The man of conscience, the man capable of remorse, the man who
murders at the prompting of a temper uncontrolled--such will swiftly
learn that however well the deed is done, a thousand baffling
distractions, bred of their own inherent or acquired weakness, must
arise to confound them. Remorse, for example, is always a first step
to discovery, if not to confession; and any lesser uneasiness
similarly tends to trouble of mind and consequent danger of body.
Those who hang, in truth deserve to do so; but they who strike,
like myself, for reasons that success cannot shake and from a
settled, farsighted resolution beyond the power of any emotion to
assail, should be safe enough. We rejoice in the sublime mental
gratification that follows success: it is our spiritual support, our
sustenance and our reward.
What can offer an experience so tremendous as murder? What has
science, philosophy, religion to give us comparable with the
mysteries, dangers and triumphs of great crime? All are childish
toys compared to it; and since, in any case, the next world will
surely stultify our knowledge, confound our accepted truths, and
reduce the wisdom of this earth to the prattle of childhood, I
turned from physics and from metaphysics to action--and happening to
taste blood early, tingled with the joy of it.
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