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The Sleeper Awakes

Chapter 9 The People March

Word Count: 1978    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

moment he was glowing. A tall man in a black robe stood by his shoulder, and pointed to the half open door into the hall. This man was shouting close to his ear and yet what was said w

admitted a vast uneven tumult, a hammering, clapping and shouting that died away and began again, and rose to a thunderous pitch, and so continued inte

ese things and then stood up abruptly; he

cried. "Who am

ar his words. "Who am I?" Hi

him nothing!"

ell me!" cr

of the Earth. You ar

nd, not to hear. He lifted his voice again. "I have been awake three days--a prisoner three

id the yo

s to do with me. _Why_, I don't know. Drugs? It seems to me that while I have slept the world has gon

aid the man in yellow. "To

_wh

d the man in yellow. "The world is on yo

hese last words, came a deafening tumult, a roaring and thundering, cheer crowded on cheer, voices hoarse and s

e had just heard. "The Council," he repeated blankly, and then sn

organiser of the revolt.

And you? Why i

ou to show yourself to these people and then come on to him. That is why he

nger man. "They have ruled, cru

e! My name

ce under his red aquiline nose and bushy moustache. "No one expected you to wake. No one expected you to wake. They were

ll dominated

ices ready--. Even now there is

has it planned. Trust him. We have our organisations ready. We sha

n in yellow, "is only a contingent.

gone from the streets and are massed in the--" (inaudible). "It is now or

eople calli

s presented an antagonism; on the one hand was the White Council, powerful, disciplined, few, the White Council from which he had just escaped; and on the other, monstrous crowds, packed masses of indistinguishable people

ult. These intruders came towards him and Lincoln gesticulating. The voices without explained their soundless lips

in rags of dark brown, a gaunt figure, stood on the seat and waved a black cloth. He met the wonder and expectation of the girl's eyes. What did these people expect from him. He was dimly aware that the tumult outside had changed its character

le mass of people was chanting together. It was not simply a song, the voices were gathered together and upborne by a torrent of instrumental music, music like the music of an orga

f that chant took hold of him, stirred him, emboldened him. The hall

m," said Lincoln. "Wa

llowed Lincoln. He perceived the girl in grey close to him, her face lit, her gesture onward. For the instant she became to him, flushed and eager as she was, an embodiment of the song. He emerged in the alcove

." All his impressions were vague save the massive emotion of that trampling song. The multitude were beating time with their feet--marking time, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The green weapons waved, flashed and slanted. Then he saw those nearest to him on a level space before the stage were marching in front of him, passing towards a great archway, shouting "To the Council!" Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. He raised his arm, and the roaring was redoubled. He remembered he had to shout "March!" His mouth shaped inaudible heroic words. He waved his arm again and pointed to the archway, shouting "Onward!" They were no longer marking time, they were marching; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. In that host we

nd lean. Men and women of the new age! Strange and incredible meeting! As the broad stream passed before him to the right, tributary gangways from the remote uplands of the hall thrust downward in an incessant replacement of people; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The unison of the song w

aces were below the level of his feet. He was aware of a path before him, of a suite about him, of guards and dignities, and Lincoln on his right hand. Attendants intervened, and ever and again blotted out the sight of the multitude to the left. Before him went the backs of the guards in black--three

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The Sleeper Awakes
The Sleeper Awakes
“When the Sleeper Wakes_, whose title I have now altered to _The Sleeper Awakes_, was first published as a book in 1899 after a serial appearance in the _Graphic_ and one or two American and colonial periodicals. It is one of the most ambitious and least satisfactory of my books, and I have taken the opportunity afforded by this reprinting to make a number of excisions and alterations. Like most of my earlier work, it was written under considerable pressure; there are marks of haste not only in the writing of the latter part, but in the very construction of the story. Except for certain streaks of a slovenliness which seems to be an almost unavoidable defect in me, there is little to be ashamed of in the writing of the opening portion; but it will be fairly manifest to the critic that instead of being put aside and thought over through a leisurely interlude, the ill-conceived latter part was pushed to its end. I was at that time overworked, and badly in need of a holiday. In addition to various necessary journalistic tasks, I had in hand another book, _Love and Mr. Lewisham_, which had taken a very much stronger hold upon my affections than this present story. My circumstances demanded that one or other should be finished before I took any rest, and so I wound up the Sleeper sufficiently to make it a marketable work, hoping to be able to revise it before the book printers at any rate got hold of it. But fortune was against me. I came back to England from Italy only to fall dangerously ill, and I still remember the impotent rage and strain of my attempt to put some sort of finish to my story of Mr. Lewisham, with my temperature at a hundred and two. I couldn't endure the thought of leaving that book a fragment. I did afterwards contrive to save it from the consequences of that febrile spurt--_Love and Mr. Lewisham_ is indeed one of my most carefully balanced books--but the Sleeper escaped me. It is twelve years now since the Sleeper was written, and that young man of thirty-one is already too remote for me to attempt any very drastic reconstruction of his work. I have played now merely the part of an editorial elder brother: cut out relentlessly a number of long tiresome passages that showed all too plainly the fagged, toiling brain, the heavy sluggish _driven_ pen, and straightened out certain indecisions at the end. Except for that, I have done no more than hack here and there at clumsy phrases and repetitions. The worst thing in the earlier version, and the thing that rankled most in my mind, was the treatment of the relations of Helen Wotton and Graham. Haste in art is almost always vulgarisation, and I slipped into the obvious vulgarity of making what the newspaper syndicates call a "love interest" out of Helen. There was even a clumsy intimation that instead of going up in the flying-machine to fight, Graham might have given in to Ostrog, and married Helen. I have now removed the suggestion of these uncanny connubialities. Not the slightest intimation of any sexual interest could in truth have arisen between these two. They loved and kissed one another, but as a girl and her heroic grandfather might love, and in a crisis kiss. I have found it possible, without any very serious disarrangement, to clear all that objectionable stuff out of the story, and so a little ease my conscience on the score of this ungainly lapse. I have also, with a few strokes of the pen, eliminated certain dishonest and regrettable suggestions that the People beat Ostrog. My Graham dies, as all his kind must die, with no certainty of either victory or defeat. Who will win--Ostrog or the People? A thousand years hence that will still be just the open question we leave to-day. H.G. WELLS.”
1 Chapter 1 Insomnia2 Chapter 2 The Trance3 Chapter 3 The Awakening4 Chapter 4 The Sound Of A Tumult5 Chapter 5 The Moving Ways6 Chapter 6 The Hall Of The Atlas7 Chapter 7 In The Silent Rooms8 Chapter 8 The Roof Spaces9 Chapter 9 The People March10 Chapter 10 The Battle Of The Darkness11 Chapter 11 The Old Man Who Knew Everything12 Chapter 12 Ostrog13 Chapter 13 The End Of The Old Order14 Chapter 14 From The Crow's Nest15 Chapter 15 Prominent People16 Chapter 16 The Monoplane17 Chapter 17 Three Days18 Chapter 18 Graham Remembers19 Chapter 19 Ostrog's Point Of View20 Chapter 20 In The City Ways21 Chapter 21 The Under-Side22 Chapter 22 The Struggle In The Council House23 Chapter 23 Graham Speaks His Word24 Chapter 24 While The Aeroplanes Were Coming25 Chapter 25 The Coming Of The Aeroplanes