Arthur Zagat - The Golden Age of Science Fiction Volume IX

After this short interlude we were entranced by the opening bars of a very grand and majestic composition. As the first strains reached us I noticed that all the Martians who were seated at once rose erect; every Martian bared his head, raised his right hand, and, with an expression of rapt intensity and reverence, gazed towards the heavens. I and my companions immediately adopted a similar attitude, for Merna explained that this piece was the Martian Hymn of Praise to the Great Ruler of the Universe; and that its performance was regarded as one of their most solemn acts of public worship.

The grandeur and majesty of this music, its melodious themes and thrilling harmonies, are utterly beyond my powers of description; the air and sky seemed filled and pulsating with prayer and praise, then resounding with grand crescendoes of triumphant shouts; each succeeding movement of the music carrying it higher and ever higher in the scale, until at last it seemed to soar and pierce the infinite, the final cadences dying away in melodious strains of celestial beauty and ineffable sweetness.

Finally the air-ships all circled round the sky, then took their departure—darting off in all directions—the sound of their sweet music becoming fainter and fainter in the distance until at last all was solemn silence; then the great assembly slowly and quietly dispersed.

For some minutes none of us spoke, for each was in deep thought, so impressive and exalting had been the effect of that wonderful and majestic hymn. When at length Merna turned to us and asked if we were pleased with what we had seen and heard, we found it very difficult to give adequate expression to our feelings.

Then M’Allister said, “Mon, it was beautiful, most beautiful! and I never felt so nigh to heaven as I have this night!”

I remarked to John that “I had never expected to hear any music that would equal, much more excel, the incomparable ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ in Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ It had always seemed to me impossible that any music could ever be composed which would even approach it in majesty and power; but what we had heard that night certainly surpassed it.”

On looking at my watch I found that the musical portion of this feast of tone and colour had occupied nearly three hours; yet, as I remarked, it had seemed to me only a few minutes!

“Yes,” John replied, “to me it has been an experience like that of the monk Felix in Longfellow’s ‘Golden Legend.’ The monk went out into the woods one day, where he saw a snow-white bird, and listened to its sweet singing until the sound of the convent bell warned him that it was time to return. When he reached the convent he was amazed to find the faces of the monks were all strange to him; he knew no one, and no one knew him, or had ever even heard of him. At last one very old monk, who had been there over a hundred years, said he remembered seeing a monk Felix when he first entered the convent. The records were searched, and it was found that Brother Felix had left the convent a hundred years before, and as he had never returned he had been entered in the list of the dead. So then

‘They knew, at last, That such had been the power Of that celestial and immortal song, A hundred years had passed, And had not seemed so long As a single hour.’

“That has really been something like my own experience to-night,” continued John; “for I have scarcely been conscious of the passage of time, and hours have seemed only minutes! I trust, Merna, that you will convey to your friends our most grateful thanks for all the pleasure we have derived from this magnificent display of Martian attainments.”

M’Allister and I joined in this request, and Merna promised to comply with our wishes. He seemed very pleased at our appreciation; and he told John that his quotation had recalled to his memory the beautiful poem by Longfellow, which had been a favourite with him during his earthly school-days, but had lain entirely dormant in his mind until now.

We all agreed that, however long we might live, the memory of that evening’s events—the magnificent display of aerial skill, the glorious harmonies of colour, and, above all, the majestic and incomparable music—could never be effaced from our minds. We wondered whether aerial flight would ever be brought so completely under control as to permit of a similar display in the skies of our own world.

Merna replied that he was sure it would be quite possible some day, but it must be remembered that what we had been witnessing was the result of centuries of Martian experience in aerial navigation.

Merna then gave us an account of the progress of Martian discovery in regard to aeronautics, from which we gathered that the earlier experiences of the Martians had been somewhat similar to those of our own people. They began with bags of various shapes inflated with gas lighter than air, similar to our balloons, then experimented with aeroplanes of various designs, also bird-like wings, on a very large scale, actuated by electric and other motors. As time went on, however, their atmosphere became thinner and thinner, until at last all such forms of apparatus became nearly, if not quite, useless as a means of artificial flight.

After this they made use of numerous vertical screws of a spiral form, which were caused to revolve with extreme rapidity by the aid of electrical machinery; and a few of the vessels thus equipped are still in use. But the discovery of natural forces emanating from the sun and from their own planet soon led to the devising of means for utilising this natural power, and this has practically superseded everything else. Now all their air-ships and many of their machines are actuated by this power, and are under the most perfect control. Air-ships are used for all purposes of passenger traffic and freight carrying. So are vessels on the canals and motor vehicles on the roads; and railways are, therefore, unnecessary.

The time was nigh at hand when we must think about our arrangements for returning to the earth, and, as it drew nearer and nearer, I became much troubled. I felt that it would be endangering Merna’s dear life to take him to England, for our terrestrial microbes would probably prove fatal to a Martian, so it was impossible to suggest it to him; at the same time I felt that I could not again part with my newly-found son, who was now all in all to me.

Pondering over the matter, I wondered whether the Martians would allow me to stay with them and end my days on Mars with my beloved son.

Just then Soranho came to see me, and we sat awhile talking together. Presently he said, quietly, “Mr. Poynders, you would I know desire to stay here with your son, but are doubtful about mentioning the matter to me. Doubt no longer, my dear sir! We shall be proud and happy to have you with us; and I am quite sure that I am fulfilling the wishes of our people when I now cordially invite you, in their name, to make your home with us!”

Thus the Martian intuition had solved my difficulty; and, fervently thanking Soranho, I told him I gratefully accepted his kind invitation and would remain upon Mars, although parting with my two old friends would be a hard task for me.

It had been decided that we should leave on the 1st of December, that being the latest possible date, as the earth was moving so rapidly away from Mars that each day’s delay would mean a longer journey. As it was, we should have about 215,000,000 miles to travel before we could reach our destination; and, as that would require at least 108 days, we could not arrive in England before the 18th of March 1910; probably it would be a day or two later, as our course would take us so near the sun.

When John and M’Allister came in I went to the receptacle where my chart was kept and brought it out. Placing it on the table, I carefully explained what would be required, and gave them full instructions for setting and keeping their proper course, so as to head off the earth on its journey. These instructions I had also written out in readiness, so that each might know and be able to act in an emergency.