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
It was a bright and sunny autumn day. We were a very happy party.
Estella was disguised with gold spectacles, a black wig and a veil,
and she looked like some middle-aged school-teacher out for a
holiday. We took the electric motor to a station one mile and a half
from Mr. Jansen's, and walked the rest of the way. The air was pure
and sweet and light; it seemed to be breathed right out of heaven.
The breezes touched us and dallied with us and delighted us, like
ministering angels. The whole panoply of nature was magnificent; the
soft-hued, grassy fields; the embowered trees; the feeding cattle;
the children playing around the houses;--
>
"Clowns cracking jokes, and lasses with sly eyes,
And the smile settling on their sun-flecked cheeks
Like noon upon the mellow apricot."
My soul rose upon wings and swam in the ether like a swallow; and I
thanked God that he had given us this majestic, this beautiful, this
surpassing world, and had placed within us the delicate sensibility
and capability to enjoy it. In the presence of such things
death--annihilation--seemed to me impossible, and I exclaimed aloud:
>
"Hast thou not heard
That thine existence, here on earth, is but
The dark and narrow section of a life
Which was with God, long ere the sun was lit,
And shall be yet, when all the bold, bright stars
Are dark as death-dust?"
And oh, what a contrast was all this to the clouded world we had left
behind us, in yonder close-packed city, with its poverty, its misery,
its sin, its injustice, its scramble for gold, its dark hates and
terrible plots. But, I said to myself, while God permits man to wreck
himself, he denies him the power to destroy the world. The grass
covers the graves; the flowers grow in the furrows of the cannon
balls; the graceful foliage festoons with blossoms the ruins of the
prison and the torture-chamber; and the corn springs alike under the
foot of the helot or the yeoman. And I said to myself that, even
though civilization should commit suicide, the earth would still
remain--and with it some remnant of mankind; and out of the
uniformity of universal misery a race might again arise worthy of the
splendid heritage God has bestowed upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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