THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
sinuatingly dared to accuse of cowardice has in this last year looked death in its various forms into the eyes so often, so nearly, so calmly, that even the prospect of the guillotine can no longer shake him. I do not want your compassion, but I insist upon my right. My right I put upon your consciences, and because I know that you citizens, jurymen, will not deny this right to your Rhenish compatriot. Therefore I expect with quiet confidence from your lips the verdict of not guilty. I have spoken; now it is for you to judge!”
The impression produced by these words has been described to me by eyewitnesses. At first the audience listened in breathless silence, but before long the judges upon the bench, the jurors, the densely crowded citizens in the hall, the prosecuting attorney who had conducted the case, the police officers who watched the accused, the soldiers whose bayonets gleamed about the door, burst out in sobs and tears. It took several minutes after Kinkel concluded his speech before the presiding judge found his voice again. At last the case was given to the jury. The jury instantly returned a verdict of “Not guilty.” Then a thundering cheer broke forth in the hall, which was taken up by the multitude outside and resounded in the streets far into the city. Frau Kinkel pressed through the crowd to her husband. A police officer ordered his subordinates who surrounded Kinkel to hold her back, but Kinkel, rising to his full height, cried out with a commanding voice, “Come, Johanna! Give your husband a kiss. Nobody shall forbid you.” As if yielding to a higher power the police officers stepped back and made way for the wife, who threw herself into her husband's arms.
The other defendants were now free to go home; only Kinkel, still under the former sentence imposed upon him by the court-martial in Baden, was again quickly sur-
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