Dear Marion,

Margrit telephoned about an hour ago. she and Sandy have found
a motel in the vicinity of Toledo OH, from where its only an
hour or two to Detroit. It looks as if Margrit has done it again.
Russell Kirby, whom Margrit had originally requisitioned as a
driver, apparently got cold feet, and recruited Sandy to replace
him. Sandy is an adventuresome single mother, eager to
get away from it all, who has served in the army as an automobile
mechanic and should be able to get Margrit to Detroit better than
anyone else. The Konnarock oil burner was functioning, but Margrit
did not bother to warm the house. She apparently did very little
packing and took off.

About freedom of the will and guilt I've expostulated at length
in Das siebte Kapitel translated as Chapter Seven, both accessible
on the Internet. It's rude of me to refer you to what you've just
read; I know you find my account hard to believe, and I'll go over
it again, but maybe in another letter, not just now.

My grandson Nathaniel has asked my help with an essay for his 
philosophy course.
"Compare Plato's theory of knowledge as he sets it out in 
Book V of the Republic with Epicurus' theory of knowledge.
Consider what the objects of knowledge are,
and what the source(s) of objectivity of knowledge are
in each theory.
Evaluate the theories on the basis of your comparison."

This topic is of much interest to me; I've been working on
it all day, but it's taking longer than I had expected.

About Hoelderlin: The focal experience in Hoelderlin's
life was his adulterous liaison with Susette Gontard,
the unhappy wife of a Frankfurt businessman whose sons
Hoelderlin was hired to tutor, and in whose house he
lived for some months until the illicit relationship
was discovered. The Hoelderlin had to leave, and this
poem is an account of his experience (Erleben).

Der Abschied

Trennen wollten wir uns? wähnten es gut und klug?
Da wirs taten, warum schreckte, wie Mord, die Tat?
Ach! wir kennen uns wenig,
Denn es waltet ein Gott in uns.

Den verraten? ach ihn, welcher uns alles erst,
Sinn und Leben erschuf, ihn, den beseelenden
Schutzgott unserer Liebe,
Dies, dies Eine vermag ich nicht.

Aber anderen Fehl denket der Menschen Sinn,
Andern ehernen Dienst übt er und anders Recht,
Und es listet die Seele
Tag für Tag der Gebrauch uns ab.

(Having said that separation was like murder
and that he could never betray the divinity within him,
Hoelderlin bows to reality in this third stanza)

But the mind of men has a different command
Exercises a different steely discipline, and different law,
And day by day custom snatches
from us our souls.

Wohl! ich wußt' es zuvor. Seit der gewurzelte
Allentzweinde Hass Götter und Menschen trennt,
Muß, mit Blut sie zu sühnen,
Muß der Liebenden Herz vergehn.

Laß mich schweigen! o laß nimmer von nun an mich
Dieses Tödliche sehn, daß ich im Frieden doch
Hin ins Einsame ziehe,
Und noch unser der Abschied sei!

Reich die Schale mir selbst, daß ich des rettenden
Heilgen Giftes genug, daß ich des Lethetranks
Mit dir trinke, daß alles
Haß und Liebe vergessen sei!

Hingehn will ich. Vielleicht seh' ich in langer Zeit
Diotima! dich hier. Aber verblutet ist
Dann das Sehnen und friedlich
Gleich den Seligen fremd sind wir.

Und ein Gespräch führet uns ab und auf,
Sinnend, zögernd, doch itzt mahnt die Vergessenen
Hier die Stelle des Abschieds,
Es erwarmet ein Herz in uns,

Staunend seh' ich dich an, Stimmen und süßen Sang,
Wie aus voriger Zeit hör' ich und Saitenspiel,
Und die Lilie duftet
Golden über dem Bach uns auf.

Stanzas 6 7 and 8 are fantasies of reunion
in an Elysian landscape

I will go. Perhaps I will see you here, Diotima
a long time hence. But by then desire
will be exsanguinated, and peaceful,
like the blessed ones we shall be.

(Diotima was Hoelderlins nickname for Susette.
Diotima is the goddess of love who is the after-dinner
speaker in Plato's Symposion (Banquet) dialogue.
Hoelderlin fantasized the Blessed ones to be at peace.
(Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine)

Calm conversation leads us back and forth,
pensive and halting, until now (itzt) the place
of our parting reminds the forgetful ones.
A heart within us grows warm.

In amazement I gaze on you. Voices and sweet song
As from former times I hear, and the music of strings,
and above the brook rises
the fragrance of a golden lily.

The last two lines are a mystical incantation.
There is an alternate ending, whcih I prefer:

"Und befreiet in Luefte, fliegt
In Flammen der Geist uns auf."

And freed into the air,
the spirit flies up in flames.

Lines that remind me of Ariel at the end of the Tempest.

Jochen