Moreton Bay District, 27 August 1843

My dearest mother,

Your wandering son has still not yet found a place for settling down, but roams across forests and plains, mountains and valleys, sleeping next to a warm fire beneath the clear sky wrapped in his woolen blanket one day, in the hut of a hospitable settler the next—indeed occasionally sharing the blanket of a transported convict, whose present hospitality makes me forget his past sins. After I had lived in Moreton Bay for a while and investigated the vegetation that covers the shores of the rivers and streams there, I took two horses—my family has by now been enlarged by a young mare—to a lesser-known region, customarily known as the Bunya Bunya district. You see, there’s a huge tree [with this name] that grows among the bushes that cover the ridges of the mountains; it is much like the fir tree of Germany and has large cones which contain harbor floury, sweet kernels between their scales and are highly valued by the blacks. According to the natives, this tree yields a harvest every 3 years and on this occasion clans arrive from near and far to gorge themselves on the nourishing Bunya kernels for approximately 3 months. At that time the men fight it out here, while the women go out to gather the fruits, and many a black man does not return to his home alive. His relatives, meanwhile, consume their slain brother, clean his bones—his thighs, arms, and skull—which the women then carry with them in small nets. Some tribes hold the curious belief that the power of the slain man passes on to whomever eats him and renders the latter twice as powerful. There is not a trace of doubt that this consumption of human flesh occurs; men, such as the missionaries who have spent long years living among the savages, have witnessed it. There is no hope of converting the present generation to Christianity and this generation will most likely be the last one, since the blacks are rapidly dying out wherever they come into contact with whites.

Then again, these black children of the bush are rather interesting creatures in many respects. They are certainly not lacking in intelligence. They seized the slightest advantages offered them by nature, and in terms of subsistence practices their discoveries are as abundant as our own, having learned to turn wheat and rye into bread, raise vegetables, catch fish, shoot game, rob bees of their honey, and use certain plants as medicinal remedies. — At the same time, they are superstitious, believe in ghosts, have dark conceptions about certain deities and some of these conceptions are rather peculiar. Indeed, it appears that their nightly dances, during which they paint stripes of white clay on themselves, are often performed for purposes of worshipping their deities or appeasing their anger. — They treat their women akin to slaves and pack animals and the poor creatures have to search out roots for their indolent men, have to carry the children, and the nets in which they transport their belongings. Every clan controls a certain district. They roam it continually to find sufficient food. At times the whole clan is gathered together, at other times they are scattered into groups of 2, 3, or 4. They construct their huts, or humpies, as they are called here, out of sticks and tree bark, since the barks of many trees can be stripped easily. Along the coast the men are commonly larger, here they are smaller, yet stocky and well-nourished. Almost every clan has its own language; frequently even among families there are a lot of varying words; yet even unacquainted clans manage to communicate with one another easily. — In general, these people are treacherous and one has to be cautious around them, even if they claim to be friendly. In Wide Bay they murdered 5 shepherds just before my arrival and here on Mr. Archer’s station they attempted to skewer a shepherd with their spears, yet fortunately he only sustained a superficial shoulder wound. — It is natural that the whites then seek revenge and that many a black loses his life. An inadequate police force seems to be the main problem. It is very difficult to convey an accurate picture of this disparity to you. To me, the

government appears to act erroneously in so many instances that it would be hard to determine what the primary mistake actually is. For the most part the whites employed at the various stations are transported convicts, almost without exception or with few exceptions unmarried, devoid of any moral principles or feelings. These men often engage in relations with the black women, who naturally stick close to the huts where they find good, ample food whereas they quite often suffer hunger in the bush. The black men, although not that strict with their women if only they receive tobacco and food, do not wish to lose their women completely and so their mood begins to sour, they utter threats, and finally seek revenge. They do this by either killing cattle or sheep, or by attacking white men outright whenever they can get them in their control. You may ask why the owners of the herds of cattle and sheep employ the services of such bad, amoral persons? The answer is: on the one hand the free settlers do not have enough experience to make themselves useful, on the other hand they lack the courage to migrate hundreds of miles inland, either alone or with wife and child, to make a living as a shepherd or cowherd there. Transported convicts, who are called “old hands” here, were forced to do so, lived in the same place for long periods of time, and thereby acquired a lot of experience. It is incredible what all such a man knows how to do. He is shepherd, cowboy, builder, sawyer, woodcutter, carpenter, blacksmith; he is knowledgeable about illnesses afflicting horses and sheep, knows how to bake bread, how to cook, how to sew —in short, all matters that life in the bush requires. At the same time he possesses extraordinary stamina, can march long distances and ride for hundreds of miles at a time. — In this regard life in the bush is highly educational; a man comes to appreciate his own strength and I have gathered a lot of experience in

this respect, since I am at present quite a decent bushman.

Since my means for travel are gradually diminishing, I will soon have to seriously consider steady employment, because I do not want to leave Australia before I have traveled all across it. I received several proposals, though I have not yet come to a decision. I have seen almost the entire northern part of the colony and hope to visit the southern part next year. From Moreton Bay I will soon return to New England, the Hunter and Sydney, where I hope to arrive within 3 months; my headway is all but painstaking because my travels progress so slowly, and because I have so much to see and to seek. I saw German missionaries at Moreton Bay, some of whom come from Berlin and Pomerania. I almost believed myself at home again when I partook in their German worship service. There are 7 families, 2 ministers, and by now the whole congregation calls 22 small children their own, who are possibly better behaved than any other children in the colony. They were supported by the government in the past; at present they make a living by gardening until their further fate has been decided. They were useful insofar as they treated the blacks with humanity and kindness and thus rendered them friendly toward the settlers. Yet as concerns education and Christianity they were unfortunately unable to accomplish much. Catholic missionaries arrived here a few months ago. I do not know whether the formal worship service of the Catholics will be better suited to keep the blacks in one place and to direct their attention to matters of the mind and of God, away from mere physical needs. There would be some hope if, as a matter of routine, the children would be taken away from their clan and educated far away. Yet the English government regards this as an infringement on the rights of British subjects, which it considers the savages to be—and thusly this hope for future success is dwindling as well. —

I hope that you have received my letters; I only have one of yours and I am asking you to write to me by way of William. Farewell, all of you, and please keep me in your hearts and minds, especially you, my dear mother,

Most affectionately, your loving son,
Ludwig Leichhardt

Darling Downs, 22 February 1848

My dearest brother-in-law,

Four months have passed since I informed you about my return from Peak Range. I have used this time to make preparations for a new expedition, and in a few days will be once more ready to penetrate Australia’s interior, and, if God grants me the strength, to cross the entire continent. I have made an effort to find good, valiant men and believe that Classen will be well-suited to my endeavor, although a land expedition differs significantly from even the most trying of sea voyages. Another friend, Mr. Hentig, has also joined me. I have hired two workmen and will take two blacks along, one of whom accompanied me on my last journey. The entire company is thus comprised of 7 men and I hope that this number will prove entirely sufficient. At present I am in possession of 20 mules, 7 horses, and 50 bullocks, 20 of which were a gift from Mr. Robinson and 30 of which were gifted to me by the government. I told you that a Mr. Kennedy had been sent by the government to follow the Victoria River to its mouth, which Sir Thomas Mitchell had seen but not completely explored on his expedition. Mr. Kennedy has returned and has determined that the river turns southward and loses itself in Sturt’s desert, and that it is probably identical with “Coopers Creek,” which Captain Sturt mentions in his expedition [account]. I am therefore once again alone in the field and think that I can solve a great number of interesting questions if I only succeed in bypassing the northern tip of the desert.

I left Sydney in December, after I had made all my purchases. A trip to the Hunter River, where I went to visit several friends, delayed me by about a week. I then traveled to Captain King in Port Stephens in order to repeat a few earlier observations using my thermometer to determine the elevation above sea level; after that I bought 6 fresh mules and traveled through New England, where I picked up 20 bullocks, to my present location, the hospitable abode of Mr. Fr. Bracker, a master sheep farmer from Mecklenburg. I had scarcely gotten under shelter when the heavy rains commenced that are characteristic in this part of the colony from the end of January and through February. The colony had been suffering immensely from drought, and the sudden cold showers,

which rained down on New England’s freshly shorn flocks of sheep, standing utterly exposed to the night air, caused more damage than even the drought had. 100,000 sheep are said to have perished across the colony while the rains lasted. I myself witnessed the death of 800 in one night, when an entire flock of 1000 head sought shelter in stables and houses and feared neither the threats of people nor the dogs. As soon as the rain ended, and during the rains as well, all of nature, which had appeared almost dead to our eyes, tired of the monotonous yellow of withered vegetation, came to life, and the loveliest, sunny green enveloped the open forests and treeless pasture lands. This switch from an almost complete cessation of plant growth, from a desolate paralysis of nature, to the most luscious vegetation and an omnipresent, teeming world of insects reminds the eyewitness of Humboldt’s description of savannahs at the beginning of the rainy season.

As soon as the heaviest rains had passed and streams and rivers had become passable again I began to consolidate all of my possessions, which had been scattered almost across the entire Darling Downs, at Mr. Bracker’s in Rosenthal. I also had to look for such people as I wanted to take along with me. This is how I have spent my time for the last four weeks—almost constantly in the saddle and frequently dead tired. My provisions are likely to arrive here tomorrow or the day after, and this would allow me to set out next Monday, 28 February. I have had the pleasure to learn that the geographical society in London has awarded me one of their medals and that the geographical society in Paris has bestowed a similar honor upon me. I am of course delighted that such astute men deem me worthy of such an honor, yet I have never striven for honor but rather worked on behalf of science and science alone, and will continue to do so even if not one person in the world were to pay any attention to me. I am afraid to lose God’s blessing should I let my vanity take over and should the sincere, calm, painstaking quest for scientific knowledge become mixed up with ambitious striving for fame and recognition.

Mr. Durando of Paris writes that he has successfully received the scanty remains of my botanical collection and that Mr. Decaisne is

busy examining it. Even if my dried plants should not be suitable for determining new species, they should nevertheless prove interesting and useful for the botanical geography of New Holland. I have been very unfortunate with regard to my seeds, since none of the local institutions are suitable for growing and raising tropical plants. You might perhaps wonder why I did not send these collections to one of our German museums? The answer is that I conducted my studies of natural history primarily in English and French museums, and that I did not cultivate friendly relations with any of my compatriots during my youth, which would have obliged me to consider my friends first. Durando was a botanist and a very dear friend of mine. His circumstances were dire; I wanted to provide him with an opportunity to distinguish himself should my collection actually be of some value. This friendly tie to Durando compelled me to send the collection to him instead of sending it to a famous English or German botanist. Durando, however, has neither time nor confidence enough to undertake this project and has therefore given the collection to Mr. Descaisne [sic], who was always quite cordial and accommodating in his behavior toward me.

It was also quite a happy coincidence that I got to see my journal and my maps before departing. The maps are very nice and I am deeply indebted to Mr. Arrowsmith for transforming my rough sketches so beautifully. I will let others pass judgment on my book; it is a simple tale about our expedition and an equally simple description of the areas and things that I saw. If only the traveler is truthful, the scholar at home will thank him. He can never render a minor natural environment impressive and cannot describe the moderate mountain ranges of Australia as though they were the monumental ranges of America. I did not write intending to evoke maximum effect, and hardly thought it worth my while to employ the glowing language of a poetic huntsman to describe hunting kangaroos or emus. The public appears favorably inclined toward the book. At least it has been favorably reviewed in the papers. I would very much like to correct several very unfortunate typographical errors, and should Franciska truly intend to translate it, she would do well to contact Mr. Boone in London, to whom I intend to send

a list of these errors. —

The governor of the colony, Sir Charles FitzRoy, has always been favorably inclined toward my endeavor, and made me a present of 30 bullocks without me even requesting them. The unhappy man lost his wife through a most heartbreaking accident. He loves to take the reins of his horses when going out for a drive and it is said that he is very skilled. The family lived in Paramatta, about 3 German miles from Sydney, and the governor used to come to Sydney once a week, which he usually did in a small coach drawn by 4 horses, accompanied by his son and one servant. About 3 months ago, shortly after I had left Sydney, he drove to a wedding, along with his wife and secretary. The horses bolted on him, the coach tipped over, and Lady Mary and the secretary (Lieutenant Masters) sustained such severe injuries that both died the very same day. Lady Mary was very popular and the entire colony was in mourning. He blames himself for causing this tragedy and at present lives a very secluded life.

Although I most certainly feel strong enough to embark on this new, long expedition, I cannot, however, deny that my constitution has been seriously weakened, particularly on my latest expedition, and that I now have much less muscle strength than I did 4 years ago, when I embarked on my first long journey. In particular, I am suffering from heart palpitations, which frequently cause me quite a bit of worry.

I hope that my letter finds you all in the best of health and that my dear, beloved mother will stay with us for quite a long time yet. For if I return from my expedition alive and in good health, I intend to come to Europe for two years and to pay all of you a very long visit.

Faith thou needest, and must dare
Or the gods withhold their hand
Nought but miracle can bear
Man into the wonderland (I should say rather mother land!)

I wish I could take one of my two blacks home with me. He is a most useful and yet docile lad and not at all as wild as the black who came along on my first expedition. He is called Jimmy or Wommai or Kilalli. The other one is less useful. Yet both possess extremely sharp eyesight, which makes them of excellent use to me.

Claßen will probably write to Herrmann. I have so much yet to write that I will scarcely find time to do so myself. Farewell, my dearest brother-in-law and my sister, convey my greetings to dear mother and our entire family,

Most affectionately, your loving brother-in-law and brother
Ludwig Leichhardt

Sydney, 21 October 1847

I had scarcely finished my letter when Mr. Holt arrived and called a boy carrying an enormous portfolio into my room. He said: “I received this portfolio from a business partner in Cottbus, whose address will tell you the rest.” I read the address and recognized your dear name. I opened it at once, searched for a letter among the newspapers and religious literature, and rejoiced at seeing your letter and the picture of dear mother. Unfortunately the glass of the picture frame had shattered and damaged the picture itself a little. Everyone who beheld it said they had never seen a better daguerreotype, and Mr. Lynd opined I only had to don a bonnet and shave my beard and I would resemble it completely. I thank you, my dear brother-in-law. You have given me great, great pleasure! You will by now also have learned from my letters that the picture of my blessed father arrived here in one piece, was framed, and is hanging beside the one of my friend Nicholson. What can I tell you with regards to your gracious efforts to secure the king’s clemency on my behalf? It is a comforting feeling to be at peace with my native country, to be able return to it without impediments, to be able to see my family again, even if fate had decided that my wishes in this regard will never come true. This possibility is what a free man values so dearly. I am completely satisfied with the cabinet’s decree; I even willingly accede to the stipulation; it was necessary for the king to uphold the appearance of consistency. What the government deemed necessary to deny the unknown petitioner it now does not want to grant the newly famous man; because if the request had been right, [the government] would not have denied him it originally. I was not displeased with the institution of universal military service; I was displeased that the government did not think it had the power to grant exceptions in special cases. When William left Berlin the question arose whether I was to best serve my country and to serve science by receiving a thorough education in Europe’s biggest museums and by traveling to faraway corners of the globe, or whether I should spend a year learning how to exercise on the Köpenick parade grounds. The government decided on the latter, I on the former. I was in the wrong, because I followed my calling and violated the law—a law that is a dead, unchangeable power—not law moderated by a free-thinking ruler. But enough about that! I have often enough worked myself into a rage speaking on this topic and believe me when I tell you that the English were more inclined toward fanning the flame than extinguishing it. As the thought of

once again belonging to my native country calms my mind, an unbidden feeling of pride arises about the fact that I owe my happiness to the example of men whose deeds appeared like fairy tales to the boy, filled the youth with enthusiasm, and finally called on him to pursue a similar path. How often did the soaring adventures of Prince Pückler sweep me away and fill my breast with longing for blue faraway lands, which he sought out free and unhampered, quickly grasping and truthfully and pleasantly rendering all of the highlights and important characteristics of the lands and peoples he encountered. And Humboldt? His example will always serve as my guiding principle. I strive to be like him, but I feel that my means are still too limited to truly emulate him. By him I mean the wanderer through America, not the great, serene researcher who is now so admirably managing the success of his youth. — The difficulties I have on my expeditions are due to the amount of time that I spend away from the inhabited part of the colony, away from any possible support. I am forced to limit the number of my companions, as well as my provisions, as much as possible. I myself have to do physical labor and usually the hard work falls to me. In a tropical climate, our way of doing things causes our limbs, especially our feet, to grow very tired, and when the day’s work has been accomplished and we have made camp it requires a great deal of energy to overcome this tiredness and to make scientific observations. Whenever we stray from the vicinity of the rivers, I am forced to ride 30–50 miles ahead to find water, while the rest of the group, with the exception of one black man, who I take along, remains at camp. Then it is also extremely difficult to ensure order and obedience among my companions. Open defiance causes little harm, since my cause and my motives are just, and I am soon able to convince them, or at least the others, of their folly. Yet if they act secretly and insidiously, they are able to poison the entire camp and to frustrate all of my plans. I believe this to have been the case during my last, failed endeavor. A single “Sauve qui peut” is able to cause even those with a strong determination to falter.

I read your news about our family and about the vital happenings in state and church with the greatest interest. Much is expected of the Prussian constitution. Everyone is curious to see how freedom will develop among a people that is generally acknowledged to be the best-educated one. How will its ideas of liberty manifest themselves and how will its heads-of-state respond to the exuberance of this youthful freedom?

The Prussian is well-educated, but not in political matters; he still has much hard learning before him. Worthy representatives of the people’s interests, calm discussions, clear, powerful public speeches, a government willing to listen to the people’s representatives without prejudice, and preparedness to act according to the emergent will of the people rather than pursuing the interests of the few—these are all fruits of a plant that matures only slowly. —

I would willingly sign the profession of faith proposed by the German Catholics . The simple “I believe in Jesus Christ our Savior” utterly suffices; but I do not yet understand the value of believing in a universal Catholic Church! Is it that one sole universal church will be recognized across the entire globe? This would be desirable. Many of the sermons are extremely powerful and are a credit to both the German language and to the men who deliver them.

Yet why did you not tell me anything about the state of German poetry? Have all the German poets gone to sleep? Does the present time not lend itself to poetic expression? We were brought up on the idea that great times bring forth great poets and I cannot help but think that we live during great times. After three years of living in the wilderness I have re-read Schiller’s poems. What a magnificent, noble language! What noble feelings lived in the breast of this marvelous man! Music has never left as deep an impression on me as it did during my sea voyage from England to Sydney. It was a fierce night and the sea was quietly roaring beneath the keel of the steadily advancing ship. I had been listening to the muddled din for a long time when I suddenly got up and went to the cabin of my travel companion, Mr. Marsh, who was a great master harpist and who was improvising on this instrument when I entered. The orderly sounds, after the chaotic, dark roar of the wind and the waves, were so intense and pleasurable that they brought tears to my eyes. A similar feeling overcame me when I read Schiller again. How exceedingly true are the words of this visionary even though he himself never experienced this situation:

And as, after heartbreaking pain
And separation’s bitter smart
The child repentant seeks again
Upon his mother’s breast relief:
So to the thoughts of early days
When innocence was yet unstained
From foreign lands and foreign ways
Song brings the wanderer home, regained —

As regards the publication of my letters I only wish to tell you the following: I am of course pleased that educated men, not just the consideration and greater interest of a friend, deem them worthy of publication. Yet there are things I write to which I would not wish to see appear in print, especially as concerns the behavior of my travel companions. If I remember correctly, I complained bitterly about Gilbert, who was killed in my first expedition. I was completely justified in so doing, and if he had behaved as he did toward me as part of an official government-sponsored expedition, then he would have incurred severe punishment, as the example of Sir Thomas Mitchell’s latest expedition shows. I also shared my complaints with Mr. Gould, who had sent him; but Gilbert is dead and it would not please me if my complaints were to harm the memory of a very energetic traveler and collector who behaved valiantly in all other respects. —

You mentioned some nonsense about the possibly of me getting married, and that my dear niece Franciska is very excited about it! How did you hear of this? It is true that I loved a girl and that I even believed that she was not disinclined toward me. I did not talk to her about this matter, since I deemed it unsuitable to think of marriage when I was about to embark on a dangerous journey; yet I hoped that she, since she was still very young, would perhaps be willing to receive me after my return. This lovely girl is presently engaged and will be married in 2 months. Sic transit gloria mundi! Your poor brother-in-law would most likely despair and drown himself at once if thoughts of expeditions would not so completely fill his mind. I am afraid that my travels will take me beyond the age at which one wishes to marry and at which happy marriages are forged, and if my heart, in cold, proud composure closes itself off to love, then I shall have to face eternity alone. — —

written to Hermann about the possibility of finding a position in business for Karl Barth here. It would hardly be worth the trouble for him to come to Sydney for this. As a vintner or sheep farmer he would soon enough find a place and I believe that it would be most advisable to familiarize your son with these two branches should he ever feel the inclination to come live with his Uncle Ludwig in Australia. If it is at all in your power, make your children study chemistry; this science will prove useful to them under any circumstance. Cheer up Adolph! Don’t let him despair! As soon as I can be of assistance, I will help out, yet this promise does not mean that he can take it easy. I am sorry to hear that he has sold father’s house. Had I been able to sell the rights to my book for a lump sum, then I would have instructed William to assist Adolph; yet because this was not the case I do not know how much I income I will derive from the book.

Once again, adieu.

Camden/Sydney, 20 October 1847
At the house of William Macarthur

My dearest brother-in-law,

I have once more returned from my expedition, yet not victorious with flying banners, bathing in the jubilations of the people, but on account of exhaustion from disease and due to malcontent companions I was forced to return and to lead my companions back to the fleshpots of Egypt before I ever even had the chance to penetrate unknown areas. The reasons for this failure are more or less as follows: the young men that I had taken along with me were from Sydney; they were used to a soft, comfortable city existence but not the hard life in the bush; their bodies lacked the elasticity that allows someone to recover quickly even after having fallen ill, and their minds lacked the contentedness and flexibility that allows one to focus entirely on the present instead looking longingly into the future or back to the lost pleasures of city life. They were interested in nothing but purely pecuniary and mundane considerations: they hoped to receive government posts and obtain money from the people after completing the expedition. They had witnessed the welcome that we had received upon our return from Port Essington and thought they would be able to win similar laurels without difficulty. As soon as the hardships of the journey became apparent, their conviction was shaken, and instead of remembering their former words of gratitude they came to see me as a harsh master who they had a right to weaken by way of harassment and intrigues.

On my first expedition I brought along only bullocks, which I used for carrying our baggage and which I slaughtered whenever we were in need of meat. From the start we had to make do with very limited daily rations and subsisted almost exclusively on dried beef. We consequently developed a big appetite and our stomachs remained healthy. On my latest expedition I used mules for carrying our packs; for purposes of slaughtering I brought along 38 bullocks as well as 290 goats and 108 sheep, which I intended to slaughter ahead of the bullocks. The sheep were very fat and we slaughtered one almost every day, which was shared among 9 men. Moreover, we ate few flour-based dishes and had no vegetables that could have balanced out the fresh meat.

As a consequence of this diet of fresh, fat meat, our stomachs were frequently upset and our bodies more prone to infection. When the rainy season started, we traveled alongside flooded river banks for long stretches of time, slept on damp grounds every night, and a swollen river that we needed to cross finally forced us to remain in one spot for three weeks. Over the past year the entire colony has been abnormally wet and tertian fever occurred in places where it had hardly ever been known before. When we were finally able to cross the Mackenzie this disease had weakened my companions to such an extent that we had to rest on the opposite bank for another three weeks, until I finally tried to push onwards forcibly, which resulted in us covering a further distance of about 70 miles. My companions now became disgruntled; they were unwilling to exert even the smallest effort to assist me and one of my blacks, or, if they did anything at all, they did it badly and did more damage than good. Thus we lost our goats, our bullocks, and in the end even some of our mules and horses, and a hasty retreat was our only salvation. The fever had not caused me much suffering, yet on the return journey I was seized by rheumatism in my fingers, hands, elbow, back, and knees, and was so helpless that I was scarcely able to mount and dismount my horse. However, after I had spent about 14 days resting at Mr. Russel’s station in the Darling Downs, I felt strong enough to attempt a different expedition of about 5–600 miles, in order to determine the course of a river (the Condamine), and to explore the area that lay between my own path and Sir Thomas Mitchell’s. It took me about six weeks to complete this expedition and I completely recovered my health during it by exposing my ailing limbs to the burning rays of the Australian sun; these acted like a blistering plaster and alleviated the acute pains that even the slightest movement had heretofore caused me. I then returned to Sydney to make the necessary preparations for my new expedition.

Before I left the Darling Downs I was delighted to learn that 5 of my runaway mules had returned after straying off course for about 600 miles, which saved me a considerable sum of money. I will have to spend approximately £200 on new equipment; my original expenditures totaled about £650, and thus the entire outlay for both the failed and the new expedition will amount to £850. This is a lot of money in Germany and quite a hefty sum here as well, yet I live for, I exist solely through my ventures and leave the future up to God. You gave me magnificent advice in your wonderful last letter, but I cannot follow it, it is not in my nature. An endless, indomitable drive compels me to study this natural environment and to solve this country’s mysteries. It is a lovely, complex field of study and if I had good companions I would roam Australia’s forests as happy as the son of an Irish king, yet to find competent companions is so extraordinarily difficult. For the most part only materialistic, small-minded, amoral young men approach me, since they have no other way of advancement. On my first expedition they were almost all still boys, with 2 exceptions, and therefore I was able to force those who rebelled against me to obey me once more. On my next expedition Mr. Classen will accompany me, who has been to almost all shores and crossed all oceans over the past 12 years, who is quite a well-educated young man, and who has suffered enough hardship so as to be sufficiently prepared for an expedition such as mine.

Mr. Lynd, my amiable host, has received orders to leave Sydney and to proceed to New Zealand, where the aborigines are making a large military presence necessary. I therefore have to look for another home, and although I can everywhere find hospitable accommodations for myself, I do require a safe place for my ever-increasing collections, where they will not only be sheltered from insects and the elements, but also easily accessible for whenever I have time to study them.

What you told me with regard to the intercession made by the gracious Princess Pückler is quite good and pleasing. I would very gladly be at peace with my native country and not run the risk of being incarcerated upon my return.

I wish I could see all of you and dear mother one more time, but there is no hope for that as long as I have not crossed this continent, which will most likely take two to three years. — I shall hardly be able to recognize Germany. The railroad will surely have given it a different character. Where will the new discovery of averting pain by inhaling ether lead? Will it not serve to transform men into soft, pain-shy creatures unable to endure even the slightest affliction with patience and manliness? And then, if a savage warrior people should invade from Asia, the times when effete Rome succumbed to the strong primitives from the north will be upon us once again. From my perspective, a regressive element seems to have entered educational practices as well. Everything is becoming outwardly-oriented; diagrams and figures facilitate comprehension, and whereas we racked our brains by reading and studying in the past, the eye now easily grasps meaning when beholding a picture. Yet is this not taking it a step too far? Will students not fear and try to avoid serious courses of study? It is admirable to combine both avenues of learning, yet man’s inherent idleness will soon induce him to skip the harder aspect of the work.

William has probably told you that Mr. Boon, a well-respected bookseller, will publish my journal. He has promised me half of the proceeds, yet I am afraid that this half of the profits will not amount to very much. If I had had the time, I would have composed the work in German but I would have to take some time to reacquaint myself with the German language before I could once more express myself in it with confidence and ease. Had I received a lump sum for the work I would have tried to help out Adolph, since I am truly worried, after paying off the debt I owe to William. Yet at present I cannot give any concrete assurances, aside from those of my good will. I hope that our dear mother is enjoying a worry-free life and that it pleases God to keep her for a long time yet and to allow us to see each other again.

Farewell, my dearest brother-in-law, give a kiss to my dear sister and your children, convey my greetings to dear mother and my relatives and friends, and keep me in your heart

Most affectionately, your loving friend and brother-in-law
Ludwig Leichhardt

[Post scripta at head of first page:] Did you receive my letter containing the music and poems that were composed upon my arrival in Sydney? Address your letters to
Dr. L. Leichhardt
in care of William Macarthur

Camden New South Wales

Sydney, 19 August 1846

My dearest brother-in-law,

Since my arrival from Port Essington I have been kept busy nearly constantly with composing the report on my expedition. Whereas I lived beneath God’s open sky for 15 months straight and almost never used a tent even on the occasional rainy day, I have hardly left the house for the last 4–5 months. My work is complete, has been proofed and copied, and will be sent to England in approximately 3 weeks. It is written in English, because I noted my observations in English and it would have taken me at least three times as long to write the work in German. I told you in my last letter that the colony gave me a gift of £1500, part of which, however, I will have to use for my new expedition. I intend to set out on this new journey in October, and when you read this letter I will once again be in the wilderness. I will probably derive some income from my work and my map as well, with which I intend to repay my debts to William. I hope to use the surplus to render dear mother’s last living days free of worries. Should Adolph not yet have been forced to sell father’s house, then I would pay the majority of his debts under the condition that dear mother derives an annuity from it for as long as she lives. — I dearly wish that father’s property continues to be associated with the Leichhardt family name. — I would certainly be glad to welcome Karl Barth in Australia; and I am certain that he could very well earn his bread here and make many friends, provided he is able and willing to accept conditions and circumstances for which his upbringing might perhaps not have prepared him. Yet it is hardly desirable that he arrives in Australia during my absence, and I will most likely be gone for 2 years. Two things are necessary to achieve independence in this country: persistence and some talent and humility.

It is unlikely that Karl will find work in his trade; it will be necessary to begin a completely different life. Knowledge of sheep farming and wine-growing would help him tremendously. For as long as I live in this country he would always have a home and a sanctuary, for I hope to make a home for myself after my next expedition. It is however possible that he might even obtain a position in his trade.

I have received demonstrations of utmost respect and consideration from all sides, and I am deeply moved to find the guiding hand of a benevolent Providence in this ever-changing life of wandering. Last night I gave a public lecture on my expedition and my audience granted me the loudest applause both before and after. Nothing gratifies me more than the knowledge that this general appreciation is not at all marred by jealousy, and even if jealousy should stir in the hearts of a few small-minded people, it is afraid to show itself in the light of day. We received some news about Sir Thomas Mitchell, who intends to find a way to the northwest coast of Australia. According to rather vague information he is at 22° latitude. I would like to receive more specific and more particular news from him before I embark on my expedition, which is longer and more dangerous than the last one because I intend to cross the entire continent on my way to Swan River. — This time I will take along mules and goats in addition to horses and bullocks. I think that the mules will prove to be very useful. I do not yet know whether I will receive government support or whether I will have to bear all costs myself. Yet this is rather irrelevant: I have the necessary resources and am willing to sacrifice my last cent to reach my goal. A new governor, Sir

Charles Fitzroy, has arrived, and I will almost certainly be introduced to him in a few days. He is said to be a liberal man and to have an interest in expeditions; I am therefore very hopeful to gain his support, since Captain King, who explored Australia’s coasts, is a good friend of mine and has proofed my work for me.

I am about to send my plant collection—or rather the pitiful remainder of the collection that I accumulated on my expedition—to my friend Gaetano Durando in Paris. He has continually displayed the greatest interest in my fate and I am certain that he will do whatever he can to make known any possibly new plants. I wish I could have organized my entire plant collection, yet I ran out of time and have to postpone doing so until after my next expedition.

The country has suffered from severe drought. This drought almost certainly proved rather beneficial to me, since I would have found it difficult to cross the big rivers and marshy areas on the Gulf of Carpentaria. However, it started to rain a few days ago, and I will most likely find enough water on my new journey. I am sorry that you will not be able to read the report on my expedition straight away, yet I am certain that it will be translated into German soon, since the discoveries will prove of the highest interest to geographers. I have sent you music and poetry that had been composed before and after my arrival. Two further pieces have been composed, of which a piece for harp by Mr. Marsh is exceptionally beautiful. Mr. Sylvester’s poem on my arrival is very nice and I wish that you could read a good and poetic German rendering. I hope that these items will not cause you any expenditures,

since Mr. Evan Mackenzie, who is traveling to Germany, has promised me to carry them as far as possible.

I received a letter from Hermann in Breslau and answered him before I learned that he had left Breslau and taken up residence in Hamburg. — He has a big family, yet appears to be in good spirits. Should any of my nephews aside from Carl wish to visit me I would advise them to gain some practical knowledge of sheep farming or wine-growing. These two matters are of the highest importance to the colony and people who know them well will, with a bit of persistence, easily attain independence.

I wrote to you that I have found a dear friend in Mr. Lynd in this colony. Our friendship has become an even closer one after living together for a while, and the lovely man not only sang my dirge, but also seeks to amuse the living man and make him feel at home in his house. He is unwed and approximately 48 years of age. He does, however, have a mother and three sisters in Scotland, to whom he is devoted with a childlike, brotherly love. While his house is the safe haven where I always find rest, even if dropping by unannounced, there is at present not one family in the colony that would not welcome me with open arms. Everyone, from the poor shepherd to the wealthy land owner, added their name to the sum of money with which the colony presented me, and my name is a watchword among Australia’s youth. I believe and hope that this general recognition will last.

28 August. I went to see the governor, but our talk did not cause me to change my preparations. I held my second lecture and was bathed in lavish applause. — Though aware of my weaknesses, I remain brave and undaunted in pursuit of my goal, and I am deeply convinced that I will accomplish it.

A German artist, Mr. Ravac, who was on a great journey across China, India, and these colonies, has told me a great deal about the state of fermenting unrest in which Germany, and especially Prussia, finds itself. I hope that you will tell me more about it in your next letters.

Farewell, convey my greetings to dear mother, Fettchen, and all who share an interest in my fate,

Most affectionately,
yours
Ludwig

Sydney, 18 April 1846

My dearest brother-in-law,

Sir Evan Mackenzie (Baronet) is returning to England and plans on traveling to Germany a few weeks after his arrival, so as to show his young wife the beauties of our fatherland. I am seizing this opportunity to send you these lines, which contain a brief continuation of my journal. In my last letter, which I composed aboard the ship Heroine and which I addressed to William, or rather John Nicholson, I gave you an account of the course of my journey from Moreton Bay to Port Essington. I arrived in Sydney at the beginning of April, and a king could not have been welcomed with more animated joy, more heartfelt interest shown by an entire people. Supposing that I had long since died or been killed by blacks, Mr. Lynd, my dear friend, had composed a dirge, which I am sending you in English. The poem is very nice. A musician, Mr. Nathan, who set Byron’s Hebrew Melodies to music in England, set Lynd’s dirge to music. — My name was on everyone’s lips and everyone grieved the poor, unfortunate traveler through Australia’s wilderness, who only a few dared to criticize for his foolhardy endeavor. — While people shared in this almost universal feeling of concern, grief, and sympathy, I suddenly emerged out of my grave, successful in my endeavor, with discoveries of beautiful, previously unknown and barely imagined stretches of land in my pocket. A kind, universally liked tobacco trader named Aldis had strongly supported me with all kindness earlier, before my departure, and he was the first person I encountered after landing. When he recognized me (which took a long while) he welcomed me with such exultation that I did not know what to make of it. And as he accompanied me to Lynd’s house and shouted to everyone in the street “this is Leichhardt, who we’ve long since buried,

for whom we sang dirges, he comes from Port Essington and has conquered the wilderness” — I thought the entire city would dissolve into joy. My friend at first did not recognize me, since I was much bigger and stronger than I had been before my journey—yet when he recognized me his rejoicing knew no end. I received congratulations on the success of my journey from all sides and all quarters of society, and you can easily imagine that this unexpected interest pleasantly surprised me. I had been certain that some of the more educated men would favorably regard my endeavor to explore Australia’s interior; yet even in these circles I had occasion to anticipate narrow-minded and jealous remarks about the stranger, the non-Englishman. Yet I have not heard a single word of jealousy and even the family of Sir Thomas Mitchell treats me justly. — Societies were formed at once to raise money on my behalf so as to bestow a fitting reward upon me, and letters of thanks and substantial sums of money arrived from all sides, from all corners of the colony. —

Much as Mr. Lynd had composed a dirge, a young man, Mr. Sylvester, composed a hymn of joy, which I am also sending you. Mr. Nathan once again is setting it to music—yet his music has not been published yet. — Over the course of the last three weeks everyone who could manage it sought to pay their personal respects or sought my company at social functions, to which I am invited almost on a daily basis. Yet just as my meager resources failed to deter me from carrying out my plan, the flattering treatment and the accolades that I am everywhere accorded will not cause me to become vain and forget what remains to be done in light of what has been done already.

I hope to embark on a new expedition at the beginning of October, which,

although longer, should nevertheless be more interesting than the last one. I hope to return from Swan River in two years, because I intend to travel up to the tropics, to press toward the north-west coast of Australia at 22°–23° latitude, and to follow it southward to Swan River. At 23° 30’ latitude I crossed and left a river which, although not flowing, contained an ample amount of water. I now wish to follow this river upstream and at its source hope to discover the origins of the tributaries of the Burdekin or the origins of the river system of the Gulf of Carpentaria, which I am hoping to find at about 22°–23° latitude. On the plateau which I postulate for this water system I then want to head westward to the Cambridge Gulf and then to turn southward and to travel to Swan River about 150–200 English miles inland, parallel to the coast. I sent letters to India to obtain camels and will at the very least try to obtain the two camels that are already in the colony.

During my last journey, as well as in my present happy circumstances, and in my dreams of the impending expedition I constantly hear dear mother and father’s words of farewell in my ears: “The Lord will not leave you, my son.” This simple saying not only calms budding fears and fills me with renewed courage, but also serves as a constant reminder to associate the happy success of a dangerous venture with the ministration and protection of a benevolent heavenly Father.

Captain Perry (Deputy Surveyor General) is very busy preparing systematic and elegant renderings of my maps, and it is a joy to observe how the land I wandered through emerges out of Australia’s unknown, blank interior. —

I have translated Ronge’s protest into English and will publish it. I hope it will have a great impact, because everyone fears that the Roman Catholic Church aspires to gain the upper hand in Australia. Ireland probably sends the most immigrants and since the majority of the Irish are Catholic it is only natural that Catholics probably already dominate in numbers. I see little difference between Ronge and Luther; yet I think it is prudent on his part to uphold the Catholic Church in name instead of converting to Lutheranism as an individual. Do not forget to send me detailed reports about the developments in our dear Germany and I recommend that you write a few lines every day so as to keep a sort of journal. I am thinking about your children. Your eldest son would suit me admirably, provided I am more at peace with myself within two years. Let him forge his own path and see whether he has any interest in botany and natural history. Yet teachers of natural history in the secondary schools are usually such stiff and boring people that they completely kill the dormant seeds instead of waking and nurturing them, and they instill in youth distaste for observing nature. Should my new expedition be met with success, I will most likely be in a position to give you a hand financially.

Farewell dearest brother-in-law, and you, my dear sister, and convey my greetings to all of our relatives and friends—but especially to my beloved mother, from your affectionate and loving brother-in-law and brother

Ludwig

On board of the Heroine, an English ship sailing from Java to Sydney, 24 January 1845 [sic, for 1846]

My dearest brother-in-law,

I hope that you have received the letter that I wrote to you before embarking on my great expedition and in which I told you that I was about to cross the continent of New Holland and to travel from Sydney to Moreton Bay and from there to Port Essington on the north coast of New Holland. After 16 months, I have completed my journey and spent 14½ months in the wilderness with the blue sky above me and the forests of New Holland around me. Initially 9 people accompanied me (2 black New Hollanders, 1 negro, 4 young men and 1 16 year-old youth). The negro und one young man returned to Moreton Bay after about 70 English miles, so that those of us who continued on the journey totaled 8 in number. I had brought 16 bullocks and 15 horses with me; 9 of the bullocks I had broken in to serve as pack animals. Initially we traveled on foot and our horses carried the majority of our provisions. We gradually consumed these provisions and took to the saddle. — I had not thought that our expedition would take so long and consequently our provisions proved insufficient. We went without flour for 7 months, even longer without sugar, several months without salt, and eventually ran out of tea, so that we had nothing left but dried beef. This dried beef allowed me to complete my expedition, and since it is unknown in Germany, if I remember correctly, I want to tell you how I prepared it. In the evening, say, we would slaughter a bullock, strip off its hide, and quarter it. Overnight the meat cooled sufficiently and the following morning we sharpened our knives and cut the meat either into thin slices 8”–1–1½’ long and 3–4” wide or into strips an inch or less thick and 4–8–12’ long or longer. We hung these slices and strips from ropes, tree branches, or tree trunks and turned them over several times as they dried beneath the hot sun. Within 2–3 days they had dried enough to be packed away into bags without running the risk of them spoiling. If the butchered bullock had been fat, the dried meat was very nice and became better and tenderer by the day; yet if the animal was lean and if it had suffered on account of the long duration of the expedition, the meat was very tough and stringy and loosened our teeth and made our gums ache. Our bullocks were in good condition and remained fat until we reached the outer edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria; yet after that point they became weak and gaunt and provided us with little meat, and that poor. For 3 months we subsisted on water and dried meat alone, which we usually had to cook for 8–12 hours to tenderize it. Good dried meat is best consumed raw, however, and tastes better than cured beef, although my assessment may perhaps not be trusted since my stomach would have declared everything that was at all edible to be tasty during the expedition. For example, we ate the bullock skin after it had stewed for 12 hours (overnight) and we even preferred it to the lean meat. — We encountered little game on the east coast of New Holland and if we saw any my marksmen were unable to bring it down. The hope I had placed in them turned to have been too high and I found them to be very mediocre and unable to hit either birds or quadruped animals if these were not resting or at close range. As I made my way around the Gulf of Carpentaria, we came across numerous emus (the New Holland ostrich) and our greyhound caught a great number of them for us. My blacks also began to make more of an effort and we came away from there with considerable booty. — When we arrived at Port Essington we had slaughtered all but one of our bullocks, and I had lost 6 horses: one had broken its leg, another had eaten poisonous weeds and 4 had drowned in a river with steep, muddy banks. I had initially traveled along the east coast and crossed 4 river systems; I followed a fifth one upstream. It led me to the middle of the York peninsula (between the eastern ocean and the Gulf of Carpentaria). I crossed a vast plateau and found a different water system on its west side, which I followed downstream toward the Gulf of Carpentaria. I found very little water on the east side of New Holland — no flowing streams or rivers, although there were many dry streams and riverbeds. Every day I was forced to go on reconnaissance missions to find sources of water that we would be able to reach the following day. More often than not, the water was in holes deep enough to retain it for a considerable amount of time. Thunderstorms frequently helped me survive dry stretches of land by filling the dried-up holes with water. — The river that I followed to its headwaters carried an abundance of water and absorbed a lot of streams and smaller rivers coming from the plateau that forms the watershed of the York peninsula.

I followed the Dawson starting at 16°–25° 30’, the system of the Mackenzie from 24° 40’–23° 15’, the Isaacks from 22° 30’–21° 30’, and the Suttor from 21° 30’–20° 35’; the latter merges with the Burdekin, which I followed from 20° 40’ up to 18° 30’; it comes from more of a north-eastern direction and since I was headed west I had to leave this beautiful river, which probably has its source 80–90 English miles higher up. I found the headwaters of the Lynd on the west side of the plateau, which I followed downstream (from 18°–16° 30’) where it ends in a bigger river, the Mitchell, which probably flows into the ocean at 15° 15’. I followed it to 15° 51’, and then left it since it led me too far north. I now turned west toward the ocean. Here between the Mitchell and the ocean I was attacked by blacks one evening after we had gone to sleep. God saved me, yet one of my companions, Mr. Gilbert, a bird collector, was killed by a spear piercing his heart, and two of my other companions, Mr. Calvert and Mr. Roper, were critically wounded. The blacks fled as soon as we fired a shot. I buried Mr. Gilbert and continued my travels after two days, heading south parallel to the east coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria. I crossed the Nassau, the Staaten, the Van Diemen, a smaller river that I named the Gilbert, and the Caron, and reached the head of the Gulf. I now turned toward WNW and crossed a good number of unknown rivers of significant size. It is possible that several of them share a common estuary. Whereas the east coast of the Gulf was beautiful and fertile, thickets of small trees or shrubs covered the country on the west side of the Gulf. At its head, I discovered extensive plains, which were frequently several miles long and broad. — The rivers, meanwhile, were surrounded by open forests and abundant grasslands on both sides. They were deep and broad as long as the tidewater flowed into them, yet shallow where the fresh water began. From the head of the Gulf I headed parallel to the coast toward Limmen Bight (15°), about fifteen to thirty miles from the coast, and reached the shores of the ocean at Limmen Bight. Our travels were very cumbersome here and our progress was very slow since the broad salt water rivers forced us to travel upstream until we found a place to ford them. The grass was meager, our daily marches often long and tiring, and we were forced to make camp several times without having found any sources of fresh water. On these occasions we had to hobble our horses and keep watch over our bullocks at night. Several times we found ourselves on the banks of a beautiful, wide river yet we had to content ourselves with the reflection of the water since it was salty and brackish. As a consequence of the long marches, bad pasture, and lack of water our bullocks grew thinner and weaker with every passing day, and one after the other they stopped walking, lay down, and thus declared that nothing whatsoever could induce it to take one more step. In such instances I left the animal behind and continued my travels until we reached water. I remained there the following day and sent my blacks back, who then slowly coaxed the animal toward the camp, where we slaughtered it — a month would have been hardly enough for it to regain the strength necessary to complete our journey. —

From Limmen Bight I continued my journey in a WNW direction and, after having crossed two mighty salt water rivers (which unite), I reached a freshwater river which I followed far upstream towards the west and WNW to the plateau of Arnheim’s Land. In places this area is very beautiful, in places, especially around the upper course of the river, very mountainous; I named this river the Roper, in honor of my companion. The plateau is flat, sandy, and covered by fairly open forest. On the plateau’s west side I happened upon the springs and headwaters of the South Alligator River, to which I descended from the plateau along a very difficult path. I followed the South Alligator River downstream until its waters became salty and then turned northward toward the East Alligator River. — Vast plains surround these rivers for as long as they carry salt water; rolling hills border these treeless plains at a distance of about ¾-

1 mile from the river. I reached the East Alligator River not far from its mouth, and since it is very wide and deep here I was forced to follow it upstream until I was able to cross it. After I accomplished this I continued my travels northward, found the narrow tongue of land of the Coburg peninsula with the help of some friendly blacks, and finally reached the English settlement of Port Essington in Victoria on 17 December 1845. You can easily imagine how I felt upon seeing houses and being welcomed by civilized people. I had concluded a 14½ month expedition through the wilderness, which was deemed by most to be not only highly dangerous but impossible given my resources. In spite of painful losses, I had managed to bring one bullock to Port Essington, so death by starvation had still been a good way off. Moreover, I still had eight horses and none of us had been forced to walk, which is very exhausting in this climate and most likely would have worn us out quickly.

I saw blacks frequently during my travel and interacted with them several times. With one exception, which cost Mr. Gilbert his life, they were always friendly. Whenever we happened upon blacks during our journey their fear of the horses and bullocks was so great that nothing could induce them to stay, they always ran off screaming and crying. Yet when we remained in the same spot for a longer amount of time to dry our meat, they saw us standing on our own two feet and concluded that we, although rather strange creatures, were in general very similar to them. Hence they gathered together and a crowd makes even a coward brave: after they had observed us at length from a distance and from atop the trees, some of their bravest warriors came closer and made signs conveying friendly intentions. I trustingly went to meet them, took several pieces of iron, metal rings, and so forth with me, and offered them as presents. They reciprocated instantly by giving me spears, clubs, and various other things that they wore as jewelry or as a sign of certain rights of seniority. At the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria and on its west side I thrice encountered black clans and they made clear that they had either seen Europeans or Malays from the Moluccas, Timor, Celebes, or Java before, since they knew our guns and our knives and even offered us their women for the latter.

On the South Alligator River we encountered for the first time blacks who knew of the settlement of whites in the Northwest. One had a piece of cloth, another an iron axe. On the East Alligator the blacks knew a few English words and we were delighted as we heard that one of them asked to learn our names. It appears that they thought us to be Malays. As we finally approached the peninsula, their clay pipes and knowledge of tobacco, rice, flour, and bread indicated that we were close to reaching our journey’s destination. These blacks were extremely friendly, and upon seeing that we had nothing to eat but tough dried meat, they brought us the mealy roots of a grass which had a very pleasant, sweet taste. We were fortunate enough to shoot down a buffalo at the neck of the peninsula, which provided us with meat again and saved the life of my last bullock. The thought of slaughtering this bullock made me quite out-of-sorts: it was my favorite and I had loaded it with my own hands throughout the entire expedition; it had been wild and fractious at first, yet became gradually tame and calm, although from time to time it hit gave me a friendly kick with its hind foot, which usually rendered me lame for several days. It now lives in Port Essington; I gave it as a present to Captain Macarthur, who is the commander of the outpost. He promised to take care of it. Captain Macarthur welcomed me very cordially and did everything in his power to make me forget all about the hardships of my journey. I completed my maps and my report on the expedition during my stay in Port Essington and luckily a ship from Singapore arrived, which contrary to custom was headed for Sydney by way of the Torres Strait.

I am composing this letter aboard this ship (the Heroine) and although I usually feel ill at ease on the ocean, the captain of the ship, Mr. Mackenzie, has rendered my journey a pleasant and enjoyable one thus far, so that I am able to think and to write without becoming seasick.

I was rather unfortunate in my choice of companions and they did everything imaginable to render my travels unpleasant. A sixteen-year-old boy, to whom I had shown kindness in the past and whom I had taught since I believed that he had aptitude, proved a great worry to me. A convict (a man who had been sent to Australia on account of his crimes) asked me in Sydney to take him along, since he believed he would receive a pardon after completing the journey. He behaved well enough, yet he most likely stole dried meat for a long time before I finally caught him. Mr. Gilbert sought to cheat me in manifold ways and I would probably not have been able to enjoy many of the fruits of my labor during this expedition had he remained alive. I found out about his plans after his death. He had turned the boy against me, and had done likewise with one of my blacks. — Unfortunately I had taken 2 blacks along, the one led the other astray, and in the end both rebelled against me. Roper was an inexperienced, small-minded young man, who probably thought it beneath his dignity to obey me and believed that he had as much right to my belongings as I did myself. The only one whose behavior toward me, with a few exceptions, was beyond reproach was another young man, Mr. Calvert, who had crossed with me from England to Europe [sic, for New Holland] on the same ship.

None of my companions fell ill during the expedition, with the exception of diarrhea after they had eaten bad fruit. I myself suffered greatly from gall stones, which I, in great pain, passed with my urine. I thought I would die, yet God had mercy on me. Toward the end of my journey my companions tortured me so much that I probably would not have been able to stand it for much more than a month. I was completely exhausted, more mentally than physically, when I arrived at Port Essington. You can easily imagine that I find little joy in interacting with my tormentors after completing the expedition; the mere sight of them sickens me.

Upon my return to Sydney I will write an account of my expedition and prepare it to go to print. After completing this task, I will try to raise money for a different expedition through Australia’s interior, from the east to the west coast to Swan River. If I accomplish this, then I will travel along the northwest coast from Swan River to Port Essington. As you can see, I still have enough left to do here. When all of this is behind me, then my circumstances will guide me as to what more I shall do. I do not long for Europe, but I do for my European friends. If you were here I would hardly consider returning to Europe. — In Sydney it is believed that I have long since been killed or have starved to death, and so little did they trust in the happy success of my endeavor that they are about to launch another expedition headed by Sir Th. Mitchell, which will cost at least 7000 Rtl., whereas mine cost barely 900 Rtl. We shall see what the people say when I suddenly emerge from the grave with my pockets full of mountains, mountain ranges, rivers, and streams. I lost 6 of my best horses during my journey (2 belonged to Gilbert) and this forced me to throw away my beautiful botanical and geological collections almost entirely. I burned about 3000 dried plants—the Berlin Museum may join in my lamentations because I had intended to send a part of my collection to Berlin.

Farewell my dearest brother-in-law. Kiss Fettchen and your children, convey my greetings to dear mother and all who keep me in their thoughts,

Most affectionately,
your loving brother-in-law
Ludwig

Cambell’s Station, Darling Downs, 3 September 1844

My dearest brother-in-law,

I sent the last letter that I wrote to you from Newcastle on the Hunter, after I had returned from my journey to the Darling Downs and the Moreton Bay District. In Sydney I found all of my collections, which I had sent there from different places in the colony, in the best of order; that is, they had all reached their destination and none of them had suffered any weather damage. In May, June, and July I kept busy with classifying them and at the same time wrote up the geological notes that I had amassed during my travels. Approximately 6 months ago an expedition through the continent’s interior to the north coast had been proposed and the governing assembly had allocated £1000 sterling for this expedition. However, the governor had objected to paying this sum, and the proposal was sent to the English government for sanction. The English government, meanwhile, showed little inclination for supporting such a venture, or at the very least waited a long time to reply. Because I had spent a long time at the outer edges of the colony and because my desire to undertake such an expedition was great I decided to carry it out without government support. The plan was made and with eagerness and persistence I began to prepare myself and to outfit a party of young friends. As my efforts became more widely known, private individuals signaled their willingness to support me and I was finally able to finish my preparations with their help on top of my own meager resources. I left Sydney with 13 horses and 5 companions toward the end of August. I was granted free passage to Moreton Bay. In Moreton Bay I received a very hospitable welcome and assistance of every conceivable kind. I left Brisbane on 28 August and reached the Darling Downs on 1 September. My party now consists of 9 people, 15 horses, and perhaps 8–9 bullocks, which are to carry my provisions. So far I have had to suffer unfavorable winds and persistent rain,

making the streets almost impassable. My journey to Port Essington, including likely deviations from the route, adds up to about 2000 English miles. I can cover only about 10–15 miles each day, and therefore I will most likely spend 5–6 months en route. The continent’s tropical interior promises a rich yield for my scientific inquiries, and my expedition will probably even be of use to the colony, since it will open up communication between the east and north coast, which will likely enable the northern islands and China to forge closer connections with the east coast. The Darling Downs are 1800’ above sea level and an open, lightly wooded, moderately hilly region. I hope that this region extends far in a north-westerly direction and will allow me to progress more easily. I carry with me flour, tea, sugar and a few other foodstuffs but no meat provisions, since our shotguns are supposed to provide us with as many kangaroos, emus, bustards, pigeons, etc., as are necessary. — If you remember the longing with which I constantly yearned for this unknown land, then you will easily comprehend the joy which I feel at being able to see and to explore its unknown interior. I can hardly contain myself as I walk behind the long row formed by my horses and companions, and am able to tell myself: your persistence has finally been rewarded; you were able to do what many a wealthy man neither was able nor wanted to do. I provisioned myself under very favorable circumstances. I bought my horses, which 4 years ago probably would have cost £30–40, for £8 apiece. The remaining necessities of life were gifted to me. The weapons and ammunition were likewise presents. My instruments are the only serious expenditure aside from the horses. The colony will most likely repay my investments should I be so fortunate as to reach my expedition’s destination.

Yet even if I should not arrive at Port Essington, I will see so much of the continent that science will benefit greatly in the fields of geography, geology, and botany. — The mouths of several rivers have been spotted on the north coast; yet none of them seem large enough to conclude that they flow from far within the interior. Yet since all the large rivers were discovered inland, it is possible that here, too, I may happen upon a large river system, 3–400 miles away from the coast which flows into the Gulf of Carpentaria or toward the north coast. At the latitude of Moreton Bay, the side arm of the coastal range which runs along the entire east coast extends toward the west, and it is possible that this range constitutes the main ridge that separates the southern from the northern waters of the continent. I plan to follow along the southern slopes of this range until I reach the longitude of Port Essington and will then turn northward.

My journey will require 5–6 months to complete, and 5 months are necessary for my return. You can therefore not count on a letter from me in less than a year. However, I will write from Port Essington, and perhaps ships that anchor in Port Essington will take my letter to the East Indies.

The longer I live in the colony, the more familiar I become with this natural environment, the more at home do I feel and I would be a happy man if I had you by my side. I would then be certain that friendly, loving souls were awaiting me every time I returned from my often hazardous travels, and although I have found a noble, valiant friend in Mister Lynd, he is too much of an “old bachelor” to tend to me in a sisterly or brotherly manner.

A thousand greetings to dear mother and all my loved ones

Most affectionately,
your loving brother-in-law
L. Leichhardt

Newcastle, 15 May 1843 [sic, for 1844]

My beloved sister,

Today the steamer brought me all the letters that had arrived for me in Sydney during the last 3 months. Oh, what a delight! A letter from you, from Hilgenfeld, and Schmalfuß were among them. I have not heard such a dear woman’s voice since I left my fatherland. See how far my fate has sent me, and how I am becoming at home in the entire world. Even as a boy, it seemed to me that I might borrow the wings of the dawn in order to fly to the farthest seas. And you ask me, my dear sister, how I feel, whether peace also accompanies the tumultuous striving in my breast—my answer is that, although the passions in a man’s bosom act more fiercely upon him and are more difficult to master, his heart can still remain pure and free, and his eye can contemplate the past without pain and look calmly towards the future. I have left those dear to me at home, and this causes me sorrow; but I know that I have a warm place in their hearts, and that they think of me as a blessing which is absent. What should I tell you about my activities? You take delight in lovely flowers and their scents, you rejoice in the greening tree and the shade it casts, you look out beyond the earth and forest to the starry heavens, and you are moved deeply by so many voices that speak to you of an eternal being hidden from you. If Nature moves you to such affection, just think how it must move me as I make it my task to uncover her deepest secrets and reveal the laws which make her so majestic, so glorious. Would it not be a sin, if I were not to give the answer which our Savior gave to his worried mother when she found him in the temple: “Let me be. Do you not wish that I should serve my Father?” — I am not likely to gain any great amount of riches, but my science does not require much, and it brings me into contact with the best circles, where I receive the most friendly assistance with whatever I might require. I have just returned from an 18-month journey to the lesser-known parts of the colony. Everywhere one meets shepherds and herdsmen, and frequently well-educated men. However, I often lived alone in the woods, in the company of only my horse and my dog—and yet I have never been less lonely. My expenses are very little so long as I am living in the bush—and in Sydney I have good friends who allow me to reside in their houses. Even so, I am living on the funds that my friend Nicholson has placed at my disposal, and since I do not wish to impose upon him any further, I will soon have to think about how to earn my bread myself and obtain the money necessary for additional journeys. Who knows what the next moment will bring; if you two have difficulty foreseeing the immediate future, how much harder it is for me, as I am so much more at the mercy of fate and chance than you.

My thanks to Hilgenfeld for his brotherly suggestion; I am delighted that he thinks so highly of me, and I promise to write as long as the postage is not too expensive for you. Know that your faraway brother is close to you in his thoughts, that he is in your presence through his letters, while a neighbor, as long as he remains silent, might just as well be living in the wilds of Australia! Do not forget that, were I to return home, I would be in danger of facing a great deal of unpleasantness from the government. I am not willing to let myself be treated as a deserter—and yet precisely this is likely to be the case. The government has acted in a most foolish manner. Rather than taking advantage of what its native son can offer from abroad, enriching its museums and collections and gathering knowledge about far-off lands, it cast me off, like some wretched miser, when I asked to be freed from my military duty. This is a very sore point for me, and I am ashamed when I must admit here abroad how my womanish government has treated me. In London I was refused a Prussian travel pass to Paris; I was forced to accept a pass from the French consul which listed me as an Englishman. In Paris I attempted to get in contact with the government again. I went to the ambassador and requested a pass to Italy: instead all they wanted to give me was one to Prussia! What could I do? Should I have given up my connection to my brotherly friend and patron Nicholson, which promised me Switzerland, Italy, England, and the far reaches of the world—merely in order to comply with the senseless demand that I serve for a year in Berlin? I wrote to the government, explained my reasons and prospects, and what was the response? “It is impossible for the government to extend your leave beyond 1840.” Nicholson could not suppress a “Goddamn it,” and I hoped that such a sensible government, which in all likelihood has any number of travelers abroad, would come to regret having forced me to become a deserter. Had I been the son of a rich family, they would probably have accommodated this rare opportunity offered to one of the fatherland’s own naturalists. But since I was just the child of a poor farmer, without anyone to advocate for me, the government in its wisdom decided that it could not dispense with a year of military service in order to benefit from a traveler in New Holland. Oh the shame, the shame, the shame! Forgive me for dwelling on the subject for so long; I am angry again whenever I think about it. — Thus I was obliged to seek out scientific connections elsewhere, and [instead] of sending my collections to Berlin, they are now going to England and Paris. You will have learned from my letters to Schmalfuss that this country, although young, is already dotted with numerous towns which are gradually developing. The pleasures of life that Europe has to offer are also available here.

Many ships arrive and depart for all corners of the world, steamers travel along the coasts and several of the rivers and connect distant towns with each other. — To me, the bush seemed to be an uncharted wilderness when I began my journey; now I know that the busy, enterprising settlers are making tracks with their wagons in all directions, that herds of sheep and cattle cross through and pasture in it. The stations are about 3–5 German miles apart, and travelers are received with much hospitality everywhere. In some areas the dwellings are quite cozy, while in others they are mere huts made of boards with 2 or 3 rooms with the wind blowing through the cracks in the walls. They are roofed with bark, which can be stripped easily from a number of tree species. A traveler carries his own woolen blanket with him, for often he must sleep outdoors. But the air is so mild, the climate so healthy, and the ground so dry, that one sleeps just as peacefully and comfortably outside as one does under shelter. On countless occasions I have stretched out beside a pleasant fire, wrapped in my woolen blanket, and watched the movement of the stars as they passed shining and splendid above me. The constellations in this hemisphere are not the same as in [yours], and we share only a very few stars. But the same moon and the same sun shine upon us all, although not at the same time. This land might be one of the most fertile in the world, if the air were more humid and the rain more frequent. But from time to time there are long droughts, during which the sun sears all plant life and nearly turns broad swaths of land into deserts. And then comes a rainstorm—and the earth is quickly covered again with the most lovely green. Further to the north rain is more frequent, and the earth thus is more fertile. The mountains are covered with thick bushes and the ground is thick with grass. Livestock thrives most wonderfully on such pastures, although the sheep suffer notably when there is too much moisture. In these bushes I spent a substantial period of time investigating the various types of trees which grow there. Giant trees 200 feet tall loom like the pillars of heaven above a flock of shorter trees of 80–100’ in height. Vine-like plants wrap around them and bind them together in all directions, and frequently their crowns are woven with a rich festoon of blossoms. — Few of these trees have edible fruits. But many have beautifully grained wood that can be polished to a high gleam.

Awaken and nourish in your children a love for what is good, and do not worry about how many they are. Look at our family! There were eight of us, and some among you faced a difficult struggle before you could set down roots. I fear that Barth made a poor decision when he gave up seafaring, even though his attacks of gout during the sea journeys were very unpleasant. I am delighted to hear that Adolph has become a capable farmer. I hope that he will make the utmost effort to make dear mother’s life as easy as possible. Can you tell me what has become of the children of Pastor Roedelius, and of the Bocks? It is remarkable how impressions from one’s boyhood remain in spite of all that might come after. As a young boy I was greatly devoted to Bertha, and the older girl laughed at the small boy; at 16, 17, and 18 Lottchen Bock was my great flame. At present, after so long, and after a life stirred in so many ways, after so many inspiring impressions, Bertha still appears to me again and again in my dreams, and Lottchen does not! Is this not quite strange? — And yet I loved Bertha as a young boy and Lottchen as a young man. You are a wise woman, can you explain this to me? What has become of Ludwig Riemann? —
Now adieu, give your children a kiss in my name, greet Gottfried, Raimund, Herrmann, if you should happen to correspond with them, and write to me soon. I will give you news in a short while, even before I receive a response to this letter.

Most affectionately,
Your brother and brother-in-law
Ludwig Leichhardt