Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

I.

THE EVE OF THE WAR.

No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth (the 19th) century that this world was being watched keenly (sharply) and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal (mortal: human — the old sense here) as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised (to examine closely) and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly (by a hair; closely) as a man with a microscope (the glass that makes tiny things look large) might scrutinise (to examine closely) the transient (passing quickly) creatures (a living being) that swarm (a moving crowd of bees or men) and multiply (to increase manyfold) in a drop of water. With infinite (without end) complacency (smug satisfaction) men went to and fro (to and fro: back and forth) over this globe (a round ball; the earth) about their little affairs, serene (calmly clear) in their assurance (confident sureness) of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria (the tiniest creatures of a water drop) under the microscope (the glass that makes tiny things look large) do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss (to send away) the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable (unlikely). It is curious (eager to know; strange) to recall (to call back to mind) some of the mental habits (a settled way of acting) of those departed (to go away) days. At most terrestrial (of the earth) men fancied (the imagination; a liking) there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior (lower in rank or worth) to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary (one sent to spread the faith) enterprise (a bold undertaking). Yet across the gulf (a deep gap) of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts (an animal) that perish (to die; be destroyed), intellects (the thinking mind) vast (very great) and cool and unsympathetic (without sympathy), regarded (to look upon; respect) this earth with envious (full of envy) eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twentieth (the 20th) century came the great disillusionment (loss of pleasant belief).

The planet Mars, I scarcely (hardly) need remind (to bring back to mind) the reader (one who reads), revolves (to turn in a circle) about the sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000 miles, and the light and heat it receives from the sun is barely (only just) half of that received by this world. It must be, if the nebular (of the cloud theory of the world's birth) hypothesis (a supposed explanation) has any truth, older than our world; and long before this earth ceased (to stop) to be molten (melted), life upon its surface must have begun its course. The fact that it is scarcely (hardly) one seventh (the 7th) of the volume of the earth must have accelerated (to speed up) its cooling (growing cold) to the temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water and all that is necessary for the support of animated (full of life; lively) existence.

Yet so vain (useless; empty-proud) is man, and so blinded by his vanity (empty pride), that no writer, up to the very end of the nineteenth (the 19th) century, expressed any idea that intelligent (quick of mind) life might have developed there far, or indeed at all, beyond its earthly (of this world) level. Nor was it generally understood that since Mars is older than our earth, with scarcely (hardly) a quarter of the superficial (on the surface only) area and remoter (more distant) from the sun, it necessarily (of necessity) follows that it is not only more distant (far off) from time’s beginning but nearer (closer) its end.

The secular (of the world, not the church) cooling (growing cold) that must someday (some future day) overtake (to catch up with) our planet has already gone far indeed with our neighbour (one living near). Its physical condition (condition: social rank — the old sense here) is still largely a mystery (a hidden truth), but we know now that even in its equatorial (of the equator, the planet's middle belt) region the midday (the middle of the day) temperature barely (only just) approaches that of our coldest winter. Its air is much more attenuated (made thin) than ours, its oceans have shrunk (to draw back; grow smaller) until they cover but a third of its surface, and as its slow seasons change huge snowcaps (snowcaps: caps of snow at a planet's poles) gather (to bring together) and melt (to turn soft with heat) about either pole (a long rod; the earth's end point) and periodically (at intervals) inundate (to flood) its temperate (mild) zones. That last stage of exhaustion (worn-out tiredness), which to us is still incredibly (beyond belief) remote (far away), has become a present-day (of the present time) problem for the inhabitants (one who lives in a place) of Mars. The immediate pressure of necessity (unavoidable need) has brightened (to make brighter) their intellects (the thinking mind), enlarged (to make larger) their powers, and hardened (to make hard) their hearts. And looking across space with instruments (a tool; a music maker), and intelligences such as we have scarcely (hardly) dreamed of, they see, at its nearest distance only 35,000,000 of miles sunward (toward the sun) of them, a morning star of hope, our own warmer planet, green with vegetation (growing plants) and grey (the colour between black and white) with water, with a cloudy (covered with clouds) atmosphere (the surrounding air or mood) eloquent (moving and fluent in speech) of fertility (fruitfulness), with glimpses (a brief sight) through its drifting (to be carried along; a snow heap) cloud (a sky mass of vapor; to darken with sadness) wisps (thin twists of straw or hair) of broad stretches (to draw out) of populous (thickly peopled) country and narrow (of little width), navy-crowded (crowded with warships) seas.

And we men, the creatures (a living being) who inhabit (to live in) this earth, must be to them at least as alien (foreign; strange) and lowly (humble and low) as are the monkeys (the climbing man-like animal) and lemurs (lemurs: monkey-like creatures of Madagascar) to us. The intellectual (of the thinking mind) side of man already admits that life is an incessant (never stopping) struggle for existence, and it would seem that this too is the belief (what one holds true) of the minds upon Mars. Their world is far gone in its cooling (growing cold) and this world is still crowded with life, but crowded only with what they regard (to look upon; respect) as inferior (lower in rank or worth) animals. To carry warfare (the waging of war) sunward (toward the sun) is, indeed, their only escape from the destruction (destroying ruin) that, generation after generation, creeps (to move low and slowly) upon them.

And before we judge of them too harshly (with rough severity) we must remember what ruthless (without pity) and utter (complete; to speak) destruction (destroying ruin) our own species has wrought, not only upon animals, such as the vanished (to disappear) bison (the American buffalo) and the dodo (the extinct flightless bird), but upon its inferior (lower in rank or worth) races. The Tasmanians, in spite (ill will) of their human likeness (a resemblance; an image), were entirely swept (to brush clean; to move widely) out of existence in a war of extermination (wiping out entirely) waged (to swing from side to side) by European immigrants (immigrants: settlers from another land), in the space of fifty (fifty) years. Are we such apostles (a messenger of a faith) of mercy (pity shown to the helpless) as to complain (to voice discontent) if the Martians (the invaders from the planet Mars) warred in the same spirit?

The Martians seem to have calculated (to reckon) their descent (a going down; family line) with amazing subtlety (fine, delicate thinking)—their mathematical (of mathematics) learning is evidently (as plainly appears) far in excess (more than enough) of ours—and to have carried out their preparations (making ready) with a well-nigh (nearly) perfect unanimity (agreement of all). Had our instruments (a tool; a music maker) permitted (to allow) it, we might have seen the gathering (a coming together) trouble far back in the nineteenth (the 19th) century. Men like Schiaparelli (the Italian astronomer who mapped Mars) watched the red planet—it is odd (strange; uneven), by-the-bye (by the way), that for countless (too many to count) centuries Mars has been the star of war—but failed to interpret (to explain the meaning) the fluctuating (to keep changing back and forth) appearances of the markings (a made mark) they mapped so well. All that time the Martians must have been getting ready.

During the opposition of 1894 a great light was seen on the illuminated (lit up) part of the disk (a flat circle), first at the Lick Observatory (a building for watching the stars), then by Perrotin (an astronomer at Nice) of Nice, and then by other observers (one who watches). English readers (one who reads) heard of it first in the issue of Nature dated August 2. I am inclined (leaning toward) to think that this blaze (a bright strong fire) may have been the casting (the pouring of molten metal into shape) of the huge gun, in the vast (very great) pit (a dug hole) sunk (to go down) into their planet, from which their shots were fired at us. Peculiar (peculiar: its own; particular — the old sense here) markings (a made mark), as yet unexplained (without explanation), were seen near the site of that outbreak (a sudden burst) during the next two oppositions.

The storm burst (to break open suddenly) upon us six years ago now. As Mars approached opposition, Lavelle (the observer of Java who saw the first outbreak on Mars) of Java set the wires (a metal thread) of the astronomical (of the stars and planets) exchange palpitating (palpitating: quivering rapidly) with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak (a sudden burst) of incandescent (glowing white-hot) gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight (twelve at night) of the twelfth (the 12th); and the spectroscope (the instrument that splits light to read its makeup), to which he had at once resorted (a place turned to; to turn to), indicated (to point out) a mass of flaming (the fire's tongue) gas, chiefly (mainly) hydrogen (the lightest gas), moving with an enormous (vastly big) velocity (speed) towards this earth. This jet (a leaping stream of light or water; the deep black stone) of fire had become invisible (unable to be seen) about a quarter past twelve (twelve). He compared it to a colossal (huge) puff (a short blow of air or smoke) of flame (the fire's tongue) suddenly and violently (with violent force) squirted (to shoot out in a jet) out of the planet, “as flaming (the fire's tongue) gases rushed (to move with violent haste) out of a gun.”

A singularly (strangely; unusually) appropriate phrase (a group of words) it proved. Yet the next day there was nothing of this in the papers except a little note in the Daily Telegraph, and the world went in ignorance (want of knowledge) of one of the gravest (the burial pit; solemnly serious) dangers that ever threatened (to hold out harm) the human race. I might not have heard of the eruption (a bursting out) at all had I not met Ogilvy (the astronomer of Ottershaw, first at the pit), the well-known astronomer (one who studies the stars), at Ottershaw. He was immensely (hugely) excited at the news, and in the excess (more than enough) of his feelings invited me up to take a turn with him that night in a scrutiny (close examination) of the red planet.

In spite (ill will) of all that has happened since, I still remember that vigil (a watch kept through the night) very distinctly (clearly): the black and silent (making no sound) observatory (a building for watching the stars), the shadowed (darkened by shadow) lantern (a cased light) throwing a feeble (weak) glow (a soft warm light) upon the floor in the corner, the steady (firm and even) ticking (the small sound of a clock) of the clockwork (machinery of wheels and springs) of the telescope (the tube for seeing far), the little slit (to cut a long narrow gash) in the roof—an oblong (longer than wide) profundity (deepness of thought) with the stardust (the faint glow of far stars) streaked (a long thin mark) across it. Ogilvy moved about, invisible (unable to be seen) but audible (loud enough to hear). Looking through the telescope (the tube for seeing far), one saw a circle of deep blue and the little round planet swimming (for swimming) in the field. It seemed such a little thing, so bright and small and still, faintly (weakly and dimly) marked with transverse (crosswise) stripes (a long band of color), and slightly flattened (to make flat) from the perfect round. But so little it was, so silvery (like silver) warm—a pin (a fastening point)’s head of light! It was as if it quivered (to tremble finely), but really this was the telescope (the tube for seeing far) vibrating (to tremble with sound) with the activity of the clockwork (machinery of wheels and springs) that kept the planet in view.

As I watched, the planet seemed to grow larger and smaller and to advance and recede (to draw back), but that was simply that my eye was tired. Forty millions of miles it was from us—more than forty millions of miles of void (empty; an emptiness). Few people realise (to come to understand; to make real) the immensity (vast, endless size) of vacancy (an empty place) in which the dust (fine dry earth) of the material universe swims (to move through water).

Near it in the field, I remember, were three faint (weak and dim; to fall senseless) points of light, three telescopic (seen only by telescope) stars infinitely (without end) remote (far away), and all around it was the unfathomable (too deep to fathom) darkness (absence of light) of empty space. You know how that blackness (the state of being black) looks on a frosty (cold with frost) starlight (the light of the stars) night. In a telescope (the tube for seeing far) it seems far profounder (deeper). And invisible (unable to be seen) to me because it was so remote (far away) and small, flying swiftly (fast) and steadily (without wavering) towards me across that incredible distance, drawing nearer (closer) every minute by so many thousands of miles, came the Thing they were sending us, the Thing that was to bring so much struggle and calamity (a great disaster) and death to the earth. I never dreamed of it then as I watched; no one on earth dreamed of that unerring (without missing; surely) missile (a thrown weapon).

That night, too, there was another jetting (a leaping stream of light or water; the deep black stone) out of gas from the distant (far off) planet. I saw it. A reddish (somewhat red) flash (a sudden burst of light) at the edge, the slightest (small; to treat as of no account) projection (a part sticking out) of the outline (the bounding line) just as the chronometer (an exact timekeeper) struck midnight (twelve at night); and at that I told Ogilvy and he took my place. The night was warm and I was thirsty (needing drink), and I went stretching (to draw out) my legs clumsily (awkwardly) and feeling my way in the darkness (absence of light), to the little table where the siphon (a bottle that shoots out soda-water) stood, while Ogilvy exclaimed (to cry out) at the streamer (a long flowing banner) of gas that came out towards us.

That night another invisible (unable to be seen) missile (a thrown weapon) started on its way to the earth from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four (twenty-four) hours after the first one. I remember how I sat on the table there in the blackness (the state of being black), with patches (a mending piece) of green and crimson (deep red) swimming (for swimming) before my eyes. I wished I had a light to smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minute gleam (a soft flash of light) I had seen and all that it would presently (soon; now) bring me. Ogilvy watched till one, and then gave it up; and we lit the lantern (a cased light) and walked over to his house. Down below in the darkness (absence of light) were Ottershaw and Chertsey and all their hundreds of people, sleeping in peace.

He was full of speculation (guessing about what is unknown) that night about the condition (condition: social rank — the old sense here) of Mars, and scoffed (scoffed: mocked) at the vulgar (coarse and common) idea of its having inhabitants (one who lives in a place) who were signalling us. His idea was that meteorites (a fallen stone from the sky) might be falling in a heavy shower upon the planet, or that a huge volcanic (of volcanoes) explosion (a violent bursting) was in progress. He pointed out to me how unlikely (not likely) it was that organic (of living things) evolution (gradual unfolding; troop movements) had taken the same direction in the two adjacent (lying next to) planets.

“The chances against anything manlike (like a man) on Mars are a million to one,” he said.

Hundreds of observers (one who watches) saw the flame (the fire's tongue) that night and the night after about midnight (twelve at night), and again the night after; and so for ten nights, a flame (the fire's tongue) each night. Why the shots ceased (to stop) after the tenth (the 10th) no one on earth has attempted to explain. It may be the gases of the firing (shooting) caused the Martians inconvenience (troublesome bother). Dense (thickly packed) clouds (a sky mass of vapor; to darken with sadness) of smoke or dust (fine dry earth), visible (able to be seen) through a powerful telescope (the tube for seeing far) on earth as little grey (the colour between black and white), fluctuating (to keep changing back and forth) patches (a mending piece), spread through the clearness (clarity) of the planet’s atmosphere (the surrounding air or mood) and obscured (dim and little known) its more familiar features.

Even the daily papers woke up to the disturbances (a breaking of quiet) at last, and popular notes appeared here, there, and everywhere concerning the volcanoes (the fire-breathing mountain) upon Mars. The seriocomic (half serious, half comic) periodical (happening at regular intervals; a magazine) Punch, I remember, made a happy use (use: habit; custom — the old sense here) of it in the political cartoon (a comic drawing). And, all unsuspected (not suspected), those missiles (a thrown weapon) the Martians had fired at us drew earthward (toward the earth), rushing (to move with violent haste) now at a pace (a step's length; speed) of many miles a second through the empty gulf (a deep gap) of space, hour by hour and day by day, nearer (closer) and nearer (closer). It seems to me now almost incredibly (beyond belief) wonderful that, with that swift (fast) fate (the appointed lot) hanging over us, men could go about their petty (small and trifling) concerns as they did. I remember how jubilant (full of triumphant joy) Markham (a friend of the narrator, keen on a news photograph) was at securing a new photograph (to take a picture of) of the planet for the illustrated (to make clear by examples) paper he edited (edited: shaped and trimmed for telling) in those days. People in these latter times scarcely (hardly) realise (to come to understand; to make real) the abundance (rich plenty) and enterprise (a bold undertaking) of our nineteenth-century (of the eighteen hundreds) papers. For my own part, I was much occupied (to hold; to fill) in learning to ride the bicycle (the two-wheeled pedal machine), and busy upon a series of papers discussing the probable (likely) developments of moral (of right and wrong) ideas as civilisation (an advanced settled way of life) progressed.

One night (the first missile (a thrown weapon) then could scarcely (hardly) have been 10,000,000 miles away) I went for a walk with my wife. It was starlight (the light of the stars) and I explained the Signs of the Zodiac to her, and pointed out Mars, a bright dot (a small point) of light creeping (to move low and slowly) zenithward (toward the top of the sky), towards which so many telescopes (the tube for seeing far) were pointed. It was a warm night. Coming home, a party of excursionists (excursionists: holiday trippers) from Chertsey or Isleworth passed us singing and playing music. There were lights in the upper windows of the houses as the people went to bed. From the railway (the rail line and its trains) station in the distance came the sound of shunting (shunting: moving railway cars between tracks) trains, ringing and rumbling (a deep rolling noise), softened (to make soft) almost into melody (a tune) by the distance. My wife pointed out to me the brightness (shining light) of the red, green, and yellow signal lights hanging in a framework (a supporting structure) against the sky. It seemed so safe and tranquil (calm and untroubled).