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
You had money, you had power, you had leisure, you had intelligence,
you possessed the earth; all things were possible unto you. Did you
say to one another: "These poor souls are our brethren. For them
Christ died on Calvary. What can we do to make their lives bright and
happy?" No; no; you cried out, "'On with the dance!' Let them go down
into the bottomless pit!"
And you smiled and said to one another, in the words of the first
murderer, when he lied to God: "Am I my brother's keeper?" Nay, you
said further to one another, "There is no God!" For you thought, if
there was one, surely He would not permit the injustice manifest in
the world. But, lo! He is here. Did you think to escape him? Did you
think the great Father of Cause and Effect--the All-knowing, the
universe-building God,--would pass you by?
As you sowed, so must you reap. Evil has but one child--Death! For
hundreds of years you have nursed and nurtured Evil. Do you complain
if her monstrous progeny is here now, with sword and torch? What else
did you expect? Did you think she would breed angels?
Your ancestors, more than two centuries ago, established and
permitted Slavery. What was the cry of the bondman to them? What the
sobs of the mother torn from her child--the wife from her husband--on
the auction block? Who among them cared for the lacerated bodies, the
shameful and hopeless lives? They were merry; they sang and they
danced; and they said, "Gods sleeps."
But a day came when there was a corpse at every fireside. And not the
corpse of the black stranger--the African--the slave;--but the
corpses of fair, bright-faced men; their cultured, their manly, their
noble, their best-loved. And, North and South, they sat, rocking
themselves to and fro, in the midst of the shards and ashes of
desolation, crying aloud for the lives that would come back to bless
them never, nevermore.
God wipes out injustice with suffering; wrong with blood; sin with
death. You can no more get beyond the reach of His hand than you can
escape from the planet.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE PRINCE GIVES HIS LAST BRIBE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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