"What odor do you perceive?"
"Potassium," I replied.
"Of course," he added, "you are familiar with the chief characteristic
of that substance. It ignites instantly when brought in contact with
water. Within that little globule of potassium, I have imbedded a pill
of my own composition and discovery. The moment it is liberated from the
potassium, it commences the work of decomposing the fluid on which it
floats. The potassium at once ignites the liberated oxygen, and the
conflagration of this mighty globe is begun."
"Yes," said I, "begun, if you please, but your little pill soon
evaporates or sinks, or melts in the surrounding seas, and your
conflagration ends just where it began."
"My reply to that suggestion could be made at once by simply testing
the experiment on a small scale, or a large one, either. But I prefer
at present to refute your proposition by an argument drawn from nature
herself. If you correctly remember, the first time I had the pleasure
of seeing you was on the island of Galveston, many years ago. Do you
remember relating to me at that time an incident concerning the effects
of a prairie on fire, that you had yourself witnessed but a few days
previously, near the town of Matagorde? If I recollect correctly, you
stated that on your return journey from that place, you passed on the
way the charred remains of two wagon-loads of cotton, and three human
beings, that the night before had perished in the flames; that three
slaves, the property of a Mr. Horton, had started a few days before to
carry to market a shipment of cotton; that a norther overtook them on
a treeless prairie, and a few minutes afterward they were surprised by
beholding a line of rushing fire, surging, roaring and advancing like
the resistless billows of an ocean swept by a gale; that there was no
time for escape, and they perished terribly in fighting the devouring
element?"
"Yes; I recollect the event."
"Now, then, I wish a reply to the simple question: Did the single spark,
that kindled the conflagration, consume the negroes and their charge?
No? But what did? You reply, of course, that the spark set the entire
prairie on fire; that each spear of grass added fuel to the flame, and
kindled by degrees a conflagration that continued to burn so long as
it could feed on fresh material. The pilule in that vial is the little
spark, the oceans are the prairies, and the oxygen the fuel upon which
the fire is to feed until the globe perishes in inextinguishable flames.
The elementary substances in that small vial recreate themselves; they
are self-generating, and when once fairly under way must necessarily
sweep onward, until the waters in all the seas are exhausted. There is,
however, one great difference between the burning of a prairie and the
combustion of an ocean: the fire in the first spreads slowly, for the
fuel is difficult to ignite; in the last, it flies with the rapidity
of the wind, for the substance consumed is oxygen, the most inflammable
agent in nature."
Rising from my seat, I went to the washstand in the corner of the
apartment, and drawing a bowl half full of Spring Valley water, I turned
to Summerfield, and remarked, "Words are empty, theories are ideal--but
facts are things."
"I take you at your word." So saying, he approached the bowl, emptied
it of nine-tenths of its contents, and silently dropped the
potassium-coated pill into the liquid. The potassium danced around the
edges of the vessel, fuming, hissing, and blazing, as it always does,
and seemed on the point of expiring--when, to my astonishment and alarm,
a sharp explosion took place, and in a second of time the water was
blazing in a red, lurid column, half way to the ceiling.
"For God's sake," I cried, "extinguish the flames, or we shall set the
building on fire!"
"Had I dropped the potassium into the bowl as you prepared it," he
quietly remarked, "the building would indeed have been consumed."
Lower and lower fell the flickering flames, paler and paler grew the
blaze, until finally the fire went out, and I rushed up to see the
effects of the combustion.
Not a drop of water remained in the vessel! Astonished beyond measure at
what I had witnessed, and terrified almost to the verge of insanity, I
approached Summerfield, and tremblingly inquired, "To whom, sir, is
this tremendous secret known?" "To myself alone," he responded; "and now
answer me a question: is it worth the money?"
* * * * *
It is entirely unnecessary to relate in detail the subsequent events
connected with this transaction. I will only add a general statement,
showing the results of my negotiations. Having fully satisfied myself
that Summerfield actually held in his hands the fate of the whole world,
with its millions of human beings, and by experiment having tested the
combustion of sea-water, with equal facility as fresh, I next deemed
it my duty to call the attention of a few of the principal men in San
Francisco to the extreme importance of Summerfield's discovery.
A leading banker, a bishop, a chemist, two State university professors,
a physician, a judge, and two Protestant divines, were selected by me
to witness the experiment on a large scale. This was done at a small
sand-hill lake, near the seashore, but separated from it by a ridge of
lofty mountains, distant not more than ten miles from San Francisco.
Every single drop of water in the pool was burnt up in less than fifteen
minutes. We next did all that we could to pacify Summerfield, and
endeavored to induce him to lower his price and bring it within the
bounds of a reasonable possibility. But without avail. He began to grow
urgent in his demands, and his brow would cloud like a tempest-ridden
sky whenever we approached him on the subject. Finally, ascertaining
that no persuasion could soften his heart or touch his feelings, a
sub-committee was appointed, to endeavor, if possible, to raise the
money by subscription. Before taking that step, however, we ascertained
beyond all question that Summerfield was the sole custodian of his
dread secret, and that he kept no written memorial of the formula of his
prescription. He even went so far as to offer us a penal bond that his
secret should perish with him in case we complied with his demands.
The sub-committee soon commenced work amongst the wealthiest citizens
of San Francisco, and by appealing to the terrors of a few, and the
sympathies of all, succeeded in raising one-half the amount within
the prescribed period. I shall never forget the woe-begone faces of
California Street during the month of October. The outside world and
the newspapers spoke most learnedly of a money panic--a pressure in
business, and the disturbances in the New York gold-room. But to the
initiated, there was an easier solution of the enigma. The pale spectre
of Death looked down upon them all, and pointed with its bony finger
to the fiery tomb of the whole race, already looming up in the distance
before them. Day after day, I could see the dreadful ravages of this
secret horror; doubly terrible, since they dared not divulge it. Still,
do all that we could, the money could not be obtained. The day preceding
the last one given, Summerfield was summoned before the committee, and
full information given him of the state of affairs. Obdurate, hard and
cruel, he still continued. Finally, a proposition was started, that an
attempt should be made to raise the other half of the money in the city
of New York. To this proposal Summerfield ultimately yielded, but with
extreme reluctance. It was agreed in committee that I should accompany
him thither, and take with me, in my own possession, evidences of the
sums subscribed here; that a proper appeal should be made to the leading
capitalists, scholars and clergymen of that metropolis, and that, when
the whole amount was raised, it should be paid over to Summerfield, and
a bond taken from him never to divulge his awful secret to any human
being.
With this, he seemed to be satisfied, and left us to prepare for his
going the next morning.
As soon as he left the apartment, the bishop rose, and deprecated the
action that had been taken, and characterized it as childish and absurd.
He declared that no man was safe one moment whilst "that diabolical
wretch" still lived; that the only security for us all was in his
immediate extirpation from the face of the earth, and that no amount of
money could seal his lips, or close his hands. It would be no crime,
he said, to deprive him of the means of assassinating the whole human
family, and that as for himself he was for dooming him to immediate
death.
With a unanimity that was extraordinary, the entire committee coincided.
A great many plans were proposed, discussed and rejected, having in view
the extermination of Summerfield. In them all there was the want of
that proper caution which would lull the apprehensions of an enemy;
for should he for an instant suspect treachery, we knew his nature well
enough to be satisfied, that he would waive all ceremonies and carry his
threats into immediate execution.
It was finally resolved that the trip to New York should not be
abandoned, apparently. But that we were to start out in accordance with
the original program; that during the journey, some proper means should
be resorted to by me to carry out the final intentions of the committee,
and that whatever I did would be sanctioned by them all, and full
protection, both in law and conscience, afforded me in any stage of the
proceeding.
Nothing was wanting but my own consent; but this was difficult to
secure.
At the first view, it seemed to be a most horrible and unwarrantable
crime to deprive a fellow-being of life, under any circumstances; but
especially so where, in meeting his fate, no opportunity was to be
afforded him for preparation or repentance. It was a long time before
I could disassociate, in my mind, the two ideas of act and intent. My
studies had long ago made me perfectly familiar with the doctrine of the
civil law, that in order to constitute guilt, there must be a union
of action and intention. Taking the property of another is not theft,
unless, as the lawyers term it, there is the animus furandi. So, in
homicide, life may be lawfully taken in some instances, whilst the deed
may be excused in others. The sheriff hangs the felon and deprives him
of existence; yet nobody thinks of accusing the officer of murder. The
soldier slays his enemy, still the act is considered heroical. It does
not therefore follow that human life is too sacred to be taken away
under all circumstances. The point to be considered was thus narrowed
down into one grand inquiry, whether Summerfield was properly to be
regarded as hostis humani generis, the enemy of the human race, or not.
If he should justly be so considered, then it would not only be not a
crime to kill him, but an act worthy of the highest commendation. Who
blamed McKenzie for hanging Spencer to the yard-arm? Yet in his case,
the lives of only a small ship's crew were in jeopardy. Who condemned
Pompey for exterminating the pirates from the Adriatic? Yet, in
his case, only a small portion of the Roman Republic was liable to
devastation. Who accuses Charlotte Corday of assassination for stabbing
Marat in his bath? Still, her arm only saved the lives of a few
thousands of revolutionary Frenchmen. And to come down to our own times,
who heaps accusation upon the heads of Lincoln, Thomas or Sheridan, or
even Grant, though in marching to victory over a crushed rebellion, they
deemed it necessary to wade through seas of human gore? If society has
the right to defend itself from the assaults of criminals, who, at best,
can only destroy a few of its members, why should I hesitate when it was
apparent that the destiny of the globe itself hung in the balance? If
Summerfield should live and carry out his threats, the whole world would
feel the shock; his death was the only path to perfect safety.
I asked the privilege of meditation for one hour, at the hands of the
committee, before I would render a decision either way. During that
recess the above argumentation occupied my thoughts. The time expired,
and I again presented myself before them. I did not deem it requisite
to state the grounds of my decision; I briefly signified my assent, and
made instant preparation to carry the plan into execution.
Having passed on the line of the Pacific Railway more than once, I was
perfectly familiar with all of its windings, gorges and precipices.
I selected Cape Horn as the best adapted to the purpose, and... the
public knows the rest.
Having been fully acquitted by two tribunals of the law, I make
this final appeal to my fellowmen throughout the State, and ask them
confidently not to reverse the judgments already pronounced.
I am conscious of no guilt; I feel no remorse; I need no repentance.
For me justice has no terrors, and conscience no sting. Let me be judged
solely by the motives which actuated me, and the importance of the end
accomplished, and I shall pass, unscathed, both temporal and eternal
tribunals.
Leonidas Parker.