THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
ment as a spy on the doings of the political refugees from Germany in America. The proof offered to sustain this charge consisted in the absurd allegation that, while the property of other exiles had been confiscated by the Prussian Government, mine had not been. I wondered whether anybody would take so silly an invention seriously. But it was evidently put afloat in the hope that it would be believed by persons not acquainted with European affairs, or by the class of people who were ready to believe anything bad of anybody, especially of a man belonging to the opposite party; and I was solemnly asked what I had to say to clear myself. Indignant at being expected to answer such a charge, I replied that I had not a word to say. This was interpreted by some as an indirect confession, but more generally as a proper expression of contempt. The matter attracted some attention in the State and was largely discussed in the press. The upshot was that a Republican editor, Mr. Horace Rublee, a man of uncommon ability and high character, who at a later period rose to distinction, inquired into my past career, and then learned and published the story of the liberation of Kinkel, which gave me a sort of romantic nimbus. And then an excited hunt began for the originator of the slander, which, indeed, did not result in the discovery of the guilty party, but in the most emphatic declarations of suspected persons that they were innocent.
This, however, was only the beginning of my experiences in being the victim of defamation. I know now, and I knew then, that every public man is more or less exposed to the unscrupulousness of the vilifier among his opponents. But as I became more active on the political field the attacks upon my character grew so thick and fast and amazingly reckless that I have often thought I had more than my proper share of personal abuse. Maybe the thugs of the press believed
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