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Translation of Ludwig Leichhardt's letter to his friend Mr J. Nicholson, Tubingen, Wurtembergdated Paris 25th January 1839, the original German letter being the property of the JohnsonianCub Brisbane.

Ernst MarwedelToowoomba June 11th 1887

(Courtesy, Queensland State Library)

My most valued friend

Since we have waited so long with pains for a letter from you, I begin to fear, that you perhapsnever received William's last letter. But since it was I who carried the letter to the post office, myfirst care is to know whether the letter really reached the good town Tubingen. Is it in your hands,all the better then, I will at least assist to shake the tree and try whether a small friendly note or along heavy letter drops down for us.

Let us be sincere, not unlike a pair of solitary/lonely/octopi------extend hopefully our feelers inorder to close them merryly----ever over a little prey from you. Let us therefore soon hear fromyou, since in your small (house) domestic and statelife, in the struggle for Gar, manydevelopments-----------------are promised by brightness. Mark was the last who sent us somenews from beyond the strait. He is in good health and fairly hopeful. Poor William is not quite sowell, he has been working here during the last 6 months like the --- chief of a German universityand since inclement weather, unfriendly, sent cold temperature and fire without warmth or heatcombine together, no wonder, if intellectual foggy days, dejection, depression and discomfortmake their appearance. Consider that a letter from you will do a good deal to clear this foggy sky.Like a pair of chilly dormice we sit stooping before a smouldering fire, not wood, a heap of ash asthough there is no post yet -

 Ardently we look forward to the spring like a dear bride full of plans to be developed in emulationwith young nature.

The Parisians are at present full of politics, the debates more in the reply to the address and abattle for life and death between the Ministry Mole and the Opposition.-

This was a coalition since the Doctrinaires (Guizot) the left (la gauche) the opposition propreOdilon Barrot and Thiers had united to overthrow the Ministry. They have carried the day, theopposition forces sing songs of victory, while those organs of the Ministry are in mourning. Youcan imagine, that such an event creates amongst the noisy Frenchmen unheard of excitement.The new Ministry is yet unknown.

Since the Picture Gallery in the Louvre is intended to be closed for from 3 to 4 months, we haveemployed the last fortnight, to inspect the most important pieces of the Dutch and Italian School.

We have at least discovered, that later on this will be a source of rich enjoyment for us and thatthe poetry of colors is intimately united with the poetry of words. Thus we attract gradually oneorb after the other, to observe it more seriously, in order to say with Goethe, to animate eachcircumference with a precise intuition and to say with Odysseus, to give speech to the shadows of the lower regions through blood, or to the shadowlike ideas, the children of the book and theparlour, through real natural impressions.

We have seen nothing of Captain Louis since William could hear at his hotel nothing about him,expect his being still at Nantes. May we later on at least meet him in Cuba.

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In Paris it is at present the fashion of lovers to commit suicide conjointly; mostly however arethose intentions only half carried out since fate is so gallant as to preserve the female half. Thusa young lover threw himself from the spire of Notre Dame, embracing his girl in order to drag her down, but she got hold of a pillar and saved herself. Another jumped in a like manner out of awindow, 62 feet high, the girl was likewise saved. Other cases ended less fortunate. But what

does all that say? The heartless Frenchmen do not love after all less sincerely than we Germans,still one ought to fancy that such attempt for death ought to presuppose strength of mind. I do notremember having heard during my time in Germany anything similar. That the lover or the girl killthemselves singly occurs often enough. They prefer death to the non satisfaction of their mostardent desire, but if this desire is fulfilled? Here everything is a matter of fashion, at one time theyselected suffocation by the fumes of charcoal.

I have visited several churches in order to ascertain their attendance. I found on weekdays insome churches a respectable number of old women and girls but only few men. Last Sunday Iwent to the Notre Dame attending the Great or chief Mass. The number of the really devout wasbut scanty. It is a singularly careless service, there is a coming and leaving, a staring andstanding that one has a difficulty to distinguish the curious from the pious. Young men or menwhose appearance would show some education are perhaps as scarce as white sparrows. It has

appeared to me, that servant girls, fresh from the country, attend for some time regularly in order to drawl the unintelligible Pater noster and Ave Marias. I went direct from the R. CatholicMetropolitan into the Protestant Church. It is not large but has a look of respectability, everyspace is occupied with chairs, which were filled quietly and when the service commenced anapple would hardly fall on the ground. There were almost more men than women and one couldsee at a glance, that they were people who thought about what they heard. The wholecongregation sang with the organ, the full tone brought back to my mind sweet recollections;however they sang too quick, almost without interludes, - the pastor told a sermon about one of the sayings of St. Paul, he spoke exceedingly beautiful, though for my part too declamatory butcorresponding with the vivacity of the Frenchmen. At the finish of the sermon there was moresinging. When leaving the church, I found that the whole street was filled with aristocraticcarriages. Thus the people of distinction were here the churchgoers. That was all right and good;still I could not free myself of an unpleasant thought. How, I thought, if attending the Pt. church isafter all merely a matter of fashion, senseless, soulless fashion on the cold barren soil of whicheven the freshest plumpest seed ----- go to destruction. - I do not know it!

Now comes the burden (refrain) of my song, the A and the O. Please write soon. Make mine andWilliams compliments two fold to your dear wife and the young ladies and keep in goodremembrance.

Your sincere friendLudwig Leichhardt