THE UNIQUE ONE

unfinished fragments

Version One

(Autumn 1802 ?)

  

  What is it, then, so binds me

To those ancient happy shores,

That I should love them

More than my own home?

Indeed, I’m like a slave

Sold into heaven, there,

Where once Apollo walked

In regal pomp, and where

The old divine seducer, Zeus

Cavorted with the fresh-faced

Mothers of his mortal

Sons and daughters.

  

  Wonder, truly, seizes me

To see such works

Of magnanimity,

Displays of genius,

On every side! In fabled Elis

And Olympia

I’ve stood; and high

Upon Parnassos. I’ve surveyed

The isthmus, there.

Then, over on the other side,

By Smyrna too I’ve walked,

And down through Ephesos.

  

  I’ve seen the beauty

Of that land! And sung it;

Sung the showing-forth of

What’s divine, within the life

Of humankind.

Yet, still,

You antique deities

And glorious demi-gods,

There’s one I love but cannot trace.

Namely: the youngest of you all.

Whom you’ve concealed,

Your house’s treasured gem, from me,

As from an unfamiliar guest.

  

  My lord!

My teacher, why?

Why did you keep

Away? Why, when I asked

Amongst the ancient ones,

Did you disdain

My quest?

And why, Olympian spirits, why

Are you, as well, apparently

So eager to insist

That it’s a simple choice

Of either / or?

  

  Yet well I know, O Christ! that I’m

To blame. Because I cling

Too tight to you. Although you’re

Brother to the mighty Herkules,

And, boldly I’ll confess,

To Dionysos, too.

Who harnessed tigers

To his chariot, and roamed

As far as to the Indus

With that epiphanic gang of his;

The vineyard-god

And Prince of Peace. I’m told that it’s a shame

To group you

With such worldly types.

Indeed, I know that your own Father,

Who

  

[…]

  

  For, this is no dictatorship

  

[…]

  

  My love, however, clings to One

Alone. And all too much. This time

The song’s been too impulsive,

Self-indulgent. It’s a sin

For which I’ll make amends

In songs to come.

But even though I never

Hit the mark, I’m sure

That any god would understand.

For, just as, once, the Master

Beat against the bars, himself,

An eagle caged,

  

  And many who

Beheld him were appalled –

And, even though the Father

Strove with all his might to do

Whatever could be done for us,

Yet he, the Son, before

At length he rose into the skies,

Was mightily distressed – so too,

Wherever inspiration stirs, one finds the same:

This world is made a trap, to which, as

Dissidents, we poets must adapt.

  

  

  I know of no other case in Christian literature of an author quite seriously reproaching himself for being too devoted to Christ alone, as Hölderlin does in these fragments! Here we have a truly radical expression of early nineteenth century religious liberalism. There are three versions. This is a poem which Hölderlin clearly wrestled with; but eventually found himself unable to complete.

  Strophe 2 : Elis was the city, in the Peloponnese, the territory of which included Olympia, site of the Olympic Games. The isthmus in question is the one which links the Peloponnese to the rest of Greece. Smyrna and Ephesos were major Greek cities across the Aegean. Hölderlin had only visited these places in his imagination.

  Strophe 5: for the affinity of Christ to Dionysos, c.f. Bread and Wine in particular. Version 1 alludes to the basic myth of Dionysos: he is regularly portrayed in a chariot pulled by tigers, or lions. There was a legend that when Alexander the Great reached the Indus valley with his conquering armies, and entered the city of Nysa, the local inhabitants informed him that their city had been founded by Dionysos, and was still dedicated to him.