New Hampshire Statesman

ORSINI AND HIS CHILDREN.

In the year 1854, when about to start on the desperate mission which led to his arrest at Hermannstadt and confinement in the citadel of Mantua, Orsini intrusted the education of his daughters to his brother and uncle, and to the former addressed the following letter. His frame of mind at the time is thus depicted by himself in his memoirs:

"Before leaving for Italy I was again overcome with melancholy. I was sick of every thing. A sad presentiment told me that I should see my children, my uncle, my brother no more. I wrote to the two latter that I was going into Asia, so that they should have no suspicion that I was engaged in a new conspiracy. I sent the letters open to Mr. Colombo, of Nice, to forward them; they were dated from Geneva, so that the police, if they opened the letters, should not know where I was."

"TO ERNESTINA AND IDA ORSINI."

"SWITZERLAND, Sept. 28, 1854."

"My DEAR DAUGHTERS: These few lines, together with two little hearts, which contain two locks of my hair, will be consigned to you when I am alive no longer; you will also receive a portrait greatly resembling me, and I have left the necessary instructions with my brother Leonidas, so that you may have it, and keep it in memory of your poor father.

"I left you in your tender age; you were very little and the last time that ever I saw you was in the prison at Nice. I was driven from Piedmont because I had conspired against the foreigners who occupied my country. The vicissitudes of Italy do not permit me to watch over your education myself—sweet pleasure to caress you in your most beautiful period of youth.

In the lines which I have written to my brother Leonidas and my uncle, I have explained that I leave every thing to you. I have begged them to transfer to you two every thing which they might have intended to do to my advantage. I have recommended you more than myself, because I am anxious that they should love you, and take the greatest care in your education. I go to far-off lands, embittered by every thing. I carry with me two thoughts—of you two dear children, and that of my dear country, and I trust that my occupations, my sacrifices, may be useful to both. If I die soon, it will not be my fault that I have not executed these two objects: it will be that of death.

"Before concluding, I must give you some advice which you will retain, my dear children, as a paternal memorial, and which may be a valuable guide to you throughout your lives; at least, I hope and wish so. First, believe in God! I have a firm conviction of His existence. Second, possess unalterable principles of honor! Mark! I do not mean malleable and material principles; no, but those which are universally recognized as such by all people and nations which do not alter with the changes of time, of country, of governments: I mean those principles which are eternal truths, absolute, immutable, not depending on any one's caprice. Pay attention to this. Every body considers himself honorable; but this is not always seen in his acts, but instead of it we find deceit, hypocrisy, equivocation, and cunning words to injure others. This is what the greater part of men do, who regard the principles of honor as a piece of Indian rubber. When the true principles of honor have taken root in you, as I have explained, and they are considered by you as the basis of public and private morality, you must be necessarily lovers of your country, honest, affectionate toward your parents, pure in your youth, pure and faithful to your husbands to whom you may be married; in fine, loving toward your children, and adorned with the finest qualities which can be desired in women destined by God and nature to embellish the life of man and to render his existence less miserable.

"Gain as much instruction as you can, and inform yourselves well as to what belongs to the familiar or domestic life, and recollect that the greater part of the crimes and errors of men proceed from ignorance, that enemy to civilization, progress, honor and the liberty of nations. Remember, that as soon as you can use your intellectual faculties, the world will seem a paradise to you; every thing will smile on you; it will seem like a beautiful Spring, full of sweet-smelling and beautiful flowers; a Spring which promises every thing lovely and dear that the imagination can conceive. All that is lovely will smile upon you, and your hearts will expand with sweet hopes and affections toward whatever fascinates you, toward that ideal—beauty, goodness, and love, which, alas, in reality does not exist. My dear children, do not believe in or be dazzled by the appearance which the world will at first present to you." Be careful. It is but the appearance, the external surface which fascinates, and if you are dazzled by its witchery, disappointment must come—and then—and then—you will find an immense void; a void which you would never have experienced if you had never looked upon the world as it really is; a void that will show you but too plainly that the world is full of rottenness, deceit and ingratitude: that we must not here seek the summit of felicity, but a tempered contentment. You will fall into despair—into tears—you will wish to retrace your steps, but you are too late. Give ear to these words which your father composes with tears in his eyes. I hope that you may never suffer the lightest of the misfortunes experienced by me, the least of the disappointments in friendship. If you marry be careful how you make your selection; let him be honest, honorable, a lover of his country; let his heart be large, and let him be capable of true friendship, and be careful to return it on your part with conduct equally noble and an affection equally pure. Be faithful to the husband whom you select for your life-companion: let the very thought of infidelity strike you with horror; destroy yourselves rather than fall into that fault; an error like that nothing can remedy; the pardon which might be conceded does not remedy the evil; in you remains an eternal stain, in the husband an eternal rancor—an eternal remembrance of your guilt, of your dishonesty: remember that such an action on the wife's part poisons the husband's existence, if he has a heart or a feeling of honor; that it extinguishes domestic peace for ever; that it destroys domestic tranquility; that it causes the love and sweetness which should exist between husband and wife to cease: cools and abates the love of the parent for his child; that it, in fact, casts dishonor upon the husband, upon you, upon all the family. Take care of yourselves, and keep this as a general maxim, that the greater part of men are bad and wicked; and lastly, in leisure moments, cultivate your minds with pleasing and moral reading, which will have the effect of guiding your minds early toward good and nourishing you with the fruit of wisdom! Do I weary you with this long letter? Pardon me! I must have written to you, even if I had not wished. These lines have been the first and may be the last I shall ever address to you, and, as you perceive, they are written by the hand of your unhappy father.

"May you have a serene and long life! Take a thousand and a thousand kisses from your father, who carries with him the pain of not being able to see and embrace you, impeded by the infamy of men. Receive the paternal benediction of your

"FELICE ORSINI.

Farewell, farewell, farewell from my heart."