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The War of the Worlds `
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by H. G. Wells [1898] `
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But who shall dwell in these worlds if they be `
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inhabited? . . . Are we or they Lords of the `
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World? . . . And how are all things made for man?-- `
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KEPLER (quoted in The Anatomy of Melancholy) `
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BOOK ONE `
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THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS `
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CHAPTER ONE `
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THE EVE OF THE WAR `
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No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth `
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century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by `
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intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as `
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men busied themselves about their various concerns they were `
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scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a `
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microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and `
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multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to `
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and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their `
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assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the `
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infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to `
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the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of `
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them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or `
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improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of `
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those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be `
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other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to `
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welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds `
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that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, `
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intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with `
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envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And `
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early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. `
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The planet Mars, I scarcely need remind the reader, revolves about the `
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sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000 miles, and the light and heat it `
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receives from the sun is barely half of that received by this world. `
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It must be, if the nebular hypothesis has any truth, older than our `
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world; and long before this earth ceased to be molten, life upon its `
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surface must have begun its course. The fact that it is scarcely one `
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seventh of the volume of the earth must have accelerated its cooling `
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to the temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water `
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and all that is necessary for the support of animated existence. `
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Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, that no writer, `
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up to the very end of the nineteenth century, expressed any idea that `
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intelligent life might have developed there far, or indeed at all, `
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beyond its earthly level. Nor was it generally understood that since `
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Mars is older than our earth, with scarcely a quarter of the `
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superficial area and remoter from the sun, it necessarily follows that `
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it is not only more distant from time's beginning but nearer its end. `
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The secular cooling that must someday overtake our planet has `
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already gone far indeed with our neighbour. Its physical condition is `
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still largely a mystery, but we know now that even in its equatorial `
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region the midday temperature barely approaches that of our coldest `
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winter. Its air is much more attenuated than ours, its oceans have `
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shrunk until they cover but a third of its surface, and as its slow `
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seasons change huge snowcaps gather and melt about either pole and `
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periodically inundate its temperate zones. That last stage of `
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exhaustion, which to us is still incredibly remote, has become a `
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present-day problem for the inhabitants of Mars. The immediate `
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pressure of necessity has brightened their intellects, enlarged their `
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powers, and hardened their hearts. And looking across space with `
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instruments, and intelligences such as we have scarcely dreamed of, `
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they see, at its nearest distance only 35,000,000 of miles sunward of `
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them, a morning star of hope, our own warmer planet, green with `
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vegetation and grey with water, with a cloudy atmosphere eloquent of `
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fertility, with glimpses through its drifting cloud wisps of broad `
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stretches of populous country and narrow, navy-crowded seas. `
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And we men, the creatures who inhabit this earth, must be to them `
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at least as alien and lowly as are the monkeys and lemurs to us. The `
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intellectual side of man already admits that life is an incessant `
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struggle for existence, and it would seem that this too is the belief `
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of the minds upon Mars. Their world is far gone in its cooling and `
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this world is still crowded with life, but crowded only with what they `
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regard as inferior animals. To carry warfare sunward is, indeed, `
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their only escape from the destruction that, generation after `
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generation, creeps upon them. `
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And before we judge of them too harshly we must remember what `
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ruthless and utter destruction our own species has wrought, not only `
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upon animals, such as the vanished bison and the dodo, but upon its `
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inferior races. The Tasmanians, in spite of their human likeness, `
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were entirely swept out of existence in a war of extermination waged `
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by European immigrants, in the space of fifty years. Are we such `
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apostles of mercy as to complain if the Martians warred in the same `
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spirit? `
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The Martians seem to have calculated their descent with amazing `
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subtlety--their mathematical learning is evidently far in excess of `
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ours--and to have carried out their preparations with a well-nigh `
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perfect unanimity. Had our instruments permitted it, we might have `
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seen the gathering trouble far back in the nineteenth century. Men `
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like Schiaparelli watched the red planet--it is odd, by-the-bye, that `
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for countless centuries Mars has been the star of war--but failed to `
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interpret the fluctuating appearances of the markings they mapped so `
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well. All that time the Martians must have been getting ready. `
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During the opposition of 1894 a great light was seen on the `
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illuminated part of the disk, first at the Lick Observatory, then by `
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Perrotin of Nice, and then by other observers. English readers heard `
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of it first in the issue of _Nature_ dated August 2. I am inclined to `
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think that this blaze may have been the casting of the huge gun, in `
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the vast pit sunk into their planet, from which their shots were fired `
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at us. Peculiar markings, as yet unexplained, were seen near the site `
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of that outbreak during the next two oppositions. `
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The storm burst upon us six years ago now. As Mars approached `
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opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires of the astronomical exchange `
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palpitating with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak of `
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incandescent gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight of `
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the twelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at once resorted, `
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indicated a mass of flaming gas, chiefly hydrogen, moving with an `
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enormous velocity towards this earth. This jet of fire had become `
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invisible about a quarter past twelve. He compared it to a colossal `
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puff of flame suddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, "as `
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flaming gases rushed out of a gun." `
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A singularly appropriate phrase it proved. Yet the next day there `
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was nothing of this in the papers except a little note in the _Daily `
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Telegraph_, and the world went in ignorance of one of the gravest `
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dangers that ever threatened the human race. I might not have heard of `
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the eruption at all had I not met Ogilvy, the well-known astronomer, `
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at Ottershaw. He was immensely excited at the news, and in the excess `
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of his feelings invited me up to take a turn with him that night in a `
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scrutiny of the red planet. `
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In spite of all that has happened since, I still remember that `
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vigil very distinctly: the black and silent observatory, the shadowed `
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lantern throwing a feeble glow upon the floor in the corner, the `
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steady ticking of the clockwork of the telescope, the little slit in `
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the roof--an oblong profundity with the stardust streaked across it. `
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Ogilvy moved about, invisible but audible. Looking through the `
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telescope, one saw a circle of deep blue and the little round planet `
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swimming in the field. It seemed such a little thing, so bright and `
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small and still, faintly marked with transverse stripes, and slightly `
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flattened from the perfect round. But so little it was, so silvery `
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warm--a pin's-head of light! It was as if it quivered, but really this `
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was the telescope vibrating with the activity of the clockwork that `
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kept the planet in view. `
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As I watched, the planet seemed to grow larger and smaller and to `
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advance and recede, but that was simply that my eye was tired. Forty `
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millions of miles it was from us--more than forty millions of miles of `
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void. Few people realise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust `
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of the material universe swims. `
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Near it in the field, I remember, were three faint points of light, `
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three telescopic stars infinitely remote, and all around it was the `
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unfathomable darkness of empty space. You know how that blackness `
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looks on a frosty starlight night. In a telescope it seems far `
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profounder. And invisible to me because it was so remote and small, `
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flying swiftly and steadily towards me across that incredible `
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distance, drawing nearer every minute by so many thousands of miles, `
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came the Thing they were sending us, the Thing that was to bring so `
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much struggle and calamity and death to the earth. I never dreamed of `
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it then as I watched; no one on earth dreamed of that unerring `
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missile. `
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That night, too, there was another jetting out of gas from the `
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distant planet. I saw it. A reddish flash at the edge, the slightest `
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projection of the outline just as the chronometer struck midnight; and `
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at that I told Ogilvy and he took my place. The night was warm and I `
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was thirsty, and I went stretching my legs clumsily and feeling my way `
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in the darkness, to the little table where the siphon stood, while `
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Ogilvy exclaimed at the streamer of gas that came out towards us. `
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That night another invisible missile started on its way to the `
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earth from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four hours after the `
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first one. I remember how I sat on the table there in the blackness, `
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with patches of green and crimson swimming before my eyes. I wished I `
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had a light to smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minute `
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gleam I had seen and all that it would presently bring me. Ogilvy `
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watched till one, and then gave it up; and we lit the lantern and `
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walked over to his house. Down below in the darkness were Ottershaw `
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and Chertsey and all their hundreds of people, sleeping in peace. `
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He was full of speculation that night about the condition of Mars, `
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and scoffed at the vulgar idea of its having inhabitants who were `
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signalling us. His idea was that meteorites might be falling in a `
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heavy shower upon the planet, or that a huge volcanic explosion was in `
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progress. He pointed out to me how unlikely it was that organic `
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evolution had taken the same direction in the two adjacent planets. `
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"The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to `
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one," he said. `
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Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the night after `
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about midnight, and again the night after; and so for ten nights, a `
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