The Case of Summerfield, Page 2

  The following manuscript was found among the effects of the lateLeonidas Parker, in relation to one Gregory Summerfield, or, as he wascalled at the time those singular events first attracted public notice,"The Man with a Secret." Parker was an eminent lawyer, a man of firmwill, fond of dabbling in the occult sciences, but never allowing thistendency to interfere with the earnest practice of his profession. Thisastounding narrative is prefaced by the annexed clipping from the AuburnMessenger of November 1, 1870:

  A few days since, we called public attention to the singular conduct ofJames G. Wilkins, justice of the peace for the "Cape Horn" district, inthis county, in discharging without trial a man named Parker, who was,as we still think, seriously implicated in the mysterious death of anold man named Summerfield, who, our readers will probably remember, metso tragical an end on the line of the Central Pacific Railroad, in themonth of October last. We have now to record another bold outrage onpublic justice, in connection with the same affair. The grand jury ofPlacer County has just adjourned, without finding any bill against theperson named above. Not only did they refuse to find a true bill, orto make any presentment, but they went one step further toward theexoneration of the offender; they specially ignored the indictment whichour district attorney deemed it his duty to present. The main facts inrelation to the arrest and subsequent discharge of Parker may be summedup in few words:

  It appears that, about the last of October, one Gregory Summerfield,an old man nearly seventy years of age, in company with Parker, tookpassage for Chicago, via the Pacific Railroad, and about the middle ofthe afternoon reached the neighborhood of Cape Horn, in this county.Nothing of any special importance seems to have attracted the attentionof any of the passengers toward these persons until a few moments beforepassing the dangerous curve in the track, overlooking the North Fork ofthe American River, at the place called Cape Horn. As our readersare aware, the road at this point skirts a precipice, with rockyperpendicular sides, extending to the bed of the stream, nearlyseventeen hundred feet below. Before passing the curve, Parker was heardto comment upon the sublimity of the scenery they were approaching, andfinally requested the old man to leave the car and stand upon the openplatform, in order to obtain a better view of the tremendous chasmand the mountains just beyond. The two men left the car, and a momentafterward a cry of horror was heard by all the passengers, and theold man was observed to fall at least one thousand feet upon the cragsbelow. The train was stopped for a few moments, but, fearful of acollision if any considerable length of time should be lost in anunavailing search for the mangled remains, it soon moved on again,and proceeded as swiftly as possible to the next station. There themiscreant Parker was arrested, and conveyed to the office of the nearestjustice of the peace for examination. We understand that he refused togive any detailed account of the transaction, only that "the deceasedeither fell or was thrown from the moving train."

  The examination was postponed until the arrival of Parker's counsel,O'Connell & Kilpatrick, of Grass Valley, and after they reached CapeHorn not a single word could be extracted from the prisoner. It is saidthat the inquisition was a mere farce; there being no witnesses presentexcept one lady passenger, who, with commendable spirit, volunteered tolay over one day, to give in her testimony. We also learn that, afterthe trial, the justice, together with the prisoner and his counsel, werecloseted in secret session for more than two hours; at the expiration ofwhich time the judge resumed his seat upon the bench, and discharged theprisoner!

  Now, we have no desire to do injustice toward any of the parties tothis singular transaction, much less to arm public sentiment againstan innocent man. But we do affirm that there is, there must be, someprofound mystery at the bottom of this affair, and we shall do ourutmost to fathom the secret.

  Yes, there is a secret and mystery connected with the disappearance ofSummerfield, and the sole object of this communication is to clear itup, and place myself right in the public estimation. But, in order todo so, it becomes essentially necessary to relate all the circumstancesconnected with my first and subsequent acquaintance with Summerfield. Todo this intelligibly, I shall have to go back twenty-two years.

  It is well known amongst my intimate friends that I resided in the lateRepublic of Texas for many years antecedent to my immigration to thisState. During the year 1847, whilst but a boy, and residing on thesea-beach some three or four miles from the city of Galveston, JudgeWheeler, at that time Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Texas, paidus a visit, and brought with him a gentleman, whom he had known severalyears previously on the Sabine River, in the eastern part of that State.This gentleman was introduced to us by the name of Summerfield. Atthat time he was past the prime of life, slightly gray, and inclined tocorpulency. He was of medium height, and walked proudly erect, as thoughconscious of superior mental attainments. His face was one of thosewhich, once seen, can never be forgotten. The forehead was broad, high,and protuberant. It was, besides, deeply graven with wrinkles, andaltogether was the most intellectual that I had ever seen. It bore someresemblance to that of Sir Isaac Newton, but still more to Humboldt orWebster. The eyes were large, deep-set, and lustrous with a light thatseemed kindled in their own depths. In color they were gray, and whilstin conversation absolutely blazed with intellect. His mouth was large,but cut with all the precision of a sculptor's chiseling. He was ratherpale, but, when excited, his complexion lit up with a sudden rush ofruddy flushes, that added something like beauty to his half-sad andhalf-sardonic expression. A word and a glance told me at once, this is amost extraordinary man.

  Judge Wheeler knew but little of the antecedents of Summerfield. He wasof Northern birth, but of what State it is impossible to say definitely.Early in life he removed to the frontier of Arkansas, and pursued forsome years the avocation of village schoolmaster. It was the suggestionof Judge Wheeler that induced him to read law. In six months' time hehad mastered Story's Equity, and gained an important suit, based uponone of its most recondite principles. But his heart was not in thelegal profession, and he made almost constant sallies into the fields ofscience, literature and art. He was a natural mathematician and was themost profound and original arithmetician in the Southwest. He frequentlycomputed the astronomical tables for the almanacs of New Orleans,Pensacola and Mobile, and calculated eclipse, transit and observationswith ease and perfect accuracy. He was also deeply read in metaphysics,and wrote and published, in the old Democratic Review for 1846, anarticle on the "Natural Proof of the Existence of a Deity," that forbeauty of language, depth of reasoning, versatility of illustration, andcompactness of logic, has never been equaled. The only other publicationwhich at that period he had made, was a book that astonished all of hisfriends, both in title and execution. It was called "The Desperadoes ofthe West," and purported to give minute details of the lives of some ofthe most noted duelists and bloodstained villains in the Western States.But the book belied its title. It is full of splendid description andoriginal thought. No volume in the language contains so many eloquentpassages and such gorgeous imagery, in the same space. His plea forimmortality, on beholding the execution of one of the most notedculprits of Arkansas, has no parallel in any living language for beautyof diction and power of thought. As my sole object in this communicationis to defend myself, some acquaintance with the mental resources ofSummerfield is absolutely indispensable; for his death was the immediateconsequence of his splendid attainments. Of chemistry he was a completemaster. He describes it in his article on a Deity, above alluded to, asthe "Youngest Daughter of the Sciences, born amid flames, and cradledin rollers of fire." If there were any one science to which he was morespecially devoted than to any and all others, it was chemistry. But hereally seemed an adept in all, and shone about everywhere with equallustre.

  Many of these characteristics were mentioned by Judge Wheeler at thetime of Summerfield's visit to Galveston, but others subsequently cameto my knowledge, after his retreat to Brownsville, on the banks of theRio Grande. There he filled the position of Judge of the Dis
trict Court,and such was his position just previous to his arrival in this city inthe month of September of the past year.

  One day, toward the close of last September, an old man rapped at myoffice door, and on invitation came in, and advancing, called me byname. Perceiving that I did not at first recognize him, he introducedhimself as Gregory Summerfield. After inviting him to a seat, Iscrutinized his features more closely, and quickly identified him asthe same person whom I had met twenty-two years before. He was greatlyaltered in appearance, but the lofty forehead and the gray eye werestill there, unchanged and unchangeable. He was not quite so stout,but more ruddy in complexion, and exhibited some symptoms, as I thenthought, of intemperate drinking. Still there was the old charm ofintellectual superiority in his conversation, and I welcomed him toCalifornia as an important addition to her mental wealth.

  It was not many minutes before he requested a private interview. Hefollowed me into my back office, carefully closed the door after him andlocked it. We had scarcely seated ourselves before he inquired of meif I had noticed any recent articles in the newspapers respecting thediscovery of the art of decomposing water so as to fit it for use as afuel for ordinary purposes?

  I replied that I had observed nothing new upon that subject sincethe experiments of Agassiz and Professor Henry, and added that, in myopinion, the expensive mode of reduction would always prevent its use.

  In a few words he then informed me that he had made the discoverythat the art was extremely simple, and the expense attending thedecomposition so slight as to be insignificant.

  Presuming then that the object of his visit to me was to procure thenecessary forms to get out a patent for the right, I congratulated himupon his good fortune, and was about to branch forth with a descriptionof some of the great benefits that must ensue to the community, when hesuddenly and somewhat uncivilly requested me to "be silent," and listento what he had to say.

  He began with some general remarks about the inequality of fortuneamongst mankind, and instanced himself as a striking example of the fateof those men, who, according to all the rules of right, ought to be nearthe top, instead of at the foot of the ladder of fortune. "But," saidhe, springing to his feet with impulsive energy, "I have now the meansat my command of rising superior to fate, or of inflicting incalculableills upon the whole human race."

  Looking at him more closely, I thought I could detect in his eyethe gleam of madness; but I remained silent and awaited furtherdevelopments. But my scrutiny, stolen as it was, had been detected, andhe replied at once to the expression of my face: "No, sir; I am neitherdrunk nor a maniac; I am in deep earnest in all that I say; and I amfully prepared, by actual experiment, to demonstrate beyond all doubtthe truth of all I claim."

  For the first time I noticed that he carried a small portmanteau in hishand; this he placed upon the table, unlocked it, and took out twoor three small volumes, a pamphlet or two, and a small, square,wide-mouthed vial, hermetically sealed.

  I watched him with profound curiosity, and took note of his slightestmovements. Having arranged his books to suit him, and placed the vial ina conspicuous position, he drew up his chair very closely to my own, anduttered in a half-hissing tone: "I demand one million dollars for thecontents of that bottle; and you must raise it for me in the city ofSan Francisco within one month, or scenes too terrible even for theimagination to conceive, will surely be witnessed by every living humanbeing on the face of the globe."

  The tone, the manner, and the absurd extravagance of the demand, exciteda faint smile upon my lips, which he observed, but disdained to notice.

  My mind was fully made up that I had a maniac to deal with, and Iprepared to act accordingly. But I ascertained at once that my inmostthoughts were read by the remarkable man before me, and seemed to beanticipated by him in advance of their expression.

  "Perhaps," said I, "Mr. Summerfield, you would oblige me by informing mefully of the grounds of your claim, and the nature of your discovery."

  "That is the object of my visit," he replied. "I claim to havediscovered the key which unlocks the constituent gases of water, andfrees each from the embrace of the other, at a single touch."

  "You mean to assert," I rejoined, "that you can make water burn itselfup?"

  "Nothing more nor less," he responded, "except this: to insist upon theconsequences of the secret, if my demand be not at once complied with."

  Then, without pausing for a moment to allow me to make a suggestion, asI once or twice attempted to do, he proceeded in a clear and deliberatemanner, in these words: "I need not inform you, sir, that when thisearth was created, it consisted almost wholly of vapor, which, bycondensation, finally became water. The oceans now occupy more thantwo-thirds of the entire surface of the globe. The continents are mereislands in the midst of the seas. They are everywhere oceanbound, andthe hyperborean north is hemmed in by open polar seas. Such is my firstproposition. My second embraces the constituent elements of water. Whatis that thing which we call water? Chemistry, that royal queen of allthe sciences, answers readily: 'Water is but the combination of twogases, oxygen and hydrogen, and in the proportion of eight to one.' Inother words, in order to form water, take eight parts of oxygen and oneof hydrogen, mix them together, and the result or product is water.You smile, sir, because, as you very properly think, these are theelementary principles of science, and are familiar to the minds of everyschoolboy twelve years of age. Yes! but what next? Suppose you takethese same gases and mix them in any other proportion, I care not what,and the instantaneous result is heat, flame, combustion of the intensestdescription. The famous Drummond Light, that a few years ago astonishedEurope what is that but the ignited flame of a mixture of oxygen andhydrogen projected against a small piece of lime? What was harmless aswater, becomes the most destructive of all known objects when decomposedand mixed in any other proportion.

  "Now, suppose I fling the contents of this small vial into the PacificOcean, what would be the result? Dare you contemplate it for an instant?I do not assert that the entire surface of the sea would instantaneouslybubble up into insufferable flames; no, but from the nucleus of acircle, of which this vial would be the center, lurid radii of flameswould gradually shoot outward, until the blazing circumference wouldroll in vast billows of fire, upon the uttermost shores. Not all thedripping clouds of the deluge could extinguish it. Not all the tears ofsaints and angels could for an instant check its progress. On and onwardit would sweep, with the steady gait of destiny, until the continentswould melt with fervent heat, the atmosphere glare with the ominousconflagration, and all living creatures, in land and sea and air, perishin one universal catastrophe."

  Then suddenly starting to his feet, he drew himself up to his fullheight, and murmured solemnly, "I feel like a God! and I recognize myfellow-men but as pygmies that I spurn beneath my feet."

  "Summerfield," said I calmly, "there must be some strange error in allthis. You are self-deluded. The weapon which you claim to wield is onethat a good God and a beneficent Creator would never intrust to thekeeping of a mere creature. What, sir! create a world as grand andbeautiful as this, and hide within its bosom a principle that at anymoment might inwrap it in flames, and sink all life in death? I'll notbelieve it; 't were blasphemy to entertain the thought!"

  "And yet," cried he passionately, "your Bible prophesies the sameirreverence. Look at your text in 2d Peter, third chapter, seventh andtwelfth verses. Are not the elements to melt with fervent heat? Are notthe 'heavens to be folded together like a scroll?' Are not 'the rocks tomelt, the stars to fall, and the moon to be turned into blood?' Is notfire the next grand cyclic consummation of all things here below? But Icome fully prepared to answer such objections. Your argument betrays anarrow mind, circumscribed in its orbit, and shallow in its depth. 'Tisthe common thought of mediocrity. You have read books too much, andstudied nature too little. Let me give you a lesson today in theworkshop of Omnipotence. Take a stroll with me into the limitlessconfines of space, and let us observe together some of the s
cenestranspiring at this very instant around us. A moment ago you spoke ofthe moon: what is she but an extinguished world? You spoke of the sun:what is he but a globe of flame? But here is the Cosmos of Humboldt.Read this paragraph."

  As he said this he placed before me the Cosmos of Humboldt, and I readas follows:

  Nor do the Heavens themselves teach unchangeable permanency in the worksof creation. Change is observable there quite as rapid and complete asin the confines of our solar system. In the year 1752, one of the smallstars in the constellation Cassiopeia blazed up suddenly into an orbof the first magnitude, gradually decreased in brilliancy, and finallydisappeared from the skies. Nor has it ever been visible since thatperiod for a single moment, either to the eye or to the telescope. Itburned up and was lost in space.

  "Humboldt," he added, "has not told us who set that world on fire!"

  "But," resumed he, "I have still clearer proofs."

  Saying this, he thrust into my hands the last London Quarterly, and onopening the book at an article headed "The Language of Light," I readwith a feeling akin to awe, the following passage:

  Further, some stars exhibit changes of complexion in themselves. Sirius,as before stated, was once a ruddy, or rather a fiery-faced orb, but hasnow forgotten to blush, and looks down upon us with a pure, brilliantsmile, in which there is no trace either of anger or of shame. On thecountenances of others, still more varied traits have rippled, within amuch briefer period of time. May not these be due to some physiologicalrevolutions, general or convulsive, which are in progress in theparticular orb, and which, by affecting the constitution of itsatmosphere, compel the absorption or promote the transmission ofparticular rays? The supposition appears by no means improbable,especially if we call to mind the hydrogen volcanoes which have beendiscovered on the photosphere of the sun. Indeed, there are a few smallstars which afford a spectrum of bright lines instead of dark ones, andthis we know denotes a gaseous or vaporized state of things, from whichit maybe inferred that such orbs are in a different condition from mostof their relations.

  And, as if for the very purpose of throwing light upon this interestingquestion, an event of the most striking character occurred in theheavens, almost as soon as the spectroscopists were prepared tointerpret it correctly.

  On the 12th of May, 1866, a great conflagration, infinitely larger thanthat of London or Moscow, was announced. To use the expression of adistinguished astronomer, a world was found to be on fire! A star, whichtill then had shone weakly and unobtrusively in the corona borealis,suddenly blazed up into a luminary of the second magnitude. In thecourse of three days from its discovery in this new character, byBirmingham, at Tuam, it had declined to the third or fourth order ofbrilliancy. In twelve days, dating from its first apparition in theIrish heavens, it had sunk to the eighth rank, and it went on waninguntil the 26th of June, when it ceased to be discernible except throughthe medium of the telescope. This was a remarkable, though certainlynot an unprecedented proceeding on the part of a star; but one singularcircumstance in its behavior was that, after the lapse of nearly twomonths, it began to blaze up again, though not with equal ardor, andafter maintaining its glow for a few weeks, and passing through sundryphases of color, it gradually paled its fires, and returned to itsformer insignificance. How many years had elapsed since this awfulconflagration actually took place, it would be presumptuous to guess;but it must be remembered that news from the heavens, though carried bythe fleetest of messengers, light, reaches us long after the event hastranspired, and that the same celestial carrier is still dropping thetidings at each station it reaches in space, until it sinks exhausted bythe length of its flight.

  As the star had suddenly flamed up, was it not a natural suppositionthat it had become inwrapped in burning hydrogen, which in consequenceof some great convulsion had been liberated in prodigious quantities,and then combining with other elements, had set this hapless world onfire? In such a fierce conflagration, the combustible gas would soon beconsumed, and the glow would therefore begin to decline, subject, as inthis case, to a second eruption, which occasioned the renewed outburstof light on the 20th of August.

  By such a catastrophe, it is not wholly impossible that our own globemay some time be ravaged; for if a word from the Almighty were tounloose for a few moments the bonds of affinity which unite the elementsof water, a single spark would bring them together with a fury thatwould kindle the funeral pyre of the human race, and be fatal to theplanet and all the works that are thereon.

  "Your argument," he then instantly added, "is by no means a good one.What do we know of the Supreme Architect of the Universe, or of hisdesigns? He builds up worlds, and he pulls them down; he kindles sunsand he extinguishes them. He inflames the comet, in one portion of itsorbit, with a heat that no human imagination can conceive of; and inanother, subjects the same blazing orb to a cold intenser than thatwhich invests forever the antarctic pole. All that we know of Him wegather through His works. I have shown you that He burns other worlds,why not this? The habitable parts of our globe are surrounded by water,and water you know is fire in possibility."

  "But all this," I rejoined, "is pure, baseless, profitless speculation."

  "Not so fast," he answered. And then rising, he seized the small vial,and handing it to me, requested me to open it.

  I confess I did so with some trepidation.

  "Now smell it."

  I did so.

  "What odor do you perceive?"

  "Potassium," I replied.

  "Of course," he added, "you are familiar with the chief characteristicof that substance. It ignites instantly when brought in contact withwater. Within that little globule of potassium, I have imbedded a pillof my own composition and discovery. The moment it is liberated from thepotassium, it commences the work of decomposing the fluid on which itfloats. The potassium at once ignites the liberated oxygen, and theconflagration of this mighty globe is begun."

  "Yes," said I, "begun, if you please, but your little pill soonevaporates or sinks, or melts in the surrounding seas, and yourconflagration ends just where it began."

  "My reply to that suggestion could be made at once by simply testingthe experiment on a small scale, or a large one, either. But I preferat present to refute your proposition by an argument drawn from natureherself. If you correctly remember, the first time I had the pleasureof seeing you was on the island of Galveston, many years ago. Do youremember relating to me at that time an incident concerning the effectsof a prairie on fire, that you had yourself witnessed but a few dayspreviously, near the town of Matagorde? If I recollect correctly, youstated that on your return journey from that place, you passed on theway the charred remains of two wagon-loads of cotton, and three humanbeings, that the night before had perished in the flames; that threeslaves, the property of a Mr. Horton, had started a few days before tocarry to market a shipment of cotton; that a norther overtook them ona treeless prairie, and a few minutes afterward they were surprised bybeholding a line of rushing fire, surging, roaring and advancing likethe resistless billows of an ocean swept by a gale; that there was notime for escape, and they perished terribly in fighting the devouringelement?"

  "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 entireprairie on fire; that each spear of grass added fuel to the flame, andkindled by degrees a conflagration that continued to burn so long asit could feed on fresh material. The pilule in that vial is the littlespark, the oceans are the prairies, and the oxygen the fuel upon whichthe fire is to feed until the globe perishes in inextinguishable flames.The elementary substances in that small vial recreate themselves; theyare self-generating, and when once fairly under way must necessarilysweep onward, until the waters in all the seas are exhausted. There is,however, one great difference between the burning of a prairie and thecombustion of an ocean: the fire in the first sp
reads slowly, for thefuel is difficult to ignite; in the last, it flies with the rapidityof the wind, for the substance consumed is oxygen, the most inflammableagent in nature."

  Rising from my seat, I went to the washstand in the corner of theapartment, and drawing a bowl half full of Spring Valley water, I turnedto Summerfield, and remarked, "Words are empty, theories are ideal--butfacts are things."

  "I take you at your word." So saying, he approached the bowl, emptiedit of nine-tenths of its contents, and silently dropped thepotassium-coated pill into the liquid. The potassium danced around theedges 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 wasblazing in a red, lurid column, half way to the ceiling.

  "For God's sake," I cried, "extinguish the flames, or we shall set thebuilding on fire!"

  "Had I dropped the potassium into the bowl as you prepared it," hequietly remarked, "the building would indeed have been consumed."

  Lower and lower fell the flickering flames, paler and paler grew theblaze, until finally the fire went out, and I rushed up to see theeffects of the combustion.

  Not a drop of water remained in the vessel! Astonished beyond measure atwhat I had witnessed, and terrified almost to the verge of insanity, Iapproached Summerfield, and tremblingly inquired, "To whom, sir, isthis tremendous secret known?" "To myself alone," he responded; "and nowanswer me a question: is it worth the money?"

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