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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:08 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:08 -0700 |
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diff --git a/12163-h/12163-h.htm b/12163-h/12163-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5b7d5f --- /dev/null +++ b/12163-h/12163-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10678 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sleeper Awakes, by H.G. Wells</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12163 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SLEEPER AWAKES + </h1> + <h3> + A Revised Edition of “When the Sleeper Wakes” + </h3> + <h2> + By H.G. Wells + </h2> + <h4> + 1899 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE SLEEPER AWAKES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — INSOMNIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — THE TRANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — THE AWAKENING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE SOUND OF A TUMULT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — THE MOVING WAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — THE HALL OF THE ATLAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — IN THE SILENT ROOMS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — THE ROOF SPACES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — THE PEOPLE MARCH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — THE BATTLE OF THE DARKNESS + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — THE OLD MAN WHO KNEW + EVERYTHING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — OSTROG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — THE END OF THE OLD ORDER + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — FROM THE CROW’S NEST + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — PROMINENT PEOPLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — THE MONOPLANE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — THREE DAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — GRAHAM REMEMBERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — OSTROG’S POINT OF VIEW + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — IN THE CITY WAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — THE UNDER-SIDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — THE STRUGGLE IN THE COUNCIL + HOUSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — GRAHAM SPEAKS HIS WORD + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — WHILE THE AEROPLANES WERE + COMING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — THE COMING OF THE AEROPLANES + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION + </h2> + <p> + <i>When the Sleeper Wakes</i>, whose title I have now altered to <i>The + Sleeper Awakes</i>, was first published as a book in 1899 after a serial + appearance in the <i>Graphic</i> and one or two American and colonial + periodicals. It is one of the most ambitious and least satisfactory of my + books, and I have taken the opportunity afforded by this reprinting to + make a number of excisions and alterations. Like most of my earlier work, + it was written under considerable pressure; there are marks of haste not + only in the writing of the latter part, but in the very construction of + the story. Except for certain streaks of a slovenliness which seems to be + an almost unavoidable defect in me, there is little to be ashamed of in + the writing of the opening portion; but it will be fairly manifest to the + critic that instead of being put aside and thought over through a + leisurely interlude, the ill-conceived latter part was pushed to its end. + I was at that time overworked, and badly in need of a holiday. In addition + to various necessary journalistic tasks, I had in hand another book, <i>Love + and Mr. Lewisham</i>, which had taken a very much stronger hold upon my + affections than this present story. My circumstances demanded that one or + other should be finished before I took any rest, and so I wound up the + Sleeper sufficiently to make it a marketable work, hoping to be able to + revise it before the book printers at any rate got hold of it. But fortune + was against me. I came back to England from Italy only to fall dangerously + ill, and I still remember the impotent rage and strain of my attempt to + put some sort of finish to my story of Mr. Lewisham, with my temperature + at a hundred and two. I couldn’t endure the thought of leaving that + book a fragment. I did afterwards contrive to save it from the + consequences of that febrile spurt—<i>Love and Mr. Lewisham</i> is + indeed one of my most carefully balanced books—but the Sleeper + escaped me. + </p> + <p> + It is twelve years now since the Sleeper was written, and that young man + of thirty-one is already too remote for me to attempt any very drastic + reconstruction of his work. I have played now merely the part of an + editorial elder brother: cut out relentlessly a number of long tiresome + passages that showed all too plainly the fagged, toiling brain, the heavy + sluggish <i>driven</i> pen, and straightened out certain indecisions at + the end. Except for that, I have done no more than hack here and there at + clumsy phrases and repetitions. The worst thing in the earlier version, + and the thing that rankled most in my mind, was the treatment of the + relations of Helen Wotton and Graham. Haste in art is almost always + vulgarisation, and I slipped into the obvious vulgarity of making what the + newspaper syndicates call a “love interest” out of Helen. + There was even a clumsy intimation that instead of going up in the + flying-machine to fight, Graham might have given in to Ostrog, and married + Helen. I have now removed the suggestion of these uncanny connubialities. + Not the slightest intimation of any sexual interest could in truth have + arisen between these two. They loved and kissed one another, but as a girl + and her heroic grandfather might love, and in a crisis kiss. I have found + it possible, without any very serious disarrangement, to clear all that + objectionable stuff out of the story, and so a little ease my conscience + on the score of this ungainly lapse. I have also, with a few strokes of + the pen, eliminated certain dishonest and regrettable suggestions that the + People beat Ostrog. My Graham dies, as all his kind must die, with no + certainty of either victory or defeat. + </p> + <p> + Who will win—Ostrog or the People? A thousand years hence that will + still be just the open question we leave to-day. + </p> + <h3> + H.G. WELLS. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SLEEPER AWAKES + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — INSOMNIA + </h2> + <p> + One afternoon, at low water, Mr. Isbister, a young artist lodging at + Boscastle, walked from that place to the picturesque cove of Pentargen, + desiring to examine the caves there. Halfway down the precipitous path to + the Pentargen beach he came suddenly upon a man sitting in an attitude of + profound distress beneath a projecting mass of rock. The hands of this man + hung limply over his knees, his eyes were red and staring before him, and + his face was wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + He glanced round at Isbister’s footfall. Both men were disconcerted, + Isbister the more so, and, to override the awkwardness of his involuntary + pause, he remarked, with an air of mature conviction, that the weather was + hot for the time of year. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” answered the stranger shortly, hesitated a second, and + added in a colourless tone, “I can’t sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Isbister stopped abruptly. “No?” was all he said, but his + bearing conveyed his helpful impulse. + </p> + <p> + “It may sound incredible,” said the stranger, turning weary + eyes to Isbister’s face and emphasizing his words with a languid + hand, “but I have had no sleep—no sleep at all for six nights.” + </p> + <p> + “Had advice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Bad advice for the most part. Drugs. My nervous system.... + They are all very well for the run of people. It’s hard to explain. + I dare not take ... sufficiently powerful drugs.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes it difficult,” said Isbister. + </p> + <p> + He stood helplessly in the narrow path, perplexed what to do. Clearly the + man wanted to talk. An idea natural enough under the circumstances, + prompted him to keep the conversation going. “I’ve never + suffered from sleeplessness myself,” he said in a tone of + commonplace gossip, “but in those cases I have known, people have + usually found something—” + </p> + <p> + “I dare make no experiments.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke wearily. He gave a gesture of rejection, and for a space both men + were silent. + </p> + <p> + “Exercise?” suggested Isbister diffidently, with a glance from + his interlocutor’s face of wretchedness to the touring costume he + wore. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I have tried. Unwisely perhaps. I have followed the + coast, day after day—from New Quay. It has only added muscular + fatigue to the mental. The cause of this unrest was overwork—trouble. + There was something—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped as if from sheer fatigue. He rubbed his forehead with a lean + hand. He resumed speech like one who talks to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I am a lone wolf, a solitary man, wandering through a world in + which I have no part. I am wifeless—childless—who is it speaks + of the childless as the dead twigs on the tree of life? I am wifeless, + childless—I could find no duty to do. No desire even in my heart. + One thing at last I set myself to do. + </p> + <p> + “I said, I <i>will</i> do this, and to do it, to overcome the + inertia of this dull body, I resorted to drugs. Great God, I’ve had + enough of drugs! I don’t know if <i>you</i> feel the heavy + inconvenience of the body, its exasperating demand of time from the mind—time—life! + Live! We only live in patches. We have to eat, and then comes the dull + digestive complacencies—or irritations. We have to take the air or + else our thoughts grow sluggish, stupid, run into gulfs and blind alleys. + A thousand distractions arise from within and without, and then comes + drowsiness and sleep. Men seem to live for sleep. How little of a man’s + day is his own—even at the best! And then come those false friends, + those Thug helpers, the alkaloids that stifle natural fatigue and kill + rest—black coffee, cocaine—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Isbister. + </p> + <p> + “I did my work,” said the sleepless man with a querulous + intonation. + </p> + <p> + “And this is the price?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + For a little while the two remained without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot imagine the craving for rest that I feel—a hunger + and thirst. For six long days, since my work was done, my mind has been a + whirlpool, swift, unprogressive and incessant, a torrent of thoughts + leading nowhere, spinning round swift and steady—” He paused. + “Towards the gulf.” + </p> + <p> + “You must sleep,” said Isbister decisively, and with an air of + a remedy discovered. “Certainly you must sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “My mind is perfectly lucid. It was never clearer. But I know I am + drawing towards the vortex. Presently—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen things go down an eddy? Out of the light of the day, + out of this sweet world of sanity—down—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” expostulated Isbister. + </p> + <p> + The man threw out a hand towards him, and his eyes were wild, and his + voice suddenly high. “I shall kill myself. If in no other way—at + the foot of yonder dark precipice there, where the waves are green, and + the white surge lifts and falls, and that little thread of water trembles + down. There at any rate is ... sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s unreasonable,” said Isbister, startled at the + man’s hysterical gust of emotion. “Drugs are better than that.” + </p> + <p> + “There at any rate is sleep,” repeated the stranger, not + heeding him. + </p> + <p> + Isbister looked at him. “It’s not a cert, you know,” he + remarked. “There’s a cliff like that at Lulworth Cove—as + high, anyhow—and a little girl fell from top to bottom. And lives + to-day—sound and well.” + </p> + <p> + “But those rocks there?” + </p> + <p> + “One might lie on them rather dismally through a cold night, broken + bones grating as one shivered, chill water splashing over you. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. “Sorry to upset your ideals,” said Isbister + with a sense of devil-may-careish brilliance. “But a suicide over + that cliff (or any cliff for the matter of that), really, as an artist—” + He laughed. “It’s so damned amateurish.” + </p> + <p> + “But the other thing,” said the sleepless man irritably, + “the other thing. No man can keep sane if night after night—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been walking along this coast alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly sort of thing to do. If you’ll excuse my saying so. + Alone! As you say; body fag is no cure for brain fag. Who told you to? No + wonder; walking! And the sun on your head, heat, fag, solitude, all the + day long, and then, I suppose, you go to bed and try very hard—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Isbister stopped short and looked at the sufferer doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Look at these rocks!” cried the seated man with a sudden + force of gesture. “Look at that sea that has shone and quivered + there for ever! See the white spume rush into darkness under that great + cliff. And this blue vault, with the blinding sun pouring from the dome of + it. It is your world. You accept it, you rejoice in it. It warms and + supports and delights you. And for me—” + </p> + <p> + He turned his head and showed a ghastly face, bloodshot pallid eyes and + bloodless lips. He spoke almost in a whisper. “It is the garment of + my misery. The whole world ... is the garment of my misery.” + </p> + <p> + Isbister looked at all the wild beauty of the sunlit cliffs about them and + back to that face of despair. For a moment he was silent. + </p> + <p> + He started, and made a gesture of impatient rejection. “You get a + night’s sleep,” he said, “and you won’t see much + misery out here. Take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + He was quite sure now that this was a providential encounter. Only half an + hour ago he had been feeling horribly bored. Here was employment the bare + thought of which, was righteous self-applause. He took possession + forthwith. The first need of this exhausted being was companionship. He + flung himself down on the steeply sloping turf beside the motionless + seated figure, and threw out a skirmishing line of gossip. + </p> + <p> + His hearer lapsed into apathy; he stared dismally seaward, and spoke only + in answer to Isbister’s direct questions—and not to all of + those. But he made no objection to this benevolent intrusion upon his + despair. + </p> + <p> + He seemed even grateful, and when presently Isbister, feeling that his + unsupported talk was losing vigour, suggested that they should reascend + the steep and return towards Boscastle, alleging the view into Blackapit, + he submitted quietly. Halfway up he began talking to himself, and abruptly + turned a ghastly face on his helper. “What can be happening?” + he asked with a gaunt illustrative hand. “What can be happening? + Spin, spin, spin, spin. It goes round and round, round and round for + evermore.” + </p> + <p> + He stood with his hand circling. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, old chap,” said Isbister with the air + of an old friend. “Don’t worry yourself. Trust to me,” + </p> + <p> + The man dropped his hand and turned again. They went over the brow and to + the headland beyond Penally, with the sleepless man gesticulating ever and + again, and speaking fragmentary things concerning his whirling brain. At + the headland they stood by the seat that looks into the dark mysteries of + Blackapit, and then he sat down. Isbister had resumed his talk whenever + the path had widened sufficiently for them to walk abreast. He was + enlarging upon the complex difficulty of making Boscastle Harbour in bad + weather, when suddenly and quite irrelevantly his companion interrupted + him again. + </p> + <p> + “My head is not like what it was,” he said, gesticulating for + want of expressive phrases. “It’s not like what it was. There + is a sort of oppression, a weight. No—not drowsiness, would God it + were! It is like a shadow, a deep shadow falling suddenly and swiftly + across something busy. Spin, spin into the darkness. The tumult of + thought, the confusion, the eddy and eddy. I can’t express it. I can + hardly keep my mind on it—steadily enough to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble, old chap,” said Isbister. “I think + I can understand. At any rate, it don’t matter very much just at + present about telling me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The sleepless man thrust his knuckles into his eyes and rubbed them. + Isbister talked for awhile while this rubbing continued, and then he had a + fresh idea. “Come down to my room,” he said, “and try a + pipe. I can show you some sketches of this Blackapit. If you’d care?” + </p> + <p> + The other rose obediently and followed him down the steep. + </p> + <p> + Several times Isbister heard him stumble as they came down, and his + movements were slow and hesitating. “Come in with me,” said + Isbister, “and try some cigarettes and the blessed gift of alcohol. + If you take alcohol?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger hesitated at the garden gate. He seemed no longer aware of + his actions. “I don’t drink,” he said slowly, coming up + the garden path, and after a moment’s interval repeated absently, + “No—I don’t drink. It goes round. Spin, it goes—spin—” + </p> + <p> + He stumbled at the doorstep and entered the room with the bearing of one + who sees nothing. + </p> + <p> + Then he sat down heavily in the easy chair, seemed almost to fall into it. + He leant forward with his brows on his hands and became motionless. + Presently he made a faint sound in his throat. + </p> + <p> + Isbister moved about the room with the nervousness of an inexperienced + host, making little remarks that scarcely required answering. He crossed + the room to his portfolio, placed it on the table and noticed the mantel + clock. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know if you’d care to have supper with me,” + he said with an unlighted cigarette in his hand—his mind troubled + with ideas of a furtive administration of chloral. “Only cold + mutton, you know, but passing sweet. Welsh. And a tart, I believe.” + He repeated this after momentary silence. + </p> + <p> + The seated man made no answer. Isbister stopped, match in hand, regarding + him. + </p> + <p> + The stillness lengthened. The match went out, the cigarette was put down + unlit. The man was certainly very still. Isbister took up the portfolio, + opened it, put it down, hesitated, seemed about to speak. “Perhaps,” + he whispered doubtfully. Presently he glanced at the door and back to the + figure. Then he stole on tiptoe out of the room, glancing at his companion + after each elaborate pace. + </p> + <p> + He closed the door noiselessly. The house door was standing open, and he + went out beyond the porch, and stood where the monkshood rose at the + corner of the garden bed. From this point he could see the stranger + through the open window, still and dim, sitting head on hand. He had not + moved. + </p> + <p> + A number of children going along the road stopped and regarded the artist + curiously. A boatman exchanged civilities with him. He felt that possibly + his circumspect attitude and position looked peculiar and unaccountable. + Smoking, perhaps, might seem more natural. He drew pipe and pouch from his + pocket, filled the pipe slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” ... he said, with a scarcely perceptible loss of + complacency. “At any rate one must give him a chance.” He + struck a match in the virile way, and proceeded to light his pipe. + </p> + <p> + He heard his landlady behind him, coming with his lamp lit from the + kitchen. He turned, gesticulating with his pipe, and stopped her at the + door of his sitting-room. He had some difficulty in explaining the + situation in whispers, for she did not know he had a visitor. She + retreated again with the lamp, still a little mystified to judge from her + manner, and he resumed his hovering at the corner of the porch, flushed + and less at his ease. + </p> + <p> + Long after he had smoked out his pipe, and when the bats were abroad, + curiosity dominated his complex hesitations, and he stole back into his + darkling sitting-room. He paused in the doorway. The stranger was still in + the same attitude, dark against the window. Save for the singing of some + sailors aboard one of the little slate-carrying ships in the harbour the + evening was very still. Outside, the spikes of monkshood and delphinium + stood erect and motionless against the shadow of the hillside. Something + flashed into Isbister’s mind; he started, and leaning over the + table, listened. An unpleasant suspicion grew stronger; became conviction. + Astonishment seized him and became—dread! + </p> + <p> + No sound of breathing came from the seated figure! + </p> + <p> + He crept slowly and noiselessly round the table, pausing twice to listen. + At last he could lay his hand on the back of the armchair. He bent down + until the two heads were ear to ear. + </p> + <p> + Then he bent still lower to look up at his visitor’s face. He + started violently and uttered an exclamation. The eyes were void spaces of + white. + </p> + <p> + He looked again and saw that they were open and with the pupils rolled + under the lids. He was afraid. He took the man by the shoulder and shook + him. “Are you asleep?” he said, with his voice jumping, and + again, “Are you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + A conviction took possession of his mind that this man was dead. He became + active and noisy, strode across the room, blundering against the table as + he did so, and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Please bring a light at once,” he said in the passage. + “There is something wrong with my friend.” + </p> + <p> + He returned to the motionless seated figure, grasped the shoulder, shook + it, shouted. The room was flooded with yellow glare as his landlady + entered with the light. His face was white as he turned blinking towards + her. “I must fetch a doctor,” he said. “It is either + death or a fit. Is there a doctor in the village? Where is a doctor to be + found?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — THE TRANCE + </h2> + <p> + The state of cataleptic rigour into which this man had fallen, lasted for + an unprecedented length of time, and then he passed slowly to the flaccid + state, to a lax attitude suggestive of profound repose. Then it was his + eyes could be closed. + </p> + <p> + He was removed from the hotel to the Boscastle surgery, and from the + surgery, after some weeks, to London. But he still resisted every attempt + at reanimation. After a time, for reasons that will appear later, these + attempts were discontinued. For a great space he lay in that strange + condition, inert and still—neither dead nor living but, as it were, + suspended, hanging midway between nothingness and existence. His was a + darkness unbroken by a ray of thought or sensation, a dreamless inanition, + a vast space of peace. The tumult of his mind had swelled and risen to an + abrupt climax of silence. Where was the man? Where is any man when + insensibility takes hold of him? + </p> + <p> + “It seems only yesterday,” said Isbister. “I remember it + all as though it happened yesterday—clearer, perhaps, than if it had + happened yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + It was the Isbister of the last chapter, but he was no longer a young man. + The hair that had been brown and a trifle in excess of the fashionable + length, was iron grey and clipped close, and the face that had been pink + and white was buff and ruddy. He had a pointed beard shot with grey. He + talked to an elderly man who wore a summer suit of drill (the summer of + that year was unusually hot). This was Warming, a London solicitor and + next of kin to Graham, the man who had fallen into the trance. And the two + men stood side by side in a room in a house in London regarding his + recumbent figure. + </p> + <p> + It was a yellow figure lying lax upon a water-bed and clad in a flowing + shirt, a figure with a shrunken face and a stubby beard, lean limbs and + lank nails, and about it was a case of thin glass. This glass seemed to + mark off the sleeper from the reality of life about him, he was a thing + apart, a strange, isolated abnormality. The two men stood close to the + glass, peering in. + </p> + <p> + “The thing gave me a shock,” said Isbister. “I feel a + queer sort of surprise even now when I think of his white eyes. They were + white, you know, rolled up. Coming here again brings it all back to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never seen him since that time?” asked Warming. + </p> + <p> + “Often wanted to come,” said Isbister; “but business + nowadays is too serious a thing for much holiday keeping. I’ve been + in America most of the time.” + </p> + <p> + “If I remember rightly,” said Warming, “you were an + artist?” + </p> + <p> + “Was. And then I became a married man. I saw it was all up with + black and white, very soon—at least for a mediocrity, and I jumped + on to process. Those posters on the Cliffs at Dover are by my people.” + </p> + <p> + “Good posters,” admitted the solicitor, “though I was + sorry to see them there.” + </p> + <p> + “Last as long as the cliffs, if necessary,” exclaimed Isbister + with satisfaction. “The world changes. When he fell asleep, twenty + years ago, I was down at Boscastle with a box of water-colours and a + noble, old-fashioned ambition. I didn’t expect that some day my + pigments would glorify the whole blessed coast of England, from Land’s + End round again to the Lizard. Luck comes to a man very often when he’s + not looking.” + </p> + <p> + Warming seemed to doubt the quality of the luck. “I just missed + seeing you, if I recollect aright.” + </p> + <p> + “You came back by the trap that took me to Camelford railway + station. It was close on the Jubilee, Victoria’s Jubilee, because I + remember the seats and flags in Westminster, and the row with the cabman + at Chelsea.” + </p> + <p> + “The Diamond Jubilee, it was,” said Warming; “the second + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! At the proper Jubilee—the Fifty Year affair—I + was down at Wookey—a boy. I missed all that.... What a fuss we had + with him! My landlady wouldn’t take him in, wouldn’t let him + stay—he looked so queer when he was rigid. We had to carry him in a + chair up to the hotel. And the Boscastle doctor—it wasn’t the + present chap, but the G.P. before him—was at him until nearly two, + with me and the landlord holding lights and so forth.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—he was stiff and hard?” + </p> + <p> + “Stiff!—wherever you bent him he stuck. You might have stood + him on his head and he’d have stopped. I never saw such stiffness. + Of course this”—he indicated the prostrate figure by a + movement of his head—“is quite different. And the little + doctor—what was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers?” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers it was—was quite wrong in trying to fetch him round + too soon, according to all accounts. The things he did! Even now it makes + me feel all—ugh! Mustard, snuff, pricking. And one of those beastly + little things, not dynamos—” + </p> + <p> + “Coils.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You could see his muscles throb and jump, and he twisted + about. There were just two flaring yellow candles, and all the shadows + were shivering, and the little doctor nervous and putting on side, and <i>him</i>—stark + and squirming in the most unnatural ways. Well, it made me dream.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a strange state,” said Warming. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a sort of complete absence,” said Isbister. + “Here’s the body, empty. Not dead a bit, and yet not alive. It’s + like a seat vacant and marked ‘engaged.’ No feeling, no + digestion, no beating of the heart—not a flutter. <i>That</i> doesn’t + make me feel as if there was a man present. In a sense it’s more + dead than death, for these doctors tell me that even the hair has stopped + growing. Now with the proper dead, the hair will go on growing—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Warming, with a flash of pain in his + expression. + </p> + <p> + They peered through the glass again. Graham was indeed in a strange state, + in the flaccid phase of a trance, but a trance unprecedented in medical + history. Trances had lasted for as much as a year before—but at the + end of that time it had ever been a waking or a death; sometimes first one + and then the other. Isbister noted the marks the physicians had made in + injecting nourishment, for that had been resorted to to postpone collapse; + he pointed them out to Warming, who had been trying not to see them. + </p> + <p> + “And while he has been lying here,” said Isbister, with the + zest of a life freely spent, “I have changed my plans in life; + married, raised a family, my eldest lad—I hadn’t begun to + think of sons then—is an American citizen, and looking forward to + leaving Harvard. There’s a touch of grey in my hair. And this man, + not a day older nor wiser (practically) than I was in my downy days. It’s + curious to think of.” + </p> + <p> + Warming turned. “And I have grown old too. I played cricket with him + when I was still only a boy. And he looks a young man still. Yellow + perhaps. But that <i>is</i> a young man nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + “And there’s been the War,” said Isbister. + </p> + <p> + “From beginning to end.” + </p> + <p> + “And these Martians.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve understood,” said Isbister after a pause, “that + he had some moderate property of his own?” + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” said Warming. He coughed primly. “As it + happens—I have charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Isbister thought, hesitated and spoke: “No doubt—his + keep here is not expensive—no doubt it will have improved—accumulated?” + </p> + <p> + “It has. He will wake up very much better off—if he wakes—than + when he slept.” + </p> + <p> + “As a business man,” said Isbister, “that thought has + naturally been in my mind. I have, indeed, sometimes thought that, + speaking commercially, of course, this sleep may be a very good thing for + him. That he knows what he is about, so to speak, in being insensible so + long. If he had lived straight on—” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if he would have premeditated as much,” said Warming. + “He was not a far-sighted man. In fact—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “We differed on that point. I stood to him somewhat in the relation + of a guardian. You have probably seen enough of affairs to recognise that + occasionally a certain friction—. But even if that was the case, + there is a doubt whether he will ever wake. This sleep exhausts slowly, + but it exhausts. Apparently he is sliding slowly, very slowly and + tediously, down a long slope, if you can understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a pity to lose his surprise. There’s been a lot of + change these twenty years. It’s Rip Van Winkle come real.” + </p> + <p> + “There has been a lot of change certainly,” said Warming. + “And, among other changes, I have changed. I am an old man.” + </p> + <p> + Isbister hesitated, and then feigned a belated surprise. “I shouldn’t + have thought it.” + </p> + <p> + “I was forty-three when his bankers—you remember you wired to + his bankers—sent on to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I got their address from the cheque book in his pocket,” said + Isbister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the addition is not difficult,” said Warming. + </p> + <p> + There was another pause, and then Isbister gave way to an unavoidable + curiosity. “He may go on for years yet,” he said, and had a + moment of hesitation. “We have to consider that. His affairs, you + know, may fall some day into the hands of—someone else, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “That, if you will believe me, Mr. Isbister, is one of the problems + most constantly before my mind. We happen to be—as a matter of fact, + there are no very trustworthy connexions of ours. It is a grotesque and + unprecedented position.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” said Isbister. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me it’s a case of some public body, some + practically undying guardian. If he really is going on living—as the + doctors, some of them, think. As a matter of fact, I have gone to one or + two public men about it. But, so far, nothing has been done.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hand him over to some public + body—the British Museum Trustees, or the Royal College of + Physicians. Sounds a bit odd, of course, but the whole situation is odd.” + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty is to induce them to take him.” + </p> + <p> + “Red tape, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. “It’s a curious business, certainly,” said + Isbister. “And compound interest has a way of mounting up.” + </p> + <p> + “It has,” said Warming. “And now the gold supplies are + running short there is a tendency towards ... appreciation.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve felt that,” said Isbister with a grimace. “But + it makes it better for <i>him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>If</i> he wakes.” + </p> + <p> + “If he wakes,” echoed Isbister. “Do you notice the + pinched-in look of his nose, and the way in which his eyelids sink?” + </p> + <p> + Warming looked and thought for a space. “I doubt if he will wake,” + he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “I never properly understood,” said Isbister, “what it + was brought this on. He told me something about overstudy. I’ve + often been curious.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a man of considerable gifts, but spasmodic, emotional. He + had grave domestic troubles, divorced his wife, in fact, and it was as a + relief from that, I think, that he took up politics of the rabid sort. He + was a fanatical Radical—a Socialist—or typical Liberal, as + they used to call themselves, of the advanced school. Energetic—flighty—undisciplined. + Overwork upon a controversy did this for him. I remember the pamphlet he + wrote—a curious production. Wild, whirling stuff. There were one or + two prophecies. Some of them are already exploded, some of them are + established facts. But for the most part to read such a thesis is to + realise how full the world is of unanticipated things. He will have much + to learn, much to unlearn, when he wakes. If ever a waking comes.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d give anything to be there,” said Isbister, “just + to hear what he would say to it all.” + </p> + <p> + “So would I,” said Warming. “Aye! so would I,” + with an old man’s sudden turn to self pity. “But I shall never + see him wake.” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking thoughtfully at the waxen figure. “He will never + awake,” he said at last. He sighed. “He will never awake + again.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — THE AWAKENING + </h2> + <p> + But Warming was wrong in that. An awakening came. + </p> + <p> + What a wonderfully complex thing! this simple seeming unity—the + self! Who can trace its reintegration as morning after morning we awaken, + the flux and confluence of its countless factors interweaving, rebuilding, + the dim first stirrings of the soul, the growth and synthesis of the + unconscious to the subconscious, the subconscious to dawning + consciousness, until at last we recognise ourselves again. And as it + happens to most of us after the night’s sleep, so it was with Graham + at the end of his vast slumber. A dim cloud of sensation taking shape, a + cloudy dreariness, and he found himself vaguely somewhere, recumbent, + faint, but alive. + </p> + <p> + The pilgrimage towards a personal being seemed to traverse vast gulfs, to + occupy epochs. Gigantic dreams that were terrible realities at the time, + left vague perplexing memories, strange creatures, strange scenery, as if + from another planet. There was a distinct impression, too, of a momentous + conversation, of a name—he could not tell what name—that was + subsequently to recur, of some queer long-forgotten sensation of vein and + muscle, of a feeling of vast hopeless effort, the effort of a man near + drowning in darkness. Then came a panorama of dazzling unstable confluent + scenes.... + </p> + <p> + Graham became aware that his eyes were open and regarding some unfamiliar + thing. + </p> + <p> + It was something white, the edge of something, a frame of wood. He moved + his head slightly, following the contour of this shape. It went up beyond + the top of his eyes. He tried to think where he might be. Did it matter, + seeing he was so wretched? The colour of his thoughts was a dark + depression. He felt the featureless misery of one who wakes towards the + hour of dawn. He had an uncertain sense of whispers and footsteps hastily + receding. + </p> + <p> + The movement of his head involved a perception of extreme physical + weakness. He supposed he was in bed in the hotel at the place in the + valley—but he could not recall that white edge. He must have slept. + He remembered now that he had wanted to sleep. He recalled the cliff and + Waterfall again, and then recollected something about talking to a + passer-by.... + </p> + <p> + How long had he slept? What was that sound of pattering feet? And that + rise and fall, like the murmur of breakers on pebbles? He put out a + languid hand to reach his watch from the chair whereon it was his habit to + place it, and touched some smooth hard surface like glass. This was so + unexpected that it startled him extremely. Quite suddenly he rolled over, + stared for a moment, and struggled into a sitting position. The effort was + unexpectedly difficult, and it left him giddy and weak—and amazed. + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his eyes. The riddle of his surroundings was confusing but his + mind was quite clear—evidently his sleep had benefited him. He was + not in a bed at all as he understood the word, but lying naked on a very + soft and yielding mattress, in a trough of dark glass. The mattress was + partly transparent, a fact he observed with a sense of insecurity, and + below it was a mirror reflecting him greyly. About his arm—and he + saw with a shock that his skin was strangely dry and yellow—was + bound a curious apparatus of rubber, bound so cunningly that it seemed to + pass into his skin above and below. And this bed was placed in a case of + greenish coloured glass (as it seemed to him), a bar in the white + framework of which had first arrested his attention. In the corner of the + case was a stand of glittering and delicately made apparatus, for the most + part quite strange appliances, though a maximum and minimum thermometer + was recognisable. + </p> + <p> + The slightly greenish tint of the glass-like substance which surrounded + him on every hand obscured what lay behind, but he perceived it was a vast + apartment of splendid appearance, and with a very large and simple white + archway facing him. Close to the walls of the cage were articles of + furniture, a table covered with a silvery cloth, silvery like the side of + a fish, a couple of graceful chairs, and on the table a number of dishes + with substances piled on them, a bottle and two glasses. He realised that + he was intensely hungry. + </p> + <p> + He could see no one, and after a period of hesitation scrambled off the + translucent mattress and tried to stand on the clean white floor of his + little apartment. He had miscalculated his strength, however, and + staggered and put his hand against the glass like pane before him to + steady himself. For a moment it resisted his hand, bending outward like a + distended bladder, then it broke with a slight report and vanished—a + pricked bubble. He reeled out into the general space of the hall, greatly + astonished. He caught at the table to save himself, knocking one of the + glasses to the floor—it rang but did not break—and sat down in + one of the armchairs. + </p> + <p> + When he had a little recovered he filled the remaining glass from the + bottle and drank—a colourless liquid it was, but not water, with a + pleasing faint aroma and taste and a quality of immediate support and + stimulus. He put down the vessel and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + The apartment lost none of its size and magnificence now that the greenish + transparency that had intervened was removed. The archway he saw led to a + flight of steps, going downward without the intermediation of a door, to a + spacious transverse passage. This passage ran between polished pillars of + some white-veined substance of deep ultramarine, and along it came the + sound of human movements, and voices and a deep undeviating droning note. + He sat, now fully awake, listening alertly, forgetting the viands in his + attention. + </p> + <p> + Then with a shock he remembered that he was naked, and casting about him + for covering, saw a long black robe thrown on one of the chairs beside + him. This he wrapped about him and sat down again, trembling. + </p> + <p> + His mind was still a surging perplexity. Clearly he had slept, and had + been removed in his sleep. But where? And who were those people, the + distant crowd beyond the deep blue pillars? Boscastle? He poured out and + partially drank another glass of the colourless fluid. + </p> + <p> + What was this place?—this place that to his senses seemed subtly + quivering like a thing alive? He looked about him at the clean and + beautiful form of the apartment, unstained by ornament, and saw that the + roof was broken in one place by a circular shaft full of light, and, as he + looked, a steady, sweeping shadow blotted it out and passed, and came + again and passed. “Beat, beat,” that sweeping shadow had a + note of its own in the subdued tumult that filled the air. + </p> + <p> + He would have called out, but only a little sound came into his throat. + Then he stood up, and, with the uncertain steps of a drunkard, made his + way towards the archway. He staggered down the steps, tripped on the + corner of the black cloak he had wrapped about himself, and saved himself + by catching at one of the blue pillars. + </p> + <p> + The passage ran down a cool vista of blue and purple and ended remotely in + a railed space like a balcony brightly lit and projecting into a space of + haze, a space like the interior of some gigantic building. Beyond and + remote were vast and vague architectural forms. The tumult of voices rose + now loud and clear, and on the balcony and with their backs to him, + gesticulating and apparently in animated conversation, were three figures, + richly dressed in loose and easy garments of bright soft colourings. The + noise of a great multitude of people poured up over the balcony, and once + it seemed the top of a banner passed, and once some brightly coloured + object, a pale blue cap or garment thrown up into the air perhaps, flashed + athwart the space and fell. The shouts sounded like English, there was a + reiteration of “Wake!” He heard some indistinct shrill cry, + and abruptly these three men began laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed one—a red-haired man in a short + purple robe. “When the Sleeper wakes—<i>When</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He turned his eyes full of merriment along the passage. His face changed, + the whole man changed, became rigid. The other two turned swiftly at his + exclamation and stood motionless. Their faces assumed an expression of + consternation, an expression that deepened into awe. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Graham’s knees bent beneath him, his arm against the pillar + collapsed limply, he staggered forward and fell upon his face. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE SOUND OF A TUMULT + </h2> + <p> + Graham’s last impression before he fainted was of the ringing of + bells. He learnt afterwards that he was insensible, hanging between life + and death, for the better part of an hour. When he recovered his senses, + he was back on his translucent couch, and there was a stirring warmth at + heart and throat. The dark apparatus, he perceived, had been removed from + his arm, which was bandaged. The white framework was still about him, but + the greenish transparent substance that had filled it was altogether gone. + A man in a deep violet robe, one of those who had been on the balcony, was + looking keenly into his face. + </p> + <p> + Remote but insistent was a clamour of bells and confused sounds, that + suggested to his mind the picture of a great number of people shouting + together. Something seemed to fall across this tumult, a door suddenly + closed. + </p> + <p> + Graham moved his head. “What does this all mean?” he said + slowly. “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + He saw the red-haired man who had been first to discover him. A voice + seemed to be asking what he had said, and was abruptly stilled. + </p> + <p> + The man in violet answered in a soft voice, speaking English with a + slightly foreign accent, or so at least it seemed to the Sleeper’s + ears. “You are quite safe. You were brought hither from where you + fell asleep. It is quite safe. You have been here some time—sleeping. + In a trance.” + </p> + <p> + He said, something further that Graham could not hear, and a little phial + was handed across to him. Graham felt a cooling spray, a fragrant mist + played over his forehead for a moment, and his sense of refreshment + increased. He closed his eyes in satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Better?” asked the man in violet, as Graham’s eyes + reopened. He was a pleasant-faced man of thirty, perhaps, with a pointed + flaxen beard, and a clasp of gold at the neck of his violet robe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “You have been asleep some time. In a cataleptic trance. You have + heard? Catalepsy? It may seem strange to you at first, but I can assure + you everything is well.” + </p> + <p> + Graham did not answer, but these words served their reassuring purpose. + His eyes went from face to face of the three people about him. They were + regarding him strangely. He knew he ought to be somewhere in Cornwall, but + he could not square these things with that impression. + </p> + <p> + A matter that had been in his mind during his last waking moments at + Boscastle recurred, a thing resolved upon and somehow neglected. He + cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Have you wired my cousin?” he asked. “E. Warming, 27, + Chancery Lane?” + </p> + <p> + They were all assiduous to hear. But he had to repeat it. “What an + odd <i>blurr</i> in his accent!” whispered the red-haired man. + “Wire, sir?” said the young man with the flaxen beard, + evidently puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “He means send an electric telegram,” volunteered the third, a + pleasant-faced youth of nineteen or twenty. The flaxen-bearded man gave a + cry of comprehension. “How stupid of me! You may be sure everything + shall be done, sir,” he said to Graham. “I am afraid it would + be difficult to—<i>wire</i> to your cousin. He is not in London now. + But don’t trouble about arrangements yet; you have been asleep a + very long time and the important thing is to get over that, sir.” + (Graham concluded the word was sir, but this man pronounced it “<i>Sire</i>.”) + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Graham, and became quiet. + </p> + <p> + It was all very puzzling, but apparently these people in unfamiliar dress + knew what they were about. Yet they were odd and the room was odd. It + seemed he was in some newly established place. He had a sudden flash of + suspicion! Surely this wasn’t some hall of public exhibition! If it + was he would give Warming a piece of his mind. But it scarcely had that + character. And in a place of public exhibition he would not have + discovered himself naked. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly, quite abruptly, he realised what had happened. There was no + perceptible interval of suspicion, no dawn to his knowledge. Abruptly he + knew that his trance had lasted for a vast interval; as if by some + processes of thought-reading he interpreted the awe in the faces that + peered into his. He looked at them strangely, full of intense emotion. It + seemed they read his eyes. He framed his lips to speak and could not. A + queer impulse to hide his knowledge came into his mind almost at the + moment of his discovery. He looked at his bare feet, regarding them + silently. His impulse to speak passed. He was trembling exceedingly. + </p> + <p> + They gave him some pink fluid with a greenish fluorescence and a meaty + taste, and the assurance of returning strength grew. + </p> + <p> + “That—that makes me feel better,” he said hoarsely, and + there were murmurs of respectful approval. He knew now quite clearly. He + made to speak again, and again he could not. + </p> + <p> + He pressed his throat and tried a third time. “How long?” he + asked in a level voice. “How long have I been asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Some considerable time,” said the flaxen-bearded man, + glancing quickly at the others. + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + “A very long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes,” said Graham, suddenly testy. “But I + want—Is it—it is—some years? Many years? There was + something—I forget what. I feel—confused. But you—” + He sobbed. “You need not fence with me. How long—?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, breathing irregularly. He squeezed his eyes with his knuckles + and sat waiting for an answer. + </p> + <p> + They spoke in undertones. + </p> + <p> + “Five or six?” he asked faintly. “More?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much more than that.” + </p> + <p> + “More!” + </p> + <p> + “More.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at them and it seemed as though imps were twitching the muscles + of his face. He looked his question. + </p> + <p> + “Many years,” said the man with the red beard. + </p> + <p> + Graham struggled into a sitting position. He wiped a rheumy tear from his + face with a lean hand. “Many years!” he repeated. He shut his + eyes tight, opened them, and sat looking about him from one unfamiliar + thing to another. + </p> + <p> + “How many years?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You must be prepared to be surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “More than a gross of years.” + </p> + <p> + He was irritated at the strange word. “More than a <i>what</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Two of them spoke together. Some quick remarks that were made about + “decimal” he did not catch. + </p> + <p> + “How long did you say?” asked Graham. “How long? Don’t + look like that. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Among the remarks in an undertone, his ear caught six words: “More + than a couple of centuries.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>What</i>?” he cried, turning on the youth who he thought + had spoken. “Who says—? What was that? A couple of <i>centuries</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the man with the red beard. “Two hundred + years.” + </p> + <p> + Graham repeated the words. He had been prepared to hear of a vast repose, + and yet these concrete centuries defeated him. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred years,” he said again, with the figure of a great + gulf opening very slowly in his mind; and then, “Oh, but—!” + </p> + <p> + They said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You—did you say—?” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred years. Two centuries of years,” said the man with + the red beard. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Graham looked at their faces and saw that what he had + heard was indeed true. + </p> + <p> + “But it can’t be,” he said querulously. “I am + dreaming. Trances—trances don’t last. That is not right—this + is a joke you have played upon me! Tell me—some days ago, perhaps, I + was walking along the coast of Cornwall—?” + </p> + <p> + His voice failed him. + </p> + <p> + The man with the flaxen beard hesitated. “I’m not very strong + in history, sir,” he said weakly, and glanced at the others. + </p> + <p> + “That was it, sir,” said the youngster. “Boscastle, in + the old Duchy of Cornwall—it’s in the south-west country + beyond the dairy meadows. There is a house there still. I have been there.” + </p> + <p> + “Boscastle!” Graham turned his eyes to the youngster. “That + was it—Boscastle. Little Boscastle. I fell asleep—somewhere + there. I don’t exactly remember. I don’t exactly remember.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his brows and whispered, “More than <i>two hundred years</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He began to speak quickly with a twitching face, but his heart was cold + within him. “But if it <i>is</i> two hundred years, every soul I + know, every human being that ever I saw or spoke to before I went to + sleep, must be dead.” + </p> + <p> + They did not answer him. + </p> + <p> + “The Queen and the Royal Family, her Ministers, Church and State. + High and low, rich and poor, one with another ... Is there England still?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a comfort! Is there London?” + </p> + <p> + “This <i>is</i> London, eh? And you are my assistant-custodian; + assistant-custodian. And these—? Eh? Assistant-custodians too!” + </p> + <p> + He sat with a gaunt stare on his face. “But why am I here? No! Don’t + talk. Be quiet. Let me—” + </p> + <p> + He sat silent, rubbed his eyes, and, uncovering them, found another little + glass of pinkish fluid held towards him. He took the dose. Directly he had + taken it he began to weep naturally and refreshingly. + </p> + <p> + Presently he looked at their faces, suddenly laughed through his tears, a + little foolishly. “But—two—hun—dred—years!” + he said. He grimaced hysterically and covered his face again. + </p> + <p> + After a space he grew calm. He sat up, his hands hanging over his knees in + almost precisely the same attitude in which Isbister had found him on the + cliff at Pentargen. His attention was attracted by a thick domineering + voice, the footsteps of an advancing personage. “What are you doing? + Why was I not warned? Surely you could tell? Someone will suffer for this. + The man must be kept quiet. Are the doorways closed? All the doorways? He + must be kept perfectly quiet. He must not be told. Has he been told + anything?” + </p> + <p> + The man with the fair beard made some inaudible remark, and Graham looking + over his shoulder saw approaching a short, fat, and thickset beardless + man, with aquiline nose and heavy neck and chin. Very thick black and + slightly sloping eyebrows that almost met over his nose and overhung deep + grey eyes, gave his face an oddly formidable expression. He scowled + momentarily at Graham and then his regard returned to the man with the + flaxen beard. “These others,” he said in a voice of extreme + irritation. “You had better go.” + </p> + <p> + “Go?” said the red-bearded man. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—go now. But see the doorways are closed as you go.” + </p> + <p> + The two men addressed turned obediently, after one reluctant glance at + Graham, and instead of going through the archway as he expected, walked + straight to the dead wall of the apartment opposite the archway. A long + strip of this apparently solid wall rolled up with a snap, hung over the + two retreating men and fell again, and immediately Graham was alone with + the newcomer and the purple-robed man with the flaxen beard. + </p> + <p> + For a space the thickset man took not the slightest notice of Graham, but + proceeded to interrogate the other—obviously his subordinate—-upon + the treatment of their charge. He spoke clearly, but in phrases only + partially intelligible to Graham. The awakening seemed not only a matter + of surprise but of consternation and annoyance to him. He was evidently + profoundly excited. + </p> + <p> + “You must not confuse his mind by telling him things,” he + repeated again and again. “You must not confuse his mind.” + </p> + <p> + His questions answered, he turned quickly and eyed the awakened sleeper + with an ambiguous expression. + </p> + <p> + “Feel queer?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very.” + </p> + <p> + “The world, what you see of it, seems strange to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I have to live in it, strange as it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, now.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, hadn’t I better have some clothes?” + </p> + <p> + “They—” said the thickset man and stopped, and the + flaxen-bearded man met his eye and went away. “You will very + speedily have clothes,” said the thickset man. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true indeed, that I have been asleep two hundred—?” + asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “They have told you that, have they? Two hundred and three, as a + matter of fact.” + </p> + <p> + Graham accepted the indisputable now with raised eyebrows and depressed + mouth. He sat silent for a moment, and then asked a question, “Is + there a mill or dynamo near here?” He did not wait for an answer. + “Things have changed tremendously, I suppose?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What is that shouting?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said the thickset man impatiently. “It’s + people. You’ll understand better later—perhaps. As you say, + things have changed.” He spoke shortly, his brows were knit, and he + glanced about him like a man trying to decide in an emergency. “We + must get you clothes and so forth, at any rate. Better wait here until + they can be procured. No one will come near you. You want shaving.” + </p> + <p> + Graham rubbed his chin. + </p> + <p> + The man with the flaxen beard came back towards them, turned suddenly, + listened for a moment, lifted his eyebrows at the older man, and hurried + off through the archway towards the balcony. The tumult of shouting grew + louder, and the thickset man turned and listened also. He cursed suddenly + under his breath, and turned his eyes upon Graham with an unfriendly + expression. It was a surge of many voices, rising and falling, shouting + and screaming, and once came a sound like blows and sharp cries, and then + a snapping like the crackling of dry sticks. Graham strained his ears to + draw some single thread of sound from the woven tumult. + </p> + <p> + Then he perceived, repeated again and again, a certain formula. For a time + he doubted his ears. But surely these were the words: “Show us the + Sleeper! Show us the Sleeper!” + </p> + <p> + The thickset man rushed suddenly to the archway. + </p> + <p> + “Wild!” he cried. “How do they know? Do they know? Or is + it guessing?” + </p> + <p> + There was perhaps an answer. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t come,” said the thickset man; “I have <i>him</i> + to see to. But shout from the balcony.” + </p> + <p> + There was an inaudible reply. + </p> + <p> + “Say he is not awake. Anything! I leave it to you.” + </p> + <p> + He came hurrying back to Graham. “You must have clothes at once,” + he said. “You cannot stop here—and it will be impossible to—” + </p> + <p> + He rushed away, Graham shouting unanswered questions after him. In a + moment he was back. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you what is happening. It is too complex to + explain. In a moment you shall have your clothes made. Yes—in a + moment. And then I can take you away from here. You will find out our + troubles soon enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But those voices. They were shouting—?” + </p> + <p> + “Something about the Sleeper—that’s you. They have some + twisted idea. I don’t know what it is. I know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + A shrill bell jetted acutely across the indistinct mingling of remote + noises, and this brusque person sprang to a little group of appliances in + the corner of the room. He listened for a moment, regarding a ball of + crystal, nodded, and said a few indistinct words; then he walked to the + wall through which the two men had vanished. It rolled up again like a + curtain, and he stood waiting. + </p> + <p> + Graham lifted his arm and was astonished to find what strength the + restoratives had given him. He thrust one leg over the side of the couch + and then the other. His head no longer swam. He could scarcely credit his + rapid recovery. He sat feeling his limbs. + </p> + <p> + The man with the flaxen beard re-entered from the archway, and as he did + so the cage of a lift came sliding down in front of the thickset man, and + a lean, grey-bearded man, carrying a roll, and wearing a tightly-fitting + costume of dark green, appeared therein. + </p> + <p> + “This is the tailor,” said the thickset man with an + introductory gesture. “It will never do for you to wear that black. + I cannot understand how it got here. But I shall. I shall. You will be as + rapid as possible?” he said to the tailor. + </p> + <p> + The man in green bowed, and, advancing, seated himself by Graham on the + bed. His manner was calm, but his eyes were full of curiosity. “You + will find the fashions altered, Sire,” he said. He glanced from + under his brows at the thickset man. + </p> + <p> + He opened the roller with a quick movement, and a confusion of brilliant + fabrics poured out over his knees. “You lived, Sire, in a period + essentially cylindrical—the Victorian. With a tendency to the + hemisphere in hats. Circular curves always. Now—” He flicked + out a little appliance the size and appearance of a keyless watch, whirled + the knob, and behold—a little figure in white appeared kinetoscope + fashion on the dial, walking and turning. The tailor caught up a pattern + of bluish white satin. “That is my conception of your immediate + treatment,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The thickset man came and stood by the shoulder of Graham. + </p> + <p> + “We have very little time,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Trust me,” said the tailor. “My machine follows. What + do you think of this?” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked the man from the nineteenth century. + </p> + <p> + “In your days they showed you a fashion-plate,” said the + tailor, “but this is our modern development. See here.” The + little figure repeated its evolutions, but in a different costume. “Or + this,” and with a click another small figure in a more voluminous + type of robe marched on to the dial. The tailor was very quick in his + movements, and glanced twice towards the lift as he did these things. + </p> + <p> + It rumbled again, and a crop-haired anemic lad with features of the + Chinese type, clad in coarse pale blue canvas, appeared together with a + complicated machine, which he pushed noiselessly on little castors into + the room. Incontinently the little kinetoscope was dropped, Graham was + invited to stand in front of the machine and the tailor muttered some + instructions to the crop-haired lad, who answered in guttural tones and + with words Graham did not recognise. The boy then went to conduct an + incomprehensible monologue in the corner, and the tailor pulled out a + number of slotted arms terminating in little discs, pulling them out until + the discs were flat against the body of Graham, one at each shoulder + blade, one at the elbows, one at the neck and so forth, so that at last + there were, perhaps, two score of them upon his body and limbs. At the + same time, some other person entered the room by the lift, behind Graham. + The tailor set moving a mechanism that initiated a faint-sounding rhythmic + movement of parts in the machine, and in another moment he was knocking up + the levers and Graham was released. The tailor replaced his cloak of + black, and the man with the flaxen beard proffered him a little glass of + some refreshing fluid. Graham saw over the rim of the glass a pale-faced + young man regarding him with a singular fixity. + </p> + <p> + The thickset man had been pacing the room fretfully, and now turned and + went through the archway towards the balcony, from which the noise of a + distant crowd still came in gusts and cadences. The crop-headed lad handed + the tailor a roll of the bluish satin and the two began fixing this in the + mechanism in a manner reminiscent of a roll of paper in a nineteenth + century printing machine. Then they ran the entire thing on its easy, + noiseless bearings across the room to a remote corner where a twisted + cable looped rather gracefully from the wall. They made some connexion and + the machine became energetic and swift. + </p> + <p> + “What is that doing?” asked Graham, pointing with the empty + glass to the busy figures and trying to ignore the scrutiny of the new + comer. “Is that—some sort of force—laid on?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the man with the flaxen beard. + </p> + <p> + “Who is <i>that</i>?” He indicated the archway behind him. + </p> + <p> + The man in purple stroked his little beard, hesitated, and answered in an + undertone, “He is Howard, your chief guardian. You see, Sire—it’s + a little difficult to explain. The Council appoints a guardian and + assistants. This hall has under certain restrictions been public. In order + that people might satisfy themselves. We have barred the doorways for the + first time. But I think—if you don’t mind, I will leave him to + explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Odd!” said Graham. “Guardian? Council?” Then + turning his back on the new comer, he asked in an undertone, “Why is + this man <i>glaring</i> at me? Is he a mesmerist?” + </p> + <p> + “Mesmerist! He is a capillotomist.” + </p> + <p> + “Capillotomist!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—one of the chief. His yearly fee is sixdoz lions.” + </p> + <p> + It sounded sheer nonsense. Graham snatched at the last phrase with an + unsteady mind. “Sixdoz lions?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you have lions? I suppose not. You had the old pounds? + They are our monetary units.” + </p> + <p> + “But what was that you said—sixdoz?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Six dozen, Sire. Of course things, even these little things, + have altered. You lived in the days of the decimal system, the Arab system—tens, + and little hundreds and thousands. We have eleven numerals now. We have + single figures for both ten and eleven, two figures for a dozen, and a + dozen dozen makes a gross, a great hundred, you know, a dozen gross a + dozand, and a dozand dozand a myriad. Very simple?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” said Graham. “But about this cap—what + was it?” + </p> + <p> + The man with the flaxen beard glanced over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Here are your clothes!” he said. Graham turned round sharply + and saw the tailor standing at his elbow smiling, and holding some + palpably new garments over his arm. The crop-headed boy, by means of one + ringer, was impelling the complicated machine towards the lift by which he + had arrived. Graham stared at the completed suit. “You don’t + mean to say—!” + </p> + <p> + “Just made,” said the tailor. He dropped the garments at the + feet of Graham, walked to the bed, on which Graham had so recently been + lying, flung out the translucent mattress, and turned up the + looking-glass. As he did so a furious bell summoned the thickset man to + the corner. The man with the flaxen beard rushed across to him and then + hurried out by the archway. + </p> + <p> + The tailor was assisting Graham into a dark purple combination garment, + stockings, vest, and pants in one, as the thickset man came back from the + corner to meet the man with the flaxen beard returning from the balcony. + They began speaking quickly in an undertone, their bearing had an + unmistakable quality of anxiety. Over the purple under-garment came a + complex garment of bluish white, and Graham, was clothed in the fashion + once more and saw himself, sallow-faced, unshaven and shaggy still, but at + least naked no longer, and in some indefinable unprecedented way graceful. + </p> + <p> + “I must shave,” he said regarding himself in the glass. + </p> + <p> + “In a moment,” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + The persistent stare ceased. The young man closed his eyes, reopened them, + and with a lean hand extended, advanced on Graham. Then he stopped, with + his hand slowly gesticulating, and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + “A seat,” said Howard impatiently, and in a moment the + flaxen-bearded man had a chair behind Graham. “Sit down, please,” + said Howard. + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated, and in the other hand of the wild-eyed man he saw the + glint of steel. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you understand, Sire?” cried the flaxen-bearded + man with hurried politeness. “He is going to cut your hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Graham enlightened. “But you called him—” + </p> + <p> + “A capillotomist—precisely! He is one of the finest artists in + the world.” + </p> + <p> + Graham sat down abruptly. The flaxen-bearded man disappeared. The + capillotomist came forward, examined Graham’s ears and surveyed him, + felt the back of his head, and would have sat down again to regard him but + for Howard’s audible impatience. Forthwith with rapid movements and + a succession of deftly handled implements he shaved Graham’s chin, + clipped his moustache, and cut and arranged his hair. All this he did + without a word, with something of the rapt air of a poet inspired. And as + soon as he had finished Graham was handed a pair of shoes. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a loud voice shouted—it seemed from a piece of machinery in + the corner—“At once—at once. The people know all over + the city. Work is being stopped. Work is being stopped. Wait for nothing, + but come.” + </p> + <p> + This shout appeared to perturb Howard exceedingly. By his gestures it + seemed to Graham that he hesitated between two directions. Abruptly he + went towards the corner where the apparatus stood about the little crystal + ball. As he did so the undertone of tumultuous shouting from the archway + that had continued during all these occurrences rose to a mighty sound, + roared as if it were sweeping past, and fell again as if receding swiftly. + It drew Graham after it with an irresistible attraction. He glanced at the + thickset man, and then obeyed his impulse. In two strides he was down the + steps and in the passage, and in a score he was out upon the balcony upon + which the three men had been standing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — THE MOVING WAYS + </h2> + <p> + He went to the railings of the balcony and stared upward. An exclamation + of surprise at his appearance, and the movements of a number of people + came from the great area below. + </p> + <p> + His first impression was of overwhelming architecture. The place into + which he looked was an aisle of Titanic buildings, curving spaciously in + either direction. Overhead mighty cantilevers sprang together across the + huge width of the place, and a tracery of translucent material shut out + the sky. Gigantic globes of cool white light shamed the pale sunbeams that + filtered down through the girders and wires. Here and there a gossamer + suspension bridge dotted with foot passengers flung across the chasm and + the air was webbed with slender cables. A cliff of edifice hung above him, + he perceived as he glanced upward, and the opposite fagade was grey and + dim and broken by great archings, circular perforations, balconies, + buttresses, turret projections, myriads of vast windows, and an intricate + scheme of architectural relief. Athwart these ran inscriptions + horizontally and obliquely in an unfamiliar lettering. Here and there + close to the roof cables of a peculiar stoutness were fastened, and + drooped in a steep curve to circular openings on the opposite side of the + space, and even as Graham noted these a remote and tiny figure of a man + clad in pale blue arrested his attention. This little figure was far + overhead across the space beside the higher fastening of one of these + festoons, hanging forward from a little ledge of masonry and handling some + well-nigh invisible strings dependent from the line. Then suddenly, with a + swoop that sent Graham’s heart into his mouth, this man had rushed + down the curve and vanished through a round opening on the hither side of + the way. Graham had been looking up as he came out upon the balcony, and + the things he saw above and opposed to him had at first seized his + attention to the exclusion of anything else. Then suddenly he discovered + the roadway! It was not a roadway at all, as Graham understood such + things, for in the nineteenth century the only roads and streets were + beaten tracks of motionless earth, jostling rivulets of vehicles between + narrow footways. But this roadway was three hundred feet across, and it + moved; it moved, all save the middle, the lowest part. For a moment, the + motion dazzled his mind. Then he understood. Under the balcony this + extraordinary roadway ran swiftly to Graham’s right, an endless flow + rushing along as fast as a nineteenth century express train, an endless + platform of narrow transverse overlapping slats with little interspaces + that permitted it to follow the curvatures of the street. Upon it were + seats, and here and there little kiosks, but they swept by too swiftly for + him to see what might be therein. From this nearest and swiftest platform + a series of others descended to the centre of the space. Each moved to the + right, each perceptibly slower than the one above it, but the difference + in pace was small enough to permit anyone to step from any platform to the + one adjacent, and so walk uninterruptedly from the swiftest to the + motionless middle way. Beyond this middle way was another series of + endless platforms rushing with varying pace to Graham’s left. And + seated in crowds upon the two widest and swiftest platforms, or stepping + from one to another down the steps, or swarming over the central space, + was an innumerable and wonderfully diversified multitude of people. + </p> + <p> + “You must not stop here,” shouted Howard suddenly at his side. + “You must come away at once.” + </p> + <p> + Graham made no answer. He heard without hearing. The platforms ran with a + roar and the people were shouting. He perceived women and girls with + flowing hair, beautifully robed, with bands crossing between the breasts. + These first came out of the confusion. Then he perceived that the dominant + note in that kaleidoscope of costume was the pale blue that the tailor’s + boy had worn. He became aware of cries of “The Sleeper. What has + happened to the Sleeper?” and it seemed as though the rushing + platforms before him were suddenly spattered with the pale buff of human + faces, and then still more thickly. He saw pointing fingers. He perceived + that the motionless central area of this huge arcade just opposite to the + balcony was densely crowded with blue-clad people. Some sort of struggle + had sprung into life. People seemed to be pushed up the running platforms + on either side, and carried away against their will. They would spring off + so soon as they were beyond the thick of the confusion, and run back + towards the conflict. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Sleeper. Verily it is the Sleeper,” shouted voices. + “That is never the Sleeper,” shouted others. More and more + faces were turned to him. At the intervals along this central area Graham + noted openings, pits, apparently the heads of staircases going down with + people ascending out of them and descending into them. The struggle it + seemed centred about the one of these nearest to him. People were running + down the moving platforms to this, leaping dexterously from platform to + platform. The clustering people on the higher platforms seemed to divide + their interest between this point and the balcony. A number of sturdy + little figures clad in a uniform of bright red, and working methodically + together, were employed it seemed in preventing access to this descending + staircase. About them a crowd was rapidly accumulating. Their brilliant + colour contrasted vividly with the whitish-blue of their antagonists, for + the struggle was indisputable. + </p> + <p> + He saw these things with Howard shouting in his ear and shaking his arm. + And then suddenly Howard was gone and he stood alone. + </p> + <p> + He perceived that the cries of “The Sleeper!” grew in volume, + and that the people on the nearer platform were standing up. The nearer + platform he perceived was empty to the right of him, and far across the + space the platform running in the opposite direction was coming crowded + and passing away bare. With incredible swiftness a vast crowd had gathered + in the central space before his eyes; a dense swaying mass of people, and + the shouts grew from a fitful crying to a voluminous incessant clamour: + “The Sleeper! The Sleeper!” and yells and cheers, a waving of + garments and cries of “Stop the Ways!” They were also crying + another name strange to Graham. It sounded like “Ostrog.” The + slower platforms were soon thick with active people, running against the + movement so as to keep themselves opposite to him. + </p> + <p> + “Stop the Ways,” they cried. Agile figures ran up from the + centre to the swift road nearest to him, were borne rapidly past him, + shouting strange, unintelligible things, and ran back obliquely to the + central way. One thing he distinguished: “It is indeed the Sleeper. + It is indeed the Sleeper,” they testified. + </p> + <p> + For a space Graham stood motionless. Then he became vividly aware that all + this concerned him. He was pleased at his wonderful popularity, he bowed, + and, seeking a gesture of longer range, waved his arm. He was astonished + at the violence of uproar that this provoked. The tumult about the + descending stairway rose to furious violence. He became aware of crowded + balconies, of men sliding along ropes, of men in trapeze-like seats + hurling athwart the space. He heard voices behind him, a number of people + descending the steps through the archway; he suddenly perceived that his + guardian Howard was back again and gripping his arm painfully, and + shouting inaudibly in his ear. + </p> + <p> + He turned, and Howard’s face was white. “Come back,” he + heard. “They will stop the ways. The whole city will be in + confusion.” + </p> + <p> + He perceived a number of men hurrying along the passage of blue pillars + behind Howard, the red-haired man, the man with the flaxen beard, a tall + man in vivid vermilion, a crowd of others in red carrying staves, and all + these people had anxious eager faces. + </p> + <p> + “Get him away,” cried Howard. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” said Graham. “I don’t see—” + </p> + <p> + “You must come away!” said the man in red in a resolute voice. + His face and eyes were resolute, too. Graham’s glances went from + face to face, and he was suddenly aware of that most disagreeable flavour + in life, compulsion. Someone gripped his arm.... + </p> + <p> + He was being dragged away. It seemed as though the tumult suddenly became + two, as if half the shouts that had come in from this wonderful roadway + had sprung into the passages of the great building behind him. Marvelling + and confused, feeling an impotent desire to resist, Graham was half led, + half thrust, along the passage of blue pillars, and suddenly he found + himself alone with Howard in a lift and moving swiftly upward. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — THE HALL OF THE ATLAS + </h2> + <p> + From the moment when the tailor had bowed his farewell to the moment when + Graham found himself in the lift, was altogether barely five minutes. As + yet the haze of his vast interval of sleep hung about him, as yet the + initial strangeness of his being alive at all in this remote age touched + everything with wonder, with a sense of the irrational, with something of + the quality of a realistic dream. He was still detached, an astonished + spectator, still but half involved in life. What he had seen, and + especially the last crowded tumult, framed in the setting of the balcony, + had a spectacular turn, like a thing witnessed from the box of a theatre. + “I don’t understand,” he said. “What was the + trouble? My mind is in a whirl. Why were they shouting? What is the + danger?” + </p> + <p> + “We have our troubles,” said Howard. His eyes avoided Graham’s + enquiry. “This is a time of unrest. And, in fact, your appearance, + your waking just now, has a sort of connexion—” + </p> + <p> + He spoke jerkily, like a man not quite sure of his breathing. He stopped + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “It will be clearer later,” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + He glanced uneasily upward, as though he found the progress of the lift + slow. + </p> + <p> + “I shall understand better, no doubt, when I have seen my way about + a little,” said Graham puzzled. “It will be—it is bound + to be perplexing. At present it is all so strange. Anything seems + possible. Anything. In the details even. Your counting, I understand, is + different.” + </p> + <p> + The lift stopped, and they stepped out into a narrow but very long passage + between high walls, along which ran an extraordinary number of tubes and + big cables. + </p> + <p> + “What a huge place this is!” said Graham. “Is it all one + building? What place is it?” + </p> + <p> + “This is one of the city ways for various public services. Light and + so forth.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it a social trouble—that—in the great roadway + place? How are you governed? Have you still a police?” + </p> + <p> + “Several,” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + “Several?” + </p> + <p> + “About fourteen.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Very probably not. Our social order will probably seem very complex + to you. To tell you the truth, I don’t understand it myself very + clearly. Nobody does. You will, perhaps—bye and bye. We have to go + to the Council.” + </p> + <p> + Graham’s attention was divided between the urgent necessity of his + inquiries and the people in the passages and halls they were traversing. + For a moment his mind would be concentrated upon Howard and the halting + answers he made, and then he would lose the thread in response to some + vivid unexpected impression. Along the passages, in the halls, half the + people seemed to be men in the red uniform. The pale blue canvas that had + been so abundant in the aisle of moving ways did not appear. Invariably + these men looked at him, and saluted him and Howard as they passed. + </p> + <p> + He had a clear vision of entering a long corridor, and there were a number + of girls sitting on low seats, as though in a class. He saw no teacher, + but only a novel apparatus from which he fancied a voice proceeded. The + girls regarded him and his conductor, he thought, with curiosity and + astonishment. But he was hurried on before he could form a clear idea of + the gathering. He judged they knew Howard and not himself, and that they + wondered who he was. This Howard, it seemed, was a person of importance. + But then he was also merely Graham’s guardian. That was odd. + </p> + <p> + There came a passage in twilight, and into this passage a footway hung so + that he could see the feet and ankles of people going to and fro thereon, + but no more of them. Then vague impressions of galleries and of casual + astonished passers-by turning round to stare after the two of them with + their red-clad guard. + </p> + <p> + The stimulus of the restoratives he had taken was only temporary. He was + speedily fatigued by this excessive haste. He asked Howard to slacken his + speed. Presently he was in a lift that had a window upon the great street + space, but this was glazed and did not open, and they were too high for + him to see the moving platforms below. But he saw people going to and fro + along cables and along strange, frail-looking bridges. + </p> + <p> + Thence they passed across the street and at a vast height above it. They + crossed by means of a narrow bridge closed in with glass, so clear that it + made him giddy even to remember it. The floor of it also was of glass. + From his memory of the cliffs between New Quay and Boscastle, so remote in + time, and so recent in his experience, it seemed to him that they must be + near four hundred feet above the moving ways. He stopped, looked down + between his legs upon the swarming blue and red multitudes, minute and + foreshortened, struggling and gesticulating still towards the little + balcony far below, a little toy balcony, it seemed, where he had so + recently been standing. A thin haze and the glare of the mighty globes of + light obscured everything. A man seated in a little openwork cradle shot + by from some point still higher than the little narrow bridge, rushing + down a cable as swiftly almost as if he were falling. Graham stopped + involuntarily to watch this strange passenger vanish below, and then his + eyes went back to the tumultuous struggle. + </p> + <p> + Along one of the faster ways rushed a thick crowd of red spots. This broke + up into individuals as it approached the balcony, and went pouring down + the slower ways towards the dense struggling crowd on the central area. + These men in red appeared to be armed with sticks or truncheons; they + seemed to be striking and thrusting. A great shouting, cries of wrath, + screaming, burst out and came up to Graham, faint and thin. “Go on,” + cried Howard, laying hands on him. + </p> + <p> + Another man rushed down a cable. Graham suddenly glanced up to see whence + he came, and beheld through the glassy roof and the network of cables and + girders, dim rhythmically passing forms like the vanes of windmills, and + between them glimpses of a remote and pallid sky. Then Howard had thrust + him forward across the bridge, and he was in a little narrow passage + decorated with geometrical patterns. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see more of that,” cried Graham, resisting. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Howard, still gripping his arm. “This + way. You must go this way.” And the men in red following them seemed + ready to enforce his orders. + </p> + <p> + Some negroes in a curious wasp-like uniform of black and yellow appeared + down the passage, and one hastened to throw up a sliding shutter that had + seemed a door to Graham, and led the way through it. Graham found himself + in a gallery overhanging the end of a great chamber. The attendant in + black and yellow crossed this, thrust up a second shutter and stood + waiting. + </p> + <p> + This place had the appearance of an ante-room. He saw a number of people + in the central space, and at the opposite end a large and imposing doorway + at the top of a flight of steps, heavily curtained but giving a glimpse of + some still larger hall beyond. He perceived white men in red and other + negroes in black and yellow standing stiffly about those portals. + </p> + <p> + As they crossed the gallery he heard a whisper from below, “The + Sleeper,” and was aware of a turning of heads, a hum of observation. + They entered another little passage in the wall of this ante-chamber, and + then he found himself on an iron-railed gallery of metal that passed round + the side of the great hall he had already seen through the curtains. He + entered the place at the corner, so that he received the fullest + impression of its huge proportions. The black in the wasp uniform stood + aside like a well-trained servant, and closed the valve behind him. + </p> + <p> + Compared with any of the places Graham had seen thus far, this second hall + appeared to be decorated with extreme richness. On a pedestal at the + remoter end, and more brilliantly lit than any other object, was a + gigantic white figure of Atlas, strong and strenuous, the globe upon his + bowed shoulders. It was the first thing to strike his attention, it was so + vast, so patiently and painfully real, so white and simple. Save for this + figure and for a dais in the centre, the wide floor of the place was a + shining vacancy. The dais was remote in the greatness of the area; it + would have looked a mere slab of metal had it not been for the group of + seven men who stood about a table on it, and gave an inkling of its + proportions. They were all dressed in white robes, they seemed to have + arisen that moment from their seats, and they were regarding Graham + steadfastly. At the end of the table he perceived the glitter of some + mechanical appliances. + </p> + <p> + Howard led him along the end gallery until they were opposite this mighty + labouring figure. Then he stopped. The two men in red who had followed + them into the gallery came and stood on either hand of Graham. + </p> + <p> + “You must remain here,” murmured Howard, “for a few + moments,” and, without waiting for a reply, hurried away along the + gallery. + </p> + <p> + “But, <i>why</i>—?” began Graham. + </p> + <p> + He moved as if to follow Howard, and found his path obstructed by one of + the men in red. “You have to wait here, Sire,” said the man in + red. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Why</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Orders, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Our orders, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + Graham looked his exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “What place is this?” he said presently. “Who are those + men?” + </p> + <p> + “They are the lords of the Council, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “What Council?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>The</i> Council.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Graham, and after an equally ineffectual attempt at + the other man, went to the railing and stared at the distant men in white, + who stood watching him and whispering together. + </p> + <p> + The Council? He perceived there were now eight, though how the newcomer + had arrived he had not observed. They made no gestures of greeting; they + stood regarding him as in the nineteenth century a group of men might have + stood in the street regarding a distant balloon that had suddenly floated + into view. What council could it be that gathered there, that little body + of men beneath the significant white Atlas, secluded from every + eavesdropper in this impressive spaciousness? And why should he be brought + to them, and be looked at strangely and spoken of inaudibly? Howard + appeared beneath, walking quickly across the polished floor towards them. + As he drew near he bowed and performed certain peculiar movements, + apparently of a ceremonious nature. Then he ascended the steps of the + dais, and stood by the apparatus at the end of the table. + </p> + <p> + Graham watched that visible inaudible conversation. Occasionally, one of + the white-robed men would glance towards him. He strained his ears in + vain. The gesticulation of two of the speakers became animated. He glanced + from them to the passive faces of his attendants.... When he looked again + Howard was extending his hands and moving his head like a man who + protests. He was interrupted, it seemed, by one of the white-robed men + rapping the table. + </p> + <p> + The conversation lasted an interminable time to Graham’s sense. His + eyes rose to the still giant at whose feet the Council sat. Thence they + wandered to the walls of the hall. It was decorated in long painted panels + of a quasi-Japanese type, many of them very beautiful. These panels were + grouped in a great and elaborate framing of dark metal, which passed into + the metallic caryatidae of the galleries, and the great structural lines + of the interior. The facile grace of these panels enhanced the mighty + white effort that laboured in the centre of the scheme. Graham’s + eyes came back to the Council, and Howard was descending the steps. As he + drew nearer his features could be distinguished, and Graham saw that he + was flushed and blowing out his cheeks. His countenance was still + disturbed when presently he reappeared along the gallery. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” he said concisely, and they went on in silence to + a little door that opened at their approach. The two men in red stopped on + either side of this door. Howard and Graham passed in, and Graham, + glancing back, saw the white-robed Council still standing in a close group + and looking at him. Then the door closed behind him with a heavy thud, and + for the first time since his awakening he was in silence. The floor, even, + was noiseless to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Howard opened another door, and they were in the first of two contiguous + chambers furnished in white and green. “What Council was that?” + began Graham. “What were they discussing? What have they to do with + me?” Howard closed the door carefully, heaved a huge sigh, and said + something in an undertone. He walked slantingways across the room and + turned, blowing out his cheeks again. “Ugh!” he grunted, a man + relieved. + </p> + <p> + Graham stood regarding him. + </p> + <p> + “You must understand,” began Howard abruptly, avoiding Graham’s + eyes, “that our social order is very complex. A half explanation, a + bare unqualified statement would give you false impressions. As a matter + of fact—it is a case of compound interest partly—your small + fortune, and the fortune of your cousin Warming which was left to you—and + certain other beginnings—have become very considerable. And in other + ways that will be hard for you to understand, you have become a person of + significance—of very considerable significance—involved in the + world’s affairs.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “We have grave social troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Things have come to such a pass that, in fact, it is advisable to + seclude you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep me prisoner!” exclaimed Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Well—to ask you to keep in seclusion.” + </p> + <p> + Graham turned on him. “This is strange!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No harm will be done you.” + </p> + <p> + “No harm!” + </p> + <p> + “But you must be kept here—” + </p> + <p> + “While I learn my position, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well then. Begin. Why <i>harm</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is too long a story, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason I should begin at once. You say I am a person + of importance. What was that shouting I heard? Why is a great multitude + shouting and excited because my trance is over, and who are the men in + white in that huge council chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “All in good time, Sire,” said Howard. “But not crudely, + not crudely. This is one of those flimsy times when no man has a settled + mind. Your awakening—no one expected your awakening. The Council is + consulting.” + </p> + <p> + “What council?” + </p> + <p> + “The Council you saw.” + </p> + <p> + Graham made a petulant movement. “This is not right,” he said. + “I should be told what is happening.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait. Really you must wait.” + </p> + <p> + Graham sat down abruptly. “I suppose since I have waited so long to + resume life,” he said, “that I must wait a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “That is better,” said Howard. “Yes, that is much + better. And I must leave you alone. For a space. While I attend the + discussion in the Council.... I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + He went towards the noiseless door, hesitated and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Graham walked to the door, tried it, found it securely fastened in some + way he never came to understand, turned about, paced the room restlessly, + made the circuit of the room, and sat down. He remained sitting for some + time with folded arms and knitted brow, biting his finger nails and trying + to piece together the kaleidoscopic impressions of this first hour of + awakened life; the vast mechanical spaces, the endless series of chambers + and passages, the great struggle that roared and splashed through these + strange ways, the little group of remote unsympathetic men beneath the + colossal Atlas, Howard’s mysterious behaviour. There was an inkling + of some vast inheritance already in his mind—a vast inheritance + perhaps misapplied—of some unprecedented importance and opportunity. + What had he to do? And this room’s secluded silence was eloquent of + imprisonment! + </p> + <p> + It came into Graham’s mind with irresistible conviction that this + series of magnificent impressions was a dream. He tried to shut his eyes + and succeeded, but that time-honoured device led to no awakening. + </p> + <p> + Presently he began to touch and examine all the unfamiliar appointments of + the two small rooms in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + In a long oval panel of mirror he saw himself and stopped astonished. He + was clad in a graceful costume of purple and bluish white, with a little + greyshot beard trimmed to a point, and his hair, its blackness streaked + now with bands of grey, arranged over his forehead in an unfamiliar but + pleasing manner. He seemed a man of five-and-forty perhaps. For a moment + he did not perceive this was himself. + </p> + <p> + A flash of laughter came with the recognition. “To call on old + Warming like this!” he exclaimed, “and make him take me out to + lunch!” + </p> + <p> + Then he thought of meeting first one and then another of the few familiar + acquaintances of his early manhood, and in the midst of his amusement + realised that every soul with whom he might jest had died many score of + years ago. The thought smote him abruptly and keenly; he stopped short, + the expression of his face changed to a white consternation. + </p> + <p> + The tumultuous memory of the moving platforms and the huge fagade of that + wonderful street reasserted itself. The shouting multitudes came back + clear and vivid, and those remote, inaudible, unfriendly councillors in + white. He felt himself a little figure, very small and ineffectual, + pitifully conspicuous. And all about him, the world was—<i>strange</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — IN THE SILENT ROOMS + </h2> + <p> + Presently Graham resumed his examination of his apartments. Curiosity kept + him moving in spite of his fatigue. The inner room, he perceived, was + high, and its ceiling dome shaped, with an oblong aperture in the centre, + opening into a funnel in which a wheel of broad vanes seemed to be + rotating, apparently driving the air up the shaft. The faint humming note + of its easy motion was the only clear sound in that quiet place. As these + vanes sprang up one after the other, Graham could get transient glimpses + of the sky. He was surprised to see a star. + </p> + <p> + This drew his attention to the fact that the bright lighting of these + rooms was due to a multitude of very faint glow lamps set about the + cornices. There were no windows. And he began to recall that along all the + vast chambers and passages he had traversed with Howard he had observed no + windows at all. Had there been windows? There were windows on the street + indeed, but were they for light? Or was the whole city lit day and night + for evermore, so that there was no night there? + </p> + <p> + And another thing dawned upon him. There was no fireplace in either room. + Was the season summer, and were these merely summer apartments, or was the + whole city uniformly heated or cooled? He became interested in these + questions, began examining the smooth texture of the walls, the simply + constructed bed, the ingenious arrangements by which the labour of bedroom + service was practically abolished. And over everything was a curious + absence of deliberate ornament, a bare grace of form and colour, that he + found very pleasing to the eye. There were several very comfortable + chairs, a light table on silent runners carrying several bottles of fluids + and glasses, and two plates bearing a clear substance like jelly. Then he + noticed there were no books, no newspapers, no writing materials. “The + world has changed indeed,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He observed one entire side of the outer room was set with rows of + peculiar double cylinders inscribed with green lettering on white that + harmonized with the decorative scheme of the room, and in the centre of + this side projected a little apparatus about a yard square and having a + white smooth face to the room. A chair faced this. He had a transitory + idea that these cylinders might be books, or a modern substitute for + books, but at first it did not seem so. + </p> + <p> + The lettering on the cylinders puzzled him. At first sight it seemed like + Russian. Then he noticed a suggestion of mutilated English about certain + of the words. + </p> + <p> + “Thi Man huwdbi Kin” forced itself on him as “The Man + who would be King.” + </p> + <p> + “Phonetic spelling,” he said. He remembered reading a story + with that title, then he recalled the story vividly, one of the best + stories in the world. But this thing before him was not a book as he + understood it. He puzzled out the titles of two adjacent cylinders. + “The Heart of Darkness” he had never heard of before nor + “The Madonna of the Future”—no doubt if they were indeed + stories, they were by post-Victorian authors. + </p> + <p> + He puzzled over this peculiar cylinder for some time and replaced it. Then + he turned to the square apparatus and examined that. He opened a sort of + lid and found one of the double cylinders within, and on the upper edge a + little stud like the stud of an electric bell. He pressed this and a rapid + clicking began and ceased. He became aware of voices and music, and + noticed a play of colour on the smooth front face. He suddenly realised + what this might be, and stepped back to regard it. + </p> + <p> + On the flat surface was now a little picture, very vividly coloured, and + in this picture were figures that moved. Not only did they move, but they + were conversing in clear small voices. It was exactly like reality viewed + through an inverted opera glass and heard through a long tube. His + interest was seized at once by the situation, which presented a man pacing + up and down and vociferating angry things to a pretty but petulant woman. + Both were in the picturesque costume that seemed so strange to Graham. + “I have worked,” said the man, “but what have you been + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Graham. He forgot everything else, and sat down in + the chair. Within five minutes he heard himself, named, heard “when + the Sleeper wakes,” used jestingly as a proverb for remote + postponement, and passed himself by, a thing remote and incredible. But in + a little while he knew those two people like intimate friends. + </p> + <p> + At last the miniature drama came to an end, and the square face of the + apparatus was blank again. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange world into which he had been permitted to see, + unscrupulous, pleasure seeking, energetic, subtle, a world too of dire + economic struggle; there were allusions he did not understand, incidents + that conveyed strange suggestions of altered moral ideals, flashes of + dubious enlightenment. The blue canvas that bulked so largely in his first + impression of the city ways appeared again and again as the costume of the + common people. He had no doubt the story was contemporary, and its intense + realism was undeniable. And the end had been a tragedy that oppressed him. + He sat staring at the blankness. + </p> + <p> + He started and rubbed his eyes. He had been so absorbed in the latter-day + substitute for a novel, that he awoke to the little green and white room + with more than a touch of the surprise of his first awakening. + </p> + <p> + He stood up, and abruptly he was back in his own wonderland. The clearness + of the kinetoscope drama passed, and the struggle in the vast place of + streets, the ambiguous Council, the swift phases of his waking hour, came + back. These people had spoken of the Council with suggestions of a vague + universality of power. And they had spoken of the Sleeper; it had not + really struck him vividly at the time that he was the Sleeper. He had to + recall precisely what they had said.... + </p> + <p> + He walked into the bedroom and peered up through the quick intervals of + the revolving fan. As the fan swept round, a dim turmoil like the noise of + machinery came in rhythmic eddies. All else was silence. Though the + perpetual day still irradiated his apartments, he perceived the little + intermittent strip of sky was now deep blue—black almost, with a + dust of little stars.... + </p> + <p> + He resumed his examination of the rooms. He could find no way of opening + the padded door, no bell nor other means of calling for attendance. His + feeling of wonder was in abeyance; but he was curious, anxious for + information. He wanted to know exactly how he stood to these new things. + He tried to compose himself to wait until someone came to him. Presently + he became restless and eager for information, for distraction, for fresh + sensations. + </p> + <p> + He went back to the apparatus in the other room, and had soon puzzled out + the method of replacing the cylinders by others. As he did so, it came + into his mind that it must be these little appliances had fixed the + language so that it was still clear and understandable after two hundred + years. The haphazard cylinders he substituted displayed a musical + fantasia. At first it was beautiful, and then it was sensuous. He + presently recognised what appeared to him to be an altered version of the + story of Tannhauser. The music was unfamiliar. But the rendering was + realistic, and with a contemporary unfamiliarity. Tannhauser did not go to + a Venusberg, but to a Pleasure City. What was a Pleasure City? A dream, + surely, the fancy of a fantastic, voluptuous writer. + </p> + <p> + He became interested, curious. The story developed with a flavour of + strangely twisted sentimentality. Suddenly he did not like it. He liked it + less as it proceeded. + </p> + <p> + He had a revulsion of feeling. These were no pictures, no idealisations, + but photographed realities. He wanted no more of the twenty-second century + Venusberg. He forgot the part played by the model in nineteenth century + art, and gave way to an archaic indignation. He rose, angry and half + ashamed at himself for witnessing this thing even in solitude. He pulled + forward the apparatus, and with some violence sought for a means of + stopping its action. Something snapped. A violet spark stung and convulsed + his arm and the thing was still. When he attempted next day to replace + these Tannhauser cylinders by another pair, he found the apparatus + broken.... + </p> + <p> + He struck out a path oblique to the room and paced to and fro, struggling + with intolerable vast impressions. The things he had derived from the + cylinders and the things he had seen, conflicted, confused him. It seemed + to him the most amazing thing of all that in his thirty years of life he + had never tried to shape a picture of these coming times. “We were + making the future,” he said, “and hardly any of us troubled to + think what future we were making. And here it is!” + </p> + <p> + “What have they got to, what has been done? How do I come into the + midst of it all?” The vastness of street and house he was prepared + for, the multitudes of people. But conflicts in the city ways! And the + systematised sensuality of a class of rich men! + </p> + <p> + He thought of Bellamy, the hero of whose Socialistic Utopia had so oddly + anticipated this actual experience. But here was no Utopia, no Socialistic + state. He had already seen enough to realise that the ancient antithesis + of luxury, waste and sensuality on the one hand and abject poverty on the + other, still prevailed. He knew enough of the essential factors of life to + understand that correlation. And not only were the buildings of the city + gigantic and the crowds in the street gigantic, but the voices he had + heard in the ways, the uneasiness of Howard, the very atmosphere spoke of + gigantic discontent. What country was he in? Still England it seemed, and + yet strangely “un-English.” His mind glanced at the rest of + the world, and saw only an enigmatical veil. + </p> + <p> + He prowled about his apartment, examining everything as a caged animal + might do. He was very tired, with that feverish exhaustion that does not + admit of rest. He listened for long spaces under the ventilator to catch + some distant echo of the tumults he felt must be proceeding in the city. + </p> + <p> + He began to talk to himself. “Two hundred and three years!” he + said to himself over and over again, laughing stupidly. “Then I am + two hundred and thirty-three years old! The oldest inhabitant. Surely they + haven’t reversed the tendency of our time and gone back to the rule + of the oldest. My claims are indisputable. Mumble, mumble. I remember the + Bulgarian atrocities as though it was yesterday. ‘Tis a great age! + Ha ha!” He was surprised at first to hear himself laughing, and then + laughed again deliberately and louder. Then he realised that he was + behaving foolishly. “Steady,” he said. “Steady!” + </p> + <p> + His pacing became more regular. “This new world,” he said. + “I don’t understand it. <i>Why</i>? ... But it is all <i>why</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they can fly and do all sorts of things. Let me try and + remember just how it began.” + </p> + <p> + He was surprised at first to find how vague the memories of his first + thirty years had become. He remembered fragments, for the most part + trivial moments, things of no great importance that he had observed. His + boyhood seemed the most accessible at first, he recalled school books and + certain lessons in mensuration. Then he revived the more salient features + of his life, memories of the wife long since dead, her magic influence now + gone beyond corruption, of his rivals and friends and betrayers, of the + decision of this issue and that, and then of his last years of misery, of + fluctuating resolves, and at last of his strenuous studies. In a little + while he perceived he had it all again; dim perhaps, like metal long laid + aside, but in no way defective or injured, capable of re-polishing. And + the hue of it was a deepening misery. Was it worth re-polishing? By a + miracle he had been lifted out of a life that had become intolerable.... + </p> + <p> + He reverted to his present condition. He wrestled with the facts in vain. + It became an inextricable tangle. He saw the sky through the ventilator + pink with dawn. An old persuasion came out of the dark recesses of his + memory. “I must sleep,” he said. It appeared as a delightful + relief from this mental distress and from the growing pain and heaviness + of his limbs. He went to the strange little bed, lay down and was + presently asleep.... + </p> + <p> + He was destined to become very familiar indeed with these apartments + before he left them, for he remained imprisoned for three days. During + that time no one, except Howard, entered the rooms. The marvel of his fate + mingled with and in some way minimised the marvel of his survival. He had + awakened to mankind it seemed only to be snatched away into this + unaccountable solitude. Howard came regularly with subtly sustaining and + nutritive fluids, and light and pleasant foods, quite strange to Graham. + He always closed the door carefully as he entered. On matters of detail he + was increasingly obliging, but the bearing of Graham on the great issues + that were evidently being contested so closely beyond the sound-proof + walls that enclosed him, he would not elucidate. He evaded, as politely as + possible, every question on the position of affairs in the outer world. + </p> + <p> + And in those three days Graham’s incessant thoughts went far and + wide. All that he had seen, all this elaborate contrivance to prevent him + seeing, worked together in his mind. Almost every possible interpretation + of his position he debated—even as it chanced, the right + interpretation. Things that presently happened to him, came to him at last + credible, by virtue of this seclusion. When at length the moment of his + release arrived, it found him prepared.... + </p> + <p> + Howard’s bearing went far to deepen Graham’s impression of his + own strange importance; the door between its opening and closing seemed to + admit with him a breath of momentous happening. His enquiries became more + definite and searching. Howard retreated through protests and + difficulties. The awakening was unforeseen, he repeated; it happened to + have fallen in with the trend of a social convulsion. “To explain it + I must tell you the history of a gross and a half of years,” + protested Howard. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is this,” said Graham. “You are afraid of + something I shall do. In some way I am arbitrator—I might be + arbitrator.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not that. But you have—I may tell you this much—the + automatic increase of your property puts great possibilities of + interference in your hands. And in certain other ways you have influence, + with your eighteenth century notions.” + </p> + <p> + “Nineteenth century,” corrected Graham. + </p> + <p> + “With your old world notions, anyhow, ignorant as you are of every + feature of our State.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I a fool?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I seem to be the sort of man who would act rashly?” + </p> + <p> + “You were never expected to act at all. No one counted on your + awakening. No one dreamt you would ever awake. The Council had surrounded + you with antiseptic conditions. As a matter of fact, we thought that you + were dead—a mere arrest of decay. And—but it is too complex. + We dare not suddenly—-while you are still half awake.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t do,” said Graham. “Suppose it is as you + say—why am I not being crammed night and day with facts and warnings + and all the wisdom of the time to fit me for my responsibilities? Am I any + wiser now than two days ago, if it is two days, when I awoke?” + </p> + <p> + Howard pulled his lip. + </p> + <p> + “I am beginning to feel—every hour I feel more clearly—a + system of concealment of which you are the face. Is this Council, or + committee, or whatever they are, cooking the accounts of my estate? Is + that it?” + </p> + <p> + “That note of suspicion—” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” said Graham. “Now, mark my words, it will be ill + for those who have put me here. It will be ill. I am alive. Make no doubt + of it, I am alive. Every day my pulse is stronger and my mind clearer and + more vigorous. No more quiescence. I am a man come back to life. And I + want to <i>live</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Live</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Howard’s face lit with an idea. He came towards Graham and spoke in + an easy confidential tone. + </p> + <p> + “The Council secludes you here for your good. You are restless. + Naturally—an energetic man! You find it dull here. But we are + anxious that everything you may desire—every desire—every sort + of desire ... There may be something. Is there any sort of company?” + </p> + <p> + He paused meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham thoughtfully. “There is.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! <i>Now</i>! We have treated you neglectfully.” + </p> + <p> + “The crowds in yonder streets of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Howard, “I am afraid—But—” + </p> + <p> + Graham began pacing the room. Howard stood near the door watching him. The + implication of Howard’s suggestion was only half evident to Graham. + Company? Suppose he were to accept the proposal, demand some sort of <i>company</i>? + Would there be any possibilities of gathering from the conversation of + this additional person some vague inkling of the struggle that had broken + out so vividly at his waking moment? He meditated again, and the + suggestion took colour. He turned on Howard abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by company?” + </p> + <p> + Howard raised his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Human beings,” + he said, with a curious smile on his heavy face. “Our social ideas,” + he said, “have a certain increased liberality, perhaps, in + comparison with your times. If a man wishes to relieve such a tedium as + this—by feminine society, for instance. We think it no scandal. We + have cleared our minds of formulae. There is in our city a class, a + necessary class, no longer despised—discreet—” + </p> + <p> + Graham stopped dead. + </p> + <p> + “It would pass the time,” said Howard. “It is a thing I + should perhaps have thought of before, but, as a matter of fact, so much + is happening—” + </p> + <p> + He indicated the exterior world. + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated. For a moment the figure of a possible woman dominated + his mind with an intense attraction. Then he flashed into anger. + </p> + <p> + “<i>No</i>!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + He began striding rapidly up and down the room. “Everything you say, + everything you do, convinces me—of some great issue in which I am + concerned. I do not want to pass the time, as you call it. Yes, I know. + Desire and indulgence are life in a sense—and Death! Extinction! In + my life before I slept I had worked out that pitiful question. I will not + begin again. There is a city, a multitude—. And meanwhile I am here + like a rabbit in a bag.” + </p> + <p> + His rage surged high. He choked for a moment and began to wave his + clenched fists. He gave way to an anger fit, he swore archaic curses. His + gestures had the quality of physical threats. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know who your party may be. I am in the dark, and you keep + me in the dark. But I know this, that I am secluded here for no good + purpose. For no good purpose. I warn you, I warn you of the consequences. + Once I come at my power—” + </p> + <p> + He realised that to threaten thus might be a danger to himself. He + stopped. Howard stood regarding him with a curious expression. + </p> + <p> + “I take it this is a message to the Council,” said Howard. + </p> + <p> + Graham had a momentary impulse to leap upon the man, fell or stun him. It + must have shown upon his face; at any rate Howard’s movement was + quick. In a second the noiseless door had closed again, and the man from + the nineteenth century was alone. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood rigid, with clenched hands half raised. Then he + flung them down. “What a fool I have been!” he said, and gave + way to his anger again, stamping about the room and shouting curses.... + For a long time he kept himself in a sort of frenzy, raging at his + position, at his own folly, at the knaves who had imprisoned him. He did + this because he did not want to look calmly at his position. He clung to + his anger—because he was afraid of fear. + </p> + <p> + Presently he found himself reasoning with himself. This imprisonment was + unaccountable, but no doubt the legal forms—new legal forms—of + the time permitted it. It must, of course, be legal. These people were two + hundred years further on in the march of civilisation than the Victorian + generation. It was not likely they would be less—humane. Yet they + had cleared their minds of formulae! Was humanity a formula as well as + chastity? + </p> + <p> + His imagination set to work to suggest things that might be done to him. + The attempts of his reason to dispose of these suggestions, though for the + most part logically valid, were quite unavailing. “Why should + anything be done to me?” + </p> + <p> + “If the worst comes to the worst,” he found himself saying at + last, “I can give up what they want. But what do they want? And why + don’t they ask me for it instead of cooping me up?” + </p> + <p> + He returned to his former preoccupation with the Council’s possible + intentions. He began to reconsider the details of Howard’s + behaviour, sinister glances, inexplicable hesitations. Then, for a time, + his mind circled about the idea of escaping from these rooms; but whither + could he escape into this vast, crowded world? He would be worse off than + a Saxon yeoman suddenly dropped into nineteenth century London. And + besides, how could anyone escape from these rooms? + </p> + <p> + “How can it benefit anyone if harm should happen to me?” + </p> + <p> + He thought of the tumult, the great social trouble of which he was so + unaccountably the axis. A text, irrelevant enough, and yet curiously + insistent, came floating up out of the darkness of his memory. This also a + Council had said: + </p> + <p> + “It is expedient for us that one man should die for the people.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — THE ROOF SPACES + </h2> + <p> + As the fans in the circular aperture of the inner room rotated and + permitted glimpses of the night, dim sounds drifted in thereby. And + Graham, standing underneath, was startled by the sound of a voice. + </p> + <p> + He peered up and saw in the intervals of the rotation, dark and dim, the + face and shoulders of a man regarding him. Then a dark hand was extended, + the swift vane struck it, swung round and beat on with a little brownish + patch on the edge of its thin blade, and something began to fall therefrom + upon the floor, dripping silently. + </p> + <p> + Graham looked down, and there were spots of blood at his feet. He looked + up again in a strange excitement. The figure had gone. + </p> + <p> + He remained motionless—his every sense intent upon the flickering + patch of darkness. He became aware of some faint, remote, dark specks + floating lightly through the outer air. They came down towards him, + fitfully, eddyingly, and passed aside out of the uprush from the fan. A + gleam of light flickered, the specks flashed white, and then the darkness + came again. Warmed and lit as he was, he perceived that it was snowing + within a few feet of him. + </p> + <p> + Graham walked across the room and came back to the ventilator again. He + saw the head of a man pass near. There was a sound of whispering. Then a + smart blow on some metallic substance, effort, voices, and the vanes + stopped. A gust of snowflakes whirled into the room, and vanished before + they touched the floor. “Don’t be afraid,” said a voice. + </p> + <p> + Graham stood under the vane. “Who are you?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was nothing but a swaying of the fan, and then the head + of a man was thrust cautiously into the opening. His face appeared nearly + inverted to Graham; his dark hair was wet with dissolving flakes of snow + upon it. His arm went up into the darkness holding something unseen. He + had a youthful face and bright eyes, and the veins of his forehead were + swollen. He seemed to be exerting himself to maintain his position. + </p> + <p> + For several seconds neither he nor Graham spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You were the Sleeper?” said the stranger at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. “What do you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I come from Ostrog, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog?” + </p> + <p> + The man in the ventilator twisted his head round so that his profile was + towards Graham. He appeared to be listening. Suddenly there was a hasty + exclamation, and the intruder sprang back just in time to escape the sweep + of the released fan. And when Graham peered up there was nothing visible + but the slowly falling snow. + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps a quarter of an hour before anything returned to the + ventilator. But at last came the same metallic interference again; the + fans stopped and the face reappeared. Graham had remained all this time in + the same place, alert and tremulously excited. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? What do you want?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We want to speak to you, Sire,” said the intruder. “We + want—I can’t hold the thing. We have been trying to find a way + to you—these three days.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it rescue?” whispered Graham. “Escape?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sire. If you will.” + </p> + <p> + “You are my party—the party of the Sleeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + There was a struggle. The stranger’s arm appeared, and his hand was + bleeding. His knees came into view over the edge of the funnel. “Stand + away from me,” he said, and he dropped rather heavily on his hands + and one shoulder at Graham’s feet. The released ventilator whirled + noisily. The stranger rolled over, sprang up nimbly and stood panting, + hand to a bruised shoulder, and with his bright eyes on Graham. + </p> + <p> + “You are indeed the Sleeper,” he said. “I saw you + asleep. When it was the law that anyone might see you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the man who was in the trance,” said Graham. “They + have imprisoned me here. I have been here since I awoke—at least + three days.” + </p> + <p> + The intruder seemed about to speak, heard something, glanced swiftly at + the door, and suddenly left Graham and ran towards it, shouting quick + incoherent words. A bright wedge of steel flashed in his hand, and he + began tap, tap, a quick succession of blows upon the hinges. “Mind!” + cried a voice. “Oh!” The voice came from above. + </p> + <p> + Graham glanced up, saw the soles of two feet, ducked, was struck on the + shoulder by one of them, and a heavy weight bore him to the earth. He fell + on his knees and forward, and the weight went over his head. He knelt up + and saw a second man from above seated before him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not see you, Sire,” panted the man. He rose and + assisted Graham to rise. “Are you hurt, Sire?” he panted. A + succession of heavy blows on the ventilator began, something fell close to + Graham’s face, and a shivering edge of white metal danced, fell + over, and lay fiat upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” cried Graham, confused and looking at the + ventilator. “Who are you? What are you going to do? Remember, I + understand nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Stand back,” said the stranger, and drew him from under the + ventilator as another fragment of metal fell heavily. + </p> + <p> + “We want you to come, Sire,” panted the newcomer, and Graham + glancing at his face again, saw a new cut had changed from white to red on + his forehead, and a couple of little trickles of blood starting therefrom. + “Your people call for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come where? My people?” + </p> + <p> + “To the hall about the markets. Your life is in danger here. We have + spies. We learned but just in time. The Council has decided—this + very day—either to drug or kill you. And everything is ready. The + people are drilled, the Wind-Vane police, the engineers, and half the + way-gearers are with us. We have the halls crowded—shouting. The + whole city shouts against the Council. We have arms.” He wiped the + blood with his hand. “Your life here is not worth—” + </p> + <p> + “But why arms?” + </p> + <p> + “The people have risen to protect you, Sire. What?” + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly as the man who had first come down made a hissing with + his teeth. Graham saw the latter start back, gesticulate to them to + conceal themselves, and move as if to hide behind the opening door. + </p> + <p> + As he did so Howard appeared, a little tray in one hand and his heavy face + downcast. He started, looked up, the door slammed behind him, the tray + tilted side-ways, and the steel wedge struck him behind the ear. He went + down like a felled tree, and lay as he fell athwart the floor of the outer + room. The man who had struck him bent hastily, studied his face for a + moment, rose, and returned to his work at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Your poison!” said a voice in Graham’s ear. + </p> + <p> + Then abruptly they were in darkness. The innumerable cornice lights had + been extinguished. Graham saw the aperture of the ventilator with ghostly + snow whirling above it and dark figures moving hastily. Three knelt on the + vane. Some dim thing—a ladder—was being lowered through the + opening, and a hand appeared holding a fitful yellow light. + </p> + <p> + He had a moment of hesitation. But the manner of these men, their swift + alacrity, their words, marched so completely with his own fears of the + Council, with his idea and hope of a rescue, that it lasted not a moment. + And his people awaited him! + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” he said. “I trust. Tell me what + to do.” + </p> + <p> + The man with the cut brow gripped Graham’s arm. “Clamber up + the ladder,” he whispered. “Quick. They will have heard—” + </p> + <p> + Graham felt for the ladder with extended hands, put his foot on the lower + rung, and, turning his head, saw over the shoulder of the nearest man, in + the yellow flicker of the light, the first-comer astride over Howard and + still working at the door. Graham turned to the ladder again, and was + thrust by his conductor and helped up by those above, and then he was + standing on something hard and cold and slippery outside the ventilating + funnel. + </p> + <p> + He shivered. He was aware of a great difference in the temperature. Half a + dozen men stood about him, and light flakes of snow touched hands and face + and melted. For a moment it was dark, then for a flash a ghastly violet + white, and then everything was dark again. + </p> + <p> + He saw he had come out upon the roof of the vast city structure which had + replaced the miscellaneous houses, streets and open spaces of Victorian + London. The place upon which he stood was level, with huge serpentine + cables lying athwart it in every direction. The circular wheels of a + number of windmills loomed indistinct and gigantic through the darkness + and snowfall, and roared with a varying loudness as the fitful wind rose + and fell. Some way off an intermittent white light smote up from below, + touched the snow eddies with a transient glitter, and made an evanescent + spectre in the night; and here and there, low down, some vaguely outlined + wind-driven mechanism flickered with livid sparks. + </p> + <p> + All this he appreciated in a fragmentary manner as his rescuers stood + about him. Someone threw a thick soft cloak of fur-like texture about him, + and fastened it by buckled straps at waist and shoulders. Things were said + briefly, decisively. Someone thrust him forward. + </p> + <p> + Before his mind was yet clear a dark shape gripped his arm. “This + way,” said this shape, urging him along, and pointed Graham across + the flat roof in the direction of a dim semicircular haze of light. Graham + obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Mind!” said a voice, as Graham stumbled against a cable. + “Between them and not across them,” said the voice. And, + “We must hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the people?” said Graham. “The people you + said awaited me?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger did not answer. He left Graham’s arm as the path grew + narrower, and led the way with rapid strides. Graham followed blindly. In + a minute he found himself running. “Are the others coming?” he + panted, but received no reply. His companion glanced back and ran on. They + came to a sort of pathway of open metal-work, transverse to the direction + they had come, and they turned aside to follow this. Graham looked back, + but the snowstorm had hidden the others. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” said his guide. Running now, they drew near a + little windmill spinning high in the air. “Stoop,” said Graham’s + guide, and they avoided an endless band running roaring up to the shaft of + the vane. “This way!” and they were ankle deep in a gutter + full of drifted thawing snow, between two low walls of metal that + presently rose waist high. “I will go first,” said the guide. + Graham drew his cloak about him and followed. Then suddenly came a narrow + abyss across which the gutter leapt to the snowy darkness of the further + side. Graham peeped over the side once and the gulf was black. For a + moment he regretted his flight. He dared not look again, and his brain + spun as he waded through the half liquid snow. + </p> + <p> + Then out of the gutter they clambered and hurried across a wide flat space + damp with thawing snow, and for half its extent dimly translucent to + lights that went to and fro underneath. He hesitated at this unstable + looking substance, but his guide ran on unheeding, and so they came to and + clambered up slippery steps to the rim of a great dome of glass. Round + this they went. Far below a number of people seemed to be dancing, and + music filtered through the dome.... Graham fancied he heard a shouting + through the snowstorm, and his guide hurried him on with a new spurt of + haste. They clambered panting to a space of huge windmills, one so vast + that only the lower edge of its vanes came rushing into sight and rushed + up again and was lost in the night and the snow. They hurried for a time + through the colossal metallic tracery of its supports, and came at last + above a place of moving platforms like the place into which Graham had + looked from the balcony. They crawled across the sloping transparency that + covered this street of platforms, crawling on hands and knees because of + the slipperiness of the snowfall. + </p> + <p> + For the most part the glass was bedewed, and Graham saw only hazy + suggestions of the forms below, but near the pitch of the transparent roof + the glass was clear, and he found himself looking sheerly down upon it + all. For awhile, in spite of the urgency of his guide, he gave way to + vertigo and lay spread-eagled on the glass, sick and paralysed. Far below, + mere stirring specks and dots, went the people of the unsleeping city in + their perpetual daylight, and the moving platforms ran on their incessant + journey. Messengers and men on unknown businesses shot along the drooping + cables and the frail bridges were crowded with men. It was like peering + into a gigantic glass hive, and it lay vertically below him with only a + tough glass of unknown thickness to save him from a fall. The street + showed warm and lit, and Graham was wet now to the skin with thawing snow, + and his feet were numbed with cold. For a space he could not move. “Come + on!” cried his guide, with terror in his voice. “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + Graham reached the pitch of the roof by an effort. + </p> + <p> + Over the ridge, following his guide’s example, he turned about and + slid backward down the opposite slope very swiftly, amid a little + avalanche of snow. While he was sliding he thought of what would happen if + some broken gap should come in his way. At the edge he stumbled to his + feet ankle deep in slush, thanking heaven for an opaque footing again. His + guide was already clambering up a metal screen to a level expanse. + </p> + <p> + Through the spare snowflakes above this loomed another line of vast + windmills, and then suddenly the amorphous tumult of the rotating wheels + was pierced with a deafening sound. It was a mechanical shrilling of + extraordinary intensity that seemed to come simultaneously from every + point of the compass. + </p> + <p> + “They have missed us already!” cried Graham’s guide in + an accent of terror, and suddenly, with a blinding flash, the night became + day. + </p> + <p> + Above the driving snow, from the summits of the wind-wheels, appeared vast + masts carrying globes of livid light. They receded in illimitable vistas + in every direction. As far as his eye could penetrate the snowfall they + glared. + </p> + <p> + “Get on this,” cried Graham’s conductor, and thrust him + forward to a long grating of snowless metal that ran like a band between + two slightly sloping expanses of snow. It felt warm to Graham’s + benumbed feet, and a faint eddy of steam rose from it. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” shouted his guide ten yards off, and, without + waiting, ran swiftly through the incandescent glare towards the iron + supports of the next range of wind-wheels. Graham, recovering from his + astonishment, followed as fast, convinced of his imminent capture.... + </p> + <p> + In a score of seconds they were within a tracery of glare and black + shadows shot with moving bars beneath the monstrous wheels. Graham’s + conductor ran on for some time, and suddenly darted sideways and vanished + into a black shadow in the corner of the foot of a huge support. In + another moment Graham was beside him. + </p> + <p> + They cowered panting and stared out. + </p> + <p> + The scene upon which Graham looked was very wild and strange. The snow had + now almost ceased; only a belated flake passed now and again across the + picture. But the broad stretch of level before them was a ghastly white, + broken only by gigantic masses and moving shapes and lengthy strips of + impenetrable darkness, vast ungainly Titans of shadow. All about them, + huge metallic structures, iron girders, inhumanly vast as it seemed to + him, interlaced, and the edges of wind-wheels, scarcely moving in the + lull, passed in great shining curves steeper and steeper up into a + luminous haze. Wherever the snow-spangled light struck down, beams and + girders, and incessant bands running with a halting, indomitable + resolution, passed upward and downward into the black. And with all that + mighty activity, with an omnipresent sense of motive and design, this + snow-clad desolation of mechanism seemed void of all human presence save + themselves, seemed as trackless and deserted and unfrequented by men as + some inaccessible Alpine snowfield. + </p> + <p> + “They will be chasing us,” cried the leader. “We are + scarcely halfway there yet. Cold as it is we must hide here for a space—at + least until it snows more thickly again.” + </p> + <p> + His teeth chattered in his head. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the markets?” asked Graham staring out. “Where + are all the people?” + </p> + <p> + The other made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Look</i>!” whispered Graham, crouched close, and became + very still. + </p> + <p> + The snow had suddenly become thick again, and sliding with the whirling + eddies out of the black pit of the sky came something, vague and large and + very swift. It came down in a steep curve and swept round, wide wings + extended and a trail of white condensing steam behind it, rose with an + easy swiftness and went gliding up the air, swept horizontally forward in + a wide curve, and vanished again in the steaming specks of snow. And, + through the ribs of its body, Graham saw two little men, very minute and + active, searching the snowy areas about him, as it seemed to him, with + field glasses. For a second they were clear, then hazy through a thick + whirl of snow, then small and distant, and in a minute they were gone. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Now</i>!” cried his companion. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + He pulled Graham’s sleeve, and incontinently the two were running + headlong down the arcade of iron-work beneath the wind-wheels. Graham, + running blindly, collided with his leader, who had turned back on him + suddenly. He found himself within a dozen yards of a black chasm. It + extended as far as he could see right and left. It seemed to cut off their + progress in either direction. + </p> + <p> + “Do as I do,” whispered his guide. He lay down and crawled to + the edge, thrust his head over and twisted until one leg hung. He seemed + to feel for something with his foot, found it, and went sliding over the + edge into the gulf. His head reappeared. “It is a ledge,” he + whispered. “In the dark all the way along. Do as I did.” + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated, went down upon all fours, crawled to the edge, and + peered into a velvety blackness. For a sickly moment he had courage + neither to go on nor retreat, then he sat and hung his leg down, felt his + guide’s hands pulling at him, had a horrible sensation of sliding + over the edge into the unfathomable, splashed, and felt himself in a + slushy gutter, impenetrably dark. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” whispered the voice, and he began crawling along + the gutter through the trickling thaw, pressing himself against the wall. + They continued along it for some minutes. He seemed to pass through a + hundred stages of misery, to pass minute after minute through a hundred + degrees of cold, damp, and exhaustion. In a little while he ceased to feel + his hands and feet. + </p> + <p> + The gutter sloped downwards. He observed that they were now many feet + below the edge of the buildings. Rows of spectral white shapes like the + ghosts of blind-drawn windows rose above them. They came to the end of a + cable fastened above one of these white windows, dimly visible and + dropping into impenetrable shadows. Suddenly his hand came against his + guide’s. “<i>Still</i>!” whispered the latter very + softly. + </p> + <p> + He looked up with a start and saw the huge wings of the flying machine + gliding slowly and noiselessly overhead athwart the broad band of + snow-flecked grey-blue sky. In a moment it was hidden again. + </p> + <p> + “Keep still; they were just turning.” + </p> + <p> + For awhile both were motionless, then Graham’s companion stood up, + and reaching towards the fastenings of the cable fumbled with some + indistinct tackle. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + The only answer was a faint cry. The man crouched motionless. Graham + peered and saw his face dimly. He was staring down the long ribbon of sky, + and Graham, following his eyes, saw the flying machine small and faint and + remote. Then he saw that the wings spread on either side, that it headed + towards them, that every moment it grew larger. It was following the edge + of the chasm towards them. + </p> + <p> + The man’s movements became convulsive. He thrust two cross bars into + Graham’s hand. Graham could not see them, he ascertained their form + by feeling. They were slung by thin cords to the cable. On the cord were + hand grips of some soft elastic substance. “Put the cross between + your legs,” whispered the guide hysterically, “and grip the + holdfasts. Grip tightly, grip!” + </p> + <p> + Graham did as he was told. + </p> + <p> + “Jump,” said the voice. “In heaven’s name, jump!” + </p> + <p> + For one momentous second Graham could not speak. He was glad afterwards + that darkness hid his face. He said nothing. He began to tremble + violently. He looked sideways at the swift shadow that swallowed up the + sky as it rushed upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Jump! Jump—in God’s name! Or they will have us,” + cried Graham’s guide, and in the violence of his passion thrust him + forward. + </p> + <p> + Graham tottered convulsively, gave a sobbing cry, a cry in spite of + himself, and then, as the flying machine swept over them, fell forward + into the pit of that darkness, seated on the cross wood and holding the + ropes with the clutch of death. Something cracked, something rapped + smartly against a wall. He heard the pulley of the cradle hum on its rope. + He heard the aeronauts shout. He felt a pair of knees digging into his + back.... He was sweeping headlong through the air, falling through the + air. All his strength was in his hands. He would have screamed but he had + no breath. + </p> + <p> + He shot into a blinding light that made him grip the tighter. He + recognised the great passage with the running ways, the hanging lights and + interlacing girders. They rushed upward and by him. He had a momentary + impression of a great round mouth yawning to swallow him up. + </p> + <p> + He was in the dark again, falling, falling, gripping with aching hands, + and behold! a clap of sound, a burst of light, and he was in a brightly + lit hall with a roaring multitude of people beneath his feet. The people! + His people! A proscenium, a stage rushed up towards him, and his cable + swept down to a circular aperture to the right of this. He felt he was + travelling slower, and suddenly very much slower. He distinguished shouts + of “Saved! The Master. He is safe!” The stage rushed up + towards him with rapidly diminishing swiftness. Then— + </p> + <p> + He heard the man clinging behind him shout as if suddenly terrified, and + this shout was echoed by a shout from below. He felt that he was no longer + gliding along the cable but falling with it. There was a tumult of yells, + screams, and cries. He felt something soft against his extended hand, and + the impact of a broken fall quivering through his arm.... + </p> + <p> + He wanted to be still and the people were lifting him. He believed + afterwards he was carried to the platform and given some drink, but he was + never sure. He did not notice what became of his guide. When his mind was + clear again he was on his feet; eager hands were assisting him to stand. + He was in a big alcove, occupying the position that in his previous + experience had been devoted to the lower boxes. If this was indeed a + theatre. + </p> + <p> + A mighty tumult was in his ears, a thunderous roar, the shouting of a + countless multitude. “It is the Sleeper! The Sleeper is with us!” + </p> + <p> + “The Sleeper is with us! The Master—the Owner! The Master is + with us. He is safe.” + </p> + <p> + Graham had a surging vision of a great hall crowded with people. He saw no + individuals, he was conscious of a froth of pink faces, of waving arms and + garments, he felt the occult influence of a vast crowd pouring over him, + buoying him up. There were balconies, galleries, great archways giving + remoter perspectives, and everywhere people, a vast arena of people, + densely packed and cheering. Across the nearer space lay the collapsed + cable like a huge snake. It had been cut by the men of the flying machine + at its upper end, and had crumpled down into the hall. Men seemed to be + hauling this out of the way. But the whole effect was vague, the very + buildings throbbed and leapt with the roar of the voices. + </p> + <p> + He stood unsteadily and looked at those about him. Someone supported him + by one arm. “Let me go into a little room,” he said, weeping; + “a little room,” and could say no more. A man in black stepped + forward, took his disengaged arm. He was aware of officious men opening a + door before him. Someone guided him to a seat. He staggered. He sat down + heavily and covered his face with his hands; he was trembling violently, + his nervous control was at an end. He was relieved of his cloak, he could + not remember how; his purple hose he saw were black with wet. People were + running about him, things were happening, but for some time he gave no + heed to them. + </p> + <p> + He had escaped. A myriad of cries told him that. He was safe. These were + the people who were on his side. For a space he sobbed for breath, and + then he sat still with his face covered. The air was full of the shouting + of innumerable men. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — THE PEOPLE MARCH + </h2> + <p> + He became aware of someone urging a glass of clear fluid upon his + attention, looked up and discovered this was a dark young man in a yellow + garment. He took the dose forthwith, and in a moment he was glowing. A + tall man in a black robe stood by his shoulder, and pointed to the half + open door into the hall. This man was shouting close to his ear and yet + what was said was indistinct because of the tremendous uproar from the + great theatre. Behind the man was a girl in a silvery grey robe, whom + Graham, even in this confusion, perceived to be beautiful. Her dark eyes, + full of wonder and curiosity, were fixed on him, her lips trembled apart. + A partially opened door gave a glimpse of the crowded hall, and admitted a + vast uneven tumult, a hammering, clapping and shouting that died away and + began again, and rose to a thunderous pitch, and so continued + intermittently all the time that Graham remained in the little room. He + watched the lips of the man in black and gathered that he was making some + explanation. + </p> + <p> + He stared stupidly for some moments at these things and then stood up + abruptly; he grasped the arm of this shouting person. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me!” he cried. “Who am I? Who am I?” + </p> + <p> + The others came nearer to hear his words. “Who am I?” His eyes + searched their faces. + </p> + <p> + “They have told him nothing!” cried the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, tell me!” cried Graham. + </p> + <p> + “You are the Master of the Earth. You are owner of the world.” + </p> + <p> + He did not believe he heard aright. He resisted the persuasion. He + pretended not to understand, not to hear. He lifted his voice again. + “I have been awake three days—a prisoner three days. I judge + there is some struggle between a number of people in this city—it is + London?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the younger man. + </p> + <p> + “And those who meet in the great hall with the white Atlas? How does + it concern me? In some way it has to do with me. <i>Why</i>, I don’t + know. Drugs? It seems to me that while I have slept the world has gone + mad. I have gone mad.... Who are those Councillors under the Atlas? Why + should they try to drug me?” + </p> + <p> + “To keep you insensible,” said the man in yellow. “To + prevent your interference.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>why</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Because <i>you</i> are the Atlas, Sire,” said the man in + yellow. “The world is on your shoulders. They rule it in your name.” + </p> + <p> + The sounds from the hall had died into a silence threaded by one + monotonous voice. Now suddenly, trampling on these last words, came a + deafening tumult, a roaring and thundering, cheer crowded on cheer, voices + hoarse and shrill, beating, overlapping, and while it lasted the people in + the little room could not hear each other shout. + </p> + <p> + Graham stood, his intelligence clinging helplessly to the thing he had + just heard. “The Council,” he repeated blankly, and then + snatched at a name that had struck him. “But who is Ostrog?” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “He is the organiser—the organiser of the revolt. Our Leader—in + your name.” + </p> + <p> + “In my name?—And you? Why is he not here?” + </p> + <p> + “He—has deputed us. I am his brother—his half-brother, + Lincoln. He wants you to show yourself to these people and then come on to + him. That is why he has sent. He is at the wind-vane offices directing. + The people are marching.” + </p> + <p> + “In your name,” shouted the younger man. “They have + ruled, crushed, tyrannised. At last even—” + </p> + <p> + “In my name! My name! Master?” + </p> + <p> + The younger man suddenly became audible in a pause of the outer thunder, + indignant and vociferous, a high penetrating voice under his red aquiline + nose and bushy moustache. “No one expected you to wake. No one + expected you to wake. They were cunning. Damned tyrants! But they were + taken by surprise. They did not know whether to drug you, hypnotise you, + kill you.” + </p> + <p> + Again the hall dominated everything. + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog is at the wind-vane offices ready—. Even now there is + a rumour of fighting beginning.” + </p> + <p> + The man who had called himself Lincoln came close to him. “Ostrog + has it planned. Trust him. We have our organisations ready. We shall seize + the flying stages—. Even now he may be doing that. Then—” + </p> + <p> + “This public theatre,” bawled the man in yellow, “is + only a contingent. We have five myriads of drilled men—” + </p> + <p> + “We have arms,” cried Lincoln. “We have plans. A leader. + Their police have gone from the streets and are massed in the—” + (inaudible). “It is now or never. The Council is rocking—They + cannot trust even their drilled men—” + </p> + <p> + “Hear the people calling to you!” + </p> + <p> + Graham’s mind was like a night of moon and swift clouds, now dark + and hopeless, now clear and ghastly. He was Master of the Earth, he was a + man sodden with thawing snow. Of all his fluctuating impressions the + dominant ones presented an antagonism; on the one hand was the White + Council, powerful, disciplined, few, the White Council from which he had + just escaped; and on the other, monstrous crowds, packed masses of + indistinguishable people clamouring his name, hailing him Master. The + other side had imprisoned him, debated his death. These shouting thousands + beyond the little doorway had rescued him. But why these things should be + so he could not understand. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, Lincoln’s voice was swept away and drowned, and a + rash of people followed on the heels of the tumult. These intruders came + towards him and Lincoln gesticulating. The voices without explained their + soundless lips. “Show us the Sleeper, show us the Sleeper!” + was the burden of the uproar. Men were bawling for “Order! Silence!” + </p> + <p> + Graham glanced towards the open doorway, and saw a tall, oblong picture of + the hall beyond, a waving, incessant confusion of crowded, shouting faces, + men and women together, waving pale blue garments, extended hands. Many + were standing, one man in rags of dark brown, a gaunt figure, stood on the + seat and waved a black cloth. He met the wonder and expectation of the + girl’s eyes. What did these people expect from him. He was dimly + aware that the tumult outside had changed its character, was in some way + beating, marching. His own mind, too, changed. For a space he did not + recognise the influence that was transforming him. But a moment that was + near to panic passed. He tried to make audible inquiries of what was + required of him. + </p> + <p> + Lincoln was shouting in his ear, but Graham was deafened to that. All the + others save the woman gesticulated towards the hall. He perceived what had + happened to the uproar. The whole mass of people was chanting together. It + was not simply a song, the voices were gathered together and upborne by a + torrent of instrumental music, music like the music of an organ, a woven + texture of sounds, full of trumpets, full of flaunting banners, full of + the march and pageantry of opening war. And the feet of the people were + beating time—tramp, tramp. + </p> + <p> + He was urged towards the door. He obeyed mechanically. The strength of + that chant took hold of him, stirred him, emboldened him. The hall opened + to him, a vast welter of fluttering colour swaying to the music. + </p> + <p> + “Wave your arm to them,” said Lincoln. “Wave your arm to + them.” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said a voice on the other side, “he must have + this.” Arms were about his neck detaining him in the doorway, and a + black subtly-folding mantle hung from his shoulders. He threw his arm free + of this and followed Lincoln. He perceived the girl in grey close to him, + her face lit, her gesture onward. For the instant she became to him, + flushed and eager as she was, an embodiment of the song. He emerged in the + alcove again. Incontinently the mounting waves of the song broke upon his + appearing, and flashed up into a foam of shouting. Guided by Lincoln’s + hand he marched obliquely across the centre of the stage facing the + people. + </p> + <p> + The hall was a vast and intricate space—galleries, balconies, broad + spaces of amphitheatral steps, and great archways. Far away, high up, + seemed the mouth of a huge passage full of struggling humanity. The whole + multitude was swaying in congested masses. Individual figures sprang out + of the tumult, impressed him momentarily, and lost definition again. Close + to the platform swayed a beautiful fair woman, carried by three men, her + hair across her face and brandishing a green staff. Next this group an old + careworn man in blue canvas maintained his place in the crush with + difficulty, and behind shouted a hairless face, a great cavity of + toothless mouth. A voice called that enigmatical word “Ostrog.” + All his impressions were vague save the massive emotion of that trampling + song. The multitude were beating time with their feet—marking time, + tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The green weapons waved, flashed and slanted. + Then he saw those nearest to him on a level space before the stage were + marching in front of him, passing towards a great archway, shouting + “To the Council!” Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. He raised his + arm, and the roaring was redoubled. He remembered he had to shout “March!” + His mouth shaped inaudible heroic words. He waved his arm again and + pointed to the archway, shouting “Onward!” They were no longer + marking time, they were marching; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. In that host + were bearded men, old men, youths, fluttering robed bare-armed women, + girls. Men and women of the new age! Rich robes, grey rags fluttered + together in the whirl of their movement amidst the dominant blue. A + monstrous black banner jerked its way to the right. He perceived a + blue-clad negro, a shrivelled woman in yellow, then a group of tall + fair-haired, white-faced, blue-clad men pushed theatrically past him. He + noted two Chinamen. A tall, sallow, dark-haired, shining-eyed youth, white + clad from top to toe, clambered up towards the platform shouting loyally, + and sprang down again and receded, looking backward. Heads, shoulders, + hands clutching weapons, all were swinging with those marching cadences. + </p> + <p> + Faces came out of the confusion to him as he stood there, eyes met his and + passed and vanished. Men gesticulated to him, shouted inaudible personal + things. Most of the faces were flushed, but many were ghastly white. And + disease was there, and many a hand that waved to him was gaunt and lean. + Men and women of the new age! Strange and incredible meeting! As the broad + stream passed before him to the right, tributary gangways from the remote + uplands of the hall thrust downward in an incessant replacement of people; + tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The unison of the song was enriched and + complicated by the massive echoes of arches and passages. Men and women + mingled in the ranks; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The whole world seemed + marching. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp; his brain was tramping. The garments + waved onward, the faces poured by more abundantly. + </p> + <p> + Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp; at Lincoln’s pressure he turned towards + the archway, walking unconsciously in that rhythm, scarcely noticing his + movement for the melody and stir of it. The multitude, the gesture and + song, all moved in that direction, the flow of people smote downward until + the upturned faces were below the level of his feet. He was aware of a + path before him, of a suite about him, of guards and dignities, and + Lincoln on his right hand. Attendants intervened, and ever and again + blotted out the sight of the multitude to the left. Before him went the + backs of the guards in black—three and three and three. He was + marched along a little railed way, and crossed above the archway, with the + torrent dipping to flow beneath, and shouting up to him. He did not know + whither he went; he did not want to know. He glanced back across a flaming + spaciousness of hall. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — THE BATTLE OF THE DARKNESS + </h2> + <p> + He was no longer in the hall. He was marching along a gallery overhanging + one of the great streets of the moving platforms that traversed the city. + Before him and behind him tramped his guards. The whole concave of the + moving ways below was a congested mass of people marching, tramping to the + left, shouting, waving hands and arms, pouring along a huge vista, + shouting as they came into view, shouting as they passed, shouting as they + receded, until the globes of electric light receding in perspective + dropped down it seemed and hid the swarming bare heads. Tramp, tramp, + tramp, tramp. + </p> + <p> + The song roared up to Graham now, no longer upborne by music, but coarse + and noisy, and the beating of the marching feet, tramp, tramp, tramp, + tramp, interwove with a thunderous irregularity of footsteps from the + undisciplined rabble that poured along the higher ways. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly he noted a contrast. The buildings on the opposite side of the + way seemed deserted, the cables and bridges that laced across the aisle + were empty and shadowy. It came into Graham’s mind that these also + should have swarmed with people. + </p> + <p> + He felt a curious emotion—throbbing—very fast! He stopped + again. The guards before him marched on; those about him stopped as he + did. He saw anxiety and fear in their faces. The throbbing had something + to do with the lights. He too looked up. + </p> + <p> + At first it seemed to him a thing that affected the lights simply, an + isolated phenomenon, having no bearing on the things below. Each huge + globe of blinding whiteness was as it were clutched, compressed in a + systole that was followed by a transitory diastole, and again a systole + like a tightening grip, darkness, light, darkness, in rapid alternation. + </p> + <p> + Graham became aware that this strange behaviour of the lights had to do + with the people below. The appearance of the houses and ways, the + appearance of the packed masses changed, became a confusion of vivid + lights and leaping shadows. He saw a multitude of shadows had sprung into + aggressive existence, seemed rushing up, broadening, widening, growing + with steady swiftness—to leap suddenly back and return reinforced. + The song and the tramping had ceased. The unanimous march, he discovered, + was arrested, there were eddies, a flow sideways, shouts of “The + lights!” Voices were crying together one thing. “The lights!” + cried these voices. “The lights!” He looked down. In this + dancing death of the lights the area of the street had suddenly become a + monstrous struggle. The huge white globes became purple-white, purple with + a reddish glow, flickered, flickered faster and faster, fluttered between + light and extinction, ceased to flicker and became mere fading specks of + glowing red in a vast obscurity. In ten seconds the extinction was + accomplished, and there was only this roaring darkness, a black + monstrosity that had suddenly swallowed up those glittering myriads of + men. + </p> + <p> + He felt invisible forms about him; his arms were gripped. Something rapped + sharply against his shin. A voice bawled in his ear, “It is all + right—all right.” + </p> + <p> + Graham shook off the paralysis of his first astonishment. He struck his + forehead against Lincoln’s and bawled, “What is this darkness?” + </p> + <p> + “The Council has cut the currents that light the city. We must wait—stop. + The people will go on. They will—” + </p> + <p> + His voice was drowned. Voices were shouting, “Save the Sleeper. Take + care of the Sleeper.” A guard stumbled against Graham and hurt his + hand by an inadvertent blow of his weapon. A wild tumult tossed and + whirled about him, growing, as it seemed, louder, denser, more furious + each moment. Fragments of recognisable sounds drove towards him, were + whirled away from him as his mind reached out to grasp them. Voices seemed + to be shouting conflicting orders, other voices answered. There were + suddenly a succession of piercing screams close beneath them. + </p> + <p> + A voice bawled in his ear, “The red police,” and receded + forthwith beyond his questions. + </p> + <p> + A crackling sound grew to distinctness, and therewith a leaping of faint + flashes along the edge of the further ways. By their light Graham saw the + heads and bodies of a number of men, armed with weapons like those of his + guards, leap into an instant’s dim visibility. The whole area began + to crackle, to flash with little instantaneous streaks of light, and + abruptly the darkness rolled back like a curtain. + </p> + <p> + A glare of light dazzled his eyes, a vast seething expanse of struggling + men confused his mind. A shout, a burst of cheering, came across the ways. + He looked up to see the source of the light. A man hung far overhead from + the upper part of a cable, holding by a rope the blinding star that had + driven the darkness back. + </p> + <p> + Graham’s eyes fell to the ways again. A wedge of red a little way + along the vista caught his eye. He saw it was a dense mass of red-clad men + jammed on the higher further way, their backs against the pitiless cliff + of building, and surrounded by a dense crowd of antagonists. They were + fighting. Weapons flashed and rose and fell, heads vanished at the edge of + the contest, and other heads replaced them, the little flashes from the + green weapons became little jets of smoky grey while the light lasted. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly the flare was extinguished and the ways were an inky darkness + once more, a tumultuous mystery. + </p> + <p> + He felt something thrusting against him. He was being pushed along the + gallery. Someone was shouting—it might be at him. He was too + confused to hear. He was thrust against the wall, and a number of people + blundered past him. It seemed to him that his guards were struggling with + one another. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the cable-hung star-holder appeared again, and the whole scene + was white and dazzling. The band of red-coats seemed broader and nearer; + its apex was half-way down the ways towards the central aisle. And raising + his eyes Graham saw that a number of these men had also appeared now in + the darkened lower galleries of the opposite building, and were firing + over the heads of their fellows below at the boiling confusion of people + on the lower ways. The meaning of these things dawned upon him. The march + of the people had come upon an ambush at the very outset. Thrown into + confusion by the extinction of the lights they were now being attacked by + the red police. Then he became aware that he was standing alone, that his + guards and Lincoln were along the gallery in the direction along which he + had come before the darkness fell. He saw they were gesticulating to him + wildly, running back towards him. A great shouting came from across the + ways. Then it seemed as though the whole face of the darkened building + opposite was lined and speckled with red-clad men. And they were pointing + over to him and shouting. “The Sleeper! Save the Sleeper!” + shouted a multitude of throats. + </p> + <p> + Something struck the wall above his head. He looked up at the impact and + saw a star-shaped splash of silvery metal. He saw Lincoln near him. Felt + his arm gripped. Then, pat, pat; he had been missed twice. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he did not understand this. The street was hidden, everything + was hidden, as he looked. The second flare had burned out. + </p> + <p> + Lincoln had gripped Graham by the arm, was lugging him along the gallery. + “Before the next light!” he cried. His haste was contagious. + Graham’s instinct of self-preservation overcame the paralysis of his + incredulous astonishment. He became for a time the blind creature of the + fear of death. He ran, stumbling because of the uncertainty of the + darkness, blundered into his guards as they turned to run with him. Haste + was his one desire, to escape this perilous gallery upon which he was + exposed. A third glare came close on its predecessors. With it came a + great shouting across the ways, an answering tumult from the ways. The + red-coats below, he saw, had now almost gained the central passage. Their + countless faces turned towards him, and they shouted. The white fagade + opposite was densely stippled with red. All these wonderful things + concerned him, turned upon him as a pivot. These were the guards of the + Council attempting to recapture him. + </p> + <p> + Lucky it was for him that these shots were the first fired in anger for a + hundred and fifty years. He heard bullets whacking over his head, felt a + splash of molten metal sting his ear, and perceived without looking that + the whole opposite fagade, an unmasked ambuscade of red police, was + crowded and bawling and firing at him. + </p> + <p> + Down went one of his guards before him, and Graham, unable to stop, leapt + the writhing body. + </p> + <p> + In another second he had plunged, unhurt, into a black passage, and + incontinently someone, coming, it may be, in a transverse direction, + blundered violently into him. He was hurling down a staircase in absolute + darkness. He reeled, and was struck again, and came against a wall with + his hands. He was crushed by a weight of struggling bodies, whirled round, + and thrust to the right. A vast pressure pinned him. He could not breathe, + his ribs seemed cracking. He felt a momentary relaxation, and then the + whole mass of people moving together, bore him back towards the great + theatre from which he had so recently come. There were moments when his + feet did not touch the ground. Then he was staggering and shoving. He + heard shouts of “They are coming!” and a muffled cry close to + him. His foot blundered against something soft, he heard a hoarse scream + under foot. He heard shouts of “The Sleeper!” but he was too + confused to speak. He heard the green weapons crackling. For a space he + lost his individual will, became an atom in a panic, blind, unthinking, + mechanical. He thrust and pressed back and writhed in the pressure, kicked + presently against a step, and found himself ascending a slope. And + abruptly the faces all about him leapt out of the black, visible, + ghastly-white and astonished, terrified, perspiring, in a livid glare. One + face, a young man’s, was very near to him, not twenty inches away. + At the time it was but a passing incident of no emotional value, but + afterwards it came back to him in his dreams. For this young man, wedged + upright in the crowd for a time, had been shot and was already dead. + </p> + <p> + A fourth white star must have been lit by the man on the cable. Its light + came glaring in through vast windows and arches and showed Graham that he + was now one of a dense mass of flying black figures pressed back across + the lower area of the great theatre. This time the picture was livid and + fragmentary, slashed and barred with black shadows. He saw that quite near + to him the red guards were fighting their way through the people. He could + not tell whether they saw him. He looked for Lincoln and his guards. He + saw Lincoln near the stage of the theatre surrounded in a crowd of + black-badged revolutionaries, lifted up and staring to and fro as if + seeking him. Graham perceived that he himself was near the opposite edge + of the crowd, that behind him, separated by a barrier, sloped the now + vacant seats of the theatre. A sudden idea came to him, and he began + fighting his way towards the barrier. As he reached it the glare came to + an end. + </p> + <p> + In a moment he had thrown off the great cloak that not only impeded his + movements but made him conspicuous, and had slipped it from his shoulders. + He heard someone trip in its folds. In another he was scaling the barrier + and had dropped into the blackness on the further side. Then feeling his + way he came to the lower end of an ascending gangway. In the darkness the + sound of firing ceased and the roar of feet and voices lulled. Then + suddenly he came to an unexpected step and tripped and fell. As he did so + pools and islands amidst the darkness about him leapt to vivid light + again, the uproar surged louder and the glare of the fifth white star + shone through the vast fenestrations of the theatre walls. + </p> + <p> + He rolled over among some seats, heard a shouting and the whirring rattle + of weapons, struggled up and was knocked back again, perceived that a + number of black-badged men were all about him firing at the reds below, + leaping from seat to seat, crouching among the seats to reload. + Instinctively he crouched amidst the seats, as stray shots ripped the + pneumatic cushions and cut bright slashes on their soft metal frames. + Instinctively he marked the direction of the gangways, the most plausible + way of escape for him so soon as the veil of darkness fell again. + </p> + <p> + A young man in faded blue garments came vaulting over the seats. “Hullo!” + he said, with his flying feet within six inches of the crouching Sleeper’s + face. + </p> + <p> + He stared without any sign of recognition, turned to fire, fired, and + shouting, “To hell with the Council!” was about to fire again. + Then it seemed to Graham that the half of this man’s neck had + vanished. A drop of moisture fell on Graham’s cheek. The green + weapon stopped half raised. For a moment the man stood still with his face + suddenly expressionless, then he began to slant forward. His knees bent. + Man and darkness fell together. At the sound of his fall Graham rose up + and ran for his life until a step down to the gangway tripped him. He + scrambled to his feet, turned up the gangway and ran on. + </p> + <p> + When the sixth star glared he was already close to the yawning throat of a + passage. He ran on the swifter for the light, entered the passage and + turned a corner into absolute night again. He was knocked sideways, rolled + over, and recovered his feet. He found himself one of a crowd of invisible + fugitives pressing in one direction. His one thought now was their thought + also; to escape out of this fighting. He thrust and struck, staggered, + ran, was wedged tightly, lost ground and then was clear again. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes he was running through the darkness along a winding + passage, and then he crossed some wide and open space, passed down a long + incline, and came at last down a flight of steps to a level place. Many + people were shouting, “They are coming! The guards are coming. They + are firing. Get out of the fighting. The guards are firing. It will be + safe in Seventh Way. Along here to Seventh Way!” There were women + and children in the crowd as well as men. + </p> + <p> + The crowd converged on an archway, passed through a short throat and + emerged on a wider space again, lit dimly. The black figures about him + spread out and ran up what seemed in the twilight to be a gigantic series + of steps. He followed. The people dispersed to the right and left.... He + perceived that he was no longer in a crowd. He stopped near the highest + step. Before him, on that level, were groups of seats and a little kiosk. + He went up to this and, stopping in the shadow of its eaves, looked about + him panting. + </p> + <p> + Everything was vague and grey, but he recognised that these great steps + were a series of platforms of the “ways,” now motionless + again. The platform slanted up on either side, and the tall buildings rose + beyond, vast dim ghosts, their inscriptions and advertisements + indistinctly seen, and up through the girders and cables was a faint + interrupted ribbon of pallid sky. A number of people hurried by. From + their shouts and voices, it seemed they were hurrying to join the + fighting. Other less noisy figures flitted timidly among the shadows. + </p> + <p> + From very far away down the street he could hear the sound of a struggle. + But it was evident to him that this was not the street into which the + theatre opened. That former fight, it seemed, had suddenly dropped out of + sound and hearing. And they were fighting for him! + </p> + <p> + For a space he was like a man who pauses in the reading of a vivid book, + and suddenly doubts what he has been taking unquestionably. At that time + he had little mind for details; the whole effect was a huge astonishment. + Oddly enough, while the flight from the Council prison, the great crowd in + the hall, and the attack of the red police upon the swarming people were + clearly present in his mind, it cost him an effort to piece in his + awakening and to revive the meditative interval of the Silent Rooms. At + first his memory leapt these things and took him back to the cascade at + Pentargen quivering in the wind, and all the sombre splendours of the + sunlit Cornish coast. The contrast touched everything with unreality. And + then the gap filled, and he began to comprehend his position. + </p> + <p> + It was no longer absolutely a riddle, as it had been in the Silent Rooms. + At least he had the strange, bare outline now. He was in some way the + owner of the world, and great political parties were fighting to possess + him. On the one hand was the Council, with its red police, set resolutely, + it seemed, on the usurpation of his property and perhaps his murder; on + the other, the revolution that had liberated him, with this unseen “Ostrog” + as its leader. And the whole of this gigantic city was convulsed by their + struggle. Frantic development of his world! “I do not understand,” + he cried. “I do not understand!” + </p> + <p> + He had slipped out between the contending parties into this liberty of the + twilight. What would happen next? What was happening? He figured the + red-clad men as busily hunting him, driving the black-badged + revolutionists before them. + </p> + <p> + At any rate chance had given him a breathing space. He could lurk + unchallenged by the passers-by, and watch the course of things. His eye + followed up the intricate dim immensity of the twilight buildings, and it + came to him as a thing infinitely wonderful, that above there the sun was + rising, and the world was lit and glowing with the old familiar light of + day. In a little while he had recovered his breath. His clothing had + already dried upon him from the snow. + </p> + <p> + He wandered for miles along these twilight ways, speaking to no one, + accosted by no one—a dark figure among dark figures—the + coveted man out of the past, the inestimable unintentional owner of the + world. Wherever there were lights or dense crowds, or exceptional + excitement, he was afraid of recognition, and watched and turned back or + went up and down by the middle stairways, into some transverse system of + ways at a lower or higher level. And though he came on no more fighting, + the whole city stirred with battle. Once he had to run to avoid a marching + multitude of men that swept the street. Everyone abroad seemed involved. + For the most part they were men, and they carried what he judged were + weapons. It seemed as though the struggle was concentrated mainly in the + quarter of the city from which he came. Ever and again a distant roaring, + the remote suggestion of that conflict, reached his ears. Then his caution + and his curiosity struggled together. But his caution prevailed, and he + continued wandering away from the fighting—so far as he could judge. + He went unmolested, unsuspected through the dark. After a time he ceased + to hear even a remote echo of the battle, fewer and fewer people passed + him, until at last the streets became deserted. The frontages of the + buildings grew plain, and harsh; he seemed to have come to a district of + vacant warehouses. Solitude crept upon him—his pace slackened. + </p> + <p> + He became aware of a growing fatigue. At times he would turn aside and sit + down on one of the numerous benches of the upper ways. But a feverish + restlessness, the knowledge of his vital implication in this struggle, + would not let him rest in any place for long. Was the struggle on his + behalf alone? + </p> + <p> + And then in a desolate place came the shock of an earthquake—a + roaring and thundering—a mighty wind of cold air pouring through the + city, the smash of glass, the slip and thud of falling masonry—a + series of gigantic concussions. A mass of glass and ironwork fell from the + remote roofs into the middle gallery, not a hundred yards away from him, + and in the distance were shouts and running. He, too, was startled to an + aimless activity, and ran first one way and then as aimlessly back. + </p> + <p> + A man came running towards him. His self-control returned. “What + have they blown up?” asked the man breathlessly. “That was an + explosion,” and before Graham could speak he had hurried on. + </p> + <p> + The great buildings rose dimly, veiled by a perplexing twilight, albeit + the rivulet of sky above was now bright with day. He noted many strange + features, understanding none at the time; he even spelt out many of the + inscriptions in Phonetic lettering. But what profit is it to decipher a + confusion of odd-looking letters resolving itself, after painful strain of + eye and mind, into “Here is Eadhamite,” or, “Labour + Bureau—Little Side”? Grotesque thought, that all these + cliff-like houses were his! + </p> + <p> + The perversity of his experience came to him vividly. In actual fact he + had made such a leap in time as romancers have imagined again and again. + And that fact realised, he had been prepared. His mind had, as it were, + seated itself for a spectacle. And no spectacle unfolded itself, but a + great vague danger, unsympathetic shadows and veils of darkness. Somewhere + through the labyrinthine obscurity his death sought him. Would he, after + all, be killed before he saw? It might be that even at the next corner his + destruction ambushed. A great desire to see, a great longing to know, + arose in him. + </p> + <p> + He became fearful of corners. It seemed to him that there was safety in + concealment. Where could he hide to be inconspicuous when the lights + returned? At last he sat down upon a seat in a recess on one of the higher + ways, conceiving he was alone there. + </p> + <p> + He squeezed his knuckles into his weary eyes. Suppose when he looked again + he found the dark trough of parallel ways and that intolerable altitude of + edifice gone. Suppose he were to discover the whole story of these last + few days, the awakening, the shouting multitudes, the darkness and the + fighting, a phantasmagoria, a new and more vivid sort of dream. It must be + a dream; it was so inconsecutive, so reasonless. Why were the people + fighting for him? Why should this saner world regard him as Owner and + Master? + </p> + <p> + So he thought, sitting blinded, and then he looked again, half hoping in + spite of his ears to see some familiar aspect of the life of the + nineteenth century, to see, perhaps, the little harbour of Boscastle about + him, the cliffs of Pentargen, or the bedroom of his home. But fact takes + no heed of human hopes. A squad of men with a black banner tramped athwart + the nearer shadows, intent on conflict, and beyond rose that giddy wall of + frontage, vast and dark, with the dim incomprehensible lettering showing + faintly on its face. + </p> + <p> + “It is no dream,” he said, “no dream.” And he + bowed his face upon his hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — THE OLD MAN WHO KNEW EVERYTHING + </h2> + <p> + He was startled by a cough close at hand. + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply, and peering, saw a small, hunched-up figure sitting a + couple of yards off in the shadow of the enclosure. + </p> + <p> + “Have ye any news?” asked the high-pitched wheezy voice of a + very old man. + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated. “None,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I stay here till the lights come again,” said the old man. + “These blue scoundrels are everywhere—everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Graham’s answer was inarticulate assent. He tried to see the old man + but the darkness hid his face. He wanted very much to respond, to talk, + but he did not know how to begin. + </p> + <p> + “Dark and damnable,” said the old man suddenly. “Dark + and damnable. Turned out of my room among all these dangers.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s hard,” ventured Graham. “That’s hard + on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Darkness. An old man lost in the darkness. And all the world gone + mad. War and fighting. The police beaten and rogues abroad. Why don’t + they bring some negroes to protect us? ... No more dark passages for me. I + fell over a dead man.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re safer with company,” said the old man, “if + it’s company of the right sort,” and peered frankly. He rose + suddenly and came towards Graham. + </p> + <p> + Apparently the scrutiny was satisfactory. The old man sat down as if + relieved to be no longer alone. “Eh!” he said, “but this + is a terrible time! War and fighting, and the dead lying there—men, + strong men, dying in the dark. Sons! I have three sons. God knows where + they are to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased. Then repeated quavering: “God knows where they are + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Graham stood revolving a question that should not betray his ignorance. + Again the old man’s voice ended the pause. + </p> + <p> + “This Ostrog will win,” he said. “He will win. And what + the world will be like under him no one can tell. My sons are under the + wind-vanes, all three. One of my daughters-in-law was his mistress for a + while. His mistress! We’re not common people. Though they’ve + sent me to wander to-night and take my chance.... I knew what was going + on. Before most people. But this darkness! And to fall over a dead body + suddenly in the dark!” + </p> + <p> + His wheezy breathing could be heard. + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog!” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “The greatest Boss the world has ever seen,” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + Graham ransacked his mind. “The Council has few friends among the + people,” he hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “Few friends. And poor ones at that. They’ve had their time. + Eh! They should have kept to the clever ones. But twice they held + election. And Ostrog—. And now it has burst out and nothing can stay + it, nothing can stay it. Twice they rejected Ostrog—Ostrog the Boss. + I heard of his rages at the time—he was terrible. Heaven save them! + For nothing on earth can now he has raised the Labour Companies upon them. + No one else would have dared. All the blue canvas armed and marching! He + will go through with it. He will go through.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a little while. “This Sleeper,” he said, and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The senile voice sank to a confidential whisper, the dim, pale face came + close. “The real Sleeper—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Died years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Graham, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Years ago. Died. Years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so!” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “I do. I do say so. He died. This Sleeper who’s woke up—they + changed in the night. A poor, drugged insensible creature. But I mustn’t + tell all I know. I mustn’t tell all I know.” + </p> + <p> + For a little while he muttered inaudibly. His secret was too much for him. + “I don’t know the ones that put him to sleep—that was + before my time—but I know the man who injected the stimulants and + woke him again. It was ten to one—wake or kill. Wake or kill. Ostrog’s + way.” + </p> + <p> + Graham was so astonished at these things that he had to interrupt, to make + the old man repeat his words, to re-question vaguely, before he was sure + of the meaning and folly of what he heard. And his awakening had not been + natural! Was that an old man’s senile superstition, too, or had it + any truth in it? Feeling in the dark corners of his memory, he presently + came on something that might conceivably be an impression of some such + stimulating effect. It dawned upon him that he had happened upon a lucky + encounter, that at last he might learn something of the new age. The old + man wheezed awhile and spat, and then the piping, reminiscent voice + resumed: + </p> + <p> + “The first time they rejected him. I’ve followed it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Rejected whom?” said Graham. “The Sleeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Sleeper? <i>No</i>. Ostrog. He was terrible—terrible! And he + was promised then, promised certainly the next time. Fools they were—not + to be more afraid of him. Now all the city’s his millstone, and such + as we dust ground upon it. Dust ground upon it. Until he set to work—the + workers cut each other’s throats, and murdered a Chinaman or a + Labour policeman at times, and left the rest of us in peace. Dead bodies! + Robbing! Darkness! Such a thing hasn’t been this gross of years. Eh!—but + ‘tis ill on small folks when the great fall out! It’s ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you say—there had not been—what?—for a gross + of years?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + The old man said something about clipping his words, and made him repeat + this a third time. “Fighting and slaying, and weapons in hand, and + fools bawling freedom and the like,” said the old man. “Not in + all my life has there been that. These are like the old days—for + sure—when the Paris people broke out—three gross of years ago. + That’s what I mean hasn’t been. But it’s the world’s + way. It had to come back. I know. I know. This five years Ostrog has been + working, and there has been trouble and trouble, and hunger and threats + and high talk and arms. Blue canvas and murmurs. No one safe. Everything + sliding and slipping. And now here we are! Revolt and fighting, and the + Council come to its end.” + </p> + <p> + “You are rather well-informed on these things,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I hear. It isn’t all Babble Machine with me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Graham, wondering what Babble Machine might be. + “And you are certain this Ostrog—you are certain Ostrog + organised this rebellion and arranged for the waking of the Sleeper? Just + to assert himself—because he was not elected to the Council?” + </p> + <p> + “Everyone knows that, I should think,” said the old man. + “Except—just fools. He meant to be master somehow. In the + Council or not. Everyone who knows anything knows that. And here we are + with dead bodies lying in the dark! Why, where have you been if you haven’t + heard all about the trouble between Ostrog and the Verneys? And what do + you think the troubles are about? The Sleeper? Eh? You think the Sleeper’s + real and woke of his own accord—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m a dull man, older than I look, and forgetful,” said + Graham. “Lots of things that have happened—especially of late + years—. If I was the Sleeper, to tell you the truth, I couldn’t + know less about them.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” said the voice. “Old, are you? You don’t + sound so very old! But it’s not everyone keeps his memory to my time + of life—truly. But these notorious things! But you’re not so + old as me—not nearly so old as me. Well! I ought not to judge other + men by myself, perhaps. I’m young—for so old a man. Maybe you’re + old for so young.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Graham. “And I’ve a queer + history. I know very little. And history! Practically I know no history. + The Sleeper and Julius Caesar are all the same to me. It’s + interesting to hear you talk of these things.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a few things,” said the old man. “I know a thing + or two. But—. Hark!” + </p> + <p> + The two men became silent, listening. There was a heavy thud, a concussion + that made their seat shiver. The passers-by stopped, shouted to one + another. The old man was full of questions; he shouted to a man who passed + near. Graham, emboldened by his example, got up and accosted others. None + knew what had happened. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the seat and found the old man muttering vague + interrogations in an undertone. For a while they said nothing to one + another. + </p> + <p> + The sense of this gigantic struggle, so near and yet so remote, oppressed + Graham’s imagination. Was this old man right, was the report of the + people right, and were the revolutionaries winning? Or were they all in + error, and were the red guards driving all before them? At any time the + flood of warfare might pour into this silent quarter of the city and seize + upon him again. It behoved him to learn all he could while there was time. + He turned suddenly to the old man with a question and left it unsaid. But + his motion moved the old man to speech again. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! but how things work together!” said the old man. “This + Sleeper that all the fools put their trust in! I’ve the whole + history of it—I was always a good one for histories. When I was a + boy—I’m that old—I used to read printed books. You’d + hardly think it. Likely you’ve seen none—they rot and dust so—and + the Sanitary Company burns them to make ashlarite. But they were + convenient in their dirty way. One learnt a lot. These new-fangled Babble + Machines—they don’t seem new-fangled to you, eh?—they’re + easy to hear, easy to forget. But I’ve traced all the Sleeper + business from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “You will scarcely believe it,” said Graham slowly, “I’m + so ignorant—I’ve been so preoccupied in my own little affairs, + my circumstances have been so odd—I know nothing of this Sleeper’s + history. Who was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” said the old man. “I know, I know. He was a poor + nobody, and set on a playful woman, poor soul! And he fell into a trance. + There’s the old things they had, those brown things—silver + photographs—still showing him as he lay, a gross and a half years + ago—a gross and a half of years.” + </p> + <p> + “Set on a playful woman, poor soul,” said Graham softly to + himself, and then aloud, “Yes—well go on.” + </p> + <p> + “You must know he had a cousin named Warming, a solitary man without + children, who made a big fortune speculating in roads—the first + Eadhamite roads. But surely you’ve heard? No? Why? He bought all the + patent rights and made a big company. In those days there were grosses of + grosses of separate businesses and business companies. Grosses of grosses! + His roads killed the railroads—the old things—in two dozen + years; he bought up and Eadhamited the tracks. And because he didn’t + want to break up his great property or let in shareholders, he left it all + to the Sleeper, and put it under a Board of Trustees that he had picked + and trained. He knew then the Sleeper wouldn’t wake, that he would + go on sleeping, sleeping till he died. He knew that quite well! And plump! + a man in the United States, who had lost two sons in a boat accident, + followed that up with another great bequest. His trustees found themselves + with a dozen myriads of lions’-worth or more of property at the very + beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Graham.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I mean—that American’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Isbister.” + </p> + <p> + “Isbister!” cried Graham. “Why, I don’t even know + the name.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said the old man. “Of course not. + People don’t learn much in the schools nowadays. But I know all + about him. He was a rich American who went from England, and he left the + Sleeper even more than Warming. How he made it? That I don’t know. + Something about pictures by machinery. But he made it and left it, and so + the Council had its start. It was just a council of trustees at first.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did it grow?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!—but you’re not up to things. Money attracts money—and + twelve brains are better than one. They played it cleverly. They worked + politics with money, and kept on adding to the money by working currency + and tariffs. They grew—they grew. And for years the twelve trustees + hid the growing of the Sleeper’s estate under double names and + company titles and all that. The Council spread by title deed, mortgage, + share, every political party, every newspaper they bought. If you listen + to the old stories you will see the Council growing and growing. Billions + and billions of lions at last—the Sleeper’s estate. And all + growing out of a whim—out of this Warming’s will, and an + accident to Isbister’s sons. + </p> + <p> + “Men are strange,” said the old man. “The strange thing + to me is how the Council worked together so long. As many as twelve. But + they worked in cliques from the first. And they’ve slipped back. In + my young days speaking of the Council was like an ignorant man speaking of + God. We didn’t think they could do wrong. We didn’t know of + their women and all that! Or else I’ve got wiser. + </p> + <p> + “Men are strange,” said the old man. “Here are you, + young and ignorant, and me—sevendy years old, and I might reasonably + before getting—explaining it all to you short and clear. + </p> + <p> + “Sevendy,” he said, “sevendy, and I hear and see—hear + better than I see. And reason clearly, and keep myself up to all the + happenings of things. Sevendy! + </p> + <p> + “Life is strange. I was twaindy before Ostrog was a baby. I remember + him long before he’d pushed his way to the head of the Wind Vanes + Control. I’ve seen many changes. Eh! I’ve worn the blue. And + at last I’ve come to see this crush and darkness and tumult and dead + men carried by in heaps on the ways. And all his doing! All his doing!” + </p> + <p> + His voice died away in scarcely articulate praises of Ostrog. + </p> + <p> + Graham thought. “Let me see,” he said, “if I have it + right.” + </p> + <p> + He extended a hand and ticked off points upon his fingers. “The + Sleeper has been asleep—” + </p> + <p> + “Changed,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. And meanwhile the Sleeper’s property grew in the + hands of Twelve Trustees, until it swallowed up nearly all the great + ownership of the world. The Twelve Trustees—by virtue of this + property have become masters of the world. Because they are the paying + power—just as the old English Parliament used to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” said the old man. “That’s so—that’s + a good comparison. You’re not so—” + </p> + <p> + “And now this Ostrog—has suddenly revolutionised the world by + waking the Sleeper—whom no one but the superstitious, common people + had ever dreamt would wake again—raising the Sleeper to claim his + property from the Council, after all these years.” + </p> + <p> + The old man endorsed this statement with a cough. “It’s + strange,” he said, “to meet a man who learns these things for + the first time to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Graham, “it’s strange.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been in a Pleasure City?” said the old man. “All + my life I’ve longed—” He laughed. “Even now,” + he said, “I could enjoy a little fun. Enjoy seeing things, anyhow.” + He mumbled a sentence Graham did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “The Sleeper—when did he awake?” said Graham suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Three days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog has him. He escaped from the Council not four hours ago. My + dear sir, where were you at the time? He was in the hall of the markets—where + the fighting has been. All the city was screaming about it. All the Babble + Machines. Everywhere it was shouted. Even the fools who speak for the + Council were admitting it. Everyone was rushing off to see him—everyone + was getting arms. Were you drunk or asleep? And even then! But you’re + joking! Surely you’re pretending. It was to stop the shouting of the + Babble Machines and prevent the people gathering that they turned off the + electricity—and put this damned darkness upon us. Do you mean to say—?” + </p> + <p> + “I had heard the Sleeper was rescued,” said Graham. “But—to + come back a minute. Are you sure Ostrog has him?” + </p> + <p> + “He won’t let him go,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “And the Sleeper. Are you sure he is not genuine? I have never heard—” + </p> + <p> + “So all the fools think. So they think. As if there wasn’t a + thousand things that were never heard. I know Ostrog too well for that. + Did I tell you? In a way I’m a sort of relation of Ostrog’s. A + sort of relation. Through my daughter-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose there’s no chance of this Sleeper asserting + himself. I suppose he’s certain to be a puppet—in Ostrog’s + hands or the Council’s, as soon as the struggle is over.” + </p> + <p> + “In Ostrog’s hands—certainly. Why shouldn’t he be + a puppet? Look at his position. Everything done for him, every pleasure + possible. Why should he want to assert himself?” + </p> + <p> + “What are these Pleasure Cities?” said Graham, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The old man made him repeat the question. When at last he was assured of + Graham’s words, he nudged him violently. “That’s <i>too</i> + much,” said he. “You’re poking fun at an old man. I’ve + been suspecting you know more than you pretend.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do,” said Graham. “But no! why should I go on + acting? No, I do not know what a Pleasure City is.” + </p> + <p> + The old man laughed in an intimate way. + </p> + <p> + “What is more, I do not know how to read your letters, I do not know + what money you use, I do not know what foreign countries there are. I do + not know where I am. I cannot count. I do not know where to get food, nor + drink, nor shelter.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said the old man, “if you had a glass of + drink now, would you put it in your ear or your eye?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to tell me all these things.” + </p> + <p> + “He, he! Well, gentlemen who dress in silk must have their fun.” + A withered hand caressed Graham’s arm for a moment. “Silk. + Well, well! But, all the same, I wish I was the man who was put up as the + Sleeper. He’ll have a fine time of it. All the pomp and pleasure. He’s + a queer looking face. When they used to let anyone go to see him, I’ve + got tickets and been. The image of the real one, as the photographs show + him, this substitute used to be. Yellow. But he’ll get fed up. It’s + a queer world. Think of the luck of it. The luck of it. I expect he’ll + be sent to Capri. It’s the best fun for a greener.” + </p> + <p> + His cough overtook him again. Then he began mumbling enviously of + pleasures and strange delights. “The luck of it, the luck of it! All + my life I’ve been in London, hoping to get my chance.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know that the Sleeper died,” said Graham, + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The old man made him repeat his words. + </p> + <p> + “Men don’t live beyond ten dozen. It’s not in the order + of things,” said the old man. “I’m not a fool. Fools may + believe it, but not me.” + </p> + <p> + Graham became angry with the old man’s assurance. “Whether you + are a fool or not,” he said, “it happens you are wrong about + the Sleeper.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong about the Sleeper. I haven’t told you before, + but I will tell you now. You are wrong about the Sleeper.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? I thought you didn’t know anything—not + even about Pleasure Cities.” + </p> + <p> + Graham paused. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know,” said the old man. “How are you + to know? It’s very few men—” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> the Sleeper.” + </p> + <p> + He had to repeat it. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief pause. “There’s a silly thing to say, sir, + if you’ll excuse me. It might get you into trouble in a time like + this,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + Graham, slightly dashed, repeated his assertion. + </p> + <p> + “I was saying I was the Sleeper. That years and years ago I did, + indeed, fall asleep, in a little stone-built village, in the days when + there were hedgerows, and villages, and inns, and all the countryside cut + up into little pieces, little fields. Have you never heard of those days? + And it is I—I who speak to you—who awakened again these four + days since.” + </p> + <p> + “Four days since!—the Sleeper! But they’ve <i>got</i> + the Sleeper. They have him and they won’t let him go. Nonsense! You’ve + been talking sensibly enough up to now. I can see it as though I was + there. There will be Lincoln like a keeper just behind him; they won’t + let him go about alone. Trust them. You’re a queer fellow. One of + these fun pokers. I see now why you have been clipping your words so + oddly, but—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly, and Graham could see his gesture. + </p> + <p> + “As if Ostrog would let the Sleeper run about alone! No, you’re + telling that to the wrong man altogether. Eh! as if I should believe. What’s + your game? And besides, we’ve been talking of the Sleeper.” + </p> + <p> + Graham stood up. “Listen,” he said. “I am the Sleeper.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re an odd man,” said the old man, “to sit + here in the dark, talking clipped, and telling a lie of that sort. But—” + </p> + <p> + Graham’s exasperation fell to laughter. “It is preposterous,” + he cried. “Preposterous. The dream must end. It gets wilder and + wilder. Here am I—in this damned twilight—I never knew a dream + in twilight before—an anachronism by two hundred years and trying to + persuade an old fool that I am myself, and meanwhile—Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + He moved in gusty irritation and went striding. In a moment the old man + was pursuing him. “Eh! but don’t go!” cried the old man. + “I’m an old fool, I know. Don’t go. Don’t leave me + in all this darkness.” + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated, stopped. Suddenly the folly of telling his secret + flashed into his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t mean to offend you—disbelieving you,” + said the old man coming near. “It’s no manner of harm. Call + yourself the Sleeper if it pleases you. ‘Tis a foolish trick—” + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated, turned abruptly and went on his way. + </p> + <p> + For a time he heard the old man’s hobbling pursuit and his wheezy + cries receding. But at last the darkness swallowed him, and Graham saw him + no more. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — OSTROG + </h2> + <p> + Graham could now take a clearer view of his position. For a long time yet + he wandered, but after the talk of the old man his discovery of this + Ostrog was clear in his mind as the final inevitable decision. One thing + was evident, those who were at the headquarters of the revolt had + succeeded very admirably in suppressing the fact of his disappearance. But + every moment he expected to hear the report of his death or of his + recapture by the Council. + </p> + <p> + Presently a man stopped before him. “Have you heard?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Graham, starting. + </p> + <p> + “Near a dozand,” said the man, “a dozand men!” and + hurried on. + </p> + <p> + A number of men and a girl passed in the darkness, gesticulating and + shouting: “Capitulated! Given up!” “A dozand of men.” + “Two dozand of men.” “Ostrog, Hurrah! Ostrog, Hurrah!” + These cries receded, became indistinct. + </p> + <p> + Other shouting men followed. For a time his attention was absorbed in the + fragments of speech he heard. He had a doubt whether all were speaking + English. Scraps floated to him, scraps like Pigeon English, like “nigger” + dialect, blurred and mangled distortions. He dared accost no one with + questions. The impression the people gave him jarred altogether with his + preconceptions of the struggle and confirmed the old man’s faith in + Ostrog. It was only slowly he could bring himself to believe that all + these people were rejoicing at the defeat of the Council, that the Council + which had pursued him with such power and vigour was after all the weaker + of the two sides in conflict. And if that was so, how did it affect him? + Several times he hesitated on the verge of fundamental questions. Once he + turned and walked for a long way after a little man of rotund inviting + outline, but he was unable to master confidence to address him. + </p> + <p> + It was only slowly that it came to him that he might ask for the “wind-vane + offices” whatever the “wind-vane offices” might be. His + first enquiry simply resulted in a direction to go on towards Westminster. + His second led to the discovery of a short cut in which he was speedily + lost. He was told to leave the ways to which he had hitherto confined + himself—knowing no other means of transit—and to plunge down + one of the middle staircases into the blackness of a cross-way. Thereupon + came some trivial adventures; chief of these an ambiguous encounter with a + gruff-voiced invisible creature speaking in a strange dialect that seemed + at first a strange tongue, a thick flow of speech with the drifting + corpses of English Words therein, the dialect of the latter-day vile. Then + another voice drew near, a girl’s voice singing, “tralala + tralala.” She spoke to Graham, her English touched with something of + the same quality. She professed to have lost her sister, she blundered + needlessly into him he thought, caught hold of him and laughed. But a word + of vague remonstrance sent her into the unseen again. + </p> + <p> + The sounds about him increased. Stumbling people passed him, speaking + excitedly. “They have surrendered!” “The Council! Surely + not the Council!” “They are saying so in the Ways.” The + passage seemed wider. Suddenly the wall fell away. He was in a great space + and people were stirring remotely. He inquired his way of an indistinct + figure. “Strike straight across,” said a woman’s voice. + He left his guiding wall, and in a moment had stumbled against a little + table on which were utensils of glass. Graham’s eyes, now attuned to + darkness, made out a long vista with tables on either side. He went down + this. At one or two of the tables he heard a clang of glass and a sound of + eating. There were people then cool enough to dine, or daring enough to + steal a meal in spite of social convulsion and darkness. Far off and high + up he presently saw a pallid light of a semi-circular shape. As he + approached this, a black edge came up and hid it. He stumbled at steps and + found himself in a gallery. He heard a sobbing, and found two scared + little girls crouched by a railing. These children became silent at the + near sound of feet. He tried to console them, but they were very still + until he left them. Then as he receded he could hear them sobbing again. + </p> + <p> + Presently he found himself at the foot of a staircase and near a wide + opening. He saw a dim twilight above this and ascended out of the + blackness into a street of moving ways again. Along this a disorderly + swarm of people marched shouting. They were singing snatches of the song + of the revolt, most of them out of tune. Here and there torches flared + creating brief hysterical shadows. He asked his way and was twice puzzled + by that same thick dialect. His third attempt won an answer he could + understand. He was two miles from the wind-vane offices in Westminster, + but the way was easy to follow. + </p> + <p> + When at last he did approach the district of the wind-vane offices it + seemed to him, from the cheering processions that came marching along the + Ways, from the tumult of rejoicing, and finally from the restoration of + the lighting of the city, that the overthrow of the Council must already + be accomplished. And still no news of his absence came to his ears. + </p> + <p> + The re-illumination of the city came with startling abruptness. Suddenly + he stood blinking, all about him men halted dazzled, and the world was + incandescent. The light found him already upon the outskirts of the + excited crowds that choked the ways near the wind-vane offices, and the + sense of visibility and exposure that came with it turned his colourless + intention of joining Ostrog to a keen anxiety. + </p> + <p> + For a time he was jostled, obstructed, and endangered by men hoarse and + weary with cheering his name, some of them bandaged and bloody in his + cause. The frontage of the wind-vane offices was illuminated by some + moving picture, but what it was he could not see, because in spite of his + strenuous attempts the density of the crowd prevented his approaching it. + From the fragments of speech he caught, he judged it conveyed news of the + fighting about the Council House. Ignorance and indecision made him slow + and ineffective in his movements. For a time he could not conceive how he + was to get within the unbroken fagade of this place. He made his way + slowly into the midst of this mass of people, until he realised that the + descending staircase of the central way led to the interior of the + buildings. This gave him a goal, but the crowding in the central path was + so dense that it was long before he could reach it. And even then he + encountered intricate obstruction, and had an hour of vivid argument first + in this guard room and then in that before he could get a note taken to + the one man of all men who was most eager to see him. His story was + laughed to scorn at one place, and wiser for that, when at last he reached + a second stairway he professed simply to have news of extraordinary + importance for Ostrog. What it was he would not say. They sent his note + reluctantly. For a long time he waited in a little room at the foot of the + lift shaft, and thither at last came Lincoln, eager, apologetic, + astonished. He stopped in the doorway scrutinising Graham, then rushed + forward effusively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he cried. “It is you. And you are not dead!” + </p> + <p> + Graham made a brief explanation. + </p> + <p> + “My brother is waiting,” explained Lincoln. “He is alone + in the wind-vane offices. We feared you had been killed in the theatre. He + doubted—and things are very urgent still in spite of what we are + telling them <i>there</i>—or he would have come to you.” + </p> + <p> + They ascended a lift, passed along a narrow passage, crossed a great hall, + empty save for two hurrying messengers, and entered a comparatively little + room, whose only furniture was a long settee and a large oval disc of + cloudy, shifting grey, hung by cables from the wall. There Lincoln left + Graham for a space, and he remained alone without understanding the smoky + shapes that drove slowly across this disc. + </p> + <p> + His attention was arrested by a sound that began abruptly. It was + cheering, the frantic cheering of a vast but very remote crowd, a roaring + exultation. This ended as sharply as it had begun, like a sound heard + between the opening and shutting of a door. In the outer room was a noise + of hurrying steps and a melodious clinking as if a loose chain was running + over the teeth of a wheel. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard the voice of a woman, the rustle of unseen garments. “It + is Ostrog!” he heard her say. A little bell rang fitfully, and then + everything was still again. + </p> + <p> + Presently came voices, footsteps and movement without. The footsteps of + some one person detached itself from the other sounds, and drew near, + firm, evenly measured steps. The curtain lifted slowly. A tall, + white-haired man, clad in garments of cream-coloured silk, appeared, + regarding Graham from under his raised arm. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the white form remained holding the curtain, then dropped it + and stood before it. Graham’s first impression was of a very broad + forehead, very pale blue eyes deep sunken under white brows, an aquiline + nose, and a heavily-lined resolute mouth. The folds of flesh over the + eyes, the drooping of the corners of the mouth contradicted the upright + bearing, and said the man was old. Graham rose to his feet instinctively, + and for a moment the two men stood in silence, regarding each other. + </p> + <p> + “You are Ostrog?” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “I am Ostrog.” + </p> + <p> + “The Boss?” + </p> + <p> + “So I am called.” + </p> + <p> + Graham felt the inconvenience of the silence. “I have to thank you + chiefly, I understand, for my safety,” he said presently. + </p> + <p> + “We were afraid you were killed,” said Ostrog. “Or sent + to sleep again—for ever. We have been doing everything to keep our + secret—the secret of your disappearance. Where have you been? How + did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + Graham told him briefly. + </p> + <p> + Ostrog listened in silence. + </p> + <p> + He smiled faintly. “Do you know what I was doing when they came to + tell me you had come?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I guess?” + </p> + <p> + “Preparing your double.” + </p> + <p> + “My double?” + </p> + <p> + “A man as like you as we could find. We were going to hypnotise him, + to save him the difficulty of acting. It was imperative. The whole of this + revolt depends on the idea that you are awake, alive, and with us. Even + now a great multitude of people has gathered in the theatre clamouring to + see you. They do not trust.... You know, of course—something of your + position?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “It is like this.” Ostrog walked a pace or two into the room + and turned. “You are absolute owner,” he said, “of the + world. You are King of the Earth. Your powers are limited in many + intricate ways, but you are the figure-head, the popular symbol of + government. This White Council, the Council of Trustees as it is called—” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard the vague outline of these things.” + </p> + <p> + “I wondered.” + </p> + <p> + “I came upon a garrulous old man.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.... Our masses—the word comes from your days—you + know, of course, that we still have masses—regard you as our actual + ruler. Just as a great number of people in your days regarded the Crown as + the ruler. They are discontented—the masses all over the earth—with + the rule of your Trustees. For the most part it is the old discontent, the + old quarrel of the common man with his commonness—the misery of work + and discipline and unfitness. But your Trustees have ruled ill. In certain + matters, in the administration of the Labour Companies, for example, they + have been unwise. They have given endless opportunities. Already we of the + popular party were agitating for reforms—when your waking came. + Came! If it had been contrived it could not have come more opportunely.” + He smiled. “The public mind, making no allowance for your years of + quiescence, had already hit on the thought of waking you and appealing to + you, and—Flash!” + </p> + <p> + He indicated the outbreak by a gesture, and Graham moved his head to show + that he understood. + </p> + <p> + “The Council muddled—quarrelled. They always do. They could + not decide what to do with you. You know how they imprisoned you?” + </p> + <p> + “I see. I see. And now—we win?” + </p> + <p> + “We win. Indeed we win. To-night, in five swift hours. Suddenly we + struck everywhere. The wind-vane people, the Labour Company and its + millions, burst the bonds. We got the pull of the aeroplanes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “That was, of course, essential. Or they could have got away. All + the city rose, every third man almost was in it! All the blue, all the + public services, save only just a few aeronauts and about half the red + police. You were rescued, and their own police of the ways—not half + of them could be massed at the Council House—have been broken up, + disarmed or killed. All London is ours—now. Only the Council House + remains. + </p> + <p> + “Half of those who remain to them of the red police were lost in + that foolish attempt to recapture you. They lost their heads when they + lost you. They flung all they had at the theatre. We cut them off from the + Council House there. Truly to-night has been a night of victory. + Everywhere your star has blazed. A day ago—the White Council ruled + as it has ruled for a gross of years, for a century and a half of years, + and then, with only a little whispering, a covert arming here and there, + suddenly—So!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very ignorant,” said Graham. “I suppose—I do + not clearly understand the conditions of this fighting. If you could + explain. Where is the Council? Where is the fight?” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog stepped across the room, something clicked, and suddenly, save for + an oval glow, they were in darkness. For a moment Graham was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + Then he saw that the cloudy grey disc had taken depth and colour, had + assumed the appearance of an oval window looking out upon a strange + unfamiliar scene. + </p> + <p> + At the first glance he was unable to guess what this scene might be. It + was a daylight scene, the daylight of a wintry day, grey and clear. Across + the picture, and halfway as it seemed between him and the remoter view, a + stout cable of twisted white wire stretched vertically. Then he perceived + that the rows of great wind-wheels he saw, the wide intervals, the + occasional gulfs of darkness, were akin to those through which he had fled + from the Council House. He distinguished an orderly file of red figures + marching across an open space between files of men in black, and realised + before Ostrog spoke that he was looking down on the upper surface of + latter-day London. The overnight snows had gone. He judged that this + mirror was some modern replacement of the camera obscura, but that matter + was not explained to him. He saw that though the file of red figures was + trotting from left to right, yet they were passing out of the picture to + the left. He wondered momentarily, and then saw that the picture was + passing slowly, panorama fashion, across the oval. + </p> + <p> + “In a moment you will see the fighting,” said Ostrog at his + elbow. “Those fellows in red you notice are prisoners. This is the + roof space of London—all the houses are practically continuous now. + The streets and public squares are covered in. The gaps and chasms of your + time have disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + Something out of focus obliterated half the picture. Its form suggested a + man. There was a gleam of metal, a flash, something that swept across the + oval, as the eyelid of a bird sweeps across its eye, and the picture was + clear again. And now Graham beheld men running down among the wind-wheels, + pointing weapons from which jetted out little smoky flashes. They swarmed + thicker and thicker to the right, gesticulating—it might be they + were shouting, but of that the picture told nothing. They and the + wind-wheels passed slowly and steadily across the field of the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Ostrog, “comes the Council House,” and + slowly a black edge crept into view and gathered Graham’s attention. + Soon it was no longer an edge but a cavity, a huge blackened space amidst + the clustering edifices, and from it thin spires of smoke rose into the + pallid winter sky. Gaunt ruinous masses of the building, mighty truncated + piers and girders, rose dismally out of this cavernous darkness. And over + these vestiges of some splendid place, countless minute men were + clambering, leaping, swarming. + </p> + <p> + “This is the Council House,” said Ostrog. “Their last + stronghold. And the fools wasted enough ammunition to hold out for a month + in blowing up the buildings all about them—to stop our attack. You + heard the smash? It shattered half the brittle glass in the city.” + </p> + <p> + And while he spoke, Graham saw that beyond this area of ruins, overhanging + it and rising to a great height, was a ragged mass of white building. This + mass had been isolated by the ruthless destruction of its surroundings. + Black gaps marked the passages the disaster had torn apart; big halls had + been slashed open and the decoration of their interiors showed dismally in + the wintry dawn, and down the jagged walls hung festoons of divided cables + and twisted ends of lines and metallic rods. And amidst all the vast + details moved little red specks, the red-clothed defenders of the Council. + Every now and then faint flashes illuminated the bleak shadows. At the + first sight it seemed to Graham that an attack upon this isolated white + building was in progress, but then he perceived that the party of the + revolt was not advancing, but sheltered amidst the colossal wreckage that + encircled this last ragged stronghold of the red-garbed men, was keeping + up a fitful firing. + </p> + <p> + And not ten hours ago he had stood beneath the ventilating fans in a + little chamber within that remote building wondering what was happening in + the world! + </p> + <p> + Looking more attentively as this warlike episode moved silently across the + centre of the mirror, Graham saw that the white building was surrounded on + every side by ruins, and Ostrog proceeded to describe in concise phrases + how its defenders had sought by such destruction to isolate themselves + from a storm. He spoke of the loss of men that huge downfall had entailed + in an indifferent tone. He indicated an improvised mortuary among the + wreckage, showed ambulances swarming like cheese-mites along a ruinous + groove that had once been a street of moving ways. He was more interested + in pointing out the parts of the Council House, the distribution of the + besiegers. In a little while the civil contest that had convulsed London + was no longer a mystery to Graham. It was no tumultuous revolt had + occurred that night, no equal warfare, but a splendidly organised <i>coup + d'itat</i>. Ostrog’s grasp of details was astonishing; he seemed to + know the business of even the smallest knot of black and red specks that + crawled amidst these places. + </p> + <p> + He stretched a huge black arm across the luminous picture, and showed the + room whence Graham had escaped, and across the chasm of ruins the course + of his flight. Graham recognised the gulf across which the gutter ran, and + the wind-wheels where he had crouched from the flying machine. The rest of + his path had succumbed to the explosion. He looked again at the Council + House, and it was already half hidden, and on the right a hillside with a + cluster of domes and pinnacles, hazy, dim and distant, was gliding into + view. + </p> + <p> + “And the Council is really overthrown?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Overthrown,” said Ostrog. + </p> + <p> + “And I—. Is it indeed true that I—?” + </p> + <p> + “You are Master of the World.” + </p> + <p> + “But that white flag—” + </p> + <p> + “That is the flag of the Council—the flag of the Rule of the + World. It will fall. The fight is over. Their attack on the theatre was + their last frantic struggle. They have only a thousand men or so, and some + of these men will be disloyal. They have little ammunition. And we are + reviving the ancient arts. We are casting guns.” + </p> + <p> + “But—help. Is this city the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Practically this is all they have left to them of their empire. + Abroad the cities have either revolted with us or wait the issue. Your + awakening has perplexed them, paralysed them.” + </p> + <p> + “But haven’t the Council flying machines? Why is there no + fighting with them?” + </p> + <p> + “They had. But the greater part of the aeronauts were in the revolt + with us. They wouldn’t take the risk of fighting on our side, but + they would not stir against us. We <i>had</i> to get a pull with the + aeronauts. Quite half were with us, and the others knew it. Directly they + knew you had got away, those looking for you dropped. We killed the man + who shot at you—an hour ago. And we occupied the flying stages at + the outset in every city we could, and so stopped and captured the greater + aeroplanes, and as for the little flying machines that turned out—for + some did—we kept up too straight and steady a fire for them to get + near the Council House. If they dropped they couldn’t rise again, + because there’s no clear space about there for them to get up. + Several we have smashed, several others have dropped and surrendered, the + rest have gone off to the Continent to find a friendly city if they can + before their fuel runs out. Most of these men were only too glad to be + taken prisoner and kept out of harm’s way. Upsetting in a flying + machine isn’t a very attractive prospect. There’s no chance + for the Council that way. Its days are done.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and turned to the oval reflection again to show Graham what he + meant by flying stages. Even the four nearer ones were remote and obscured + by a thin morning haze. But Graham could perceive they were very vast + structures, judged even by the standard of the things about them. + </p> + <p> + And then as these dim shapes passed to the left there came again the sight + of the expanse across which the disarmed men in red had been marching. And + then the black ruins, and then again the beleaguered white fastness of the + Council. It appeared no longer a ghostly pile, but glowing amber in the + sunlight, for a cloud shadow had passed. About it the pigmy struggle still + hung in suspense, but now the red defenders were no longer firing. + </p> + <p> + So, in a dusky stillness, the man from the nineteenth century saw the + closing scene of the great revolt, the forcible establishment of his rule. + With a quality of startling discovery it came to him that this was his + world, and not that other he had left behind; that this was no spectacle + to culminate and cease; that in this world lay whatever life was still + before him, lay all his duties and dangers and responsibilities. He turned + with fresh questions. Ostrog began to answer them, and then broke off + abruptly. “But these things I must explain more fully later. At + present there are—duties. The people are coming by the moving ways + towards this ward from every part of the city—the markets and + theatres are densely crowded. You are just in time for them. They are + clamouring to see you. And abroad they want to see you. Paris, New York, + Chicago, Denver, Capri—thousands of cities are up and in a tumult, + undecided, and clamouring to see you. They have clamoured that you should + be awakened for years, and now it is done they will scarcely believe—” + </p> + <p> + “But surely—I can’t go ...” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog answered from the other side of the room, and the picture on the + oval disc paled and vanished as the light jerked back again. “There + are kineto-telephoto-graphs,” he said. “As you bow to the + people here—all over the world myriads of myriads of people, packed + and still in darkened halls, will see you also. In black and white, of + course—not like this. And you will hear their shouts reinforcing the + shouting in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “And there is an optical contrivance we shall use,” said + Ostrog, “used by some of the posturers and women dancers. It may be + novel to you. You stand in a very bright light, and they see not you but a + magnified image of you thrown on a screen—so that even the + furtherest man in the remotest gallery can, if he chooses, count your + eyelashes.” + </p> + <p> + Graham clutched desperately at one of the questions in his mind. “What + is the population of London?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Eight and twaindy myriads.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight and what?” + </p> + <p> + “More than thirty-three millions.” + </p> + <p> + These figures went beyond Graham’s imagination. + </p> + <p> + “You will be expected to say something,” said Ostrog. “Not + what you used to call a Speech, but what our people call a word—just + one sentence, six or seven words. Something formal. If I might suggest—‘I + have awakened and my heart is with you.’ That is the sort of thing + they want.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am awakened and my heart is with you.’ And bow—bow + royally. But first we must get you black robes—for black is your + colour. Do you mind? And then they will disperse to their homes.” + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated. “I am in your hands,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Ostrog was clearly of that opinion. He thought for a moment, turned to the + curtain and called brief directions to some unseen attendants. Almost + immediately a black robe, the very fellow of the black robe Graham had + worn in the theatre, was brought. And as he threw it about his shoulders + there came from the room without the shrilling of a high-pitched bell. + Ostrog turned in interrogation to the attendant, then suddenly seemed to + change his mind, pulled the curtain aside and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Graham stood with the deferential attendant listening to + Ostrog’s retreating steps. There was a sound of quick question and + answer and of men running. The curtain was snatched back and Ostrog + reappeared, his massive face glowing with excitement. He crossed the room + in a stride, clicked the room into darkness, gripped Graham’s arm + and pointed to the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Even as we turned away,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Graham saw his index finger, black and colossal, above the mirrored + Council House. For a moment he did not understand. And then he perceived + that the flagstaff that had carried the white banner was bare. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “The Council has surrendered. Its rule is at an end for evermore.” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” and Ostrog pointed to a coil of black that crept in + little jerks up the vacant flagstaff, unfolding as it rose. + </p> + <p> + The oval picture paled as Lincoln pulled the curtain aside and entered. + </p> + <p> + “They are clamorous,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Ostrog kept his grip of Graham’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “We have raised the people,” he said. “We have given + them arms. For to-day at least their wishes must be law.” + </p> + <p> + Lincoln held the curtain open for Graham and Ostrog to pass through.... + </p> + <p> + On his way to the markets Graham had a transitory glance of a long narrow + white-walled room in which men in the universal blue canvas were carrying + covered things like biers, and about which men in medical purple hurried + to and fro. From this room came groans and wailing. He had an impression + of an empty blood-stained couch, of men on other couches, bandaged and + blood-stained. It was just a glimpse from a railed footway and then a + buttress hid the place and they were going on towards the markets.... + </p> + <p> + The roar of the multitude was near now: it leapt to thunder. And, + arresting his attention, a fluttering of black banners, the waving of blue + canvas and brown rags, and the swarming vastness of the theatre near the + public markets came into view down a long passage. The picture opened out. + He perceived they were entering the great theatre of his first appearance, + the great theatre he had last seen as a chequer-work of glare and + blackness in his flight from the red police. This time he entered it along + a gallery at a level high above the stage. The place was now brilliantly + lit again. His eyes sought the gangway up which he had fled, but he could + not tell it from among its dozens of fellows; nor could he see anything of + the smashed seats, deflated cushions, and such like traces of the fight + because of the density of the people. Except the stage the whole place was + closely packed. Looking down the effect was a vast area of stippled pink, + each dot a still upturned face regarding him. At his appearance with + Ostrog the cheering died away, the singing died away, a common interest + stilled and unified the disorder. It seemed as though every individual of + those myriads was watching him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — THE END OF THE OLD ORDER + </h2> + <p> + So far as Graham was able to judge, it was near midday when the white + banner of the Council fell. But some hours had to elapse before it was + possible to effect the formal capitulation, and so after he had spoken his + “Word” he retired to his new apartments in the wind-vane + offices. The continuous excitement of the last twelve hours had left him + inordinately fatigued, even his curiosity was exhausted; for a space he + sat inert and passive with open eyes, and for a space he slept. He was + roused by two medical attendants, come prepared with stimulants to sustain + him through the next occasion. After he had taken their drugs and bathed + by their advice in cold water, he felt a rapid return of interest and + energy, and was presently able and willing to accompany Ostrog through + several miles (as it seemed) of passages, lifts, and slides to the closing + scene of the White Council’s rule. + </p> + <p> + The way ran deviously through a maze of buildings. They came at last to a + passage that curved about, and showed broadening before him an oblong + opening, clouds hot with sunset, and the ragged skyline of the ruinous + Council House. A tumult of shouts came drifting up to him. In another + moment they had come out high up on the brow of the cliff of torn + buildings that overhung the wreckage. The vast area opened to Graham’s + eyes, none the less strange and wonderful for the remote view he had had + of it in the oval mirror. + </p> + <p> + This rudely amphitheatral space seemed now the better part of a mile to + its outer edge. It was gold lit on the left hand, catching the sunlight, + and below and to the right clear and cold in the shadow. Above the shadowy + grey Council House that stood in the midst of it, the great black banner + of the surrender still hung in sluggish folds against the blazing sunset. + Severed rooms, halls and passages gaped strangely, broken masses of metal + projected dismally from the complex wreckage, vast masses of twisted cable + dropped like tangled seaweed, and from its base came a tumult of + innumerable voices, violent concussions, and the sound of trumpets. All + about this great white pile was a ring of desolation; the smashed and + blackened masses, the gaunt foundations and ruinous lumber of the fabric + that had been destroyed by the Council’s orders, skeletons of + girders, Titanic masses of wall, forests of stout pillars. Amongst the + sombre wreckage beneath, running water flashed and glistened, and far away + across the space, out of the midst of a vague vast mass of buildings, + there thrust the twisted end of a water-main, two hundred feet in the air, + thunderously spouting a shining cascade. And everywhere great multitudes + of people. + </p> + <p> + Wherever there was space and foothold, people swarmed, little people, + small and minutely clear, except where the sunset touched them to + indistinguishable gold. They clambered up the tottering walls, they clung + in wreaths and groups about the high-standing pillars. They swarmed along + the edges of the circle of ruins. The air was full of their shouting, and + they were pressing and swaying towards the central space. + </p> + <p> + The upper storeys of the Council House seemed deserted, not a human being + was visible. Only the drooping banner of the surrender hung heavily + against the light. The dead were within the Council House, or hidden by + the swarming people, or carried away. Graham could see only a few + neglected bodies in gaps and corners of the ruins, and amidst the flowing + water. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let them see you, Sire?” said Ostrog. “They + are very anxious to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated, and then walked forward to where the broken verge of + wall dropped sheer. He stood looking down, a lonely, tall, black figure + against the sky. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly the swarming ruins became aware of him. And as they did so + little bands of black-uniformed men appeared remotely, thrusting through + the crowds towards the Council House. He saw little black heads become + pink, looking at him, saw by that means a wave of recognition sweep across + the space. It occurred to him that he should accord them some recognition. + He held up his arm, then pointed to the Council House and dropped his + hand. The voices below became unanimous, gathered volume, came up to him + as multitudinous wavelets of cheering. + </p> + <p> + The western sky was a pallid bluish green, and Jupiter shone high in the + south, before the capitulation was accomplished. Above was a slow + insensible change, the advance of night serene and beautiful; below was + hurry, excitement, conflicting orders, pauses, spasmodic developments of + organisation, a vast ascending clamour and confusion. Before the Council + came out, toiling perspiring men, directed by a conflict of shouts, + carried forth hundreds of those who had perished in the hand-to-hand + conflict within those long passages and chambers.... + </p> + <p> + Guards in black lined the way that the Council would come, and as far as + the eye could reach into the hazy blue twilight of the ruins, and swarming + now at every possible point in the captured Council House and along the + shattered cliff of its circumadjacent buildings, were innumerable people, + and their voices, even when they were not cheering, were as the soughing + of the sea upon a pebble beach. Ostrog had chosen a huge commanding pile + of crushed and overthrown masonry, and on this a stage of timbers and + metal girders was being hastily constructed. Its essential parts were + complete, but humming and clangorous machinery still glared fitfully in + the shadows beneath this temporary edifice. + </p> + <p> + The stage had a small higher portion on which Graham stood with Ostrog and + Lincoln close beside him, a little in advance of a group of minor + officers. A broader lower stage surrounded this quarter-deck, and on this + were the black-uniformed guards of the revolt armed with the little green + weapons whose very names Graham still did not know. Those standing about + him perceived that his eyes wandered perpetually from the swarming people + in the twilight ruins about him to the darkling mass of the White Council + House, whence the Trustees would presently come, and to the gaunt cliffs + of ruin that encircled him, and so back to the people. The voices of the + crowd swelled to a deafening tumult. + </p> + <p> + He saw the Councillors first afar off in the glare of one of the temporary + lights that marked their path, a little group of white figures in a black + archway. In the Council House they had been in darkness. He watched them + approaching, drawing nearer past first this blazing electric star and then + that; the minatory roar of the crowd over whom their power had lasted for + a hundred and fifty years marched along beside them. As they drew still + nearer their faces came out weary, white, and anxious. He saw them + blinking up through the glare about him and Ostrog. He contrasted their + strange cold looks in the Hall of Atlas.... Presently he could recognise + several of them; the man who had rapped the table at Howard, a burly man + with a red beard, and one delicate-featured, short, dark man with a + peculiarly long skull. He noted that two were whispering together and + looking behind him at Ostrog. Next there came a tall, dark and handsome + man, walking downcast. Abruptly he glanced up, his eyes touched Graham for + a moment, and passed beyond him to Ostrog. The way that had been made for + them was so contrived that they had to march past and curve about before + they came to the sloping path of planks that ascended to the stage where + their surrender was to be made. + </p> + <p> + “The Master, the Master! God and the Master,” shouted the + people. “To hell with the Council!” Graham looked at their + multitudes, receding beyond counting into a shouting haze, and then at + Ostrog beside him, white and steadfast and still. His eye went again to + the little group of White Councillors. And then he looked up at the + familiar quiet stars overhead. The marvellous element in his fate was + suddenly vivid. Could that be his indeed, that little life in his memory + two hundred years gone by—and this as well? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — FROM THE CROW’S NEST + </h2> + <p> + And so after strange delays and through an avenue of doubt and battle, + this man from the nineteenth century came at last to his position at the + head of that complex world. + </p> + <p> + At first when he rose from the long deep sleep that followed his rescue + and the surrender of the Council, he did not recognise his surroundings. + By an effort he gained a clue in his mind, and all that had happened came + back to him, at first with a quality of insincerity like a story heard, + like something read out of a book. And even before his memories were + clear, the exultation of his escape, the wonder of his prominence were + back in his mind. He was owner of the world; Master of the Earth. This new + great age was in the completest sense his. He no longer hoped to discover + his experiences a dream; he became anxious now to convince himself that + they were real. + </p> + <p> + An obsequious valet assisted him to dress under the direction of a + dignified chief attendant, a little man whose face proclaimed him + Japanese, albeit he spoke English like an Englishman. From the latter he + learnt something of the state of affairs. Already the revolution was an + accepted fact; already business was being resumed throughout the city. + Abroad the downfall of the Council had been received for the most part + with delight. Nowhere was the Council popular, and the thousand cities of + Western America, after two hundred years still jealous of New York, + London, and the East, had risen almost unanimously two days before at the + news of Graham’s imprisonment. Paris was fighting within itself. The + rest of the world hung in suspense. + </p> + <p> + While he was breaking his fast, the sound of a telephone bell jetted from + a corner, and his chief attendant called his attention to the voice of + Ostrog making polite enquiries. Graham interrupted his refreshment to + reply. Very shortly Lincoln arrived, and Graham at once expressed a strong + desire to talk to people and to be shown more of the new life that was + opening before him. Lincoln informed him that in three hours’ time a + representative gathering of officials and their wives would be held in the + state apartments of the wind-vane Chief. Graham’s desire to traverse + the ways of the city was, however, at present impossible, because of the + enormous excitement of the people. It was, however, quite possible for him + to take a bird’s-eye view of the city from the crow’s nest of + the wind-vane keeper. To this accordingly Graham was conducted by his + attendant. Lincoln; with a graceful compliment to the attendant, + apologised for not accompanying them, on account of the present pressure + of administrative work. + </p> + <p> + Higher even than the most gigantic, wind-wheels hung this crow’s + nest, a clear thousand feet above the roofs, a little disc-shaped speck on + a spear of metallic filigree, cable stayed. To its summit Graham was drawn + in a little wire-hung cradle. Halfway down the frail-seeming stem was a + light gallery about which hung a cluster of tubes—minute they looked + from above—rotating slowly on the ring of its outer rail. These were + the specula, <i>en rapport</i> with the wind-vane keeper’s mirrors, + in one of which Ostrog had shown him the coming of his rule. His Japanese + attendant ascended before him and they spent nearly an hour asking and + answering questions. + </p> + <p> + It was a day full of the promise and quality of spring. The touch of the + wind warmed. The sky was an intense blue and the vast expanse of London + shone dazzling under the morning sun. The air was clear of smoke and haze, + sweet as the air of a mountain glen. + </p> + <p> + Save for the irregular oval of ruins about the House of the Council and + the black flag of the surrender that fluttered there, the mighty city seen + from above showed few signs of the swift revolution that had, to his + imagination, in one night and one day, changed the destinies of the world. + A multitude of people still swarmed over these ruins, and the huge + openwork stagings in the distance from which started in times of peace the + service of aeroplanes to the various great cities of Europe and America, + were also black with the victors. Across a narrow way of planking raised + on trestles that crossed the ruins a crowd of workmen were busy restoring + the connection between the cables and wires of the Council House and the + rest of the city, preparatory to the transfer thither of Ostrog’s + headquarters from the Wind-Vane buildings. + </p> + <p> + For the rest the luminous expanse was undisturbed. So vast was its + serenity in comparison with the areas of disturbance, that presently + Graham, looking beyond them, could almost forget the thousands of men + lying out of sight in the artificial glare within the quasi-subterranean + labyrinth, dead or dying of the overnight wounds, forget the improvised + wards with the hosts of surgeons, nurses, and bearers feverishly busy, + forget, indeed, all the wonder, consternation and novelty under the + electric lights. Down there in the hidden ways of the anthill he knew that + the revolution triumphed, that black everywhere carried the day, black + favours, black banners, black festoons across the streets. And out here, + under the fresh sunlight, beyond the crater of the fight, as if nothing + had happened to the earth, the forest of wind vanes that had grown from + one or two while the Council had ruled, roared peacefully upon their + incessant duty. + </p> + <p> + Far away, spiked, jagged and indented by the wind vanes, the Surrey Hills + rose blue and faint; to the north and nearer, the sharp contours of + Highgate and Muswell Hill were similarly jagged. And all over the + countryside, he knew, on every crest and hill, where once the hedges had + interlaced, and cottages, churches, inns, and farm houses had nestled + among their trees, wind-wheels similar to those he saw and bearing like + them vast advertisements, gaunt and distinctive symbols of the new age, + cast their whirling shadows and stored incessantly the energy that flowed + away incessantly through all the arteries of the city. And underneath + these wandered the countless flocks and herds of the British Food Trust, + his property, with their lonely guards and keepers. + </p> + <p> + Not a familiar outline anywhere broke the cluster of gigantic shapes + below. St. Paul’s he knew survived, and many of the old buildings in + Westminster, embedded out of sight, arched over and covered in among the + giant growths of this great age. The Thames, too, made no fall and gleam + of silver to break the wilderness of the city; the thirsty water mains + drank up every drop of its waters before they reached the walls. Its bed + and estuary, scoured and sunken, was now a canal of sea water, and a race + of grimy bargemen brought the heavy materials of trade from the Pool + thereby beneath the very feet of the workers. Faint and dim in the + eastward between earth and sky hung the clustering masts of the colossal + shipping in the Pool. For all the heavy traffic, for which there was no + need of haste, came in gigantic sailing ships from the ends of the earth, + and the heavy goods for which there was urgency in mechanical ships of a + smaller swifter sort. + </p> + <p> + And to the south over the hills came vast aqueducts with sea water for the + sewers, and in three separate directions ran pallid lines—the roads, + stippled with moving grey specks. On the first occasion that offered he + was determined to go out and see these roads. That would come after the + flying ship he was presently to try. His attendant officer described them + as a pair of gently curving surfaces a hundred yards wide, each one for + the traffic going in one direction, and made of a substance called + Eadhamite—an artificial substance, so far as he could gather, + resembling toughened glass. Along this shot a strange traffic of narrow + rubber-shod vehicles, great single wheels, two and four wheeled vehicles, + sweeping along at velocities of from one to six miles a minute. Railroads + had vanished; a few embankments remained as rust-crowned trenches here and + there. Some few formed the cores of Eadhamite ways. + </p> + <p> + Among the first things to strike his attention had been the great fleets + of advertisement balloons and kites that receded in irregular vistas + northward and southward along the lines of the aeroplane journeys. No + great aeroplanes were to be seen. Their passages had ceased, and only one + little-seeming monoplane circled high in the blue distance above the + Surrey Hills, an unimpressive soaring speck. + </p> + <p> + A thing Graham had already learnt, and which he found very hard to + imagine, was that nearly all the towns in the country, and almost all the + villages, had disappeared. Here and there only, he understood, some + gigantic hotel-like edifice stood amid square miles of some single + cultivation and preserved the name of a town—as Bournemouth, + Wareham, or Swanage. Yet the officer had speedily convinced him how + inevitable such a change had been. The old order had dotted the country + with farmhouses, and every two or three miles was the ruling landlord’s + estate, and the place of the inn and cobbler, the grocer’s shop and + church—the village. Every eight miles or so was the country town, + where lawyer, corn merchant, wool-stapler, saddler, veterinary surgeon, + doctor, draper, milliner and so forth lived. Every eight miles—simply + because that eight mile marketing journey, four there and back, was as + much as was comfortable for the farmer. But directly the railways came + into play, and after them the light railways, and all the swift new motor + cars that had replaced waggons and horses, and so soon as the high roads + began to be made of wood, and rubber, and Eadhamite, and all sorts of + elastic durable substances—the necessity of having such frequent + market towns disappeared. And the big towns grew. They drew the worker + with the gravitational force of seemingly endless work, the employer with + their suggestion of an infinite ocean of labour. + </p> + <p> + And as the standard of comfort rose, as the complexity of the mechanism of + living increased, life in the country had become more and more costly, or + narrow and impossible. The disappearance of vicar and squire, the + extinction of the general practitioner by the city specialist; had robbed + the village of its last touch of culture. After telephone, kinematograph + and phonograph had replaced newspaper, book, schoolmaster, and letter, to + live outside the range of the electric cables was to live an isolated + savage. In the country were neither means of being clothed nor fed + (according to the refined conceptions of the time), no efficient doctors + for an emergency, no company and no pursuits. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, mechanical appliances in agriculture made one engineer the + equivalent of thirty labourers. So, inverting the condition of the city + clerk in the days when London was scarce inhabitable because of the coaly + foulness of its air, the labourers now came to the city and its life and + delights at night to leave it again in the morning. The city had swallowed + up humanity; man had entered upon a new stage in his development. First + had come the nomad, the hunter, then had followed the agriculturist of the + agricultural state, whose towns and cities and ports were but the + headquarters and markets of the countryside. And now, logical consequence + of an epoch of invention, was this huge new aggregation of men. + </p> + <p> + Such things as these, simple statements of fact though they were to + contemporary men, strained Graham’s imagination to picture. And when + he glanced “over beyond there” at the strange things that + existed on the Continent, it failed him altogether. + </p> + <p> + He had a vision of city beyond city; cities on great plains, cities beside + great rivers, vast cities along the sea margin, cities girdled by snowy + mountains. Over a great part of the earth the English tongue was spoken; + taken together with its Spanish American and Hindoo and Negro and “Pidgin” + dialects, it was the everyday-language of two-thirds of humanity. On the + Continent, save as remote and curious survivals, three other languages + alone held sway—German, which reached to Antioch and Genoa and + jostled Spanish-English at Cadiz; a Gallicised Russian which met the + Indian English in Persia and Kurdistan and the “Pidgin” + English in Pekin; and French still clear and brilliant, the language of + lucidity, which shared the Mediterranean with the Indian English and + German and reached through a negro dialect to the Congo. + </p> + <p> + And everywhere now through the city-set earth, save in the administered + “black belt” territories of the tropics, the same cosmopolitan + social organisation prevailed, and everywhere from Pole to Equator his + property and his responsibilities extended. The whole world was civilised; + the whole world dwelt in cities; the whole world was his property.... + </p> + <p> + Out of the dim south-west, glittering and strange, voluptuous, and in some + way terrible, shone those Pleasure Cities of which the + kinematograph-phonograph and the old man in the street had spoken. Strange + places reminiscent of the legendary Sybaris, cities of art and beauty, + mercenary art and mercenary beauty, sterile wonderful cities of motion and + music, whither repaired all who profited by the fierce, inglorious, + economic struggle that went on in the glaring labyrinth below. + </p> + <p> + Fierce he knew it was. How fierce he could judge from the fact that these + latter-day people referred back to the England of the nineteenth century + as the figure of an idyllic easy-going life. He turned his eyes to the + scene immediately before him again, trying to conceive the big factories + of that intricate maze.... + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — PROMINENT PEOPLE + </h2> + <p> + The state apartments of the Wind Vane Keeper would have astonished Graham + had he entered them fresh from his nineteenth century life, but already he + was growing accustomed to the scale of the new time. He came out through + one of the now familiar sliding panels upon a plateau of landing at the + head of a flight of very broad and gentle steps, with men and women far + more brilliantly dressed than any he had hitherto seen, ascending and + descending. From this position he looked down a vista of subtle and varied + ornament in lustreless white and mauve and purple, spanned by bridges that + seemed wrought of porcelain and filigree, and terminating far off in a + cloudy mystery of perforated screens. + </p> + <p> + Glancing upward, he saw tier above tier of ascending galleries with faces + looking down upon him. The air was full of the babble of innumerable + voices and of a music that descended from above, a gay and exhilarating + music whose source he did not discover. + </p> + <p> + The central aisle was thick with people, but by no means uncomfortably + crowded; altogether that assembly must have numbered many thousands. They + were brilliantly, even fantastically dressed, the men as fancifully as the + women, for the sobering influence of the Puritan conception of dignity + upon masculine dress had long since passed away. The hair of the men, too, + though it was rarely worn long, was commonly curled in a manner that + suggested the barber, and baldness had vanished from the earth. Frizzy + straight-cut masses that would have charmed Rossetti abounded, and one + gentleman, who was pointed out to Graham under the mysterious title of an + “amorist,” wore his hair in two becoming plaits <i>` la</i> + Marguerite. The pigtail was in evidence; it would seem that citizens of + Chinese extraction were no longer ashamed of their race. There was little + uniformity of fashion apparent in the forms of clothing worn. The more + shapely men displayed their symmetry in trunk hose, and here were puffs + and slashes, and there a cloak and there a robe. The fashions of the days + of Leo the Tenth were perhaps the prevailing influence, but the aesthetic + conceptions of the far east were also patent. Masculine embonpoint, which, + in Victorian times, would have been subjected to the buttoned perils, the + ruthless exaggeration of tight-legged tight-armed evening dress, now + formed but the basis of a wealth of dignity and drooping folds. Graceful + slenderness abounded also. To Graham, a typically stiff man from a + typically stiff period, not only did these men seem altogether too + graceful in person, but altogether too expressive in their vividly + expressive faces. They gesticulated, they expressed surprise, interest, + amusement, above all, they expressed the emotions excited in their minds + by the ladies about them with astonishing frankness. Even at the first + glance it was evident that women were in a great majority. + </p> + <p> + The ladies in the company of these gentlemen displayed in dress, bearing + and manner alike, less emphasis and more intricacy. Some affected a + classical simplicity of robing and subtlety of fold, after the fashion of + the First French Empire, and flashed conquering arms and shoulders as + Graham passed. Others had closely-fitting dresses without seam or belt at + the waist, sometimes with long folds falling from the shoulders. The + delightful confidences of evening dress had not been diminished by the + passage of two centuries. + </p> + <p> + Everyone’s movements seemed graceful. Graham remarked to Lincoln + that he saw men as Raphael’s cartoons walking, and Lincoln told him + that the attainment of an appropriate set of gestures was part of every + rich person’s education. The Master’s entry was greeted with a + sort of tittering applause, but these people showed their distinguished + manners by not crowding upon him nor annoying him by any persistent + scrutiny, as he descended the steps towards the floor of the aisle. + </p> + <p> + He had already learnt from Lincoln that these were the leaders of existing + London society; almost every person there that night was either a powerful + official or the immediate connexion of a powerful official. Many had + returned from the European Pleasure Cities expressly to welcome him. The + aeronautic authorities, whose defection had played a part in the overthrow + of the Council only second to Graham’s, were very prominent, and so, + too, was the Wind Vane Control. Amongst others there were several of the + more prominent officers of the Food Department; the controller of the + European Piggeries had a particularly melancholy and interesting + countenance and a daintily cynical manner. A bishop in full canonicals + passed athwart Graham’s vision, conversing with a gentleman dressed + exactly like the traditional Chaucer, including even the laurel wreath. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” he asked almost involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “The Bishop of London,” said Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + “No—the other, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Poet Laureate.” + </p> + <p> + “You still—?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t make poetry, of course. He’s a cousin of + Wotton—one of the Councillors. But he’s one of the Red Rose + Royalists—a delightful club—and they keep up the tradition of + these things.” + </p> + <p> + “Asano told me there was a King.” + </p> + <p> + “The King doesn’t belong. They had to expel him. It’s + the Stuart blood, I suppose; but really—” + </p> + <p> + “Too much?” + </p> + <p> + “Far too much.” + </p> + <p> + Graham did not quite follow all this, but it seemed part of the general + inversion of the new age. He bowed condescendingly to his first + introduction. It was evident that subtle distinctions of class prevailed + even in this assembly, that only to a small proportion of the guests, to + an inner group, did Lincoln consider it appropriate to introduce him. This + first introduction was the Master Aeronaut, a man whose sun-tanned face + contrasted oddly with the delicate complexions about him. Just at present + his critical defection from the Council made him a very important person + indeed. + </p> + <p> + His manner contrasted very favourably, according to Graham’s ideas, + with the general bearing. He offered a few commonplace remarks, assurances + of loyalty and frank inquiries about the Master’s health. His manner + was breezy, his accent lacked the easy staccato of latter-day English. He + made it admirably clear to Graham that he was a bluff “aerial dog”—he + used that phrase—that there was no nonsense about him, that he was a + thoroughly manly fellow and old-fashioned at that, that he didn’t + profess to know much, and that what he did not know was not worth knowing. + He made a curt bow, ostentatiously free from obsequiousness, and passed. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see that type endures,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Phonographs and kinematographs,” said Lincoln, a little + spitefully. “He has studied from the life.” Graham glanced at + the burly form again. It was oddly reminiscent. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact we bought him,” said Lincoln. “Partly. + And partly he was afraid of Ostrog. Everything rested with him.” + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply to introduce the Surveyor-General of the Public Schools. + This person was a willowy figure in a blue-grey academic gown, he beamed + down upon Graham through <i>pince-nez</i> of a Victorian pattern, and + illustrated his remarks by gestures of a beautifully manicured hand. + Graham was immediately interested in this gentleman’s functions, and + asked him a number of singularly direct questions. The Surveyor-General + seemed quietly amused at the Master’s fundamental bluntness. He was + a little vague as to the monopoly of education his Company possessed; it + was done by contract with the syndicate that ran the numerous London + Municipalities, but he waxed enthusiastic over educational progress since + the Victorian times. “We have conquered Cram,” he said, + “completely conquered Cram—there is not an examination left in + the world. Aren’t you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you get the work done?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “We make it attractive—as attractive as possible. And if it + does not attract then—we let it go. We cover an immense field.” + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to details, and they had a lengthy conversation. Graham + learnt that University Extension still existed in a modified form. “There + is a certain type of girl, for example,” said the Surveyor-General, + dilating with a sense of his usefulness, “with a perfect passion for + severe studies—when they are not too difficult you know. We cater + for them by the thousand. At this moment,” he said with a Napoleonic + touch, “nearly five hundred phonographs are lecturing in different + parts of London on the influence exercised by Plato and Swift on the love + affairs of Shelley, Hazlitt, and Burns. And afterwards they write essays + on the lectures, and the names in order of merit are put in conspicuous + places. You see how your little germ has grown? The illiterate + middle-class of your days has quite passed away.” + </p> + <p> + “About the public elementary schools,” said Graham. “Do + you control them?” + </p> + <p> + The Surveyor-General did, “entirely.” Now, Graham, in his + later democratic days, had taken a keen interest in these and his + questioning quickened. Certain casual phrases that had fallen from the old + man with whom he had talked in the darkness recurred to him. The + Surveyor-General, in effect, endorsed the old man’s words. “We + try and make the elementary schools very pleasant for the little children. + They will have to work so soon. Just a few simple principles—obedience—industry.” + </p> + <p> + “You teach them very little?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should we? It only leads to trouble and discontent. We amuse + them. Even as it is—there are troubles—agitations. Where the + labourers get the ideas, one cannot tell. They tell one another. There are + socialistic dreams—anarchy even! Agitators <i>will</i> get to work + among them. I take it—I have always taken it—that my foremost + duty is to fight against popular discontent. Why should people be made + unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Graham thoughtfully. “But there are a + great many things I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Lincoln, who had stood watching Graham’s face throughout the + conversation, intervened. “There are others,” he said in an + undertone. + </p> + <p> + The Surveyor-General of schools gesticulated himself away. “Perhaps,” + said Lincoln, intercepting a casual glance, “you would like to know + some of these ladies?” + </p> + <p> + The daughter of the Manager of the Piggeries was a particularly charming + little person with red hair and animated blue eyes. Lincoln left him + awhile to converse with her, and she displayed herself as quite an + enthusiast for the “dear old days,” as she called them, that + had seen the beginning of his trance. As she talked she smiled, and her + eyes smiled in a manner that demanded reciprocity. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried,” she said, “countless times—to + imagine those old romantic days. And to you—they are memories. How + strange and crowded the world must seem to you! I have seen photographs + and pictures of the past, the little isolated houses built of bricks made + out of burnt mud and all black with soot from your fires, the railway + bridges, the simple advertisements, the solemn savage Puritanical men in + strange black coats and those tall hats of theirs, iron railway trains on + iron bridges overhead, horses and cattle, and even dogs running half wild + about the streets. And suddenly, you have come into this!” + </p> + <p> + “Into this,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Out of your life—out of all that was familiar.” + </p> + <p> + “The old life was not a happy one,” said Graham. “I do + not regret that.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quickly. There was a brief pause. She sighed + encouragingly. “No?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Graham. “It was a little life—and + unmeaning. But this—We thought the world complex and crowded and + civilised enough. Yet I see—although in this world I am barely four + days old—looking back on my own time, that it was a queer, barbaric + time—the mere beginning of this new order. The mere beginning of + this new order. You will find it hard to understand how little I know.” + </p> + <p> + “You may ask me what you like,” she said, smiling at him. + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me who these people are. I’m still very much in the + dark about them. It’s puzzling. Are there any Generals?” + </p> + <p> + “Men in hats and feathers?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. No. I suppose they are the men who control the great + public businesses. Who is that distinguished looking man?” + </p> + <p> + “That? He’s a most important officer. That is Morden. He is + managing director of the Antibilious Pill Department. I have heard that + his workers sometimes turn out a myriad myriad pills a day in the + twenty-four hours. Fancy a myriad myriad!” + </p> + <p> + “A myriad myriad. No wonder he looks proud,” said Graham. + “Pills! What a wonderful time it is! That man in purple?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not quite one of the inner circle, you know. But we like him. + He is really clever and very amusing. He is one of the heads of the + Medical Faculty of our London University. All medical men, you know, wear + that purple. But, of course, people who are paid by fees for <i>doing</i> + something—” She smiled away the social pretensions of all such + people. + </p> + <p> + “Are any of your great artists or authors here?” + </p> + <p> + “No authors. They are mostly such queer people—and so + preoccupied about themselves. And they quarrel so dreadfully! They will + fight, some of them, for precedence on staircases! Dreadful, isn’t + it? But I think Wraysbury, the fashionable capillotomist, is here. From + Capri.” + </p> + <p> + “Capillotomist,” said Graham. “Ah! I remember. An + artist! Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “We have to cultivate him,” she said apologetically. “Our + heads are in his hands.” She smiled. + </p> + <p> + Graham hesitated at the invited compliment, but his glance was expressive. + “Have the arts grown with the rest of civilised things?” he + said. “Who are your great painters?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him doubtfully. Then laughed. “For a moment,” + she said, “I thought you meant—” She laughed again. + “You mean, of course, those good men you used to think so much of + because they could cover great spaces of canvas with oil-colours? Great + oblongs. And people used to put the things in gilt frames and hang them up + in rows in their square rooms. We haven’t any. People grew tired of + that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did you think I meant?” + </p> + <p> + She put a finger significantly on a cheek whose glow was above suspicion, + and smiled and looked very arch and pretty and inviting. “And here,” + and she indicated her eyelid. + </p> + <p> + Graham had an adventurous moment. Then a grotesque memory of a picture he + had somewhere seen of Uncle Toby and the widow flashed across his mind. An + archaic shame came upon him. He became acutely aware that he was visible + to a great number of interested people. “I see,” he remarked + inadequately. He turned awkwardly away from her fascinating facility. He + looked about him to meet a number of eyes that immediately occupied + themselves with other things. Possibly he coloured a little. “Who is + that talking with the lady in saffron?” he asked, avoiding her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The person in question he learnt was one of the great organisers of the + American theatres just fresh from a gigantic production at Mexico. His + face reminded Graham of a bust of Caligula. Another striking looking man + was the Black Labour Master. The phrase at the time made no deep + impression, but afterwards it recurred;—the Black Labour Master? The + little lady in no degree embarrassed, pointed out to him a charming little + woman as one of the subsidiary wives of the Anglican Bishop of London. She + added encomiums on the episcopal courage—hitherto there had been a + rule of clerical monogamy—“neither a natural nor an expedient + condition of things. Why should the natural development of the affections + be dwarfed and restricted because a man is a priest?” + </p> + <p> + “And, bye the bye,” she added, “are you an Anglican?” + Graham was on the verge of hesitating inquiries about the status of a + “subsidiary wife,” apparently an euphemistic phrase, when + Lincoln’s return broke off this very suggestive and interesting + conversation. They crossed the aisle to where a tall man in crimson, and + two charming persons in Burmese costume (as it seemed to him) awaited him + diffidently. From their civilities he passed to other presentations. + </p> + <p> + In a little while his multitudinous impressions began to organise + themselves into a general effect. At first the glitter of the gathering + had raised all the democrat in Graham; he had felt hostile and satirical. + But it is not in human nature to resist an atmosphere of courteous regard. + Soon the music, the light, the play of colours, the shining arms and + shoulders about him, the touch of hands, the transient interest of smiling + faces, the frothing sound of skilfully modulated voices, the atmosphere of + compliment, interest and respect, had woven together into a fabric of + indisputable pleasure. Graham for a time forgot his spacious resolutions. + He gave way insensibly to the intoxication of the position that was + conceded him, his manner became more convincingly regal, his feet walked + assuredly, the black robe fell with a bolder fold and pride ennobled his + voice. After all, this was a brilliant interesting world. + </p> + <p> + He looked up and saw passing across a bridge of porcelain and looking down + upon him, a face that was almost immediately hidden, the face of the girl + he had seen overnight in the little room beyond the theatre after his + escape from the Council. And she was watching him. + </p> + <p> + For the moment he did not remember when he had seen her, and then came a + vague memory of the stirring emotions of their first encounter. But the + dancing web of melody about him kept the air of that great marching song + from his memory. + </p> + <p> + The lady to whom he talked repeated her remark, and Graham recalled + himself to the quasi-regal flirtation upon which he was engaged. + </p> + <p> + Yet, unaccountably, a vague restlessness, a feeling that grew to + dissatisfaction, came into his mind. He was troubled as if by some half + forgotten duty, by the sense of things important slipping from him amidst + this light and brilliance. The attraction that these ladies who crowded + about him were beginning to exercise ceased. He no longer gave vague and + clumsy responses to the subtly amorous advances that he was now assured + were being made to him, and his eyes wandered for another sight of the + girl of the first revolt. + </p> + <p> + Where, precisely, had he seen her?... + </p> + <p> + Graham was in one of the upper galleries in conversation with a + bright-eyed lady on the subject of Eadhamite—the subject was his + choice and not hers. He had interrupted her warm assurances of personal + devotion with a matter-of-fact inquiry. He found her, as he had already + found several other latter-day women that night, less well informed than + charming. Suddenly, struggling against the eddying drift of nearer melody, + the song of the Revolt, the great song he had heard in the Hall, hoarse + and massive, came beating down to him. + </p> + <p> + Ah! Now he remembered! + </p> + <p> + He glanced up startled, and perceived above him an <i>oeil de boeuf</i> + through which this song had come, and beyond, the upper courses of cable, + the blue haze, and the pendant fabric of the lights of the public ways. He + heard the song break into a tumult of voices and cease. He perceived quite + clearly the drone and tumult of the moving platforms and a murmur of many + people. He had a vague persuasion that he could not account for, a sort of + instinctive feeling that outside in the ways a huge crowd must be watching + this place in which their Master amused himself. + </p> + <p> + Though the song had stopped so abruptly, though the special music of this + gathering reasserted itself, the <i>motif</i> of the marching song, once + it had begun, lingered in his mind. + </p> + <p> + The bright-eyed lady was still struggling with the mysteries of Eadhamite + when he perceived the girl he had seen in the theatre again. She was + coming now along the gallery towards him; he saw her first before she saw + him. She was dressed in a faintly luminous grey, her dark hair about her + brows was like a cloud, and as he saw her the cold light from the circular + opening into the ways fell upon her downcast face. + </p> + <p> + The lady in trouble about the Eadhamite saw the change in his expression, + and grasped her opportunity to escape. “Would you care to know that + girl, Sire?” she asked boldly. “She is Helen Wotton—a + niece of Ostrog’s. She knows a great many serious things. She is one + of the most serious persons alive. I am sure you will like her.” + </p> + <p> + In another moment Graham was talking to the girl, and the bright-eyed lady + had fluttered away. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you quite well,” said Graham. “You were in + that little room. When all the people were singing and beating time with + their feet. Before I walked across the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Her momentary embarrassment passed. She looked up at him, and her face was + steady. “It was wonderful,” she said, hesitated, and spoke + with a sudden effort. “All those people would have died for you, + Sire. Countless people did die for you that night.” + </p> + <p> + Her face glowed. She glanced swiftly aside to see that no other heard her + words. + </p> + <p> + Lincoln appeared some way off along the gallery, making his way through + the press towards them. She saw him and turned to Graham strangely eager, + with a swift change to confidence and intimacy. “Sire,” she + said quickly, “I cannot tell you now and here. But the common people + are very unhappy; they are oppressed—they are misgoverned. Do not + forget the people, who faced death—death that you might live.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing—” began Graham. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you now.” + </p> + <p> + Lincoln’s face appeared close to them. He bowed an apology to the + girl. + </p> + <p> + “You find the new world amusing, Sire?” asked Lincoln, with + smiling deference, and indicating the space and splendour of the gathering + by one comprehensive gesture. “At any rate, you find it changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham, “changed. And yet, after all, not so + greatly changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till you are in the air,” said Lincoln. “The wind + has fallen; even now an aeroplane awaits you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s attitude awaited dismissal. + </p> + <p> + Graham glanced at her face, was on the verge of a question, found a + warning in her expression, bowed to her and turned to accompany Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — THE MONOPLANE + </h2> + <p> + The Flying Stages of London were collected together in an irregular + crescent on the southern side of the river. They formed three groups of + two each and retained the names of ancient suburban hills or villages. + They were named in order, Roehampton, Wimbledon Park, Streatham, Norwood, + Blackheath, and Shooter’s Hill. They were uniform structures rising + high above the general roof surfaces. Each was about four thousand yards + long and a thousand broad, and constructed of the compound of aluminum and + iron that had replaced iron in architecture. Their higher tiers formed an + openwork of girders through which lifts and staircases ascended. The upper + surface was a uniform expanse, with portions—the starting carriers—that + could be raised and were then able to run on very slightly inclined rails + to the end of the fabric. + </p> + <p> + Graham went to the flying stages by the public ways. He was accompanied by + Asano, his Japanese attendant. Lincoln was called away by Ostrog, who was + busy with his administrative concerns. A strong guard of the Wind-Vane + police awaited the Master outside the Wind-Vane offices, and they cleared + a space for him on the upper moving platform. His passage to the flying + stages was unexpected, nevertheless a considerable crowd gathered and + followed him to his destination. As he went along, he could hear the + people shouting his name, and saw numberless men and women and children in + blue come swarming up the staircases in the central path, gesticulating + and shouting. He could not hear what they shouted. He was struck again by + the evident existence of a vulgar dialect among the poor of the city. When + at last he descended, his guards were immediately surrounded by a dense + excited crowd. Afterwards it occurred to him that some had attempted to + reach him with petitions. His guards cleared a passage for him with + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + He found a monoplane in charge of an aeronaut awaiting him on the westward + stage. Seen close this mechanism was no longer small. As it lay on its + launching carrier upon the wide expanse of the flying stage, its aluminum + body skeleton was as big as the hull of a twenty-ton yacht. Its lateral + supporting sails braced and stayed with metal nerves almost like the + nerves of a bee’s wing, and made of some sort of glassy artificial + membrane, cast their shadow over many hundreds of square yards. The chairs + for the engineer and his passenger hung free to swing by a complex tackle, + within the protecting ribs of the frame and well abaft the middle. The + passenger’s chair was protected by a wind-guard and guarded about + with metallic rods carrying air cushions. It could, if desired, be + completely closed in, but Graham was anxious for novel experiences, and + desired that it should be left open. The aeronaut sat behind a glass that + sheltered his face. The passenger could secure himself firmly in his seat, + and this was almost unavoidable on landing, or he could move along by + means of a little rail and rod to a locker at the stem of the machine, + where his personal luggage, his wraps and restoratives were placed, and + which also with the seats, served as a makeweight to the parts of the + central engine that projected to the propeller at the stern. + </p> + <p> + The flying stage about him was empty save for Asano and their suite of + attendants. Directed by the aeronaut he placed himself in his seat. Asano + stepped through the bars of the hull, and stood below on the stage waving + his hand. He seemed to slide along the stage to the right and vanish. + </p> + <p> + The engine was humming loudly, the propeller spinning, and for a second + the stage and the buildings beyond were gliding swiftly and horizontally + past Graham’s eye; then these things seemed to tilt up abruptly. He + gripped the little rods on either side of him instinctively. He felt himself + moving upward, heard the air whistle over the top of the wind screen. The + propeller screw moved round with powerful rhythmic impulses—one, + two, three, pause; one, two, three—which the engineer controlled + very delicately. The machine began a quivering vibration that continued + throughout the flight, and the roof areas seemed running away to starboard + very quickly and growing rapidly smaller. He looked from the face of the + engineer through the ribs of the machine. Looking sideways, there was + nothing very startling in what he saw—a rapid funicular railway + might have given the same sensations. He recognised the Council House and + the Highgate Ridge. And then he looked straight down between his feet. + </p> + <p> + For a moment physical terror possessed him, a passionate sense of + insecurity. He held tight. For a second or so he could not lift his eyes. + Some hundred feet or more sheer below him was one of the big wind-vanes of + south-west London, and beyond it the southernmost flying stage crowded + with little black dots. These things seemed to be falling away from him. + For a second he had an impulse to pursue the earth. He set his teeth, he + lifted his eyes by a muscular effort, and the moment of panic passed. + </p> + <p> + He remained for a space with his teeth set hard, his eyes staring into the + sky. Throb, throb, throb—beat, went the engine; throb, throb, throb—beat. + He gripped his bars tightly, glanced at the aeronaut, and saw a smile upon + his sun-tanned face. He smiled in return—perhaps a little + artificially. “A little strange at first,” he shouted before + he recalled his dignity. But he dared not look down again for some time. + He stared over the aeronaut’s head to where a rim of vague blue + horizon crept up the sky. For a little while he could not banish the + thought of possible accidents from his mind. Throb, throb, throb—beat; + suppose some trivial screw went wrong in that supporting engine! Suppose—! + He made a grim effort to dismiss all such suppositions. After a while they + did at least abandon the foreground of his thoughts. And up he went + steadily, higher and higher into the clear air. + </p> + <p> + Once the mental shock of moving unsupported through the air was over, his + sensations ceased to be unpleasant, became very speedily pleasurable. He + had been warned of air sickness. But he found the pulsating movement of + the monoplane as it drove up the faint south-west breeze was very little + in excess of the pitching of a boat head on to broad rollers in a moderate + gale, and he was constitutionally a good sailor. And the keenness of the + more rarefied air into which they ascended produced a sense of lightness + and exhilaration. He looked up and saw the blue sky above fretted with + cirrus clouds. His eye came cautiously down through the ribs and bars to a + shining flight of white birds that hung in the lower sky. For a space he + watched these. Then going lower and less apprehensively, he saw the + slender figure of the Wind-Vane keeper’s crow’s nest shining + golden in the sunlight and growing smaller every moment. As his eye fell + with more confidence now, there came a blue line of hills, and then + London, already to leeward, an intricate space of roofing. Its near edge + came sharp and clear, and banished his last apprehensions in a shock of + surprise. For the boundary of London was like a wall, like a cliff, a + steep fall of three or four hundred feet, a frontage broken only by + terraces here and there, a complex decorative fagade. + </p> + <p> + That gradual passage of town into country through an extensive sponge of + suburbs, which was so characteristic a feature of the great cities of the + nineteenth century, existed no longer. Nothing remained of it here but a + waste of ruins, variegated and dense with thickets of the heterogeneous + growths that had once adorned the gardens of the belt, interspersed among + levelled brown patches of sown ground, and verdant stretches of winter + greens. The latter even spread among the vestiges of houses. But for the + most part the reefs and skerries of ruins, the wreckage of suburban + villas, stood among their streets and roads, queer islands amidst the + levelled expanses of green and brown, abandoned indeed by the inhabitants + years since, but too substantial, it seemed, to be cleared out of the way + of the wholesale horticultural mechanisms of the time. + </p> + <p> + The vegetation of this waste undulated and frothed amidst the countless + cells of crumbling house walls, and broke along the foot of the city wall + in a surf of bramble and holly and ivy and teazle and tall grasses. Here + and there gaudy pleasure palaces towered amidst the puny remains of + Victorian times, and cable ways slanted to them from the city. That winter + day they seemed deserted. Deserted, too, were the artificial gardens among + the ruins. The city limits were indeed as sharply defined as in the + ancient days when the gates were shut at nightfall and the robber foeman + prowled to the very walls. A huge semi-circular throat poured out a + vigorous traffic upon the Eadhamite Bath Road. So the first prospect of + the world beyond the city flashed on Graham, and dwindled. And when at + last he could look vertically downward again, he saw below him the + vegetable fields of the Thames valley—innumerable minute oblongs of + ruddy brown, intersected by shining threads, the sewage ditches. + </p> + <p> + His exhilaration increased rapidly, became a sort of intoxication. He + found himself drawing deep breaths of air, laughing aloud, desiring to + shout. After a time that desire became too strong for him, and he shouted. + They curved about towards the south. They drove with a slight list to + leeward, and with a slow alternation of movement, first a short, sharp + ascent and then a long downward glide that was very swift and pleasing. + During these downward glides the propeller was inactive altogether. These + ascents gave Graham a glorious sense of successful effort; the descents + through the rarefied air were beyond all experience. He wanted never to + leave the upper air again. + </p> + <p> + For a time he was intent upon the landscape that ran swiftly northward + beneath him. Its minute, clear detail pleased him exceedingly. He was + impressed by the ruin of the houses that had once dotted the country, by + the vast treeless expanse of country from which all farms and villages had + gone, save for crumbling ruins. He had known the thing was so, but seeing + it so was an altogether different matter. He tried to make out familiar + places within the hollow basin of the world below, but at first he could + distinguish no data now that the Thames valley was left behind. Soon, + however, they were driving over a sharp chalk hill that he recognised as + the Guildford Hog’s Back, because of the familiar outline of the + gorge at its eastward end, and because of the ruins of the town that rose + steeply on either lip of this gorge. And from that he made out other + points, Leith Hill, the sandy wastes of Aldershot, and so forth. Save + where the broad Eadhamite Portsmouth Road, thickly dotted with rushing + shapes, followed the course of the old railway, the gorge of the wey was + choked with thickets. + </p> + <p> + The whole expanse of the Downs escarpment, so far as the grey haze + permitted him to see, was set with wind-wheels to which the largest of the + city was but a younger brother. They stirred with a stately motion before + the south-west wind. And here and there were patches dotted with the sheep + of the British Food Trust, and here and there a mounted shepherd made a + spot of black. Then rushing under the stern of the monoplane came the + Wealden Heights, the line of Hindhead, Pitch Hill, and Leith Hill, with a + second row of wind-wheels that seemed striving to rob the downland + whirlers of their share of breeze. The purple heather was speckled with + yellow gorse, and on the further side a drove of black oxen stampeded + before a couple of mounted men. Swiftly these swept behind, and dwindled + and lost colour, and became scarce moving specks that were swallowed up in + haze. + </p> + <p> + And when these had vanished in the distance Graham heard a peewit wailing + close at hand. He perceived he was now above the South Downs, and staring + over his shoulder saw the battlements of Portsmouth Landing Stage towering + over the ridge of Portsdown Hill. In another moment there came into sight + a spread of shipping like floating cities, the little white cliffs of the + Needles dwarfed and sunlit, and the grey and glittering waters of the + narrow sea. They seemed to leap the Solent in a moment, and in a few + seconds the Isle of Wight was running past, and then beneath him spread a + wider and wider extent of sea, here purple with the shadow of a cloud, + here grey, here a burnished mirror, and here a spread of cloudy greenish + blue. The Isle of Wight grew smaller and smaller. In a few more minutes a + strip of grey haze detached itself from other strips that were clouds, + descended out of the sky and became a coast-line—sunlit and pleasant—the + coast of northern France. It rose, it took colour, became definite and + detailed, and the counterpart of the Downland of England was speeding by + below. + </p> + <p> + In a little time, as it seemed, Paris came above the horizon, and hung + there for a space, and sank out of sight again as the monoplane circled + about to the north. But he perceived the Eiffel Tower still standing, and + beside it a huge dome surmounted by a pin-point Colossus. And he + perceived, too, though he did not understand it at the time, a slanting + drift of smoke. The aeronaut said something about “trouble in the + under-ways,” that Graham did not heed. But he marked the minarets + and towers and slender masses that streamed skyward above the city + wind-vanes, and knew that in the matter of grace at least Paris still kept + in front of her larger rival. And even as he looked a pale blue shape + ascended very swiftly from the city like a dead leaf driving up before a + gale. It curved round and soared towards them, growing rapidly larger and + larger. The aeronaut was saying something. “What?” said + Graham, loth to take his eyes from this. “London aeroplane, Sire,” + bawled the aeronaut, pointing. + </p> + <p> + They rose and curved about northward as it drew nearer. Nearer it came and + nearer, larger and larger. The throb, throb, throb—beat, of the + monoplane’s flight, that had seemed so potent, and so swift, + suddenly appeared slow by comparison with this tremendous rush. How great + the monster seemed, how swift and steady! It passed quite closely beneath + them, driving along silently, a vast spread of wire-netted translucent + wings, a thing alive. Graham had a momentary glimpse of the rows and rows + of wrapped-up passengers, slung in their little cradles behind + wind-screens, of a white-clothed engineer crawling against the gale along + a ladder way, of spouting engines beating together, of the whirling wind + screw, and of a wide waste of wing. He exulted in the sight. And in an + instant the thing had passed. + </p> + <p> + It rose slightly and their own little wings swayed in the rush of its + flight. It fell and grew smaller. Scarcely had they moved, as it seemed, + before it was again only a flat blue thing that dwindled in the sky. This + was the aeroplane that went to and fro between London and Paris. In fair + weather and in peaceful times it came and went four times a day. + </p> + <p> + They beat across the Channel, slowly as it seemed now to Graham’s + enlarged ideas, and Beachy Head rose greyly to the left of them. + </p> + <p> + “Land,” called the aeronaut, his voice small against the + whistling of the air over the wind-screen. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” bawled Graham, laughing. “Not land yet. I + want to learn more of this machine.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant—” said the aeronaut. + </p> + <p> + “I want to learn more of this machine,” repeated Graham. + </p> + <p> + “I’m coming to you,” he said, and had flung himself free + of his chair and taken a step along the guarded rail between them. He + stopped for a moment, and his colour changed and his hands tightened. + Another step and he was clinging close to the aeronaut. He felt a weight + on his shoulder, the pressure of the air. His hat was a whirling speck + behind. The wind came in gusts over his wind-screen and blew his hair in + streamers past his cheek. The aeronaut made some hasty adjustments for the + shifting of the centres of gravity and pressure. + </p> + <p> + “I want to have these things explained,” said Graham. “What + do you do when you move that engine forward?” + </p> + <p> + The aeronaut hesitated. Then he answered, “They are complex, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind,” shouted Graham. “I don’t + mind.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause. “Aeronautics is the secret—the + privilege—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But I’m the Master, and I mean to know.” He + laughed, full of this novel realisation of power that was his gift from + the upper air. + </p> + <p> + The monoplane curved about, and the keen fresh wind cut across Graham’s + face and his garment lugged at his body as the stem pointed round to the + west. The two men looked into each other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Sire, there are rules—” + </p> + <p> + “Not where I am concerned,” said Graham, “You seem to + forget.” + </p> + <p> + The aeronaut scrutinised his face “No,” he said. “I do + not forget, Sire. But in all the earth—no man who is not a sworn + aeronaut—has ever a chance. They come as passengers—” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard something of the sort. But I’m not going to + argue these points. Do you know why I have slept two hundred years? To + fly!” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” said the aeronaut, “the rules—if I break + the rules—” + </p> + <p> + Graham waved the penalties aside. + </p> + <p> + “Then if you will watch me—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Graham, swaying and gripping tight as the machine + lifted its nose again for an ascent. “That’s not my game. I + want to do it myself. Do it myself if I smash for it! No! I will. See I am + going to clamber by this—to come and share your seat. Steady! I mean + to fly of my own accord if I smash at the end of it. I will have something + to pay for my sleep. Of all other things—. In my past it was my + dream to fly. Now—keep your balance.” + </p> + <p> + “A dozen spies are watching me, Sire!” + </p> + <p> + Graham’s temper was at end. Perhaps he chose it should be. He swore. + He swung himself round the intervening mass of levers and the monoplane + swayed. + </p> + <p> + “Am I Master of the earth?” he said. “Or is your + Society? Now. Take your hands off those levers, and hold my wrists. Yes—so. + And now, how do we turn her nose down to the glide?” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” said the aeronaut. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You will protect me?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! Yes! If I have to burn London. Now!” + </p> + <p> + And with that promise Graham bought his first lesson in aerial navigation. + “It’s clearly to your advantage, this journey,” he said + with a loud laugh—for the air was like strong wine—“to + teach me quickly and well. Do I pull this? Ah! So! Hullo!” + </p> + <p> + “Back, Sire! Back!” + </p> + <p> + “Back—right. One—two—three—good God! Ah! Up + she goes! But this is living!” + </p> + <p> + And now the machine began to dance the strangest figures in the air. Now + it would sweep round a spiral of scarcely a hundred yards diameter, now + rush up into the air and swoop down again, steeply, swiftly, falling like + a hawk, to recover in a rushing loop that swept it high again. In one of + these descents it seemed driving straight at the drifting park of balloons + in the southeast, and only curved about and cleared them by a sudden + recovery of dexterity. The extraordinary swiftness and smoothness of the + motion, the extraordinary effect of the rarefied air upon his + constitution, threw Graham into a careless fury. + </p> + <p> + But at last a queer incident came to sober him, to send him flying down + once more to the crowded life below with all its dark insoluble riddles. + As he swooped, came a tap and something flying past, and a drop like a + drop of rain. Then as he went on down he saw something like a white rag + whirling down in his wake. “What was that?” he asked. “I + did not see.” + </p> + <p> + The aeronaut glanced, and then clutched at the lever to recover, for they + were sweeping down. When the monoplane was rising again he drew a deep + breath and replied, “That,” and he indicated the white thing + still fluttering down, “was a swan.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw it,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + The aeronaut made no answer, and Graham saw little drops upon his + forehead. + </p> + <p> + They drove horizontally while Graham clambered back to the passenger’s + place out of the lash of the wind. And then came a swift rush down, with + the wind-screw whirling to check their fall, and the flying stage growing + broad and dark before them. The sun, sinking over the chalk hills in the + west, fell with them, and left the sky a blaze of gold. + </p> + <p> + Soon men could be seen as little specks. He heard a noise coming up to + meet him, a noise like the sound of waves upon a pebbly beach, and saw + that the roofs about the flying stage were dense with his people rejoicing + over his safe return. A black mass was crushed together under the stage, a + darkness stippled with innumerable faces, and quivering with the minute + oscillation of waved white handkerchiefs and waving hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — THREE DAYS + </h2> + <p> + Lincoln awaited Graham in an apartment beneath the flying stages. He + seemed curious to learn all that had happened, pleased to hear of the + extraordinary delight and interest which Graham took in flying. Graham was + in a mood of enthusiasm. “I must learn to fly,” he cried. + “I must master that. I pity all poor souls who have died without + this opportunity. The sweet swift air! It is the most wonderful experience + in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find our new times full of wonderful experiences,” + said Lincoln. “I do not know what you will care to do now. We have + music that may seem novel.” + </p> + <p> + “For the present,” said Graham, “flying holds me. Let me + learn more of that. Your aeronaut was saying there is some trades union + objection to one’s learning.” + </p> + <p> + “There is, I believe,” said Lincoln. “But for you—! + If you would like to occupy yourself with that, we can make you a sworn + aeronaut to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Graham expressed his wishes vividly and talked of his sensations for a + while. “And as for affairs,” he asked abruptly. “How are + things going on?” + </p> + <p> + Lincoln waved affairs aside. “Ostrog will tell you that to-morrow,” + he said. “Everything is settling down. The Revolution accomplishes + itself all over the world. Friction is inevitable here and there, of + course; but your rule is assured. You may rest secure with things in + Ostrog’s hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be possible for me to be made a sworn aeronaut, as you + call it, forthwith—before I sleep?” said Graham, pacing. + “Then I could be at it the very first thing to-morrow again....” + </p> + <p> + “It would be possible,” said Lincoln thoughtfully. “Quite + possible. Indeed, it shall be done.” He laughed. “I came + prepared to suggest amusements, but you have found one for yourself. I + will telephone to the aeronautical offices from here and we will return to + your apartments in the Wind-Vane Control. By the time you have dined the + aeronauts will be able to come. You don’t think that after you have + dined you might prefer—?” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “We had prepared a show of dancers—they have been brought from + the Capri theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate ballets,” said Graham, shortly. “Always did. + That other—. That’s not what I want to see. We had dancers in + the old days. For the matter of that, they had them in ancient Egypt. But + flying—” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Lincoln. “Though our dancers—” + </p> + <p> + “They can afford to wait,” said Graham; “they can afford + to wait. I know. I’m not a Latin. There’s questions I want to + ask some expert—about your machinery. I’m keen. I want no + distractions.” + </p> + <p> + “You have the world to choose from,” said Lincoln; “whatever + you want is yours.” + </p> + <p> + Asano appeared, and under the escort of a strong guard they returned + through the city streets to Graham’s apartments. Far larger crowds + had assembled to witness his return than his departure had gathered, and + the shouts and cheering of these masses of people sometimes drowned + Lincoln’s answers to the endless questions Graham’s aerial + journey had suggested. At first Graham had acknowledged the cheering and + cries of the crowd by bows and gestures, but Lincoln warned him that such + a recognition would be considered incorrect behaviour. Graham, already a + little wearied by rhythmic civilities, ignored his subjects for the + remainder of his public progress. + </p> + <p> + Directly they arrived at his apartments Asano departed in search of + kinematographic renderings of machinery in motion, and Lincoln despatched + Graham’s commands for models of machines and small machines to + illustrate the various mechanical advances of the last two centuries. The + little group of appliances for telegraphic communication attracted the + Master so strongly that his delightfully prepared dinner, served by a + number of charmingly dexterous girls, waited for a space. The habit of + smoking had almost ceased from the face of the earth, but when he + expressed a wish for that indulgence, enquiries were made and some + excellent cigars were discovered in Florida, and sent to him by pneumatic + despatch while the dinner was still in progress. Afterwards came the + aeronauts, and a feast of ingenious wonders in the hands of a latter-day + engineer. For the time, at any rate, the neat dexterity of counting and + numbering machines, building machines, spinning engines, patent doorways, + explosive motors, grain and water elevators, slaughter-house machines and + harvesting appliances, was more fascinating to Graham than any bayadhre. + “We were savages,” was his refrain, “we were savages. We + were in the stone age—compared with this.... And what else have you?” + </p> + <p> + There came also practical psychologists with some very interesting + developments in the art of hypnotism. The names of Milne Bramwell, + Fechner, Liebault, William James, Myers and Gurney, he found, bore a value + now that would have astonished their contemporaries. Several practical + applications of psychology were now in general use; it had largely + superseded drugs, antiseptics and anesthetics in medicine; was employed by + almost all who had any need of mental concentration. A real enlargement of + human faculty seemed to have been effected in this direction. The feats of + “calculating boys,” the wonders, as Graham had been wont to + regard them, of mesmerisers, were now within the range of anyone who could + afford the services of a skilled hypnotist. Long ago the old examination + methods in education had been destroyed by these expedients. Instead of + years of study, candidates had substituted a few weeks of trances, and + during the trances expert coaches had simply to repeat all the points + necessary for adequate answering, adding a suggestion of the post-hypnotic + recollection of these points. In process mathematics particularly, this + aid had been of singular service, and it was now invariably invoked by + such players of chess and games of manual dexterity as were still to be + found. In fact, all operations conducted under finite rules, of a + quasi-mechanical sort that is, were now systematically relieved from the + wanderings of imagination and emotion, and brought to an unexampled pitch + of accuracy. Little children of the labouring classes, so soon as they + were of sufficient age to be hypnotised, were thus converted into + beautifully punctual and trustworthy machine minders, and released + forthwith from the long, long thoughts of youth. Aeronautical pupils, who + gave way to giddiness, could be relieved from their imaginary terrors. In + every street were hypnotists ready to print permanent memories upon the + mind. If anyone desired to remember a name, a series of numbers, a song or + a speech, it could be done by this method, and conversely memories could + be effaced, habits removed, and desires eradicated—a sort of psychic + surgery was, in fact, in general use. Indignities, humbling experiences, + were thus forgotten, widows would obliterate their previous husbands, + angry lovers release themselves from their slavery. To graft desires, + however, was still impossible, and the facts of thought transference were + yet unsystematised. The psychologists illustrated their expositions with + some astounding experiments in mnemonics made through the agency of a + troupe of pale-faced children in blue. + </p> + <p> + Graham, like most of the people of his former time, distrusted the + hypnotist, or he might then and there have eased his mind of many painful + preoccupations. But in spite of Lincoln’s assurances he held to the + old theory that to be hypnotised was in some way the surrender of his + personality, the abdication of his will. At the banquet of wonderful + experiences that was beginning, he wanted very keenly to remain absolutely + himself. + </p> + <p> + The next day, and another day, and yet another day passed in such + interests as these. Each day Graham spent many hours in the glorious + entertainment of flying. On the third, he soared across middle France, and + within sight of the snow-clad Alps. These vigorous exercises gave him + restful sleep; he recovered almost wholly from the spiritless anemia of + his first awakening. And whenever he was not in the air, and awake, + Lincoln was assiduous in the cause of his amusement; all that was novel + and curious in contemporary invention was brought to him, until at last + his appetite for novelty was well-nigh glutted. One might fill a dozen + inconsecutive volumes with the strange things they exhibited. Each + afternoon he held his court for an hour or so. He found his interest in + his contemporaries becoming personal and intimate. At first he had been + alert chiefly for unfamiliarity and peculiarity; any foppishness in their + dress, any discordance with his preconceptions of nobility in their status + and manners had jarred upon him, and it was remarkable to him how soon + that strangeness and the faint hostility that arose from it, disappeared; + how soon he came to appreciate the true perspective of his position, and + see the old Victorian days remote and quaint. He found himself + particularly amused by the red-haired daughter of the Manager of the + European Piggeries. On the second day after dinner he made the + acquaintance of a latter-day dancing girl, and found her an astonishing + artist. And after that, more hypnotic wonders. On the third day Lincoln + was moved to suggest that the Master should repair to a Pleasure City, but + this Graham declined, nor would he accept the services of the hypnotists + in his aeronautical experiments. The link of locality held him to London; + he found a delight in topographical identifications that he would have + missed abroad. “Here—or a hundred feet below here,” he + could say, “I used to eat my midday cutlets during my London + University days. Underneath here was Waterloo and the tiresome hunt for + confusing trains. Often have I stood waiting down there, bag in hand, and + stared up into the sky above the forest of signals, little thinking I + should walk some day a hundred yards in the air. And now in that very sky + that was once a grey smoke canopy, I circle in a monoplane.” + </p> + <p> + During those three days Graham was so occupied with these distractions + that the vast political movements in progress outside his quarters had but + a small share of his attention. Those about him told him little. Daily + came Ostrog, the Boss, his Grand Vizier, his mayor of the palace, to + report in vague terms the steady establishment of his rule; “a + little trouble” soon to be settled in this city, “a slight + disturbance” in that. The song of the social revolt came to him no + more; he never learned that it had been forbidden in the municipal limits; + and all the great emotions of the crow’s nest slumbered in his mind. + </p> + <p> + But on the second and third of the three days he found himself, in spite + of his interest in the daughter of the Pig Manager, or it may be by reason + of the thoughts her conversation suggested, remembering the girl Helen + Wotton, who had spoken to him so oddly at the Wind-Vane Keeper’s + gathering. The impression, she had made was a deep one, albeit the + incessant surprise of novel circumstances had kept him from brooding upon + it for a space. But now her memory was coming to its own. He wondered what + she had meant by those broken half-forgotten sentences; the picture of her + eyes and the earnest passion of her face became more vivid as his + mechanical interests faded. Her slender beauty came compellingly between + him and certain immediate temptations of ignoble passion. But he did not + see her again until three full days were past. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — GRAHAM REMEMBERS + </h2> + <p> + She came upon him at last in a little gallery that ran from the Wind-Vane + Offices toward his state apartments. The gallery was long and narrow, with + a series of recesses, each with an arched fenestration that looked upon a + court of palms. He came upon her suddenly in one of these recesses. She + was seated. She turned her head at the sound of his footsteps and started + at the sight of him. Every touch of colour vanished from her face. She + rose instantly, made a step toward him as if to address him, and + hesitated. He stopped and stood still, expectant. Then he perceived that a + nervous tumult silenced her, perceived, too, that she must have sought + speech with him to be waiting for him in this place. + </p> + <p> + He felt a regal impulse to assist her. “I have wanted to see you,” + he said. “A few days ago you wanted to tell me something—you + wanted to tell me of the people. What was it you had to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You said the people were unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she was silent still. + </p> + <p> + “It must have seemed strange to you,” she said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “It did. And yet—” + </p> + <p> + “It was an impulse.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “That is all.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a face of hesitation. She spoke with an effort. + “You forget,” she said, drawing a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The people—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget the people.” + </p> + <p> + He looked interrogative. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I know you are surprised. For you do not understand what you + are. You do not know the things that are happening.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Not clearly, perhaps. But—tell me.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to him with sudden resolution. “It is so hard to explain. + I have meant to, I have wanted to. And now—I cannot. I am not ready + with words. But about you—there is something. It is wonder. Your + sleep—your awakening. These things are miracles. To me at least—and + to all the common people. You who lived and suffered and died, you who + were a common citizen, wake again, live again, to find yourself Master + almost of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Master of the earth,” he said. “So they tell me. But + try and imagine how little I know of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cities—Trusts—the Labour Department—” + </p> + <p> + “Principalities, powers, dominions—the power and the glory. + Yes, I have heard them shout. I know. I am Master. King, if you wish. With + Ostrog, the Boss—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him and surveyed his face with a curious scrutiny. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. “To take the responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we have begun to fear.” For a moment she said no + more. “No,” she said slowly. “<i>You</i> will take the + responsibility. You will take the responsibility. The people look to you.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke softly. “Listen! For at least half the years of your sleep—in + every generation—multitudes of people, in every generation greater + multitudes of people, have prayed that you might awake—<i>prayed</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Graham moved to speak and did not. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, and a faint colour crept back to her cheek. “Do you + know that you have been to myriads—King Arthur, Barbarossa—the + King who would come in his own good time and put the world right for them?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the imagination of the people—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not heard our proverb, ‘When the Sleeper wakes’? + While you lay insensible and motionless there—thousands came. + Thousands. Every first of the month you lay in state with a white robe + upon you and the people filed by you. When I was a little girl I saw you + like that, with your face white and calm.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face from him and looked steadfastly at the painted wall + before her. Her voice fell. “When I was a little girl I used to look + at your face.... It seemed to me fixed and waiting, like the patience of + God.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we thought of you,” she said. “That is how + you seemed to us.” + </p> + <p> + She turned shining eyes to him, her voice was clear and strong. “In + the city, in the earth, a myriad myriad men and women are waiting to see + what you will do, full of strange incredible expectations.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog—no one—can take that responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + Graham looked at her in surprise, at her face lit with emotion. She seemed + at first to have spoken with an effort, and to have fired herself by + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said, “that you who have lived that + little life so far away in the past, you who have fallen into and risen + out of this miracle of sleep—do you think that the wonder and + reverence and hope of half the world has gathered about you only that you + may live another little life?... That you may shift the responsibility to + any other man?” + </p> + <p> + “I know how great this kingship of mine is,” he said + haltingly. “I know how great it seems. But is it real? It is + incredible—dreamlike. Is it real, or is it only a great delusion?” + </p> + <p> + “It is real,” she said; “if you dare.” + </p> + <p> + “After all, like all kingship, my kingship is Belief. It is an + illusion in the minds of men.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dare!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Countless men,” she said, “and while it is in their + minds—they will obey.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know nothing. That is what I had in mind. I know nothing. And + these others—the Councillors, Ostrog. They are wiser, cooler, they + know so much, every detail. And, indeed, what are these miseries of which + you speak? What am I to know? Do you mean—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped blankly. + </p> + <p> + “I am still hardly more than a girl,” she said. “But to + me the world seems full of wretchedness. The world has altered since your + day, altered very strangely. I have prayed that I might see you and tell + you these things. The world has changed. As if a canker had seized it—and + robbed life of—everything worth having.” + </p> + <p> + She turned a flushed face upon him, moving suddenly. “Your days were + the days of freedom. Yes—I have thought. I have been made to think, + for my life—has not been happy. Men are no longer free—no + greater, no better than the men of your time. That is not all. This city—is + a prison. Every city now is a prison. Mammon grips the key in his hand. + Myriads, countless myriads, toil from the cradle to the grave. Is that + right? Is that to be—for ever? Yes, far worse than in your time. All + about us, beneath us, sorrow and pain. All the shallow delight of such + life as you find about you, is separated by just a little from a life of + wretchedness beyond any telling. Yes, the poor know it—they know + they suffer. These countless multitudes who faced death for you two nights + since—! You owe your life to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Graham, slowly. “Yes. I owe my life to them.” + </p> + <p> + “You come,” she said, “from the days when this new + tyranny of the cities was scarcely beginning. It is a tyranny—a + tyranny. In your days the feudal war lords had gone, and the new lordship + of wealth had still to come. Half the men in the world still lived out + upon the free countryside. The cities had still to devour them. I have + heard the stories out of the old books—there was nobility! Common + men led lives of love and faithfulness then—they did a thousand + things. And you—you come from that time.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not—. But never mind. How is it now—?” + </p> + <p> + “Gain and the Pleasure Cities! Or slavery—unthanked, + unhonoured, slavery.” + </p> + <p> + “Slavery!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Slavery.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say that human beings are chattels.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse. That is what I want you to know, what I want you to see. I + know you do not know. They will keep things from you, they will take you + presently to a Pleasure City. But you have noticed men and women and + children in pale blue canvas, with thin yellow faces and dull eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking a horrible dialect, coarse and weak.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the slaves—your slaves. They are the slaves of the + Labour Department you own.” + </p> + <p> + “The Labour Department! In some way—that is familiar. Ah! now + I remember. I saw it when I was wandering about the city, after the lights + returned, great fronts of buildings coloured pale blue. Do you really mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. How can I explain it to you? Of course the blue uniform struck + you. Nearly a third of our people wear it—more assume it now every + day. This Labour Department has grown imperceptibly.” + </p> + <p> + “What <i>is</i> this Labour Department?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “In the old times, how did you manage with starving people?” + </p> + <p> + “There was the workhouse—which the parishes maintained.” + </p> + <p> + “Workhouse! Yes—there was something. In our history lessons. I + remember now. The Labour Department ousted the workhouse. It grew—partly—out + of something—you, perhaps, may remember it—an emotional + religious organisation called the Salvation Army—that became a + business company. In the first place it was almost a charity. To save + people from workhouse rigours. There had been a great agitation against + the workhouse. Now I come to think of it, it was one of the earliest + properties your Trustees acquired. They bought the Salvation Army and + reconstructed it as this. The idea in the first place was to organise the + labour of starving homeless people.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nowadays there are no workhouses, no refuges and charities, nothing + but that Department. Its offices are everywhere. That blue is its colour. + And any man, woman or child who comes to be hungry and weary and with + neither home nor friend nor resort, must go to the Department in the end—or + seek some way of death. The Euthanasy is beyond their means—for the + poor there is no easy death. And at any hour in the day or night there is + food, shelter and a blue uniform for all comers—that is the first + condition of the Department’s incorporation—and in return for + a day’s shelter the Department extracts a day’s work, and then + returns the visitor’s proper clothing and sends him or her out + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that does not seem so terrible to you. In your time men + starved in your streets. That was bad. But they died—<i>men</i>. + These people in blue—. The proverb runs: ‘Blue canvas once and + ever.’ The Department trades in their labour, and it has taken care + to assure itself of the supply. People come to it starving and helpless—they + eat and sleep for a night and day, they work for a day, and at the end of + the day they go out again. If they have worked well they have a penny or + so—enough for a theatre or a cheap dancing place, or a kinematograph + story, or a dinner or a bet. They wander about after that is spent. + Begging is prevented by the police of the ways. Besides, no one gives. + They come back again the next day or the day after—brought back by + the same incapacity that brought them first. At last their proper clothing + wears out, or their rags get so shabby that they are ashamed. Then they + must work for months to get fresh. If they want fresh. A great number of + children are born under the Department’s care. The mother owes them + a month thereafter—the children they cherish and educate until they + are fourteen, and they pay two years’ service. You may be sure these + children are educated for the blue canvas. And so it is the Department + works.” + </p> + <p> + “And none are destitute in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “None. They are either in blue canvas or in prison. We have + abolished destitution. It is engraved upon the Department’s checks.” + </p> + <p> + “If they will not work?” + </p> + <p> + “Most people will work at that pitch, and the Department has powers. + There are stages of unpleasantness in the work—stoppage of food—and + a man or woman who has refused to work once is known by a thumb-marking + system in the Department’s offices all over the world. Besides, who + can leave the city poor? To go to Paris costs two Lions. And for + insubordination there are the prisons—dark and miserable—out + of sight below. There are prisons now for many things.” + </p> + <p> + “And a third of the people wear this blue canvas?” + </p> + <p> + “More than a third. Toilers, living without pride or delight or + hope, with the stories of Pleasure Cities ringing in their ears, mocking + their shameful lives, their privations and hardships. Too poor even for + the Euthanasy, the rich man’s refuge from life. Dumb, crippled + millions, countless millions, all the world about, ignorant of anything + but limitations and unsatisfied desires. They are born, they are thwarted + and they die. That is the state to which we have come.” + </p> + <p> + For a space Graham sat downcast. + </p> + <p> + “But there has been a revolution,” he said. “All these + things will be changed. Ostrog—” + </p> + <p> + “That is our hope. That is the hope of the world. But Ostrog will + not do it. He is a politician. To him it seems things must be like this. + He does not mind. He takes it for granted. All the rich, all the + influential, all who are happy, come at last to take these miseries for + granted. They use the people in their politics, they live in ease by their + degradation. But you—you who come from a happier age—it is to + you the people look. To you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her face. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. He felt a + rush of emotion. For a moment he forgot this city, he forgot the race, and + all those vague remote voices, in the immediate humanity of her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do?” he said with his eyes upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Rule,” she answered, bending towards him and speaking in a + low tone. “Rule the world as it has never been ruled, for the good + and happiness of men. For you might rule it—you could rule it. + </p> + <p> + “The people are stirring. All over the world the people are + stirring. It wants but a word—but a word from you—to bring + them all together. Even the middle sort of people are restless—unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “They are not telling you the things that are happening. The people + will not go back to their drudgery—they refuse to be disarmed. + Ostrog has awakened something greater than he dreamt of—he has + awakened hopes.” + </p> + <p> + His heart was beating fast. He tried to seem judicial, to weigh + considerations. + </p> + <p> + “They only want their leader,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “You could do what you would;—the world is yours.” + </p> + <p> + He sat, no longer regarding her. Presently he spoke. “The old + dreams, and the thing I have dreamt, liberty, happiness. Are they dreams? + Could one man—<i>one man</i>—?” His voice sank and + ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Not one man, but all men—give them only a leader to speak the + desire of their hearts.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, and for a time there was silence. + </p> + <p> + He looked up suddenly, and their eyes met. “I have not your faith,” + he said, “I have not your youth. I am here with power that mocks me. + No—let me speak. I want to do—not right—I have not the + strength for that—but something rather right than wrong. It will + bring no millennium, but I am resolved now, that I will rule. What you + have said has awakened me... You are right. Ostrog must know his place. + And I will learn—.... One thing I promise you. This Labour slavery + shall end.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will rule?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Provided—. There is one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “That you will help me.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>—a girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Does it not occur to you I am absolutely alone?” + </p> + <p> + She started and for an instant her eyes had pity. “Need you ask + whether I will help you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + There came a tense silence, and then the beating of a clock striking the + hour. Graham rose. + </p> + <p> + “Even now,” he said, “Ostrog will be waiting.” He + hesitated, facing her. “When I have asked him certain questions—. + There is much I do not know. It may be, that I will go to see with my own + eyes the things of which you have spoken. And when I return—?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall know of your going and coming. I will wait for you here + again.” + </p> + <p> + They regarded one another steadfastly, questioningly, and then he turned + from her towards the Wind-Vane office. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — OSTROG’S POINT OF VIEW + </h2> + <p> + Graham found Ostrog waiting to give a formal account of his day’s + stewardship. On previous occasions he had passed over this ceremony as + speedily as possible, in order to resume his aerial experiences, but now + he began to ask quick short questions. He was very anxious to take up his + empire forthwith. Ostrog brought flattering reports of the development of + affairs abroad. In Paris and Berlin, Graham perceived that he was saying, + there had been trouble, not organised resistance indeed, but insubordinate + proceedings. “After all these years,” said Ostrog, when Graham + pressed enquiries; “the Commune has lifted its head again. That is + the real nature of the struggle, to be explicit.” But order had been + restored in these cities. Graham, the more deliberately judicial for the + stirring emotions he felt, asked if there had been any fighting. “A + little,” said Ostrog. “In one quarter only. But the Senegalese + division of our African agricultural police—the Consolidated African + Companies have a very well drilled police—was ready, and so were the + aeroplanes. We expected a little trouble in the continental cities, and in + America. But things are very quiet in America. They are satisfied with the + overthrow of the Council. For the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you expect trouble?” asked Graham abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “There is a lot of discontent—social discontent.” + </p> + <p> + “The Labour Department?” + </p> + <p> + “You are learning,” said Ostrog with a touch of surprise. + “Yes. It is chiefly the discontent with the Labour Department. It + was that discontent supplied the motive force of this overthrow—that + and your awakening.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog smiled. He became explicit. “We had to stir up their + discontent, we had to revive the old ideals of universal happiness—all + men equal—all men happy—no luxury that everyone may not share—ideas + that have slumbered for two hundred years. You know that? We had to revive + these ideals, impossible as they are—in order to overthrow the + Council. And now—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Our revolution is accomplished, and the Council is overthrown, and + people whom we have stirred up—remain surging. There was scarcely + enough fighting.... We made promises, of course. It is extraordinary how + violently and rapidly this vague out-of-date humanitarianism has revived + and spread. We who sowed the seed even, have been astonished. In Paris, as + I say—we have had to call in a little external help.” + </p> + <p> + “And here?” + </p> + <p> + “There is trouble. Multitudes will not go back to work. There is a + general strike. Half the factories are empty and the people are swarming + in the ways. They are talking of a Commune. Men in silk and satin have + been insulted in the streets. The blue canvas is expecting all sorts of + things from you.... Of course there is no need for you to trouble. We are + setting the Babble Machines to work with counter suggestions in the cause + of law and order. We must keep the grip tight; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + Graham thought. He perceived a way of asserting himself. But he spoke with + restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Even to the pitch of bringing a negro police,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “They are useful,” said Ostrog. “They are fine loyal + brutes, with no wash of ideas in their heads—such as our rabble has. + The Council should have had them as police of the ways, and things might + have been different. Of course, there is nothing to fear except rioting + and wreckage. You can manage your own wings now, and you can soar away to + Capri if there is any smoke or fuss. We have the pull of all the great + things; the aeronauts are privileged and rich, the closest trades union in + the world, and so are the engineers of the wind-vanes. We have the air, + and the mastery of the air is the mastery of the earth. No one of any + ability is organising against us. They have no leaders—only the + sectional leaders of the secret society we organised before your very + opportune awakening. Mere busybodies and sentimentalists they are and + bitterly jealous of each other. None of them is man enough for a central + figure. The only trouble will be a disorganised upheaval. To be frank—that + may happen. But it won’t interrupt your aeronautics. The days when + the People could make revolutions are past.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they are,” said Graham. “I suppose they are.” + He mused. “This world of yours has been full of surprises to me. In + the old days we dreamt of a wonderful democratic life, of a time when all + men would be equal and happy.” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog looked at him steadfastly. “The day of democracy is past,” + he said. “Past for ever. That day began with the bowmen of Crécy, it + ended when marching infantry, when common men in masses ceased to win the + battles of the world, when costly cannon, great ironclads, and strategic + railways became the means of power. To-day is the day of wealth. Wealth + now is power as it never was power before—it commands earth and sea + and sky. All power is for those who can handle wealth. On your behalf.... + You must accept facts, and these are facts. The world for the Crowd! The + Crowd as Ruler! Even in your days that creed had been tried and condemned. + To-day it has only one believer—a multiplex, silly one—the man + in the Crowd.” + </p> + <p> + Graham did not answer immediately. He stood lost in sombre preoccupations. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ostrog. “The day of the common man is past. + On the open countryside one man is as good as another, or nearly as good. + The earlier aristocracy had a precarious tenure of strength and audacity. + They were tempered—tempered. There were insurrections, duels, riots. + The first real aristocracy, the first permanent aristocracy, came in with + castles and armour, and vanished before the musket and bow. But this is + the second aristocracy. The real one. Those days of gunpowder and + democracy were only an eddy in the stream. The common man now is a + helpless unit. In these days we have this great machine of the city, and + an organisation complex beyond his understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” said Graham, “there is something resists, + something you are holding down—something that stirs and presses.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see,” said Ostrog, with a forced smile that would + brush these difficult questions aside. “I have not roused the force + to destroy myself—trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + Ostrog stared. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Must</i> the world go this way?” said Graham with his + emotions at the speaking point. “Must it indeed go in this way? Have + all our hopes been vain?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Ostrog. “Hopes?” + </p> + <p> + “I come from a democratic age. And I find an aristocratic tyranny!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,—but you are the chief tyrant.” + </p> + <p> + Graham shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ostrog, “take the general question. It is + the way that change has always travelled. Aristocracy, the prevalence of + the best—the suffering and extinction of the unfit, and so to better + things.” + </p> + <p> + “But aristocracy! those people I met—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! not <i>those</i>!” said Ostrog. “But for the most + part they go to their death. Vice and pleasure! They have no children. + That sort of stuff will die out. If the world keeps to one road, that is, + if there is no turning back. An easy road to excess, convenient Euthanasia + for the pleasure seekers singed in the flame, that is the way to improve + the race!” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasant extinction,” said Graham. “Yet—.” + He thought for an instant. “There is that other thing—the + Crowd, the great mass of poor men. Will that die out? That will not die + out. And it suffers, its suffering is a force that even you—” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog moved impatiently, and when he spoke, he spoke rather less evenly + than before. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble about these things,” he said. “Everything + will be settled in a few days now. The Crowd is a huge foolish beast. What + if it does not die out? Even if it does not die, it can still be tamed and + driven. I have no sympathy with servile men. You heard those people + shouting and singing two nights ago. They were <i>taught</i> that song. If + you had taken any man there in cold blood and asked why he shouted, he + could not have told you. They think they are shouting for you, that they + are loyal and devoted to you. Just then they were ready to slaughter the + Council. To-day—they are already murmuring against those who have + overthrown the Council.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Graham. “They shouted because their lives + were dreary, without joy or pride, and because in me—in me—they + hoped.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was their hope? What is their hope? What right have they + to hope? They work ill and they want the reward of those who work well. + The hope of mankind—what is it? That some day the Over-man may come, + that some day the inferior, the weak and the bestial may be subdued or + eliminated. Subdued if not eliminated. The world is no place for the bad, + the stupid, the enervated. Their duty—it’s a fine duty too!—is + to die. The death of the failure! That is the path by which the beast rose + to manhood, by which man goes on to higher things.” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog took a pace, seemed to think, and turned on Graham. “I can + imagine how this great world state of ours seems to a Victorian + Englishman. You regret all the old forms of representative government—their + spectres still haunt the world, the voting councils, and parliaments and + all that eighteenth century tomfoolery. You feel moved against our + Pleasure Cities. I might have thought of that,—had I not been busy. + But you will learn better. The people are mad with envy—they would + be in sympathy with you. Even in the streets now, they clamour to destroy + the Pleasure Cities. But the Pleasure Cities are the excretory organs of + the State, attractive places that year after year draw together all that + is weak and vicious, all that is lascivious and lazy, all the easy roguery + of the world, to a graceful destruction. They go there, they have their + time, they die childless, all the pretty silly lascivious women die + childless, and mankind is the better. If the people were sane they would + not envy the rich their way of death. And you would emancipate the silly + brainless workers that we have enslaved, and try to make their lives easy + and pleasant again. Just as they have sunk to what they are fit for.” + He smiled a smile that irritated Graham oddly. “You will learn + better. I know those ideas; in my boyhood I read your Shelley and dreamt + of Liberty. There is no liberty, save wisdom and self-control. Liberty is + within—not without. It is each man’s own affair. Suppose—which + is impossible—that these swarming yelping fools in blue get the + upper hand of us, what then? They will only fall to other masters. So long + as there are sheep Nature will insist on beasts of prey. It would mean but + a few hundred years’ delay. The coming of the aristocrat is fatal + and assured. The end will be the Over-man—for all the mad protests + of humanity. Let them revolt, let them win and kill me and my like. Others + will arise—other masters. The end will be the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Graham doggedly. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood downcast. + </p> + <p> + “But I must see these things for myself,” he said, suddenly + assuming a tone of confident mastery. “Only by seeing can I + understand. I must learn. That is what I want to tell you, Ostrog. I do + not want to be King in a Pleasure City; that is not my pleasure. I have + spent enough time with aeronautics—and those other things. I must + learn how people live now, how the common life has developed. Then I shall + understand these things better. I must learn how common people live—the + labour people more especially—how they work, marry, bear children, + die—” + </p> + <p> + “You get that from our realistic novelists,” suggested Ostrog, + suddenly preoccupied. + </p> + <p> + “I want reality,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “There are difficulties,” said Ostrog, and thought. “On + the whole—” + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect—” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought—. And yet perhaps—. You say you want to + go through the ways of the city and see the common people.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he came to some conclusion. “You would need to go + disguised,” he said. “The city is intensely excited, and the + discovery of your presence among them might create a fearful tumult. Still + this wish of yours to go into this city—this idea of yours—. + Yes, now I think the thing over, it seems to me not altogether—. It + can be contrived. If you would really find an interest in that! You are, + of course, Master. You can go soon if you like. A disguise Asano will be + able to manage. He would go with you. After all it is not a bad idea of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not want to consult me in any matter?” asked Graham + suddenly, struck by an odd suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no! No! I think you may trust affairs to me for a time, at + any rate,” said Ostrog, smiling. “Even if we differ—” + </p> + <p> + Graham glanced at him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “There is no fighting likely to happen soon?” he asked + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking about these negroes. I don’t believe the + people intend any hostility to me, and, after all, I am the Master. I do + not want any negroes brought to London. It is an archaic prejudice + perhaps, but I have peculiar feelings about Europeans and the subject + races. Even about Paris—” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog stood watching him from under his drooping brows. “I am not + bringing negroes to London,” he said slowly. “But if—” + </p> + <p> + “You are not to bring armed negroes to London, whatever happens,” + said Graham. “In that matter I am quite decided.” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog resolved not to speak, and bowed deferentially. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — IN THE CITY WAYS + </h2> + <p> + And that night, unknown and unsuspected, Graham, dressed in the costume of + an inferior wind-vane official keeping holiday, and accompanied by Asano + in Labour Department canvas, surveyed the city through which he had + wandered when it was veiled in darkness. But now he saw it lit and waking, + a whirlpool of life. In spite of the surging and swaying of the forces of + revolution, in spite of the unusual discontent, the mutterings of the + greater struggle of which the first revolt was but the prelude, the myriad + streams of commerce still flowed wide and strong. He knew now something of + the dimensions and quality of the new age, but he was not prepared for the + infinite surprise of the detailed view, for the torrent of colour and + vivid impressions that poured past him. + </p> + <p> + This was his first real contact with the people of these latter days. He + realised that all that had gone before, saving his glimpses of the public + theatres and markets, had had its element of seclusion, had been a + movement within the comparatively narrow political quarter, that all his + previous experiences had revolved immediately about the question of his + own position. But here was the city at the busiest hours of night, the + people to a large extent returned to their own immediate interests, the + resumption of the real informal life, the common habits of the new time. + </p> + <p> + They emerged at first into a street whose opposite ways were crowded with + the blue canvas liveries. This swarm Graham saw was a portion of a + procession—it was odd to see a procession parading the city <i>seated</i>. + They carried banners of coarse black stuff with red letters. “No + disarmament,” said the banners, for the most part in crudely daubed + letters and with variant spelling, and “Why should we disarm?” + “No disarming.” “No disarming.” Banner after + banner went by, a stream of banners flowing past, and at last at the end, + the song of the revolt and a noisy band of strange instruments. “They + all ought to be at work,” said Asano. “They have had no food + these two days, or they have stolen it.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Asano made a detour to avoid the congested crowd that gaped upon + the occasional passage of dead bodies from hospital to a mortuary, the + gleanings after death’s harvest of the first revolt. + </p> + <p> + That night few people were sleeping, everyone was abroad. A vast + excitement, perpetual crowds perpetually changing, surrounded Graham; his + mind was confused and darkened by an incessant tumult, by the cries and + enigmatical fragments of the social struggle that was as yet only + beginning. Everywhere festoons and banners of black and strange + decorations, intensified the quality of his popularity. Everywhere he + caught snatches of that crude thick dialect that served the illiterate + class, the class, that is, beyond the reach of phonograph culture, in + their commonplace intercourse. Everywhere this trouble of disarmament was + in the air, with a quality of immediate stress of which he had no inkling + during his seclusion in the Wind-Vane quarter. He perceived that as soon + as he returned he must discuss this with Ostrog, this and the greater + issues of which it was the expression, in a far more conclusive way than + he had so far done. Perpetually that night, even in the earlier hours of + their wanderings about the city, the spirit of unrest and revolt swamped + his attention, to the exclusion of countless strange things he might + otherwise have observed. + </p> + <p> + This preoccupation made his impressions fragmentary. Yet amidst so much + that was strange and vivid, no subject, however personal and insistent, + could exert undivided sway. There were spaces when the revolutionary + movement passed clean out of his mind, was drawn aside like a curtain from + before some startling new aspect of the time. Helen had swayed his mind to + this intense earnestness of enquiry, but there came times when she, even, + receded beyond his conscious thoughts. At one moment, for example, he + found they were traversing the religious quarter, for the easy transit + about the city afforded by the moving ways rendered sporadic churches and + chapels no longer necessary—and his attention was vividly arrested + by the fagade of one of the Christian sects. + </p> + <p> + They were travelling seated on one of the swift upper ways, the place + leapt upon them at a bend and advanced rapidly towards them. It was + covered with inscriptions from top to base, in vivid white and blue, save + where a vast and glaring kinematograph transparency presented a realistic + New Testament scene, and where a vast festoon of black to show that the + popular religion followed the popular politics, hung across the lettering. + Graham had already become familiar with the phonotype writing and these + inscriptions arrested him, being to his sense for the most part almost + incredible blasphemy. Among the less offensive were “Salvation on + the First Floor and turn to the Right.” “Put your Money on + your Maker.” “The Sharpest Conversion in London, Expert + Operators! Look Slippy!” “What Christ would say to the + Sleeper;—Join the Up-to-date Saints!” “Be a Christian—without + hindrance to your present Occupation.” “All the Brightest + Bishops on the Bench to-night and Prices as Usual.” “Brisk + Blessings for Busy Business Men.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is appalling!” said Graham, as that deafening scream + of mercantile piety towered above them. + </p> + <p> + “What is appalling?” asked his little officer, apparently + seeking vainly for anything unusual in this shrieking enamel. + </p> + <p> + “<i>This</i>! Surely the essence of religion is reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh <i>that</i>!” Asano looked at Graham. “Does it shock + you?” he said in the tone of one who makes a discovery. “I + suppose it would, of course. I had forgotten. Nowadays the competition for + attention is so keen, and people simply haven’t the leisure to + attend to their souls, you know, as they used to do.” He smiled. + “In the old days you had quiet Sabbaths and the countryside. Though + somewhere I’ve read of Sunday afternoons that—” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>that</i>,” said Graham, glancing back at the receding + blue and white. “That is surely not the only—” + </p> + <p> + “There are hundreds of different ways. But, of course, if a sect + doesn’t <i>tell</i> it doesn’t pay. Worship has moved with the + times. There are high class sects with quieter ways—costly incense + and personal attentions and all that. These people are extremely popular + and prosperous. They pay several dozen lions for those apartments to the + Council—to you, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + Graham still felt a difficulty with the coinage, and this mention of a + dozen lions brought him abruptly to that matter. In a moment the screaming + temples and their swarming touts were forgotten in this new interest. A + turn of a phrase suggested, and an answer confirmed the idea that gold and + silver were both demonetised, that stamped gold which had begun its reign + amidst the merchants of Phoenicia was at last dethroned. The change had + been graduated but swift, brought about by an extension of the system of + cheques that had even in his previous life already practically superseded + gold in all the larger business transactions. The common traffic of the + city, the common currency indeed of all the world, was conducted by means + of the little brown, green and pink council cheques for small amounts, + printed with a blank payee. Asano had several with him, and at the first + opportunity he supplied the gaps in his set. They were printed not on + tearable paper, but on a semi-transparent fabric of silken flexibility, + interwoven with silk. Across them all sprawled a facsimile of Graham’s + signature, his first encounter with the curves and turns of that familiar + autograph for two hundred and three years. + </p> + <p> + Some intermediary experiences made no impression sufficiently vivid to + prevent the matter of the disarmament claiming his thoughts again; a + blurred picture of a Theosophist temple that promised MIRACLES in enormous + letters of unsteady fire was least submerged perhaps, but then came the + view of the dining hall in Northumberland Avenue. That interested him very + greatly. + </p> + <p> + By the energy and thought of Asano he was able to view this place from a + little screened gallery reserved for the attendants of the tables. The + building was pervaded by a distant muffled hooting, piping and bawling, of + which he did not at first understand the import, but which recalled a + certain mysterious leathery voice he had heard after the resumption of the + lights on the night of his solitary wandering. + </p> + <p> + He had grown accustomed to vastness and great numbers of people, + nevertheless this spectacle held him for a long time. It was as he watched + the table service more immediately beneath, and interspersed with many + questions and answers concerning details, that the realisation of the full + significance of the feast of several thousand people came to him. + </p> + <p> + It was his constant surprise to find that points that one might have + expected to strike vividly at the very outset never occurred to him until + some trivial detail suddenly shaped as a riddle and pointed to the obvious + thing he had overlooked. He discovered only now that this continuity of + the city, this exclusion of weather, these vast halls and ways, involved + the disappearance of the household; that the typical Victorian “Home,” + the little brick cell containing kitchen and scullery, living rooms and + bedrooms, had, save for the ruins that diversified the countryside, + vanished as surely as the wattle hut. But now he saw what had indeed been + manifest from the first, that London, regarded as a living place, was no + longer an aggregation of houses but a prodigious hotel, an hotel with a + thousand classes of accommodation, thousands of dining halls, chapels, + theatres, markets and places of assembly, a synthesis of enterprises, of + which he chiefly was the owner. People had their sleeping rooms, with, it + might be, antechambers, rooms that were always sanitary at least whatever + the degree of comfort and privacy, and for the rest they lived much as + many people had lived in the new-made giant hotels of the Victorian days, + eating, reading, thinking, playing, conversing, all in places of public + resort, going to their work in the industrial quarters of the city or + doing business in their offices in the trading section. + </p> + <p> + He perceived at once how necessarily this state of affairs had developed + from the Victorian city. The fundamental reason for the modern city had + ever been the economy of co-operation. The chief thing to prevent the + merging of the separate households in his own generation was simply the + still imperfect civilisation of the people, the strong barbaric pride, + passions, and prejudices, the jealousies, rivalries, and violence of the + middle and lower classes, which had necessitated the entire separation of + contiguous households. But the change, the taming of the people, had been + in rapid progress even then. In his brief thirty years of previous life he + had seen an enormous extension of the habit of consuming meals from home, + the casually patronised horse-box coffee-house had given place to the open + and crowded Aerated Bread Shop for instance, women’s clubs had had + their beginning, and an immense development of reading rooms, lounges and + libraries had witnessed to the growth of social confidence. These promises + had by this time attained to their complete fulfilment. The locked and + barred household had passed away. + </p> + <p> + These people below him belonged, he learnt, to the lower middle class, the + class just above the blue labourers, a class so accustomed in the + Victorian period to feed with every precaution of privacy that its + members, when occasion confronted them with a public meal, would usually + hide their embarrassment under horseplay or a markedly militant demeanour. + But these gaily, if lightly dressed people below, albeit vivacious, + hurried and uncommunicative, were dexterously mannered and certainly quite + at their ease with regard to one another. + </p> + <p> + He noted a slight significant thing; the table, as far as he could see, + was and remained delightfully neat, there was nothing to parallel the + confusion, the broadcast crumbs, the splashes of viand and condiment, the + overturned drink and displaced ornaments, which would have marked the + stormy progress of the Victorian meal. The table furniture was very + different. There were no ornaments, no flowers, and the table was without + a cloth, being made, he learnt, of a solid substance having the texture + and appearance of damask. He discerned that this damask substance was + patterned with gracefully designed trade advertisements. + </p> + <p> + In a sort of recess before each diner was a complex apparatus of porcelain + and metal. There was one plate of white porcelain, and by means of taps + for hot and cold volatile fluids the diner washed this himself between the + courses; he also washed his elegant white metal knife and fork and spoon + as occasion required. + </p> + <p> + Soup and the chemical wine that was the common drink were delivered by + similar taps, and the remaining covers travelled automatically in + tastefully arranged dishes down the table along silver rails. The diner + stopped these and helped himself at his discretion. They appeared at a + little door at one end of the table, and vanished at the other. That turn + of democratic sentiment in decay, that ugly pride of menial souls, which + renders equals loth to wait on one another, was very strong he found among + these people. He was so preoccupied with these details that it was only as + he was leaving the place that he remarked the huge advertisement dioramas + that marched majestically along the upper walls and proclaimed the most + remarkable commodities. + </p> + <p> + Beyond this place they came into a crowded hall, and he discovered the + cause of the noise that had perplexed him. They paused at a turnstile at + which a payment was made. + </p> + <p> + Graham’s attention was immediately arrested by a violent, loud hoot, + followed by a vast leathery voice. “The Master is sleeping + peacefully,” it vociferated. “He is in excellent health. He is + going to devote the rest of his life to aeronautics. He says women are + more beautiful than ever. Galloop! Wow! Our wonderful civilisation + astonishes him beyond measure. Beyond all measure. Galloop. He puts great + trust in Boss Ostrog, absolute confidence in Boss Ostrog. Ostrog is to be + his chief minister; is authorised to remove or reinstate public officers—all + patronage will be in his hands. All patronage in the hands of Boss Ostrog! + The Councillors have been sent back to their own prison above the Council + House.” + </p> + <p> + Graham stopped at the first sentence, and, looking up, beheld a foolish + trumpet face from which this was brayed. This was the General Intelligence + Machine. For a space it seemed to be gathering breath, and a regular + throbbing from its cylindrical body was audible. Then it trumpeted “Galloop, + Galloop,” and broke out again. + </p> + <p> + “Paris is now pacified. All resistance is over. Galloop! The black + police hold every position of importance in the city. They fought with + great bravery, singing songs written in praise of their ancestors by the + poet Kipling. Once or twice they got out of hand, and tortured and + mutilated wounded and captured insurgents, men and women. Moral—don’t + go rebelling. Haha! Galloop, Galloop! They are lively fellows. Lively + brave fellows. Let this be a lesson to the disorderly banderlog of this + city. Yah! Banderlog! Filth of the earth! Galloop, Galloop!” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased. There was a confused murmur of disapproval among the + crowd. “Damned niggers.” A man began to harangue near them. + “Is this the Master’s doing, brothers? Is this the Master’s + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Black police!” said Graham. “What is that? You don’t + mean—” + </p> + <p> + Asano touched his arm and gave him a warning look, and forthwith another + of these mechanisms screamed deafeningly and gave tongue in a shrill + voice. “Yahaha, Yahah, Yap! Hear a live paper yelp! Live paper. + Yaha! Shocking outrage in Paris. Yahahah! The Parisians exasperated by the + black police to the pitch of assassination. Dreadful reprisals. Savage + times come again. Blood! Blood! Yaha!” The nearer Babble Machine + hooted stupendously, “Galloop, Galloop,” drowned the end of + the sentence, and proceeded in a rather flatter note than before with + novel comments on the horrors of disorder. “Law and order must be + maintained,” said the nearer Babble Machine. + </p> + <p> + “But,” began Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask questions here,” said Asano, “or you + will be involved in an argument.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go on,” said Graham, “for I want to know + more of this.” + </p> + <p> + As he and his companion pushed their way through the excited crowd that + swarmed beneath these voices, towards the exit, Graham conceived more + clearly the proportion and features of this room. Altogether, great and + small, there must have been nearly a thousand of these erections, piping, + hooting, bawling and gabbling in that great space, each with its crowd of + excited listeners, the majority of them men dressed in blue canvas. There + were all sizes of machines, from the little gossiping mechanisms that + chuckled out mechanical sarcasm in odd corners, through a number of grades + to such fifty-foot giants as that which had first hooted over Graham. + </p> + <p> + This place was unusually crowded, because of the intense public interest + in the course of affairs in Paris. Evidently the struggle had been much + more savage than Ostrog had represented it. All the mechanisms were + discoursing upon that topic, and the repetition of the people made the + huge hive buzz with such phrases as “Lynched policemen,” + “Women burnt alive,” “Fuzzy Wuzzy.” “But + does the Master allow such things?” asked a man near him. “Is + <i>this</i> the beginning of the Master’s rule?” + </p> + <p> + Is <i>this</i> the beginning of the Master’s rule? For a long time + after he had left the place, the hooting, whistling and braying of the + machines pursued him; “Galloop, Galloop,” “Yahahah, + Yaha, Yap! Yaha!” Is <i>this</i> the beginning of the Master’s + rule? + </p> + <p> + Directly they were out upon the ways he began to question Asano closely on + the nature of the Parisian struggle. “This disarmament! What was + their trouble? What does it all mean?” Asano seemed chiefly anxious + to reassure him that it was “all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But these outrages!” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot have an omelette,” said Asano, “without + breaking eggs. It is only the rough people. Only in one part of the city. + All the rest is all right. The Parisian labourers are the wildest in the + world, except ours.” + </p> + <p> + “What! the Londoners?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the Japanese. They have to be kept in order.” + </p> + <p> + “But burning women alive!” + </p> + <p> + “A Commune!” said Asano. “They would rob you of your + property. They would do away with property and give the world over to mob + rule. You are Master, the world is yours. But there will be no Commune + here. There is no need for black police here. + </p> + <p> + “And every consideration has been shown. It is their own negroes—French + speaking negroes. Senegal regiments, and Niger and Timbuctoo.” + </p> + <p> + “Regiments?” said Graham, “I thought there was only one—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Asano, and glanced at him. “There is more + than one.” + </p> + <p> + Graham felt unpleasantly helpless. + </p> + <p> + “I did not think,” he began and stopped abruptly. He went off + at a tangent to ask for information about these Babble Machines. For the + most part, the crowd present had been shabbily or even raggedly dressed, + and Graham learnt that so far as the more prosperous classes were + concerned, in all the more comfortable private apartments of the city were + fixed Babble Machines that would speak directly a lever was pulled. The + tenant of the apartment could connect this with the cables of any of the + great News Syndicates that he preferred. When he learnt this presently, he + demanded the reason of their absence from his own suite of apartments. + Asano was embarrassed. “I never thought,” he said. “Ostrog + must have had them removed.” + </p> + <p> + Graham stared. “How was I to know?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he thought they would annoy you,” said Asano. + </p> + <p> + “They must be replaced directly I return,” said Graham after + an interval. + </p> + <p> + He found a difficulty in understanding that this news room and the dining + hall were not great central places, that such establishments were repeated + almost beyond counting all over the city. But ever and again during the + night’s expedition his ears would pick out from the tumult of the + ways the peculiar hooting of the organ of Boss Ostrog, “Galloop, + Galloop!” or the shrill “Yahaha, Yaha Yap!—Hear a live + paper yelp!” of its chief rival. + </p> + <p> + Repeated, too, everywhere, were such <i>crèches</i> as the one he now + entered. It was reached by a lift, and by a glass bridge that flung across + the dining hall and traversed the ways at a slight upward angle. To enter + the first section of the place necessitated the use of his solvent + signature under Asano’s direction. They were immediately attended to + by a man in a violet robe and gold clasp, the insignia of practising + medical men. He perceived from this man’s manner that his identity + was known, and proceeded to ask questions on the strange arrangements of + the place without reserve. + </p> + <p> + On either side of the passage, which was silent and padded, as if to + deaden the footfall, were narrow little doors, their size and arrangement + suggestive of the cells of a Victorian prison. But the upper portion of + each door was of the same greenish transparent stuff that had enclosed him + at his awakening, and within, dimly seen, lay, in every case, a very young + baby in a little nest of wadding. Elaborate apparatus watched the + atmosphere and rang a bell far away in the central office at the slightest + departure from the optimum of temperature and moisture. A system of such + <i>crèches</i> had almost entirely replaced the hazardous adventures of + the old-world nursing. The attendant presently called Graham’s + attention to the wet nurses, a vista of mechanical figures, with arms, + shoulders, and breasts of astonishingly realistic modelling, articulation, + and texture, but mere brass tripods below, and having in the place of + features a flat disc bearing advertisements likely to be of interest to + mothers. + </p> + <p> + Of all the strange things that Graham came upon that night, none jarred + more upon his habits of thought than this place. The spectacle of the + little pink creatures, their feeble limbs swaying uncertainly in vague + first movements, left alone, without embrace or endearment, was wholly + repugnant to him. The attendant doctor was of a different opinion. His + statistical evidence showed beyond dispute that in the Victorian times the + most dangerous passage of life was the arms of the mother, that there + human mortality had ever been most terrible. On the other hand this <i>crèche</i> + company, the International Crèche Syndicate, lost not one-half per cent, + of the million babies or so that formed its peculiar care. But Graham’s + prejudice was too strong even for those figures. + </p> + <p> + Along one of the many passages of the place they presently came upon a + young couple in the usual blue canvas peering through the transparency and + laughing hysterically at the bald head of their first-born. Graham’s + face must have showed his estimate of them, for their merriment ceased and + they looked abashed. But this little incident accentuated his sudden + realisation of the gulf between his habits of thought and the ways of the + new age. He passed on to the crawling rooms and the Kindergarten, + perplexed and distressed. He found the endless long playrooms were empty! + the latter-day children at least still spent their nights in sleep. As + they went through these, the little officer pointed out the nature of the + toys, developments of those devised by that inspired sentimentalist + Froebel. There were nurses here, but much was done by machines that sang + and danced and dandled. + </p> + <p> + Graham was still not clear upon many points. “But so many orphans,” + he said perplexed, reverting to a first misconception, and learnt again + that they were not orphans. + </p> + <p> + So soon as they had left the <i>crèche</i> he began to speak of the horror + the babies in their incubating cases had caused him. “Is motherhood + gone?” he said. “Was it a cant? Surely it was an instinct. + This seems so unnatural—abominable almost.” + </p> + <p> + “Along here we shall come to the dancing place,” said Asano by + way of reply. “It is sure to be crowded. In spite of all the + political unrest it will be crowded. The women take no great interest in + politics—except a few here and there. You will see the mothers—most + young women in London are mothers. In that class it is considered a + creditable thing to have one child—a proof of animation. Few middle + class people have more than one. With the Labour Department it is + different. As for motherhood! They still take an immense pride in the + children. They come here to look at them quite often.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do you mean that the population of the World—?” + </p> + <p> + “Is falling? Yes. Except among the people under the Labour + Department. In spite of scientific discipline they are reckless—” + </p> + <p> + The air was suddenly dancing with music, and down a way they approached + obliquely, set with gorgeous pillars as it seemed of clear amethyst, + flowed a concourse of gay people and a tumult of merry cries and laughter. + He saw curled heads, wreathed brows, and a happy intricate flutter of + gamboge pass triumphant across the picture. + </p> + <p> + “You will see,” said Asano with a faint smile. “The + world has changed. In a moment you will see the mothers of the new age. + Come this way. We shall see those yonder again very soon.” + </p> + <p> + They ascended a certain height in a swift lift, and changed to a slower + one. As they went on the music grew upon them, until it was near and full + and splendid, and, moving with its glorious intricacies they could + distinguish the beat of innumerable dancing feet. They made a payment at a + turnstile, and emerged upon the wide gallery that overlooked the dancing + place, and upon the full enchantment of sound and sight. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Asano, “are the fathers and mothers of the + little ones you saw.” + </p> + <p> + The hall was not so richly decorated as that of the Atlas, but saving + that, it was, for its size, the most splendid Graham had seen. The + beautiful white-limbed figures that supported the galleries reminded him + once more of the restored magnificence of sculpture; they seemed to writhe + in engaging attitudes, their faces laughed. The source of the music that + filled the place was hidden, and the whole vast shining floor was thick + with dancing couples. “Look at them,” said the little officer, + “see how much they show of motherhood.” + </p> + <p> + The gallery they stood upon ran along the upper edge of a huge screen that + cut the dancing hall on one side from a sort of outer hall that showed + through broad arches the incessant onward rush of the city ways. In this + outer hall was a great crowd of less brilliantly dressed people, as + numerous almost as those who danced within, the great majority wearing the + blue uniform of the Labour Department that was now so familiar to Graham. + Too poor to pass the turnstiles to the festival, they were yet unable to + keep away from the sound of its seductions. Some of them even had cleared + spaces, and were dancing also, fluttering their rags in the air. Some + shouted as they danced, jests and odd allusions Graham did not understand. + Once someone began whistling the refrain of the revolutionary song, but it + seemed as though that beginning was promptly suppressed. The corner was + dark and Graham could not see. He turned to the hall again. Above the + caryatids were marble busts of men whom that age esteemed great moral + emancipators and pioneers; for the most part their names were strange to + Graham, though he recognised Grant Allen, Le Gallienne, Nietzsche, Shelley + and Goodwin. Great black festoons and eloquent sentiments reinforced the + huge inscription that partially defaced the upper end of the dancing + place, and asserted that “The Festival of the Awakening” was + in progress. + </p> + <p> + “Myriads are taking holiday or staying from work because of that, + quite apart from the labourers who refuse to go back,” said Asano. + “These people are always ready for holidays.” + </p> + <p> + Graham walked to the parapet and stood leaning over, looking down at the + dancers. Save for two or three remote whispering couples, who had stolen + apart, he and his guide had the gallery to themselves. A warm breath of + scent and vitality came up to him. Both men and women below were lightly + clad, bare-armed, open-necked, as the universal warmth of the city + permitted. The hair of the men was often a mass of effeminate curls, their + chins were always shaven, and many of them had flushed or coloured cheeks. + Many of the women were very pretty, and all were dressed with elaborate + coquetry. As they swept by beneath, he saw ecstatic faces with eyes half + closed in pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of people are these?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Workers—prosperous workers. What you would have called the + middle class. Independent tradesmen with little separate businesses have + vanished long ago, but there are store servers, managers, engineers of a + hundred sorts. To-night is a holiday of course, and every dancing place in + the city will be crowded, and every place of worship.” + </p> + <p> + “But—the women?” + </p> + <p> + “The same. There’s a thousand forms of work for women now. But + you had the beginning of the independent working-woman in your days. Most + women are independent now. Most of these are married more or less—there + are a number of methods of contract—and that gives them more money, + and enables them to enjoy themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Graham, looking at the flushed faces, the flash + and swirl of movement, and still thinking of that nightmare of pink + helpless limbs. “And these are—mothers.” + </p> + <p> + “Most of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The more I see of these things the more complex I find your + problems. This, for instance, is a surprise. That news from Paris was a + surprise.” + </p> + <p> + In a little while he spoke again: + </p> + <p> + “These are mothers. Presently, I suppose, I shall get into the + modern way of seeing things. I have old habits of mind clinging about me—habits + based, I suppose, on needs that are over and done with. Of course, in our + time, a woman was supposed not only to bear children, but to cherish them, + to devote herself to them, to educate them—all the essentials of + moral and mental education a child owed its mother. Or went without. Quite + a number, I admit, went without. Nowadays, clearly, there is no more need + for such care than if they were butterflies. I see that! Only there was an + ideal—that figure of a grave, patient woman, silently and serenely + mistress of a home, mother and maker of men—to love her was a sort + of worship—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and repeated, “A sort of worship.” + </p> + <p> + “Ideals change,” said the little man, “as needs change.” + </p> + <p> + Graham awoke from an instant reverie and Asano repeated his words. Graham’s + mind returned to the thing at hand. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I see the perfect reasonableness of this. Restraint, + soberness, the matured thought, the unselfish act, they are necessities of + the barbarous state, the life of dangers. Dourness is man’s tribute + to unconquered nature. But man has conquered nature now for all practical + purposes—his political affairs are managed by Bosses with a black + police—and life is joyous.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the dancers again. “Joyous,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There are weary moments,” said the little officer, + reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “They all look young. Down there I should be visibly the oldest man. + And in my own time I should have passed as middle-aged.” + </p> + <p> + “They are young. There are few old people in this class in the work + cities.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Old people’s lives are not so pleasant as they used to be, + unless they are rich to hire lovers and helpers. And we have an + institution called Euthanasy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that Euthanasy!” said Graham. “The easy death?” + </p> + <p> + “The easy death. It is the last pleasure. The Euthanasy Company does + it well. People will pay the sum—it is a costly thing—long + beforehand, go off to some pleasure city and return impoverished and + weary, very weary.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a lot left for me to understand,” said Graham after + a pause. “Yet I see the logic of it all. Our array of angry virtues + and sour restraints was the consequence of danger and insecurity. The + Stoic, the Puritan, even in my time, were vanishing types. In the old days + man was armed against Pain, now he is eager for Pleasure. There lies the + difference. Civilisation has driven pain and danger so far off—for + well-to-do people. And only well-to-do people matter now. I have been + asleep two hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute they leant on the balustrading, following the intricate + evolution of the dance. Indeed the scene was very beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Before God,” said Graham, suddenly, “I would rather be + a wounded sentinel freezing in the snow than one of these painted fools!” + </p> + <p> + “In the snow,” said Asano, “one might think differently.” + </p> + <p> + “I am uncivilised,” said Graham, not heeding him. “That + is the trouble. I am primitive—Paleolithic. <i>Their</i> fountain of + rage and fear and anger is sealed and closed, the habits of a lifetime + make them cheerful and easy and delightful. You must bear with my + nineteenth century shocks and disgusts. These people, you say, are skilled + workers and so forth. And while these dance, men are fighting—men + are dying in Paris to keep the world—that they may dance.” + </p> + <p> + Asano smiled faintly. “For that matter, men are dying in London,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “Where do these sleep?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “Above and below—an intricate warren.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do they work? This is—the domestic life.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see little work to-night. Half the workers are out or + under arms. Half these people are keeping holiday. But we will go to the + work places if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + For a time Graham watched the dancers, then suddenly turned away. “I + want to see the workers. I have seen enough of these,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Asano led the way along the gallery across the dancing hall. Presently + they came to a transverse passage that brought a breath of fresher, colder + air. + </p> + <p> + Asano glanced at this passage as they went past, stopped, went back to it, + and turned to Graham with a smile. “Here, Sire,” he said, + “is something—will be familiar to you at least—and yet—. + But I will not tell you. Come!” + </p> + <p> + He led the way along a closed passage that presently became cold. The + reverberation of their feet told that this passage was a bridge. They came + into a circular gallery that was glazed in from the outer weather, and so + reached a circular chamber which seemed familiar, though Graham could not + recall distinctly when he had entered it before. In this was a ladder—the + first ladder he had seen since his awakening—up which they went, and + came into a high, dark, cold place in which was another almost vertical + ladder. This they ascended, Graham still perplexed. + </p> + <p> + But at the top he understood, and recognised the metallic bars to which he + clung. He was in the cage under the ball of St. Paul’s. The dome + rose but a little way above the general contour of the city, into the + still twilight, and sloped away, shining greasily under a few distant + lights, into a circumambient ditch of darkness. + </p> + <p> + Out between the bars he looked upon the wind-clear northern sky and saw + the starry constellations all unchanged. Capella hung in the west, Vega + was rising, and the seven glittering points of the Great Bear swept + overhead in their stately circle about the Pole. + </p> + <p> + He saw these stars in a clear gap of sky. To the east and south the great + circular shapes of complaining wind-wheels blotted out the heavens, so + that the glare about the Council House was hidden. To the southwest hung + Orion, showing like a pallid ghost through a tracery of iron-work and + interlacing shapes above a dazzling coruscation of lights. A bellowing and + siren screaming that came from the flying stages warned the world that one + of the aeroplanes was ready to start. He remained for a space gazing + towards the glaring stage. Then his eyes went back to the northward + constellations. + </p> + <p> + For a long time he was silent. “This,” he said at last, + smiling in the shadow, “seems the strangest thing of all. To stand + in the dome of St. Paul’s and look once more upon these familiar, + silent stars!” + </p> + <p> + Thence Graham was taken by Asano along devious ways to the great gambling + and business quarters where the bulk of the fortunes in the city were lost + and made. It impressed him as a well-nigh interminable series of very high + halls, surrounded by tiers upon tiers of galleries into which opened + thousands of offices, and traversed by a complicated multitude of bridges, + footways, aerial motor rails, and trapeze and cable leaps. And here more + than anywhere the note of vehement vitality, of uncontrollable, hasty + activity, rose high. Everywhere was violent advertisement, until his brain + swam at the tumult of light and colour. And Babble Machines of a + peculiarly rancid tone were abundant and filled the air with strenuous + squealing and an idiotic slang. “Skin your eyes and slide,” + “Gewhoop, Bonanza,” “Gollipers come and hark!” + </p> + <p> + The place seemed to him to be dense with people either profoundly agitated + or swelling with obscure cunning, yet he learnt that the place was + comparatively empty, that the great political convulsion of the last few + days had reduced transactions to an unprecedented minimum. In one huge + place were long avenues of roulette tables, each with an excited, + undignified crowd about it; in another a yelping Babel of white-faced + women and red-necked leathery-lunged men bought and sold the shares of an + absolutely fictitious business undertaking which, every five minutes, paid + a dividend of ten per cent, and cancelled a certain proportion of its + shares by means of a lottery wheel. + </p> + <p> + These business activities were prosecuted with an energy that readily + passed into violence, and Graham approaching a dense crowd found at its + centre a couple of prominent merchants in violent controversy with teeth + and nails on some delicate point of business etiquette. Something still + remained in life to be fought for. Further he had a shock at a vehement + announcement in phonetic letters of scarlet flame, each twice the height + of a man, that “WE ASSURE THE PROPRAIET’R. WE ASSURE THE + PROPRAIET’R.” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s the proprietor?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do they assure me?” he asked. “What do they + assure me?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you have assurance?” + </p> + <p> + Graham thought. “Insurance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Insurance. I remember that was the older word. They are + insuring your life. Dozands of people are taking out policies, myriads of + lions are being put on you. And further on other people are buying + annuities. They do that on everybody who is at all prominent. Look there!” + </p> + <p> + A crowd of people surged and roared, and Graham saw a vast black screen + suddenly illuminated in still larger letters of burning purple. “Anuetes + on the Propraiet’r—x 5 pr. G.” The people began to boo + and shout at this, a number of hard breathing, wild-eyed men came running + past, clawing with hooked fingers at the air. There was a furious crush + about a little doorway. + </p> + <p> + Asano did a brief, inaccurate calculation. “Seventeen per cent, per + annum is their annuity on you. They would not pay so much per cent, if + they could see you now, Sire. But they do not know. Your own annuities + used to be a very safe investment, but now you are sheer gambling, of + course. This is probably a desperate bid. I doubt if people will get their + money.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd of would-be annuitants grew so thick about them that for some + time they could move neither forward nor backward. Graham noticed what + appeared to him to be a high proportion of women among the speculators, + and was reminded again of the economic independence of their sex. They + seemed remarkably well able to take care of themselves in the crowd, using + their elbows with particular skill, as he learnt to his cost. One + curly-headed person caught in the pressure for a space, looked steadfastly + at him several times, almost as if she recognised him, and then, edging + deliberately towards him, touched his hand with her arm in a scarcely + accidental manner, and made it plain by a look as ancient as Chaldea that + he had found favour in her eyes. And then a lank, grey-bearded man, + perspiring copiously in a noble passion of self-help, blind to all earthly + things save that glaring bait, thrust between them in a cataclysmal rush + towards that alluring “X 5 pr. G.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get out of this,” said Graham to Asano. “This + is not what I came to see. Show me the workers. I want to see the people + in blue. These parasitic lunatics—” + </p> + <p> + He found himself wedged into a straggling mass of people. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — THE UNDER-SIDE + </h2> + <p> + From the Business Quarter they presently passed by the running ways into a + remote quarter of the city, where the bulk of the manufactures was done. + On their way the platforms crossed the Thames twice, and passed in a broad + viaduct across one of the great roads that entered the city from the + North. In both cases his impression was swift and in both very vivid. The + river was a broad wrinkled glitter of black sea water, overarched by + buildings, and vanishing either way into a blackness starred with receding + lights. A string of black barges passed seaward, manned by blue-clad men. + The road was a long and very broad and high tunnel, along which + big-wheeled machines drove noiselessly and swiftly. Here, too, the + distinctive blue of the Labour Department was in abundance. The smoothness + of the double tracks, the largeness and the lightness of the big pneumatic + wheels in proportion to the vehicular body, struck Graham most vividly. + One lank and very high carriage with longitudinal metallic rods hung with + the dripping carcasses of many hundred sheep arrested his attention + unduly. Abruptly the edge of the archway cut and blotted out the picture. + </p> + <p> + Presently they left the way and descended by a lift and traversed a + passage that sloped downward, and so came to a descending lift again. The + appearance of things changed. Even the pretence of architectural ornament + disappeared, the lights diminished in number and size, the architecture + became more and more massive in proportion to the spaces as the factory + quarters were reached. And in the dusty biscuit-making place of the + potters, among the felspar mills, in the furnace rooms of the metal + workers, among the incandescent lakes of crude Eadhamite, the blue canvas + clothing was on man, woman and child. + </p> + <p> + Many of these great and dusty galleries were silent avenues of machinery, + endless raked out ashen furnaces testified to the revolutionary + dislocation, but wherever there was work it was being done by slow-moving + workers in blue canvas. The only people not in blue canvas were the + overlookers of the work-places and the orange-clad Labour Police. And + fresh from the flushed faces of the dancing halls, the voluntary vigours + of the business quarter, Graham could note the pinched faces, the feeble + muscles, and weary eyes of many of the latter-day workers. Such as he saw + at work were noticeably inferior in physique to the few gaily dressed + managers and forewomen who were directing their labours. The burly + labourers of the old Victorian times had followed that dray horse and all + such living force producers, to extinction; the place of his costly + muscles was taken by some dexterous machine. The latter-day labourer, male + as well as female, was essentially a machine-minder and feeder, a servant + and attendant, or an artist under direction. + </p> + <p> + The women, in comparison with those Graham remembered, were as a class + distinctly plain and flat-chested. Two hundred years of emancipation from + the moral restraints of Puritanical religion, two hundred years of city + life, had done their work in eliminating the strain of feminine beauty and + vigour from the blue canvas myriads. To be brilliant physically or + mentally, to be in any way attractive or exceptional, had been and was + still a certain way of emancipation to the drudge, a line of escape to the + Pleasure City and its splendours and delights, and at last to the + Euthanasy and peace. To be steadfast against such inducements was scarcely + to be expected of meanly nourished souls. In the young cities of Graham’s + former life, the newly aggregated labouring mass had been a diverse + multitude, still stirred by the tradition of personal honour and a high + morality; now it was differentiating into an instinct class, with a moral + and physical difference of its own—even with a dialect of its own. + </p> + <p> + They penetrated downward, ever downward, towards the working places. + Presently they passed underneath one of the streets of the moving ways, + and saw its platforms running on their rails far overhead, and chinks of + white lights between the transverse slits. The factories that were not + working were sparsely lighted; to Graham they and their shrouded aisles of + giant machines seemed plunged in gloom, and even where work was going on + the illumination was far less brilliant than upon the public ways. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the blazing lakes of Eadhamite he came to the warren of the + jewellers, and, with some difficulty and by using his signature, obtained + admission to these galleries. They were high and dark, and rather cold. In + the first a few men were making ornaments of gold filigree, each man at a + little bench by himself, and with a little shaded light. The long vista of + light patches, with the nimble fingers brightly lit and moving among the + gleaming yellow coils, and the intent face like the face of a ghost, in + each shadow, had the oddest effect. + </p> + <p> + The work was beautifully executed, but without any strength of modelling + or drawing, for the most part intricate grotesques or the ringing of the + changes on a geometrical <i>motif</i>. These workers wore a peculiar white + uniform without pockets or sleeves. They assumed this on coming to work, + but at night they were stripped and examined before they left the premises + of the Department. In spite of every precaution, the Labour policeman told + them in a depressed tone, the Department was not infrequently robbed. + </p> + <p> + Beyond was a gallery of women busied in cutting and setting slabs of + artificial ruby, and next these were men and women working together upon + the slabs of copper net that formed the basis of <i>cloisonné</i> tiles. + Many of these workers had lips and nostrils a livid white, due to a + disease caused by a peculiar purple enamel that chanced to be much in + fashion. Asano apologised to Graham for this offensive sight, but excused + himself on the score of the convenience of this route. “This is what + I wanted to see,” said Graham; “this is what I wanted to see,” + trying to avoid a start at a particularly striking disfigurement. + </p> + <p> + “She might have done better with herself than that,” said + Asano. + </p> + <p> + Graham made some indignant comments. + </p> + <p> + “But, Sire, we simply could not stand that stuff without the purple,” + said Asano. “In your days people could stand such crudities, they + were nearer the barbaric by two hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + They continued along one of the lower galleries of this <i>cloisonné</i> + factory, and came to a little bridge that spanned a vault. Looking over + the parapet, Graham saw that beneath was a wharf under yet more tremendous + archings than any he had seen. Three barges, smothered in floury dust, + were being unloaded of their cargoes of powdered felspar by a multitude of + coughing men, each guiding a little truck; the dust filled the place with + a choking mist, and turned the electric glare yellow. The vague shadows of + these workers gesticulated about their feet, and rushed to and fro against + a long stretch of white-washed wall. Every now and then one would stop to + cough. + </p> + <p> + A shadowy, huge mass of masonry rising out of the inky water, brought to + Graham’s mind the thought of the multitude of ways and galleries and + lifts that rose floor above floor overhead between him and the sky. The + men worked in silence under the supervision of two of the Labour Police; + their feet made a hollow thunder on the planks along which they went to + and fro. And as he looked at this scene, some hidden voice in the darkness + began to sing. + </p> + <p> + “Stop that!” shouted one of the policemen, but the order was + disobeyed, and first one and then all the white-stained men who were + working there had taken up the beating refrain, singing it defiantly—the + Song of the Revolt. The feet upon the planks thundered now to the rhythm + of the song, tramp, tramp, tramp. The policeman who had shouted glanced at + his fellow, and Graham saw him shrug his shoulders. He made no further + effort to stop the singing. + </p> + <p> + And so they went through these factories and places of toil, seeing many + painful and grim things. That walk left on Graham’s mind a maze of + memories, fluctuating pictures of swathed halls, and crowded vaults seen + through clouds of dust, of intricate machines, the racing threads of + looms, the heavy beat of stamping machinery, the roar and rattle of belt + and armature, of ill-lit subterranean aisles of sleeping places, + illimitable vistas of pin-point lights. Here was the smell of tanning, and + here the reek of a brewery, and here unprecedented reeks. Everywhere were + pillars and cross archings of such a massiveness as Graham had never + before seen, thick Titans of greasy, shining brickwork crushed beneath the + vast weight of that complex city world, even as these anemic millions were + crushed by its complexity. And everywhere were pale features, lean limbs, + disfigurement and degradation. + </p> + <p> + Once and again, and again a third time, Graham heard the song of the + revolt during his long, unpleasant research in these places, and once he + saw a confused struggle down a passage, and learnt that a number of these + serfs had seized their bread before their work was done. Graham was + ascending towards the ways again when he saw a number of blue-clad + children running down a transverse passage, and presently perceived the + reason of their panic in a company of the Labour Police armed with clubs, + trotting towards some unknown disturbance. And then came a remote + disorder. But for the most part this remnant that worked, worked + hopelessly. All the spirit that was left in fallen humanity was above in + the streets that night, calling for the Master, and valiantly and noisily + keeping its arms. + </p> + <p> + They emerged from these wanderings and stood blinking in the bright light + of the middle passage of the platforms again. They became aware of the + remote hooting and yelping of the machines of one of the General + Intelligence Offices, and suddenly came men running, and along the + platforms and about the ways everywhere was a shouting and crying. Then a + woman with a face of mute white terror, and another who gasped and + shrieked as she ran. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened now?” said Graham, puzzled, for he could + not understand their thick speech. Then he heard it in English and + perceived that the thing that everyone was shouting, that men yelled to + one another, that women took up screaming, that was passing like the first + breeze of a thunderstorm, chill and sudden through the city, was this: + “Ostrog has ordered the Black Police to London. The Black Police are + coming from South Africa.... The Black Police. The Black Police.” + </p> + <p> + Asano’s face was white and astonished; he hesitated, looked at + Graham’s face, and told him the thing he already knew. “But + how can they know?” asked Asano. + </p> + <p> + Graham heard someone shouting. “Stop all work. Stop all work,” + and a swarthy hunchback, ridiculously gay in green and gold, came leaping + down the platforms toward him, bawling again and again in good English, + “This is Ostrog’s doing, Ostrog the Knave! The Master is + betrayed.” His voice was hoarse and a thin foam dropped from his + ugly shouting mouth. He yelled an unspeakable horror that the Black Police + had done in Paris, and so passed shrieking, “Ostrog the Knave!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Graham stood still, for it had come upon him again that these + things were a dream. He looked up at the great cliff of buildings on + either side, vanishing into blue haze at last above the lights, and down + to the roaring tiers of platforms, and the shouting, running people who + were gesticulating past. “The Master is betrayed!” they cried. + “The Master is betrayed!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the situation shaped itself in his mind real and urgent. His + heart began to beat fast and strong. + </p> + <p> + “It has come,” he said. “I might have known. The hour + has come.” + </p> + <p> + He thought swiftly. “What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the Council House,” said Asano. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not appeal—? The people are here.” + </p> + <p> + “You will lose time. They will doubt if it is you. But they will + mass about the Council House. There you will find their leaders. Your + strength is there—with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose this is only a rumour?” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds true,” said Asano. + </p> + <p> + “Let us have the facts,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + Asano shrugged his shoulders. “We had better get towards the Council + House,” he cried. “That is where they will swarm. Even now the + ruins may be impassable.” + </p> + <p> + Graham regarded him doubtfully and followed him. + </p> + <p> + They went up the stepped platforms to the swiftest one, and there Asano + accosted a labourer. The answers to his questions were in the thick, + vulgar speech. + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “He knows little, but he told me that the Black Police would have + arrived here before the people knew—had not someone in the Wind-Vane + Offices learnt. He said a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl? Not—?” + </p> + <p> + “He said a girl—he did not know who she was. Who came out from + the Council House crying aloud, and told the men at work among the ruins.” + </p> + <p> + And then another thing was shouted, something that turned an aimless + tumult into determinate movements, it came like a wind along the street. + “To your wards, to your wards. Every man get arms. Every man to his + ward!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — THE STRUGGLE IN THE COUNCIL HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + As Asano and Graham hurried along to the ruins about the Council House, + they saw everywhere the excitement of the people rising. “To your + wards! To your wards!” Everywhere men and women in blue were + hurrying from unknown subterranean employments, up the staircases of the + middle path; at one place Graham saw an arsenal of the revolutionary + committee besieged by a crowd of shouting men, at another a couple of men + in the hated yellow uniform of the Labour Police, pursued by a gathering + crowd, fled precipitately along the swift way that went in the opposite + direction. + </p> + <p> + The cries of “To your wards!” became at last a continuous + shouting as they drew near the Government quarter. Many of the shouts were + unintelligible. “Ostrog has betrayed us,” one man bawled in a + hoarse voice, again and again, dinning that refrain into Graham’s + ear until it haunted him. This person stayed close beside Graham and Asano + on the swift way, shouting to the people who swarmed on the lower + platforms as he rushed past them. His cry about Ostrog alternated with + some incomprehensible orders. Presently he went leaping down and + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Graham’s mind was filled with the din. His plans were vague and + unformed. He had one picture of some commanding position from which he + could address the multitudes, another of meeting Ostrog face to face. He + was full of rage, of tense muscular excitement, his hands gripped, his + lips were pressed together. + </p> + <p> + The way to the Council House across the ruins was impassable, but Asano + met that difficulty and took Graham into the premises of the central + post-office. The post-office was nominally at work, but the blue-clothed + porters moved sluggishly or had stopped to stare through the arches of + their galleries at the shouting men who were going by outside. “Every + man to his ward! Every man to his ward!” Here, by Asano’s + advice, Graham revealed his identity. + </p> + <p> + They crossed to the Council House by a cable cradle. Already in the brief + interval since the capitulation of the Councillors a great change had been + wrought in the appearance of the ruins. The spurting cascades of the + ruptured sea-water mains had been captured and tamed, and huge temporary + pipes ran overhead along a flimsy looking fabric of girders. The sky was + laced with restored cables and wires that served the Council House, and a + mass of new fabric with cranes and other building machines going to and + fro upon it projected to the left of the white pile. + </p> + <p> + The moving ways that ran across this area had been restored, albeit for + once running under the open sky. These were the ways that Graham had seen + from the little balcony in the hour of his awakening, not nine days since, + and the hall of his Trance had been on the further side, where now + shapeless piles of smashed and shattered masonry were heaped together. + </p> + <p> + It was already high day and the sun was shining brightly. Out of their + tall caverns of blue electric light came the swift ways crowded with + multitudes of people, who poured off them and gathered ever denser over + the wreckage and confusion of the ruins. The air was full of their + shouting, and they were pressing and swaying towards the central building. + For the most part that shouting mass consisted of shapeless swarms, but + here and there Graham could see that a rude discipline struggled to + establish itself. And every voice clamoured for order in the chaos. + “To your wards! Every man to his ward!” + </p> + <p> + The cable carried them into a hall which Graham recognised as the + ante-chamber to the Hall of the Atlas, about the gallery of which he had + walked days ago with Howard to show himself to the Vanished Council, an + hour from his awakening. Now the place was empty except for two cable + attendants. These men seemed hugely astonished to recognise the Sleeper in + the man who swung down from the cross seat. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Ostrog?” he demanded. “I must see Ostrog + forthwith. He has disobeyed me. I have come back to take things out of his + hands.” Without waiting for Asano, he went straight across the + place, ascended the steps at the further end, and, pulling the curtain + aside, found himself facing the perpetually labouring Titan. + </p> + <p> + The hall was empty. Its appearance had changed very greatly since his + first sight of it. It had suffered serious injury in the violent struggle + of the first outbreak. On the right hand side of the great figure the + upper half of the wall had been torn away for nearly two hundred feet of + its length, and a sheet of the same glassy film that had enclosed Graham + at his awakening had been drawn across the gap. This deadened, but did not + altogether exclude the roar of the people outside. “Wards! Wards! + Wards!” they seemed to be saying. Through it there were visible the + beams and supports of metal scaffoldings that rose and fell according to + the requirements of a great crowd of workmen. An idle building machine, + with lank arms of red painted metal stretched gauntly across this green + tinted picture. On it were still a number of workmen staring at the crowd + below. For a moment he stood regarding these things, and Asano overtook + him. + </p> + <p> + “Ostrog,” said Asano, “will be in the small offices + beyond there.” The little man looked livid now and his eyes searched + Graham’s face. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely advanced ten paces from the curtain before a little + panel to the left of the Atlas rolled up, and Ostrog, accompanied by + Lincoln and followed by two black and yellow clad negroes, appeared + crossing the remote corner of the hall, towards a second panel that was + raised and open. “Ostrog,” shouted Graham, and at the sound of + his voice the little party turned astonished. + </p> + <p> + Ostrog said something to Lincoln and advanced alone. + </p> + <p> + Graham was the first to speak. His voice was loud and dictatorial. “What + is this I hear?” he asked. “Are you bringing negroes here—to + keep the people down?” + </p> + <p> + “It is none too soon,” said Ostrog. “They have been + getting out of hand more and more, since the revolt. I under-estimated—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that these infernal negroes are on the way?” + </p> + <p> + “On the way. As it is, you have seen the people—outside?” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder! But—after what was said. You have taken too much + on yourself, Ostrog.” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog said nothing, but drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + “These negroes must not come to London,” said Graham. “I + am Master and they shall not come.” + </p> + <p> + Ostrog glanced at Lincoln, who at once came towards them with his two + attendants close behind him. “Why not?” asked Ostrog. + </p> + <p> + “White men must be mastered by white men. Besides—” + </p> + <p> + “The negroes are only an instrument.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not the question. I am the Master. I mean to be the + Master. And I tell you these negroes shall not come.” + </p> + <p> + “The people—” + </p> + <p> + “I believe in the people.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are an anachronism. You are a man out of the Past—an + accident. You are Owner perhaps of the world. Nominally—legally. But + you are not Master. You do not know enough to be Master.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at Lincoln again. “I know now what you think—I can + guess something of what you mean to do. Even now it is not too late to + warn you. You dream of human equality—of some sort of socialistic + order—you have all those worn-out dreams of the nineteenth century + fresh and vivid in your mind, and you would rule this age that you do not + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said Graham. “You can hear it—a sound + like the sea. Not voices—but a voice. Do <i>you</i> altogether + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “We taught them that,” said Ostrog. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. Can you teach them to forget it? But enough of this! These + negroes must not come.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause and Ostrog looked him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “They will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I forbid it,” said Graham. + </p> + <p> + “They have started.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not have it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ostrog. “Sorry as I am to follow the method + of the Council—. For your own good—you must not side with—Disorder. + And now that you are here—. It was kind of you to come here.” + </p> + <p> + Lincoln laid his hand on Graham’s shoulder. Abruptly Graham realised + the enormity of his blunder in coming to the Council House. He turned + towards the curtains that separated the hall from the ante-chamber. The + clutching hand of Asano intervened. In another moment Lincoln had grasped + Graham’s cloak. + </p> + <p> + He turned and struck at Lincoln’s face, and incontinently a negro + had him by collar and arm. He wrenched himself away, his sleeve tore + noisily, and he stumbled back, to be tripped by the other attendant. Then + he struck the ground heavily and he was staring at the distant ceiling of + the hall. + </p> + <p> + He shouted, rolled over, struggling fiercely, clutched an attendant’s + leg and threw him headlong, and struggled to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Lincoln appeared before him, went down heavily again with a blow under the + point of the jaw and lay still. Graham made two strides, stumbled. And + then Ostrog’s arm was round his neck, he was pulled over backward, + fell heavily, and his arms were pinned to the ground. After a few violent + efforts he ceased to struggle and lay staring at Ostrog’s heaving + throat. + </p> + <p> + “You—are—a prisoner,” panted Ostrog, exulting. + “You—were rather a fool—to come back.” + </p> + <p> + Graham turned his head about and perceived through the irregular green + window in the walls of the hall the men who had been working the building + cranes gesticulating excitedly to the people below them. They had seen! + </p> + <p> + Ostrog followed his eyes and started. He shouted something to Lincoln, but + Lincoln did not move. A bullet smashed among the mouldings above the + Atlas. The two sheets of transparent matter that had been stretched across + this gap were rent, the edges of the torn aperture darkened, curved, ran + rapidly towards the framework, and in a moment the Council chamber stood + open to the air. A chilly gust blew in by the gap, bringing with it a war + of voices from the ruinous spaces without, an elvish babblement, “Save + the Master!” “What are they doing to the Master?” + “The Master is betrayed!” + </p> + <p> + And then he realised that Ostrog’s attention was distracted, that + Ostrog’s grip had relaxed, and, wrenching his arms free, he + struggled to his knees. In another moment he had thrust Ostrog back, and + he was on one foot, his hand gripping Ostrog’s throat, and Ostrog’s + hands clutching the silk about his neck. + </p> + <p> + But now men were coming towards them from the dais—men whose + intentions he misunderstood. He had a glimpse of someone running in the + distance towards the curtains of the antechamber, and then Ostrog had + slipped from him and these newcomers were upon him. To his infinite + astonishment, they seized him. They obeyed the shouts of Ostrog. + </p> + <p> + He was lugged a dozen yards before he realised that they were not friends—that + they were dragging him towards the open panel. When he saw this he pulled + back, he tried to fling himself down, he shouted for help with all his + strength. And this time there were answering cries. + </p> + <p> + The grip upon his neck relaxed, and behold! in the lower corner of the + rent upon the wall, first one and then a number of little black figures + appeared shouting and waving arms. They came leaping down from the gap + into the light gallery that had led to the Silent Rooms. They ran along + it, so near were they that Graham could see the weapons in their hands. + Then Ostrog was shouting in his ear to the men who held him, and once more + he was struggling with all his strength against their endeavours to thrust + him towards the opening that yawned to receive him. “They can’t + come down,” panted Ostrog. “They daren’t fire. It’s + all right. We’ll save him from them yet.” + </p> + <p> + For long minutes as it seemed to Graham that inglorious struggle + continued. His clothes were rent in a dozen places, he was covered in + dust, one hand had been trodden upon. He could hear the shouts of his + supporters, and once he heard shots. He could feel his strength giving + way, feel his efforts wild and aimless. But no help came, and surely, + irresistibly, that black, yawning opening came nearer. + </p> + <p> + The pressure upon him relaxed and he struggled up. He saw Ostrog’s + grey head receding and perceived that he was no longer held. He turned + about and came full into a man in black. One of the green weapons cracked + close to him, a drift of pungent smoke came into his face, and a steel + blade flashed. The huge chamber span about him. + </p> + <p> + He saw a man in pale blue stabbing one of the black and yellow attendants + not three yards from his face. Then hands were upon him again. + </p> + <p> + He was being pulled in two directions now. It seemed as though people were + shouting to him. He wanted to understand and could not. Someone was + clutching about his thighs, he was being hoisted in spite of his vigorous + efforts. He understood suddenly, he ceased to struggle. He was lifted up + on men’s shoulders and carried away from that devouring panel. Ten + thousand throats were cheering. + </p> + <p> + He saw men in blue and black hurrying after the retreating Ostrogites and + firing. Lifted up, he saw now across the whole expanse of the hall beneath + the Atlas image, saw that he was being carried towards the raised platform + in the centre of the place. The far end of the hall was already full of + people running towards him. They were looking at him and cheering. + </p> + <p> + He became aware that a bodyguard surrounded him. Active men about him + shouted vague orders. He saw close at hand the black moustached man in + yellow who had been among those who had greeted him in the public theatre, + shouting directions. The hall was already densely packed with swaying + people, the little metal gallery sagged with a shouting load, the curtains + at the end had been torn away, and the antechamber was revealed densely + crowded. He could scarcely make the man near him hear for the tumult about + them. “Where has Ostrog gone?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man he questioned pointed over the heads towards the lower panels + about the hall on the side opposite the gap. They stood open, and armed + men, blue clad with black sashes, were running through them and vanishing + into the chambers and passages beyond. It seemed to Graham that a sound of + firing drifted through the riot. He was carried in a staggering curve + across the great hall towards an opening beneath the gap. + </p> + <p> + He perceived men working with a sort of rude discipline to keep the crowd + off him, to make a space clear about him. He passed out of the hall, and + saw a crude, new wall rising blankly before him topped by blue sky. He was + swung down to his feet; someone gripped his arm and guided him. He found + the man in yellow close at hand. They were taking him up a narrow stairway + of brick, and close at hand rose the great red painted masses, the cranes + and levers and the still engines of the big building machine. + </p> + <p> + He was at the top of the steps. He was hurried across a narrow railed + footway, and suddenly with a vast shouting the amphitheatre of ruins + opened again before him. “The Master is with us! The Master! The + Master!” The shout swept athwart the lake of faces like a wave, + broke against the distant cliff of ruins, and came back in a welter of + cries. “The Master is on our side!” + </p> + <p> + Graham perceived that he was no longer encompassed by people, that he was + standing upon a little temporary platform of white metal, part of a flimsy + seeming scaffolding that laced about the great mass of the Council House. + Over all the huge expanse of the ruins swayed and eddied the shouting + people; and here and there the black banners of the revolutionary + societies ducked and swayed and formed rare nuclei of organisation in the + chaos. Up the steep stairs of wall and scaffolding by which his rescuers + had reached the opening in the Atlas Chamber clung a solid crowd, and + little energetic black figures clinging to pillars and projections were + strenuous to induce these congested, masses to stir. Behind him, at a + higher point on the scaffolding, a number of men struggled upwards with + the flapping folds of a huge black standard. Through the yawning gap in + the walls below him he could look down upon the packed attentive + multitudes in the Hall of the Atlas. The distant flying stages to the + south came out bright and vivid, brought nearer as it seemed by an unusual + translucency of the air. A solitary monoplane beat up from the central + stage as if to meet the coming aeroplanes. + </p> + <p> + “What has become of Ostrog?” asked Graham, and even as he + spoke he saw that all eyes were turned from him towards the crest of the + Council House building. He looked also in this direction of universal + attention. For a moment he saw nothing but the jagged corner of a wall, + hard and clear against the sky. Then in the shadow he perceived the + interior of a room and recognised with a start the green and white + decorations of his former prison. And coming quickly across this opened + room and up to the very verge of the cliff of the ruins came a little + white clad figure followed by two other smaller seeming figures in black + and yellow. He heard the man beside him exclaim “Ostrog,” and + turned to ask a question. But he never did, because of the startled + exclamation of another of those who were with him and a lank finger + suddenly pointing. He looked, and behold! the monoplane that had been + rising from the flying stage when last he had looked in that direction, + was driving towards them. The swift steady flight was still novel enough + to hold his attention. + </p> + <p> + Nearer it came, growing rapidly larger and larger, until it had swept over + the further edge of the ruins and into view of the dense multitudes below. + It drooped across the space and rose and passed overhead, rising to clear + the mass of the Council House, a filmy translucent shape with the solitary + aeronaut peering down through its ribs. It vanished beyond the skyline of + the ruins. + </p> + <p> + Graham transferred his attention to Ostrog. He was signalling with his + hands, and his attendants were busy breaking down the wall beside him. In + another moment the monoplane came into view again, a little thing far + away, coming round in a wide curve and going slower. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the man in yellow shouted: “What are they doing? What + are the people doing? Why is Ostrog left there? Why is he not captured? + They will lift him—the monoplane will lift him! Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The exclamation was echoed by a shout from the ruins. The rattling sound + of the green weapons drifted across the intervening gulf to Graham, and, + looking down, he saw a number of black and yellow uniforms running along + one of the galleries that lay open to the air below the promontory upon + which Ostrog stood. They fired as they ran at men unseen, and then emerged + a number of pale blue figures in pursuit. These minute fighting figures + had the oddest effect; they seemed as they ran like little model soldiers + in a toy. This queer appearance of a house cut open gave that struggle + amidst furniture and passages a quality of unreality. It was perhaps two + hundred yards away from him, and very nearly fifty above the heads in the + ruins below. The black and yellow men ran into an open archway, and turned + and fired a volley. One of the blue pursuers striding forward close to the + edge, flung up his arms, staggered sideways, seemed to Graham’s + sense to hang over the edge for several seconds, and fell headlong down. + Graham saw him strike a projecting corner, fly out, head over heels, head + over heels, and vanish behind the red arm of the building machine. + </p> + <p> + And then a shadow came between Graham and the sun. He looked up and the + sky was clear, but he knew the little monoplane had passed. Ostrog had + vanished. The man in yellow thrust before him, zealous and perspiring, + pointing and blatant. + </p> + <p> + “They are grounding!” cried the man in yellow. “They are + grounding. Tell the people to fire at him. Tell them to fire at him!” + </p> + <p> + Graham could not understand. He heard loud voices repeating these + enigmatical orders. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he saw the prow of the monoplane come gliding over the edge of + the ruins and stop with a jerk. In a moment Graham understood that the + thing had grounded in order that Ostrog might escape by it. He saw a blue + haze climbing out of the gulf, perceived that the people below him were + now firing up at the projecting stem. + </p> + <p> + A man beside him cheered hoarsely, and he saw that the blue rebels had + gained the archway that had been contested by the men in black and yellow + a moment before, and were running in a continual stream along the open + passage. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the monoplane slipped over the edge of the Council House and + fell like a diving swallow. It dropped, tilting at an angle of forty-five + degrees, so steeply that it seemed to Graham, it seemed perhaps to most of + those below, that it could not possibly rise again. + </p> + <p> + It fell so closely past him that he could see Ostrog clutching the guides + of the seat, with his grey hair streaming; see the white-faced aeronaut + wrenching over the lever that turned the machine upward. He heard the + apprehensive vague cry of innumerable men below. + </p> + <p> + Graham clutched the railing before him and gasped. The second seemed an + age. The lower vane of the monoplane passed within an ace of touching the + people, who yelled and screamed and trampled one another below. + </p> + <p> + And then it rose. + </p> + <p> + For a moment it looked as if it could not possibly clear the opposite + cliff, and then that it could not possibly clear the wind-wheel that + rotated beyond. + </p> + <p> + And behold! it was clear and soaring, still heeling sideways, upward, + upward into the wind-swept sky. + </p> + <p> + The suspense of the moment gave place to a fury of exasperation as the + swarming people realised that Ostrog had escaped them. With belated + activity they renewed their fire, until the rattling wove into a roar, + until the whole area became dim and blue and the air pungent with the thin + smoke of their weapons. + </p> + <p> + Too late! The flying machine dwindled smaller and smaller, and curved + about and swept gracefully downward to the flying stage from which it had + so lately risen. Ostrog had escaped. + </p> + <p> + For a while a confused babblement arose from the ruins, and then the + universal attention came back to Graham, perched high among the + scaffolding. He saw the faces of the people turned towards him, heard + their shouts at his rescue. From the throat of the ways came the song of + the revolt spreading like a breeze across that swaying sea of men. + </p> + <p> + The little group of men about him shouted congratulations on his escape. + The man in yellow was close to him, with a set face and shining eyes. And + the song was rising, louder and louder; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the realisation came of the full meaning of these things to him, + the perception of the swift change in his position. Ostrog, who had stood + beside him whenever he had faced that shouting multitude before, was + beyond there—the antagonist. There was no one to rule for him any + longer. Even the people about him, the leaders and organisers of the + multitude, looked to see what he would do, looked to him to act, awaited + his orders. He was king indeed. His puppet reign was at an end. + </p> + <p> + He was very intent to do the thing that was expected of him. His nerves + and muscles were quivering, his mind was perhaps a little confused, but he + felt neither fear nor anger. His hand that had been trodden upon throbbed + and was hot. He was a little nervous about his bearing. He knew he was not + afraid, but he was anxious not to seem afraid. In his former life he had + often been more excited in playing games of skill. He was desirous of + immediate action, he knew he must not think too much in detail of the huge + complexity of the struggle about him lest be should be paralysed by the + sense of its intricacy. + </p> + <p> + Over there those square blue shapes, the flying stages, meant Ostrog; + against Ostrog, who was so clear and definite and decisive, he who was so + vague and undecided, was fighting for the whole future of the world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — GRAHAM SPEAKS HIS WORD + </h2> + <p> + For a time the Master of the Earth was not even master of his own mind. + Even his will seemed a will not his own, his own acts surprised him and + were but a part of the confusion of strange experiences that poured across + his being. These things were definite, the negroes were coming, Helen + Wotton had warned the people of their coming, and he was Master of the + Earth. Each of these facts seemed struggling for complete possession of + his thoughts. They protruded from a background of swarming halls, elevated + passages, rooms jammed with ward leaders in council, kinematograph and + telephone rooms, and windows looking out on a seething sea of marching + men. The men in yellow, and men whom he fancied were called Ward Leaders, + were either propelling him forward or following him obediently; it was + hard to tell. Perhaps they were doing a little of both. Perhaps some power + unseen and unsuspected propelled them all. He was aware that he was going + to make a proclamation to the People of the Earth, aware of certain + grandiose phrases floating in his mind as the thing he meant to say. Many + little things happened, and then he found himself with the man in yellow + entering a little room where this proclamation of his was to be made. + </p> + <p> + This room was grotesquely latter-day in its appointments. In the centre + was a bright oval lit by shaded electric lights from above. The rest was + in shadow, and the double finely fitting doors through which he came from + the swarming Hall of the Atlas made the place very still. The dead thud of + these as they closed behind him, the sudden cessation of the tumult in + which he had been living for hours, the quivering circle of light, the + whispers and quick noiseless movements of vaguely visible attendants in + the shadows, had a strange effect upon Graham. The huge ears of a + phonographic mechanism gaped in a battery for his words, the black eyes of + great photographic cameras awaited his beginning, beyond metal rods and + coils glittered dimly, and something whirled about with a droning hum. He + walked into the centre of the light, and his shadow drew together black + and sharp to a little blot at his feet. + </p> + <p> + The vague shape of the thing he meant to say was already in his mind. But + this silence, this isolation, the withdrawal from that contagious crowd, + this audience of gaping, glaring machines, had not been in his + anticipation. All his supports seemed withdrawn together; he seemed to + have dropped into this suddenly, suddenly to have discovered himself. In a + moment he was changed. He found that he now feared to be inadequate, he + feared to be theatrical, he feared the quality of his voice, the quality + of his wit; astonished, he turned to the man in yellow with a propitiatory + gesture. “For a moment,” he said, “I must wait. I did + not think it would be like this. I must think of the thing I have to say.” + </p> + <p> + While he was still hesitating there came an agitated messenger with news + that the foremost aeroplanes were passing over Madrid. + </p> + <p> + “What news of the flying stages?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The people of the south-west wards are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Ready!” + </p> + <p> + He turned impatiently to the blank circles of the lenses again. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must be a sort of speech. Would to God I knew + certainly the thing that should be said! Aeroplanes at Madrid! They must + have started before the main fleet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what can it matter whether I speak well or ill?” he said, + and felt the light grow brighter. + </p> + <p> + He had framed some vague sentence of democratic sentiment when suddenly + doubts overwhelmed him. His belief in his heroic quality and calling he + found had altogether lost its assured conviction. The picture of a little + strutting futility in a windy waste of incomprehensible destinies replaced + it. Abruptly it was perfectly clear to him that this revolt against Ostrog + was premature, foredoomed to failure, the impulse of passionate inadequacy + against inevitable things. He thought of that swift flight of aeroplanes + like the swoop of Fate towards him. He was astonished that he could have + seen things in any other light. In that final emergency he debated, thrust + debate resolutely aside, determined at all costs to go through with the + thing he had undertaken. And he could find no word to begin. Even as he + stood, awkward, hesitating, with an indiscreet apology for his inability + trembling on his lips, came the noise of many people crying out, the + running to and fro of feet. “Wait,” cried someone, and a door + opened. Graham turned, and the watching lights waned. + </p> + <p> + Through the open doorway he saw a slight girlish figure approaching. His + heart leapt. It was Helen Wotton. The man in yellow came out of the nearer + shadows into the circle of light. + </p> + <p> + “This is the girl who told us what Ostrog had done,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She came in very quietly, and stood still, as if she did not want to + interrupt Graham’s eloquence.... But his doubts and questionings + fled before her presence. He remembered the things that he had meant to + say. He faced the cameras again and the light about him grew brighter. He + turned back to her. + </p> + <p> + “You have helped me,” he said lamely—“helped me + very much.... This is very difficult.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. He addressed himself to the unseen multitudes who stared upon + him through those grotesque black eyes. At first he spoke slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Men and women of the new age,” he said; “you have + arisen to do battle for the race!... There is no easy victory before us.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped to gather words. He wished passionately for the gift of moving + speech. + </p> + <p> + “This night is a beginning,” he said. “This battle that + is coming, this battle that rushes upon us to-night, is only a beginning. + All your lives, it may be, you must fight. Take no thought though I am + beaten, though I am utterly overthrown. I think I may be overthrown.” + </p> + <p> + He found the thing in his mind too vague for words. He paused momentarily, + and broke into vague exhortations, and then a rush of speech came upon + him. Much that he said was but the humanitarian commonplace of a vanished + age, but the conviction of his voice touched it to vitality. He stated the + case of the old days to the people of the new age, to the girl at his + side. + </p> + <p> + “I come out of the past to you,” he said, “with the + memory of an age that hoped. My age was an age of dreams—of + beginnings, an age of noble hopes; throughout the world we had made an end + of slavery; throughout the world we had spread the desire and anticipation + that wars might cease, that all men and women might live nobly, in freedom + and peace.... So we hoped in the days that are past. And what of those + hopes? How is it with man after two hundred years? + </p> + <p> + “Great cities, vast powers, a collective greatness beyond our + dreams. For that we did not work, and that has come. But how is it with + the little lives that make up this greater life? How is it with the common + lives? As it has ever been—sorrow and labour, lives cramped and + unfulfilled, lives tempted by power, tempted by wealth, and gone to waste + and folly. The old faiths have faded and changed, the new faith—. Is + there a new faith? + </p> + <p> + “Charity and mercy,” he floundered; “beauty and the love + of beautiful things—effort and devotion! Give yourselves as I would + give myself—as Christ gave Himself upon the Cross. It does not + matter if you understand. It does not matter if you seem to fail. You <i>know</i>—in + the core of your hearts you <i>know</i>. There is no promise, there is no + security—nothing to go upon but Faith. There is no faith but faith—faith + which is courage....” + </p> + <p> + Things that he had long wished to believe, he found that he believed. He + spoke gustily, in broken incomplete sentences, but with all his heart and + strength, of this new faith within him. He spoke of the greatness of + self-abnegation, of his belief in an immortal life of Humanity in which we + live and move and have our being. His voice rose and fell, and the + recording appliances hummed as he spoke, dim attendants watched him out of + the shadow.... + </p> + <p> + His sense of that silent spectator beside him sustained his sincerity. For + a few glorious moments he was carried away; he felt no doubt of his heroic + quality, no doubt of his heroic words, he had it all straight and plain. + His eloquence limped no longer. And at last he made an end to speaking. + “Here and now,” he cried, “I make my will. All that is + mine in the world I give to the people of the world. All that is mine in + the world I give to the people of the world. To all of you. I give it to + you, and myself I give to you. And as God wills to-night, I will live for + you, or I will die.” + </p> + <p> + He ended. He found the light of his present exaltation reflected in the + face of the girl. Their eyes met; her eyes were swimming with tears of + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “I knew,” she whispered. “Oh! Father of the World—<i>Sire</i>! + I knew you would say these things....” + </p> + <p> + “I have said what I could,” he answered lamely and grasped and + clung to her outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — WHILE THE AEROPLANES WERE COMING + </h2> + <p> + The man in yellow was beside them. Neither had noted his coming. He was + saying that the south-west wards were marching. “I never expected it + so soon,” he cried. “They have done wonders. You must send + them a word to help them on their way.” + </p> + <p> + Graham stared at him absent-mindedly. Then with a start he returned to his + previous preoccupation about the flying stages. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “That is good, that is good.” He + weighed a message. “Tell them;—well done South West.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his eyes to Helen Wotton again. His face expressed his struggle + between conflicting ideas. “We must capture the flying stages,” + he explained. “Unless we can do that they will land negroes. At all + costs we must prevent that.” + </p> + <p> + He felt even as he spoke that this was not what had been in his mind + before the interruption. He saw a touch of surprise in her eyes. She + seemed about to speak and a shrill bell drowned her voice. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Graham that she expected him to lead these marching people, + that that was the thing he had to do. He made the offer abruptly. He + addressed the man in yellow, but he spoke to her. He saw her face respond. + “Here I am doing nothing,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” protested the man in yellow. “It is + a fight in a warren. Your place is here.” + </p> + <p> + He explained elaborately. He motioned towards the room where Graham must + wait, he insisted no other course was possible. “We must know where + you are,” he said. “At any moment a crisis may arise needing + your presence and decision.” + </p> + <p> + A picture had drifted through his mind of such a vast dramatic struggle as + the masses in the ruins had suggested. But here was no spectacular + battle-field such as he imagined. Instead was seclusion—and + suspense. It was only as the afternoon wore on that he pieced together a + truer picture of the fight that was raging, inaudibly and invisibly, + within four miles of him, beneath the Roehampton stage. A strange and + unprecedented contest it was, a battle that was a hundred thousand little + battles, a battle in a sponge of ways and channels, fought out of sight of + sky or sun under the electric glare, fought out in a vast confusion by + multitudes untrained in arms, led chiefly by acclamation, multitudes + dulled by mindless labour and enervated by the tradition of two hundred + years of servile security against multitudes demoralised by lives of + venial privilege and sensual indulgence. They had no artillery, no + differentiation into this force or that; the only weapon on either side + was the little green metal carbine, whose secret manufacture and sudden + distribution in enormous quantities had been one of Ostrog’s + culminating moves against the Council. Few had had any experience with + this weapon, many had never discharged one, many who carried it came + unprovided with ammunition; never was wilder firing in the history of + warfare. It was a battle of amateurs, a hideous experimental warfare, + armed rioters fighting armed rioters, armed rioters swept forward by the + words and fury of a song, by the tramping sympathy of their numbers, + pouring in countless myriads towards the smaller ways, the disabled lifts, + the galleries slippery with blood, the halls and passages choked with + smoke, beneath the flying stages, to learn there when retreat was hopeless + the ancient mysteries of warfare. And overhead save for a few + sharpshooters upon the roof spaces and for a few bands and threads of + vapour that multiplied and darkened towards the evening, the day was a + clear serenity. Ostrog it seems had no bombs at command and in all the + earlier phases of the battle the flying machines played no part. Not the + smallest cloud was there to break the empty brilliance of the sky. It + seemed as though it held itself vacant until the aeroplanes should come. + </p> + <p> + Ever and again there was news of these, drawing nearer, from this Spanish + town and then that, and presently from France. But of the new guns that + Ostrog had made and which were known to be in the city came no news in + spite of Graham’s urgency, nor any report of successes from the + dense felt of fighting strands about the flying stages. Section after + section of the Labour-Societies reported itself assembled, reported itself + marching, and vanished from knowledge into the labyrinth of that warfare. + What was happening there? Even the busy ward leaders did not know. In + spite of the opening and closing of doors, the hasty messengers, the + ringing of bells and the perpetual clitter-clack of recording implements, + Graham felt isolated, strangely inactive, inoperative. + </p> + <p> + His isolation seemed at times the strangest, the most unexpected of all + the things that had happened since his awakening. It had something of the + quality of that inactivity that comes in dreams. A tumult, the stupendous + realisation of a world struggle between Ostrog and himself, and then this + confined quiet little room with its mouthpieces and bells and broken + mirror! + </p> + <p> + Now the door would be closed and Graham and Helen were alone together; + they seemed sharply marked off then from all the unprecedented world storm + that rushed together without, vividly aware of one another, only concerned + with one another. Then the door would open again, messengers would enter, + or a sharp bell would stab their quiet privacy, and it was like a window + in a well built brightly lit house flung open suddenly to a hurricane. The + dark hurry and tumult, the stress and vehemence of the battle rushed in + and overwhelmed them. They were no longer persons but mere spectators, + mere impressions of a tremendous convulsion. They became unreal even to + themselves, miniatures of personality, indescribably small, and the two + antagonistic realities, the only realities in being were first the city, + that throbbed and roared yonder in a belated frenzy of defence and + secondly the aeroplanes hurling inexorably towards them over the round + shoulder of the world. + </p> + <p> + There came a sudden stir outside, a running to and fro, and cries. The + girl stood up, speechless, incredulous. + </p> + <p> + Metallic voices were shouting “Victory!” Yes it was “Victory!” + </p> + <p> + Bursting through the curtains appeared the man in yellow, startled and + dishevelled with excitement, “Victory,” he cried, “victory! + The people are winning. Ostrog’s people have collapsed.” + </p> + <p> + She rose. “Victory?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Graham. “Tell me! <i>What</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “We have driven them out of the under galleries at Norwood, + Streatham is afire and burning wildly, and Roehampton is ours. <i>Ours</i>!—and + we have taken the monoplane that lay thereon.” + </p> + <p> + A shrill bell rang. An agitated grey-headed man appeared from the room of + the Ward Leaders. “It is all over,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “What matters it now that we have Roehampton? The aeroplanes have + been sighted at Boulogne!” + </p> + <p> + “The Channel!” said the man in yellow. He calculated swiftly. + “Half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “They still have three of the flying stages,” said the old + man. + </p> + <p> + “Those guns?” cried Graham. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot mount them—in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean they are found?” + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “If we could stop them another hour!” cried the man in yellow. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can stop them now,” said the old man. “They + have near a hundred aeroplanes in the first fleet.” + </p> + <p> + “Another hour?” asked Graham. + </p> + <p> + “To be so near!” said the Ward Leader. “Now that we have + found those guns. To be so near—. If once we could get them out upon + the roof spaces.” + </p> + <p> + “How long would that take?” asked Graham suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “An hour—certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” cried the Ward Leader, “too late.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Is</i> it too late?” said Graham. “Even now—. + An hour!” + </p> + <p> + He had suddenly perceived a possibility. He tried to speak calmly, but his + face was white. “There is are chance. You said there was a monoplane—?” + </p> + <p> + “On the Roehampton stage, Sire.” + </p> + <p> + “Smashed?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is lying crossways to the carrier. It might be got upon the + guides—easily. But there is no aeronaut—.” + </p> + <p> + Graham glanced at the two men and then at Helen. He spoke after a long + pause. “<i>We</i> have no aeronauts?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + He turned suddenly to Helen. His decision was made. “I must do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to this flying stage—to this machine.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an aeronaut. After all—. Those days for which you + reproached me were not altogether wasted.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the old man in yellow. “Tell them to put it upon the + guides.” + </p> + <p> + The man in yellow hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to do?” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “This monoplane—it is a chance—.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “To fight—yes. To fight in the air. I have thought before—. + A big aeroplane is a clumsy thing. A resolute man—!” + </p> + <p> + “But—never since flying began—” cried the man in + yellow. + </p> + <p> + “There has been no need. But now the time has come. Tell them now—send + them my message—to put it upon the guides. I see now something to + do. I see now why I am here!” + </p> + <p> + The old man dumbly interrogated the man in yellow nodded, and hurried out. + </p> + <p> + Helen made a step towards Graham. Her face was white. “But, Sire!—How + can one fight? You will be killed.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. Yet, not to do it—or to let some one else attempt it—.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be killed,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve said my word. Do you not see? It may save—London!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, he could speak no more, he swept the alternative aside by a + gesture, and they stood looking at one another. + </p> + <p> + They were both clear that he must go. There was no step back from these + towering heroisms. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes brimmed with tears. She came towards him with a curious movement + of her hands, as though she felt her way and could not see; she seized his + hand and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “To wake,” she cried, “for this!” + </p> + <p> + He held her clumsily for a moment, and kissed the hair of her bowed head, + and then thrust her away, and turned towards the man in yellow. + </p> + <p> + He could not speak. The gesture of his arm said “Onward.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — THE COMING OF THE AEROPLANES + </h2> + <p> + Two men in pale blue were lying in the irregular line that stretched along + the edge of the captured Roehampton stage from end to end, grasping their + carbines and peering into the shadows of the stage called Wimbledon Park. + Now and then they spoke to one another. They spoke the mutilated English + of their class and period. The fire of the Ostrogites had dwindled and + ceased, and few of the enemy had been seen for some time. But the echoes + of the fight that was going on now far below in the lower galleries of + that stage, came every now and then between the staccato of shots from the + popular side. One of these men was describing to the other how he had seen + a man down below there dodge behind a girder, and had aimed at a guess and + hit him cleanly as he dodged too far. “He’s down there still,” + said the marksman. “See that little patch. Yes. Between those bars.” + </p> + <p> + A few yards behind them lay a dead stranger, face upward to the sky, with + the blue canvas of his jacket smouldering in a circle about the neat + bullet hole on his chest. Close beside him a wounded man, with a leg + swathed about, sat with an expressionless face and watched the progress of + that burning. Behind them, athwart the carrier lay the captured monoplane. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t see him <i>now</i>,” said the second man in a + tone of provocation. + </p> + <p> + The marksman became foul-mouthed and high-voiced in his earnest endeavour + to make things plain. And suddenly, interrupting him, came a noisy + shouting from the substage. + </p> + <p> + “What’s going on now?” he said, and raised himself on + one arm to survey the stairheads in the central groove of the stage. A + number of blue figures were coming up these, and swarming across the + stage. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want all these fools,” said his friend. + “They only crowd up and spoil shots. What are they after?” + </p> + <p> + “Ssh!—they’re shouting something.” + </p> + <p> + The two men listened. The new-comers had crowded densely about the + machine. Three Ward Leaders, conspicuous by their black mantles and + badges, clambered into the body and appeared above it. The rank and file + flung themselves upon the vans, gripping hold of the edges, until the + entire outline of the thing was manned, in some places three deep. One of + the marksmen knelt up. “They’re putting it on the carrier—that’s + what they’re after.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet, his friend rose also. “What’s the good?” + said his friend. “We’ve got no aeronauts.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what they’re doing anyhow.” He looked at + his rifle, looked at the struggling crowd, and suddenly turned to the + wounded man. “Mind these, mate,” he said, handing his carbine + and cartridge belt; and in a moment he was running towards the monoplane. + For a quarter of an hour he was lugging, thrusting, shouting and heeding + shouts, and then the thing was done, and he stood with a multitude of + others cheering their own achievement. By this time he knew, what indeed + everyone in the city knew, that the Master, raw learner though he was, + intended to fly this machine himself, was coming even now to take control + of it, would let no other man attempt it. + </p> + <p> + “He who takes the greatest danger, he who bears the heaviest burden, + that man is King,” so the Master was reported to have spoken. And + even as this man cheered, and while the beads of sweat still chased one + another from the disorder of his hair, he heard the thunder of a greater + tumult, and in fitful snatches the beat and impulse of the revolutionary + song. He saw through a gap in the people that a thick stream of heads + still poured up the stairway. “The Master is coming,” shouted + voices, “the Master is coming,” and the crowd about him grew + denser and denser. He began to thrust himself towards the central groove. + “The Master is coming!” “The Sleeper, the Master!” + “God and the Master!” roared the voices. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly quite close to him were the black uniforms of the + revolutionary guard, and for the first and last time in his life he saw + Graham, saw him quite nearly. A tall, dark man in a flowing black robe he + was, with a white, resolute face and eyes fixed steadfastly before him; a + man who for all the little things about him had neither ears nor eyes nor + thoughts.... + </p> + <p> + For all his days that man remembered the passing of Graham’s + bloodless face. In a moment it had gone and he was fighting in the swaying + crowd. A lad weeping with terror thrust against him, pressing towards the + stairways, yelling “Clear for the start, you fools!” The bell + that cleared the flying stage became a loud unmelodious clanging. + </p> + <p> + With that clanging in his ears Graham drew near the monoplane, marched + into the shadow of its tilting wing. He became aware that a number of + people about him were offering to accompany him, and waved their offers + aside. He wanted to think how one started the engine. The bell clanged + faster and faster, and the feet of the retreating people roared faster and + louder. The man in yellow was assisting him to mount through the ribs of + the body. He clambered into the aeronaut’s place, fixing himself + very carefully and deliberately. What was it? The man in yellow was + pointing to two small flying machines driving upward in the southern sky. + No doubt they were looking for the coming aeroplanes. That—presently—the + thing to do now was to start. Things were being shouted at him, questions, + warnings. They bothered him. He wanted to think about the machine, to + recall every item of his previous experience. He waved the people from + him, saw the man in yellow dropping off through the ribs, saw the crowd + cleft down the line of the girders by his gesture. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he was motionless, staring at the levers, the wheel by which + the engine shifted, and all the delicate appliances of which he knew so + little. His eye caught a spirit level with the bubble towards him, and he + remembered something, spent a dozen seconds in swinging the engine forward + until the bubble floated in the centre of the tube. He noted that the + people were not shouting, knew they watched his deliberation. A bullet + smashed on the bar above his head. Who fired? Was the line clear of + people? He stood up to see and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + In another second the propeller was spinning and he was rushing down the + guides. He gripped the wheel and swung the engine back to lift the stem. + Then it was the people shouted. In a moment he was throbbing with the + quiver of the engine, and the shouts dwindled swiftly behind, rushed down + to silence. The wind whistled over the edges of the screen, and the world + sank away from him very swiftly. + </p> + <p> + Throb, throb, throb—throb, throb, throb; up he drove. He fancied + himself free of all excitement, felt cool and deliberate. He lifted the + stem still more, opened one valve on his left wing and swept round and up. + He looked down with a steady head, and up. One of the Ostrogite monoplanes + was driving across his course, so that he drove obliquely towards it and + would pass below it at a steep angle. Its little aeronauts were peering + down at him. What did they mean to do? His mind became active. One, he saw + held a weapon pointing, seemed prepared to fire. What did they think he + meant to do? In a moment he understood their tactics, and his resolution + was taken. His momentary lethargy was past. He opened two more valves to + his left, swung round, end on to this hostile machine, closed his valves, + and shot straight at it, stem and wind-screen shielding him from the shot. + They tilted a little as if to clear him. He flung up his stem. + </p> + <p> + Throb, throb, throb—pause—throb, throb—he set his teeth, + his face into an involuntary grimace, and crash! He struck it! He struck + upward beneath the nearer wing. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly the wing of his antagonist seemed to broaden as the impetus of + his blow turned it up. He saw the full breadth of it and then it slid + downward out of his sight. + </p> + <p> + He felt his stem going down, his hands tightened on the levers, whirled + and rammed the engine back. He felt the jerk of a clearance, the nose of + the machine jerked upward steeply, and for a moment he seemed to be lying + on his back. The machine was reeling and staggering, it seemed to be + dancing on its screw. He made a huge effort, hung for a moment on the + levers, and slowly the engine came forward again. He was driving upward + but no longer so steeply. He gasped for a moment and flung himself at the + levers again. The wind whistled about him. One further effort and he was + almost level. He could breathe. He turned his head for the first time to + see what had become of his antagonists. Turned back to the levers for a + moment and looked again. For a moment he could have believed they were + annihilated. And then he saw between the two stages to the east was a + chasm, and down this something, a slender edge, fell swiftly and vanished, + as a sixpence falls down a crack. + </p> + <p> + At first he did not understand, and then a wild joy possessed him. He + shouted at the top of his voice, an inarticulate shout, and drove higher + and higher up the sky. Throb, throb, throb, pause, throb, throb, throb. + “Where was the other?” he thought. “They too—.” + As he looked round the empty heavens he had a momentary fear that this + second machine had risen above him, and then he saw it alighting on the + Norwood stage. They had meant shooting. To risk being rammed headlong two + thousand feet in the air was beyond their latter-day courage.... + </p> + <p> + For a little while he circled, then swooped in a steep descent towards the + westward stage. Throb throb throb, throb throb throb. The twilight was + creeping on apace, the smoke from the Streatham stage that had been so + dense and dark, was now a pillar of fire, and all the laced curves of the + moving ways and the translucent roofs and domes and the chasms between the + buildings were glowing softly now, lit by the tempered radiance of the + electric light that the glare of the day overpowered. The three efficient + stages that the Ostrogites held—for Wimbledon Park was useless + because of the fire from Roehampton, and Streatham was a furnace—were + glowing with guide lights for the coming aeroplanes. As he swept over the + Roehampton stage he saw the dark masses of the people thereon. He heard a + clap of frantic cheering, heard a bullet from the Wimbledon Park stage + tweet through the air, and went beating up above the Surrey wastes. He + felt a breath of wind from the southwest, and lifted his westward wing as + he had learnt to do, and so drove upward heeling into the rare swift upper + air. Whirr, whirr, whirr. + </p> + <p> + Up he drove and up, to that pulsating rhythm, until the country beneath + was blue and indistinct, and London spread like a little map traced in + light, like the mere model of a city near the brim of the horizon. The + southwest was a sky of sapphire over the shadowy rim of the world, and + ever as he drove upward the multitude of stars increased. + </p> + <p> + And behold! In the southward, low down and glittering swiftly nearer, were + two little patches of nebulous light. And then two more, and then a glow + of swiftly driving shapes. Presently he could count them. There were four + and twenty. The first fleet of aeroplanes had come! Beyond appeared a yet + greater glow. + </p> + <p> + He swept round in a half circle, staring at this advancing fleet. It flew + in a wedge-like shape, a triangular flight of gigantic phosphorescent + shapes sweeping nearer through the lower air. He made a swift calculation + of their pace, and spun the little wheel that brought the engine forward. + He touched a lever and the throbbing effort of the engine ceased. He began + to fall, fell swifter and swifter. He aimed at the apex of the wedge. He + dropped like a stone through the whistling air. It seemed scarce a second + from that soaring moment before he struck the foremost aeroplane. + </p> + <p> + No man of all that black multitude saw the coming of his fate, no man + among them dreamt of the hawk that struck downward upon him out of the + sky. Those who were not limp in the agonies of air-sickness, were craning + their black necks and staring to see the filmy city that was rising out of + the haze, the rich and splendid city to which “Massa Boss” had + brought their obedient muscles. Bright teeth gleamed and the glossy faces + shone. They had heard of Paris. They knew they were to have lordly times + among the poor white trash. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Graham hit them. + </p> + <p> + He had aimed at the body of the aeroplane, but at the very last instant a + better idea had flashed into his mind. He twisted about and struck near + the edge of the starboard wing with all his accumulated weight. He was + jerked back as he struck. His prow went gliding across its smooth expanse + towards the rim. He felt the forward rush of the huge fabric sweeping him + and his monoplane along with it, and for a moment that seemed an age he + could not tell what was happening. He heard a thousand throats yelling, + and perceived that his machine was balanced on the edge of the gigantic + float, and driving down, down; glanced over his shoulder and saw the + backbone of the aeroplane and the opposite float swaying up. He had a + vision through the ribs of sliding chairs, staring faces, and hands + clutching at the tilting guide bars. The fenestrations in the further + float flashed open as the aeronaut tried to right her. Beyond, he saw a + second aeroplane leaping steeply to escape the whirl of its heeling + fellow. The broad area of swaying wings seemed to jerk upward. He felt he + had dropped clear, that the monstrous fabric, clean overturned, hung like + a sloping wall above him. + </p> + <p> + He did not clearly understand that he had struck the side float of the + aeroplane and slipped off, but he perceived that he was flying free on the + down glide and rapidly nearing earth. What had he done? His heart throbbed + like a noisy engine in his throat and for a perilous instant he could not + move his levers because of the paralysis of his hands. He wrenched the + levers to throw his engine back, fought for two seconds against the weight + of it, felt himself righting, driving horizontally, set the engine beating + again. + </p> + <p> + He looked upward and saw two aeroplanes glide shouting far overhead, + looked back, and saw the main body of the fleet opening out and rushing + upward and outward; saw the one he had struck fall edgewise on and strike + like a gigantic knife-blade along the wind-wheels below it. + </p> + <p> + He put down his stern and looked again. He drove up heedless of his + direction as he watched. He saw the wind-vanes give, saw the huge fabric + strike the earth, saw its downward vanes crumple with the weight of its + descent, and then the whole mass turned over and smashed, upside down, + upon the sloping wheels. Then from the heaving wreckage a thin tongue of + white fire licked up towards the zenith. He was aware of a huge mass + flying through the air towards him, and turned upwards just in time to + escape the charge—if it was a charge—of a second aeroplane. It + whirled by below, sucked him down a fathom, and nearly turned him over in + the gust of its close passage. + </p> + <p> + He became aware of three others rushing towards him, aware of the urgent + necessity of beating above them. Aeroplanes were all about him, circling + wildly to avoid him, as it seemed. They drove past him, above, below, + eastward and westward. Far away to the westward was the sound of a + collision, and two falling flares. Far away to the southward a second + squadron was coming. Steadily he beat upward. Presently all the aeroplanes + were below him, but for a moment he doubted the height he had of them, and + did not swoop again. And then he came down upon a second victim and all + its load of soldiers saw him coming. The big machine heeled and swayed as + the fear-maddened men scrambled to the stern for their weapons. A score of + bullets sung through the air, and there flashed a star in the thick glass + wind-screen that protected him. The aeroplane slowed and dropped to foil + his stroke, and dropped too low. Just in time he saw the wind-wheels of + Bromley hill rushing up towards him, and spun about and up as the + aeroplane he had chased crashed among them. All its voices wove into a + felt of yelling. The great fabric seemed to be standing on end for a + second among the heeling and splintering vans, and then it flew to pieces. + Huge splinters came flying through the air, its engines burst like shells. + A hot rush of flame shot overhead into the darkling sky. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Two</i>!” he cried, with a bomb from overhead bursting as + it fell, and forthwith he was beating up again. A glorious exhilaration + possessed him now, a giant activity. His troubles about humanity, about + his inadequacy, were gone for ever. He was a man in battle rejoicing in + his power. Aeroplanes seemed radiating from him in every direction, intent + only upon avoiding him, the yelling of their packed passengers came in + short gusts as they swept by. He chose his third quarry, struck hastily + and did but turn it on edge. It escaped him, to smash against the tall + cliff of London wall. Flying from that impact he skimmed the darkling + ground so nearly he could see a frightened rabbit bolting up a slope. He + jerked up steeply, and found himself driving over south London with the + air about him vacant. To the right of him a wild riot of signal rockets + from the Ostrogites banged tumultuously in the sky. To the south the + wreckage of half a dozen air ships flamed, and east and west and north + they fled before him. They drove away to the east and north, and went + about in the south, for they could not pause in the air. In their present + confusion any attempt at evolution would have meant disastrous collisions. + </p> + <p> + He passed two hundred feet or so above the Roehampton stage. It was black + with people and noisy with their frantic shouting. But why was the + Wimbledon Park stage black and cheering, too? The smoke and flame of + Streatham now hid the three further stages. He curved about and rose to + see them and the northern quarters. First came the square masses of + Shooter’s Hill into sight, from behind the smoke, lit and orderly + with the aeroplane that had landed and its disembarking negroes. Then came + Blackheath, and then under the corner of the reek the Norwood stage. On + Blackheath no aeroplane had landed. Norwood was covered by a swarm of + little figures running to and fro in a passionate confusion. Why? Abruptly + he understood. The stubborn defence of the flying stages was over, the + people were pouring into the under-ways of these last strongholds of + Ostrog’s usurpation. And then, from far away on the northern border + of the city, full of glorious import to him, came a sound, a signal, a + note of triumph, the leaden thud of a gun. His lips fell apart, his face + was disturbed with emotion. + </p> + <p> + He drew an immense breath. “They win,” he shouted to the empty + air; “the people win!” The sound of a second gun came like an + answer. And then he saw the monoplane on Blackheath was running down its + guides to launch. It lifted clean and rose. It shot up into the air, + driving straight southward and away from him. + </p> + <p> + In an instant it came to him what this meant. It must needs be Ostrog in + flight. He shouted and dropped towards it. He had the momentum of his + elevation and fell slanting down the air and very swiftly. It rose steeply + at his approach. He allowed for its velocity and drove straight upon it. + </p> + <p> + It suddenly became a mere flat edge, and behold! he was past it, and + driving headlong down with all the force of his futile blow. + </p> + <p> + He was furiously angry. He reeled the engine back along its shaft and went + circling up. He saw Ostrog’s machine beating up a spiral before him. + He rose straight towards it, won above it by virtue of the impetus of his + swoop and by the advantage and weight of a man. He dropped headlong—dropped + and missed again! As he rushed past he saw the face of Ostrog’s + aeronaut confident and cool and in Ostrog’s attitude a wincing + resolution. Ostrog was looking steadfastly away from him—to the + south. He realized with a gleam of wrath how bungling his flight must be. + Below he saw the Croydon hills. He jerked upward and once more he gained + on his enemy. + </p> + <p> + He glanced over his shoulder and his attention was arrested. The eastward + stage, the one on Shooter’s Hill, appeared to lift; a flash changing + to a tall grey shape, a cowled figure of smoke and dust, jerked into the + air. For a moment this cowled figure stood motionless, dropping huge + masses of metal from its shoulders, and then it began to uncoil a dense + head of smoke. The people had blown it up, aeroplane and all! As suddenly + a second flash and grey shape sprang up from the Norwood stage. And even + as he stared at this came a dead report; and the air wave of the first + explosion struck him. He was flung up and sideways. + </p> + <p> + For a moment his monoplane fell nearly edgewise with her nose down, and + seemed to hesitate whether to overset altogether. He stood on his + wind-shield, wrenching the wheel that swayed up over his head. And then + the shock of the second explosion took his machine sideways. + </p> + <p> + He found himself clinging to one of the ribs of his machine, and the air + was blowing past him and <i>upward</i>. He seemed to be hanging quite + still in the air, with the wind blowing up past him. It occurred to him + that he was falling. Then he was sure that he was falling. He could not + look down. + </p> + <p> + He found himself recapitulating with incredible swiftness all that had + happened since his awakening, the days of doubt, the days of Empire, and + at last the tumultuous discovery of Ostrog’s calculated treachery. + </p> + <p> + The vision had a quality of utter unreality. Who was he? Why was he + holding so tightly with his hands? Why could he not let go? In such a fall + as this countless dreams have ended. But in a moment he would wake.... + </p> + <p> + His thoughts ran swifter and swifter. He wondered if he should see Helen + again. It seemed so unreasonable that he should not see her again. It <i>must</i> + be a dream! Yet surely he would meet her. She at least was real. She was + real. He would wake and meet her. + </p> + <p> + Although he could not look at it, he was suddenly aware that the earth was + very near. + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12163 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |