Reading Help War of the worlds Book 2
few horses showed dismally. Haggard special constables with white `
` badges stood at the corners of every street. I saw little of the `
` mischief wrought by the Martians until I reached Wellington Street, `
` and there I saw the red weed clambering over the buttresses of `
` Waterloo Bridge. `
` `
` At the corner of the bridge, too, I saw one of the common contrasts `
` of that grotesque time--a sheet of paper flaunting against a thicket `
` of the red weed, transfixed by a stick that kept it in place. It was `
` the placard of the first newspaper to resume publication--the _Daily `
` Mail_. I bought a copy for a blackened shilling I found in my pocket. `
` Most of it was in blank, but the solitary compositor who did the thing `
` had amused himself by making a grotesque scheme of advertisement `
` stereo on the back page. The matter he printed was emotional; the `
` news organisation had not as yet found its way back. I learned `
` nothing fresh except that already in one week the examination of the `
` Martian mechanisms had yielded astonishing results. Among other `
` things, the article assured me what I did not believe at the time, `
` that the "Secret of Flying," was discovered. At Waterloo I found the `
` free trains that were taking people to their homes. The first rush `
` was already over. There were few people in the train, and I was in no `
` mood for casual conversation. I got a compartment to myself, and sat `
` with folded arms, looking greyly at the sunlit devastation that flowed `
` past the windows. And just outside the terminus the train jolted over `
` temporary rails, and on either side of the railway the houses were `
` blackened ruins. To Clapham Junction the face of London was grimy `
` with powder of the Black Smoke, in spite of two days of thunderstorms `
` and rain, and at Clapham Junction the line had been wrecked again; `
` there were hundreds of out-of-work clerks and shopmen working side by `
` side with the customary navvies, and we were jolted over a hasty `
` relaying. `
` `
` All down the line from there the aspect of the country was gaunt `
` and unfamiliar; Wimbledon particularly had suffered. Walton, by virtue `
` of its unburned pine woods, seemed the least hurt of any place along `
` the line. The Wandle, the Mole, every little stream, was a heaped `
` mass of red weed, in appearance between butcher's meat and pickled `
` cabbage. The Surrey pine woods were too dry, however, for the festoons `
` of the red climber. Beyond Wimbledon, within sight of the line, in `
` certain nursery grounds, were the heaped masses of earth about the `
` sixth cylinder. A number of people were standing about it, and some `
` sappers were busy in the midst of it. Over it flaunted a Union Jack, `
` flapping cheerfully in the morning breeze. The nursery grounds were `
` everywhere crimson with the weed, a wide expanse of livid colour cut `
` with purple shadows, and very painful to the eye. One's gaze went `
` with infinite relief from the scorched greys and sullen reds of the `
` foreground to the blue-green softness of the eastward hills. `
` `
` The line on the London side of Woking station was still undergoing `
` repair, so I descended at Byfleet station and took the road to `
` Maybury, past the place where I and the artilleryman had talked to the `
` hussars, and on by the spot where the Martian had appeared to me in `
` the thunderstorm. Here, moved by curiosity, I turned aside to find, `
` among a tangle of red fronds, the warped and broken dog cart with the `
` whitened bones of the horse scattered and gnawed. For a time I stood `
` regarding these vestiges. . . . `
` `
` Then I returned through the pine wood, neck-high with red weed here `
` and there, to find the landlord of the Spotted Dog had already found `
` burial, and so came home past the College Arms. A man standing at an `
` open cottage door greeted me by name as I passed. `
` `
` I looked at my house with a quick flash of hope that faded `
` immediately. The door had been forced; it was unfast and was opening `
` slowly as I approached. `
` `
` It slammed again. The curtains of my study fluttered out of the `
` open window from which I and the artilleryman had watched the dawn. No `
` one had closed it since. The smashed bushes were just as I had left `
` them nearly four weeks ago. I stumbled into the hall, and the house `
` felt empty. The stair carpet was ruffled and discoloured where I had `
` crouched, soaked to the skin from the thunderstorm the night of the `
` catastrophe. Our muddy footsteps I saw still went up the stairs. `
` `
` I followed them to my study, and found lying on my writing-table `
` still, with the selenite paper weight upon it, the sheet of work I had `
` left on the afternoon of the opening of the cylinder. For a space I `
` stood reading over my abandoned arguments. It was a paper on the `
` probable development of Moral Ideas with the development of the `
` civilising process; and the last sentence was the opening of a `
` prophecy: "In about two hundred years," I had written, "we may `
` expect----" The sentence ended abruptly. I remembered my inability `
` to fix my mind that morning, scarcely a month gone by, and how I had `
` broken off to get my _Daily Chronicle_ from the newsboy. I remembered `
` how I went down to the garden gate as he came along, and how I had `
` listened to his odd story of "Men from Mars." `
` `
` I came down and went into the dining room. There were the mutton `
` and the bread, both far gone now in decay, and a beer bottle `
` overturned, just as I and the artilleryman had left them. My home was `
` desolate. I perceived the folly of the faint hope I had cherished so `
` long. And then a strange thing occurred. "It is no use," said a `
` voice. "The house is deserted. No one has been here these ten days. `
` Do not stay here to torment yourself. No one escaped but you." `
` `
` I was startled. Had I spoken my thought aloud? I turned, and the `
` French window was open behind me. I made a step to it, and stood `
` looking out. `
` `
` And there, amazed and afraid, even as I stood amazed and afraid, `
` were my cousin and my wife--my wife white and tearless. She gave a `
` faint cry. `
` `
` "I came," she said. "I knew--knew----" `
` `
` She put her hand to her throat--swayed. I made a step forward, and `
` caught her in my arms. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TEN `
` `
` THE EPILOGUE `
` `
` `
` I cannot but regret, now that I am concluding my story, how little `
` I am able to contribute to the discussion of the many debatable `
` questions which are still unsettled. In one respect I shall certainly `
` provoke criticism. My particular province is speculative philosophy. `
` My knowledge of comparative physiology is confined to a book or two, `
` but it seems to me that Carver's suggestions as to the reason of the `
` rapid death of the Martians is so probable as to be regarded almost as `
` a proven conclusion. I have assumed that in the body of my narrative. `
` `
` At any rate, in all the bodies of the Martians that were examined `
` after the war, no bacteria except those already known as terrestrial `
` species were found. That they did not bury any of their dead, and the `
` reckless slaughter they perpetrated, point also to an entire ignorance `
` of the putrefactive process. But probable as this seems, it is by no `
` means a proven conclusion. `
` `
` Neither is the composition of the Black Smoke known, which the `
` Martians used with such deadly effect, and the generator of the `
` Heat-Rays remains a puzzle. The terrible disasters at the Ealing `
` and South Kensington laboratories have disinclined analysts for further `
` investigations upon the latter. Spectrum analysis of the black powder `
` points unmistakably to the presence of an unknown element with a `
` brilliant group of three lines in the green, and it is possible that `
` it combines with argon to form a compound which acts at once with `
` deadly effect upon some constituent in the blood. But such unproven `
` speculations will scarcely be of interest to the general reader, to `
` whom this story is addressed. None of the brown scum that drifted `
` down the Thames after the destruction of Shepperton was examined at `
` the time, and now none is forthcoming. `
` `
` The results of an anatomical examination of the Martians, so far `
` as the prowling dogs had left such an examination possible, I have `
` already given. But everyone is familiar with the magnificent and `
` almost complete specimen in spirits at the Natural History Museum, and `
` the countless drawings that have been made from it; and beyond that `
` the interest of their physiology and structure is purely scientific. `
` `
` A question of graver and universal interest is the possibility of `
` another attack from the Martians. I do not think that nearly enough `
` attention is being given to this aspect of the matter. At present the `
` planet Mars is in conjunction, but with every return to opposition I, `
` for one, anticipate a renewal of their adventure. In any case, we `
` should be prepared. It seems to me that it should be possible to `
` define the position of the gun from which the shots are discharged, to `
` keep a sustained watch upon this part of the planet, and to anticipate `
` the arrival of the next attack. `
` `
` In that case the cylinder might be destroyed with dynamite or `
` artillery before it was sufficiently cool for the Martians to emerge, `
` or they might be butchered by means of guns so soon as the screw `
` opened. It seems to me that they have lost a vast advantage in the `
` failure of their first surprise. Possibly they see it in the same `
` light. `
` `
` Lessing has advanced excellent reasons for supposing that the `
` Martians have actually succeeded in effecting a landing on the planet `
` Venus. Seven months ago now, Venus and Mars were in alignment with `
` the sun; that is to say, Mars was in opposition from the point of view `
` of an observer on Venus. Subsequently a peculiar luminous and sinuous `
` marking appeared on the unillumined half of the inner planet, and `
` almost simultaneously a faint dark mark of a similar sinuous character `
` was detected upon a photograph of the Martian disk. One needs to see `
` the drawings of these appearances in order to appreciate fully their `
` remarkable resemblance in character. `
` `
` At any rate, whether we expect another invasion or not, our views `
` of the human future must be greatly modified by these events. We have `
` learned now that we cannot regard this planet as being fenced in and a `
` secure abiding place for Man; we can never anticipate the unseen good `
` or evil that may come upon us suddenly out of space. It may be that `
` in the larger design of the universe this invasion from Mars is not `
` without its ultimate benefit for men; it has robbed us of that serene `
` confidence in the future which is the most fruitful source of `
` decadence, the gifts to human science it has brought are enormous, and `
` it has done much to promote the conception of the commonweal of `
` mankind. It may be that across the immensity of space the Martians `
` have watched the fate of these pioneers of theirs and learned their `
` lesson, and that on the planet Venus they have found a securer `
` settlement. Be that as it may, for many years yet there will `
` certainly be no relaxation of the eager scrutiny of the Martian disk, `
` and those fiery darts of the sky, the shooting stars, will bring with `
` them as they fall an unavoidable apprehension to all the sons of men. `
` `
` The broadening of men's views that has resulted can scarcely be `
` exaggerated. Before the cylinder fell there was a general persuasion `
` that through all the deep of space no life existed beyond the petty `
`
` badges stood at the corners of every street. I saw little of the `
` mischief wrought by the Martians until I reached Wellington Street, `
` and there I saw the red weed clambering over the buttresses of `
` Waterloo Bridge. `
` `
` At the corner of the bridge, too, I saw one of the common contrasts `
` of that grotesque time--a sheet of paper flaunting against a thicket `
` of the red weed, transfixed by a stick that kept it in place. It was `
` the placard of the first newspaper to resume publication--the _Daily `
` Mail_. I bought a copy for a blackened shilling I found in my pocket. `
` Most of it was in blank, but the solitary compositor who did the thing `
` had amused himself by making a grotesque scheme of advertisement `
` stereo on the back page. The matter he printed was emotional; the `
` news organisation had not as yet found its way back. I learned `
` nothing fresh except that already in one week the examination of the `
` Martian mechanisms had yielded astonishing results. Among other `
` things, the article assured me what I did not believe at the time, `
` that the "Secret of Flying," was discovered. At Waterloo I found the `
` free trains that were taking people to their homes. The first rush `
` was already over. There were few people in the train, and I was in no `
` mood for casual conversation. I got a compartment to myself, and sat `
` with folded arms, looking greyly at the sunlit devastation that flowed `
` past the windows. And just outside the terminus the train jolted over `
` temporary rails, and on either side of the railway the houses were `
` blackened ruins. To Clapham Junction the face of London was grimy `
` with powder of the Black Smoke, in spite of two days of thunderstorms `
` and rain, and at Clapham Junction the line had been wrecked again; `
` there were hundreds of out-of-work clerks and shopmen working side by `
` side with the customary navvies, and we were jolted over a hasty `
` relaying. `
` `
` All down the line from there the aspect of the country was gaunt `
` and unfamiliar; Wimbledon particularly had suffered. Walton, by virtue `
` of its unburned pine woods, seemed the least hurt of any place along `
` the line. The Wandle, the Mole, every little stream, was a heaped `
` mass of red weed, in appearance between butcher's meat and pickled `
` cabbage. The Surrey pine woods were too dry, however, for the festoons `
` of the red climber. Beyond Wimbledon, within sight of the line, in `
` certain nursery grounds, were the heaped masses of earth about the `
` sixth cylinder. A number of people were standing about it, and some `
` sappers were busy in the midst of it. Over it flaunted a Union Jack, `
` flapping cheerfully in the morning breeze. The nursery grounds were `
` everywhere crimson with the weed, a wide expanse of livid colour cut `
` with purple shadows, and very painful to the eye. One's gaze went `
` with infinite relief from the scorched greys and sullen reds of the `
` foreground to the blue-green softness of the eastward hills. `
` `
` The line on the London side of Woking station was still undergoing `
` repair, so I descended at Byfleet station and took the road to `
` Maybury, past the place where I and the artilleryman had talked to the `
` hussars, and on by the spot where the Martian had appeared to me in `
` the thunderstorm. Here, moved by curiosity, I turned aside to find, `
` among a tangle of red fronds, the warped and broken dog cart with the `
` whitened bones of the horse scattered and gnawed. For a time I stood `
` regarding these vestiges. . . . `
` `
` Then I returned through the pine wood, neck-high with red weed here `
` and there, to find the landlord of the Spotted Dog had already found `
` burial, and so came home past the College Arms. A man standing at an `
` open cottage door greeted me by name as I passed. `
` `
` I looked at my house with a quick flash of hope that faded `
` immediately. The door had been forced; it was unfast and was opening `
` slowly as I approached. `
` `
` It slammed again. The curtains of my study fluttered out of the `
` open window from which I and the artilleryman had watched the dawn. No `
` one had closed it since. The smashed bushes were just as I had left `
` them nearly four weeks ago. I stumbled into the hall, and the house `
` felt empty. The stair carpet was ruffled and discoloured where I had `
` crouched, soaked to the skin from the thunderstorm the night of the `
` catastrophe. Our muddy footsteps I saw still went up the stairs. `
` `
` I followed them to my study, and found lying on my writing-table `
` still, with the selenite paper weight upon it, the sheet of work I had `
` left on the afternoon of the opening of the cylinder. For a space I `
` stood reading over my abandoned arguments. It was a paper on the `
` probable development of Moral Ideas with the development of the `
` civilising process; and the last sentence was the opening of a `
` prophecy: "In about two hundred years," I had written, "we may `
` expect----" The sentence ended abruptly. I remembered my inability `
` to fix my mind that morning, scarcely a month gone by, and how I had `
` broken off to get my _Daily Chronicle_ from the newsboy. I remembered `
` how I went down to the garden gate as he came along, and how I had `
` listened to his odd story of "Men from Mars." `
` `
` I came down and went into the dining room. There were the mutton `
` and the bread, both far gone now in decay, and a beer bottle `
` overturned, just as I and the artilleryman had left them. My home was `
` desolate. I perceived the folly of the faint hope I had cherished so `
` long. And then a strange thing occurred. "It is no use," said a `
` voice. "The house is deserted. No one has been here these ten days. `
` Do not stay here to torment yourself. No one escaped but you." `
` `
` I was startled. Had I spoken my thought aloud? I turned, and the `
` French window was open behind me. I made a step to it, and stood `
` looking out. `
` `
` And there, amazed and afraid, even as I stood amazed and afraid, `
` were my cousin and my wife--my wife white and tearless. She gave a `
` faint cry. `
` `
` "I came," she said. "I knew--knew----" `
` `
` She put her hand to her throat--swayed. I made a step forward, and `
` caught her in my arms. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TEN `
` `
` THE EPILOGUE `
` `
` `
` I cannot but regret, now that I am concluding my story, how little `
` I am able to contribute to the discussion of the many debatable `
` questions which are still unsettled. In one respect I shall certainly `
` provoke criticism. My particular province is speculative philosophy. `
` My knowledge of comparative physiology is confined to a book or two, `
` but it seems to me that Carver's suggestions as to the reason of the `
` rapid death of the Martians is so probable as to be regarded almost as `
` a proven conclusion. I have assumed that in the body of my narrative. `
` `
` At any rate, in all the bodies of the Martians that were examined `
` after the war, no bacteria except those already known as terrestrial `
` species were found. That they did not bury any of their dead, and the `
` reckless slaughter they perpetrated, point also to an entire ignorance `
` of the putrefactive process. But probable as this seems, it is by no `
` means a proven conclusion. `
` `
` Neither is the composition of the Black Smoke known, which the `
` Martians used with such deadly effect, and the generator of the `
` Heat-Rays remains a puzzle. The terrible disasters at the Ealing `
` and South Kensington laboratories have disinclined analysts for further `
` investigations upon the latter. Spectrum analysis of the black powder `
` points unmistakably to the presence of an unknown element with a `
` brilliant group of three lines in the green, and it is possible that `
` it combines with argon to form a compound which acts at once with `
` deadly effect upon some constituent in the blood. But such unproven `
` speculations will scarcely be of interest to the general reader, to `
` whom this story is addressed. None of the brown scum that drifted `
` down the Thames after the destruction of Shepperton was examined at `
` the time, and now none is forthcoming. `
` `
` The results of an anatomical examination of the Martians, so far `
` as the prowling dogs had left such an examination possible, I have `
` already given. But everyone is familiar with the magnificent and `
` almost complete specimen in spirits at the Natural History Museum, and `
` the countless drawings that have been made from it; and beyond that `
` the interest of their physiology and structure is purely scientific. `
` `
` A question of graver and universal interest is the possibility of `
` another attack from the Martians. I do not think that nearly enough `
` attention is being given to this aspect of the matter. At present the `
` planet Mars is in conjunction, but with every return to opposition I, `
` for one, anticipate a renewal of their adventure. In any case, we `
` should be prepared. It seems to me that it should be possible to `
` define the position of the gun from which the shots are discharged, to `
` keep a sustained watch upon this part of the planet, and to anticipate `
` the arrival of the next attack. `
` `
` In that case the cylinder might be destroyed with dynamite or `
` artillery before it was sufficiently cool for the Martians to emerge, `
` or they might be butchered by means of guns so soon as the screw `
` opened. It seems to me that they have lost a vast advantage in the `
` failure of their first surprise. Possibly they see it in the same `
` light. `
` `
` Lessing has advanced excellent reasons for supposing that the `
` Martians have actually succeeded in effecting a landing on the planet `
` Venus. Seven months ago now, Venus and Mars were in alignment with `
` the sun; that is to say, Mars was in opposition from the point of view `
` of an observer on Venus. Subsequently a peculiar luminous and sinuous `
` marking appeared on the unillumined half of the inner planet, and `
` almost simultaneously a faint dark mark of a similar sinuous character `
` was detected upon a photograph of the Martian disk. One needs to see `
` the drawings of these appearances in order to appreciate fully their `
` remarkable resemblance in character. `
` `
` At any rate, whether we expect another invasion or not, our views `
` of the human future must be greatly modified by these events. We have `
` learned now that we cannot regard this planet as being fenced in and a `
` secure abiding place for Man; we can never anticipate the unseen good `
` or evil that may come upon us suddenly out of space. It may be that `
` in the larger design of the universe this invasion from Mars is not `
` without its ultimate benefit for men; it has robbed us of that serene `
` confidence in the future which is the most fruitful source of `
` decadence, the gifts to human science it has brought are enormous, and `
` it has done much to promote the conception of the commonweal of `
` mankind. It may be that across the immensity of space the Martians `
` have watched the fate of these pioneers of theirs and learned their `
` lesson, and that on the planet Venus they have found a securer `
` settlement. Be that as it may, for many years yet there will `
` certainly be no relaxation of the eager scrutiny of the Martian disk, `
` and those fiery darts of the sky, the shooting stars, will bring with `
` them as they fall an unavoidable apprehension to all the sons of men. `
` `
` The broadening of men's views that has resulted can scarcely be `
` exaggerated. Before the cylinder fell there was a general persuasion `
` that through all the deep of space no life existed beyond the petty `
`