surroundings, with such an isolated and not numerous body of men, takes on seriousness and necessity, and implies a vigilant application, above and beyond the frivolity and mere time passing of the military profession, and not only permits a self-reliant attentiveness but actually cultivates it. And to be in circumstances that are working upon us, that from time to time place us in front of great natural things - that is all we need.
Art too is just a way of living, and however one lives, one can, without knowing, prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it, more its neighbor, than in the unreal half-artistic professions, which, while they pretend to be close to art, in practice deny and attack the existence of all art - as, for example, all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called (and wants to be called) literature. I am glad, in a word, that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions, and are solitary and courageous, somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that.
Always
Yours,
R. M. Rilke
親愛的開普斯先生,您得知道,我在收到您的來(lái)信時(shí)有多高興。您給我?guī)?lái)的真實(shí)、生動(dòng)的消息對(duì)我來(lái)說(shuō)又是個(gè)好消息。我越想越覺得是這樣。因此我急不可待地想要在圣誕前夜寫信給您,但是我整個(gè)冬天一直在繁忙地工作,這冬日的假期來(lái)得這么快,以至于我都沒有足夠的時(shí)間做這最必要的事情了,寫作也很少。
但是我在假期里經(jīng)常想到您,想象著您怎樣在那空曠的山谷、孤寂的城堡里寂寞地生活,而南邊的風(fēng)肆虐著,似乎要把那些山巒撕成碎片。
這寂靜一定無(wú)邊無(wú)際,它把聲音和行動(dòng)都吞沒了,如果在這樣的寂寞中人們能夠想到遠(yuǎn)方的大海的回聲,或許在這有史以來(lái)的和諧里能夠深深地體會(huì)到這寂寞的真正滋味,然后就只希望您懷著信賴的心情耐心地讓美妙的孤獨(dú)在您身上做工,這孤獨(dú)不再?gòu)哪纳钪邢?它伴隨著您,無(wú)處不在;這孤獨(dú)對(duì)您施加的影響連您自己也難以察覺,它會(huì)不斷地、溫柔地起著決定性的作用,甚至象我們祖先的血液一樣不斷地在我們體內(nèi)流淌,成為我們的一部分,使我們變成這獨(dú)一無(wú)二的、無(wú)法替代的人,成為我們自己生活的主宰。
是的,我很高興看到您變得堅(jiān)定而有力了,那個(gè)稱號(hào),那套制服,那種服務(wù),所有有形和有限的世界,都在這樣的環(huán)境里,似乎與世隔絕,卻又有無(wú)數(shù)人在身邊,帶著莊重和重要的感覺,時(shí)刻警醒,沒有輕浮,時(shí)光在軍事生涯中流逝著,之后一個(gè)自信的您就出現(xiàn)了。您發(fā)現(xiàn)自己真地自信起來(lái)。融于環(huán)境,體味生活,時(shí)而感到自然的力量,那正是我們需要的。
藝術(shù)也是一種生活的道路,不管一個(gè)人怎樣活著,他能在無(wú)所知的情況下為其準(zhǔn)備;無(wú)論是什么事情,只要是真實(shí)地對(duì)待,就比較容易接近,遠(yuǎn)非那些非真實(shí)的半藝術(shù)行當(dāng)可比,當(dāng)那些人假裝接近藝術(shù)時(shí),他們已經(jīng)否定和攻擊了所有藝術(shù)的存在--好象那些,舉例來(lái)說(shuō)吧,所有的記者、幾乎所有批評(píng)家和四分之三的文學(xué)家(希望得到此稱呼的人)所做的事情。最后我想說(shuō),我很高興看到您已經(jīng)遠(yuǎn)離了從事這些職業(yè)的危險(xiǎn)。您在艱苦的現(xiàn)實(shí)面前獨(dú)立了,勇敢了起來(lái)。希望來(lái)年您能更加堅(jiān)強(qiáng)。
祝福您。
您的,
李爾克
巴黎