I. THE PH.D. OCTOPUS1
Some years ago we had at our Harvard Graduate School a very brilliant student of Philosophy, who, after leaving us and supporting himself by literary labor2 for three years, received an appointment to teach English Literature at a sister-institution of learning. The governors of this institution, however, had no sooner communicated the appointment than they made the awful discovery that they had enrolled3 upon their staff a person who was unprovided with the Ph.D. degree. The man in question had been satisfied to work at Philosophy for her own sweet (or bitter) sake, and had disdained5 to consider that an academic bauble6 should be his reward.
His appointment had thus been made under a misunderstanding. He was not the proper man; and there was nothing to do but to inform him of the fact. It was notified to him by his new President that his appointment must be revoked7, or that a Harvard doctor’s degree must forthwith be procured8.
Although it was already the spring of the year, our Subject, being a man of spirit, took up the challenge, turned his back upon literature (which in view of his approaching duties might have seemed his more urgent concern) and spent the weeks that were left him, in writing a metaphysical thesis and grinding his psychology9, logic10 and history of philosophy up again, so as to pass our formidable ordeals12.
When the thesis came to be read by our committee, we could not pass it. Brilliancy and originality13 by themselves won’t save a thesis for the doctorate14; it must also exhibit a heavy technical apparatus15 of learning; and this our candidate had neglected to bring to bear. So, telling him that he was temporarily rejected, we advised him to pad out the thesis properly, and return with it next year, at the same time informing his new President that this signified nothing as to his merits, that he was of ultra Ph.D. quality, and one of the strongest men with whom we had ever had to deal.
To our surprise we were given to understand in reply that the quality per se of the man signified nothing in this connection, and that three magical letters were the thing seriously required. The College had always gloried in a list of faculty16 members who bore the doctor’s title, and to make a gap in the galaxy17, and admit a common fox without a tail, would be a degradation18 impossible to be thought of. We wrote again, pointing out that a Ph.D. in philosophy would prove little anyhow as to one’s ability to teach literature; we sent separate letters in which we outdid each other in eulogy19 of our candidate’s powers, for indeed they were great; and at last, mirabile dictu, our eloquence20 prevailed. He was allowed to retain his appointment provisionally, on condition that one year later at the farthest his miserably21 naked name should be prolonged by the sacred appendage22 the lack of which had given so much trouble to all concerned.
Accordingly he came up here the following spring with an adequate thesis (known since in print as a most brilliant contribution to metaphysics), passed a first-rate examination, wiped out the stain, and brought his college into proper relations with the world again. Whether his teaching, during that first year, of English Literature was made any the better by the impending23 examination in a different subject, is a question which I will not try to solve.
I have related this incident at such length because it is so characteristic of American academic conditions at the present day. Graduate schools still are something of a novelty, and higher diplomas something of a rarity. The latter, therefore, carry a vague sense of preciousness and honor, and have a particularly “up-to-date” appearance, and it is no wonder if smaller institutions, unable to attract professors already eminent25, and forced usually to recruit their faculties26 from the relatively27 young, should hope to compensate28 for the obscurity of the names of their officers of instruction by the abundance of decorative29 titles by which those names are followed on the pages of the catalogues where they appear. The dazzled reader of the list, the parent or student, says to himself, “This must be a terribly distinguished30 crowd — their titles shine like the stars in the firmament31; Ph.D.‘s, S.D.‘s, and Litt.D.‘s, bespangle the page as if they were sprinkled over it from a pepper caster.”
Human nature is once for all so childish that every reality becomes a sham32 somewhere, and in the minds of Presidents and Trustees the Ph.D. degree is in point of fact already looked upon as a mere33 advertising34 resource, a manner of throwing dust in the Public’s eyes. “No instructor35 who is not a Doctor” has become a maxim36 in the smaller institutions which represent demand; and in each of the larger ones which represent supply, the same belief in decorated scholarship expresses itself in two antagonistic37 passions, one for multiplying as much as possible the annual output of doctors, the other for raising the standard of difficulty in passing, so that the Ph.D. of the special institution shall carry a higher blaze of distinction than it does elsewhere. Thus we at Harvard are proud of the number of candidates whom we reject, and of the inability of men who are not distingués in intellect to pass our tests.
America is thus as a nation rapidly drifting towards a state of things in which no man of science or letters will be accounted respectable unless some kind of badge or diploma is stamped upon him, and in which bare personality will be a mark of outcast estate. It seems to me high time to rouse ourselves to consciousness, and to cast a critical eye upon this decidedly grotesque38 tendency. Other nations suffer terribly from the Mandarin39 disease. Are we doomed41 to suffer like the rest?
Our higher degrees were instituted for the laudable purpose of stimulating42 scholarship, especially in the form of “original research.” Experience has proved that great as the love of truth may be among men, it can be made still greater by adventitious43 rewards. The winning of a diploma certifying44 mastery and marking a barrier successfully passed, acts as a challenge to the ambitious; and if the diploma will help to gain bread-winning positions also, its power as a stimulus46 to work is tremendously increased. So far, we are on innocent ground; it is well for a country to have research in abundance, and our graduate schools do but apply a normal psychological spur. But the institutionizing on a large scale of any natural combination of need and motive47 always tends to run into technicality and to develop a tyrannical Machine with unforeseen powers of exclusion48 and corruption49. Observation of the workings of our Harvard system for twenty years past has brought some of these drawbacks home to my consciousness, and I should like to call the attention of my readers to this disadvantageous aspect of the picture, and to make a couple of remedial suggestions, if I may.
In the first place, it would seem that to stimulate51 study, and to increase the gelehrtes Publikum, the class of highly educated men in our country, is the only positive good, and consequently the sole direct end at which our graduate schools, with their diploma-giving powers, should aim. If other results have developed they should be deemed secondary incidents, and if not desirable in themselves, they should be carefully guarded against.
To interfere52 with the free development of talent, to obstruct53 the natural play of supply and demand in the teaching profession, to foster academic snobbery54 by the prestige of certain privileged institutions, to transfer accredited55 value from essential manhood to an outward badge, to blight56 hopes and promote invidious sentiments, to divert the attention of aspiring57 youth from direct dealings with truth to the passing of examinations — such consequences, if they exist, ought surely to be regarded as drawbacks to the system, and an enlightened public consciousness ought to be keenly alive to the importance of reducing their amount. Candidates themselves do seem to be keenly conscious of some of these evils, but outside of their ranks or in the general public no such consciousness, so far as I can see, exists; or if it does exist, it fails to express itself aloud. Schools, Colleges, and Universities, appear enthusiastic over the entire system, just as it stands, and unanimously applaud all its developments.
I beg the reader to consider some of the secondary evils which I have enumerated58. First of all, is not our growing tendency to appoint no instructors59 who are not also doctors an instance of pure sham? Will any one pretend for a moment that the doctor’s degree is a guarantee that its possessor will be successful as a teacher? Notoriously his moral, social and personal characteristics may utterly60 disqualify him for success in the class-room; and of these characteristics his doctor’s examination is unable to take any account whatever. Certain bare human beings will always be better candidates for a given place than all the doctor-applicants on hand; and to exclude the former by a rigid62 rule, and in the end to have to sift63 the latter by private inquiry64 into their personal peculiarities66 among those who know them, just as if they were not doctors at all, is to stultify67 one’s own procedure. You may say that at least you guard against ignorance of the subject by considering only the candidates who are doctors; but how then about making doctors in one subject teach a different subject? This happened in the instance by which I introduced this article, and it happens daily and hourly in all our colleges? The truth is that the Doctor–Monopoly in teaching, which is becoming so rooted an American custom, can show no serious grounds whatsoever68 for itself in reason. As it actually prevails and grows in vogue69 among us, it is due to childish motives70 exclusively. In reality it is but a sham, a bauble, a dodge71, whereby to decorate the catalogues of schools and colleges.
Next, let us turn from the general promotion72 of a spirit of academic snobbery to the particular damage done to individuals by the system.
There are plenty of individuals so well endowed by nature that they pass with ease all the ordeals with which life confronts them. Such persons are born for professional success. Examinations have no terrors for them, and interfere in no way with their spiritual or worldly interests. There are others, not so gifted who nevertheless rise to the challenge, get a stimulus from the difficulty, and become doctors, not without some baleful nervous wear and tear and retardation73 of their purely74 inner life, but on the whole successfully, and with advantage. These two classes form the natural Ph.D.‘s for whom the degree is legitimately75 instituted. To be sure, the degree is of no consequence one way or the other for the first sort of man, for in him the personal worth obviously outshines the title. To the second set of persons, however, the doctor ordeal11 may contribute a touch of energy and solidity of scholarship which otherwise they might have lacked, and were our candidates all drawn76 from these classes, no oppression would result from the institution.
But there is a third class of persons who are genuinely, and in the most pathetic sense, the institution’s victims. For this type of character the academic life may become, after a certain point, a virulent77 poison. Men without marked originality or native force, but fond of truth and especially of books and study, ambitious of reward and recognition, poor often, and needing a degree to get a teaching position, weak in the eyes of their examiners — among these we find the veritable chair à canon of the wars of learning, the unfit in the academic struggle for existence. There are individuals of this sort for whom to pass one degree after another seems the limit of earthly aspiration78. Your private advice does not discourage them. They will fail, and go away to recuperate80, and then present themselves for another ordeal, and sometimes prolong the process into middle life. Or else, if they are less heroic morally they will accept the failure as a sentence of doom40 that they are not fit, and are broken-spirited men thereafter.
We of the university faculties are responsible for deliberately81 creating this new class of American social failures, and heavy is the responsibility. We advertise our “schools” and send out our degree-requirements, knowing well that aspirants82 of all sorts will be attracted, and at the same time we set a standard which intends to pass no man who has not native intellectual distinction. We know that there is no test, however absurd, by which, if a title or decoration, a public badge or mark, were to be won by it, some weakly suggestible or hauntable persons would not feel challenged, and remain unhappy if they went without it. We dangle83 our three magic letters before the eyes of these predestined victims, and they swarm85 to us like moths86 to an electric light. They come at a time when failure can no longer be repaired easily and when the wounds it leaves are permanent; and we say deliberately that mere work faithfully performed, as they perform it, will not by itself save them, they must in addition put in evidence the one thing they have not got, namely this quality of intellectual distinction. Occasionally, out of sheer human pity, we ignore our high and mighty87 standard and pass them. Usually, however, the standard, and not the candidate, commands our fidelity88. The result is caprice, majorities of one on the jury, and on the whole a confession89 that our pretensions90 about the degree cannot be lived up to consistently. Thus, partiality in the favored cases; in the unfavored, blood on our hands; and in both a bad conscience — are the results of our administration.
The more widespread becomes the popular belief that our diplomas are indispensable hall-marks to show the sterling91 metal of their holders92, the more widespread these corruptions93 will become. We ought to look to the future carefully, for it takes generations for a national custom, once rooted, to be grown away from. All the European countries are seeking to diminish the check upon individual spontaneity which state examinations with their tyrannous growth have brought in their train. We have had to institute state examinations too; and it will perhaps be fortunate if some day hereafter our descendants, comparing machine with machine, do not sigh with regret for old times and American freedom, and wish that the régime of the dear old bosses might be reinstalled, with plain human nature, the glad hand and the marble heart, liking94 and disliking, and man-to-man relations grown possible again. Meanwhile, whatever evolution our state-examinations are destined84 to undergo, our universities at least should never cease to regard themselves as the jealous custodians95 of personal and spiritual spontaneity. They are indeed its only organized and recognized custodians in America today. They ought to guard against contributing to the increase of officialism and snobbery and insincerity as against a pestilence96; they ought to keep truth and disinterested97 labor always in the foreground, treat degrees as secondary incidents, and in season and out of season make it plain that what they live for is to help men’s souls, and not to decorate their persons with diplomas.
There seem to be three obvious ways in which the increasing hold of the Ph.D. Octopus upon American life can be kept in check.
The first way lies with the universities. They can lower their fantastic standards (which here at Harvard we are so proud of) and give the doctorate as a matter of course, just as they give the bachelor’s degree, for a due amount of time spent in patient labor in a special department of learning, whether the man be a brilliantly gifted individual or not. Surely native distinction needs no official stamp, and should disdain4 to ask for one. On the other hand, faithful labor, however commonplace, and years devoted98 to a subject, always deserve to be acknowledged and requited99.
The second way lies with both the universities and colleges. Let them give up their unspeakably silly ambition to bespangle their lists of officers with these doctorial titles. Let them look more to substance and less to vanity and sham.
The third way lies with the individual student, and with his personal advisers100 in the faculties. Every man of native power, who might take a higher degree, and refuses to do so, because examinations interfere with the free following out of his more immediate101 intellectual aims, deserves well of his country, and in a rightly organized community, would not be made to suffer for his independence. With many men the passing of these extraneous102 tests is a very grievous interference indeed. Private letters of recommendation from their instructors, which in any event are ultimately needful, ought, in these cases, completely to offset103 the lack of the breadwinning degree; and instructors ought to be ready to advise students against it upon occasion, and to pledge themselves to back them later personally, in the market-struggle which they have to face.
It is indeed odd to see this love of titles — and such titles — growing up in a country or which the recognition of individuality and bare manhood have so long been supposed to be the very soul. The independence of the State, in which most of our colleges stand, relieves us of those more odious104 forms of academic politics which continental105 European countries present. Anything like the elaborate university machine of France, with its throttling106 influences upon individuals is unknown here. The spectacle of the “Rath” distinction in its innumerable spheres and grades, with which all Germany is crawling today, is displeasing107 to American eyes; and displeasing also in some respects is the institution of knighthood in England, which, aping as it does an aristocratic title, enables one’s wife as well as one’s self so easily to dazzle the servants at the house of one’s friends. But are we Americans ourselves destined after all to hunger after similar vanities on an infinitely108 more contemptible109 scale? And is individuality with us also going to count for nothing unless stamped and licensed110 and authenticated111 by some title-giving machine? Let us pray that our ancient national genius may long preserve vitality112 enough to guard us from a future so unmanly and so unbeautiful!
23 Published in the Harvard Monthly, March, 1903.
II. THE TRUE HARVARD24
When a man gets a decoration from a foreign institution, he may take it as an honor. Coming as mine has come today, I prefer to take it for that far more valuable thing, a token of personal good will from friends. Recognizing the good will and the friendliness113, I am going to respond to the chairman’s call by speaking exactly as I feel.
I am not an alumnus of the College. I have not even a degree from the Scientific School, in which I did some study forty years ago. I have no right to vote for Overseers, and I have never felt until today as if I were a child of the house of Harvard in the fullest sense. Harvard is many things in one — a school, a forcing house for thought, and also a social club; and the club aspect is so strong, the family tie so close and subtle among our Bachelors of Arts that all of us here who are in my plight114, no matter how long we may have lived here, always feel a little like outsiders on Commencement day. We have no class to walk with, and we often stay away from the procession. It may be foolish, but it is a fact. I don’t believe that my dear friends Shaler, Hollis, Lanman, or Royce ever have felt quite as happy or as much at home as my friend Barrett Wendell feels upon a day like this.
I wish to use my present privilege to say a word for these outsiders with whom I belong. Many years ago there was one of them from Canada here — a man with a high-pitched voice, who could n’t fully45 agree with all the points of my philosophy. At a lecture one day, when I was in the full flood of my eloquence, his voice rose above mine, exclaiming: “But, doctor, doctor! to be serious for a moment . . .,” in so sincere a tone that the whole room burst out laughing. I want you now to be serious for a moment while I say my little say. We are glorifying115 ourselves today, and whenever the name of Harvard is emphatically uttered on such days, frantic116 cheers go up. There are days for affection, when pure sentiment and loyalty117 come rightly to the fore24. But behind our mere animal feeling for old schoolmates and the Yard and the bell, and Memorial and the clubs and the river and the Soldiers’ Field, there must be something deeper and more rational. There ought at any rate to be some possible ground in reason for one’s boiling over with joy that one is a son of Harvard, and was not, by some unspeakably horrible accident of birth, predestined to graduate at Yale or at Cornell.
Any college can foster club loyalty of that sort. The only rational ground for preeminent118 admiration119 of any single college would be its preeminent spiritual tone. But to be a college man in the mere clubhouse sense — I care not of what college — affords no guarantee of real superiority in spiritual tone.
The old notion that book learning can be a panacea120 for the vices121 of society lies pretty well shattered today. I say this in spite of certain utterances122 of the President of this University to the teachers last year. That sanguine-hearted man seemed then to think that if the schools would only do their duty better, social vice79 might cease. But vice will never cease. Every level of culture breeds its own peculiar65 brand of it as surely as one soil breeds sugar-cane, and another soil breeds cranberries123. If we were asked that disagreeable question, “What are the bosom-vices of the level of culture which our land and day have reached?” we should be forced, I think, to give the still more disagreeable answer that they are swindling and adroitness124, and the indulgence of swindling and adroitness, and cant61, and sympathy with cant — natural fruits of that extraordinary idealization of “success” in the mere outward sense of “getting there,” and getting there on as big a scale as we can, which characterizes our present generation. What was Reason given to man for, some satirist125 has said, except to enable him to invent reasons for what he wants to do. We might say the same of education. We see college graduates on every side of every public question. Some of Tammany’s stanchest supporters are Harvard men. Harvard men defend our treatment of our Filipino allies as a masterpiece of policy and morals. Harvard men, as journalists, pride themselves on producing copy for any side that may enlist126 them. There is not a public abuse for which some Harvard advocate may not be found.
In the successful sense, then, in the worldly sense, in the club sense, to be a college man, even a Harvard man, affords no sure guarantee for anything but a more educated cleverness in the service of popular idols127 and vulgar ends. Is there no inner Harvard within the outer Harvard which means definitively128 more than this — for which the outside men who come here in such numbers, come? They come from the remotest outskirts129 of our country, without introductions, without school affiliations130; special students, scientific students, graduate students, poor students of the College, who make their living as they go. They seldom or never darken the doors of the Pudding or the Porcellian; they hover131 in the background on days when the crimson132 color is most in evidence, but they nevertheless are intoxicated133 and exultant134 with the nourishment135 they find here; and their loyalty is deeper and subtler and more a matter of the inmost soul than the gregarious136 loyalty of the clubhouse pattern often is.
Indeed, there is such an inner spiritual Harvard; and the men I speak of, and for whom I speak today, are its true missionaries137 and carry its gospel into infidel parts. When they come to Harvard, it is not primarily because she is a club. It is because they have heard of her persistently138 atomistic constitution, of her tolerance139 of exceptionality and eccentricity140, of her devotion to the principles of individual vocation141 and choice. It is because you cannot make single one-ideaed regiments142 of her classes. It is because she cherishes so many vital ideals, yet makes a scale of value among them; so that even her apparently143 incurable144 second-rateness (or only occasional first-rateness) in intercollegiate athletics145 comes from her seeing so well that sport is but sport, that victory over Yale is not the whole of the law and the prophets, and that a popgun is not the crack of doom.
The true Church was always the invisible Church. The true Harvard is the invisible Harvard in the souls of her more truth-seeking and independent and often very solitary146 sons. Thoughts are the precious seeds of which our universities should be the botanical gardens. Beware when God lets loose a thinker on the world — either Carlyle or Emerson said that — for all things then have to rearrange themselves. But the thinkers in their youth are almost always very lonely creatures. “Alone the great sun rises and alone spring the great streams.” The university most worthy147 of rational admiration is that one in which your lonely thinker can feel himself least lonely, most positively148 furthered, and most richly fed. On an occasion like this it would be poor taste to draw comparisons between the colleges, and in their mere clubhouse quality they cannot differ widely:— all must be worthy of the loyalties149 and affections they arouse. But as a nursery for independent and lonely thinkers I do believe that Harvard still is in the van. Here they find the climate so propitious150 that they can be happy in their very solitude151. The day when Harvard shall stamp a single hard and fast type of character upon her children, will be that of her downfall. Our undisciplinables are our proudest product. Let us agree together in hoping that the output of them will never cease.
24 Speech at the Harvard Commencement Dinner, June 24, 1903, after receiving an LL.D. degree. Printed in the Graduates’ Magazine for September, 1903.
III. STANFORD’S IDEAL DESTINY25
Foreigners, commenting on our civilization, have with great unanimity152 remarked the privileged position that institutions of learning occupy in America as receivers of benefactions. Our typical men of wealth, if they do not found a college, will at least single out some college or university on which to lavish153 legacies154 or gifts. All the more so, perhaps, if they are not college-bred men themselves. Johns Hopkins University, the University of Chicago, Clark University, are splendid examples of this rule. Steadily155, year by year, my own university, Harvard, receives from one to two and a half millions.
There is something almost pathetic in the way in which our successful business men seem to idealize the higher learning and to believe in its efficacy for salvation156. Never having shared in its blessings157, they do their utmost to make the youth of coming generations more fortunate. Usually there is little originality of thought in their generous foundations. The donors158 follow the beaten track. Their good will has to be vague, for they lack the inside knowledge. What they usually think of is a new college like all the older colleges; or they give new buildings to a university or help to make it larger, without any definite idea as to the improvement of its inner form. Improvements in the character of our institutions always come from the genius of the various presidents and faculties. The donors furnish means of propulsion, the experts within the pale lay out the course and steer159 the vessel160. You all think of the names of Eliot, Gilman, Hall and Harper as I utter these words — I mention no name nearer home.
This is founders161’ day here at Stanford — the day set apart each year to quicken and reanimate in all of us the consciousness of the deeper significance of this little university to which we permanently162 or temporarily belong. I am asked to use my voice to contribute to this effect. How can I do so better than by uttering quite simply and directly the impressions that I personally receive? I am one among our innumerable American teachers, reared on the Atlantic coast but admitted for this year to be one of the family at Stanford. I see things not wholly from without, as the casual visitor does, but partly from within. I am probably a typical observer. As my impressions are, so will be the impressions of others. And those impressions, taken together, will probably be the verdict of history on the institution which Leland and Jane Stanford founded.
“Where there is no vision, the people perish.” Mr. and Mrs. Stanford evidently had a vision of the most prophetic sort. They saw the opportunity for an absolutely unique creation, they seized upon it with the boldness of great minds; and the passionate163 energy with which Mrs. Stanford after her husband’s death, drove the original plans through in the face of every dismaying obstacle, forms a chapter in the biography of heroism164. Heroic also the loyalty with which in those dark years the president and faculty made the university’s cause, their cause, and shared the uncertainties165 and privations.
And what is the result today? To-day the key-note is triumphantly166 struck. The first step is made beyond recall. The character of the material foundation is assured for all time as something unique and unparalleled. It logically calls for an equally unique and unparalleled spiritual superstructure.
Certainly the chief impression which the existing university must make on every visitor is of something unique and unparalleled. Its attributes are almost too familiar to you to bear recapitulation. The classic scenery of its site, reminding one of Greece, Greek too in its atmosphere of opalescent167 fire, as if the hills that close us in were bathed in ether, milk and sunshine; the great city, near enough for convenience, too far ever to become invasive; the climate, so friendly to work that every morning wakes one fresh for new amounts of work; the noble architecture, so generously planned that there room and to spare for every requirement; the democracy of the life, no one superfluously168 rich, yet all sharing, so far as their higher needs go, in the common endowment — where could a genius devoted to the search for truth, and unworldly as most geniuses are, find on the earth’s whole round a place more advantageous50 to come and work in? Die Luft der Freiheit weht! All the traditions are individualistic. Red tape and organization are at their minimum. Interruptions and perturbing169 distractions170 hardly exist. Eastern institutions look all dark and huddled171 and confused in comparison with this purity and serenity172. Shall it not be auspicious173? Surely the one destiny to which this happy beginning seems to call Stanford is that it should become something intense and original, not necessarily in point of wealth or extent, but in point of spiritual quality. The founders have, as I said, triumphantly struck the keynote, and laid the basis: the quality of what they have already given is unique in character.
It rests with the officials of the present and future Stanford, it rests with the devotion and sympathetic insight of the growing body of graduates, to prolong the vision where the founders’ vision terminated, and to insure that all the succeeding steps, like the first steps, shall single out this university more and more as the university of quality peculiarly.
And what makes essential quality in a university? Years ago in New England it was said that a log by the roadside with a student sitting on one end of it, and Mark Hopkins sitting on the other end, was a university. It is the quality of its men that makes the quality of a university. You may have your buildings, you may create your committees and boards and regulations, you may pile up your machinery174 of discipline and perfect your methods of instruction, you may spend money till no one can approach you; yet you will add nothing but one more trivial specimen175 to the common herd176 of American colleges, unless you send into all this organization some breath of life, by inoculating177 it with a few men, at least, who are real geniuses. And if you once have the geniuses, you can easily dispense178 with most of the organization. Like a contagious179 disease, almost, spiritual life passes from man to man by contact. Education in the long run is an affair that works itself out between the individual student and his opportunities. Methods of which we talk so much, play but a minor180 part. Offer the opportunities, leave the student to his natural reaction on them, and he will work out his personal destiny, be it a high one or a low one. Above all things, offer the opportunity of higher personal contacts. A university provides these anyhow within the student body, for it attracts the more aspiring of the youth of the country, and they befriend and elevate one another. But we are only beginning in this country, with our extraordinary American reliance on organization, to see that the alpha and omega in a university is the tone of it, and that this tone is set by human personalities181 exclusively. The world, in fact, is only beginning to see that the wealth of a nation consists more than in anything else in the number of superior men that it harbors. In the practical realm it has always recognized this, and known that no price is too high to pay for a great statesman or great captain of industry. But it is equally so in the religious and moral sphere, in the poetic182 and artistic183 sphere and in the philosophic184 and scientific sphere. Geniuses are ferments185; and when they come together as they have done in certain lands at certain times, the whole population seems to share in the higher energy which they awaken186. The effects are incalculable and often not easy to trace in detail, but they are pervasive187 and momentous188. Who can measure the effects on the national German soul of the splendid series of German poets and German men of learning, most of them academic personages?
From the bare economic point of view the importance of geniuses is only beginning to be appreciated. How can we measure the cash-value to France of a Pasteur, to England of a Kelvin, to Germany of an Ostwald, to us here of a Burbank? One main care of every country in the future ought to be to find out who its first-rate thinkers are and to help them. Cost here becomes something entirely189 irrelevant190, the returns are sure to be so incommensurable. This is what wise men the world over are perceiving. And as the universities are already a sort of agency providentially provided for the detection and encouragement of mental superiority, it would seem as if that one among them that followed this line most successfully would quickest rise to a position of paramountcy191 and distinction.
Why should not Stanford immediately adopt this as her vital policy? Her position is one of unprecedented192 freedom. Not trammelled by the service of the state as other universities on this coast are trammelled, independent of students’ fees and consequently of numbers, Utopian in the material respects I have enumerated, she only needs a boldness like that shown by her founders to become the seat of a glowing intellectual life, sure to be admired and envied the world over. Let her claim her place; let her espouse193 her destiny. Let her call great investigators194 from whatever lands they live in, from England, France, Germany, Japan, as well as from America. She can do this without presumption195, for the advantages of this place for steady mental work are so unparalleled. Let these men, following the happy traditions of the place, make the university. The original foundation had something eccentric in it; let Stanford not fear to be eccentric to the end, if need be. Let her not imitate; let her lead, not follow. Especially let her not be bound by vulgar traditions as to the cheapness or dearness of professorial service. The day is certainly about to dawn when some American university will break all precedents196 in the matter of instructors’ salaries, and will thereby197 immediately take the lead, and reach the winning post for quality. I like to think of Stanford being that university. Geniuses are sensitive plants, in some respects like prima donnas. They have to be treated tenderly. They don’t need to live in superfluity; but they need freedom from harassing198 care; they need books and instruments; they are always overworking, so they need generous vacations; and above all things they need occasionally to travel far and wide in the interests of their souls’ development. Where quality is the thing sought after, the thing of supreme199 quality is cheap, whatever be the price one has to pay for it.
Considering all the conditions, the quality of Stanford has from the first been astonishingly good both in the faculty and in the student body. Can we not, as we sit here today, frame a vision of what it may be a century hence, with the honors of the intervening years all rolled up in its traditions? Not vast, but intense; less a place for teaching youths and maidens200 than for training scholars; devoted to truth; radiating influence; setting standards; shedding abroad the fruits of learning; mediating201 between America and Asia, and helping202 the more intellectual men of both continents to understand each other better.
What a history! and how can Stanford ever fail to enter upon it?
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n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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3 enrolled | |
adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 );登记,招收,使入伍(或入会、入学等),参加,成为成员;记入名册;卷起,包起 | |
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4 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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5 disdained | |
鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 ); 不屑于做,不愿意做 | |
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6 bauble | |
n.美观而无价值的饰物 | |
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7 revoked | |
adj.[法]取消的v.撤销,取消,废除( revoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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9 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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10 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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11 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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12 ordeals | |
n.严峻的考验,苦难的经历( ordeal的名词复数 ) | |
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13 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
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14 doctorate | |
n.(大学授予的)博士学位 | |
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15 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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16 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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17 galaxy | |
n.星系;银河系;一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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18 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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19 eulogy | |
n.颂词;颂扬 | |
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20 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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21 miserably | |
adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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22 appendage | |
n.附加物 | |
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23 impending | |
a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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24 fore | |
adv.在前面;adj.先前的;在前部的;n.前部 | |
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25 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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26 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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27 relatively | |
adv.比较...地,相对地 | |
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28 compensate | |
vt.补偿,赔偿;酬报 vi.弥补;补偿;抵消 | |
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29 decorative | |
adj.装饰的,可作装饰的 | |
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30 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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31 firmament | |
n.苍穹;最高层 | |
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32 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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33 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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34 advertising | |
n.广告业;广告活动 a.广告的;广告业务的 | |
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35 instructor | |
n.指导者,教员,教练 | |
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36 maxim | |
n.格言,箴言 | |
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37 antagonistic | |
adj.敌对的 | |
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38 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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39 Mandarin | |
n.中国官话,国语,满清官吏;adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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40 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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41 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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42 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
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43 adventitious | |
adj.偶然的 | |
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44 certifying | |
(尤指书面)证明( certify的现在分词 ); 发证书给…; 证明(某人)患有精神病; 颁发(或授予)专业合格证书 | |
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45 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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46 stimulus | |
n.刺激,刺激物,促进因素,引起兴奋的事物 | |
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47 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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48 exclusion | |
n.拒绝,排除,排斥,远足,远途旅行 | |
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49 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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50 advantageous | |
adj.有利的;有帮助的 | |
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51 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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52 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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53 obstruct | |
v.阻隔,阻塞(道路、通道等);n.阻碍物,障碍物 | |
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54 snobbery | |
n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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55 accredited | |
adj.可接受的;可信任的;公认的;质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 );委托;委任;把…归结于 | |
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56 blight | |
n.枯萎病;造成破坏的因素;vt.破坏,摧残 | |
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57 aspiring | |
adj.有志气的;有抱负的;高耸的v.渴望;追求 | |
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58 enumerated | |
v.列举,枚举,数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59 instructors | |
指导者,教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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60 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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61 cant | |
n.斜穿,黑话,猛扔 | |
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62 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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63 sift | |
v.筛撒,纷落,详察 | |
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64 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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65 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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66 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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67 stultify | |
v.愚弄;使呆滞 | |
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68 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
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69 Vogue | |
n.时髦,时尚;adj.流行的 | |
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70 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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71 dodge | |
v.闪开,躲开,避开;n.妙计,诡计 | |
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72 promotion | |
n.提升,晋级;促销,宣传 | |
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73 retardation | |
n.智力迟钝,精神发育迟缓 | |
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74 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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75 legitimately | |
ad.合法地;正当地,合理地 | |
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76 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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77 virulent | |
adj.有毒的,有恶意的,充满敌意的 | |
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78 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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79 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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80 recuperate | |
v.恢复 | |
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81 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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82 aspirants | |
n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的,有抱负的,追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 );有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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83 dangle | |
v.(使)悬荡,(使)悬垂 | |
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84 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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85 swarm | |
n.(昆虫)等一大群;vi.成群飞舞;蜂拥而入 | |
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86 moths | |
n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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87 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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88 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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89 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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90 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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91 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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92 holders | |
支持物( holder的名词复数 ); 持有者; (支票等)持有人; 支托(或握持)…之物 | |
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93 corruptions | |
n.堕落( corruption的名词复数 );腐化;腐败;贿赂 | |
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94 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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95 custodians | |
n.看守人,保管人( custodian的名词复数 ) | |
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96 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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97 disinterested | |
adj.不关心的,不感兴趣的 | |
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98 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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99 requited | |
v.报答( requite的过去式和过去分词 );酬谢;回报;报复 | |
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100 advisers | |
顾问,劝告者( adviser的名词复数 ); (指导大学新生学科问题等的)指导教授 | |
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101 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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102 extraneous | |
adj.体外的;外来的;外部的 | |
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103 offset | |
n.分支,补偿;v.抵消,补偿 | |
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104 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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105 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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106 throttling | |
v.扼杀( throttle的现在分词 );勒死;使窒息;压制 | |
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107 displeasing | |
不愉快的,令人发火的 | |
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108 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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109 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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110 licensed | |
adj.得到许可的v.许可,颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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111 authenticated | |
v.证明是真实的、可靠的或有效的( authenticate的过去式和过去分词 );鉴定,使生效 | |
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112 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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113 friendliness | |
n.友谊,亲切,亲密 | |
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114 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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115 glorifying | |
赞美( glorify的现在分词 ); 颂扬; 美化; 使光荣 | |
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116 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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117 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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118 preeminent | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的 | |
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119 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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120 panacea | |
n.万灵药;治百病的灵药 | |
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121 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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122 utterances | |
n.发声( utterance的名词复数 );说话方式;语调;言论 | |
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123 cranberries | |
n.越橘( cranberry的名词复数 ) | |
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124 adroitness | |
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125 satirist | |
n.讽刺诗作者,讽刺家,爱挖苦别人的人 | |
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126 enlist | |
vt.谋取(支持等),赢得;征募;vi.入伍 | |
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127 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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128 definitively | |
adv.决定性地,最后地 | |
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129 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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130 affiliations | |
n.联系( affiliation的名词复数 );附属机构;亲和性;接纳 | |
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131 hover | |
vi.翱翔,盘旋;徘徊;彷徨,犹豫 | |
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132 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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133 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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134 exultant | |
adj.欢腾的,狂欢的,大喜的 | |
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135 nourishment | |
n.食物,营养品;营养情况 | |
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136 gregarious | |
adj.群居的,喜好群居的 | |
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137 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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138 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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139 tolerance | |
n.宽容;容忍,忍受;耐药力;公差 | |
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140 eccentricity | |
n.古怪,反常,怪癖 | |
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141 vocation | |
n.职业,行业 | |
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142 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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143 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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144 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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145 athletics | |
n.运动,体育,田径运动 | |
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146 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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147 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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148 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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149 loyalties | |
n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 );忠心;忠于…感情;要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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150 propitious | |
adj.吉利的;顺利的 | |
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151 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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152 unanimity | |
n.全体一致,一致同意 | |
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153 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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154 legacies | |
n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 );遗留之物;遗留问题;后遗症 | |
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155 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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156 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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157 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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158 donors | |
n.捐赠者( donor的名词复数 );献血者;捐血者;器官捐献者 | |
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159 steer | |
vt.驾驶,为…操舵;引导;vi.驾驶 | |
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160 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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161 founders | |
n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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162 permanently | |
adv.永恒地,永久地,固定不变地 | |
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163 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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164 heroism | |
n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
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165 uncertainties | |
无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 ); 不确定; 变化不定; 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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166 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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167 opalescent | |
adj.乳色的,乳白的 | |
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168 superfluously | |
过分地; 过剩地 | |
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169 perturbing | |
v.使(某人)烦恼,不安( perturb的现在分词 ) | |
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170 distractions | |
n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 );娱乐,消遣;心烦意乱;精神错乱 | |
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171 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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172 serenity | |
n.宁静,沉着,晴朗 | |
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173 auspicious | |
adj.吉利的;幸运的,吉兆的 | |
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174 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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175 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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176 herd | |
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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177 inoculating | |
v.给…做预防注射( inoculate的现在分词 ) | |
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178 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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179 contagious | |
adj.传染性的,有感染力的 | |
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180 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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181 personalities | |
n. 诽谤,(对某人容貌、性格等所进行的)人身攻击; 人身攻击;人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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182 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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183 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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184 philosophic | |
adj.哲学的,贤明的 | |
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185 ferments | |
n.酵素( ferment的名词复数 );激动;骚动;动荡v.(使)发酵( ferment的第三人称单数 );(使)激动;骚动;骚扰 | |
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186 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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187 pervasive | |
adj.普遍的;遍布的,(到处)弥漫的;渗透性的 | |
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188 momentous | |
adj.重要的,重大的 | |
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189 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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190 irrelevant | |
adj.不恰当的,无关系的,不相干的 | |
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191 paramountcy | |
n.最高权威 | |
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192 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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193 espouse | |
v.支持,赞成,嫁娶 | |
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194 investigators | |
n.调查者,审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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195 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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196 precedents | |
引用单元; 范例( precedent的名词复数 ); 先前出现的事例; 前例; 先例 | |
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197 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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198 harassing | |
v.侵扰,骚扰( harass的现在分词 );不断攻击(敌人) | |
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199 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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200 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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201 mediating | |
调停,调解,斡旋( mediate的现在分词 ); 居间促成; 影响…的发生; 使…可能发生 | |
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202 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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