Letter 1: Work, songs and the thought of America
February 20, 1849 — Cologne
From: August Hilpert
To: His brother, probably David

Current reading edition, September 24, 2026. Square brackets mark uncertainty or editorial explanations. Compared with the historical translations; unresolved wording is not supplied as fact.

Dear Brother!

I received your letter with pleasure on the 14th of this month, as the first [senior] journeyman in my workshop [the following workshop qualifier remains uncertain]. From it I learned that you really have left Gotha—and in such bad weather! I would not have expected that. Still, everyone must know for himself what he has to do; otherwise things cannot be helped.

I am only sorry that you did not call on my brother in Nordhausen. He would have welcomed you warmly, and you could have told him my greetings at the same time, for I have not even written to him yet. I regret that. The journey you have now made from Nordhausen to Halberstadt I made in the opposite direction, from Ballenstedt to Nordhausen, two years ago, but in summer, when it was more pleasant.

You also write, dear brother, that I would like to be with you. I readily believe it, for I am especially fond of being among pretty girls. But I also wish that you were here with me by Father Rhine; that can still be arranged. They wrote to me from home four weeks ago that you had been with [personal name uncertain; previously guessed “Poland”] in Mühlhausen.

Everyone at home is well. They wrote that, when I come home, I ought to come dressed properly. They shall have that, if it is possible. Work has been poor up to now, but it will soon improve. The “27ers” [apparently a numbered group or military unit; meaning uncertain] are not stationed in Cologne but in Aachen and Coblenz, so I cannot greet any of them.

Dear brother, I wish I had been with you yesterday for the slaughter feast. I would have joined in heartily; I had a good appetite for it. Instead, today I have Limburger cheese, and that is a treat for me.

[A line crossing the damaged fold mentions your being with a widow; part of its wording is unreadable.] You might marry into that—that would be something for me! Work away diligently, so that you get on in the world and we can come home again next autumn, remedy the shortage of money, and impress the girls in Wiehe [the adjective appears to read “Wiehschen”; provisional].

This week the master—or Schütz, after my own way [of calling him; wording uncertain]—has advanced me so much toward my coat [“Rock,” rather than work] that I am almost determined to remain in Cologne until the middle of August, or at the latest the end of August, so that I can finally get some good clothes, and then go home from here.

Then, I must tell you, you could come to me by that time. We could travel along the Rhine as far as Mainz and go home from there. Or, if that does not suit you, I will come to you, and we can travel through the Harz toward home, for it is very beautiful there in summer. I worked for half a year in Ballenstedt, by the Harz.

You also write to me about [unclear word], saying that I have [an unclear condition or attribute; the expression remains unresolved]. I must tell you that this is wrong. Until a fortnight ago I was still drinking schnapps, and once it got me into serious embarrassment [“Verlegenheit”]. At last I realized that I could no longer go on in that way, although there is nothing wrong with enjoying oneself. However, I intend to give it up until Whitsun, if I can keep my word. I will give you proof that I have kept my word when I next write to you.

Today is Shrovetide everywhere. Here in Cologne it begins on Sunday, and there are three days of splendid celebrations. On Monday a great procession of masked people goes through the town—a carnival procession in which all sorts of jokes and representations of every kind are made, especially political ones. People can dress up as whatever they please: kings, shepherds, animals, knights, and anything else imaginable. They go about the streets, into the taverns, and there is eating and drinking everywhere. You would need a whole thaler for those three days.

But because I have received a little money for a [coat?—word uncertain] and bought myself one, I did not want to take on more debts as well. So I have withdrawn from it all and am sitting here writing to you. In the evening I shall go to bed early. Then the holidays will be over, and I shall be just as cheerful as anyone else, without having acquired any more debts. That is how things stand with me.

Dear brother, if you mean to stay in that little town until August, you can confidently expect me to visit, for I shall certainly remain in Cologne until August.

Nor can I yet answer your question about America. They say that gold has recently been discovered in a country called [California; the writer's spelling is irregular], and that there is so much gold there, dug from the earth. Whether that is true I do not yet know. But it is too far inland: it is another 400 German miles. There are already so many Americans there that provisions can scarcely be obtained. Yesterday the newspaper described it and warned people, and I think the best thing is to stay out of it.

Everyone is being warned against going there, since it is merely an empty illusion. Whatever else you have heard about it, write to me here very precisely, and do not go straight to America because of it [“nicht deshalb gleich nach Amerika”; the verb is implied]. I myself am inclined to travel to America, but first I must wait for something here in Germany.

I also want to let you know what is happening now. In our workshop we take the *Neue Rheinische Zeitung*, a genuinely democratic paper, so we hear what is going on.

At present there is war in Hungary against the Austrians. Hungary has broken away from Austria because [the emperor?—the subject is uncertain] left Vienna in the autumn and the people were [oppressed?—part of the line is lost at the fold]. So now the Austrian armies were [sent?] against Hungary to conquer it again and bring it to submission. But the Hungarians are capable people and will probably win, for Austria is also at war with Italy, which likewise wants to fight its way to freedom.

In Italy the tension is even greater than in Germany. In short, the Romans no longer want the Pope as their regent. The Grand Duke of Tuscany has also fled, and a republic has been proclaimed in both countries. If Italy now has its republic and fights itself free of its princes, you may believe that the French will come here, and Germany will become free as well.

So far the French themselves are not yet united. The republic the French have now is no good either; it is only good for the bourgeoisie, or the rich. The democratic republic can and will be won through another revolution; in which no rich person will be spared [“wo kein Reicher … verschont werden”; reading of the connecting word uncertain].

There is great ferment, and before long it will burst forth mightily again. The old police state is collapsing at every corner. If we were together, I could explain it to you, but it is too long a matter for a letter.

Everyone is now looking toward Hungary and Italy. Austria has war on two sides, and revolution is breaking out again in the country itself. The anger over what people endured in Austria last year is erupting. State bankruptcy is also close at hand. You can imagine how things look. But be careful about showing my letter to others [“hüte dich … mit meinem Brief …”; the precise final wording remains uncertain]. More about that another time.

I also ask you to greet all the pretty girls and acquaintances warmly for me. I wish I could rest against their lovely bosoms. Apart from that, I do not know much more. I wish you much enjoyment and happy travels.

When you write home, give everyone my greetings too, for I probably shall not write to them before Easter, since I shall have a great deal to do. Do not take it amiss that this letter is not prepaid; because of the holidays I am without money.

You also asked me for songs, since you can use them. I shall gladly fulfill that wish, so that you can entertain the pretty girls. Please write again very soon. And now farewell, keep well, and remember that I too need a whole hundred thalers [“nöthig habe”].

Your brother,

**August Hilpert [family spelling]**

**Address note:** The address is the same as before, care of Mr. Müller, the letter carrier, [street uncertain], No. [26], Cologne.

## Songs and poems included with the letter

### “A Free Song”

**1**

The German realm is torn apart,
into thirty-eight scraps.
A princely tribe, alien to the people,
swaggers with its treasures;
through countless taxes and duties
it greedily devours the people's sweat.

**Writer's marginal explanation:** “The word Mauth means taxes or customs duty.”

**2**

The beautiful bond of language alone
still connects the Germans,
from the vine-rich Father Rhine
to where the Vistula reaches the sea.
[Two lines about oppression, compulsion and force remain uncertain.]

**Another marginal note:** Underlined words are to be strongly emphasized [the final wording is unclear].

**3**

Scarcely has freedom's morning light
made the fatherland glow,
when the Confederation sits in judgment
and spits out poison and gall,
threatening all free thinkers
with dungeon chains, even death.

**4**

Therefore, Germans, take courage!
Close your ranks more tightly.
It takes freedom's sacred courage
to free yourselves from the yoke.
If you are united, firm and free,
you will overthrow every tyranny.

### “Dear Child!”

The manuscript has eight short stanzas, arranged across columns.

**1**

Ah, may it always remain so,
[Minna — the connection with the following words is uncertain],
never rob me of friendship.
Among the stars dwells love,
love in its full glory.

**2**

Here beneath the earthly sky
joy does not fail you,
while around you in the throng of stars
everything speaks aloud of love.

**3**

If only the heart's last bond
of hope remains to you,
reach out trustfully to the good one
who so dearly loves you.

**4**

See! Time's storms roll
all generations down.
Trembling like flowers, joys fade
so swiftly into the grave.

**5**

Not for solitary stillness
did the Creator give you a heart;
nor your spirit its abundance
of lofty feelings for sorrow.

**6**

Come into my [realm — “Gefilden”; reading tentative],
good one; you would gently soothe
the feelings of your heart with mine,
and share joys with me as a friend.

**7**

Love me! Never shall doubt
of my heart trouble you.
You may choose someone happier,
but none more faithful than I.

**8**

When your glances tell me
that they promise me love,
then, yes, I shall ask you:
tell me, is love not beautiful?

### “Longing for the Rhine!”

**1**

There, where the old Rhine with its waves
greets many a castle's moss-covered ruins;
where the blue grapes swell more richly,
where sweet grape must rewards the vintner's toil—
there I would like to be, there I would like to be,
with you, Father Rhine;
upon your hills I would like to be!

**2**

There, where the lovely tales of ancient times
gather pleasantly around the imagination,
there it is—my longing cannot deceive me—
there is the land of beautiful poetry.
There I would like to be, there I would like to be,
with you, Father Rhine,
where legend follows legend!

**3 — continued on the next manuscript page**

There I could rock in a light gondola.
Oh, if I had reached my longing's goal!
Then sweet dreams would surround me,
as the vintner's merry song resounds.
There I would like to be, there I would like to be,
where your wave murmurs
and the echo listens behind the rocks.

**4**

I would gladly quicken my steps
to where memory now draws me.
I would go to the lovely vine-covered hills
which the Creator made for our delight.
Soon I am here, soon I am there;
and you, my Father Rhine,
will soon join in my wishes.

[Printed versions of this song vary. The translation follows August’s manuscript, with uncertain readings marked.]

### “Farewell to a Beloved!”

**1**

The night is still; I alone am awake.  
Slumber gently closes every eye.  
The happy days of youth are torn apart,  
The wreath of blossoms of my joy is torn away.

**2**

Ah, all, all has vanished:  
My good spirits, my cheerfulness and laughter.  
I dreamed only of happy, joyful days  
In your arms, resting faithfully against you.

**3**

From now on I will love you as a brother,  
Since I may not love you as a bride [“Braut”].  
Choose for yourself the finest girl  
Whom the world and fate lay at your feet.

**4**

Beloved, for the last time my heart  
Names you in this night, which no one created [“die niemand schaff”; this line remains uncertain].  
Beloved young man, like the sharpest weapon,  
Grief pierces my sick heart.

**5**

Ah, surely you will not reject it—  
The last plea that rises to you;  
The last tear, in silent hours,  
That forces its way from my eye toward you.

**6**

And now farewell. Be happy, and protect  
A girl's heart that presses close to yours;  
For with your gentle, angelic glances  
You will surely find a good girl.

**Writer's note beneath the poem:** [Partly lost in the fold.] “… remained loyal to one another … and she was married … and the old love had not yet disappeared.” [I cannot reliably reconstruct the whole comment.]

**Translation note:** The speaker appears to be a woman addressing a young man: she will love him as a brother because she cannot be his bride. The earlier “bridegroom” was a translation error, not evidence of a copying error by August. The difficult line in stanza 4 remains unresolved.

### “Longing for Spain!”

**1**

Far in the south lies beautiful Spain;  
Spain is my native land,  
Where shady chestnut trees  
Rustle by the Ebro shore;  
Where almonds blossom red,  
Where the fiery grape beckons,  
Where the roses glow more beautifully  
And the moonlight shines more golden.

**2**

For a long time, with my lute,  
I have wandered sadly from house to house;  
Not a single eye looked out  
Upon me kindly or familiarly.  
Sparingly they hand me gifts,  
Grudgingly they bid me go.  
Alas, not one of them can understand  
the poor brown-skinned boy.

**3**

This mist weighs me down,  
Hiding the sun from me.  
All my merry songs  
I have long since forgotten;  
In every melody  
A single note steals in:  
I would like to return home  
To the land full of sunshine.

**4**

I shall no longer hold back  
My heart's longing beat.  
Gladly I shall renounce you [addressee unspecified],  
If only you leave me the happiness of home.  
Away to the south, away to Spain,  
To the land full of sunshine!  
Under the shade of the chestnut trees  
I would like to be free of my cares.

### Untitled song beginning “To Her, to Her”

[This separate song is written beneath and between the columns of “Longing for Spain.”]

**1**

To her, to her whom I have chosen,  
Let the storm clouds be my signposts!  
To her, to her—for I have lost all happiness  
Since I have been parted from her.

**2**

Though the waves beat upon the cliffs,  
Though the howling north wind roars in the forest—  
To her, to her! Love knows no fear;  
Bright sunshine is its lot.

**3**

There! Did lightning reveal the path  
That leads across the waves? [“Fluten”; tentative]  
To her, to her, though the earth itself should tremble!  
I hear and see nothing but her.

**4**

Let the boatman scold his wild [steed — “Schimmel”; tentative metaphor],  
When the water snatches boat and oars away.  
To her, to her! Love has no fear;  
Even in death she grants a heaven beyond the grave [“Ein Himmel … nach Grabe”; grammar irregular and wording uncertain].

[The last two stanzas contain difficult handwriting; several phrases are translated provisionally.]

**Final notes from the writer:** “Dear brother, you will surely be able to find a tune for this.” / “I will teach you the tunes when we are together again.”