The Time Machine

Herbert George Wells

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The Time Machine

by Herbert George Wells [1898]

The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak ofhim) was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyesshone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed andanimated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubblesthat flashed and passed in our glasses. Our chairs, being hispatents, embraced and caressed us rather than submitted to be satupon, and there was that luxurious after-dinner atmosphere whenthought roams gracefully free of the trammels of precision. Andhe put it to us in this way--marking the points with a leanforefinger--as we sat and lazily admired his earnestness overthis new paradox (as we thought it:) and his fecundity. You must follow me carefully. I shall have to controvert oneor two ideas that are almost universally accepted. The geometry,for instance, they taught you at school is founded on amisconception. Is not that rather a large thing to expect us to begin upon?said Filby, an argumentative person with red hair. I do not mean to ask you to accept anything without reasonableground for it. You will soon admit as much as I need from you.You know of course that a mathematical line, a line of thicknessNIL, has no real existence. They taught you that? Neither hasa mathematical plane. These things are mere abstractions. That is all right, said the Psychologist. Nor, having only length, breadth, and thickness, can a cubehave a real existence. There I object, said Filby. Of course a solid body mayexist. All real things-- So most people think. But wait a moment. Can anINSTANTANEOUS cube exist? Dont follow you, said Filby. Can a cube that does not last for any time at all, have a realexistence? Filby became pensive. Clearly, the Time Traveller proceeded, any real body must have extension in FOUR directions: it musthave Length, Breadth, Thickness, and--Duration. But through anatural infirmity of the flesh, which I will explain to you in amoment, we incline to 3

overlook this fact. There are really fourdimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and afourth, Time. There is, however, a tendency to draw an unrealdistinction between the former three dimensions and the latter,because it happens that our consciousness moves intermittently inone direction along the latter from the beginning to the end ofour lives. That, said a very young man, making spasmodic efforts torelight his cigar over the lamp; that . . . very clear indeed. Now, it is very remarkable that this is so extensivelyoverlooked, continued the Time Traveller, with a slightaccession of cheerfulness. Really this is what is meant by theFourth Dimension, though some people who talk about the FourthDimension do not know they mean it. It is only another way oflooking at Time. THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TIME AND ANY OFTHE THREE DIMENSIONS OF SPACE EXCEPT THAT OUR CONSCIOUSNESS MOVESALONG IT. But some foolish people have got hold of the wrongside of that idea. You have all heard what they have to sayabout this Fourth Dimension? _I_ have not, said the Provincial Mayor. It is simply this. That Space, as our mathematicians have it,is spoken of as having three dimensions, which one may callLength, Breadth, and Thickness, and is always definable byreference to three planes, each at right angles to the others.But some philosophical people have been asking why THREEdimensions particularly--why not another direction at rightangles to the other three?--and have even tried to construct aFour-Dimension geometry. Professor Simon Newcomb was expoundingthis to the New York Mathematical Society only a month or so ago.You know how on a flat surface, which has only two dimensions,we can represent a figure of a three-dimensional solid, andsimilarly they think that by models of thee dimensions they couldrepresent one of four--if they could master the perspective ofthe thing. See? I think so, murmured the Provincial Mayor; and, knitting hisbrows, he lapsed into an introspective state, his lips moving asone who repeats mystic words. Yes, I think I see it now, hesaid after some time, brightening in a quite transitory manner. Well, I do not mind telling you I have been at work upon thisgeometry of Four Dimensions for some time. Some of my resultsare curious. For instance, here is a portrait of a man at eightyears old, another at fifteen, another at seventeen, another attwenty-three, and so on. All these are evidently sections, as itwere, Three-Dimensional representations of his Four-Dimensionedbeing, which is a 4

fixed and unalterable thing. Scientific people, proceeded the Time Traveller, after thepause required for the proper assimilation of this, know verywell that Time is only a kind of Space. Here is a popularscientific diagram, a weather record. This line I trace with myfinger shows the movement of the barometer. Yesterday it was sohigh, yesterday night it fell, then this morning it rose again,and so gently upward to here. Surely the mercury did not tracethis line in any of the dimensions of Space generally recognized?But certainly it traced such a line, and that line, therefore,we must conclude was along the Time-Dimension. But, said the Medical Man, staring hard at a coal in thefire, if Time is really only a fourth dimension of Space, why isit, and why has it always been, regarded as something different?And why cannot we move in Time as we move about in the otherdimensions of Space? The Time Traveller smiled. Are you sure we can move freely inSpace? Right and left we can go, backward and forward freelyenough, and men always have done so. I admit we move freely intwo dimensions. But how about up and down? Gravitation limitsus there. Not exactly, said the Medical Man. There are balloons. But before the balloons, save for spasmodic jumping and theinequalities of the surface, man had no freedom of verticalmovement. Still they could move a little up and down, saidthe Medical Man. Easier, far easier down than up. And you cannot move at all in Time, you cannot get away fromthe present moment. My dear sir, that is just where you are wrong. That is justwhere the whole world has gone wrong. We are always getting awayfrom the present movement. Our mental existences, which areimmaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along theTime-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to thegrave. Just as we should travel DOWN if we began our existencefifty miles above the earths surface. But the great difficulty is this, interrupted thePsychologist. You CAN move about in all directions of Space,but you cannot move about in Time. That is the germ of my great discovery. But you are wrong tosay that we cannot move about in Time. For instance, if I amrecalling an incident very vividly I go back to the instant ofits occurrence: I become absent-minded, as you say. I jump backfor a moment. Of course we have no means of staying back for anylength of Time, any more than a savage or an animal has ofstaying six feet above the ground. But a civilized man is betteroff than the savage in this respect. He can go up againstgravitation in a balloon, and why should he not hope 5

thatultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift alongthe Time-Dimension, or even turn about and travel the other way? Oh, THIS, began Filby, is all-- Why not? said the Time Traveller. Its against reason, said Filby. What reason? said the Time Traveller. You can show black is white by argument, said Filby, but youwill never convince me. Possibly not, said the Time Traveller. But now you begin tosee the object of my investigations into the geometry of FourDimensions. Long ago I had a vague inkling of a machine-- To travel through Time! exclaimed the Very Young Man. That shall travel indifferently in any direction of Space andTime, as the driver determines. Filby contented himself with laughter. But I have experimental verification, said the TimeTraveller. It would be remarkably convenient for the historian, thePsychologist suggested. One might travel back and verify theaccepted account of the Battle of Hastings, for instance! Dont you think you would attract attention? said the MedicalMan. Our ancestors had no great tolerance for anachronisms. One might get ones Greek from the very lips of Homer andPlato, the Very Young Man thought. In which case they would certainly plough you for theLittlego. The German scholars have improved Greek so much. Then there is the future, said the Very Young Man. Justthink! One might invest all ones money, leave it to accumulateat interest, and hurry on ahead! To discover a society, said I, erected on a strictlycommunistic basis. Of all the wild extravagant theories! began the Psychologist. Yes, so it seemed to me, and so I never talked of it until-- Experimental verification! cried I. You are going to verifyTHAT? The experiment! cried Filby, who was getting brain-weary. Lets see your experiment anyhow, said the Psychologist, though its all humbug, you know. The Time Traveller smiled round at us. Then, still smilingfaintly, and with his hands deep in his trousers pockets, hewalked slowly out of the room, and we heard his slippersshuffling down the long passage to his laboratory. The Psychologist looked at us. I wonder what hes got? Some sleightof-hand trick or other, said the Medical Man,and Filby tried to tell us about a conjurer he had seen atBurslem; but before he had finished his preface the TimeTraveller came back, and Filbys anecdote collapsed. The thing the Time Traveller held in his hand was a glitteringmetallic framework, scarcely larger than a small clock, and verydelicately made. There was ivory in it, and some transparentcrystalline substance. And now I 6

must be explicit, for this thatfollows--unless his explanation is to be accepted--is anabsolutely unaccountable thing. He took one of the smalloctagonal tables that were scattered about the room, and set itin front of the fire, with two legs on the hearthrug. On thistable he placed the mechanism. Then he drew up a chair, and satdown. The only other object on the table was a small shadedlamp, the bright light of which fell upon the model. There werealso perhaps a dozen candles about, two in brass candlesticksupon the mantel and several in sconces, so that the room wasbrilliantly illuminated. I sat in a low arm-chair nearest thefire, and I drew this forward so as to be almost between the TimeTraveller and the fireplace. Filby sat behind him, looking overhis shoulder. The Medical Man and the Provincial Mayor watchedhim in profile from the right, the Psychologist from the left.The Very Young Man stood behind the Psychologist. We were all onthe alert. It appears incredible to me that any kind of trick,however subtly conceived and however adroitly done, could havebeen played upon us under these conditions. The Time Traveller looked at us, and then at the mechanism. Well? said the Psychologist. This little affair, said the Time Traveller, resting hiselbows upon the table and pressing his hands together above theapparatus, is only a model. It is my plan for a machine totravel through time. You will notice that it looks singularlyaskew, and that there is an odd twinkling appearance about thisbar, as though it was in some way unreal. He pointed to thepart with his finger. Also, here is one little white lever, andhere is another. The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into thething. Its beautifully made, he said. It took two years to make, retorted the Time Traveller.Then, when we had all imitated the action of the Medical Man, hesaid: Now I want you clearly to understand that this lever,being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future,and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents theseat of a time traveller. Presently I am going to press thelever, and off the machine will go. It will vanish, pass intofuture Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the thing. Lookat the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no trickery. Idont want to waste this model, and then be told Im a quack. There was a minutes pause perhaps. The Psychologist seemedabout to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the TimeTraveller put forth his finger towards the lever. No, he saidsuddenly. Lend me your hand. And turning to the Psychologist,he took that individuals hand in 7

his own and told him to put outhis forefinger. So that it was the Psychologist himself who sentforth the model Time Machine on its interminable voyage. We allsaw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was notrickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped.One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the littlemachine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as aghost for a second perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glitteringbrass and ivory; and it was gone-vanished! Save for the lampthe table was bare. Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he wasdamned. The Psychologist recovered from his stupor, and suddenly lookedunder the table. At that the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. Well? he said, with a reminiscence of the Psychologist. Then,getting up, he went to the tobacco jar on the mantel, and withhis back to us began to fill his pipe. We stared at each other. Look here, said the Medical Man, are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe thatthat machine has travelled into time? Certainly, said the Time Traveller, stooping to light a spillat the fire. Then he turned, lighting his pipe, to look at thePsychologists face. (The Psychologist, to show that he was notunhinged, helped himself to a cigar and tried to light it uncut.) What is more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there--heindicated the laboratory-- and when that is put together I meanto have a journey on my own account. You mean to say that that machine has travelled into thefuture? said Filby. Into the future or the past--I dont, for certain, knowwhich. After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. Itmust have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere, he said. Why? said the Time Traveller. Because I presume that it has not moved in space, and if ittravelled into the future it would still be here all this time,since it must have travelled through this time. But, I said, If it travelled into the past it would havebeen visible when we came first into this room; and last Thursdaywhen we were here; and the Thursday before that; and so forth! Serious objections, remarked the Provincial Mayor, with anair of impartiality, turning towards the Time Traveller. Not a bit, said the Time Traveller, and, to the Psychologist: You think. You can explain that. Its presentation below thethreshold, you know, diluted presentation. Of course, said the Psychologist, and reassured us. Thatsa simple point of psychology. I should have thought of it. Itsplain enough, and helps the paradox delightfully. We cannot seeit, nor can we appreciate this machine, any more 8

than we can thespoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air.If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred timesfaster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we getthrough a second, the impression it creates will of course beonly one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would make if itwere not travelling in time. Thats plain enough. He passedhis hand through the space in which the machine had been. Yousee? he said, laughing. We sat and stared at the vacant table for a minute or so. Thenthe Time Traveller asked us what we thought of it all. It sounds plausible enough to-night, said the Medical Man;but wait until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of themorning. Would you like to see the Time Machine itself? asked the TimeTraveller. And therewith, taking the lamp in his hand, he ledthe way down the long, draughty corridor to his laboratory. Iremember vividly the flickering light, his queer, broad head insilhouette, the dance of the shadows, how we all followed him,puzzled but incredulous, and how there in the laboratory webeheld a larger edition of the little mechanism which we had seenvanish from before our eyes. Parts were of nickel, parts ofivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rockcrystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twistedcrystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheetsof drawings, and I took one up for a better look at it. Quartzit seemed to be. Look here, said the Medical Man, are you perfectly serious?Or is this a trick--like that ghost you showed us lastChristmas? Upon that machine, said the Time Traveller, holding the lampaloft, I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was nevermore serious in my life. None of us quite knew how to take it. I caught Filbys eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, andhe winked at me solemnly. II I think that at that time none of us quite believed in theTime Machine. The fact is, the Time Traveller was one of thosemen who are too clever to be believed: you never felt that yousaw all round him; you always suspected some subtle reserve, someingenuity in ambush, behind his lucid frankness. Had Filby shownthe model and explained the matter in the Time Travellers words,we should have shown HIM far less scepticism. For we shouldhave perceived his motives; a pork butcher could understandFilby. But the Time Traveller had more than a touch of whimamong his elements, and we distrusted him. Things that wouldhave made the frame of a less clever man seemed tricks in hishands. It is a mistake to do things too easily. The 9

seriouspeople who took him seriously never felt quite sure of hisdeportment; they were somehow aware that trusting theirreputations for judgment with him was like furnishing a nurserywith egg-shell china. So I dont think any of us said very muchabout time travelling in the interval between that Thursday andthe next, though its odd potentialities ran, no doubt, in most ofour minds: its plausibility, that is, its practicalincredibleness, the curious possibilities of anachronism and ofutter confusion it suggested. For my own part, I wasparticularly preoccupied with the trick of the model. That Iremember discussing with the Medical Man, whom I met on Friday atthe Linnaean. He said he had seen a similar thing atTubingen, and laid considerable stress on the blowing outof the candle. But how the trick was done he could not explain. The next Thursday I went again to Richmond--I suppose I wasone of the Time Travellers most constant guests--and, arrivinglate, found four or five men already assembled in hisdrawing-room. The Medical Man was standing before the fire witha sheet of paper in one hand and his watch in the other. Ilooked round for the Time Traveller, and-- Its half-past sevennow, said the Medical Man. I suppose wed better have dinner? Wheres----? said I, naming our host. Youve just come? Its rather odd. Hes unavoidablydetained. He asks me in this note to lead off with dinner atseven if hes not back. Says hell explain when he comes. It seems a pity to let the dinner spoil, said the Editor ofa well-known daily paper; and thereupon the Doctor rang the bell. The Psychologist was the only person besides the Doctor andmyself who had attended the previous dinner. The other men wereBlank, the Editor aforementioned, a certain journalist, andanother--a quiet, shy man with a beard--whom I didnt know,and who, as far as my observation went, never opened his mouthall the evening. There was some speculation at the dinnertableabout the Time Travellers absence, and I suggested timetravelling, in a half-jocular spirit. The Editor wanted thatexplained to him, and the Psychologist volunteered a woodenaccount of the ingenious paradox and trick we had witnessedthat day week. He was in the midst of his exposition when thedoor from the corridor opened slowly and without noise. I wasfacing the door, and saw it first. Hallo! I said. At last!And the door opened wider, and the Time Traveller stood beforeus. I gave a cry of surprise. Good heavens! man, whats thematter? cried the Medical Man, who saw him next. And the wholetableful turned towards the door. He was in an amazing plight. His coat 10

was dusty and dirty,and smeared with green down the sleeves; his hair disordered, andas it seemed to me greyer--either with dust and dirt or becauseits colour had actually faded. His face was ghastly pale; hischin had a brown cut on it--a cut half healed; his expressionwas haggard and drawn, as by intense suffering. For a moment hehesitated in the doorway, as if he had been dazzled by the light.Then he came into the room. He walked with just such a limp asI have seen in footsore tramps. We stared at him in silence,expecting him to speak. He said not a word, but came painfully to the table, and madea motion towards the wine. The Editor filled a glass ofchampagne, and pushed it towards him. He drained it, and itseemed to do him good: for he looked round the table, and theghost of his old smile flickered across his face. What on earthhave you been up to, man? said the Doctor. The Time Travellerdid not seem to hear. Dont let me disturb you, he said, witha certain faltering articulation. Im all right. He stopped,held out his glass for more, and took it off at a draught. Thats good, he said. His eyes grew brighter, and a faintcolour came into his cheeks. His glance flickered over our faceswith a certain dull approval, and then went round the warm andcomfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were feelinghis way among his words. Im going to wash and dress, and thenIll come down and explain things. . . Save me some of thatmutton. Im starving for a bit of meat. He looked across at the Editor, who was a rare visitor, andhoped he was all right. The Editor began a question. Tell youpresently, said the Time Traveller. Im--funny! Be allright in a minute. He put down his glass, and walked towards the staircase door.Again I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of hisfootfall, and standing up in my place, I saw his feet as he wentout. He had nothing on them but a pair of tattered bloodstainedsocks. Then the door closed upon him. I had half a mind tofollow, till I remembered how he detested any fuss about himself.For a minute, perhaps, my mind was wool-gathering. Then,Remarkable Behaviour of an Eminent Scientist, I heard theEditor say, thinking (after his wont) in headlines. And thisbrought my attention back to the bright dinner-table. Whats the game? said the Journalist. Has he been doingthe Amateur Cadger? I dont follow. I met the eye of thePsychologist, and read my own interpretation in his face. Ithought of the Time Traveller limping painfully upstairs. Idont think any one else had noticed his lameness. The first to recover 11

completely from this surprise was theMedical Man, who rang the bell--the Time Traveller hated tohave servants waiting at dinner--for a hot plate. At that theEditor turned to his knife and fork with a grunt, and the SilentMan followed suit. The dinner was resumed. Conversation wasexclamatory for a little while, with gaps of wonderment; and thenthe Editor got fervent in his curiosity. Does our friend ekeout his modest income with a crossing? or has he hisNebuchadnezzar phases? he inquired. I feel assured its thisbusiness of the Time Machine, I said, and took up thePsychologists account of our previous meeting. The new guestswere frankly incredulous. The Editor raised objections. WhatWAS this time travelling? A man couldnt cover himself withdust by rolling in a paradox, could he? And then, as the ideacame home to him, he resorted to caricature. Hadnt they anyclothes-brushes in the Future? The Journalist too, would notbelieve at any price, and joined the Editor in the easy work ofheaping ridicule on the whole thing. They were both the new kindof journalist--very joyous, irreverent young men. Our SpecialCorrespondent in the Day after To-morrow reports, the Journalistwas saying--or rather shouting--when the Time Traveller cameback. He was dressed in ordinary evening clothes, and nothingsave his haggard look remained of the change that had startledme. I say, said the Editor hilariously, these chaps here sayyou have been travelling into the middle of next week! Tell usall about little Rosebery, will you? What will you take for thelot? The Time Traveller came to the place reserved for him withouta word. He smiled quietly, in his old way. Wheres my mutton?he said. What a treat it is to stick a fork into meat again! Story! cried the Editor. Story be damned! said the Time Traveller. I want somethingto eat. I wont say a word until I get some peptone into myarteries. Thanks. And the salt. One word, said I. Have you been time travelling? Yes, said the Time Traveller, with his mouth full, noddinghis head. Id give a shilling a line for a verbatim note, said theEditor. The Time Traveller pushed his glass towards the SilentMan and rang it with his fingernail; at which the Silent Man, whohad been staring at his face, started convulsively, and pouredhim wine. The rest of the dinner was uncomfortable. For my ownpart, sudden questions kept on rising to my lips, and I dare sayit was the same with the others. The Journalist tried to relievethe tension by telling anecdotes of Hettie Potter. The TimeTraveller devoted his attention to his dinner, and 12

displayed theappetite of a tramp. The Medical Man smoked a cigarette, andwatched the Time Traveller through his eyelashes. The Silent Manseemed even more clumsy than usual, and drank champagne withregularity and determination out of sheer nervousness. At lastthe Time Traveller pushed his plate away, and looked round us. I suppose I must apologize, he said. I was simply starving.Ive had a most amazing time. He reached out his hand for acigar, and cut the end. But come into the smoking-room. Itstoo long a story to tell over greasy plates. And ringing thebell in passing, he led the way into the adjoining room. You have told Blank, and Dash, and Chose about the machine?he said to me, leaning back in his easy-chair and naming thethree new guests. But the things a mere paradox, said the Editor. I cant argue to-night. I dont mind telling you the story,but I cant argue. I will, he went on, tell you the story ofwhat has happened to me, if you like, but you must refrain frominterruptions. I want to tell it. Badly. Most of it will soundlike lying. So be it! Its true--every word of it, all thesame. I was in my laboratory at four oclock, and since then . .. Ive lived eight days . . . such days as no human being everlived before! Im nearly worn out, but I shant sleep till Ivetold this thing over to you. Then I shall go to bed. But nointerruptions! Is it agreed? Agreed, said the Editor, and the rest of us echoed Agreed.And with that the Time Traveller began his story as I have setit forth. He sat back in his chair at first, and spoke like aweary man. Afterwards he got more animated. In writing it downI feel with only too much keenness the inadequacy of pen and ink-and, above all, my own inadequacy--to express its quality.You read, I will suppose, attentively enough; but you cannot seethe speakers white, sincere face in the bright circle of thelittle lamp, nor hear the intonation of his voice. You cannotknow how his expression followed the turns of his story! Most ofus hearers were in shadow, for the candles in the smoking-roomhad not been lighted, and only the face of the Journalist and thelegs of the Silent Man from the knees downward were illuminated.At first we glanced now and again at each other. After a time weceased to do that, and looked only at the Time Travellers face. III I told some of you last Thursday

of the principles of theTime Machine, and showed you the actual thing itself, incompletein the workshop. There it is now, a little travel-worn, truly;and one of the ivory bars is cracked, and a brass rail bent; butthe rest of its sound enough. I expected 13

to finish it onFriday, but on Friday, when the putting together was nearly done,I found that one of the nickel bars was exactly one inch tooshort, and this I had to get remade; so that the thing was notcomplete until this morning. It was at ten oclock to-day thatthe first of all Time Machines began its career. I gave it alast tap, tried all the screws again, put one more drop of oil onthe quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle. I suppose asuicide who holds a pistol to his skull feels much the samewonder at what will come next as I felt then. I took thestarting lever in one hand and the stopping one in the other,pressed the first, and almost immediately the second. I seemedto reel; I felt a nightmare sensation of falling; and, lookinground, I saw the laboratory exactly as before. Had anythinghappened? For a moment I suspected that my intellect had trickedme. Then I noted the clock. A moment before, as it seemed, ithad stood at a minute or so past ten; now it was nearly half-pastthree! I drew a breath, set my teeth, gripped the starting leverwith both hands, and went off with a thud. The laboratory gothazy and went dark. Mrs. Watchett came in and walked, apparentlywithout seeing me, towards the garden door. I suppose it tookher a minute or so to traverse the place, but to me she seemed toshoot across the room like a rocket. I pressed the lever over toits extreme position. The night came like the turning out of alamp, and in another moment came to-morrow. The laboratory grewfaint and hazy, then fainter and ever fainter. Tomorrow nightcame black, then day again, night again, day again, faster andfaster still. An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange,dumb confusedness descended on my mind. I am afraid I cannot convey the peculiar sensations of timetravelling. They are excessively unpleasant. There is a feelingexactly like that one has upon a switchback--of a helplessheadlong motion! I felt the same horrible anticipation, too, ofan imminent smash. As I put on pace, night followed day like theflapping of a black wing. The dim suggestion of the laboratoryseemed presently to fall away from me, and I saw the sun hoppingswiftly across the sky, leaping it every minute, and every minutemarking a day. I supposed the laboratory had been destroyed andI had come into the open air. I had a dim impression ofscaffolding, but I was already going too fast to be conscious ofany moving things. The slowest snail that ever crawled dashed bytoo fast for me. The twinkling succession of darkness and lightwas excessively painful to the eye. Then, in the intermittentdarknesses, I saw the moon spinning swiftly through 14

her quartersfrom new to full, and had a faint glimpse of the circling stars.Presently, as I went on, still gaining velocity, the palpitationof night and day merged into one continuous greyness; the skytook on a wonderful deepness of blue, a splendid luminous colorlike that of early twilight; the jerking sun became a streak offire, a brilliant arch, in space; the moon a fainter fluctuatingband; and I could see nothing of the stars, save now and then abrighter circle flickering in the blue. The landscape was misty and vague. I was still on thehill-side upon which this house now stands, and the shoulder roseabove me grey and dim. I saw trees growing and changing likepuffs of vapour, now brown, now green; they grew, spread,shivered, and passed away. I saw huge buildings rise up faintand fair, and pass like dreams. The whole surface of the earthseemed changed--melting and flowing under my eyes. The littlehands upon the dials that registered my speed raced round fasterand faster. Presently I noted that the sun belt swayed up anddown, from solstice to solstice, in a minute or less, and thatconsequently my pace was over a year a minute; and minute byminute the white snow flashed across the world, and vanished, andwas followed by the bright, brief green of spring. The unpleasant sensations of the start were less poignantnow. They merged at last into a kind of hysterical exhilaration.I remarked indeed a clumsy swaying of the machine, for which Iwas unable to account. But my mind was too confused to attend toit, so with a kind of madness growing upon me, I flung myselfinto futurity. At first I scarce thought of stopping, scarcethought of anything but these new sensations. But presently afresh series of impressions grew up in my mind--a certaincuriosity and therewith a certain dread--until at last theytook complete possession of me. What strange developments ofhumanity, what wonderful advances upon our rudimentarycivilization, I thought, might not appear when I came to looknearly into the dim elusive world that raced and fluctuatedbefore my eyes! I saw great and splendid architecture risingabout me, more massive than any buildings of our own time, andyet, as it seemed, built of glimmer and mist. I saw a richergreen flow up the hill-side, and remain there, without any wintryintermission. Even through the veil of my confusion the earthseemed very fair. And so my mind came round to the business ofstopping, The peculiar risk lay in the possibility of my finding somesubstance in the space which I, or the machine, occupied. Solong as I travelled at a high velocity through time, thisscarcely mattered; I was, so to 15

speak, attenuated--was slippinglike a vapour through the interstices of intervening substances!But to come to a stop involved the jamming of myself, molecule bymolecule, into whatever lay in my way; meant bringing my atomsinto such intimate contact with those of the obstacle that aprofound chemical reaction--possibly a far-reaching explosion--would result, and blow myself and my apparatus out of allpossible dimensions--into the Unknown. This possibility hadoccurred to me again and again while I was making the machine;but then I had cheerfully accepted it as an unavoidable risk--one of the risks a man has got to take! Now the risk wasinevitable, I no longer saw it in the same cheerful light. Thefact is that insensibly, the absolute strangeness of everything,the sickly jarring and swaying of the machine, above all, thefeeling of prolonged falling, had absolutely upset my nerve. Itold myself that I could never stop, and with a gust of petulanceI resolved to stop forthwith. Like an impatient fool, I luggedover the lever, and incontinently the thing went reeling over,and I was flung headlong through the air. There was the sound of a clap of thunder in my ears. I mayhave been stunned for a moment. A pitiless hail was hissinground me, and I was sitting on soft turf in front of the oversetmachine. Everything still seemed grey, but presently I remarkedthat the confusion in my ears was gone. I looked round me. I wason what seemed to be a little lawn in a garden, surrounded byrhododendron bushes, and I noticed that their mauve and purpleblossoms were dropping in a shower under the beating of thehail-stones. The rebounding, dancing hail hung in a cloud overthe machine, and drove along the ground like smoke. In a momentI was wet to the skin. "Fine hospitality," said I, "to a man whohas travelled innumerable years to see you." Presently I thought what a fool I was to get wet. I stood upand looked round me. A colossal figure, carved apparently insome white stone, loomed indistinctly beyond the rhododendronsthrough the hazy downpour. But all else of the world wasinvisible. My sensations would be hard to describe. As the columns ofhail grew thinner, I saw the white figure more distinctly. Itwas very large, for a silver birch-tree touched its shoulder. Itwas of white marble, in shape something like a winged sphinx, butthe wings, instead of being carried vertically at the sides, werespread so that it seemed to hover. The pedestal, it appeared tome, was of bronze, and was thick with verdigris. It chanced thatthe face was towards me; the sightless eyes seemed to watch 16

me;there was the faint shadow of a smile on the lips. It wasgreatly weather-worn, and that imparted an unpleasant suggestionof disease. I stood looking at it for a little space-half aminute, perhaps, or half an hour. It seemed to advance and torecede as the hail drove before it denser or thinner. At last Itore my eyes from it for a moment and saw that the hail curtainhad worn threadbare, and that the sky was lightening with thepromise of the Sun. I looked up again at the crouching white shape, and the fulltemerity of my voyage came suddenly upon me. What might appearwhen that hazy curtain was altogether withdrawn? What might nothave happened to men? What if cruelty had grown into a commonpassion? What if in this interval the race had lost itsmanliness and had developed into something inhuman,unsympathetic, and overwhelmingly powerful? I might seem someold-world savage animal, only the more dreadful and disgustingfor our common likeness--a foul creature to be incontinentlyslain. Already I saw other vast shapes--huge buildings withintricate parapets and tall columns, with a wooded hill-sidedimly creeping in upon me through the lessening storm. I wasseized with a panic fear. I turned frantically to the TimeMachine, and strove hard to readjust it. As I did so the shaftsof the sun smote through the thunderstorm. The grey downpour wasswept aside and vanished like the trailing garments of a ghost.Above me, in the intense blue of the summer sky, some faint brownshreds of cloud whirled into nothingness. The great buildingsabout me stood out clear and distinct, shining with the wet ofthe thunderstorm, and picked out in white by the unmeltedhailstones piled along their courses. I felt naked in a strangeworld. I felt as perhaps a bird may feel in the clear air,knowing the hawk wings above and will swoop. My fear grew tofrenzy. I took a breathing space, set my teeth, and againgrappled fiercely, wrist and knee, with the machine. It gaveunder my desperate onset and turned over. It struck my chinviolently. One hand on the saddle, the other on the lever, Istood panting heavily in attitude to mount again. But with this recovery of a prompt retreat my couragerecovered. I looked more curiously and less fearfully at thisworld of the remote future. In a circular opening, high up inthe wall of the nearer house, I saw a group of figures clad inrich soft robes. They had seen me, and their faces were directedtowards me. Then I heard voices approaching me. Coming through thebushes by the White Sphinx were the heads and shoulders of menrunning. 17

One of these emerged in a pathway leading straight tothe little lawn upon which I stood with my machine. He was aslight creature--perhaps four feet high--clad in a purpletunic, girdled at the waist with a leather belt. Sandals orbuskins--I could not clearly distinguish which--were on hisfeet; his legs were bare to the knees, and his head was bare.Noticing that, I noticed for the first time how warm the air was. He struck me as being a very beautiful and graceful creature,but indescribably frail. His flushed face reminded me of themore beautiful kind of consumptive--that hectic beauty of whichwe used to hear so much. At the sight of him I suddenly regainedconfidence. I took my hands from the machine. IV In another moment we were standing

face to face, I and thisfragile thing out of futurity. He came straight up to me andlaughed into my eyes. The absence from his bearing of any signof fear struck me at once. Then he turned to the two others whowere following him and spoke to them in a strange and very sweetand liquid tongue. There were others coming, and presently a little group ofperhaps eight or ten of these exquisite creatures were about me.One of them addressed me. It came into my head, oddly enough,that my voice was too harsh and deep for them. So I shook myhead, and, pointing to my ears, shook it again. He came a stepforward, hesitated, and then touched my hand. Then I felt othersoft little tentacles upon my back and shoulders. They wanted tomake sure I was real. There was nothing in this at all alarming.Indeed, there was something in these pretty little people thatinspired confidence--a graceful gentleness, a certain childlikeease. And besides, they looked so frail that I could fancymyself flinging the whole dozen of them about like nine-pins.But I made a sudden motion to warn them when I saw their littlepink hands feeling at the Time Machine. Happily then, when itwas not too late, I thought of a danger I had hitherto forgotten,and reaching over the bars of the machine I unscrewed the littlelevers that would set it in motion, and put these in my pocket.Then I turned again to see what I could do in the way ofcommunication. And then, looking more nearly into their features, I saw somefurther peculiarities in their Dresden-china type of prettiness.Their hair, which was uniformly curly, came to a sharp end at theneck and cheek; there was not the faintest suggestion of it onthe face, and their ears were singularly minute. The mouths weresmall, with bright red, rather thin lips, and the little chinsran to a point. The eyes were large and mild; and--this mayseem egotism on my 18

part--I fancied even that there was acertain lack of the interest I might have expected in them. As they made no effort to communicate with me, but simplystood round me smiling and speaking in soft cooing notes to eachother, I began the conversation. I pointed to the Time Machineand to myself. Then hesitating for a moment how to express time,I pointed to the sun. At once a quaintly pretty little figure inchequered purple and white followed my gesture, and thenastonished me by imitating the sound of thunder. For a moment I was staggered, though the import of hisgesture was plain enough. The question had come into my mindabruptly: were these creatures fools? You may hardly understandhow it took me. You see I had always anticipated that the peopleof the year Eight Hundred and Two Thousand odd would beincredibly in front of us in knowledge, art, everything. Thenone of them suddenly asked me a question that showed him to be onthe intellectual level of one of our five-year-old children--asked me, in fact, if I had come from the sun in a thunderstorm!It let loose the judgment I had suspended upon their clothes,their frail light limbs, and fragile features. A flow ofdisappointment rushed across my mind. For a moment I felt that Ihad built the Time Machine in vain. I nodded, pointed to the sun, and gave them such a vividrendering of a thunderclap as startled them. They all withdrew apace or so and bowed. Then came one laughing towards me,carrying a chain of beautiful flowers altogether new to me, andput it about my neck. The idea was received with melodiousapplause; and presently they were all running to and fro forflowers, and laughingly flinging them upon me until I was almostsmothered with blossom. You who have never seen the like canscarcely imagine what delicate and wonderful flowers countlessyears of culture had created. Then someone suggested that theirplaything should be exhibited in the nearest building, and so Iwas led past the sphinx of white marble, which had seemed towatch me all the while with a smile at my astonishment, towards avast grey edifice of fretted stone. As I went with them thememory of my confident anticipations of a profoundly grave andintellectual posterity came, with irresistible merriment, to mymind. The building had a huge entry, and was altogether of colossaldimensions. I was naturally most occupied with the growing crowdof little people, and with the big open portals that yawnedbefore me shadowy and mysterious. My general impression of theworld I saw over their heads was a tangled waste of beautifulbushes and flowers, a 19

long neglected and yet weedless garden. Isaw a number of tall spikes of strange white flowers, measuring afoot perhaps across the spread of the waxen petals. They grewscattered, as if wild, among the variegated shrubs, but, as Isay, I did not examine them closely at this time. The TimeMachine was left deserted on the turf among the rhododendrons. The arch of the doorway was richly carved, but naturally Idid not observe the carving very narrowly, though I fancied I sawsuggestions of old Phoenician decorations as I passed through,and it struck me that they were very badly broken and weather-worn. Several more brightly clad people met me in the doorway,and so we entered, I, dressed in dingy nineteenth-centurygarments, looking grotesque enough, garlanded with flowers, andsurrounded by an eddying mass of bright, soft-colored robes andshining white limbs, in a melodious whirl of laughter andlaughing speech. The big doorway opened into a proportionately great hall hungwith brown. The roof was in shadow, and the windows, partiallyglazed with coloured glass and partially unglazed, admitted atempered light. The floor was made up of huge blocks of somevery hard white metal, not plates nor slabs--blocks, and it wasso much worn, as I judged by the going to and fro of pastgenerations, as to be deeply channelled along the more frequentedways. Transverse to the length were innumerable tables made ofslabs of polished stone, raised perhaps a foot from the floor,and upon these were heaps of fruits. Some I recognized as a kindof hypertrophied raspberry and orange, but for the most part theywere strange. Between the tables was scattered a great number of cushions.Upon these my conductors seated themselves, signing for me to dolikewise. With a pretty absence of ceremony they began to eatthe fruit with their hands, flinging peel and stalks, and soforth, into the round openings in the sides of the tables. I wasnot loath to follow their example, for I felt thirsty and hungry.As I did so I surveyed the hall at my leisure. And perhaps the thing that struck me most was its dilapidatedlook. The stained-glass windows, which displayed only ageometrical pattern, were broken in many places, and the curtainsthat hung across the lower end were thick with dust. And itcaught my eye that the corner of the marble table near me wasfractured. Nevertheless, the general effect was extremely richand picturesque. There were, perhaps, a couple of hundred peopledining in the hall, and most of them, seated as near to me asthey could come, were watching me with interest, their littleeyes shining 20

over the fruit they were eating. All were clad inthe same soft and yet strong, silky material. Fruit, by the by, was all their diet. These people of theremote future were strict vegetarians, and while I was with them,in spite of some carnal cravings, I had to be frugivorous also.Indeed, I found afterwards that horses, cattle, sheep, dogs, hadfollowed the Ichthyosaurus into extinction. But the fruits werevery delightful; one, in particular, that seemed to be in seasonall the time I was there--a floury thing in a threesided husk--was especially good, and I made it my staple. At first I waspuzzled by all these strange fruits, and by the strange flowers Isaw, but later I began to perceive their import. However, I am telling you of my fruit dinner in the distantfuture now. So soon as my appetite was a little checked, Idetermined to make a resolute attempt to learn the speech ofthese new men of mine. Clearly that was the next thing to do.The fruits seemed a convenient thing to begin upon, and holdingone of these up I began a series of interrogative sounds andgestures. I had some considerable difficulty in conveying mymeaning. At first my efforts met with a stare of surprise orinextinguishable laughter, but presently a fair-haired littlecreature seemed to grasp my intention and repeated a name. Theyhad to chatter and explain the business at great length to eachother, and my first attempts to make the exquisite little soundsof their language caused an immense amount of amusement.However, I felt like a schoolmaster amidst children, andpersisted, and presently I had a score of noun substantives atleast at my command; and then I got to demonstrative pronouns,and even the verb "to eat." But it was slow work, and the littlepeople soon tired and wanted to get away from my interrogations,so I determined, rather of necessity, to let them give theirlessons in little doses when they felt inclined. And very littledoses I found they were before long, for I never met people moreindolent or more easily fatigued. A queer thing I soon discovered about my little hosts, andthat was their lack of interest. They would come to me witheager cries of astonishment, like children, but like childrenthey would soon stop examining me and wander away after someother toy. The dinner and my conversational beginnings ended, Inoted for the first time that almost all those who had surroundedme at first were gone. It is odd, too, how speedily I came todisregard these little people. I went out through the portalinto the sunlit world again as soon as my hunger was satisfied.I was continually meeting more of these men of the future, whowould follow me a little 21

distance, chatter and laugh about me,and, having smiled and gesticulated in a friendly way, leave meagain to my own devices. The calm of evening was upon the world as I emerged from thegreat hall, and the scene was lit by the warm glow of the settingsun. At first things were very confusing. Everything was soentirely different from the world I had known--even theflowers. The big building I had left was situated on the slopeof a broad river valley, but the Thames had shifted perhaps amile from its present position. I resolved to mount to thesummit of a crest perhaps a mile and a half away, from which Icould get a wider view of this our planet in the year EightHundred and Two Thousand Seven Hundred and One A.D. For that, Ishould explain, was the date the little dials of my machinerecorded. As I walked I was watching for every impression that couldpossibly help to explain the condition of ruinous splendour inwhich I found the world--for ruinous it was. A little way upthe hill, for instance, was a great heap of granite, boundtogether by masses of aluminium, a vast labyrinth of precipitouswalls and crumpled heaps, amidst which were thick heaps of verybeautiful pagoda-like plants-nettles possibly--but wonderfullytinted with brown about the leaves, and incapable of stinging.It was evidently the derelict remains of some vast structure, towhat end built I could not determine. It was here that I wasdestined, at a later date, to have a very strange experience--thefirst intimation of a still stranger discovery--but of that Iwill speak in its proper place. Looking round with a sudden thought, from a terrace on whichI rested for a while, I realized that there were no small housesto be seen. Apparently the single house, and possibly even thehousehold, had vanished. Here and there among the greenery werepalace-like buildings, but the house and the cottage, which formsuch characteristic features of our own English landscape, haddisappeared. "Communism," said I to myself. And on the heels of that came another thought. I looked atthe halfdozen little figures that were following me. Then, in aflash, I perceived that all had the same form of costume, thesame soft hairless visage, and the same girlish rotundity oflimb. It may seem strange, perhaps, that I had not noticed thisbefore. But everything was so strange. Now, I saw the factplainly enough. In costume, and in all the differences oftexture and bearing that now mark off the sexes from each other,these people of the future were alike. And the children seemedto my eyes to be but the miniatures of their parents. I judged,then, that the children of that time were extremely 22

precocious,physically at least, and I found afterwards abundant verificationof my opinion. Seeing the ease and security in which these people wereliving, I felt that this close resemblance of the sexes was afterall what one would expect; for the strength of a man and thesoftness of a woman, the institution of the family, and thedifferentiation of occupations are mere militant necessities ofan age of physical force; where population is balanced andabundant, much childbearing becomes an evil rather than ablessing to the State; where violence comes but rarely andoff-spring are secure, there is less necessity--indeed there isno necessity--for an efficient family, and the specializationof the sexes with reference to their childrens needs disappears.We see some beginnings of this even in our own time, and in thisfuture age it was complete. This, I must remind you, was myspeculation at the time. Later, I was to appreciate how far itfell short of the reality. While I was musing upon these things, my attention wasattracted by a pretty little structure, like a well under acupola. I thought in a transitory way of the oddness of wellsstill existing, and then resumed the thread of my speculations.There were no large buildings towards the top of the hill, and asmy walking powers were evidently miraculous, I was presently leftalone for the first time. With a strange sense of freedom andadventure I pushed on up to the crest. There I found a seat of some yellow metal that I did notrecognize, corroded in places with a kind of pinkish rust andhalf smothered in soft moss, the arm-rests cast and filed intothe resemblance of griffins heads. I sat down on it, and Isurveyed the broad view of our old world under the sunset of thatlong day. It was as sweet and fair a view as I have ever seen.The sun had already gone below the horizon and the west wasflaming gold, touched with some horizontal bars of purple andcrimson. Below was the valley of the Thames, in which the riverlay like a band of burnished steel. I have already spoken of thegreat palaces dotted about among the variegated greenery, some inruins and some still occupied. Here and there rose a white orsilvery figure in the waste garden of the earth, here and therecame the sharp vertical line of some cupola or obelisk. Therewere no hedges, no signs of proprietary rights, no evidences ofagriculture; the whole earth had become a garden. So watching, I began to put my interpretation upon the thingsI had seen, and as it shaped itself to me that evening, myinterpretation was something in this way. (Afterwards I found Ihad got only a half-truth--or only a glimpse of one facet ofthe truth.) 23

 It seemed to me that I had happened upon humanity upon thewane. The ruddy sunset set me thinking of the sunset of mankind.For the first time I began to realize an odd consequence of thesocial effort in which we are at present engaged. And yet, cometo think, it is a logical consequence enough. Strength is theoutcome of need; security sets a premium on feebleness. The workof ameliorating the conditions of life--the true civilizingprocess that makes life more and more secure--had gone steadilyon to a climax. One triumph of a united humanity over Nature hadfollowed another. Things that are now mere dreams had becomeprojects deliberately put in hand and carried forward. And theharvest was what I saw! After all, the sanitation and the agriculture of to-day arestill in the rudimentary stage. The science of our time hasattacked but a little department of the field of human disease,but even so, it spreads its operations very steadily andpersistently. Our agriculture and horticulture destroy a weedjust here and there and cultivate perhaps a score or so ofwholesome plants, leaving the greater number to fight out abalance as they can. We improve our favourite plants and animals--and how few they are--gradually by selective breeding; now anew and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter andlarger flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improvethem gradually, because our ideals are vague and tentative, andour knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy andslow in our clumsy hands. Some day all this will be betterorganized, and still better. That is the drift of the current inspite of the eddies. The whole world will be intelligent,educated, and co-operating; things will move faster and fastertowards the subjugation of Nature. In the end, wisely andcarefully we shall readjust the balance of animal and vegetableme to suit our human needs. This adjustment, I say, must have been done, and done well;done indeed for all Time, in the space of Time across which mymachine had leaped. The air was free from gnats, the earth fromweeds or fungi; everywhere were fruits and sweet and delightfulflowers; brilliant butterflies flew hither and thither. Theideal of preventive medicine was attained. Diseases had beenstamped out. I saw no evidence of any contagious diseases duringall my stay. And I shall have to tell you later that even theprocesses of putrefaction and decay had been profoundly affectedby these changes. Social triumphs, too, had been effected. I saw mankindhoused in splendid shelters, gloriously clothed, and as yet I hadfound them engaged in no toil. 24

There were no signs of struggle,neither social nor economical struggle. The shop, theadvertisement, traffic, all that commerce which constitutes thebody of our world, was gone. It was natural on that goldenevening that I should jump at the idea of a social paradise. Thedifficulty of increasing population had been met, I guessed, andpopulation had ceased to increase. But with this change in condition comes inevitablyadaptations to the change. What, unless biological science is amass of errors, is the cause of human intelligence and vigour?Hardship and freedom: conditions under which the active, strong,and subtle survive and the weaker go to the wall; conditions thatput a premium upon the loyal alliance of capable men, uponself-restraint, patience, and decision. And the institution ofthe family, and the emotions that arise therein, the fiercejealousy, the tenderness for offspring, parental self-devotion,all found their justification and support in the imminent dangersof the young. NOW, where are these imminent dangers? There isa sentiment arising, and it will grow, against connubialjealousy, against fierce maternity, against passion of all sorts;unnecessary things now, and things that make us uncomfortable,savage survivals, discords in a refined and pleasant life. I thought of the physical slightness of the people, theirlack of intelligence, and those big abundant ruins, and itstrengthened my belief in a perfect conquest of Nature. Forafter the battle comes Quiet. Humanity had been strong,energetic, and intelligent, and had used all its abundantvitality to alter the conditions under which it lived. And nowcame the reaction of the altered conditions. Under the new conditions of perfect comfort and security,that restless energy, that with us is strength, would becomeweakness. Even in our own time certain tendencies and desires,once necessary to survival, are a constant source of failure.Physical courage and the love of battle, for instance, are nogreat help--may even be hindrances--to a civilized man. Andin a state of physical balance and security, power, intellectualas well as physical, would be out of place. For countless yearsI judged there had been no danger of war or solitary violence, nodanger from wild beasts, no wasting disease to require strengthof constitution, no need of toil. For such a life, what weshould call the weak are as well equipped as the strong, areindeed no longer weak. Better equipped indeed they are, for thestrong would be fretted by an energy for which there was nooutlet. No doubt the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw wasthe outcome of the 25

last surgings of the now purposeless energy ofmankind before it settled down into perfect harmony with theconditions under which it lived--the flourish of that triumphwhich began the last great peace. This has ever been the fate ofenergy in security; it takes to art and to eroticism, and thencome languor and decay. Even this artistic impetus would at last die away--hadalmost died in the Time I saw. To adorn themselves with flowers,to dance, to sing in the sunlight: so much was left of theartistic spirit, and no more. Even that would fade in the endinto a contented inactivity. We are kept keen on the grindstoneof pain and necessity, and, it seemed to me, that here was thathateful grindstone broken at last! As I stood there in the gathering dark I thought that in thissimple explanation I had mastered the problem of the world--mastered the whole secret of these delicious people. Possiblythe checks they had devised for the increase of population hadsucceeded too well, and their numbers had rather diminished thankept stationary. That would account for the abandoned ruins.Very simple was my explanation, and plausible enough--as mostwrong theories are! V

As I stood there musing over this too perfect triumph of man,the full moon, yellow and gibbous, came up out of an overflow ofsilver light in the north-east. The bright little figures ceasedto move about below, a noiseless owl flitted by, and I shiveredwith the chill of the night. I determined to descend and findwhere I could sleep. I looked for the building I knew. Then my eye travelledalong to the figure of the White Sphinx upon the pedestal ofbronze, growing distinct as the light of the rising moon grewbrighter. I could see the silver birch against it. There wasthe tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, andthere was the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queerdoubt chilled my complacency. "No," said I stoutly to myself,"that was not the lawn." But it WAS the lawn. For the white leprous face of thesphinx was towards it. Can you imagine what I felt as thisconviction came home to me? But you cannot. The Time Machinewas gone! At once, like a lash across the face, came the possibility oflosing my own age, of being left helpless in this strange newworld. The bare thought of it was an actual physical sensation.I could feel it grip me at the throat and stop my breathing. Inanother moment I was in a passion of fear and running with greatleaping strides down the slope. Once I fell headlong and cut myface; I lost no time in stanching the blood, but jumped up andran on, with a warm trickle down my cheek and chin. All 26

the timeI ran I was saying to myself: "They have moved it a little,pushed it under the bushes out of the way." Nevertheless, I ranwith all my might. All the time, with the certainty thatsometimes comes with excessive dread, I knew that such assurancewas folly, knew instinctively that the machine was removed out ofmy reach. My breath came with pain. I suppose I covered thewhole distance from the hill crest to the little lawn, two milesperhaps, in ten minutes. And I am not a young man. I cursedaloud, as I ran, at my confident folly in leaving the machine,wasting good breath thereby. I cried aloud, and none answered.Not a creature seemed to be stirring in that moonlit world. When I reached the lawn my worst fears were realized. Not atrace of the thing was to be seen. I felt faint and cold when Ifaced the empty space among the black tangle of bushes. I ranround it furiously, as if the thing might be hidden in a corner,and then stopped abruptly, with my hands clutching my hair.Above me towered the sphinx, upon the bronze pedestal, white,shining, leprous, in the light of the rising moon. It seemed tosmile in mockery of my dismay. I might have consoled myself by imagining the little peoplehad put the mechanism in some shelter for me, had I not feltassured of their physical and intellectual inadequacy. That iswhat dismayed me: the sense of some hitherto unsuspected power,through whose intervention my invention had vanished. Yet, forone thing I felt assured: unless some other age had produced itsexact duplicate, the machine could not have moved in time. Theattachment of the levers--I will show you the method later--prevented any one from tampering with it in that way when theywere removed. It had moved, and was hid, only in space. Butthen, where could it be? I think I must have had a kind of frenzy. I remember runningviolently in and out among the moonlit bushes all round thesphinx, and startling some white animal that, in the dim light, Itook for a small deer. I remember, too, late that night, beatingthe bushes with my clenched fist until my knuckles were gashedand bleeding from the broken twigs. Then, sobbing and raving inmy anguish of mind, I went down to the great building of stone.The big hall was dark, silent, and deserted. I slipped on theuneven floor, and fell over one of the malachite tables, almostbreaking my shin. I lit a match and went on past the dustycurtains, of which I have told you. There I found a second great hall covered with cushions, uponwhich, perhaps, a score or so of the little people were sleeping.I have no doubt they found my second appearance strange 27

enough,coming suddenly out of the quiet darkness with inarticulatenoises and the splutter and flare of a match. For they hadforgotten about matches. "Where is my Time Machine?" I began,bawling like an angry child, laying hands upon them and shakingthem up together. It must have been very queer to them. Somelaughed, most of them looked sorely frightened. When I saw themstanding round me, it came into my head that I was doing asfoolish a thing as it was possible for me to do under thecircumstances, in trying to revive the sensation of fear. For,reasoning from their daylight behaviour, I thought that fear mustbe forgotten. Abruptly, I dashed down the match, and, knocking one of thepeople over in my course, went blundering across the bigdining-hall again, out under the moonlight. I heard cries ofterror and their little feet running and stumbling this way andthat. I do not remember all I did as the moon crept up the sky.I suppose it was the unexpected nature of my loss that maddenedme. I felt hopelessly cut off from my own kind--a strangeanimal in an unknown world. I must have raved to and fro,screaming and crying upon God and Fate. I have a memory ofhorrible fatigue, as the long night of despair wore away; oflooking in this impossible place and that; of groping amongmoon-lit ruins and touching strange creatures in the blackshadows; at last, of lying on the ground near the sphinx andweeping with absolute wretchedness. I had nothing left butmisery. Then I slept, and when I woke again it was full day, anda couple of sparrows were hopping round me on the turf withinreach of my arm. I sat up in the freshness of the morning, trying to rememberhow I had got there, and why I had such a profound sense ofdesertion and despair. Then things came clear in my mind. Withthe plain, reasonable daylight, I could look my circumstancesfairly in the face. I saw the wild folly of my frenzy overnight,and I could reason with myself. "Suppose the worst?" I said."Suppose the machine altogether lost--perhaps destroyed? Itbehooves me to be calm and patient, to learn the way of thepeople, to get a clear idea of the method of my loss, and themeans of getting materials and tools; so that in the end,perhaps, I may make another." That would be my only hope,perhaps, but better than despair. And, after all, it was abeautiful and curious world. But probably, the machine had only been taken away. Still, Imust be calm and patient, find its hidingplace, and recover itby force or cunning. And with that I scrambled to my feet andlooked about me, wondering where I could bathe. I felt weary,stiff, and travel-soiled. 28

The freshness of the morning made medesire an equal freshness. I had exhausted my emotion. Indeed,as I went about my business, I found myself wondering at myintense excitement overnight. I made a careful examination ofthe ground about the little lawn. I wasted some time in futilequestionings, conveyed, as well as I was able, to such of thelittle people as came by. They all failed to understand mygestures; some were simply stolid, some thought it was a jest andlaughed at me. I had the hardest task in the world to keep myhands off their pretty laughing faces. It was a foolish impulse,but the devil begotten of fear and blind anger was ill curbed andstill eager to take advantage of my perplexity. The turf gavebetter counsel. I found a groove ripped in it, about midwaybetween the pedestal of the sphinx and the marks of my feetwhere, on arrival, I had struggled with the overturned machine.There were other signs of removal about, with queer narrowfootprints like those I could imagine made by a sloth. Thisdirected my closer attention to the pedestal. It was, as I thinkI have said, of bronze. It was not a mere block, but highlydecorated with deep framed panels on either side. I went andrapped at these. The pedestal was hollow. Examining the panelswith care I found them discontinuous with the frames. There wereno handles or keyholes, but possibly the panels, if they weredoors, as I supposed, opened from within. One thing was clearenough to my mind. It took no very great mental effort to inferthat my Time Machine was inside that pedestal. But how it gotthere was a different problem. I saw the heads of two orange-clad people coming through thebushes and under some blossom-covered apple-trees towards me. Iturned smiling to them and beckoned them to me. They came, andthen, pointing to the bronze pedestal, I tried to intimate mywish to open it. But at my first gesture towards this theybehaved very oddly. I dont know how to convey their expressionto you. Suppose you were to use a grossly improper gesture to adelicate-minded woman--it is how she would look. They went offas if they had received the last possible insult. I tried asweet-looking little chap in white next, with exactly the sameresult. Somehow, his manner made me feel ashamed of myself.But, as you know, I wanted the Time Machine, and I tried him oncemore. As he turned off, like the others, my temper got thebetter of me. In three strides I was after him, had him by theloose part of his robe round the neck, and began dragging himtowards the sphinx. Then I saw the horror and repugnance of hisface, and all of a sudden I let him go. But 29

I was not beaten yet. I banged with my fist at thebronze panels. I thought I heard something stir inside--to beexplicit, I thought I heard a sound like a chuckle--but I musthave been mistaken. Then I got a big pebble from the river, andcame and hammered till I had flattened a coil in the decorations,and the verdigris came off in powdery flakes. The delicatelittle people must have heard me hammering in gusty outbreaks amile away on either hand, but nothing came of it. I saw a crowdof them upon the slopes, looking furtively at me. At last, hotand tired, I sat down to watch the place. But I was too restlessto watch long; I am too Occidental for a long vigil. I couldwork at a problem for years, but to wait inactive for twenty-fourhours--that is another matter. I got up after a time, and began walking aimlessly throughthe bushes towards the hill again. "Patience," said I to myself."If you want your machine again you must leave that sphinxalone. If they mean to take your machine away, its little goodyour wrecking their bronze panels, and if they dont, you willget it back as soon as you can ask for it. To sit among allthose unknown things before a puzzle like that is hopeless. Thatway lies monomania. Face this world. Learn its ways, watch it,be careful of too hasty guesses at its meaning. In the end youwill find clues to it all." Then suddenly the humour of thesituation came into my mind: the thought of the years I had spentin study and toil to get into the future age, and now my passionof anxiety to get out of it. I had made myself the mostcomplicated and the most hopeless trap that ever a man devised.Although it was at my own expense, I could not help myself. Ilaughed aloud. Going through the big palace, it seemed to me that the littlepeople avoided me. It may have been my fancy, or it may have hadsomething to do with my hammering at the gates of bronze. Yet Ifelt tolerably sure of the avoidance. I was careful, however, toshow no concern and to abstain from any pursuit of them, and inthe course of a day or two things got back to the old footing. Imade what progress I could in the language, and in addition Ipushed my explorations here and there. Either I missed somesubtle point or their language was excessively simple--almostexclusively composed of concrete substantives and verbs. Thereseemed to be few, if any, abstract terms, or little use offigurative language. Their sentences were usually simple and oftwo words, and I failed to convey or understand any but thesimplest propositions. I determined to put the thought of myTime Machine and the mystery of the bronze doors under the 30

sphinxas much as possible in a corner of memory, until my growingknowledge would lead me back to them in a natural way. Yet acertain feeling, you may understand, tethered me in a circle of afew miles round the point of my arrival. So far as I could see, all the world displayed the sameexuberant richness as the Thames valley. From every hill Iclimbed I saw the same abundance of splendid buildings, endlesslyvaried in material and style, the same clustering thickets ofevergreens, the same blossom-laden trees and tree-ferns. Hereand there water shone like silver, and beyond, the land rose intoblue undulating hills, and so faded into the serenity of the sky.A peculiar feature, which presently attracted my attention, wasthe presence of certain circular wells, several, as it seemed tome, of a very great depth. One lay by the path up the hill,which I had followed during my first walk. Like the others, itwas rimmed with bronze, curiously wrought, and protected by alittle cupola from the rain. Sitting by the side of these wells,and peering down into the shafted darkness, I could see no gleamof water, nor could I start any reflection with a lighted match.But in all of them I heard a certain sound: a thud-thud-thud,like the beating of some big engine; and I discovered, from theflaring of my matches, that a steady current of air set down theshafts. Further, I threw a scrap of paper into the throat ofone, and, instead of fluttering slowly down, it was at oncesucked swiftly out of sight. After a time, too, I came to connect these wells with talltowers standing here and there upon the slopes; for above themthere was often just such a flicker in the air as one sees on ahot day above a sun-scorched beach. Putting things together, Ireached a strong suggestion of an extensive system ofsubterranean ventilation, whose true import it was difficult toimagine. I was at first inclined to associate it with thesanitary apparatus of these people. It was an obviousconclusion, but it was absolutely wrong. And here I must admit that I learned very little of drainsand bells and modes of conveyance, and the like conveniences,during my time in this real future. In some of these visions ofUtopias and coming times which I have read, there is a vastamount of detail about building, and social arrangements, and soforth. But while such details are easy enough to obtain when thewhole world is contained in ones imagination, they arealtogether inaccessible to a real traveller amid such realitiesas I found here. Conceive the tale of London which a negro,fresh from Central Africa, would take back to his tribe! Whatwould he know of 31

railway companies, of social movements, oftelephone and telegraph wires, of the Parcels Delivery Company,and postal orders and the like? Yet we, at least, should bewilling enough to explain these things to him! And even of whathe knew, how much could he make his untravelled friend eitherapprehend or believe? Then, think how narrow the gap between anegro and a white man of our own times, and how wide the intervalbetween myself and these of the Golden Age! I was sensible ofmuch which was unseen, and which contributed to my comfort; butsave for a general impression of automatic organization, I fear Ican convey very little of the difference to your mind. In the matter of sepulchre, for instance, I could see nosigns of crematoria nor anything suggestive of tombs. But itoccurred to me that, possibly, there might be cemeteries (orcrematoria) somewhere beyond the range of my explorings. This,again, was a question I deliberately put to myself, and mycuriosity was at first entirely defeated upon the point. Thething puzzled me, and I was led to make a further remark, whichpuzzled me still more: that aged and infirm among this peoplethere were none. I must confess that my satisfaction with my first theories ofan automatic civilization and a decadent humanity did not longendure. Yet I could think of no other. Let me put mydifficulties. The several big palaces I had explored were mereliving places, great dining-halls and sleeping apartments. Icould find no machinery, no appliances of any kind. Yet thesepeople were clothed in pleasant fabrics that must at times needrenewal, and their sandals, though undecorated, were fairlycomplex specimens of metalwork. Somehow such things must bemade. And the little people displayed no vestige of a creativetendency. There were no shops, no workshops, no sign ofimportations among them. They spent all their time in playinggently, in bathing in the river, in making love in a half-playfulfashion, in eating fruit and sleeping. I could not see howthings were kept going. Then, again, about the Time Machine: something, I knew notwhat, had taken it into the hollow pedestal of the White Sphinx.Why? For the life of me I could not imagine. Those waterlesswells, too, those flickering pillars. I felt I lacked a clue. Ifelt-how shall I put it? Suppose you found an inscription,with sentences here and there in excellent plain English, andinterpolated therewith, others made up of words, of letters even,absolutely unknown to you? Well, on the third day of my visit,that was how the world of Eight Hundred and Two Thousand SevenHundred and One presented itself to 32

me! That day, too, I made a friend--of a sort. It happenedthat, as I was watching some of the little people bathing in ashallow, one of them was seized with cramp and began driftingdownstream. The main current ran rather swiftly, but not toostrongly for even a moderate swimmer. It will give you an idea,therefore, of the strange deficiency in these creatures, when Itell you that none made the slightest attempt to rescue theweakly crying little thing which was drowning before their eyes.When I realized this, I hurriedly slipped off my clothes, and,wading in at a point lower down, I caught the poor mite and drewher safe to land. A little rubbing of the limbs soon brought herround, and I had the satisfaction of seeing she was all rightbefore I left her. I had got to such a low estimate of her kindthat I did not expect any gratitude from her. In that, however,I was wrong. This happened in the morning. In the afternoon I met mylittle woman, as I believe it was, as I was returning towards mycentre from an exploration, and she received me with cries ofdelight and presented me with a big garland of flowers-evidently made for me and me alone. The thing took myimagination. Very possibly I had been feeling desolate. At anyrate I did my best to display my appreciation of the gift. Wewere soon seated together in a little stone arbour, engaged inconversation, chiefly of smiles. The creatures friendlinessaffected me exactly as a childs might have done. We passed eachother flowers, and she kissed my hands. I did the same to hers.Then I tried talk, and found that her name was Weena, which,though I dont know what it meant, somehow seemed appropriateenough. That was the beginning of a queer friendship whichlasted a week, and ended--as I will tell you! She was exactly like a child. She wanted to be with mealways. She tried to follow me everywhere, and on my nextjourney out and about it went to my heart to tire her down, andleave her at last, exhausted and calling after me ratherplaintively. But the problems of the world had to be mastered.I had not, I said to myself, come into the future to carry on aminiature flirtation. Yet her distress when I left her was verygreat, her expostulations at the parting were sometimes frantic,and I think, altogether, I had as much trouble as comfort fromher devotion. Nevertheless she was, somehow, a very greatcomfort. I thought it was mere childish affection that made hercling to me. Until it was too late, I did not clearly know whatI had inflicted upon her when I left her. Nor until it was toolate did I clearly understand what she was to me. For, by merelyseeming fond of me, and 33

showing in her weak, futile way that shecared for me, the little doll of a creature presently gave myreturn to the neighbourhood of the White Sphinx almost thefeeling of coming home; and I would watch for her tiny figure ofwhite and gold so soon as I came over the hill. It was from her, too, that I learned that fear had not yetleft the world. She was fearless enough in the daylight, and shehad the oddest confidence in me; for once, in a foolish moment, Imade threatening grimaces at her, and she simply laughed at them.But she dreaded the dark, dreaded shadows, dreaded black things.Darkness to her was the one thing dreadful. It was a singularlypassionate emotion, and it set me thinking and observing. Idiscovered then, among other things, that these little peoplegathered into the great houses after dark, and slept in droves.To enter upon them without a light was to put them into a tumultof apprehension. I never found one out of doors, or one sleepingalone within doors, after dark. Yet I was still such a blockheadthat I missed the lesson of that fear, and in spite of Weenasdistress I insisted upon sleeping away from these slumberingmultitudes. It troubled her greatly, but in the end her odd affection forme triumphed, and for five of the nights of our acquaintance,including the last night of all, she slept with her head pillowedon my arm. But my story slips away from me as I speak of her.It must have been the night before her rescue that I was awakenedabout dawn. I had been restless, dreaming most disagreeably thatI was drowned, and that sea anemones were feeling over my facewith their soft palps. I woke with a start, and with an oddfancy that some greyish animal had just rushed out of thechamber. I tried to get to sleep again, but I felt restless anduncomfortable. It was that dim grey hour when things are justcreeping out of darkness, when everything is colourless and clearcut, and yet unreal. I got up, and went down into the greathall, and so out upon the flagstones in front of the palace. Ithought I would make a virtue of necessity, and see the sunrise. The moon was setting, and the dying moonlight and the firstpallor of dawn were mingled in a ghastly half-light. The busheswere inky black, the ground a sombre grey, the sky colourless andcheerless. And up the hill I thought I could see ghosts. Thereseveral times, as I scanned the slope, I saw white figures.Twice I fancied I saw a solitary white, ape-like creature runningrather quickly up the hill, and once near the ruins I saw a leashof them carrying some dark body. They moved hastily. I did notsee what became of them. It 34

seemed that they vanished among thebushes. The dawn was still indistinct, you must understand. Iwas feeling that chill, uncertain, early-morning feeling you mayhave known. I doubted my eyes. As the eastern sky grew brighter, and the light of the daycame on and its vivid colouring returned upon the world oncemore, I scanned the view keenly. But I saw no vestige of mywhite figures. They were mere creatures of the half light."They must have been ghosts," I said; "I wonder whence theydated." For a queer notion of Grant Allens came into my head,and amused me. If each generation die and leave ghosts, heargued, the world at last will get overcrowded with them. Onthat theory they would have grown innumerable some Eight HundredThousand Years hence, and it was no great wonder to see four atonce. But the jest was unsatisfying, and I was thinking of thesefigures all the morning, until Weenas rescue drove them out ofmy head. I associated them in some indefinite way with the whiteanimal I had startled in my first passionate search for the TimeMachine. But Weena was a pleasant substitute. Yet all the same,they were soon destined to take far deadlier possession of mymind. I think I have said how much hotter than our own was theweather of this Golden Age. I cannot account for it. It may bethat the sun was hotter, or the earth nearer the sun. It isusual to assume that the sun will go on cooling steadily in thefuture. But people, unfamiliar with such speculations as thoseof the younger Darwin, forget that the planets must ultimatelyfall back one by one into the parent body. As these catastrophesoccur, the sun will blaze with renewed energy; and it may be thatsome inner planet had suffered this fate. Whatever the reason,the fact remains that the sun was very much hotter than we knowit. Well, one very hot morning--my fourth, I think--as I wasseeking shelter from the heat and glare in a colossal ruin nearthe great house where I slept and fed, there happened thisstrange thing: Clambering among these heaps of masonry, I found anarrow gallery, whose end and side windows were blocked by fallenmasses of stone. By contrast with the brilliancy outside, itseemed at first impenetrably dark to me. I entered it groping,for the change from light to blackness made spots of colour swimbefore me. Suddenly I halted spellbound. A pair of eyes,luminous by reflection against the daylight without, was watchingme out of the darkness. The old instinctive dread of wild beasts came upon me. Iclenched my hands and steadfastly looked into the glaringeyeballs. I was afraid to 35

turn. Then the thought of theabsolute security in which humanity appeared to be living came tomy mind. And then I remembered that strange terror of the dark.Overcoming my fear to some extent, I advanced a step and spoke.I will admit that my voice was harsh and ill-controlled. I putout my hand and touched something soft. At once the eyes dartedsideways, and something white ran past me. I turned with myheart in my mouth, and saw a queer little ape-like figure, itshead held down in a peculiar manner, running across the sunlitspace behind me. It blundered against a block of granite,staggered aside, and in a moment was hidden in a black shadowbeneath another pile of ruined masonry. My impression of it is, of course, imperfect; but I know itwas a dull white, and had strange large greyish-red eyes; alsothat there was flaxen hair on its head and down its back. But,as I say, it went too fast for me to see distinctly. I cannoteven say whether it ran on all-fours, or only with its forearmsheld very low. After an instants pause I followed it into thesecond heap of ruins. I could not find it at first; but, after atime in the profound obscurity, I came upon one of those roundwell-like openings of which I have told you, half closed by afallen pillar. A sudden thought came to me. Could this Thinghave vanished down the shaft? I lit a match, and, looking down,I saw a small, white, moving creature, with large bright eyeswhich regarded me steadfastly as it retreated. It made meshudder. It was so like a human spider! It was clambering downthe wall, and now I saw for the first time a number of metal footand hand rests forming a kind of ladder down the shaft. Then thelight burned my fingers and fell out of my hand, going out as itdropped, and when I had lit another the little monster haddisappeared. I do not know how long I sat peering down that well. It wasnot for some time that I could succeed in persuading myself thatthe thing I had seen was human. But, gradually, the truth dawnedon me: that Man had not remained one species, but haddifferentiated into two distinct animals: that my gracefulchildren of the Upper-world were not the sole descendants of ourgeneration, but that this bleached, obscene, nocturnal Thing,which had flashed before me, was also heir to all the ages. I thought of the flickering pillars and of my theory of anunderground ventilation. I began to suspect their true import.And what, I wondered, was this Lemur doing in my scheme of aperfectly balanced organization? How was it related to theindolent serenity of the beautiful Upper-worlders? And what washidden down there, at the foot of that shaft? I 36

sat upon theedge of the well telling myself that, at any rate, there wasnothing to fear, and that there I must descend for the solutionof my difficulties. And withal I was absolutely afraid to go!As I hesitated, two of the beautiful Upper-world people camerunning in their amorous sport across the daylight in the shadow.The male pursued the female, flinging flowers at her as he ran. They seemed distressed to find me, my arm against theoverturned pillar, peering down the well. Apparently it wasconsidered bad form to remark these apertures; for when I pointedto this one, and tried to frame a question about it in theirtongue, they were still more visibly distressed and turned away.But they were interested by my matches, and I struck some toamuse them. I tried them again about the well, and again Ifailed. So presently I left them, meaning to go back to Weena,and see what I could get from her. But my mind was already inrevolution; my guesses and impressions were slipping and slidingto a new adjustment. I had now a clue to the import of thesewells, to the ventilating towers, to the mystery of the ghosts;to say nothing of a hint at the meaning of the bronze gates andthe fate of the Time Machine! And very vaguely there came asuggestion towards the solution of the economic problem that hadpuzzled me. Here was the new view. Plainly, this second species of Manwas subterranean. There were three circumstances in particularwhich made me think that its rare emergence above ground was theoutcome of a long-continued underground habit. In the firstplace, there was the bleached look common in most animals thatlive largely in the dark--the white fish of the Kentucky caves,for instance. Then, those large eyes, with that capacity forreflecting light, are common features of nocturnal things--witness the owl and the cat. And last of all, that evidentconfusion in the sunshine, that hasty yet fumbling awkward flighttowards dark shadow, and that peculiar carriage of the head whilein the light--all reinforced the theory of an extremesensitiveness of the retina. Beneath my feet, then, the earth must be tunnelledenormously, and these tunnellings were the habitat of the newrace. The presence of ventilating shafts and wells along thehill slopes--everywhere, in fact except along the river valley--showed how universal were its ramifications. What so natural,then, as to assume that it was in this artificial Underworld thatsuch work as was necessary to the comfort of the daylight racewas done? The notion was so plausible that I at once acceptedit, and went on to assume the how of this splitting of the 37

humanspecies. I dare say you will anticipate the shape of my theory;though, for myself, I very soon felt that it fell far short ofthe truth. At first, proceeding from the problems of our own age, itseemed clear as daylight to me that the gradual widening of thepresent merely temporary and social difference between theCapitalist and the Labourer, was the key to the whole position.No doubt it will seem grotesque enough to you--and wildlyincredible!--and yet even now there are existing circumstancesto point that way. There is a tendency to utilize undergroundspace for the less ornamental purposes of civilization; there isthe Metropolitan Railway in London, for instance, there are newelectric railways, there are subways, there are undergroundworkrooms and restaurants, and they increase and multiply.Evidently, I thought, this tendency had increased till Industryhad gradually lost its birthright in the sky. I mean that it hadgone deeper and deeper into larger and ever larger undergroundfactories, spending a stillincreasing amount of its timetherein, till, in the end--! Even now, does not an Eastendworker live in such artificial conditions as practically to becut off from the natural surface of the earth? Again, the exclusive tendency of richer people--due, nodoubt, to the increasing refinement of their education, and thewidening gulf between them and the rude violence of the poor--is already leading to the closing, in their interest, ofconsiderable portions of the surface of the land. About London,for instance, perhaps half the prettier country is shut inagainst intrusion. And this same widening gulf--which is dueto the length and expense of the higher educational process andthe increased facilities for and temptations towards refinedhabits on the part of the rich--will make that exchange betweenclass and class, that promotion by intermarriage which at presentretards the splitting of our species along lines of socialstratification, less and less frequent. So, in the end, aboveground you must have the Haves, pursuing pleasure and comfort andbeauty, and below ground the Have-nots, the Workers gettingcontinually adapted to the conditions of their labour. Once theywere there, they would no doubt have to pay rent, and not alittle of it, for the ventilation of their caverns; and if theyrefused, they would starve or be suffocated for arrears. Such ofthem as were so constituted as to be miserable and rebelliouswould die; and, in the end, the balance being permanent, thesurvivors would become as well adapted to the conditions ofunderground life, and as happy in their way, as the Upper-worldpeople were to theirs. 38

As it seemed to me, the refined beautyand the etiolated pallor followed naturally enough. The great triumph of Humanity I had dreamed of took adifferent shape in my mind. It had been no such triumph of moraleducation and general co-operation as I had imagined. Instead, Isaw a real aristocracy, armed with a perfected science andworking to a logical conclusion the industrial system of to-day.Its triumph had not been simply a triumph over Nature, but atriumph over Nature and the fellow-man. This, I must warn you,was my theory at the time. I had no convenient cicerone in thepattern of the Utopian books. My explanation may be absolutelywrong. I still think it is the most plausible one. But even onthis supposition the balanced civilization that was at lastattained must have long since passed its zenith, and was now farfallen into decay. The too-perfect security of theUpper-worlders had led them to a slow movement of degeneration,to a general dwindling in size, strength, and intelligence. ThatI could see clearly enough already. What had happened to theUnder-grounders I did not yet suspect; but from what I had seenof the Morlocks--that, by the by, was the name by which thesecreatures were called--I could imagine that the modification ofthe human type was even far more profound than among the "Eloi,"the beautiful race that I already knew. Then came troublesome doubts. Why had the Morlocks taken myTime Machine? For I felt sure it was they who had taken it.Why, too, if the Eloi were masters, could they not restore themachine to me? And why were they so terribly afraid of the dark?I proceeded, as I have said, to question Weena about thisUnder-world, but here again I was disappointed. At first shewould not understand my questions, and presently she refused toanswer them. She shivered as though the topic was unendurable.And when I pressed her, perhaps a little harshly, she burst intotears. They were the only tears, except my own, I ever saw inthat Golden Age. When I saw them I ceased abruptly to troubleabout the Morlocks, and was only concerned in banishing thesesigns of the human inheritance from Weenas eyes. And very soonshe was smiling and clapping her hands, while I solemnly burned amatch. VI It may

seem odd to you, but it was two days before I couldfollow up the new-found clue in what was manifestly the properway. I felt a peculiar shrinking from those pallid bodies. Theywere just the half-bleached colour of the worms and things onesees preserved in spirit in a zoological museum. And they werefilthily cold to the touch. Probably my 39

shrinking was largelydue to the sympathetic influence of the Eloi, whose disgust ofthe Morlocks I now began to appreciate. The next night I did not sleep well. Probably my health wasa little disordered. I was oppressed with perplexity and doubt.Once or twice I had a feeling of intense fear for which I couldperceive no definite reason. I remember creeping noiselesslyinto the great hall where the little people were sleeping in themoonlight--that night Weena was among them--and feelingreassured by their presence. It occurred to me even then, thatin the course of a few days the moon must pass through its lastquarter, and the nights grow dark, when the appearances of theseunpleasant creatures from below, these whitened Lemurs, this newvermin that had replaced the old, might be more abundant. And onboth these days I had the restless feeling of one who shirks aninevitable duty. I felt assured that the Time Machine was onlyto be recovered by boldly penetrating these undergroundmysteries. Yet I could not face the mystery. If only I had hada companion it would have been different. But I was so horriblyalone, and even to clamber down into the darkness of the wellappalled me. I dont know if you will understand my feeling, butI never felt quite safe at my back. It was this restlessness, this insecurity, perhaps, thatdrove me further and further afield in my exploring expeditions.Going to the south-westward towards the rising country that isnow called Combe Wood, I observed far off, in the direction ofnineteenth-century Banstead, a vast green structure, different incharacter from any I had hitherto seen. It was larger than thelargest of the palaces or ruins I knew, and the facade had anOriental look: the face of it having the lustre, as well as thepale-green tint, a kind of bluish-green, of a certain type ofChinese porcelain. This difference in aspect suggested adifference in use, and I was minded to push on and explore. Butthe day was growing late, and I had come upon the sight of theplace after a long and tiring circuit; so I resolved to hold overthe adventure for the following day, and I returned to thewelcome and the caresses of little Weena. But next morning Iperceived clearly enough that my curiosity regarding the Palaceof Green Porcelain was a piece of self-deception, to enable me toshirk, by another day, an experience I dreaded. I resolved Iwould make the descent without further waste of time, and startedout in the early morning towards a well near the ruins of graniteand aluminium. Little Weena ran with me. She danced beside me to the well,but when she saw me lean over the mouth 40

and look downward, sheseemed strangely disconcerted. "Good-bye, Little Weena," I said,kissing her; and then putting her down, I began to feel over theparapet for the climbing hooks. Rather hastily, I may as wellconfess, for I feared my courage might leak away! At first shewatched me in amazement. Then she gave a most piteous cry, andrunning to me, she began to pull at me with her little hands. Ithink her opposition nerved me rather to proceed. I shook heroff, perhaps a little roughly, and in another moment I was in thethroat of the well. I saw her agonized face over the parapet,and smiled to reassure her. Then I had to look down at theunstable hooks to which I clung. I had to clamber down a shaft of perhaps two hundred yards.The descent was effected by means of metallic bars projectingfrom the sides of the well, and these being adapted to the needsof a creature much smaller and lighter than myself, I wasspeedily cramped and fatigued by the descent. And not simplyfatigued! One of the bars bent suddenly under my weight, andalmost swung me off into the blackness beneath. For a moment Ihung by one hand, and after that experience I did not dare torest again. Though my arms and back were presently acutelypainful, I went on clambering down the sheer descent with asquick a motion as possible. Glancing upward, I saw the aperture,a small blue disk, in which a star was visible, while littleWeenas head showed as a round black projection. The thuddingsound of a machine below grew louder and more oppressive.Everything save that little disk above was profoundly dark, andwhen I looked up again Weena had disappeared. I was in an agony of discomfort. I had some thought oftrying to go up the shaft again, and leave the Under-world alone.But even while I turned this over in my mind I continued todescend. At last, with intense relief, I saw dimly coming up, afoot to the right of me, a slender loophole in the wall.Swinging myself in, I found it was the aperture of a narrowhorizontal tunnel in which I could lie down and rest. It was nottoo soon. My arms ached, my back was cramped, and I wastrembling with the prolonged terror of a fall. Besides this, theunbroken darkness had had a distressing effect upon my eyes. Theair was full of the throb and hum of machinery pumping air downthe shaft. I do not know how long I lay. I was roused by a soft handtouching my face. Starting up in the darkness I snatched at mymatches and, hastily striking one, I saw three stooping whitecreatures similar to the one I had seen above ground in the ruin,hastily retreating before the light. Living, as they did, inwhat 41

appeared to me impenetrable darkness, their eyes wereabnormally large and sensitive, just as are the pupils of theabysmal fishes, and they reflected the light in the same way. Ihave no doubt they could see me in that rayless obscurity, andthey did not seem to have any fear of me apart from the light.But, so soon as I struck a match in order to see them, they fledincontinently, vanishing into dark gutters and tunnels, fromwhich their eyes glared at me in the strangest fashion. I tried to call to them, but the language they had wasapparently different from that of the Over-world people; so thatI was needs left to my own unaided efforts, and the thought offlight before exploration was even then in my mind. But I saidto myself, "You are in for it now," and, feeling my way along thetunnel, I found the noise of machinery grow louder. Presentlythe walls fell away from me, and I came to a large open space,and striking another match, saw that I had entered a vast archedcavern, which stretched into utter darkness beyond the range ofmy light. The view I had of it was as much as one could see inthe burning of a match. Necessarily my memory is vague. Great shapes like bigmachines rose out of the dimness, and cast grotesque blackshadows, in which dim spectral Morlocks sheltered from the glare.The place, by the by, was very stuffy and oppressive, and thefaint halitus of freshly shed blood was in the air. Some waydown the central vista was a little table of white metal, laidwith what seemed a meal. The Morlocks at any rate werecarnivorous! Even at the time, I remember wondering what largeanimal could have survived to furnish the red joint I saw. Itwas all very indistinct: the heavy smell, the big unmeaningshapes, the obscene figures lurking in the shadows, and onlywaiting for the darkness to come at me again! Then the matchburned down, and stung my fingers, and fell, a wriggling red spotin the blackness. I have thought since how particularly illequipped I was forsuch an experience. When I had started with the Time Machine, Ihad started with the absurd assumption that the men of the Futurewould certainly be infinitely ahead of ourselves in all theirappliances. I had come without arms, without medicine, withoutanything to smoke--at times I missed tobacco frightfully--evenwithout enough matches. If only I had thought of a Kodak! Icould have flashed that glimpse of the Underworld in a second,and examined it at leisure. But, as it was, I stood there withonly the weapons and the powers that Nature had endowed mewith--hands, feet, and teeth; these, and four safety-matches thatstill remained to me. I was afraid to 42

push my way in among all this machinery inthe dark, and it was only with my last glimpse of light Idiscovered that my store of matches had run low. It had neveroccurred to me until that moment that there was any need toeconomize them, and I had wasted almost half the box inastonishing the Upper-worlders, to whom fire was a novelty. Now,as I say, I had four left, and while I stood in the dark, a handtouched mine, lank fingers came feeling over my face, and I wassensible of a peculiar unpleasant odour. I fancied I heard thebreathing of a crowd of those dreadful little beings about me. Ifelt the box of matches in my hand being gently disengaged, andother hands behind me plucking at my clothing. The sense ofthese unseen creatures examining me was indescribably unpleasant.The sudden realization of my ignorance of their ways of thinkingand doing came home to me very vividly in the darkness. I shoutedat them as loudly as I could. They started away, and then Icould feel them approaching me again. They clutched at me moreboldly, whispering odd sounds to each other. I shiveredviolently, and shouted again rather discordantly. This time theywere not so seriously alarmed, and they made a queer laughingnoise as they came back at me. I will confess I was horriblyfrightened. I determined to strike another match and escapeunder the protection of its glare. I did so, and eking out theflicker with a scrap of paper from my pocket, I made good myretreat to the narrow tunnel. But I had scarce entered this whenmy light was blown out and in the blackness I could hear theMorlocks rustling like wind among leaves, and pattering like therain, as they hurried after me. In a moment I was clutched by several hands, and there was nomistaking that they were trying to haul me back. I struckanother light, and waved it in their dazzled faces. You canscarce imagine how nauseatingly inhuman they looked--those pale,chinless faces and great, lidless, pinkish-grey eyes!--as theystared in their blindness and bewilderment. But I did not stay tolook, I promise you: I retreated again, and when my second matchhad ended, I struck my third. It had almost burned through whenI reached the opening into the shaft. I lay down on the edge,for the throb of the great pump below made me giddy. Then I feltsideways for the projecting hooks, and, as I did so, my feet weregrasped from behind, and I was violently tugged backward. I litmy last match . . . and it incontinently went out. But I had myhand on the climbing bars now, and, kicking violently, Idisengaged myself from the clutches of the Morlocks and 43

wasspeedily clambering up the shaft, while they stayed peering andblinking up at me: all but one little wretch who followed me forsome way, and wellnigh secured my boot as a trophy. That climb seemed interminable to me. With the last twentyor thirty feet of it a deadly nausea came upon me. I had thegreatest difficulty in keeping my hold. The last few yards was afrightful struggle against this faintness. Several times my headswam, and I felt all the sensations of falling. At last,however, I got over the wellmouth somehow, and staggered out ofthe ruin into the blinding sunlight. I fell upon my face. Eventhe soil smelt sweet and clean. Then I remember Weena kissing myhands and ears, and the voices of others among the Eloi. Then,for a time, I was insensible. VII Now, indeed, I seemed in a worse case than before. Hitherto,except during my nights anguish at the loss of the Time Machine,I had felt a sustaining hope of ultimate escape, but that hopewas staggered by these new discoveries. Hitherto I had merelythought myself impeded by the childish simplicity of the littlepeople, and by some unknown forces which I had only to understandto overcome; but there was an altogether new element in thesickening quality of the Morlocks--a something inhuman andmalign. Instinctively I loathed them. Before, I had felt as aman might feel who had fallen into a pit: my concern was withthe pit and how to get out of it. Now I felt like a beast in atrap, whose enemy would come upon him soon. The enemy I dreaded may surprise you. It was the darkness ofthe new moon. Weena had put this into my head by some at firstincomprehensible remarks about the Dark Nights. It was not nowsuch a very difficult problem to guess what the coming DarkNights might mean. The moon was on the wane: each night therewas a longer interval of darkness. And I now understood to someslight degree at least the reason of the fear of the littleUpper-world people for the dark. I wondered vaguely what foulvillainy it might be that the Morlocks did under the new moon. Ifelt pretty sure now that my second hypothesis was all wrong.The Upper-world people might once have been the favouredaristocracy, and the Morlocks their mechanical servants: butthat had long since passed away. The two species that hadresulted from the evolution of man were sliding down towards, orhad already arrived at, an altogether new relationship. The Eloi,like the Carolingian kings, had decayed to a mere beautifulfutility. They still possessed the earth on sufferance: sincethe Morlocks, subterranean for innumerable generations, had comeat last to find the daylit surface 44

intolerable. And the Morlocksmade their garments, I inferred, and maintained them in theirhabitual needs, perhaps through the survival of an old habit ofservice. They did it as a standing horse paws with his foot, oras a man enjoys killing animals in sport: because ancient anddeparted necessities had impressed it on the organism. But,clearly, the old order was already in part reversed. The Nemesisof the delicate ones was creeping on apace. Ages ago, thousandsof generations ago, man had thrust his brother man out of theease and the sunshine. And now that brother was coming backchanged! Already the Eloi had begun to learn one old lessonanew. They were becoming reacquainted with Fear. And suddenlythere came into my head the memory of the meat I had seen in theUnder-world. It seemed odd how it floated into my mind: notstirred up as it were by the current of my meditations, butcoming in almost like a question from outside. I tried to recallthe form of it. I had a vague sense of something familiar, but Icould not tell what it was at the time. Still, however helpless the little people in the presence oftheir mysterious Fear, I was differently constituted. I came outof this age of ours, this ripe prime of the human race, when Feardoes not paralyse and mystery has lost its terrors. I at leastwould defend myself. Without further delay I determined to makemyself arms and a fastness where I might sleep. With that refugeas a base, I could face this strange world with some of thatconfidence I had lost in realizing to what creatures night bynight I lay exposed. I felt I could never sleep again until mybed was secure from them. I shuddered with horror to think howthey must already have examined me. I wandered during the afternoon along the valley of theThames, but found nothing that commended itself to my mind asinaccessible. All the buildings and trees seemed easilypracticable to such dexterous climbers as the Morlocks, to judgeby their wells, must be. Then the tall pinnacles of the Palaceof Green Porcelain and the polished gleam of its walls came backto my memory; and in the evening, taking Weena like a child uponmy shoulder, I went up the hills towards the south-west. Thedistance, I had reckoned, was seven or eight miles, but it musthave been nearer eighteen. I had first seen the place on a moistafternoon when distances are deceptively diminished. Inaddition, the heel of one of my shoes was loose, and a nail wasworking through the sole--they were comfortable old shoes I woreabout indoors--so that I was lame. And it was already long pastsunset when I came in sight of the palace, 45

silhouetted blackagainst the pale yellow of the sky. Weena had been hugely delighted when I began to carry her,but after a while she desired me to let her down, and ran alongby the side of me, occasionally darting off on either hand topick flowers to stick in my pockets. My pockets had alwayspuzzled Weena, but at the last she had concluded that they werean eccentric kind of vase for floral decoration. At least sheutilized them for that purpose. And that reminds me! Inchanging my jacket I found . . . The Time Traveller paused, put his hand into his pocket, andsilently placed two withered flowers, not unlike very large whitemallows, upon the little table. Then he resumed his narrative. As the hush of evening crept over the world and we proceededover the hill crest towards Wimbledon, Weena grew tired andwanted to return to the house of grey stone. But I pointed outthe distant pinnacles of the Palace of Green Porcelain to her,and contrived to make her understand that we were seeking arefuge there from her Fear. You know that great pause that comesupon things before the dusk? Even the breeze stops in the trees.To me there is always an air of expectation about that eveningstillness. The sky was clear, remote, and empty save for a fewhorizontal bars far down in the sunset. Well, that night theexpectation took the colour of my fears. In that darkling calmmy senses seemed preternaturally sharpened. I fancied I couldeven feel the hollowness of the ground beneath my feet: could,indeed, almost see through it the Morlocks on their ant-hillgoing hither and thither and waiting for the dark. In myexcitement I fancied that they would receive my invasion of theirburrows as a declaration of war. And why had they taken my TimeMachine? So we went on in the quiet, and the twilight deepened intonight. The clear blue of the distance faded, and one star afteranother came out. The ground grew dim and the trees black.Weenas fears and her fatigue grew upon her. I took her in myarms and talked to her and caressed her. Then, as the darknessgrew deeper, she put her arms round my neck, and, closing hereyes, tightly pressed her face against my shoulder. So we wentdown a long slope into a valley, and there in the dimness Ialmost walked into a little river. This I waded, and went up theopposite side of the valley, past a number of sleeping houses,and by a statue--a Faun, or some such figure, MINUS the head.Here too were acacias. So far I had seen nothing of theMorlocks, but it was yet early in the night, and the darker hoursbefore the old moon rose were still to come. From the brow of the 46

next hill I saw a thick wood spreadingwide and black before me. I hesitated at this. I could see noend to it, either to the right or the left. Feeling tired--myfeet, in particular, were very sore--I carefully lowered Weenafrom my shoulder as I halted, and sat down upon the turf. Icould no longer see the Palace of Green Porcelain, and I was indoubt of my direction. I looked into the thickness of the woodand thought of what it might hide. Under that dense tangle ofbranches one would be out of sight of the stars. Even were thereno other lurking danger--a danger I did not care to let myimagination loose upon-there would still be all the roots tostumble over and the tree-boles to strike against. I was very tired, too, after the excitements of the day; so Idecided that I would not face it, but would pass the night uponthe open hill. Weena, I was glad to find, was fast asleep. I carefullywrapped her in my jacket, and sat down beside her to wait for themoonrise. The hill-side was quiet and deserted, but from theblack of the wood there came now and then a stir of livingthings. Above me shone the stars, for the night was very clear.I felt a certain sense of friendly comfort in their twinkling.All the old constellations had gone from the sky, however: thatslow movement which is imperceptible in a hundred humanlifetimes, had long since rearranged them in unfamiliargroupings. But the Milky Way, it seemed to me, was still thesame tattered streamer of star-dust as of yore. Southward (as Ijudged it) was a very bright red star that was new to me; it waseven more splendid than our own green Sirius. And amid all thesescintillating points of light one bright planet shone kindly andsteadily like the face of an old friend. Looking at these stars suddenly dwarfed my own troubles andall the gravities of terrestrial life. I thought of theirunfathomable distance, and the slow inevitable drift of theirmovements out of the unknown past into the unknown future. Ithought of the great precessional cycle that the pole of theearth describes. Only forty times had that silent revolutionoccurred during all the years that I had traversed. And duringthese few revolutions all the activity, all the traditions, thecomplex organizations, the nations, languages, literatures,aspirations, even the mere memory of Man as I knew him, had beenswept out of existence. Instead were these frail creatures whohad forgotten their high ancestry, and the white Things of whichI went in terror. Then I thought of the Great Fear that wasbetween the two species, and for the first time, with a suddenshiver, came the clear knowledge of what the meat I had seenmight be. Yet it 47

was too horrible! I looked at little Weenasleeping beside me, her face white and starlike under the stars,and forthwith dismissed the thought. Through that long night I held my mind off the Morlocks aswell as I could, and whiled away the time by trying to fancy Icould find signs of the old constellations in the new confusion.The sky kept very clear, except for a hazy cloud or so. No doubtI dozed at times. Then, as my vigil wore on, came a faintness inthe eastward sky, like the reflection of some colourless fire,and the old moon rose, thin and peaked and white. And closebehind, and overtaking it, and overflowing it, the dawn came,pale at first, and then growing pink and warm. No Morlocks hadapproached us. Indeed, I had seen none upon the hill that night.And in the confidence of renewed day it almost seemed to me thatmy fear had been unreasonable. I stood up and found my foot withthe loose heel swollen at the ankle and painful under the heel;so I sat down again, took off my shoes, and flung them away. I awakened Weena, and we went down into the wood, now greenand pleasant instead of black and forbidding. We found somefruit wherewith to break our fast. We soon met others of thedainty ones, laughing and dancing in the sunlight as though therewas no such thing in nature as the night. And then I thoughtonce more of the meat that I had seen. I felt assured now ofwhat it was, and from the bottom of my heart I pitied this lastfeeble rill from the great flood of humanity. Clearly, at sometime in the Long-Ago of human decay the Morlocks food had runshort. Possibly they had lived on rats and such-like vermin.Even now man is far less discriminating and exclusive in his foodthan he was--far less than any monkey. His prejudice againsthuman flesh is no deep-seated instinct. And so these inhumansons of men----! I tried to look at the thing in a scientificspirit. After all, they were less human and more remote than ourcannibal ancestors of three or four thousand years ago. And theintelligence that would have made this state of things a tormenthad gone. Why should I trouble myself? These Eloi were merefatted cattle, which the ant-like Morlocks preserved and preyedupon-probably saw to the breeding of. And there was Weenadancing at my side! Then I tried to preserve myself from the horror that wascoming upon me, by regarding it as a rigorous punishment of humanselfishness. Man had been content to live in ease and delightupon the labours of his fellow-man, had taken Necessity as hiswatchword and excuse, and in the fullness of time Necessity hadcome home to him. I even tried a 48

Carlyle-like scorn of thiswretched aristocracy in decay. But this attitude of mind wasimpossible. However great their intellectual degradation, theEloi had kept too much of the human form not to claim mysympathy, and to make me perforce a sharer in their degradationand their Fear. I had at that time very vague ideas as to the course I shouldpursue. My first was to secure some safe place of refuge, and tomake myself such arms of metal or stone as I could contrive.That necessity was immediate. In the next place, I hoped toprocure some means of fire, so that I should have the weapon of atorch at hand, for nothing, I knew, would be more efficientagainst these Morlocks. Then I wanted to arrange somecontrivance to break open the doors of bronze under the WhiteSphinx. I had in mind a battering ram. I had a persuasion thatif I could enter those doors and carry a blaze of light before meI should discover the Time Machine and escape. I could notimagine the Morlocks were strong enough to move it far away.Weena I had resolved to bring with me to our own time. Andturning such schemes over in my mind I pursued our way towardsthe building which my fancy had chosen as our dwelling. VIII I found the Palace of Green Porcelain,

when we approached itabout noon, deserted and falling into ruin. Only ragged vestigesof glass remained in its windows, and great sheets of the greenfacing had fallen away from the corroded metallic framework. Itlay very high upon a turfy down, and looking north-eastwardbefore I entered it, I was surprised to see a large estuary, oreven creek, where I judged Wandsworth and Battersea must oncehave been. I thought then-though I never followed up thethought--of what might have happened, or might be happening, tothe living things in the sea. The material of the Palace proved on examination to be indeedporcelain, and along the face of it I saw an inscription in someunknown character. I thought, rather foolishly, that Weena mighthelp me to interpret this, but I only learned that the bare ideaof writing had never entered her head. She always seemed to me,I fancy, more human than she was, perhaps because her affectionwas so human. Within the big valves of the door--which were open andbroken--we found, instead of the customary hall, a long gallerylit by many side windows. At the first glance I was reminded ofa museum. The tiled floor was thick with dust, and a remarkablearray of miscellaneous objects was shrouded in the same greycovering. Then I perceived, standing strange and gaunt in thecentre of the hall, 49

what was clearly the lower part of a hugeskeleton. I recognized by the oblique feet that it was someextinct creature after the fashion of the Megatherium. The skulland the upper bones lay beside it in the thick dust, and in oneplace, where rain-water had dropped through a leak in the roof,the thing itself had been worn away. Further in the gallery wasthe huge skeleton barrel of a Brontosaurus. My museum hypothesiswas confirmed. Going towards the side I found what appeared to besloping shelves, and clearing away the thick dust, I found theold familiar glass cases of our own time. But they must havebeen air-tight to judge from the fair preservation of some oftheir contents. Clearly we stood among the ruins of some latter-day SouthKensington! Here, apparently, was the Palaeontological Section,and a very splendid array of fossils it must have been, thoughthe inevitable process of decay that had been staved off for atime, and had, through the extinction of bacteria and fungi, lostninety-nine hundredths of its force, was nevertheless, withextreme sureness if with extreme slowness at work again upon allits treasures. Here and there I found traces of the littlepeople in the shape of rare fossils broken to pieces or threadedin strings upon reeds. And the cases had in some instances beenbodily removed--by the Morlocks as I judged. The place was verysilent. The thick dust deadened our footsteps. Weena, who hadbeen rolling a sea urchin down the sloping glass of a case,presently came, as I stared about me, and very quietly took myhand and stood beside me. And at first I was so much surprised by this ancient monumentof an intellectual age, that I gave no thought to thepossibilities it presented. Even my preoccupation about the TimeMachine receded a little from my mind. To judge from the size of the place, this Palace of GreenPorcelain had a great deal more in it than a Gallery ofPalaeontology; possibly historical galleries; it might be, even alibrary! To me, at least in my present circumstances, thesewould be vastly more interesting than this spectacle of oldtimegeology in decay. Exploring, I found another short galleryrunning transversely to the first. This appeared to be devotedto minerals, and the sight of a block of sulphur set my mindrunning on gunpowder. But I could find no saltpeter; indeed, nonitrates of any kind. Doubtless they had deliquesced ages ago.Yet the sulphur hung in my mind, and set up a train of thinking.As for the rest of the contents of that gallery, though on thewhole they were the best preserved of all I saw, I had littleinterest. I am no specialist in mineralogy, and I went on down avery ruinous 50

aisle running parallel to the first hall I hadentered. Apparently this section had been devoted to naturalhistory, but everything had long since passed out of recognition.A few shrivelled and blackened vestiges of what had once beenstuffed animals, desiccated mummies in jars that had once heldspirit, a brown dust of departed plants: that was all! I wassorry for that, because I should have been glad to trace thepatent readjustments by which the conquest of animated nature hadbeen attained. Then we came to a gallery of simply colossalproportions, but singularly ill-lit, the floor of it runningdownward at a slight angle from the end at which I entered. Atintervals white globes hung from the ceiling--many of themcracked and smashed--which suggested that originally the placehad been artificially lit. Here I was more in my element, forrising on either side of me were the huge bulks of big machines,all greatly corroded and many broken down, but some still fairlycomplete. You know I have a certain weakness for mechanism, and Iwas inclined to linger among these; the more so as for the mostpart they had the interest of puzzles, and I could make only thevaguest guesses at what they were for. I fancied that if I couldsolve their puzzles I should find myself in possession of powersthat might be of use against the Morlocks. Suddenly Weena came very close to my side. So suddenly thatshe startled me. Had it not been for her I do not think I shouldhave noticed that the floor of the gallery sloped at all.[Footnote: It may be, of course, that the floor did not slope,but that the museum was built into the side of a hill.-ED.] Theend I had come in at was quite above ground, and was lit by rareslit-like windows. As you went down the length, the ground cameup against these windows, until at last there was a pit like the"area" of a London house before each, and only a narrow line ofdaylight at the top. I went slowly along, puzzling about themachines, and had been too intent upon them to notice the gradualdiminution of the light, until Weenas increasing apprehensionsdrew my attention. Then I saw that the gallery ran down at lastinto a thick darkness. I hesitated, and then, as I looked roundme, I saw that the dust was less abundant and its surface lesseven. Further away towards the dimness, it appeared to be brokenby a number of small narrow footprints. My sense of theimmediate presence of the Morlocks revived at that. I felt thatI was wasting my time in the academic examination of machinery.I called to mind that it was already far advanced in theafternoon, and that I had still no weapon, no refuge, and nomeans of making a fire. 51

And then down in the remote blackness ofthe gallery I heard a peculiar pattering, and the same odd noisesI had heard down the well. I took Weenas hand. Then, struck with a sudden idea, I lefther and turned to a machine from which projected a lever notunlike those in a signal-box. Clambering upon the stand, andgrasping this lever in my hands, I put all my weight upon itsideways. Suddenly Weena, deserted in the central aisle, beganto whimper. I had judged the strength of the lever prettycorrectly, for it snapped after a minutes strain, and I rejoinedher with a mace in my hand more than sufficient, I judged, forany Morlock skull I might encounter. And I longed very much tokill a Morlock or so. Very inhuman, you may think, to want to gokilling ones own descendants! But it was impossible, somehow,to feel any humanity in the things. Only my disinclination toleave Weena, and a persuasion that if I began to slake my thirstfor murder my Time Machine might suffer, restrained me from goingstraight down the gallery and killing the brutes I heard. Well, mace in one hand and Weena in the other, I went out ofthat gallery and into another and still larger one, which at thefirst glance reminded me of a military chapel hung with tatteredflags. The brown and charred rags that hung from the sides ofit, I presently recognized as the decaying vestiges of books.They had long since dropped to pieces, and every semblance ofprint had left them. But here and there were warped boards andcracked metallic clasps that told the tale well enough. Had Ibeen a literary man I might, perhaps, have moralized upon thefutility of all ambition. But as it was, the thing that struckme with keenest force was the enormous waste of labour to whichthis sombre wilderness of rotting paper testified. At the time Iwill confess that I thought chiefly of the PHILOSOPHICALTRANSACTIONS and my own seventeen papers upon physical optics. Then, going up a broad staircase, we came to what may oncehave been a gallery of technical chemistry. And here I had not alittle hope of useful discoveries. Except at one end where theroof had collapsed, this gallery was well preserved. I wenteagerly to every unbroken case. And at last, in one of thereally air-tight cases, I found a box of matches. Very eagerly Itried them. They were perfectly good. They were not even damp.I turned to Weena. "Dance," I cried to her in her own tongue.For now I had a weapon indeed against the horrible creatures wefeared. And so, in that derelict museum, upon the thick softcarpeting of dust, to Weenas huge delight, I solemnly performeda kind of composite 52

dance, whistling THE LAND OF THE LEAL ascheerfully as I could. In part it was a modest CANCAN, in parta step dance, in part a skirt-dance (so far as my tailcoatpermitted), and in part original. For I am naturally inventive,as you know. Now, I still think that for this box of matches to haveescaped the wear of time for immemorial years was a most strange,as for me it was a most fortunate thing. Yet, oddly enough, Ifound a far unlikelier substance, and that was camphor. I foundit in a sealed jar, that by chance, I suppose, had been reallyhermetically sealed. I fancied at first that it was paraffinwax, and smashed the glass accordingly. But the odour of camphorwas unmistakable. In the universal decay this volatile substancehad chanced to survive, perhaps through many thousands ofcenturies. It reminded me of a sepia painting I had once seendone from the ink of a fossil Belemnite that must have perishedand become fossilized millions of years ago. I was about tothrow it away, but I remembered that it was inflammable andburned with a good bright flame--was, in fact, an excellentcandle-and I put it in my pocket. I found no explosives,however, nor any means of breaking down the bronze doors. As yetmy iron crowbar was the most helpful thing I had chanced upon.Nevertheless I left that gallery greatly elated. I cannot tell you all the story of that long afternoon. Itwould require a great effort of memory to recall my explorationsin at all the proper order. I remember a long gallery of rustingstands of arms, and how I hesitated between my crowbar and ahatchet or a sword. I could not carry both, however, and my barof iron promised best against the bronze gates. There werenumbers of guns, pistols, and rifles. The most were masses ofrust, but many were of some new metal, and still fairly sound.But any cartridges or powder there may once have been had rottedinto dust. One corner I saw was charred and shattered; perhaps,I thought, by an explosion among the specimens. In another placewas a vast array of idols--Polynesian, Mexican, Grecian,Phoenician, every country on earth I should think. And here,yielding to an irresistible impulse, I wrote my name upon thenose of a steatite monster from South America that particularlytook my fancy. As the evening drew on, my interest waned. I went throughgallery after gallery, dusty, silent, often ruinous, the exhibitssometimes mere heaps of rust and lignite, sometimes fresher. Inone place I suddenly found myself near the model of a tin-mine,and then by the merest accident I discovered, in an air-tightcase, two dynamite cartridges! I shouted "Eureka!" and 53

smashedthe case with joy. Then came a doubt. I hesitated. Then,selecting a little side gallery, I made my essay. I never feltsuch a disappointment as I did in waiting five, ten, fifteenminutes for an explosion that never came. Of course the thingswere dummies, as I might have guessed from their presence. Ireally believe that had they not been so, I should have rushedoff incontinently and blown Sphinx, bronze doors, and (as itproved) my chances of finding the Time Machine, all together intononexistence. It was after that, I think, that we came to a little opencourt within the palace. It was turfed, and had three fruit-trees. So we rested and refreshed ourselves. Towards sunset Ibegan to consider our position. Night was creeping upon us, andmy inaccessible hiding-place had still to be found. But thattroubled me very little now. I had in my possession a thing thatwas, perhaps, the best of all defences against the Morlocks--Ihad matches! I had the camphor in my pocket, too, if a blazewere needed. It seemed to me that the best thing we could dowould be to pass the night in the open, protected by a fire. Inthe morning there was the getting of the Time Machine. Towardsthat, as yet, I had only my iron mace. But now, with my growingknowledge, I felt very differently towards those bronze doors.Up to this, I had refrained from forcing them, largely because ofthe mystery on the other side. They had never impressed me asbeing very strong, and I hoped to find my bar of iron notaltogether inadequate for the work. IX

We emerged from the palace while the sun was still in partabove the horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinxearly the next morning, and ere the dusk I purposed pushingthrough the woods that had stopped me on the previous journey.My plan was to go as far as possible that night, and then,building a fire, to sleep in the protection of its glare.Accordingly, as we went along I gathered any sticks or driedgrass I saw, and presently had my arms full of such litter. Thusloaded, our progress was slower than I had anticipated, andbesides Weena was tired. And I began to suffer from sleepinesstoo; so that it was full night before we reached the wood. Uponthe shrubby hill of its edge Weena would have stopped, fearingthe darkness before us; but a singular sense of impendingcalamity, that should indeed have served me as a warning, droveme onward. I had been without sleep for a night and two days,and I was feverish and irritable. I felt sleep coming upon me,and the Morlocks with it. While we hesitated, among the black bushes behind us, and dimagainst their blackness, I saw 54

three crouching figures. Therewas scrub and long grass all about us, and I did not feel safefrom their insidious approach. The forest, I calculated, wasrather less than a mile across. If we could get through it tothe bare hill-side, there, as it seemed to me, was an altogethersafer resting-place; I thought that with my matches and mycamphor I could contrive to keep my path illuminated through thewoods. Yet it was evident that if I was to flourish matches withmy hands I should have to abandon my firewood; so, ratherreluctantly, I put it down. And then it came into my head that Iwould amaze our friends behind by lighting it. I was to discoverthe atrocious folly of this proceeding, but it came to my mind asan ingenious move for covering our retreat. I dont know if you have ever thought what a rare thing flamemust be in the absence of man and in a temperate climate. Thesuns heat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when it isfocused by dewdrops, as is sometimes the case in more tropicaldistricts. Lightning may blast and blacken, but it rarely givesrise to widespread fire. Decaying vegetation may occasionallysmoulder with the heat of its fermentation, but this rarelyresults in flame. In this decadence, too, the art of fire-makinghad been forgotten on the earth. The red tongues that wentlicking up my heap of wood were an altogether new and strangething to Weena. She wanted to run to it and play with it. I believe shewould have cast herself into it had I not restrained her. But Icaught her up, and in spite of her struggles, plunged boldlybefore me into the wood. For a little way the glare of my firelit the path. Looking back presently, I could see, through thecrowded stems, that from my heap of sticks the blaze had spreadto some bushes adjacent, and a curved line of fire was creepingup the grass of the hill. I laughed at that, and turned again tothe dark trees before me. It was very black, and Weena clung tome convulsively, but there was still, as my eyes grew accustomedto the darkness, sufficient light for me to avoid the stems.Overhead it was simply black, except where a gap of remote bluesky shone down upon us here and there. I struck none of mymatches because I had no hand free. Upon my left arm I carriedmy little one, in my right hand I had my iron bar. For some way I heard nothing but the crackling twigs under myfeet, the faint rustle of the breeze above, and my own breathingand the throb of the blood-vessels in my ears. Then I seemed toknow of a pattering about me. I pushed on grimly. The patteringgrew more distinct, and then I caught the same queer sound andvoices I had heard in the Under55

world. There were evidentlyseveral of the Morlocks, and they were closing in upon me.Indeed, in another minute I felt a tug at my coat, then somethingat my arm. And Weena shivered violently, and became quite still. It was time for a match. But to get one I must put her down.I did so, and, as I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began inthe darkness about my knees, perfectly silent on her part andwith the same peculiar cooing sounds from the Morlocks. Softlittle hands, too, were creeping over my coat and back, touchingeven my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed. I held itflaring, and saw the white backs of the Morlocks in flight amidthe trees. I hastily took a lump of camphor from my pocket, andprepared to light is as soon as the match should wane. Then Ilooked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet and quitemotionless, with her face to the ground. With a sudden fright Istooped to her. She seemed scarcely to breathe. I lit the blockof camphor and flung it to the ground, and as it split and flaredup and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I knelt down andlifted her. The wood behind seemed full of the stir and murmurof a great company! She seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon myshoulder and rose to push on, and then there came a horriblerealization. In manoeuvring with my matches and Weena, I hadturned myself about several times, and now I had not the faintestidea in what direction lay my path. For all I knew, I might befacing back towards the Palace of Green Porcelain. I foundmyself in a cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do. Idetermined to build a fire and encamp where we were. I putWeena, still motionless, down upon a turfy bole, and veryhastily, as my first lump of camphor waned, I began collectingsticks and leaves. Here and there out of the darkness round methe Morlocks eyes shone like carbuncles. The camphor flickered and went out. I lit a match, and as Idid so, two white forms that had been approaching Weena dashedhastily away. One was so blinded by the light that he camestraight for me, and I felt his bones grind under the blow of myfist. He gave a whoop of dismay, staggered a little way, andfell down. I lit another piece of camphor, and went on gatheringmy bonfire. Presently I noticed how dry was some of the foliageabove me, for since my arrival on the Time Machine, a matter of aweek, no rain had fallen. So, instead of casting about among thetrees for fallen twigs, I began leaping up and dragging downbranches. Very soon I had a choking smoky fire of green wood anddry sticks, and could economize my camphor. 56

Then I turned towhere Weena lay beside my iron mace. I tried what I could torevive her, but she lay like one dead. I could not even satisfymyself whether or not she breathed. Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and it musthave made me heavy of a sudden. Moreover, the vapour of camphorwas in the air. My fire would not need replenishing for an houror so. I felt very weary after my exertion, and sat down. Thewood, too, was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did notunderstand. I seemed just to nod and open my eyes. But all wasdark, and the Morlocks had their hands upon me. Flinging offtheir clinging fingers I hastily felt in my pocket for thematchbox, and--it had gone! Then they gripped and closed withme again. In a moment I knew what had happened. I had slept,and my fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came overmy soul. The forest seemed full of the smell of burning wood. Iwas caught by the neck, by the hair, by the arms, and pulleddown. It was indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel allthese soft creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was in amonstrous spiders web. I was overpowered, and went down. Ifelt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over, and as Idid so my hand came against my iron lever. It gave me strength.I struggled up, shaking the human rats from me, and, holding thebar short, I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I couldfeel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under my blows, andfor a moment I was free. The strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hardfighting came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena were lost,but I determined to make the Morlocks pay for their meat. Istood with my back to a tree, swinging the iron bar before me.The whole wood was full of the stir and cries of them. A minutepassed. Their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch ofexcitement, and their movements grew faster. Yet none camewithin reach. I stood glaring at the blackness. Then suddenlycame hope. What if the Morlocks were afraid? And close on theheels of that came a strange thing. The darkness seemed to growluminous. Very dimly I began to see the Morlocks about me--threebattered at my feet--and then I recognized, with increduloussurprise, that the others were running, in an incessant stream,as it seemed, from behind me, and away through the wood in front.And their backs seemed no longer white, but reddish. As I stoodagape, I saw a little red spark go drifting across a gap ofstarlight between the branches, and vanish. And at that Iunderstood the smell of burning wood, the slumbrous murmur thatwas 57

growing now into a gusty roar, the red glow, and theMorlocks flight. Stepping out from behind my tree and looking back, I saw,through the black pillars of the nearer trees, the flames of theburning forest. It was my first fire coming after me. With thatI looked for Weena, but she was gone. The hissing and cracklingbehind me, the explosive thud as each fresh tree burst intoflame, left little time for reflection. My iron bar stillgripped, I followed in the Morlocks path. It was a close race.Once the flames crept forward so swiftly on my right as I ranthat I was outflanked and had to strike off to the left. But atlast I emerged upon a small open space, and as I did so, aMorlock came blundering towards me, and past me, and went onstraight into the fire! And now I was to see the most weird and horrible thing, Ithink, of all that I beheld in that future age. This whole spacewas as bright as day with the reflection of the fire. In thecentre was a hillock or tumulus, surmounted by a scorchedhawthorn. Beyond this was another arm of the burning forest,with yellow tongues already writhing from it, completelyencircling the space with a fence of fire. Upon the hill-sidewere some thirty or forty Morlocks, dazzled by the light andheat, and blundering hither and thither against each other intheir bewilderment. At first I did not realize their blindness,and struck furiously at them with my bar, in a frenzy of fear, asthey approached me, killing one and crippling several more. Butwhen I had watched the gestures of one of them groping under thehawthorn against the red sky, and heard their moans, I wasassured of their absolute helplessness and misery in the glare,and I struck no more of them. Yet every now and then one would come straight towards me,setting loose a quivering horror that made me quick to elude him.At one time the flames died down somewhat, and I feared the foulcreatures would presently be able to see me. I was thinking ofbeginning the fight by killing some of them before this shouldhappen; but the fire burst out again brightly, and I stayed myhand. I walked about the hill among them and avoided them,looking for some trace of Weena. But Weena was gone. At last I sat down on the summit of the hillock, and watchedthis strange incredible company of blind things groping to andfro, and making uncanny noises to each other, as the glare of thefire beat on them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed acrossthe sky, and through the rare tatters of that red canopy, remoteas though they belonged to another universe, shone the littlestars. Two or three Morlocks came blundering into me, and Idrove them off with blows of my fists, trembling 58

as I did so. For the most part of that night I was persuaded it was anightmare. I bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire toawake. I beat the ground with my hands, and got up and sat downagain, and wandered here and there, and again sat down. Then Iwould fall to rubbing my eyes and calling upon God to let meawake. Thrice I saw Morlocks put their heads down in a kind ofagony and rush into the flames. But, at last, above thesubsiding red of the fire, above the streaming masses of blacksmoke and the whitening and blackening tree stumps, and thediminishing numbers of these dim creatures, came the white lightof the day. I searched again for traces of Weena, but there were none.It was plain that they had left her poor little body in theforest. I cannot describe how it relieved me to think that ithad escaped the awful fate to which it seemed destined. As Ithought of that, I was almost moved to begin a massacre of thehelpless abominations about me, but I contained myself. Thehillock, as I have said, was a kind of island in the forest.From its summit I could now make out through a haze of smoke thePalace of Green Porcelain, and from that I could get my bearingsfor the White Sphinx. And so, leaving the remnant of thesedamned souls still going hither and thither and moaning, as theday grew clearer, I tied some grass about my feet and limped onacross smoking ashes and among black stems, that still pulsatedinternally with fire, towards the hiding-place of the TimeMachine. I walked slowly, for I was almost exhausted, as well aslame, and I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horribledeath of little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now,in this old familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a dreamthan an actual loss. But that morning it left me absolutelylonely again--terribly alone. I began to think of this house ofmine, of this fireside, of some of you, and with such thoughtscame a longing that was pain. But as I walked over the smoking ashes under the brightmorning sky, I made a discovery. In my trouser pocket were stillsome loose matches. The box must have leaked before it was lost. X About eight or nine in the morning I came to the same seat

ofyellow metal from which I had viewed the world upon the eveningof my arrival. I thought of my hasty conclusions upon thatevening and could not refrain from laughing bitterly at myconfidence. Here was the same beautiful scene, the same abundantfoliage, the same splendid palaces and magnificent ruins, thesame silver river running between its fertile banks. The gayrobes of the beautiful people moved hither 59

and thither among thetrees. Some were bathing in exactly the place where I had savedWeena, and that suddenly gave me a keen stab of pain. And likeblots upon the landscape rose the cupolas above the ways to theUnder-world. I understood now what all the beauty of the Over-world people covered. Very pleasant was their day, as pleasantas the day of the cattle in the field. Like the cattle, theyknew of no enemies and provided against no needs. And their endwas the same. I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellecthad been. It had committed suicide. It had set itselfsteadfastly towards comfort and ease, a balanced society withsecurity and permanency as its watchword, it had attained itshopes--to come to this at last. Once, life and property musthave reached almost absolute safety. The rich had been assuredof his wealth and comfort, the toiler assured of his life andwork. No doubt in that perfect world there had been nounemployed problem, no social question left unsolved. And agreat quiet had followed. It is a law of nature we overlook, that intellectualversatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble.An animal perfectly in harmony with its environment is a perfectmechanism. Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit andinstinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is nochange and no need of change. Only those animals partake ofintelligence that have to meet a huge variety of needs anddangers. So, as I see it, the Upper-world man had drifted towards hisfeeble prettiness, and the Under-world to mere mechanicalindustry. But that perfect state had lacked one thing even formechanical perfection--absolute permanency. Apparently as timewent on, the feeding of the Under-world, however it was effected,had become disjointed. Mother Necessity, who had been staved offfor a few thousand years, came back again, and she began below.The Under-world being in contact with machinery, which, howeverperfect, still needs some little thought outside habit, hadprobably retained perforce rather more initiative, if less ofevery other human character, than the Upper. And when other meatfailed them, they turned to what old habit had hithertoforbidden. So I say I saw it in my last view of the world ofEight Hundred and Two Thousand Seven Hundred and One. It may beas wrong an explanation as mortal wit could invent. It is howthe thing shaped itself to me, and as that I give it to you. After the fatigues, excitements, and terrors of the pastdays, and in spite of my grief, this seat and the tranquil viewand the warm sunlight were very 60

pleasant. I was very tired andsleepy, and soon my theorizing passed into dozing. Catchingmyself at that, I took my own hint, and spreading myself out uponthe turf I had a long and refreshing sleep. I awoke a little before sunsetting. I now felt safe againstbeing caught napping by the Morlocks, and, stretching myself, Icame on down the hill towards the White Sphinx. I had my crowbarin one hand, and the other hand played with the matches in mypocket. And now came a most unexpected thing. As I approached thepedestal of the sphinx I found the bronze valves were open. Theyhad slid down into grooves. At that I stopped short before them, hesitating to enter. Within was a small apartment, and on a raised place in thecorner of this was the Time Machine. I had the small levers inmy pocket. So here, after all my elaborate preparations for thesiege of the White Sphinx, was a meek surrender. I threw my ironbar away, almost sorry not to use it. A sudden thought came into my head as I stooped towards theportal. For once, at least, I grasped the mental operations ofthe Morlocks. Suppressing a strong inclination to laugh, Istepped through the bronze frame and up to the Time Machine. Iwas surprised to find it had been carefully oiled and cleaned. Ihave suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially takenit to pieces while trying in their dim way to grasp its purpose. Now as I stood and examined it, finding a pleasure in themere touch of the contrivance, the thing I had expected happened.The bronze panels suddenly slid up and struck the frame with aclang. I was in the dark--trapped. So the Morlocks thought. Atthat I chuckled gleefully. I could already hear their murmuring laughter as they cametowards me. Very calmly I tried to strike the match. I had onlyto fix on the levers and depart then like a ghost. But I hadoverlooked one little thing. The matches were of that abominablekind that light only on the box. You may imagine how all my calm vanished. The little bruteswere close upon me. One touched me. I made a sweeping blow inthe dark at them with the levers, and began to scramble into thesaddle of the machine. Then came one hand upon me and thenanother. Then I had simply to fight against their persistentfingers for my levers, and at the same time feel for the studsover which these fitted. One, indeed, they almost got away fromme. As it slipped from my hand, I had to butt in the dark withmy head--I could hear the Morlocks skull ring--to recover it.It was a nearer thing than the fight in the forest, I think, thislast scramble. But at last the lever was fitted and pulled over. 61

Theclinging hands slipped from me. The darkness presently fell frommy eyes. I found myself in the same grey light and tumult I havealready described. XI I

have already told you of the sickness and confusion thatcomes with time travelling. And this time I was not seatedproperly in the saddle, but sideways and in an unstable fashion.For an indefinite time I clung to the machine as it swayed andvibrated, quite unheeding how I went, and when I brought myselfto look at the dials again I was amazed to find where I hadarrived. One dial records days, and another thousands of days,another millions of days, and another thousands of millions.Now, instead of reversing the levers, I had pulled them over soas to go forward with them, and when I came to look at theseindicators I found that the thousands hand was sweeping round asfast as the seconds hand of a watch--into futurity. As I drove on, a peculiar change crept over the appearance ofthings. The palpitating greyness grew darker; then-though I wasstill travelling with prodigious velocity--the blinkingsuccession of day and night, which was usually indicative of aslower pace, returned, and grew more and more marked. Thispuzzled me very much at first. The alternations of night and daygrew slower and slower, and so did the passage of the sun acrossthe sky, until they seemed to stretch through centuries. At lasta steady twilight brooded over the earth, a twilight only brokennow and then when a comet glared across the darkling sky. Theband of light that had indicated the sun had long sincedisappeared; for the sun had ceased to set--it simply rose andfell in the west, and grew ever broader and more red. All traceof the moon had vanished. The circling of the stars, growingslower and slower, had given place to creeping points of light.At last, some time before I stopped, the sun, red and very large,halted motionless upon the horizon, a vast dome glowing with adull heat, and now and then suffering a momentary extinction. Atone time it had for a little while glowed more brilliantly again,but it speedily reverted to its sullen red heat. I perceived bythis slowing down of its rising and setting that the work of thetidal drag was done. The earth had come to rest with one face tothe sun, even as in our own time the moon faces the earth. Verycautiously, for I remembered my former headlong fall, I began toreverse my motion. Slower and slower went the circling handsuntil the thousands one seemed motionless and the daily one wasno longer a mere mist upon its scale. Still slower, until thedim outlines of a desolate beach grew visible. I stopped very gently 62

and sat upon the Time Machine, lookinground. The sky was no longer blue. Northeastward it was inkyblack, and out of the blackness shone brightly and steadily thepale white stars. Overhead it was a deep Indian red andstarless, and south-eastward it grew brighter to a glowingscarlet where, cut by the horizon, lay the huge hull of the sun,red and motionless. The rocks about me were of a harsh reddishcolour, and all the trace of life that I could see at first wasthe intensely green vegetation that covered every projectingpoint on their south-eastern face. It was the same rich greenthat one sees on forest moss or on the lichen in caves: plantswhich like these grow in a perpetual twilight. The machine was standing on a sloping beach. The seastretched away to the southwest, to rise into a sharp brighthorizon against the wan sky. There were no breakers and nowaves, for not a breath of wind was stirring. Only a slight oilyswell rose and fell like a gentle breathing, and showed that theeternal sea was still moving and living. And along the marginwhere the water sometimes broke was a thick incrustation ofsalt--pink under the lurid sky. There was a sense of oppressionin my head, and I noticed that I was breathing very fast. Thesensation reminded me of my only experience of mountaineering,and from that I judged the air to be more rarefied than it isnow. Far away up the desolate slope I heard a harsh scream, andsaw a thing like a huge white butterfly go slanting andflittering up into the sky and, circling, disappear over some lowhillocks beyond. The sound of its voice was so dismal that Ishivered and seated myself more firmly upon the machine. Lookinground me again, I saw that, quite near, what I had taken to be areddish mass of rock was moving slowly towards me. Then I sawthe thing was really a monstrous crab-like creature. Can youimagine a crab as large as yonder table, with its many legsmoving slowly and uncertainly, its big claws swaying, its longantennae, like carters whips, waving and feeling, and itsstalked eyes gleaming at you on either side of its metallicfront? Its back was corrugated and ornamented with ungainlybosses, and a greenish incrustation blotched it here and there.I could see the many palps of its complicated mouth flickeringand feeling as it moved. As I stared at this sinister apparition crawling towards me,I felt a tickling on my cheek as though a fly had lighted there.I tried to brush it away with my hand, but in a moment itreturned, and almost immediately came another by my ear. Istruck at this, and caught something threadlike. It was drawnswiftly out of my hand. With a frightful 63

qualm, I turned, and Isaw that I had grasped the antenna of another monster crab thatstood just behind me. Its evil eyes were wriggling on theirstalks, its mouth was all alive with appetite, and its vastungainly claws, smeared with an algal slime, were descending uponme. In a moment my hand was on the lever, and I had placed amonth between myself and these monsters. But I was still on thesame beach, and I saw them distinctly now as soon as I stopped.Dozens of them seemed to be crawling here and there, in thesombre light, among the foliated sheets of intense green. I cannot convey the sense of abominable desolation that hungover the world. The red eastern sky, the northward blackness,the salt Dead Sea, the stony beach crawling with these foul,slowstirring monsters, the uniform poisonous-looking green ofthe lichenous plants, the thin air that hurts ones lungs: allcontributed to an appalling effect. I moved on a hundred years,and there was the same red sun--a little larger, a littleduller--the same dying sea, the same chill air, and the samecrowd of earthy crustacea creeping in and out among the greenweed and the red rocks. And in the westward sky, I saw a curvedpale line like a vast new moon. So I travelled, stopping ever and again, in great strides ofa thousand years or more, drawn on by the mystery of the earthsfate, watching with a strange fascination the sun grow larger andduller in the westward sky, and the life of the old earth ebbaway. At last, more than thirty million years hence, the hugered-hot dome of the sun had come to obscure nearly a tenth partof the darkling heavens. Then I stopped once more, for thecrawling multitude of crabs had disappeared, and the red beach,save for its livid green liverworts and lichens, seemed lifeless.And now it was flecked with white. A bitter cold assailed me.Rare white flakes ever and again came eddying down. To thenorth-eastward, the glare of snow lay under the starlight of thesable sky and I could see an undulating crest of hillocks pinkishwhite. There were fringes of ice along the sea margin, withdrifting masses further out; but the main expanse of that saltocean, all bloody under the eternal sunset, was still unfrozen. I looked about me to see if any traces of animal liferemained. A certain indefinable apprehension still kept me inthe saddle of the machine. But I saw nothing moving, in earth orsky or sea. The green slime on the rocks alone testified thatlife was not extinct. A shallow sandbank had appeared in the seaand the water had receded from the beach. I fancied I saw someblack object flopping about upon this bank, but it 64

becamemotionless as I looked at it, and I judged that my eye had beendeceived, and that the black object was merely a rock. The starsin the sky were intensely bright and seemed to me to twinkle verylittle. Suddenly I noticed that the circular westward outline of thesun had changed; that a concavity, a bay, had appeared in thecurve. I saw this grow larger. For a minute perhaps I staredaghast at this blackness that was creeping over the day, and thenI realized that an eclipse was beginning. Either the moon or theplanet Mercury was passing across the suns disk. Naturally, atfirst I took it to be the moon, but there is much to incline meto believe that what I really saw was the transit of an innerplanet passing very near to the earth. The darkness grew apace; a cold wind began to blow infreshening gusts from the east, and the showering white flakes inthe air increased in number. From the edge of the sea came aripple and whisper. Beyond these lifeless sounds the world wassilent. Silent? It would be hard to convey the stillness of it.All the sounds of man, the bleating of sheep, the cries ofbirds, the hum of insects, the stir that makes the background ofour lives--all that was over. As the darkness thickened, theeddying flakes grew more abundant, dancing before my eyes; andthe cold of the air more intense. At last, one by one, swiftly,one after the other, the white peaks of the distant hillsvanished into blackness. The breeze rose to a moaning wind. Isaw the black central shadow of the eclipse sweeping towards me.In another moment the pale stars alone were visible. All elsewas rayless obscurity. The sky was absolutely black. A horror of this great darkness came on me. The cold, thatsmote to my marrow, and the pain I felt in breathing, overcameme. I shivered, and a deadly nausea seized me. Then like ared-hot bow in the sky appeared the edge of the sun. I got offthe machine to recover myself. I felt giddy and incapable offacing the return journey. As I stood sick and confused I sawagain the moving thing upon the shoal--there was no mistake nowthat it was a moving thing--against the red water of the sea. Itwas a round thing, the size of a football perhaps, or, it may be,bigger, and tentacles trailed down from it; it seemed blackagainst the weltering blood-red water, and it was hoppingfitfully about. Then I felt I was fainting. But a terribledread of lying helpless in that remote and awful twilightsustained me while I clambered upon the saddle. XII So I came back. For a long time I must have been

insensibleupon the machine. The blinking succession of the days and nightswas 65

resumed, the sun got golden again, the sky blue. I breathedwith greater freedom. The fluctuating contours of the land ebbedand flowed. The hands spun backward upon the dials. At last Isaw again the dim shadows of houses, the evidences of decadenthumanity. These, too, changed and passed, and others came.Presently, when the million dial was at zero, I slackened speed.I began to recognize our own petty and familiar architecture, thethousands hand ran back to the starting-point, the night and dayflapped slower and slower. Then the old walls of the laboratorycame round me. Very gently, now, I slowed the mechanism down. I saw one little thing that seemed odd to me. I think I havetold you that when I set out, before my velocity became veryhigh, Mrs. Watchett had walked across the room, travelling, asit seemed to me, like a rocket. As I returned, I passed againacross that minute when she traversed the laboratory. But nowher every motion appeared to be the exact inversion of herprevious ones. The door at the lower end opened, and she glidedquietly up the laboratory, back foremost, and disappeared behindthe door by which she had previously entered. Just before that Iseemed to see Hillyer for a moment; but he passed like a flash. Then I stopped the machine, and saw about me again the oldfamiliar laboratory, my tools, my appliances just as I had leftthem. I got off the thing very shaky, and sat down upon mybench. For several minutes I trembled violently. Then I becamecalmer. Around me was my old workshop again, exactly as it hadbeen. I might have slept there, and the whole thing have been adream. And yet, not exactly! The thing had started from thesouth-east corner of the laboratory. It had come to rest againin the north-west, against the wall where you saw it. That givesyou the exact distance from my little lawn to the pedestal of theWhite Sphinx, into which the Morlocks had carried my machine. For a time my brain went stagnant. Presently I got up andcame through the passage here, limping, because my heel was stillpainful, and feeling sorely begrimed. I saw the PALL MALLGAZETTE on the table by the door. I found the date was indeedto-day, and looking at the timepiece, saw the hour was almosteight oclock. I heard your voices and the clatter of plates. Ihesitated--I felt so sick and weak. Then I sniffed goodwholesome meat, and opened the door on you. You know the rest.I washed, and dined, and now I am telling you the story. I know, he said, after a pause, that all this will beabsolutely incredible to you. To me the one incredible thing isthat I am here to-night in this old 66

familiar room looking intoyour friendly faces and telling you these strange adventures. He looked at the Medical Man. No. I cannot expect you tobelieve it. Take it as a lie-or a prophecy. Say I dreamed itin the workshop. Consider I have been speculating upon thedestinies of our race until I have hatched this fiction. Treatmy assertion of its truth as a mere stroke of art to enhance itsinterest. And taking it as a story, what do you think of it? He took up his pipe, and began, in his old accustomed manner,to tap with it nervously upon the bars of the grate. There was amomentary stillness. Then chairs began to creak and shoes toscrape upon the carpet. I took my eyes off the Time Travellersface, and looked round at his audience. They were in the dark,and little spots of colour swam before them. The Medical Manseemed absorbed in the contemplation of our host. The Editor waslooking hard at the end of his cigar--the sixth. The Journalistfumbled for his watch. The others, as far as I remember, weremotionless. The Editor stood up with a sigh. What a pity it is yourenot a writer of stories! he said, putting his hand on the TimeTravellers shoulder. You dont believe it? Well---- I thought not. The Time Traveller turned to us. Where are the matches? hesaid. He lit one and spoke over his pipe, puffing. To tell youthe truth . . . I hardly believe it myself. . . . And yet . . . His eye fell with a mute inquiry upon the withered whiteflowers upon the little table. Then he turned over the handholding his pipe, and I saw he was looking at some half-healedscars on his knuckles. The Medical Man rose, came to the lamp, and examined theflowers. The gynaeceums odd, he said. The Psychologist leantforward to see, holding out his hand for a specimen. Im hanged if it isnt a quarter to one, said theJournalist. How shall we get home? Plenty of cabs at the station, said the Psychologist. Its a curious thing, said the Medical Man; but I certainlydont know the natural order of these flowers. May I have them? The Time Traveller hesitated. Then suddenly: Certainly not. Where did you really get them? said the Medical Man. The Time Traveller put his hand to his head. He spoke likeone who was trying to keep hold of an idea that eluded him.They were put into my pocket by Weena, when I travelled intoTime. He stared round the room. Im damned if it isnt allgoing. This room and you and the atmosphere of every day is toomuch for my memory. Did I ever make a Time Machine, or a modelof a Time Machine? Or is it all only a dream? They say life isa dream, a precious poor dream at times--but I cant 67

standanother that wont fit. Its madness. And where did the dreamcome from? . . . I must look at that machine. If there is one! He caught up the lamp swiftly, and carried

it, flaring red,through the door into the corridor. We followed him. There inthe flickering light of the lamp was the machine sure enough,squat, ugly, and askew; a thing of brass, ebony, ivory, andtranslucent glimmering quartz. Solid to the touch--for I putout my hand and felt the rail of it--and with brown spots andsmears upon the ivory, and bits of grass and moss upon the lowerparts, and one rail bent awry. The Time Traveller put the lamp down on the bench, and ran hishand along the damaged rail. Its all right now, he said.The story I told you was true. Im sorry to have brought youout here in the cold. He took up the lamp, and, in an absolutesilence, we returned to the smokingroom. He came into the hall with us and helped the Editor on withhis coat. The Medical Man looked into his face and, with acertain hesitation, told him he was suffering from overwork, atwhich he laughed hugely. I remember him standing in the opendoorway, bawling good night. I shared a cab with the Editor. He thought the tale a gaudylie. For my own part I was unable to come to a conclusion. Thestory was so fantastic and incredible, the telling so credibleand sober. I lay awake most of the night thinking about it. Idetermined to go next day and see the Time Traveller again. Iwas told he was in the laboratory, and being on easy terms in thehouse, I went up to him. The laboratory, however, was empty. Istared for a minute at the Time Machine and put out my hand andtouched the lever. At that the squat substantial-looking massswayed like a bough shaken by the wind. Its instability startledme extremely, and I had a queer reminiscence of the childish dayswhen I used to be forbidden to meddle. I came back through thecorridor. The Time Traveller met me in the smoking-room. He wascoming from the house. He had a small camera under one arm and aknapsack under the other. He laughed when he saw me, and gave mean elbow to shake. Im frightfully busy, said he, with thatthing in there. But is it not some hoax? I said. Do you really travelthrough time? Really and truly I do. And he looked frankly into my eyes.He hesitated. His eye wandered about the room. I only wanthalf an hour, he said. I know why you came, and its awfullygood of you. Theres some magazines here. If youll stop tolunch Ill prove you this time travelling up to the hilt,specimen and all. If youll forgive my leaving you now? I consented, hardly comprehending then the full 68

import of hiswords, and he nodded and went on down the corridor. I heard thedoor of the laboratory slam, seated myself in a chair, and tookup a daily paper. What was he going to do before lunch-time?Then suddenly I was reminded by an advertisement that I hadpromised to meet Richardson, the publisher, at two. I looked atmy watch, and saw that I could barely save that engagement. Igot up and went down the passage to tell the Time Traveller. As I took hold of the handle of the door I heard anexclamation, oddly truncated at the end, and a click and a thud.A gust of air whirled round me as I opened the door, and fromwithin came the sound of broken glass falling on the floor. TheTime Traveller was not there. I seemed to see a ghostly,indistinct figure sitting in a whirling mass of black and brassfor a moment--a figure so transparent that the bench behind withits sheets of drawings was absolutely distinct; but this phantasmvanished as I rubbed my eyes. The Time Machine had gone. Savefor a subsiding stir of dust, the further end of the laboratorywas empty. A pane of the skylight had, apparently, just beenblown in. I felt an unreasonable amazement. I knew that somethingstrange had happened, and for the moment could not distinguishwhat the strange thing might be. As I stood staring, the doorinto the garden opened, and the man-servant appeared. We looked at each other. Then ideas began to come. Has Mr.---- gone out that way? said I. No, sir. No one has come out this way. I was expecting tofind him here. At that I understood. At the risk of disappointing RichardsonI stayed on, waiting for the Time Traveller; waiting for thesecond, perhaps still stranger story, and the specimens andphotographs he would bring with him. But I am beginning now tofear that I must wait a lifetime. The Time Traveller vanishedthree years ago. And, as everybody knows now, he has neverreturned. EPILOGUE One cannot choose but wonder.

Will he ever return?It may be that he swept back into the past, and fell amongthe blooddrinking, hairy savages of the Age of UnpolishedStone; into the abysses of the Cretaceous Sea; or among thegrotesque saurians, the huge reptilian brutes of the Jurassictimes. He may even now--if I may use the phrase--bewandering on some plesiosaurus-haunted Oolitic coral reef,or beside the lonely saline lakes of the Triassic Age. Or didhe go forward, into one of the nearer ages, in which men arestill men, but with the riddles of our own time answeredand its wearisome problems solved? Into the manhood of therace: for I, for my own part cannot think that these latterdays of weak 69

experiment, fragmentary theory, and mutualdiscord are indeed mans culminating time! I say, for my ownpart. He, I know--for the question had been discussed amongus long before the Time Machine was made--thought butcheerlessly of the Advancement of Mankind, and saw in thegrowing pile of civilization only a foolish heaping that mustinevitably fall back upon and destroy its makers in the end.If that is so, it remains for us to live as though it were notso. But to me the future is still black and blank--is a vastignorance, lit at a few casual places by the memory of his story.And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers--shrivelled now, and brown and flat and brittle--to witnessthat even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude anda mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of man. _________________________________________

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