Bab Bab 25 · The Grand Lunar

, into whose presence I am finally to come. The

unlimited development of the minds of the intellectual class is

rendered possible by the absence of any bony skull in the lunar

anatomy, that strange box of bone that clamps about the developing

brain of man, imperiously insisting ‘thus far and no farther’ to all

his possibilities. They fall into three main classes differing greatly

in influence and respect. There are administrators, of whom Phi-oo is

one, Selenites of considerable initiative and versatility, responsible

each for a certain cubic content of the moon’s bulk; the experts like

the football-headed thinker, who are trained to perform certain special

operations; and the erudite, who are the repositories of all knowledge.

To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of

terrestrial languages. With regard to these latter, it is a curious

little thing to note that the unlimited growth of the lunar brain has

rendered unnecessary the invention of all those mechanical aids to

brain work which have distinguished the career of man. There are no

books, no records of any sort, no libraries or inscriptions. All

knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the honey-ants of Texas

store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset House and

the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains...

“The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take

a very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come

out of the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will

reply. I see them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers,

attendants, shouters, parachute-carriers, and so forth—queer groups to

see. The experts for the most part ignore me completely, even as they

ignore each other, or notice me only to begin a clamorous exhibition of

their distinctive skill. The erudite for the most part are rapt in an

impervious and apoplectic complacency, from which only a denial of

their erudition can rouse them. Usually they are led about by little

watchers and attendants, and often there are small and active-looking

creatures, small females usually, that I am inclined to think are a

sort of wife to them; but some of the profounder scholars are

altogether too great for locomotion, and are carried from place to

place in a sort of sedan tub, wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist

my respectful astonishment. I have just passed one in coming to this

place where I am permitted to amuse myself with these electrical toys,

a vast, shaven, shaky head, bald and thin-skinned, carried on his

grotesque stretcher. In front and behind came his bearers, and curious,

almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators shrieked his fame.

“I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the

intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and

muscles, as it were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these

hypertrophied minds. Porters almost invariably accompany them. There

are also extremely swift messengers with spider-like legs and ‘hands’

for grasping parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could

well nigh wake the dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence

these subordinates are as inert and helpless as umbrellas in a stand.

They exist only in relation to the orders they have to obey, the duties

they have to perform.

“The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral

ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to

flimsy parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. ‘Machine

hands,’ indeed, some of these are in actual nature—it is no figure of

speech, the single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified

for clawing, lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary

subordinate appendages to these important parts. Some, who I suppose

deal with bell-striking mechanisms, have enormously developed auditory

organs; some whose work lies in delicate chemical operations project a

vast olfactory organ; others again have flat feet for treadles with

anchylosed joints; and others—who I have been told are

glassblowers—seem mere lung-bellows. But every one of these common

Selenites I have seen at work is exquisitely adapted to the social need

it meets. Fine work is done by fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed

and neat. Some I could hold on the palm of my hand. There is even a

sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty and only delight it

is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. And to rule

over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in some

aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon,

a sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest

years to give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads.

“The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious

and interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite

recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from

which only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to

become machine-minders of a special sort. The extended ‘hand’ in this

highly developed system of technical education is stimulated by

irritants and nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is

starved. Phi-oo, unless I misunderstood him, explained that in the

earlier stages these queer little creatures are apt to display signs of

suffering in their various cramped situations, but they easily become

indurated to their lot; and he took me on to where a number of

flexible-minded messengers were being drawn out and broken in. It is

quite unreasonable, I know, but such glimpses of the educational

methods of these beings affect me disagreeably. I hope, however, that

may pass off, and I may be able to see more of this aspect of their

wonderful social order. That wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking

out of its jar seemed to have a sort of limp appeal for lost

possibilities; it haunts me still, although, of course it is really in

the end a far more humane proceeding than our earthly method of leaving

children to grow into human beings, and then making machines of them.

“Quite recently, too—I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth visit I

made to this apparatus—I had a curious light upon the lives of these

operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of

going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the

devious windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low

cavern, pervaded by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness,

rather brightly lit. The light came from a tumultuous growth of livid

fungoid shapes—some indeed singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms,

but standing as high or higher than a man.

“‘Mooneys eat these?’ said I to Phi-oo.

“‘Yes, food.’

“‘Goodness me!’ I cried; ‘what’s that?’

“My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly

Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped.

“‘Dead?’ I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the moon, and I

have grown curious.)

“‘_No!_’ exclaimed Phi-oo. ‘Him—worker—no work to do. Get little drink

then—make sleep—till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him

walking about.’

“‘There’s another!’ cried I.

“And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found,

peppered with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until

the moon had need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and

we were able to turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely

than I had been able to do previously. They breathed noisily at my

doing so, but did not wake. One, I remember very distinctly: he left a

strong impression, I think, because some trick of the light and of his

attitude was strongly suggestive of a drawn-up human figure. His

fore-limbs were long, delicate tentacles—he was some kind of refined

manipulator—and the pose of his slumber suggested a submissive

suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for me to interpret his expression

in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him over into the darkness

among the livid fleshiness again I felt a distinctly unpleasant

sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him was confessed.

“It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits

of feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is

surely far better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving

in the streets. In every complicated social community there is

necessarily a certain intermittency of employment for all specialised

labour, and in this way the trouble of an ‘unemployed’ problem is

altogether anticipated. And yet, so unreasonable are even

scientifically trained minds, I still do not like the memory of those

prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades of fleshy growth,

and I avoid that short cut in spite of the inconveniences of the

longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative.

“My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very

crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the

hexagonal openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large

open space behind, or selecting the toys and amulets made to please

them by the dainty-tentacled jewellers who work in kennels below, the

mothers of the moon world—the queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They

are noble-looking beings, fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully

adorned, with a proud carriage, and, save for their mouths, almost

microscopic heads.

“Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage,

and of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able

to learn very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English,

however, my ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of

opinion that, as with the ants and bees, there is a large majority of

the members in this community of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in

our cities there are now many who never live that life of parentage

which is the natural life of man. Here, as with the ants, this thing

has become a normal condition of the race, and the whole of such

replacement as is necessary falls upon this special and by no means

numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the moon-world, large and

stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. Unless I

misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo’s, they are absolutely incapable

of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; periods of foolish

indulgence alternate with moods of aggressive violence, and as soon as

possible the little creatures, who are quite soft and flabby and pale

coloured, are transferred to the charge of celibate females, women

‘workers’ as it were, who in some cases possess brains of almost

masculine dimensions.”

Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and

tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does

nevertheless give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange

and wonderful world—a world with which our own may have to reckon we

know not how speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this

whispering of a record needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes,

is the first warning of such a change in human conditions as mankind

has scarcely imagined heretofore. In that satellite of ours there are

new elements, new appliances, traditions, an overwhelming avalanche of

new ideas, a strange race with whom we must inevitably struggle for

mastery—gold as common as iron or wood...

CHAPTER 25. The Grand Lunar

The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail,

the encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or

master of the moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without

interference, but to have been interrupted in the concluding portion.

The second came after an interval of a week.

The first message begins: “At last I am able to resume this—” it then

becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in

mid-sentence.

The missing words of the following sentence are probably “the crowd.”

There follows quite clearly: “grew ever denser as we drew near the

palace of the Grand Lunar—if I may call a series of excavations a

palace. Everywhere faces stared at me—blank, chitinous gapes and masks,

eyes peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath

monstrous forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged

and yelped, and helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks

appeared craning over shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome

space about me marched a cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who

had joined us on our leaving the boat in which we had come along the

channels of the Central Sea. The quick-eyed artist with the little

brain joined us also, and a thick bunch of lean porter-insects swayed

and struggled under the multitude of conveniences that were considered

essential to my state. I was carried in a litter during the final stage

of our journey. This litter was made of some very ductile metal that

looked dark to me, meshed and woven, and with bars of paler metal, and

about me as I advanced there grouped itself a long and complicated

procession.

“In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced

creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat,

resolute-moving ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy

of learned heads, a sort of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo

explained, to stand about the Grand Lunar for purposes of reference.

(Not a thing in lunar science, not a point of view or method of

thinking, that these wonderful beings did not carry in their heads!)

Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo’s shivering brain borne

also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly less important

litter; then myself on a litter of greater elegance than any other, and

surrounded by my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters came next,

splitting the ear with vehement outcries, and then several big brains,

special correspondents one might well call them, or historiographers,

charged with the task of observing and remembering every detail of this

epoch-making interview. A company of attendants, bearing and dragging

banners and masses of scented fungus and curious symbols, vanished in

the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers and officers in

caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so far as my

eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd extended.

“I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar

effect of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were,

adrift on this broad sea of excited entomology was by no means

agreeable. Just for a space I had something very like what I should

imagine people mean when they speak of the ‘horrors.’ It had come to me

before in these lunar caverns, when on occasion I have found myself

weaponless and with an undefended back, amidst a crowd of these

Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It is, of course, as absolutely

irrational a feeling as one could well have, and I hope gradually to

subdue it. But just for a moment, as I swept forward into the welter of

the vast crowd, it was only by gripping my litter tightly and summoning

all my will-power that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or some such

manifestation. It lasted perhaps three minutes; then I had myself in

hand again.

“We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then

passed through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately

decorated. The approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to

give one a vivid impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered

seemed greater and more boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect

of progressive size was enhanced by a thin haze of faintly

phosphorescent blue incense that thickened as one advanced, and robbed

even the nearer figures of clearness. I seemed to advance continually

to something larger, dimmer, and less material.

“I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby

and unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had

a coarse beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to

despise any attention to my person beyond a proper care for

cleanliness; but under the exceptional circumstances in which I found

myself, representing, as I did, my planet and my kind, and depending

very largely upon the attractiveness of my appearance for a proper

reception, I could have given much for something a little more artistic

and dignified than the husks I wore. I had been so serene in the belief

that the moon was uninhabited as to overlook such precautions

altogether. As it was I was dressed in a flannel jacket,

knickerbockers, and golfing stockings, stained with every sort of dirt

the moon offered, slippers (of which the left heel was wanting), and a

blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my head. (These clothes,

indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are anything but an improvement

to my cast of features, and there was an unmended tear at the knee of

my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted in my litter;

my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I am fully

alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by any

expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way and

imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did what

I could with my blanket—folding it somewhat after the fashion of a

toga, and for the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter

permitted.

“Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with

blue light and obscured by a grey-blue fog, surging with metallic or

livid-grey creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine

this hall to end in an open archway beyond which is a still larger

hall, and beyond this yet another and still larger one, and so on. At

the end of the vista, dimly seen, a flight of steps, like the steps of

Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. Higher and higher these steps

appear to go as one draws nearer their base. But at last I came under a

huge archway and beheld the summit of these steps, and upon it the

Grand Lunar exalted on his throne.

“He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue.

This, and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a

blue-black void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first,

brooding on his sombre throne; his brain case must have measured many

yards in diameter. For some reason that I cannot fathom a number of

blue search-lights radiated from behind the throne on which he sat, and

immediately encircling him was a halo. About him, and little and

indistinct in this glow, a number of body-servants sustained and

supported him, and overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle

beneath him were his intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and

computators and searchers and servants, and all the distinguished

insects of the court of the moon. Still lower stood ushers and

messengers, and then all down the countless steps of the throne were

guards, and at the base, enormous, various, indistinct, vanishing at

last into an absolute black, a vast swaying multitude of the minor

dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a perpetual scraping whisper

on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a rustling murmur.

“As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an

imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers

died away....

“I entered the last and greatest hall....

“My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right

and left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff

marched across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant

stairs. Then began a vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music.

The two Selenites dismounted, but I was bidden remain seated—I imagine

as a special honour. The music ceased, but not that humming, and by a

simultaneous movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was

directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me.

“At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain

looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim,

undulating ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath

its enormity and just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start

minute elfin eyes peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if

they peered through holes. At first I could see no more than these two

staring little eyes, and then below I distinguished the little dwarfed

body and its insect-jointed limbs shrivelled and white. The eyes stared

down at me with a strange intensity, and the lower part of the swollen

globe was wrinkled. Ineffectual-looking little hand-tentacles steadied

this shape on the throne....

“It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd.

“I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly

glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of

the whole effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants

and helpers grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into

the night. I saw that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great

brain with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own

part, I sat gripping my swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar,

unable to turn my gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a little

landing that was separated only by ten steps or so from the supreme

seat, the woven splendour of the music reached a climax and ceased, and

I was left naked, as it were, in that vastness, beneath the still

scrutiny of the Grand Lunar’s eyes.

“He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen....

“My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the

blue mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites,

still and expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once

again an unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed.

“After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter,

and stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply

symbolical gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender

officials. The encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied

me to the entrance of the last hall appeared two steps above me and

left and right of me, in readiness for the Grand Lunar’s need, and

Phi-oo’s pale brain placed itself about half-way up to the throne in

such a position as to communicate easily between us without turning his

back on either the Grand Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position

behind him. Dexterous ushers sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full

face to the Presence. I seated myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and

Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. There came a pause. The eyes of the

nearer court went from me to the Grand Lunar and came back to me, and a

hissing and piping of expectation passed across the hidden multitudes

below and ceased.

“That humming ceased.

“For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent.

“I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing

me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass.

“I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert

Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and

fleshy and solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to

the Grand Lunar. He had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his

shining superficies was glistening and running with cooling spray.

“Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he

began piping his recognisable English—at first a little nervously, so

that he was not very clear.

“‘M’m—the Grand Lunar—wished to say—wishes to say—he gathers you

are—m’m—men—that you are a man from the planet earth. He wishes to say

that he welcomes you—welcomes you—and wishes to learn—learn, if I may

use the word—the state of your world, and the reason why you came to

this.’

“He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to

remarks of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to

think they were intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth

was to the moon what the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites

desired very greatly to learn about the earth and men. He then told me

no doubt in compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of

earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the

Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and

decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon,

and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had

seen that day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his

long blue rays to rotate in a very confusing manner, and all about the

great hall ran the pipings and whisperings and rustlings of the report

of what I had said. He then proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of

inquiries which were easier to answer.

“He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the

earth, that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part,

indeed, he already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very

anxious to have more detailed information of what he called this

extraordinary state of affairs, for from the solidity of the earth

there had always been a disposition to regard it as uninhabitable. He

endeavoured first to ascertain the extremes of temperature to which we

earth beings were exposed, and he was deeply interested by my

descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His imagination was assisted

by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the outer galleries of the

night side is not infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined to marvel

that we did not find the sunlight too intense for our eyes, and was

interested in my attempt to explain that the sky was tempered to a

bluish colour through the refraction of the air, though I doubt if he

clearly understood that. I explained how the iris of the human eyes can

contract the pupil and save the delicate internal structure from the

excess of sunlight, and was allowed to approach within a few feet of

the Presence in order that this structure might be seen. This led to a

comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former is not only

excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also

_see_ heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders

objects visible to it.

“The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he

amused himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils

contract. As a consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little

time....

“But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by

insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and

answer. I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget

that the the Grand Lunar has no face....

“When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked

how we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him

the arts of building and furnishing. Here we wandered into

misunderstandings and cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the

looseness of my expressions. For a long time I had great difficulty in

making him understand the nature of a house. To him and his attendant

Selenites it seemed, no doubt, the most whimsical thing in the world

that men should build houses when they might descend into excavations,

and an additional complication was introduced by the attempt I made to

explain that men had originally begun their homes in caves, and that

they were now taking their railways and many establishments beneath the

surface. Here I think a desire for intellectual completeness betrayed

me. There was also a considerable tangle due to an equally unwise

attempt on my part to explain about mines. Dismissing this topic at

last in an incomplete state, the Grand Lunar inquired what we did with

the interior of our globe.

“A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of

that great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know

absolutely nothing of the contents of the world upon which the

immemorial generations of our ancestors had been evolved. Three times

had I to repeat that of all the 4000 miles of distance between the

earth and its centre men knew only to the depth of a mile, and that

very vaguely. I understood the Grand Lunar to ask why had I come to the

moon seeing we had scarcely touched our own planet yet, but he did not

trouble me at that time to proceed to an explanation, being too anxious

to pursue the details of this mad inversion of all his ideas.

“He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the

perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. ‘But when

the night comes,’ he asked, ‘is it not cold?’

“I told him it was colder than by day.

“‘And does not your atmosphere freeze?’

“I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our

nights were so short.

“‘Not even liquefy?’

“I was about to say ‘No,’ but then it occurred to me that one part at

least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy

and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost—a process perfectly

analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon

during its longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from

that the Grand Lunar went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of

sleep that comes so regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is

part also of our earthly inheritance. On the moon they rest only at

rare intervals, and after exceptional exertions. Then I tried to

describe to him the soft splendours of a summer night, and from that I

passed to a description of those animals that prowl by night and sleep

by day. I told him of lions and tigers, and here it seemed as though we

had come to a deadlock. For, save in their waters, there are no

creatures in the moon not absolutely domestic and subject to his will,

and so it has been for immemorial years. They have monstrous water

creatures, but no evil beasts, and the idea of anything strong and

large existing ‘outside’ in the night is very difficult for them....”

[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps

twenty words or more.]

“He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange

superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere

surface of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances

of space, who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon

his kind, and yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside

I sat thinking, and then at his desire I told him of the different

sorts of men. He searched me with questions. ‘And for all sorts of work

you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?’

“I gave him an outline of the democratic method.

“When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then

requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had

miscarried.

“‘Do they not do different things, then?’ said Phi-oo.

“Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some

were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. ‘But _all_ rule,’ I said.

“‘And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different

duties?’

“‘None that you can see,’ I said, ‘except perhaps, for clothes. Their

minds perhaps differ a little,’ I reflected.

“‘Their minds must differ a great deal,’ said the Grand Lunar, ‘or they

would all want to do the same things.’

“In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his

preconceptions, I said that his surmise was right. ‘It was all hidden

in the brain,’ I said; but the difference was there. Perhaps if one

could see the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and

unequal as the Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who

could reach out far and wide, men who could go swiftly; noisy,

trumpet-minded men, and men who could remember without thinking....’”

[The record is indistinct for three words.]

“He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. ‘But you

said all men rule?’ he pressed.

“‘To a certain extent,’ I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my

explanation.

“He reached out to a salient fact. ‘Do you mean,’ asked, ‘that there is

no Grand Earthly?’

“I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I

explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth

had usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large

and influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged,

the Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At

which the Grand Lunar was even more amazed.

“‘But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?’ he asked; and I

explained to him the way we helped our limited [A word omitted here,

probably “brains.”] with libraries of books. I explained to him how our

science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little men,

and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered

much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the

moon. Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites

grew and changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and

remained brutes—equipped. He said this...” [Here there is a short piece

of the record indistinct.]

“He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours,

and I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not

understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but

when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing,

that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth,

though I can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does

not matter, because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to

tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand

years, and that we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under

many different forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar

very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we

referred merely to administrative areas.

“‘Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order

will some day be,’ I said, and so I came to tell him....” [At this

point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty words

is totally illegible.]

“The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging

to the inconvenience of diverse tongues. ‘They want to communicate, and

yet not to communicate,’ he said, and then for a long time he

questioned me closely concerning war.

“He was at first perplexed and incredulous. ‘You mean to say,’ he

asked, seeking confirmation, ‘that you run about over the surface of

your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to

scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat?’

“I told him that was perfectly correct.

“He asked for particulars to assist his imagination.

“‘But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?’ he asked,

and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress

him almost as much as the killing. ‘Tell me more,’ said the Grand

Lunar; ‘make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.’

“And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of

earthly War.

“I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and

ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an

idea of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of

sieges and assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of

sentinels freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and

desperate last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of

fugitives and the dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, of

invasions and massacres, of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars of

Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of the Crusades. And as I went on, and

Phi-oo translated, the Selenites cooed and murmured in a steadily

intensified emotion.

“I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and

go through 20 feet of iron—and how we could steer torpedoes under

water. I went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could

imagine of the Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous

that he interrupted the translation of what I had said in order to have

my verification of my account. They particularly doubted my description

of the men cheering and rejoicing as they went into battle.

“‘But surely they do not like it!’ translated Phi-oo.

“I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious

experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with

amazement.

“‘But what good is this war?’ asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to his

theme.

“‘Oh! as for _good_!’ said I; ‘it thins the population!’

“‘But why should there be a need—?’

“There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and

then he spoke again.”

At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a

perplexing complication as far back as Cavor’s description of the

silence that fell before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become

confusingly predominant in the record. These undulations are evidently

the result of radiations proceeding from a lunar source, and their

persistent approximation to the alternating signals of Cavor is

curiously suggestive of some operator deliberately seeking to mix them

in with his message and render it illegible. At first they are small

and regular, so that with a little care and the loss of very few words

we have been able to disentangle Cavor’s message; then they become

broad and larger, then suddenly they are irregular, with an

irregularity that gives the effect at last of some one scribbling

through a line of writing. For a long time nothing can be made of this

madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly the interruption ceases,

leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and continues for the rest

of the message, completely obliterating whatever Cavor was attempting

to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate intervention, the

Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on transmitting his

message in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its record, when it

was clearly quite in their power and much more easy and convenient for

them to stop his proceedings at any time, is a problem to which I can

contribute nothing. The thing seems to have happened so, and that is

all I can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand Lunar

begins in mid-sentence.

“...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little

while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate

what has been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of

their science, namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered

Cavorite.’ I find they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they

have always regarded it as a practical impossibility, because for some

reason there is no helium in the moon, and helium...”

Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that

obliterating trace. Note that word “secret,” for on that, and that

alone, I base my interpretation of the message that follows, the last

message, as both Mr. Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he

is ever likely to send us.