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“I would describe myself like a landscape I’ve studied at length.”6
Rilke considered these the core of his French poems.7 Beyond the tribute to France, Switzerland, and the French language, the “Quatrains” express the spiritual aspect of the landscape of the Valais that had received him so well, where his soul had found solace.
Well grounded in geography and history, this place “Instead of denying its nature, / . . . gives itself permission” to be itself, a land of natural paradox. In the interplay between light and shadow, soil and sun, there is dynamic alchemy that “will end up in the wine.” Indeed, man-made influence plays a seamless part in this landscape, especially the vineyards that produce “the cluster, the link / between us and the dead.” Stone towers and their bells, crumbling walls overgrown with hedges, even the villages themselves bless humanity with their teachings about memory and impermanence, embodying the essence of the earth, the same as any tree or stream.
I experience these poems like a Cezanne still-life, a study in contrast with corners of darkness worth exploring and occasional bursts of bright color, reminders of goodness. Unlike a still-life, there is movement everywhere, the “gorgeous momentum” of the artisan. Often the reader’s attention is directed upward, away from “this ardent land” to “climb toward a sky that nobly understands / its difficult past.” Much spaciousness is revealed in the emptiness of sky and wind that “takes brightness / from tall cornstalks. . . / rising to higher altitudes.” The marriage of solid earth with “all the youth of the sky” is the primordial source of creation in which artists of all time participate. In the sound of flowing water and the vineyards “in line,” Rilke saw space in language, the silence “between words / moving along in rhythm.”
Dramatic days of cloud-play lead to rest, as “evening settles / into infinite peace.” Did Rilke find some of that peace within himself? He wrote in a letter that the hills of the Valais seemed to have space around them and bring space with them, like a Rodin sculpture. “It is not only the loveliest landscape I have ever seen, but capable of reflecting one’s inner experience.”8