Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century — John Shaqi
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
"They are the great money-getters of the world. They rose from
dealers in old clothes and peddlers of hats to merchants, to bankers,
to princes. They were as merciless to the Christian as the Christian
had been to them. They said, with Shylock: 'The villainy you teach me
I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the
instruction.' The 'wheel of fortune has come full circle;' and the
descendants of the old peddlers now own and inhabit the palaces where
their ancestors once begged at the back doors for secondhand clothes;
while the posterity of the former lords have been, in many cases,
forced down into the swarming misery of the lower classes. This is a
sad world, and to contemplate it is enough to make a man a
philosopher; but he will scarcely know whether to belong to the
laughing or the weeping school--whether to follow the example of
Democritus or Heraclitus."
"And may I ask," I said, "what is the nature of your society?"
"I cannot tell you more at this time," he replied, "than that it is a
political secret society having a membership of millions, and
extending all over the world. Its purposes are the good of mankind.
Some day, I hope, you may learn more about it. Come," he added, "let
me show you my house, and introduce you to my mother."
Touching a secret spring in the wall, a hidden door flew open, and we
entered a small room. I thought I had gotten into the dressing-room
of a theater. Around the walls hung a multitude of costumes, male and
female, of different sizes, and suited for all conditions of life. On
the table were a collection of bottles, holding what I learned were
hair dyes of different colors; and there was also an assortment of
wigs, beards and mustaches of all hues. I thought I recognized among
the former the coarse white hair of the quondam beggar. I pointed it
out to him.
"Yes," he said, with a laugh, "I will not be able to wear that for
some time to come."
Upon another table there was a formidable array of daggers, pistols
and guns; and some singular-looking iron and copper things, which he
told me were cartridges of dynamite and other deadly explosives.
I realized that my companion was a conspirator. But of what kind? I
could not believe evil of him. There was a manliness and kindliness
in his face which forbade such a thought; although the square chin
and projecting jaws and firm-set mouth indicated a nature that could
be most dangerous; and I noticed sometimes a restless, wild look in
his eyes.
I followed him into another room, where he introduced me to a
sweet-faced old lady, with the same broad brow and determined, but
gentle, mouth which so distinguished her son. It was evident that
there was great love between them, although her face wore a troubled
and anxious look, at times, as she regarded him. It seemed to me that
she knew he was engaged in dangerous enterprises.
She advanced to me with a smile and grasped both my hands with her
own, as she said:
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