Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century

by Ignatius Donnelly

spread over crawling serpents.

  The audience of course were familiar with these doctrines. Thepreacher owed his success, indeed, to the fact that he hadcourageously avowed the sentiments which had dwelt in the breasts ofthe people and had been enacted in their lives for generations. Thecongregation had listened with rapt attention to this eloquent echoof their own hearts; this justification of their Nature-worship; thisre-birth of Paganism. The women nestled closer to the men at thetender passages; and I noticed many a flashing interchange ofglances, between bold, bright eyes, which told too well that thegreat preacher's adjurations were not thrown away upon unwillinglisteners.

  Another song was sung; and then there was a rustle of silks andsatins. The audience were about to withdraw. The preacher sat uponhis sofa, on the platform, mopping his broad forehead with hishandkerchief, for he had spoken with great energy. I could restrainmyself no longer. I rose and said in a loud voice, which at oncearrested the movement of the congregation:

  "Reverend sir, would you permit a stranger to make a few comments onyour sermon?"

  "Certainly," he replied, very courteously; "we welcome discussion.Will you step to the platform?"

  "No," I replied; "with your permission I shall speak from where Istand.

  "I can only say to you that I am inexpressibly shocked and grieved byyour discourse.

  "Are you blind? Can you not see that Christianity was intended by Godto be something better and nobler, superimposed, as an after-birth oftime, on the brutality of the elder world? Does not the greatdoctrine of Evolution, in which you believe, preach this gospel? Ifman rose from a brute form, then advanced to human and savage life,yet a robber and a murderer; then reached civility and culture, andphilanthropy; can you not see that the fingerboard of God pointsforward, unerringly, along the whole track of the race; and that itis still pointing forward to stages, in the future, when man shallapproximate the angels? But this is not your doctrine. Your creeddoes not lead forward; it leads backward, to the troglodyte in hiscavern, splitting the leg-bones of his victim to extract the marrowfor his cannibalistic feast. _He_ would have enjoyed your sermon!"[Great excitement in the congregation.]

  "And your gospel of Love. What is it but beastliness? Like the oldGreeks and Romans, and all undeveloped antiquity, you deify thebasest traits of the fleshly organism; you exalt an animal incidentof life into the end of life. You drive out of the lofty temples ofthe soul the noble and pure aspirations, the great charities, thedivine thoughts, which should float there forever on the pinions ofangels; and you cover the floor of the temple with crawlingcreatures, toads, lizards, vipers--groveling instincts, baseappetites, leprous sensualities, that befoul the walls of the housewith their snail-like markings, and climb, and climb, until they lookout of the very windows of the soul, with such repellent and brutisheyes, that real love withers and shrinks at the sight, and dies likea blasted flower.

  "O shallow teacher of the blind, do you not see that Christianity wasa new force, Heaven-sent, to overcome that very cruelty andheartlessness of Nature which you so much commend? Nature's offspringwas indeed the savage, merciless as the creed you preach. Then cameGod, who breathed a soul into the nostrils of the savage. Then cameOne after Him who said the essence of all religion was man's love forhis fellow man, and for the God that is over all; that the highestworship of the Father was to heal the sick, and feed the hungry, andcomfort the despised and rejected, and lift up the fallen. Andlove!--that was true love, made up in equal parts of adoration and ofpity! Not the thing you call love, which makes these faces flush withpassion and these eyes burn with lust!"

  I had gotten thus far, and was proceeding swimmingly, very much to myown satisfaction, when an old woman who stood near me, and who wasdressed like a girl of twenty, with false rubber shoulders and neckand cheeks, to hide the ravages of time, hurled a huge hymn-book, thesize of a Bible, at me. Age had not impaired the venerable woman'saccuracy of aim, nor withered the strength of her good right arm; andthe volume of diluted piety encountered me, with great force, justbelow my right ear, and sent me reeling over against Max. As I rose,nothing disconcerted, to renew my discourse, I found the air full ofhymn-books, cushions, umbrellas, overshoes, and every other missilethey could lay their hands on; and then I perceived that the wholecongregation, men, women, children, preacher, clerks and ushers, wereall advancing upon me with evil intent. I would fain have staid tohave argued the matter out with them, for I was full of a great manyfine points, which I had not yet had time to present, but Max, whonever had any interest in theological discussions, and abhorred abattle with Amazons, seized me by the arm and literally dragged meout of the church. I continued, however, to shout back my anathemasof the preacher, and that worthy answered me with floods of abuse;and the women screamed, and the men howled and swore; and altogetherit was a very pretty assemblage that poured forth upon the sidewalk.

  "Come along," said Max; "you will be arrested, and that will spoileverything."

  He hurried me into a carriage and we drove off. Although still fullof the debate, I could not help but laugh when I looked back at themultitude in front of the church. Every one was wildly ejaculating,except some of the sisters, who were kissing the hands and face ofthe preacher--dear, good man--to console him for the hateful insultsI had heaped upon him! They reminded me of a swarm of hornets whosepaper domicile had been rudely kicked by the foot of some wanderingcountry boy.

  "Well, well," said Max, "you are a strange character! Your impulseswill some time cost you your life. If I did not think so much of youas I do, I should tell you you were a great fool. Why couldn't youkeep quiet? You surely didn't hope to convert that congregation, anymore than you could have converted the Council of the Plutocracy."

  "But, my dear fellow," I replied, "it was a great comfort to me to beable to tell that old rascal just what I thought of him. And youcan't tell--it may do some good."

  "No, no," said Max; "the only preacher that will ever convert thatcongregation is Caesar Lomellini. Caesar is a bigger brute than theyare--which is saying a good deal. The difference is, they are bruteswho are in possession of the good things of this world; and Caesar isa brute who wants to get into possession of them. And there isanother difference: they are polished and cultured brutes, and Caesaris the brute natural,--'the unaccommodated man' that Lear spoke of."

  CHAPTER XXII.

  ESTELLA AND I

  I need not say to you, my dear Heinrich, how greatly I love Estella.It is not alone for her beauty, although that is as perfect and asgraceful as the dream of some Greek artist hewn in immortal marble.That alone would have elicited merely my admiration. But there isthat in her which wins my profoundest respect and love--I had almostsaid my veneration. Her frame is but the crystal-clear covering of abright and pure soul, without stain or shadow or blemish. It does notseem possible for her to be otherwise than good. And yet, within thisgoodness, there is an hereditary character intrenched, capable, undernecessity, of all heroism--a fearless and a potent soul. And, besidesall this, she is a woman, womanly; a being not harsh and angular incharacter, but soft and lovable--

  "A countenance in which do meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles."

  You may judge, my dear brother, having gone through a similarexperience, how profoundly I was drawn to her; how absolute anecessity she seemed to my life. Neither was I a despairing lover;for had she not, at a time when death seemed imminent, avowed herlove for me? Yes, "_love_"--that was the word she used; and the lookwhich accompanied it gave the word a double emphasis. But there was agiant difficulty in my path. If she had compromised her maidenreserve in that particular, how could I take advantage of it? And howcould I still further take advantage of her lonely and friendlesscondition to press my suit? And yet I could not leave her alone toencounter all the dangers of the dreadful time whic
h I know too wellis approaching. If she had stood, happy and contented, in the midstof her family, under the shelter of father and mother, surrounded bybrothers and sisters, with a bright and peaceful future before her, Icould have found courage enough to press my suit, to throw myself ather feet, and woo her boldly, as man woos woman. But this poor,unhappy, friendless, lovely girl! What could I do? Day and night Ipondered the problem, and at last an expedient occurred to me.

  I called upon her. She had fled from the palace without a wardrobe. Awoman may be a heroine, but she is still a woman. Joan of Arc musthave given considerable thought to her cap and ribbons. Estella wasbusy, with a dressmaker, contriving several dresses. I asked her if Icould speak with her. She started, blushed a little, and led the wayinto another room. I closed the door.

  "My