Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth CenturyDonnelly, Ignatius
Science
Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century
Donnelly, Ignatius
Dystopias -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Twentieth century -- Fiction
"There was one thing I did out of policy, which yet went very much
against my inclinations, in dealing with such good and honest people.
I knew that in all probability I had been traced by the spies of the
Oligarchy to this house; they would regard it of course as a crazy
adventure, and would naturally assign it to base purposes. But it
would not do for me to appear altogether different, even in this
family, from the character I had given myself out to be, of a
reckless and dissipated man; for the agents of my enemies might talk
to the servant, or to members of the household. And so the second
night I came home to supper apparently drunk. It was curious to see
the looks of wonder, sorrow and sympathy exchanged between the
members of the family as I talked ramblingly and incoherently at the
table. But this feint served one purpose; it broke down the barrier
between landlord and tenants. Indeed, paradoxical as it may seem, I
think they thought more of me because of my supposed infirmity; for
'pity is akin to love;' and it is hard for the tenderer feelings of
the heart to twine about one who is so strong and flawless that he
demands no sympathy or forbearance at our hands. I ceased to be the
rich owner of a house--I was simply one of themselves; a foolish
journeyman printer; given to drink, but withal a kindly and pleasant
man. Two days afterwards, Christina, who had looked at me several
times with a troubled brow, took me aside and tried to persuade me to
join a temperance society of which her father was a member. It was
very pretty and touching to see the motherly way in which the little
woman took my hand, and coaxed me to give up my vice, and told me,
with eloquent earnestness, all the terrible consequences which would
flow from it. I was riot foolish enough to think that any tender
sentiment influenced her. It was simply her natural goodness, and her
pity for a poor fellow, almost now one of their own family, who was
going to destruction. And indeed, if I had been a veritable drunkard,
she would have turned me from my evil courses. But I assured her that
I would try to reform; that I would drink less than previously, and
that, on the next New Year's day, I might be able to summon up
courage enough to go with her father to his society, and pledge
myself to total abstinence. She received these promises with many
expressions of pleasure; and, although I had to keep up my false
character, I never afterwards wounded her feelings by appearing
anything more than simply elevated in spirit by drink.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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