The Case of Summerfield | Page 9

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.