CHAPTER 1

Old Ties Tested, New Bonds Formed

February–August 1859

THE BOOTH AND ANNEKE FAMILIES BECAME ENTWINED IN 1859 as each recovered from a domestic trauma. In 1858, the deaths of the four children on the East Coast had prompted Fritz and Mathilde Anneke to move back to Milwaukee, home to numerous members of their extended families, including Mathilde’s mother, Elisabeth Giesler; Mathilde’s sister Johanna Weiskirch; and Fritz’s brother Carl Anneke. Yet the Annekes did not stay together in Milwaukee for long. Seeing conflict brewing on the Italian Peninsula, Fritz persuaded three Milwaukee editors to engage him as a war correspondent. Reporting on what would become known as the Second War for Italian Independence promised Fritz meaningful work and the possibility of mixing with nationalists and revolutionaries who shared the ideals he and Mathilde had fought for in 1848 and 1849.

By the time Fritz left for Europe in May 1859, Mathilde had established a firm bond with Mary Booth, whose life was also in turmoil. Mary’s husband Sherman was famous for his abolitionism, especially his part in instigating the 1854 jailbreak of Joshua Glover, who had escaped slavery in Missouri. In March 1859, however, Sherman Booth was arrested for another reason, for “seducing” a fourteen-year-old girl who had cared for his daughters. Mary, convinced that Booth was guilty of rape, depended increasingly on Mathilde. Their growing affection was evident in the fact that they addressed each other by names no one else used. Mary began calling her older friend “Franziska Maria” because she considered Mathilde an ugly name,¹ while Mathilde used the German form of Mary’s name, Maria. In addition to providing emotional support, Mathilde gave Mary money, nursed her when she was sick, and helped to manage Booth’s lawyers. In fact, Mathilde moved into the Booth home with her son Percy (nine) and daughter Hertha (four). The Booths’ daughter Lillian May or Lili (four) lived there too, but their older daughter Mary Ella (nine) left to stay with Mary’s mother, Adeline P. Corss, in Hartford, Connecticut. Unsurprisingly, Mary corresponded regularly with Ella (as everyone called Mary Ella), her mother, and also her sister Jane Corss. The letters in this chapter cover the period from Mary and Mathilde’s meeting until Booth’s trial ended with a hung jury.

Mary Booth to her sister Jane Corss

Milwaukee, February 15, 1859
(English original)

My dear Jane:

I was very happy to hear from you & and glad that you are now able to wear nice dresses. I will send you what you wish with the greatest pleasure as soon as I am able to sew. I have not been very well of late, but now I am better.

I send you a very beautiful mereno dress by Salsman,² who will start for the East to-morrow. Abby, and the twins³ will go with him. The twins have grown very pretty.—I will make your pink mereno loose dress, as you wished, the first thing I do.

I received a box of most beautiful flowers, among which were a white calla, and orange flowers, from Mrs. Mitchel,⁴ yesterday—and from Madam Anneke, a pot of mingionette in blossom.

Madam Anneke is the beautiful German woman whom we heard lecture at Treat’s hall,⁵ when Ella was a baby. She was in battle, like “Joan of Arc.” You admired her very much then, and perhaps you remember her. She has lived in New York⁶ since then, until within a few months.

Her whole life has been devoted to literature, and she has published about fifty books, poetry, novels, and scientific, and revolutionary works.⁷—Her mother⁸ is a splendid old lady. She sent me some “soup” a few days ago, which shows her to be very good! She was the most intimate friend of Madam Ida Pfiffer.⁹

Madam Anneke speaks but very little English, but I mannage to understand her. She has been celebrated by Heine, Freiliheurt, Sallet,¹⁰ and all the modern German Poets. Mr. Richmond¹¹ is in raptures over her—and thinks there are few such living women, and is happy that she is my friend. She spends part of every day here, now since I have not been well—but I am nearly well now—and the first thing I do will be to make your pink loose dress. Mr. & Mrs. Spalding,¹² and Mrs. Faxon (“She that was Josephene Hood”)¹³ send their love to you.

Write as often as you can

With much love I am as ever

aff.¹⁴ Mary

Mary Booth to her mother Adeline Corss

Milwaukee, March 4, 1859
(English original)

My dear Mother:

I am awful sick, much sicker I feel than when I was the worst.

Monday I went to Waukesha¹⁵ to attend the wedding of Prof. Daniels¹⁶ & Miss Gove, which was Tuesday. I took cold, & have an infernal neuralgia¹⁷ in my face & teeth. One of my front teeth is so sore it cant be touched, the filling came out of it before we came in this house, & I could not have courage to have it in. My face is swolen horridly. My nose being stretched from ear to ear. I have to lie on the lounge all the time, & can only sit up a short time. The Dr. says it is far better to be in my face than on my lungs again, in which case it would have been very bad. But I cough enough, any way, & wish I did more, rather than be cussed with such devilish torment. It makes me mad—the first time I have been for a very long time, & I guess blaspheming a little will do me good.

Sherman is in Madison.¹⁸ I expect him home to night. Madam Anneke staid with me last night & night before. I was dreadful sick, & she sent her husband for chloroform in the evening for me, & I put it on my tooth & face, & it helped it. She would not let me smell of it. …

Madam Anneke’s mother wears a cross of large diamonds set in iron, and also a ring, because her husband had iron mines. She always dresses in black velvet & is a most elegant woman although she cannot speak one word of English. Madam Anneke is herself grandmother of two children—her daughter’s, who is only twenty years old.¹⁹ She wishes I could have been with her in battle!!

I guess I would’nt stand and be shot at. It would take Jan[e] for that, with her “Mazeppa”²⁰ notions. She had two horses a day. She has written a book about the Battle, & also her autobiography,²¹ which I hope to be able to read sometime—& has published in all, fifty books.—She writes poetry & will translate mine as a soon as she understands English more. She is very large, & the most beautiful, delicate, child-like face you ever saw. She hates American womens rights females.²² It was her love of her country & her husband, especially him, that led her to battle. She, & Carl Shurtz²³ were her husband’s Agatants.²⁴ They were exiled from the country after the Revolution. Mr. Richmond was in Germany at the time, & says she was [&] is the glory of Germany. She has been painted as Madonna in two churches as a compliment to her fame as a poetess.²⁵ Mr. Richmond says she is in all respects a most wonderful woman. She came in while Mr. Davis²⁶ was here, & he did not give me another look. His wife said to me—“Jackson has found a wonder now.” Lillian²⁷ came to us when we were in bed in the morning & said, “The little bird dreamed of you both last night, in the dark he dreamed of the Light.” Madam Anneke kissed her half to death, & said “never a child uttered an expression more poetical.” Ella dances most beautiful, & is pleasant & good natured. They have gone to see Fanny Crouch.²⁸ Ella²⁹ teaches Madam Anneke’s boy the Bible, & he her, German. I will write to Jane about it.

Mary

I have strung out a long letter at last by spells.

Fritz Anneke to Mathilde Anneke

Detroit, May 30, 1859

My beloved Mathilde Franziska Maria!

I had almost finished writing my letter to you when it happened: Someone knocked on the door to my room at the Hotel Mauch—that same room we stayed in last year—and as I get up I accidentally drag the tablecloth with me, and with it my letter paper, the letter to you, and the ink jar. Sadly, a large ink stain on the carpet and a completely ruined letter were the results. Now I quickly need to write the letter all over again in a rush.

Not until the moment we had to say goodbye did we realize—you as much as I—just how much we love each other. And had we known how much pain it would cause to go our separate ways, I may not have left and you may not have let me leave. I also think that—to put both our minds at ease—you may have decided to rest close to my heart that night. That is the very reason I came to your bed.—The moment we had to say goodbye, Mathilde, I will never forget!

Karl,³⁰ Emil,³¹ and Booth accompanied me to the ship. You will know by now that I negotiated with Booth then.³² He owes you $5. You will have received my farewell greetings by now. I was granted a free journey to Detroit. The lake was very rough and so we had to stay in the parlor and close to the oven. I spent my time on the ship thinking of you and the children and studying French vocabulary. In the course of the afternoon, I went on deck for a moment, leaving my dictionary in the parlor. Upon my return, I found that my letter had disappeared without a trace. All my investigations were fruitless. The passengers and waiters hadn’t seen it. On landing in Grand Haven,³³ however, the letter was suddenly in its place again. It seemed that the thief had felt ashamed of himself. I could tell you several stories about the group of travelers, the journey, the strangely formed coastline of Grand Haven, and about the place itself. But I don’t have the time right now. Maybe I’ll write about it, and you’ll be able to read the printed version. On landing in Grand Haven, I discovered a fellow countryman among the passengers. He hailed from Olpe³⁴ and had already lived close to Lake Superior for 14 years. He knew Rainard Weiskirch³⁵ very well and had been to Iserlohn,³⁶ Dortmund etc. He was a very knowledgeable and well-informed man. We traveled together for the rest of the journey and arrived at the Hotel Mauch together yesterday morning at 6 a.m.

Detroit is blooming like a garden in the spring right now. It truly is a beautiful place. At least several of its streets deserve that distinction, like Jefferson Avenue and Fort St. There are marvelous trees on those streets, as well as nice houses and gorgeous gardens surrounding each of them. …

You will probably not receive another letter from me before I arrive in New York. And now a thousand greetings and kisses to you from your Fritz and think of him with love.

Greetings to Grandma,³⁷ Karl, Mr. Booth, etc.

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, June 1859

Dear good Fritz!

Well, with Maria’s³⁸ letter, you will have received the first message from us by now. Our little children ask about you often, and I try to comfort them with the prospect of reuniting with you soon. This morning I woke up early with them, dressed them nicely, and had breakfast with them alone. We talked about you. I will spend my time wisely now, because I’ve agreed to translate a novella for Leslie.³⁹ I wrote the first column⁴⁰ yesterday afternoon. I do not have any more difficulty writing now than I had 20 years ago, and so why shouldn’t I undertake it? He promised to pay 1 dollar per column and promised to send the $16 he owes me in 8 days. Tell me your opinion when you collect what he still owes us. Tell me if I can risk this, that is if he would indeed pay me. He wants 3 columns per week.

A shameful newspaper article written to humiliate you has been published in today’s edition of the Seebote.⁴¹ You need to read it. I sent the Banner⁴² a simple counterstatement today. I am enclosing both documents.

I hope and wish, dear Fritz, that you are healthy. I am healthy again now—more or less.

Our situation here remains unchanged. Maria is rather healthy and affectionate towards me and the children. I do not want to tell any more about myself.—

Farewell, dear Fritz. Perhaps you won’t leave American soil too soon and will receive another letter from us. If this is in fact my last farewell, then please know that I am sending you this with tears in my eyes. Farewell and never forget the mother of your six children.

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, [June or July] 1859

Dear good Fritz!

When Maria and I walked over to the post office yesterday, arm in arm, I was so happy to receive your nice long letter from Detroit. Your little letters for the children and Maria also brought us much joy. While walking over to Grandmother’s house, we kept reading your letters. Maria was not satisfied with my poor translation of your letter. It would be better if you would respond to her funny little letters in English, her “sweet mother tongue.” You can probably tell from the letters she wrote you how she has tried to comfort me. And that did not fail to have the desired effect on me because her immortal sense of humor often made me smile through my tears and even laugh out loud. I hope, dear Fritz, that you will have gotten over some of the most terrible pain of separation from the children and me. I for one try to deal with the direness of our separation as much as possible by carefully looking after those two gems of ours, whom I am now caring for alone. The love of my friend Maria and hard work also help me deal with this pain. But even after overcoming this pain, there is still so much melancholy in our current times. It causes a feeling of numbness in me against everything except for my children and Maria. If only I can preserve my health until I can one day bring the children back to you again, I shall be happy. It was not just at the moment we had to say goodbye, dear Fritz, that I realized once again how much I loved you. I’ve been aware more than anything of my love for you in its varying degrees from the moment it awakened until now. I knew before you left that a separation would cause endless grief for all of us. But I also knew that the misfortune of spending my life with you as your wife but not loved by you would feel even more endless. Dear Fritz, we should never have married. We should have stayed friends, and we may have both led happier lives. And indeed, we love each other more like friends now. We love each other since we are most intimately related through the children we have together. But we do not love each other like lovers who both feel that their desire for each other fills their existence and can only be satisfied by the touch of pure lips when they kiss. My endless love for you was not able to convince you of this truth and—all alone—it had to bleed to death. Through our dear good little children, we could have found a lost Eden of pure love again—and we still can, my dear Fritz. And once you are possibly with us again, let the living word⁴³ help us find out how and what we feel. I would like to chat with you much longer, but I am very exhausted after working on the boring translation. And Fessel⁴⁴ has strictly forbidden me to experience any kind of stress. I did not feel very well one night, and Maria and Booth took particularly good care of me. I’m now doing well again.

Emil wrote to Carl on Monday saying he had heard that I was ill and asking if we needed anything. I was touched by Emil’s brotherly love. He hadn’t received your letter yet. My correction in the Banner has set the entire press here in motion. Even the Seebote has rectified things now, so I hear.

I now have a pleasant little writing place in my bedroom. Maria used her well-known decorating talent to make it a lovely place for me here. I now have clean air, sunshine, and a nice view while writing. We are very much looking forward to letters from you. Me especially. Grandmother sends her regards and so do the others. I will celebrate Carl A[nneke]’s birthday with him tomorrow and bring him two nice glasses. I did take notice of your other comments. I will risk writing you again. And that’s why I won’t say farewell just yet.

Hold dear, your loving Mathilde.

Franziska Maria says⁴⁵ “comm hier Americaner Maria, und schreibe zu dein Leben.” Du bist ein bösewicht das was du bist.⁴⁶ Franziska Maria has conceived a “wonderful” affection for you since you went away. She persists in saying you are not cross.

We sit now at a “wonderful” table in our bedroom & “Maria”⁴⁷ writes & I plague her & kiss her half to death. We are not troubled by any masculine visitors except the Dr. & he comes every day. I think his health improves, as you know it is for his own good that he comes.

Ich mein lieb zu meiner Liebe, and write soon

Dein Americaner schelm⁴⁸

Maria

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, July 1859

My dear good Fritz!

Sunday morning

So now we probably do not stand on the same land. We’re no longer together on American soil! I hope to receive your last farewell letter today or tomorrow. Yesterday, sometime in the afternoon when I picked up your letter, Maria and Grandmother and I went for a walk to the lake. And my thoughts were traveling with you “across the blue sea.” If it safely carries you across, then I will bless it. “On Wings of Song”⁴⁹ is the melody I hear in my mind while the weather outside is quite stormy—I think I’m alone in the “land of the wind” and you have already arrived in more beautiful regions. I wonder whether you’ve received most of our letters before your departure! Excluding the letter that arrived yesterday, you still owe us half a dozen replies. There’s the lovely first letter that Maria wrote about how much I cried after your departure and how she tried to comfort me. And how Booth himself came on a carriage and pair and invited us—me, the children, Grandmother, and Maria—for a nice ride into the country. We drove for about 8 miles and visited farmers in a wonderful-smelling forest and a beautiful flower garden. They invited us for supper, and we ate plenty of maple sugar and drank maple syrup. We also had fruits and bread—everything was prepared in the traditional farmer’s way. It was already past 9 o’clock when we returned. Maria wrote to you the day after, and the day after that she wrote to you again.

Tuesday. I can’t get any sleep, and I don’t know whether it’s because I’m anxious about you or what it is. I got up at half past four this morning and began working on my translation. Maria was sound asleep and so were all of our little children. Percy’s school festival was held yesterday at Melms.⁵⁰ Maria and her Lili took the boat down there, and my little Hertha and I followed in an omnibus. It was a pity that it was such a cold day, but Percy enjoyed himself and his friend Mazzini⁵¹ was there too. My little Hertha never stopped holding my hand. She has great difficulty walking, and I think an operation is imminent now. A dark cloud looms over our communication. I see you haven’t received the letters we had written to you. On the second day after our sad farewell I had such an intense bout of cramps, and I was suddenly so deeply worried about our little children that I did not know what to do. I thought I would have permanent attacks now and that there was no hope of recovery. Additionally, I was overcome by the oppressive feeling that the Booths would constantly be burdened with taking care of me, etc. But now my worries have turned into the firm hope that I will get well again. As early as this week I will begin a health cure of sorts, meaning I will start drinking (an imitation of) Carlsbad mineral water.⁵² I started with a pre-cure, a different effervescent mixture without iron tincture, and it truly benefits me and helps me with my anxiety. As to my corpulence: I am very noticeably losing weight and Maria is already worried that I could lose my embonpoint⁵³—one of my characteristic features that she likes so much. I was very worried about Maria for several days, and I stayed up with her for an entire night because she was feeling such pain and disappointment. I helped her down the other side of that cliff, perhaps a bit roughly, but powerfully, because in the end her heart and being could have been shattered to pieces. I assume that her disloyal friend,⁵⁴ in his vanity, did not mention or show you the letter that I had already written. But this man just does not answer letters and does not return things that we’ve specifically asked for. It seems like we will have to take more extreme measures here. Maria’s health is much, much better. The calm that has returned after this resignation has helped her in her recovery. She looks very nice again, oh so pretty! She now wants a divorce more than ever before. She wants it because of her children, and she wants it for herself—and she is right. What will become of the trial, I cannot say.⁵⁵ Booth is behaving terribly.

On another day. This night—I always spend part of the night at the side of our dear little Hertha—she cuddled me, firmly held on to me, and almost shouted for joy: “My dear Papa.” She soon became aware that it was me and not you, pressed me to her heart as if to say that well, everything was fine then too.

And now today she tells Lilie that her Papa had spent the night sleeping next to her and then left again this morning. Naturally, I will not wake her from this wonderful dream. Whenever Lili jumps into her father’s arms, Hertha follows her, equally rejoicing in the prospect of seeing her father. And when she then sees Lili’s father and not her own, she quietly comes back into my arms. There’s so much desolation in her eyes! But what can be done? Percy speaks of you often, and he has now started drawing maps and has started drawing your route. He regularly attends school, but I don’t think he learns much. The institute⁵⁶ seems to me to be of little value. It was at the school festival that I came to this realization. Your second to last letter—and tomorrow I will pick up your farewell note—downright saddened me. I see how few resources you have left. Was it truly not possible to claim the money that Lexow⁵⁷ or Leslie owes us? After all, heaven knows whether I will receive payment from Leslie. I will not send him another part of my translation before both Hölzlhuber⁵⁸ and I have received our payment. I also haven’t received anything from Madison and other places yet. I’ve outfitted our children with new clothing. Maria is currently sewing two dresses for Hertha. Maria is always her loving self. Several nights ago, she revealed something interesting to me. Something that she has never told anyone ever before, neither Booth nor B[iedermann].⁵⁹ And only at my request would she allow me to tell you that she is the descendant of an Indian. This revelation was so amusing to me; the manner in which she disclosed this, her pride, and then also her self-denial. It cost us half a night of sleep. I think her great-grandmother was a daughter of the forest, one of the last Mohicans.⁶⁰ Her great grandfather, a Corsican, married the daughter of a tribal chief. I told her that you had said before that Indian blood was running through her veins. She’s happy that you did not say that to her, because she would have hated you for it. She says her ancestry has caused her much sorrow her entire life and that her evil mother always blamed all evil in her on her Indian heritage.

Why did you call me “you sweet thing”?⁶¹ You know I am not. Was I ever “sweet” to you? Tell me that Mr. Fritz! Mary. Is that a greeting over the See?⁶² What you think? Yes, it is. Never mind! That is sweet consolation!!

You see that she’s lost nothing of her humor, not even after I just received a letter from Biedermann.

Franziska Maria is “wonderful” kind and lovely to you now you are away, “never mind” so long as you are not here—ist sie sehr sehr böse!⁶³ She can write the truth about herself which it would be impolite in me to do.

You see, dear Fritz, ever since the playful Indianae⁶⁴—I won’t call her by any other name now—took up my pen, all decency has vanished from my letter. As I wrote before, B[iedermann] has sent a letter and in it he declares in his terribly confusing writing style that he would never stop loving her, but that he is aware that he cannot reunite with her and so on. It did have a considerable impact on Maria because she told me he could not stop loving her the same way she couldn’t stop loving him and so on. I wonder how this whole romance novel is going to end. Grandmother is her old self. Johanna and Emil are happy together, and that’s all. Carl Anneke complains a lot, and just like Krues expressed it at the festival,⁶⁵ he looks like he takes his medicine.⁶⁶

I can’t think of anything else—oh, Mr. Fritz⁶⁷—your picture and mine hang opposite each other at Grosmother’s—They look wonderful—and smile very sweetly on each other, as we never did. Franziska & I are going with the Editorial convention to Grand Rapids⁶⁸ to night. We shall return Saturday morning. We saw Dr. Kane’s Panorama⁶⁹ last night. I have a picture of Grandmother which looks like the Devil.

Well, I will send this letter to Beust.⁷⁰ Please send my kind regards to him and all of his loved ones. You also have to send my regards to Ottilie Kapp, maiden name Rappard, who now lives in Zürich.⁷¹ I will keep sending all subsequent letters to Beust. We are looking forward to your first letter after you’ve hopefully safely reached European shores. You will find helpful friends in London—I have no doubt. Kinkel⁷² and Freiligrath are there, and they are certainly not weary. For your sake, I will hope for the best.

I was invited to the excursion of the editors’ conference held here beginning yesterday. It has been decided to travel to Grand Haven and Grand Rapids together. We will talk about you often, and I will be thinking of you as you’ve recently passed both of these places. Your letters, all of them with no exception, and your curl of hair have their special little place in our home. I often go there with Hertha and Percy and tell them about you. The children will not forget you. Farewell, dear Fritz.—Stay healthy!

Think of us and send my love to Father⁷³—and to my homeland that I will probably never see again. We keep your little pictures with your letters. One beautiful morning—before we’d found this safe asylum for them—I caught Hertha who had put them in her little drawer to slide them back and forth. When I caught her doing that, she suddenly had a sad expression on her little face and said she wanted to drive Papa around. The N.Y. Demokrat has dedicated an obituary to you.⁷⁴ The Banner is still in press today and has not been published yet.

Farewell, farewell, farewell.

Your loving Tilla.

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, [June or July 1859]

Beloved Fritz!

How long it’s been since we’ve last heard from you! All last week I went for the mail in vain, hoping that the letter you promised to send from Southhampton⁷⁵ would be there. But I always came back home empty-handed and with a heavy heart. Hopefully, you will have received our letter upon your arrival in Zürich. Nothing or nothing much has happened in our lives since then. I am preoccupied with my little children, my Maria, and my work. Nothing’s changed regarding Booth. His trial may be adjourned for 2 weeks. Grandmother was ill but is now healthy again. Little Hertha is a dear little heart. She is beginning to express less desire to see you, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten about you. Her little feet aren’t getting any better unfortunately, and an operation has become necessary. As soon as my resources allow it, we will no longer wait on that. I had two new pairs of shoes made for her already, but neither is good enough for her to wear. I carry her in my arms much of the time. Percy is a little more industrious since I’ve taken him out of the Engelmann school and now that he attends Zündt’s school.⁷⁶ The new school is certainly a little more expensive, but I am much calmer now that I know he has better supervision.

I suppose Franzisk[a] Maria wishes very sweet to you. I suppose, also, you don’t know that “Mr. Augustus”⁷⁷ and Dr. Munk⁷⁸ are in love with her! Maria—

While I was putting the children to bed, Maria’s playful nature got the better of her again and she played this prank on me. I now continue in all seriousness. Percy is busy until 6 o’clock in the evening. He speaks about you with a longing smile on his face; and he hopes that you will return to us soon. My dear Maria and I never leave each other for a moment. We love each other, and we share both joy and sorrow like sisters. In the mornings I now drink my imitation Carlsbad mineral water, take a short walk, and begin my work after breakfast. I’m translating the novel for Leslie, and I receive 3 dollars for 3 columns every week. As to the old debt: I have not yet received a cent from him and not from Lexow either, whom I’d pressed for 1½ dollars per column. Neither did Cramer⁷⁹ remunerate me for the translation, nor have I been able to collect money elsewhere. I had plenty of expenses, however. My cure always costs money—But why tell you about these petty matters? I have not had one of my bad seizures again—the one I had after your departure when I had to alarm the entire house. Franziska Maria has done for tonight.

Yours as ever M. B.

Fritz Anneke to Mathilde Franziska Anneke

Zürich, July 1, 1859

My beloved Mathilde!

What memories I’ve relived since yesterday! I’m at the guesthouse “tiefen Brunnen.” I’m staying in the same room we stayed in 10 years ago. And I think only and only of that time. My eyes always darken here, and now my paper is getting wet, my hands are shaking, and I cannot make any progress writing.

I was just at the garden by the lake, and I plucked a little purple rose from which I’m sending petals enclosed, as well as a leaf from the grapevine stocks where little Fritz learned how to walk and where he always picked grapes! The beautiful garden and house look just like back in those days. And the farmyard also looks the same. This is where little Fritz and I were looking for fruit and where he uttered his first word: “tree.”

Herr Coßmann⁸⁰ and his wife recognized me immediately. Life has treated them well. They have eight children now. … And farmhand Ernst is also still alive, but his wife is dead, and his Babettchen is married, and he himself has taken to drink. He’s apathetic and does not travel through Switzerland anymore. He was also unable to remember us. But when I showed him his own handwriting in a letter I had in my wallet, he recognized it.

Upon arrival in Strasbourg⁸¹ yesterday afternoon I could neither find Father nor a letter from him. And then I went to the Montagne Verte⁸² immediately. The innkeeper on the other bank of the River Ill recognized me at once. I saw our old house there as well, just from the outside, and the places on the Ill where we went swimming, boating, and fishing. And the meadow where little Karoline ran toward us saying: “the little animal is here!” Little Karoline is also dead and so is her mother, Frau Münch.⁸³ They died in Africa. And our good old friend Dr. Lobstein who had invited us to a farewell “democratic breakfast”?⁸⁴ Death carried him off mercilessly also.

I soon turned my back on Strasbourg. When I returned from the Montagne Verte and came back to the inn “Rebstock,” I received a letter from Father telling me that he could not come to Strasbourg on account of passport problems and because he was overwhelmed with work with no one to fill in for him. He would come visit me in Zürich if at all possible, and if not, he would send me a letter to Zürich at any rate. I now expect him today or tomorrow. If he does not come, I will travel to Italy the moment I have the resources. I had $41 in Milwaukee and a total of $61 with Emil’s contribution. And now my little savings have melted down to 65 francs or $13. I cannot get far with that kind of money. Including the advance payment to Schwedler⁸⁵ for the journey, $35, I have spent $83 since I left Milwaukee. I have economized a great deal, but the long stays in different places, several purchases, and some random expenses, e.g. $2 for passport matters, expensive prices here and there, and all of that quickly melted away my savings.

My dear Mathilde, I need to refer you to my newspaper correspondence to read about most of my travel experiences. I must economize with my time as much as with my money. I do not devote any time to mere amusement. I only focus on necessary travel and the collection of writing material. I have material again now for a hundred correspondences, but most of it would be relevant for literary papers only. With this letter I will mail my first correspondence to the Free Democrat—the one I began in Strasbourg but was unable to complete there. You will like it, and the readers of that paper too, as long as they are not offended a little in their American arrogance. I will enclose a little note to you just like I did before when sending correspondences to the Sentinel, [Illinois Staatszeitung], N.Y. Demokrat, and Westliche Blätter.⁸⁶ I will now first write to the Atlas⁸⁷ and then the papers in Detroit, etc. I had my laundry cleaned for an extremely low price in Strasbourg. It took four hours, and I received it looking better than ever before. I left the place yesterday morning at 7 and arrived here around 6 in the evening. I saw Father Rhine only for a moment in Basel⁸⁸ when we drove in an omnibus from one train station to the next. And then at the last stop in France I had to show my passport. No one asked to see it in Switzerland. As I left Basel and continued my journey, I also saw Dornachbruck⁸⁹ from a distance where we climbed to the peak of that beautiful mountain and when we reached the top you put your arms around me. We then passed through Liestal, Aarau, and Baden.⁹⁰ It’s been a delightful journey.

I was standing here in the garden at the lakeshore for one hour looking at the blue-green water and the glassy surface. I was looking at the nice little steamers, the clumsy boats, all the beautiful houses and villages on both sides of the lake, and the mountain chains to the right and to the left.

The top of the old Uetliberg,⁹¹ which we climbed together during a romantic nighttime excursion, was covered in a mist of clouds. The other surrounding mountains could only be seen when a ray of light somehow found its way through this wall of fog and clouds.

Oh, that dull and dreary country, “where, in freedom’s mighty stable stalled alike is every clown.”⁹² How is it even possible to stay there for such a long period of time when all of the world’s treasures can be found on this side of the ocean? If I shall return, then only to come for you. My numerous arrangements to write newspaper correspondences will be an optimal chance for me to provide for us working from here permanently. I will be able to keep many of them for good, and then I can build on them, and little by little I will be able to make new arrangements in Germany and maybe England. Maybe I will even try to seek correspondence arrangements in Germany. I will write you more about this another time.

After a long search, I found Beust last night. He does not live in the former inn by the lake anymore. He now lives a little further up and closer to the city. Beust, Anna,⁹³ and their two handsome boys are faring well. He has 5 boarders and a school with about 50 pupils. They were very disappointed that I did not board with them from the start, and they wanted to keep me there without further ado. But I did return to my guesthouse “tiefen Brunnen” late at night in pitch-black darkness, walking on mountain and forest paths. Everyone was sound asleep when I arrived. In general, people here carefully put out all lamps and go to bed at 9 o’clock.

I was interrupted by Anna Beust at this point. She came in a carriage to take me away from my guesthouse and welcome me to her home, where I’m now sitting in my room after lunch, writing this letter to you. I have received Father’s letters now: one for me, one for Fritz Beust, and one for Anna Beust. I am very upset about his letters. As I expected, Father will not come because urgent work keeps him there. He doesn’t send me any money either, but rather complains about difficult times, losses etc. His health is very weak. He speaks ill of me in most terrible ways in his letters to Fritz Beust and to his wife. He writes that I have been playing nothing but silly games since 1845 and that I just betrayed him again by adventurously and blindly rushing into a war trying to write correspondences. In his letters, he asks them to keep me from going. I assume that this is also the reason why he refuses to give me money. Anna Beust, who looks as youthful as ever and is just as cheerful and buoyant as in the olden days, was outraged by Father’s letters. Then and there, she wrote him a response, six pages long, and she read him the riot act. I am now stranded here, because I can’t travel to Italy with my 65 francs. I would get to the border at best, and then I would need to rely on begging and robbing.

But what hurts my feelings is that this thwarts my plan, which was so well thought out and had worked so well until now. It is mortifying that I am now experiencing this uncomfortable humiliation with the papers I’ve contacted. The only thing I can do now is to write as many articles from here as possible and ask the well-to-do newspaper editors for advances. It will certainly take four weeks until I can collect some money, probably 5 or 6. In case you have requested and received money from Börnstein⁹⁴ after reading my earlier letter from Southampton, and if you are in pocket, I ask you to send me something. But please send it to F. Beust because in the end there could be a happy coincidence, and I could acquire resources and then would have left already before the arrival of your reply. American bills of exchange, however, probably have to be taken care of here so they can be turned into money or Italian currency. I will earn a handsome income from my Milwaukee correspondences. The traditional Eidgenöss’sches Freischießen⁹⁵ will be held here again and starts the day after tomorrow on July 3. It will provide me with plenty of writing material.—Tomorrow, it will be three weeks since I left American soil. And this means I should have received letters from you a long time ago. I expected a letter from you to arrive with the Hamburg steamer that landed in Southampton two days after the steamer that I took. And in fact, long since then another steamer has arrived in Liverpool. Did the damn, negligent American mail play another trick on us?—I must close now, my dear Mathilde, because I have to write to Maria and the children and then need to work on my correspondences right away.

Farewell, my dear, dear Mathilde. You won’t receive another longer, direct letter for some time now, but the little notes, similar to the first four, will just keep coming to you very often. Kiss the dear children from me and send my best to Grandmother, Karl, Emil, Henriette,⁹⁶ Johanna, Booth, and everyone asking about me. Anna Beust, as well as Bertha Lipka⁹⁷ and their mother, who live close by, send their special greetings to Karl. Beust and his wife also send you their warm regards. Bertha Lipka looks very old and very lean. As I had expected, Fritz Beust is very well-informed about the war and he has splendid maps, statistical notes etc. The Swiss press, as small as it is, does provide good material about the war, and so reporting about it from here is going rather well. And not to forget, I recommend that you use quite thin paper for your letters, because the French mail only delivers ¼ ounce for standard postage.

Yours, Fritz.

Mary Booth to her mother Adeline Corss

Milwaukee, July 3, 1859
(English original)

My dear mother:

We received your letter yesterday. I will send Jane the music by Lorenzo.⁹⁸ My Stars! You ask “where is the money coming from to go to Italy”—that’s the question! I should like first to see even one dollar. Sherman pays every cent he gets for debts & lawyers. He has now engaged a man, (with whom he has been closeted all day) to hunt up evidence for him—against the girl, (& me, too, I suppose). Madam Anneke came up stairs & found him in our bed room,⁹⁹ talking with the girl who was making the bed. & The bed in a radiant condition. We both being (nix¹⁰⁰)—Sherman had sent him up—but I tell you he had to catch it most awfully, as he speaks German[.] Mad. A. fired off at him tremendously in German. She asked him how he dared to come in our sleeping room & marched him off quick. He is a fine looking man of good presence, about 55 years old. He is to go to the Cooks¹⁰¹ & pretend to be an enemy of B. & find out all he can, and report to B.

An elegant Sundays work! and he is to work at such things all the time until the trial, which is to commence one week from to-morrow. The day is now set. S. pays this man $25 & must raise this week one thousand dollars for his lawyers—where he is to get it I cannot say, nor imagine. Mr. Arnold¹⁰² told S. to employ this man. What do you think—he was on the jury that convicted him in the Slave Case. A. said that when there was not Evidence enough, this man would see that there was in some way or other.

Mrs. Merrill¹⁰³ looks like a gohst “being” so “sick” for fear of having to testify. She is really sick on account of it. I have only seen her three times—and then not long. Madam Anneke dont think it is good for me to talk about it with her, or any one more than is need. Mary¹⁰⁴ thinks you ought to be here by all means, but I do not feel that I shall be brought up, although she does. She says I am deceived in thinking all will be right in regard to me—but I do not feel afraid. Madam Anneke will go to the trial all the time with an old German editor, & if I am spoken off wrong she will attend to it, & she can influence S. to quit it, or she will make a fuss that he wont like. She has talked to him, & now he is better than a few days ago.

When he is not, then I am sick—I am now about as well as when you were here.

If it should be necessary for you to come, which I cannot think it will, I will telegraph to you.

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, July 15–18, 1859

Beloved Fritz! Percy came home from the post office yesterday afternoon with the very first little letter assuring me that you are on firm ground again. Schwedler sent it to me with a few friendly lines and noted that at your special request he will send me the weekly N.[Y.] Demokrat starting with the first one that includes your correspondence. The 6 rose petals you sent and the news that you were busy drinking wine made all of us very happy, including Maria and myself. We received another message from you yesterday evening when I got your letter from Southhampton only 2 hours later—the one you wrote on the ship. Grandmother just came in while I was reading your letter, and then we were both just so glad that you had happily made it to the other side of the Atlantic. It was a family celebration. I did send Booth to the Sentinel offices right away to see whether they had received your correspondence and enclosed little note to me. The answer was no. He was waiting impatiently for it and said if there was anything he could help me with—if I wanted to travel and so on—I only needed to ask him. The [Illinois Staatszeitung] sent me your enclosed little note with the 6 rose petals today.

The first of your correspondences that I thus read was the one printed in the [Illinois Staatszeitung]. It is about ¾ of a column long, and I like it very much. I cut out every one of your articles, and Maria has taken on the task of “getting” them into a large binder. St. Ruppius¹⁰⁵ may have taken the correspondence that was sent to the Westliche Blätter with him to St. Louis. Or he may not have received it yet. That is to say that Rup[pius] stealthily left for St. Louis yesterday morning. And as Zündt tells me, he will continue the paper there under the direction of Börnstein (?) (and this could be true). Z[ündt] is supposed to provide articles for him from here. And Ruppius did not pay the poor Märklin¹⁰⁶ for his work on the last two issues of the paper. Quite generally speaking, it is a curious case with the papers these days. I was in need of money and requested the 3 dollars that the Atlas owes me. The new manager, Herr Otterburg¹⁰⁷ (because Cramer was dismissed from this position), has responded to me that instead of payment I had received the Atlas free of charge for quite some time now. And about the Banner: The Gradaus¹⁰⁸ is now published under the name Volksblatt. Herzberg is the owner.—But I shall now get back to writing about our family celebration. My little money dilemma did not last long because Lexow, whom I had asked for 1½ [dollars] per column, has sent me $25 for “Frauenbilder,” my piece on the perceptions of women. He has also sent 2½ dollars for four correspondences—in all, $35. I then bought a pair of new boots for Percy and a little doll for Hertha and told them that Papa had sent it. I paid my mailman and bought a summer hat—a pretty bold purchase as the hat is made of straw and has a wide brim. I also bought two bottles of wine [illegible] and we drank lemonade in your honor.

You are right to assume that little Percy still likes to sleep in. Hertha is the first one awake. Sunday mornings are the exception. He is never still in bed then when I get up. On Sundays, he is eager to do gymnastics and usually has already put on his Turner¹⁰⁹ outfit. I had it made for him, and he receives it every Sunday evening with the other clean laundry. On Sundays, he runs to Turner Hall with a piece of bread in his hand. He stays there until 10 or 11 o’clock. He enjoys going to Zuendt’s private school, and I sleep much better now that he is there. Little Hertha wants to go to school also and says: “Well, when I go to school, I too can make a little letter for my Papa.”

July 16.

My poor Maria is in bed. She is suffering from a swollen face. She had previously been pretty healthy for some time, although she did have to deal with many heartaches. Your stories about Biedermann did not please her in the least. She says you’re jealous and that’s why you are seeing her lost friend through black-colored glasses. The former may be true, but her conclusion is not. Booth’s case will come before the Court in 8 days. In that regard, things have changed as he has now taken the case from his former lawyer Arnold and has handed the case over to Bottler,¹¹⁰ who is Mary’s lawyer. In what way this is supposed to improve the situation for Maria I dare not say yet. Bottler, though, has few values, like most men. He is just a man of a more elegant reputation than others. And he has always shown his sympathy for B[ooth], more so than he has shown interest in the actual work Maria hired him to do. Be that as it may! Deep in her heart Maria has no other wish but to free herself from this lewd husband in law, and indeed, she is right. Even if he denies her and the children any support—she is still right. I would not want all the world to see him as my lawfully wedded husband either. We are aware of his good qualities—you and I both. But the evil instincts that lead him to seduce innocent girls—you may not have heard about his lewd desires as much as I am hearing about them right now. He is evil in the true sense of the word. He keeps his distance from me—he is afraid of me. He has not further provoked me, but I have still assumed a somewhat firmer attitude since you left. He has not been allowed to enter my room, which is always locked, and so on.

The reason why he refused to employ Arnold again is probably lack of money. He was supposed to pay him 1,000 doll now, and then again after the trial and his release. Things are looking grim when it comes to his money. He only helps his family with some expenses and does not pay for others at all. And this worries me. I happily share all I have with Maria, and so does she. How much will poor Maria have left after the trial has ended? I don’t know, and she does not know either. And yet—this much is true—I will remain her true friend. I will never leave her. She will never leave me.

Your correspondence for the Sentinel has just arrived. He¹¹¹ sends me the little letter. Your article will be published on Monday (today is Saturday). The Free Democrat is waiting expectantly. I think he will be the first one to pay. I haven’t heard from your favorite, the [Westliche Blätter]. The [Criminal-Zeitung],¹¹² with its fabricated articles supposedly reporting directly from the war zone, is an institution. And this is why people believe these articles are real. I am looking forward to your correspondence in the Staats-Demokrat.¹¹³ The Atlas’s Herr de Longe¹¹⁴ tells me they have long been waiting for your correspondence and is asking whether you will write to them. Today, I found my last correspondence in the [Criminal-Zeitung], the one about the editors’ conference excursion to Grand Rapids, my most favorite little city. This tour brought us much joy. The hosts of the Railroad Comp[any] made sure we had all modern conveniences. Maria was rather cheerful, the weather was beautiful that day, and so was the blue lake. We were gone for two nights and one day. Hölzlhuber’s sketch and my reading exercise for Frank Leslie are both ready. He has asked for it, but he will not receive it until he’s paid what he still owes us. Booth wrote to him about it on our behalf. Upon your arrival in Zürich, you will hopefully have received my letter, the first one I directed there. You will have met with Father in Strasbourg. I look forward to hearing about it. Carl Anneke arrived in Grand Rapids yesterday, and he is daydreaming about moving there. He will meet with Emil there.

Monday morning.

I just read your English correspondence “from our European Correspondent” with great ease. Nothing—not a word—is unclear to me. The English is much easier to understand than my story about Eliot Granger.¹¹⁵

During breakfast, Booth tells me: “the correspondence is rather good.” They only had to fix your “Germanic English” at the Sentinel. Maria thinks the correspondence is too dry and your proletarian pride too obvious. There was no need to let the fashionable people know that you were traveling in second class. She would have liked the correspondence to be somewhat more ornamental for the ladies. By the way, she says, “your English is quite nice.” About local news, dear Fritz: The beautiful Youngs-Hall¹¹⁶ lies in ruins. Gothic Hall has also disappeared, and our friend Negmann¹¹⁷ is without bread again. The European war brings their elite—their high society—to us once again. The Wendt family¹¹⁸ will return in September and Finkler¹¹⁹ and his wife and all the rest of them as well. I am now reading that the [Westliche] Blätter has indeed merged with the Anzeiger des Westens¹²⁰ with Ruppius as co-editor of the Anzeiger. Well, that should be enough mergers for now, don’t you think?

I also just read your third correspondence in the New Yorker Democrat, “From Our Own Correspondent,” and that’s my favorite one. My dear lovely chatterbox is playing around me all morning and rattling on in English. I wish you could hear it. You have probably never heard such cute English! Even Maria notes how nice Hertha’s English is. She is such a lovely smart little girl! Once you’re in a place and position to receive a letter from me then and there, I will send you another nice little letter from the children. I did receive the evergreen branchlet from the graves of our dead children.

Don’t forget our rose petals, and keep sending us some little curls. Percy is busy looking for bugs, and he already has a little collection on his wooden board. And now that I need to mail this letter, I’ve misplaced Percy’s letter to you and just cannot find it. But you shall soon have one from him. I will send another letter soon after this one.

Next week will probably bring us many events, and then I will write again immediately. Naturally, I haven’t received any remuneration so far. I plan on including a list in every letter, telling you which payments I have received.

Now have you gotten signs of life from some of our friends? How glad Father must have been to see you.

How did you fare with your money? Will you soon be able to have bills of exchange sent to you (from each one individually)? How did you find the Beusts? Tell me about our old friends in your next letter and whether you’ve heard from Franziska.¹²¹

I’ve just received a letter from Dr. Brandis,¹²² and he writes that Leslie cannot have the last installment of the English novel. That means that I now have to end my work on the translation—unless I feel inclined to write the final part of the novel myself. If only the story wasn’t put together in this terrible American manner, then it would be my pleasure to do this. But with all the rowdy pack that has already appeared and that I need to keep in the story, I think it will be difficult for me to finish writing the novel. I am at chapter 10 with the translation and would need to write twenty more chapters to bring about a reasonable ending. As courageous as ever, and in heartfelt love, yours, Mathilde.

Mary Booth to her mother Adeline Corss

Milwaukee, July 17, 1859
(English original)

My dear Mother:

I received your letter day before yesterday, but being sick all day yesterday with neuralgia in my face I could not answer it until now. My face is swolen & looks awful, but not worse than it feels. S.’s trial has not come off yet, & there is no certainty whatever when it will. So you need not worry yourself any more about it. When it comes let it come & never mind it.

S—n¹²³ has discharged Mr. Arnold and taken Mr. Butler in his place. I am very glad, as Mr. Butler has his interest at heart, and Mr. A. had not. It is the best thing that could have been done. People are beginning to have very much sympathy for him, owing to the belief that he is a poor injured individual & that he was drive[n] to it. He says Hortensius Paine¹²⁴ said yesterday that he ought not to have lived with me another day, after I informed of him, & if he had not[,] no jury in the world would have convicted him, knowing the circumstances. He is now in friendship with Dr. Baker,¹²⁵ who, if it were nescessary, would have enough of manufactured evidence for him. Mr. Butler has no doubt that he cannot be convicted. He believes he will come out right. He grows more & more sure of his case every day. I mean S—n—he thinks that he is a horribly injured man, & says the world will soon know it. He says all the time that I have brought it all upon him &c. & just so sure as I am a little more sick then he begins again.

It is certain that we should starve were it not for Madam Anneke. She buys medicin for me, & has now got for me nine bottles of wine. Sherman has never a bit of money—not a little. There is no Church in St. Paul’s. Mr. Richmond has gone. Spalding preaches in Mr. Thomson’s Church.¹²⁶ Sherman has employed a man who was on the “Jury of Decons”¹²⁷ which convicted him before to hunt up testimony of the girl’s bad character for him, & he now says his strong hope for him is that my appearance at the last, to hear the closing plea, will turn the jury. Mr. Butler says so too. He said to me “you thought he was guilty, & that you did right, but now you have changed your mind, you believe now he was not, & I shall say. She comes here as his friend, his wife, &c.—& for her sake & her children’s you must not convict him” &c. What do you think of that? Lorenzo says I never must do it, nobody would respect me. & Madam Anneke says I shall not. She will go herself, & see what is said & done. She is not afraid of any body, & she is too firm in character to be hurt by anything. Lorenzo says I ought to go East when he goes, that nothing else would do but that is utterly impossible. He is afraid I shall have to go to court, if I am sick or not. I see Mrs. Merrill very seldom. I am not strong enough to go out much, & I don’t like to go there at that house where there are so many low men boarders. Mrs. Cook¹²⁸ raves now against Mary¹²⁹ & I. She says are as bad as S—n &c.—She is a “poor creatur” & has to take much morphine to keep her alive. A Baptist minister who is editor at Grand Rapids came over here to attend the trial & staid three days. He will come again, & as he is a good, fine man I am glad of it, as he diverts S—n’s mind.

Sherman says he shall not live with me ever another day if he is convicted!—That tickles me! How could he when he was in States Prison? If he is convicted he will move for a new trial. We have all the time new girls,¹³⁰ but it can’t be helped. I talked with this one before she came & told her all how I expected her to act &c.—

Tell Ella I have two nightgowns of both kinds for her, only one is made yet. I will send them by Lorenzo. I have urged S. to send money for Ella.

Fritz Anneke to Mathilde Franziska

Samedan, Switzerland, July 19, 1859

Beloved Mathilde!

Beust and I have been here in this snowy region¹³¹ since the 16th, staying with Emmermann,¹³² who has been working here as a forester since he traveled the region years ago. The peace in Italy badly hurt my correspondence arrangements. Even if I had rushed there as soon as possible, I would not have reached Italy in time for the Battle of Solferino on June 24.¹³³ We just landed in Southampton that day. And then while I was in Zürich, there came this unfortunate ceasefire and a few days later this even more unfortunate peace. I would need to go to Italy to have at least some kind of justification to work on my correspondences from Europe. It will take a while until things are in order and “regulated” again in Italy. And until then, there will be many difficulties and battles. And to witness these firsthand would be my main task there. Whether the revolution will raise its head in Italy now will largely depend on whether the French troops stay. If they do stay and if they function as execution troops¹³⁴ to suppress the general discontent of Italians with the disgraceful peace, which can be seen most distinctly in the resignation of the Cavour Ministry; and if the execution troops are used to reinstall the princes of Tuscany, Modena, and Parma, as well as to recapture the Papal States for the Pope—well, then there is not much that the Italians can do about it in the interim, unless the French soldiers consider themselves above such fetch-and-carry tasks. According to an authenticated message that’s arrived from Milan, many French officers have broken their swords to pieces and have removed their epaulettes and medals out of anger over this inglorious peace. As may be imagined, Garibaldi¹³⁵ and particularly Mazzini are not idle now. But what they are actually doing now and what their plans are?—It’s impossible to learn anything about them here. The only things I hear are the most uncertain of rumors. Authenticated messages do not arrive here until late.

I departed together with Beust on the 14th. We took the steamer to Rapperswyl at the end of Lake Zürich. Then we took the railroad to Chur,¹³⁶ and from there we walked to Churwalden on the same night. It was a pleasant journey: First the beautiful Lake Zürich with its lovely shores, the ruins of the castle of the Count of Rapperswyl, which was destroyed by the Swiss many years ago. The ruins are located on a high peninsula in Lake Zürich. We had plenty of time to explore it. Then the wild mountains on both sides of the railroad tracks, the small Lake Walen with its rugged cliffs 4–5000 feet on high, Father Rhine in his youth, and the little city of Chur, located in a basin and completely embedded in giant hills. …

Mary Booth to her mother Adeline Corss

Milwaukee, August 4, 1859
(English original)

My dear Mother:

The trial has now been going on for 8 days.

Mr. Carson,¹³⁷ & Carpenter have made their pleas. Mr. Palmer is now giving his. Ryan will close to-morrow.

S. has not a bit of Fear. They have succeeding in crossing the girl’s testimony, & she, poor thing, dare not tell all—& although S. expects an acquittal, I expect the jury to disagree. I dare not send you the papers with testimony for fear Jane should get hold of them. It will come out in a book. Then I will send it.

Tell Ella that Lillian has a new plaything—a little mouse. It runs all over her hands & arms, & much to my horror, she kisses it, & crys when it runs away. She is a very good & mild child now. I am not very well myself, & dont know nothing what to do. The Dr. comes to see me every other day.

Give my love to Ella & all. Yours aff Mary.

Mathilde Franziska Anneke to Fritz Anneke

Milwaukee, August 2–17, 1859

My dear Fritz!

It was just recently on July 22 that I celebrated the day of birth of our unforgettable child, our Fritz. I celebrated the day we reunited with him in Strasbourg.¹³⁸ My dear Maria and I had driven out to her gravesite¹³⁹ alone. And there in the shade of the large vine-clad oak, I had a good cry and told her what a difficult day it had been for me. Returning from the hills, I steered the horse in the direction of the post office and received your dear letter from Zürich—the first one from that El Dorado of wistful memories. I shed tears, bitter tears, all evening reading your letter. I felt so overpowered by memories of little Fritz when I got to the part about the dark roses and little grapevine leaves. I saw our child again in his green dress and little blue velvet skirt—his little pale face. And I remembered how he gained weight drinking that good Swiss milk every day—oh God, how much has happened since then! We have buried our hopes. We have buried our children. All—all is lost. Nothing is left now of the things I had hoped for in those days. It was all a dream—a dream! And now I live in a very different world than back in those days: different children—different loved ones—different flowers—different lands—different air—different soil—different home.¹⁴⁰ I think I have lived out four different lives already!—Let me stop here and return to the meager little reality that we have left. If you ever had a successful plan, dear Fritz, it was this one! If only this premature peace does not abort it. Now that you are stranded, for the moment anyway, this peace came at a good time. At least we here felt that it made more sense for you to be in Zürich than in an abandoned war zone. The negotiations will, without a doubt, be interesting enough for some time, and everyone here is terribly anxious to hear more. …

But my hair stood on end reading about the way Father greeted you in the homeland! It is a real miracle that such a welcome did not cause you to hate the entire Fatherland. These philistines—this philistinism! God knows that I would rather put up with the bears and wolves here in the jungle than to breathe the air of our homeland filled with artificiality and hidden brutality. No doubt Anna¹⁴¹ has helped you take revenge for this. Such revenge is not worth anything to me. After all, we’ve had to swallow many such insults. I will never forget the time of your imprisonment because people blamed me for it. And then later a gift of money was supposed to help me get over this insult—I will never forget about this. And now you have to suffer another humiliation just like this. Poor Fritz—the love for your father and the longing to see him one more time drove you to abandon your second home and cross the ocean again.—Booth is standing at the gates. You won’t believe this original yet despicable odd fellow! I believe he will be released. At any rate, as evil as he is, I don’t want to see him in state prison.

Maria is doing better than I had anticipated. Her name has barely been mentioned in the trial so far. We’ve had three days of this trial already—and I think there will be three more and then it still won’t be over. … Well, I certainly have what I need, but it’s too bad that life is so expensive. B[ooth] himself is without money entirely. It’s almost completely up to me to take care of this household. This has to change after the trial is over. How pleasant your stay in Zürich must be right now! How often I think about that beautiful country! Sometimes I feel as though I am homesick for the blue lake. And Herwegh¹⁴² was at the marksmen’s festival too! His poetry writing was awakened again by the Alpine glow. His poem is so nice! It was published in the papers here on July 6 and is attracting a wide audience. Send him my regards, will you!? Ask him if he’d like to send me poems. I would like to publish a German American almanac here and encourage German poets to participate! I would certainly find a publisher if poets like Herwegh would join forces. Our oleander is in bloom, looking beautiful and reminding us of you. Maria claims it belongs to her—I claim it belongs to nobody. I take good care of all my flowers.

Today is the second of August already. The Booth trial is in full swing. No one doubts that he will be released. I will let you know the result. The Banner is very piqued that you’re not sending correspondences, and the Atlas had also expected to have your first submission by now. This peace arrived at just the right moment for you. That is to say, I only hope that it will be a temporary one. The congress of envoys¹⁴³ will also be held in Zürich. Well, you should thank your lucky stars that you had to stay in Zürich. I wish you had written more about the marksmen’s festival. It made headlines in all the papers. There must be other correspondents in Switzerland reporting for our local papers.

August 3. I just received your dear little letter through the Michigan Journal. So, you did go to Italy—too late to see the war, but not too late to see Italy. You did the right thing in any case. I would have embarked on such a trip with the good magnificent Beust as well. Is the little man still so buoyant? Why don’t you send me pictures of the entire family when you get the chance? It’s Percy’s birthday soon, and I will give him nice presents on your behalf. Hertha asks me today: “Tell me, when are we going to see Papa in Italy? Are we going there by boat?” “Yes on a little ship floating on the water.” She says “wata.” If only you could hear her chattering.—

I think that it must have been a stormy time in Paris around the time of July 24.¹⁴⁴ I don’t think there can be an effective peace settlement without a popular uprising. All this hesitation that can be felt in the air in the streets of Paris! I trust that the July sun will ignite what has to be ignited.—I think your correspondence could be interesting enough even without the slaughter in Italy after all. All the papers seem in need of European news. I met Gallo¹⁴⁵ yesterday, and he was wondering “why Anneke does not write to us.” I told him your reasons. I did tell him there was hope that you would write to them, however. The Freie [Zeitung]¹⁴⁶ has forwarded me your little letter. Have they even received your correspondence? I will ask. The second correspondence for the Westliche Blätter has arrived here, but it hasn’t been published in the latest issue. In its stead, the quite nicely written excerpt about the sea travel taken from Bernays’s¹⁴⁷ travel account has been printed. Ruppius does not write anything about a third correspondence. He seems to have taken a dim view of your first two correspondences. And indeed, I would have too when it comes to the first one. I had not expected you to write such dull things. I haven’t read your second correspondence yet of course. You won’t see any payment for it, I can tell you that much. And whether Börnstein is going to send you the bill of exchange as I requested—I will have to wait and see. The noble Atlas does not pay you the three dollars it owes you. I have already spent some of the 15 dollars. It would not have been necessary if Leslie had paid me five dollars last week as he should have. Dr. Brandis sends a registered letter and writes that he’s sending five dollars enclosed—but there is nothing enclosed! If and where there is roguery involved here is anyone’s guess. …

August 17. Dear Fritz, if my letter arrives later than expected, then you just need to forgive me this time. I do not know myself why I did not complete the letter sooner. I cannot and should not sit for a long time. I feel so miserable after working for an hour. My liver disease can probably never be properly cured. The Booth trial lasted 11 days. The proceedings were most ambiguous in nature. No decent German who intends to keep a good reputation was present at the trial. And this is how it ended: There will be a second trial. The jury could not come to an agreement, 7 were in favor and 5 were against him. The second trial is supposed to start in 6 weeks. Poor Maria, more and more she feels the urgency to get away from him. She detests him because of his passions as much as she tolerates him like a sister because of his good elements and qualities. In reality, he does not have much interest in providing for her. He only shows interest in her when he can make her a slave to his vanity.—I’ve been busy preparing for Percy’s birthday these past several days. Your little picture has arrived, and he was happy about this personal note from you. Everything is ready now: an entirely new outfit, black pants, new boots (it only took him 4 weeks to ruin brand new boots), a new coat, 4 new shirts, a portemonnaie,¹⁴⁸ a little notebook, marbles, pencils, and writing books. Maria has invited company over for him tomorrow—our entire family, Booth’s family, Ida, Alma, Franklin, and two members of the Zündt family.¹⁴⁹ She will bake a cake and make fruit lemonade. Booth has bought 1/9 ts.¹⁵⁰ of kandy for this purpose and so on. I’m worried about our little fellow. He doesn’t listen, he is disorganized—he dreams all day. …

Farewell and do not forget us, your loving Mathilde.—

1. Mathilde to Franziska Hammacher, April 4, 1861, in “Ich gestehe, die Herrschaft der fluchwürdigen ‘Demokratie’ dieses Landes macht mich betrübt …”: Mathilde Franziska Annekes Briefe an Franziska und Friedrich Hammacher, 1860–1884, ed. Erhard Kiehnbaum (Hamburg: Argument Verlag mit Ariadne, 2017), 70.

2. Thomas Salsman was a friend of the Corss family who was taking the dress to Jane Corss. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 4th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 41, dwelling 315, family 329.

3. Salsman and his wife Abby had three-year-old twins. Ibid.

4. Possibly philanthropist Martha Mitchell, the wife of railroad magnate and financier Alexander Mitchell. Frances E. Willard and Mary A. Livermore, eds., A Woman of the Century (Buffalo: Charles Wells Mouton, 1893), 510–11.

5. A venue in central Milwaukee. Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, March 18, 1852.

6. Mathilde had actually lived in Newark, N.J.

7. Mary apparently means to include individual articles and poems in the count.

8. Elisabeth Giesler.

9. The adventures of Austrian travel writer Ida Pfeiffer (1797–1858) were famous enough for Henry Thoreau to mention in Walden. Encyclopædia Britannica, 11th ed. (New York: The Encyclopædia Britannica Company, 1911), 21:340; Henry Thoreau, Walden (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1854), 26.

10. No evidence of praise from these writers survives, but they were acquainted with Mathilde. The famous Jewish German poet Heinrich Heine (1797–1856) contributed to the Neue Kölnische Zeitung, which the Annekes edited in 1848 and 1849. Ferdinand Freiligrath (1810–1876) was another poet who championed German unification, publishing a newspaper with Karl Marx in Cologne in 1848. Friedrich von Sallet (1812–1843) was known for writing poems critical of religion. Manfred Gebhardt, Mathilde Franziska Anneke: Madame, Soldat und Suffragette: Biografie (Berlin: Neues Leben, 1988), 26, 74; Encyclopædia Britannica, 11:94–95; Daniel Jacoby, “Sallet, Friedrich von,” Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie (Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1891), 33:717–27.

11. Episcopalian priest James Cook Richmond was about to become rector of St. Paul’s Church in Milwaukee. Frank A. Flower, History of Milwaukee, Wisconsin (Chicago: Western Historical Company, 188), 865.

12. Possibly Henry W. Spalding, who was ordained as an Episcopalian priest in Milwaukee in 1860. Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, January 1, 1860.

13. These clues are not sufficient to identify Faxon.

14. Affectionately.

15. A town twenty miles west of Milwaukee.

16. College professor and one-time state geologist Edward Daniels lived in Ripon, Wisconsin. He had been arrested with Sherman after the Glover affair and continued to support him. Flower, History of Milwaukee, 250.

17. A widely used term for stabbing “nerve” pain. “Neuralgia,” OED Online, Oxford University Press, accessed July 30, 2020, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/126356.

18. Wisconsin’s capital lies eighty miles west of Milwaukee.

19. Johanna (“Fanny”) von Tabouillot had married Paul Störger and taken his surname. The couple did not live together consistently because Störger had business in Cuba and Fanny raised their children in Newark until moving to Milwaukee in 1866. There is only evidence that one of Fanny’s children was born before 1859, but perhaps another died. Mathilde to Franziska Hammacher, October 24, 1860, in “Ich gestehe, die Herrschaft der fluchwürdigen ‘Demokratie’ dieses Landes macht mich betrübt,” 41.

20. George Gordon Byron’s narrative poem “Mazeppa” (1819) details the ordeal of a soldier lashed to a wild horse. George Byron, The Complete Poetical Works, ed. Jerome J. McGann (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), 4:172–200.

21. Mathilde Franziska Anneke, Memoiren einer Frau aus dem badisch-pfälzischen Feldzuge (Newark, N.J.: Buchdruckerei von F. Anneke, 1853).

22. Mathilde’s approach to women’s rights differed from that of Anglo-American leaders such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony. American feminism during this period was associated with temperance, Protestant moralizing, and, sometimes, hostility to immigrants, none of which Mathilde endorsed. Yet her work with other feminists shows that she respected them as partners in a common struggle.

23. The most successful of the Forty-Eighters, Carl Schurz (1829–1906), would become a Union general in the Civil War, a U.S. senator from Missouri, and secretary of the interior. In 1849, he had been Fritz Anneke’s subordinate in the revolutionary forces in Baden, and when Mary wrote, he was working as a lawyer in Milwaukee and trying to win the Republican Party’s nomination for governor of Wisconsin. Schurz was a political ally of Sherman Booth, although the seduction charges ended their relationship. Hans L. Trefousse, Carl Schurz: A Biography, 2nd ed. (New York: Fordham University Press, 1998).

24. An adjutant is a senior military aide to a commanding officer.

25. If true, the paintings must date from Mathilde’s brief time as a religious writer in the late 1830s and early 1840s, before she became hostile to traditional religion. Karin Hockamp, “Von vielem Geist und großer Herzensgüte”: Mathilde Franziska Anneke, 1817–1884 (Bochum: Brockmeyer, 2012), 16–18.

26. We could not identify Jackson Davis.

27. Mary’s four-year-old daughter, whom she often called Lili.

28. The English-born undertaker Jonathan Crouch and his wife Rachael had a three-year-old daughter named Fanny. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 4th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 4, dwelling 38, family 32.

29. Mary’s other daughter, Mary Ella Booth, 9.

30. Fritz’s brother, Carl Anneke. The Annekes used the spellings Carl and Karl interchangeably.

31. Likely Emil Weiskirch, the husband of Mathilde’s sister Johanna.

32. The negotiations probably involved Fritz’s work as a correspondent. Booth had just sold the Milwaukee Free Democrat, one of the newspapers for which Fritz wrote. Jerome A. Watrous, Memoirs of Milwaukee County (Madison, Wisc.: Western Historical Association, 1909), 1:445–47.

33. A Michigan town almost due east of Milwaukee across Lake Michigan.

34. A town in Prussian Westphalia about forty-five miles west of Cologne.

35. Probably a relation by marriage to Mathilde’s sister Johanna Weiskirch.

36. A town in Prussian Westphalia not far from Dortmund.

37. Mathilde’s mother, Elisabeth Giesler.

38. Mary’s.

39. Mathilde had written regularly for the German-language edition of Frank Leslie’s famous Illustrated Newspaper since 1858. The popular weekly employed a more successful feminist writer, Louisa May Alcott, and was circulating an estimated twenty-five thousand copies of the German version alone by 1870. After Mathilde declined an invitation to work for free, Leslie visited her personally in Newark and agreed to pay her for her work. Maria Wagner, Mathilde Franziska Anneke in Selbstzeugnissen und Dokumenten (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1980), 90; Karl J. R. Arndt and May E. Olsen, German-American Newspapers and Periodicals, 1732–1955: History and Bibliography (Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer, 1961; reprint, New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1965), 360.

As later letters explain, Mathilde translated a serialized novel from one of Frank Leslie’s periodicals into German. The original author did not, in fact, finish the story, so Mathilde completed it herself. She published it as Das Geisterhaus in New-York (The haunted house in New York) under her own name without identifying the original author or acknowledging that the text was mostly a translation. Das Geisterhaus in New-York (Jena and Leipzig: Hermann Costenoble, 1864).

40. Throughout, column (“Spalte”) refers to a column of type rather than the whole piece of writing.

41. The Seebote started as a Catholic-friendly alternative to Milwaukee’s secular German-language press in 1851. By 1859, it was essentially a Democratic newspaper. Alison Clark Efford, “The Appeal of Racial Neutrality in the Civil War–Era North: German Americans and the Democratic New Departure,” Journal of the Civil War Era 5 (2015): 68–96.

42. Milwaukee’s largest German-language newspaper in 1859, the Wisconsin Banner und Volksfreund supported Democratic candidates. Alison Clark Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship in the Civil War Era (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 72.

43. “Das lebendige Wort” is a biblical allusion. It is not clear whether Mathilde was being ironic or simply using a common turn of phrase.

44. Mecklenburg-born Christian Fessel (1801–1881) was a physician who had been involved in liberal dissent in Europe from the 1820s to 1848. Louis Frederick Frank, The Medical History of Milwaukee, 1824–1914 (Milwaukee: Germania Publishing Company, 1915), 18–22.

45. Mary inserted her own comment in mixed English and German into Mathilde’s letter, calling her “Franziska Maria.”

46. “Franziska Maria says ‘come here American Maria and write about your life.’ You are a villain, that’s what you are.”

47. Here Mary is referring to Mathilde.

48. “I will be nice to my love, and write soon, your playful American.”

49. Heinrich Heine’s poem “Auf Flügeln des Gesanges” (1823) became popular after Felix Mendelssohn set it to music in 1834. In English translation, it is known as “On Wings of Song.” Heinrich Heine, Buch der Lieder (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1827), 117–18; Larry Todd, Mendelssohn: A Life in Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 309, 330; Hal Draper, trans. and ed., The Complete Poems of Heinrich Heine: A Modern English Version (Boston: Suhrkamp/Insel, 1982), 54.

50. The Melms Brewery operated a beer garden in Milwaukee’s Menomonee Valley. Thomas W. Merrill, “Melms v. Pabst Brewing Co: The Doctrine of Waste in American Property Law,” Marquette Lawyer (Summer 2011), 8–22.

51. Percy possibly had a friend nicknamed after the Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Mazzini. Census takers found no Mazzinis in Milwaukee in 1860.

52. The water from the Karlsbad Springs in Baden was widely believed to have therapeutic properties. Perhaps Mathilde had salts that allowed her to imitate its properties in Milwaukee.

53. French for corpulence.

54. This seems to be a reference to J. A. Biedermann, a music teacher and tenor with whom Mary had a romantically charged friendship. He comes up in later letters.

55. Beginning on July 25, 1859, Sherman Booth faced a two-week trial for “seducing” Caroline N. Cook, a fourteen-year-old neighbor who was staying overnight at his house to care for the children. Cook would testify that after she refused to go to bed with him, Booth came wordlessly into the bedroom she was sharing with her sister, took off his clothes, lay on top of her, and penetrated her. After performing the act twice, he carried her into another room and repeated it once more. The Trial of Sherman M. Booth for Seduction (Milwaukee, Wisc.: Wm. E. Tunis & Co., 1859), 7–8.

56. Forty-Eighter Peter Engelmann was the principal of the well-regarded German-English Academy, a private school established in 1851, which Percy attended. Kathleen Neils Conzen, Immigrant Milwaukee: Accommodation and Community in a Frontier City (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976), 181–82.

57. Born in Schleswig-Holstein, Forty-Eighter Rudolph Lexow had settled in New York, where he edited the Criminal-Zeitung und Belletrisches Journal, an enormously popular political and literary weekly that changed name over the decades. New York Times, July 17, 1909; Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 345–46.

58. Austrian painter Franz Hölzlhuber (1826–1898) traveled in the United States in the late 1850s, residing for a time in Milwaukee. “Franz Hölzlhuber’s Watercolors,” Wisconsin Historical Society, accessed July 30, 2020, https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Article/CS359.

59. See n. 54 (chapter 1).

60. Soon after James Fenimore Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans was published in 1826, abridged and edited translations began to appear in German Europe. Cooper was one of the best-known foreign authors among Germans at the time. Preston A. Barba, “Cooper in Germany,” Indiana University Studies 21 (1914): 51–104.

61. Mary inserted a comment.

62. Mary seems to be parodying Mathilde’s response to receiving a letter from “over the sea.”

63. “She is very, very angry!”

64. Latin for a female Indian.

65. This reference is unclear.

66. Carl Anneke worked as a pharmacist.

67. Mary interrupts.

68. A town in Michigan.

69. Panoramic paintings of Elisha Kent Kane’s Arctic expeditions were on display in Milwaukee in June 1859. Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, June 8, 1859.

70. Friedrich (“Fritz”) von Beust was, like Fritz, a former Prussian officer who resigned to participate in the revolutionary movement in Cologne. A supporter of Marx and Engels’s communist party, Beust published a newspaper with the Annekes until authorities suppressed it in 1848. In 1859, he was running a private school in Zürich. Ludwig Julius Fränkel, “Beust, Friedrich (von),” in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie (Munich: Historischen Kommission bei der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1903), 47:754–58.

71. When Mathilde moved to Zürich, she would again enjoy the company of her old friend, author and educator Ottilie Kapp. Titan: A Monthly Magazine 25 (1857): 561–78. Kapp’s daughter Cäcilie would return to the United States with Mathilde in 1865.

72. Johann Gottfried Kinkel (1815–1882) was a poet, university professor, and Forty-Eighter who fled to England after Carl Schurz helped him escape from a Prussian prison in 1850. Otto Maußer, “Kinkel, Gottfried,” in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie (1910), 55:515–28.

73. Fritz’s father Christian Anneke.

74. The New-Yorker Demokrat was the weekly edition of the New Yorker Herold. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 349, 410. The “obituary” Mathilde had in mind was probably a piece of commentary on Fritz leaving the United States for political oblivion.

75. Southampton was southern England’s main emigrant port in the mid-nineteenth century. Mathilde misspelled it throughout.

76. Ernst Anton Zündt (1819–1897) was a Swabian-born writer who would later become known for his lyric poetry, but he held various positions, including stage manager, newspaper editor, and private teacher. “Zündt, Ernst Anton,” National Cyclopaedia of American Biography (New York: James T. White & Company, 1909), 11:371.

77. Possibly Baden-born Augustus Greulich, a local politician. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 2nd Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 31, dwelling 266, family 282; Flower, History of Milwaukee, 264.

78. Probably the widowed physician Emanuel Munk (1806–1899), an enthusiastic Republican from Prussia’s Polish province of Posen. Frank, Medical History of Milwaukee, 27–28.

79. New York–born William E. Cramer edited the Evening Wisconsin. Donald E. Oehlerts, Guide to Wisconsin Newspapers, 1833–1957 (Madison, Wisc.: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1858), 171.

80. Mathilde later refers to the fact that the Koßmanns had run the inn. Perhaps she is referring to the same family.

81. Located on the west bank of the Rhine in the historically contested area of Alsace, Strasbourg was a French city in 1859, as it is today. Between 1871 and 1918, it was part of the German Empire.

82. Fritz describes part of Strasbourg bordering the Ill River.

83. We found no further information on these two people.

84. This is likely a reference to a breakfast organized by members of the “Demokratischer Verein,” where Mathilde and Fritz first met. Hockamp, Von vielem Geist und großer Hersensgüte, 19.

85. Friedrich Schwedler edited various permutations of the New Yorker Herold (including the New-Yorker Staats-Demokrat and the New-Yorker Demokrat). Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 369–70, 410.

86. Where Mathilde abbreviates a German-language newspaper title, we provide a fuller version in square brackets. Run by Forty-Eighters, the Illinois Staatszeitung was Chicago’s largest German newspaper and an important antislavery, Republican organ. The Westliche Blätter was the Sunday edition of the Anzeiger des Westens, a St. Louis newspaper that also supported the Republican Party and opposed slavery under the leadership of Heinrich Börnstein during the late 1850s and early 1860s. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 73–74, 274.

87. Forty-Eighter Bernhard Domschke published the German American Atlas in Milwaukee from 1856 to 1861. For a time, Carl Schurz contributed articles to the Republican newspaper. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 671–71; Trefousse, Carl Schurz, 72–73.

88. Swiss city on the Rhine at the borders with France and Baden.

89. A former town on the Birs River now mostly incorporated into the municipality of Dornach. “Dornarchbrugg,” ortsnamen.ch: Das Portal der schweizerischen Ortsnamenforschung, accessed July 30, 2020, https://search.ortsnamen.ch/record/109001534.

90. Smaller towns on the way southeast from Basel to Zürich.

91. A small peak overlooking Zürich.

92. Heinrich Heine used these words in reference to the United States in the 1851 poem “Jetzt wohin?” (Where to now?). The translation here follows Margaret Armour, trans., The Poetical Works of Heinrich Heine (London: William Heinemann, 1917), 230.

93. Anna Beust (née Lipka) was a cousin of Marx’s collaborator Friedrich Engels. Markus Bürgi, “Friedrich Engels’ Aufenthalt in der Schweiz 1893,” Marx-Engels Jahrbuch (2004): 187.

94. Born in Hamburg, Heinrich Börnstein (1805–1892) was a teacher, journalist, writer, and theater entrepreneur who collaborated with Marx in Paris in the 1850s. After moving to St. Louis, he published the Anzeiger des Westens. Heinrich Boernstein, Memoirs of a Nobody: The Missouri Years of an Austrian Radical, 1849–1866, trans. and ed. Steven Rowan (St. Louis, Mo.: Missouri Historical Society Press, 1997).

95. A famous competitive sharpshooting festival.

96. Fritz’s brother Carl Anneke’s wife.

97. Bertha Lipka was Anna Beust’s younger sister, another first cousin of Friedrich Engels.

98. Reporter Lorenzo L. Crounse was a very close friend of the Corss family. Only nineteen in 1859, he had worked with Sherman Booth at the Free Democrat before joining with a partner to buy out the paper in March 1859 when Booth was arrested for “seduction.” Watrous, Memoirs of Milwaukee County, 1:445, 1:465.

99. One author claims that Mathilde found Sherman in the bedroom, but the reference is clearly to the lawyer, and Caroline N. Cook was no longer babysitting for the Booths by July. Diane S. Butler, “The Public Life and Private Affairs of Sherman M. Booth,” Wisconsin Magazine of History 82, no. 3 (spring 1999): 187.

100. Mary probably means “strike that.”

101. The family of Caroline N. Cook, Sherman Booth’s victim.

102. Jonathan E. Arnold was one of Milwaukee’s most successful criminal attorneys in the mid-nineteenth century. As the letters show, Sherman Booth would fire him before the trial. Watrous, Memoirs of Milwaukee County, 1:663–64.

103. A few women with the last name Merrill lived in Milwaukee.

104. Possibly Mary Briggs, an otherwise unidentified friend mentioned in later letters. Mary to Adeline Corss, August 8, 1859, Box 2, Folder 5, p. 124, Sherman M. Booth Family Papers, Wisconsin Historical Society, Milwaukee Area Research Center, University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee Libraries Special Collections and Archives. Also available online Sherman M. Booth Papers, “The State of Wisconsin Collection,” accessed August 30, 2020, http://digital.library.wisc.edu/1711.dl/WI.SBCb2f5. (Hereafter “Booth Family Papers.”)

105. Mathilde frequently used the German abbreviation “Hl” (“St.”) to mock men who were apparently convinced of their own righteousness.

Saxon-born Forty-Eighter Otto Ruppius had edited Milwaukee’s Gradaus, but he had just moved to St. Louis to continue his writing and editing career there. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 4th Ward, St. Louis, Missouri, p. 215, dwelling 1102, family 1489; Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 683, 694.

106. Edmund Märklin (1816–1892) worked as a pharmacist but published poetry throughout his life and became well-known among German Americans. Märklin had been compelled to flee Europe after writing revolutionary songs and poems and fighting with the nationalist forces in Baden in 1849. He married Caroline Giesler, the widow of one of Mathilde’s brothers. Jahrbücher der Deutsch-Amerikanischen Turnerei 3 (1894): 174–76; U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 7th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 138, dwelling 943, family 889.

107. Marcus Otterburg was the Jewish Bavarian manager of the Milwaukee Atlas. Editor Bernhard Domschke boarded with the Otterburg family, and that relationship would help Otterburg secure a consulship in Mexico after Lincoln was elected president. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 7th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 79, dwelling 541, family 488; New York Times, June 30, 1867.

108. Ernst Anton Zündt and Otto Ruppius began publishing the Gradaus newspaper in Milwaukee in the late 1850s. Its successor, the Volksblatt, apparently lasted less than a year. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 694.

109. Founded in Berlin in 1811, the Turnverein was a nationalistic gymnastics society with roots in the resistance to the Napoleonic occupation of German lands. Many Turners had been heavily involved in the Revolutions of 1848 in Europe, and in the United States, Turners tended to support antislavery and working-class politics, while continuing to promote German culture, sociability, and physical training. Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship, 25–27, 41–43.

110. A lawyer by the name of William F. Butler practiced in Milwaukee in 1860. Mathilde misspelled the name. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 1st Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 239, dwelling 1724, family 1695.

111. Mathilde probably means Rufus King, the editor of the Sentinel. She often identified editors with their newspapers in this way. Charles King, “Rufus King: Soldier, Editor, and Statesman,” Wisconsin Magazine of History 4, no. 4 (1921): 371–81.

112. Rudolph Lexow’s Criminal-Zeitung und Belletrisches Journal. See n. 57 (chapter 1).

113. This may have been a slip on Mathilde’s part. The Staats-Demokrat seems to have been the former name of Schwedler’s New Yorker Demokrat. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 410.

114. We were unable to find further information.

115. Mathilde’s footnote: “This story will appear in the next issues of the Stripes and Star and as soon as it appears, I will translate it.”

The Stars and Stripes was a short-lived Frank Leslie magazine of which no issues appear to have survived. (See Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, January 1, 1859, 72.) Eliot Granger was the main character in Das Geisterhaus in New-York. See n. 39 (chapter 1).

116. Young’s Block housed many businesses, including the wine and cigar store Gothic Hall. Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, May 25, 1859.

117. We have been unable to identify Negmann.

118. Possibly feminist Mathilde Wendt and her distiller husband Charles, German immigrants who lived in Milwaukee in 1860. Michaela Bank, Women of Two Countries: German-American Women, Women’s Rights, and Nativism, 1848–1890 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2012), 33–34; U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 1st Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 295, dwelling 2052, family 2117.

119. Nassau-born Forty-Eighter Wilhelm Finkler (1821–1879) was a politically active liquor dealer who would return to Germany after distinguished service in the Union Army. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 7th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 97, dwelling 675, family 574; Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, July 13, 1874; Milwaukee Herold, April 2, 1922.

120. See n. 147 (chapter 1).

121. Mathilde had known Franziska (“Zischen”) Rollmann Hammacher since childhood, and the two were very close. Most sources, including a 1940 biography to which Mathilde’s daughter Hertha Anneke Sanne contributed, report that the two women were cousins, but we find no evidence of a blood relationship. Mathilde called Franziska’s mother “Tante” (aunt) and her children called Franziska “Tante,” but Mathilde and Franziska corresponded as though their families had no contact except through them. Henriette M. Heinzen and Hertha Anneke Sanne, “Biographical Notes in Commemoration of Fritz Anneke and Mathilde Franziska Anneke” (1940), 9, unpublished manuscript, Box 8, Folders 1–2, Anneke Papers. Mathilde to Franziska Hammacher, February 4–6, 1861 and [October] 1862, in “Ich gestehe, die Herrschaft der fluchwürdigen ‘Demokratie’ dieses Landes macht mich betrübt,” 54, 140.

122. Herman M. Brandis had trained as a physician but worked as a pharmacist and then editor for the German imprint of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. The Hanover-born Brandis lived in Hoboken, New Jersey in 1859. Carl Wilhelm Schlegel, Schlegel’s German-American Families in the United States (New York: American Historical Society, 1918), 3:289–90.

123. Sherman Booth.

124. Lawyer Hortensius Paine, brother of Judge Byron Paine, had defended Sherman Booth in his 1854 trial for his involvement in the Glover affair. Watrous, Memoirs of Milwaukee County, 1:544.

125. Erasmus D. Baker practiced medicine in Milwaukee. U.S. Census, Population Schedules (1860), 4th Ward, Milwaukee, Wisc., p. 87, dwelling 664, family 662.

126. Henry M. Thompson was rector of the Episcopalian Free Church of the Atonement. Milwaukee Daily Sentinel, January 15, 1859.

127. The reference suggests that a committee of church leaders censured Sherman Booth for his actions.

128. Probably Adeline Cook, the mother of the girl Sherman Booth assaulted.

129. Possibly Mary Briggs. See n. 104 (chapter 1).

130. Presumably household servants.

131. Samedan is a small town in eastern Switzerland near the border with what was then the Italian kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia. It is situated in the alpine Engadine Valley region, which includes the resort town of St. Moritz.

132. We found no further information.

133. Troops from France and the northern Italian kingdom of Sardinia defeated Austrian forces at Solferino, Lombardy on June 24. In the subsequent armistice and peace agreement, Austria ceded Lombardy to Sardinia and accepted the creation of an Italian confederation under the “honorary presidency of the pope.” This settlement fell far short of the goals of Sardinian Prime Minister Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour, who had sought France’s help in completely eliminating Austrian control of Italian lands in order to effect Italian unification. Arnold Blumberg, A Carefully Planned Accident: The Italian War of 1859 (Selinsgrove, Penn.: Susquehanna University Press, 1990), 135, 140.

134. Fritz’s unusual term, “Exekutionstruppe,” played on the fact that in both languages execution means killing and carrying out.

135. Italian military leader Giuseppe Garibaldi was an international icon famed for his work to unify Italy under a republican government, including in 1848. Alfonso Scirocco, Garibaldi: Citizen of the World (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2007).

136. About fifty-five miles farther southeast.

137. Edward G. Ryan and District Attorney Dighton Corson prosecuted Sherman Booth’s case, while Henry L. Palmer and Matthew H. Carpenter defended him. The Trial of Sherman M. Booth for Seduction, 4.

138. Mathilde and Fritz reunited with their infant son in 1849 after fighting in Baden.

139. Mathilde seems to have used a visit to the grave of Mary’s six-month-old baby, Alice (1852–1853), at Forest Home Cemetery to mourn her own lost children.

140. The original German reads “andere Lieben” (different loved ones) and “andere Luft” (different air). Maria Wagner incorrectly transcribed these words as “anders lieben” (love differently) and “andere Lust” (a different kind of desire). Wagner, Mathilde Franziska Anneke, 107. Several other works on Mathilde Anneke rely on Wagner’s inaccurate transcriptions. See for example Gebhardt, Mathilde Franziska Anneke, 191; Joey Horsley and Luise F. Pusch, eds., Frauengeschichten: Berühmte Frauen und ihre Freundinnen (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2010), 7.

141. Anna Beust. See n. 93 (chapter 1).

142. Georg Herwegh (1817–1875) was a German poet and translator who had established his radical credentials even before 1848. In the uprisings, he, like the Annekes, fought in Baden. From 1849 until 1866, he lived in exile in Zürich, where he was one of the Annekes’ closest friends. Encyclopædia Britannica, 11th ed., 13:405.

143. French, Sardinian, and Austrian representatives would meet to finalize the Treaty of Zürich (November 10, 1859), which formally ended the conflict in the northern Italian lands. Blumberg, A Carefully Planned Accident, 143–63.

144. The willingness of Napoleon III of France to sign an armistice with Austria after the Battle of Solferino (June 24) angered Italian nationalists and other Europeans who hoped for a unified, democratic Italy. Blumberg, A Carefully Planned Accident, 141–42.

145. Gallo seems to be an editor, but we have not been able to identify him.

146. The Republican New Jersey Freie Zeitung was published in Newark. Arndt and Olsen, German-American Newspapers, 307.

147. Karl Ludwig Bernays (1815–1879) was a German-born journalist who worked with Heinrich Börnstein and Karl Marx in Paris and took part in the French Revolution of 1848. After leaving Europe, he settled in St. Louis, working on the Anzeiger des Westerns, serving at the secretary of Missouri’s Republican Party, and holding various patronage positions. A. E. Zucker, ed. The Forty-Eighters: Political Refugees of the German Revolution of 1848 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1950), 278.

148. French for wallet.

149. Alma and Ida Weiskirch were the young daughters of Mathilde’s sister Johanna. Franklin Giesler was the seven-year-old son of Caroline Märklin, the widow of Mathilde’s brother. See n. 106 (chapter 1).

150. Mathilde is possibly using an abbreviation for teaspoons in a hyperbolic reference to Booth’s stinginess.