My Dear Brother: To-day is my last day, and I could not let it pass without writing to you to show you that I always remembered you with brotherly love. When you have read this letter I shall be one of the fortunates who are past and one of whom they can speak nothing but good. Now, my deeds, specially alleged against me before the courts, lie open before the world, and, although I am sentenced to death, I have the feeling that I did my duty; and this feeling it is which makes my last walk easy, to receive joyfully the everlasting sleep as something well earned.
Dear August, you have often had trouble and sorrow, although you are in the blossom of life. People usually heed the words of one deceased more than the speeches of philosophers. I want to tell you a few words. Bear with strength, endurance and friendly submission the burden which you have laden upon yourself, and try to have satisfaction in it, so you can raise your children that they may be useful to you and an adornment to you. What would you gain by it, if you should participate in the good-for-nothing diversions of the people? Think, I could have done it, but I preferred the wandering existence of an Anarchist.
When you, therefore, in years to come, look back upon the days of honest, peaceable labor done, and of hard duty fulfilled, then you will be filled with a joyful certainty and a quiet happiness that will repay you for all your sufferings. We still live, unfortunately, in a world of egotism and incompleteness, and only a few are in position to swim against the stream—even at the risk of their lives. You never did it. Good. So do your duty as the father of your family. Good-by. Accept a greeting from my heart for your wife and family, from
Your brother,—————— August.
The second letter is directed to his parents:
Halle, February 6, 1885.
My Dear Parents: Take in silence what cannot be helped! Who would sacrifice their children, if not you, who have so many? Or should the wealthy do it, when it is the cause of the poor for which we fight? Or should we lay our hands in our laps and wait until others have sacrificed themselves for us? And is it such a great sacrifice I bring? Sick as I am, and with a prospect of long suffering, it should be looked upon as a blessing when such an existence is put to a quick death. And what an end is it? Whoever they are, progressive or reactionary, liberal or conservative, they all hate the Anarchist Reinsdorf. As they have condemned his doings, they cheer his death, the crown of a faithful, self-sacrificing man. But his steadfastness, in defiance of thousands of obstacles, no one can deny. And this shall be your consolation.
How many have had to die for smaller causes? How many have lost their lives in dynamite conquests? Take all this in consideration and don’t let your hearts be made heavy through the babble of paltry and narrow-minded people. My last thoughts are of you and of brothers and sisters, and of the great cause for which I die. Deep-felt wishes fill my heart for the prosperity of every one of you. Greetings to my brothers and sisters, especially Carl, Emilie, Emma and Anna, to whom I could not write personally. Shake once more their hands for me. You and I embrace with all the love of childhood, and I greet you a thousand times. Good-by, all.
Yours,—————— August.
What Herr Johann Most, the present American leader of the irreconcilables, thought of Reinsdorf, may be judged by the following extracts from Most’s biography: