Arthur Zagat - The Golden Age of Science Fiction Volume IX

As an inevitable result of this decrease of water, and other natural conditions, vast areas of land on both sides of our tropical zones have become deserts; and it is a scientific certainty that this process of desertism will, and must continue, until it covers the whole world.

But, I think, the end will long be delayed, for the loss by desertism will, as it seems to me, for ages be compensated by the new and habitable land arising from areas now covered by water. The old sea-beds upon Mars are now the most fertile areas upon that planet.

As the desertism increases conditions similar to those of Mars will arise; the earth will become more level, polar glaciation will cease, the atmosphere become thinner, and water vapour, instead of falling as rain, will be carried by circulatory currents to the poles, and there be deposited as snow. What the Martians have accomplished has shown us how to stave off the water difficulty, and also how a highly civilised and intelligent people can bravely and calmly face the end which they clearly foresee!

This is the lesson from the present physical condition of Mars.

On the other hand, the continual progress of civilisation upon Mars, and the very high development attained there, coupled with what we know of our own progress during the ages past, give certainty to the hope that our own civilisation will continue to develop, slowly indeed, but surely; and also to the belief that, compared to what it will be in the future, our present stage of civilisation is merely savagery.

Development will lead to progress in everything which tends to increase the intelligence, wisdom, and happiness of the whole human race.

Our world has seen the rise and fall of many civilisations, but fresh ones have risen, phoenix-like, from the ashes of those which have departed and been forgotten. “The individual withers,” but “the world is more and more.” As it was in the past, so will it be in the future—ever-changing, ever-passing, but ever-renewing, until the final stage is reached.

Since the earliest dawn of our creation the watchword of humanity has been “Onward!” and it is still “Onward!” but also “Upward!!” The possibilities of the development of the human race in the ages yet to come are so vast as to be beyond our conception; for, as Sir Oliver Lodge has remarked, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the mind of man to conceive what the future has in store for humanity!” Then:

“Forward, forward, let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change!”

This, then, is the great lesson which Martian civilisation teaches us. Surely it affords no reason for the depression and pessimism in which some upon the earth are so prone to indulge; but rather should it stir them to a more earnest endeavour, by gradually removing the obstacles which now bar their progress, to improve the social conditions of the people; so that they in their turn may improve their intellectual conditions, and lend their aid to the general advancement of the world they live in.

Gloom, depression, and pessimism, of which we have had more than enough of late years, never yet helped any one. They have, however, proved disastrous to many.

Remember our world is young yet! so set before yourselves the great ideal of the brotherhood of humanity! Our religion teaches it; strive to help in attaining it; and in so doing each may, and will, achieve something to help forward the gradual evolution of a brighter and happier world for the generations that are to come. In that brighter and happier world I have faith, for:

“I hold it truth with him who sings, To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.”

And:

“I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widen’d with the process of the suns.”

In accordance with the desire of my old friend, Wilfrid Poynders, I am now about to publish the book which was handed to me by Merna on the morning of our departure from Mars.

I knew that my dear old friend’s thoughts and aspirations ever soared towards the skies; but, as his last testament shows, his sympathies embraced all humanity, and I am somewhat reluctant to add anything which must necessarily bring the subject down to a lower plane.

As a narrative of his own personal experiences in connection with our trip to Mars, the Professor’s work is quite complete; still I thought his readers would wish to know how it fared with his colleagues after they left Mars, and have accordingly appended a few pages furnishing this information.

I am quite convinced that, in deciding to remain behind on the planet, the Professor, as M’Allister remarked, “did the right thing”; but after the many years we have spent together in the closest and truest friendship, I miss him—ah, more than I can say.

It was really a tremendous wrench, that parting with my two old friends, the Professor and Merna, and leaving them behind on Mars, although I fully appreciated the Professor’s desire to end his days with his dear son, to whom he had been so strangely reunited.

We started that morning directly after our farewell, and found a large concourse of people assembled, who had come from all parts of the planet to see us off.

Soranho and many other high officers of state whom we knew were present, and, of course, the Professor, Merna, Eleeta, and Siloni, as well as many others whom we had come to regard as personal friends; and they did not allow us to depart empty-handed.

Merna handed me the packet which the Professor had referred to. We had no formal farewell with the Professor—that was all over; but he came forward at the last moment, and we parted from him with a loving hand-clasp.

After a most affectionate leave-taking with our other friends, with whom I took good care to include Siloni, we boarded the Areonal. M’Allister at once took charge of the machinery, switched on the power, and we immediately rose into the air, amidst shouts of farewell and repeated good wishes from the assembled multitude.

We rose rapidly; but, so long as we kept in view of the place, we could see the people still waving their adieus to us, and I frequently responded to their signals.

At last, when these lovable and hospitable Martians were lost to sight, I went into the Areonal, closing and bolting the outer door, which was never again to be opened until we reached our destination—our home in old England.

I have no doubt that, long after we lost sight of them, many of the Martians kept the Areonal in view with their telescopes, and followed its course far into space.

I then directed M’Allister to set our course for our own world; and when he had done so, he looked up at me and said, “Heh, mon, yon Martians are rare good folk, and I’m right sorry to leave them!”

“Yes, so am I, M’Allister,” I answered. He again looked at me keenly, with a queer smile on his face; and remarked, “Mon, I’m thinking you are that, and that you have left something behind you!”

I knew he meant that I had left my heart behind me, for I was thinking the very same thing; but I turned away from him with a sigh, without answering. The matter was not one about which I cared to speak just then, for I felt very sad and heartsore.

Our journey passed off without any exciting incidents, everything on the Areonal working most satisfactorily. On the 4th February, 1910, we passed within forty-one million miles of the sun, and the heat at this stage of our journey was terrific, but we had a magnificent view of the sunspots, the corona, and other solar surroundings. In spite of all precautions for counteracting the tremendous pull of the sun, we were drawn considerably out of our direct course, so the journey occupied three days longer than we had anticipated. A large proportion of our time was spent in the air-chamber, in order to prepare us for breathing the atmosphere of our native world.