WE talk of man being the rational animal; and the traditional intellectualist philosophy has always made a great point of treating the brutes1 as wholly irrational3 creatures. Nevertheless, it is by no means easy to decide just what is meant by reason, or how the peculiar4 thinking process called reasoning differs from other thought-sequences which may lead to similar results.
Much of our thinking consists of trains of images suggested one by another, of a sort of spontaneous revery of which it seems likely enough that the higher brutes should be capable. This sort of thinking leads nevertheless to rational conclusions, both practical and theoretical. The links between the terms are either 'contiguity6' or 'similarity,' and with a mixture of both these things we can hardly be very incoherent. As a rule, in this sort of irresponsible thinking, the terms which fall to be coupled together are empirical concretes, not abstractions. A sunset may call up the vessel7's deck from which I saw one last summer, the companions of my voyage, my arrival into port, etc.; or, it may make me think of solar myths, of Hercules' and Hector's funeral pyres, of Homer and whether he could write, of the Greek alphabet, etc. If habitual9 contiguities10 dominate, we have a prosaic11 mind; if rare contiguities, similarities, have free play, we call the person fanciful, poetic12, or witty13. But the thought as a rule is of matters taken in their entirety. Having been thinking of one, we later that we are thinking of another, to which we have I lifted along, we hardly know how. If an abstract quality figures in the procession, it arrests our attention but for a moment, and fades into something else; and is never very abstract. Thus, in thinking of the sun-myths, we may have a gleam of admiration14 at the gracefulness15 of the primitive16 human mind, or a moment of disgust at the narrowness of modern interpreters. But, in the main, we think less of qualities than of whole things, real or possible, just as we may experience them.
The upshot of it may be that we are reminded of some practical duty: we write a letter to a friend abroad, or we take down the lexicon17 and study our Creek18 lesson. Our thought is rational, and leads to a rational act, but it can hardly be called reasoning in a strict sense of the term. There are other shorter flights of thought, single couplings of terms which suggest one another by association, which approach more to what would commonly be classed as acts of reasoning proper. Those are where a present sign suggests an unseen, distant, or future reality. Where the sign and what it suggests are both concretes which have been coupled together on previous occasions, the inference is common to both brutes and men, being really nothing more than association by contiguity. A and B, dinner-bell and dinner, have been experienced in immediate19 succession. Hence A no sooner falls upon the sense than B is anticipated, and steps are taken to meet it. The whole education of our domestic beasts, all the cunning added by age and experience to wild ones, and the greater part of our human knowingness consists in the ability to make a, mass of inferences of this simplest sort. Our 'perceptions,' or recognitions of what objects are before us, are inferences of this kind. 'We feel a patch of color, and we say' a distant house,' a whiff of odor crosses us, and we say 'a skunk,' a faint sound is heard, and we call it 'a railroad train.' Examples are needless; for such inferences of sensations not presented form the staple22 and tissue of our perceptive23 life, and our Chapter XIX was full of them, illusory or veracious24. They have been called unconscious inferences . Certainly we are commonly unconscious that we are inferring at all. The sign and the signified melt into what seems' to us the object of a single pulse of thought. Immediate inferences would be a good name for these simple acts of reasoning requiring but two terms, 2 were it not that formal logic25 has already appropriated the expression for a more technical use.
"Recepts."
In these first and simplest inferences the conclusion may follow so continuously upon the 'sign' that the latter is not discriminated26 or attended to as a separate object by the mind. Even now we can seldom define the optical signs which lead us to infer the shapes and distances of the objects which by their aid we so unhesitatingly perceive. The objects, too, when thus inferred, are general objects. The dog crossing a scent28 thinks of a deer in general, or of another dog in general, not of a particular deer or dog. To these most primitive abstract objects Dr. G. J. Romanes gives the name of recepts or generic29 ideas, to distinguish them from concepts and general ideas properly so called. 3 They are not analyzed30 or defined, but only imagined.
"It requires but a slight analysis of our ordinary mental processes to prove that all our simpler ideas are group-arrangements which have been formed spontaneously or without any of that intentionally32 comparing, sifting33, and combining process which is required in the higher departments of ideational activity. The comparing, sifting, and combining is here done, as it were, for the conscious agent, not by him. Recepts are received; it is only concepts that require to be conceived. . . . If I am crossing a street and hear behind me a sudden shout, I do not require to wait in order to predicate to myself that there is probably a hansom-cab just about to ran me down: a cry of this kind, and in those circumstances, is so intimately associated in my mind with its purpose, that the idea which it arouses need not rise above the level of a recept; and the adaptive movements on my part which that idea immediately prompts are performed without any intelligent reflection. Yet, on the other hand, they are neither reflex actions nor instinctive35 actions; they are what may be termed receptual actions, or actions depending on recepts." 4
How far can this kind of unnamed or non-conceptional ideation extend?" Dr. Romanes asks; and answers by a variety of examples taken from the life of brutes, for which I must refer to his book. One or two of them, however, I Will quote:
"Houzeau writes that while crossing a wide and arid36 plain in Texas, his two dogs suffered greatly from thirst, and that between thirty and forty times they rushed down the hollows to search for water. The hollows were not valleys, and there were no trees in them, or any other difference in the vegetation; and as they were absolutely dry, there could have been no smell of damp earth. The dogs behaved as if they knew that a dip in the ground offered them the best chance of finding water, and Houzeau has often witnessed the same behavior in other animals. . . .
"Mr. Darwin writes: 'When I say to my terrier in an eager voice (and I have made the trial many times), "Hi! hi! where is it?" she at once takes it as a sign that something is to be hunted, and generally first looks quickly all round, and then rushes into the nearest thicket37, to scout38 for any game, but finding nothing she looks up into any neighboring tree for a squirrel. Now do not these actions clearly show that she had in her mind a general idea, or concept, that some animal is to be discovered and hunted?’" 5
They certainly show this. But the idea in question is of an object about which nothing farther may be articulately known. The thought of it prompts to activity, but to no theoretic consequence. Similarly in the following example:
"Water-fowl adopt a somewhat different mode of alighting upon land, or even upon ice, from that which they adopt when alighting upon water; and those kinds which dive from a height (such as terns and gannets) never do so upon land or upon ice. These facts prove that the animals have one recept answering to a solid surface, and another answering to a fluid. Similarly a man will not dive from a height over hard ground or over ice, nor will he jump into water in the same way as he jumps upon dry land. In other words, like the water-fowl he has two distinct recepts, one of which answers to solid ground, and the other to an unresisting fluid. But unlike the water-fowl he is able to bestow39 upon each of these recepts a name, and thus to raise them both to the level of concepts. So far as the practical purposes of locomotion40 are concerned, it is of course immaterial whether or not he thus raises his recepts into concepts; but . . . for many other purposes it is of the highest importance that he is able to do this." 6
In Reasoning, We Pick Out Essential Qualities.
The chief of these purposes is predication, a theoretic function which, though it always leads eventually to some kind of action, yet tends as often as not to inhibit41 the immediate motor response to which the simple inferences of which we have been speaking give rise. In reasoning, I may suggest B; but B, instead of being an idea which is simply obeyed by us, is an idea which suggests the distinct additional idea C. And where the train of suggestion is one of reasoning distinctively42 so called as contrasted with mere43 revelry or 'associative’ sequence, the ideas bear certain inward relations to each other which we must proceed to examine with some care.
The result C yielded by a true act of reasoning is apt to be a thing voluntarily sought, such as the means to a proposed end, the ground for an observed effect, or the effect of an assumed cause. All these results may be thought of as concrete things, but they are not suggested immediately by other concrete things, as in the trains of simply associative thought. They are linked to the concretes which precede them by intermediate steps, and these steps are formed by general characters articulately denoted and expressly analyzed out. A thing inferred by reasoning need neither have been an habitual associate of the datum44 from which we infer it, nor need it be similar to it. It may be a thing entirely45 unknown to our previous experience, something which no simple association of concretes could ever have evoked46. The great difference, in fact, between that simpler kind of rational thinking which consists in the concrete objects of past experience merely suggesting each other, and reasoning distinctively so called, is this, that whilst the empirical thinking is only reproductive, reasoning is productive. An empirical, or 'rule-of-thumb,' thinker can deduce nothing from data with whose behavior and associates in the concrete he is unfamiliar47. But put a reasoner amongst a set of concrete objects which he has neither seen nor heard of before, and with a little time, if he is a good reasoner, he will make such inferences from them as will quite atone48 for his ignorance. Reasoning helps us out of unprecedented49 situations -- situations for which all our common associative wisdom, all the 'education' which we share in common with the beasts, leaves us without resource.
Let us make this ability to deal with NOVEL data the technical differentia of reasoning . This will sufficiently50 mark it out from common associative thinking, and will immediately enable us to say just what peculiarity51 it contains.
It contains analysis and abstraction . Whereas the merely empirical thinker stares at a fact in its entirety, and remains52 helpless, or gets 'stuck,' if it suggests no concomitant or similar, the reasoner breaks it up and notices some one of its separate attributes. This attribute he takes to be the essential part of the whole fact before him. This attribute has properties or consequences which the fact until then was not known to have, but which, now that it is noticed to contain the attribute, it must have.
Call the fact or concrete datum S;
the essential attribute M;
the attribute's property P.
Then the reasoned inference of P from S cannot be made without M's intermediation. The ‘essence' M is thus that third or middle term in the reasoning which a moment ago was pronounced essential. For his original concrete S the reasoner substitutes its abstract property, M . What is true of M, what is coupled with M, then holds true of S, is coupled with S. As M is properly one of the parts of the entire S, reasoning may then be very well defined as the substitution of parts and their implications or consequences for wholes. And the art of the reasoner will consist of two stages:
First, sagacity, 7 or the ability to discover what part, M, lies embedded53 in the whole S which is before him;
Second, learning, or the ability to recall promptly54 M's consequences, concomitants, or implications. 8
If we glance at the ordinary syllogism55 --
M is P;
S is M;
S is P
-- we see that the second or minor56 premise57, the 'subsumption' as it is sometimes called, is the one requiring the sagacity; the first or major the one requiring the fertility, or fullness of learning. Usually the learning is more apt to be ready than the sagacity, the ability to seize fresh aspects in concrete things, being rarer than the ability to learn old rules; so that, in most actual cases of reasoning, the minor premise, or the way of conceiving the subject, is the one that makes the novel step in thought. This is, to be sure, not always the case; for the fact that M carries P with it may also be unfamiliar and now formulated58 for the first time.
The perception that S is M is a mode of conceiving S. The statement that M is P is an abstract or general proposition . A word about both is necessary.
What is Meant by a Mode of Conceiving.
When we conceive of S merely as M (of vermilion merely as a mercury-compound, for example), we neglect all the other attributes which it may have, and attend exclusively to this one. We mutilate the fulness of S's reality. Every reality has an infinity60 of aspects or properties. Even so simple a fact as a line which you trace in the air may be considered in respect to its form, its length, its direction, and its location. When we reach more complex facts, the number of ways in which we may regard them is literally61 endless. Vermilion is not only a mercury-compound, it is vividly62 red, heavy, and expensive, it comes from China, and so on, in infinitum . All objects are well-springs of properties, which are only little by little developed to our knowledge, and it is truly said that to know one thing thoroughly63 would be to know the whole universe. Mediately34 or immediately, that one thing is related to everything else; and to know all about it, all its relations need be known. But each relation forms one of its attributes, one angle by which some one may conceive it, and while so conceiving it may ignore the rest of it, ii man is such a complex fact. But out of the complexity64 all that an army commissary picks out as important for his purposes is his property of eating so many pounds a day; the general, of marching so many miles; the chair-maker, of having such a, shape; the orator65, of responding to such and such feelings; the theatre-manager, of being willing to pay just such a price, and no more, for an evening's amusement. Each of these persons singles out the particular side of the entire man which has a bearing on his concerns, and not till this side is distinctly and separately conceived can the proper practical conclusions for that reasoner be drawn66; and when they are drawn the man's other attributes may be ignored.
All ways of conceiving a concrete fact, if they are true ways at all, are equally true ways. There is no property ABSOLUTELY essential to any one thing . The same property which figures as the essence of a thing on one occasion becomes a very inessential feature upon another. Now that I am writing, it is essential that I conceive my paper as a surface for inscription68. If I failed to do that, I should have to stop my work. But if I wished to light a, fire, and no other materials were by the essential way of conceiving the paper would be as combustible69 material; and I need then have no thought of any of its other destinations. It is really all that it is: a combustible, a writing surface, a thin thing, a hydrocarbonaceous thing, a thing eight inches one way and ten another, a thing just one furlong east of a certain stone in my neighbor's field, an American thing, etc., etc., ad infinitum . Whichever one of these aspects of its being I temporarily class it under, makes me unjust to the other aspects. But tie I always am classing it under one aspect or another, I am always unjust, always partial, always exclusive. My excuse is necessity -- the necessity which my finite and practical nature lays upon me. My thinking is first and last and always for the sake of my doing, and I can only do one thing at a time. A God, who is supposed to drive the whole universe abreast70, may also be supposed, without detriment71 to his activity, to see all parts of it at once and without emphasis. But were our human attention so to disperse72 itself we should simply stare vacantly at things at large and forfeit73 our opportunity of doing any particular act. Mr. Warner, in his Adirondack story, shot a beer by aiming, not at his eye or heart, but 'at him gen- erally.' But we cannot aim 'generally' at the universe; or if we do, we miss our game. Our scope is narrow, and we must attack things piecemeal75, ignoring the solid fulness in which the elements of Nature exist, and stringing one after another of them together in a serial76 way, to suit our little interests as they change from hour to hour. In this, the partiality of one moment is partly atoned77 for by the different sort of partiality of the next. To me now, writing these words, emphasis and selection seem to be the essence of the human mind. In other chapters other qualities have seemed, and will again seem, more important parts of psychology78.
Men are so ingrained partial that, for common-sense and scholasticism (which is only common-sense grown articulate), the notion that there is no one quality genuinely, absolutely, and exclusively essential to anything is almost unthinkable. "B thing's essence makes it what it is. Without an exclusive essence it would be nothing in particular, would be quite nameless, we could not say it was this rather than that. What you write on, for example, -- why talk of its being combustible, rectangular, and the like, when you know that these are mere accidents, and that what it really is, and was made to be, is just paper and nothing else?" The reader is pretty sure to make some such comment as this. But he is himself merely insisting on an aspect of the thing which suits his own petty purpose, that of naming the thing; or else on an aspect which suits the manufacturer's purpose, that of producing an article for which there is a vulgar demand. Meanwhile the reality overflows79 these purposes at every pore. Our usual purpose with it, our commonest title for it, and the properties which this title suggests, have in reality nothing sacramental. They characterize us more than they characterize the thing. But we are so stuck in our prejudices, so petrified80 intellectually, that to our vulgarest names, with their suggestions, we ascribe an eternal and exclusive worth. The thing must be, essentially81, what the vulgarest name connotes; what less usual names connote, it can be only in an 'accidental’ and relatively82 unreal sense. 9
Locke undermined the fallacy. But none of his successors, so far as I know, have radically83 escaped it, or seen that the only meaning of essence is teleological84, and that classification and conception are purely85 teleological weapons of the mind . The essence of a thing is that one of its properties which is so important for my interests that in comparison with it I may neglect the rest. Amongst those other things which have this important property I class it, after this property I name it, as a thing endowed with this property I conceive it; and whilst so classing, naming, and conceiving it, all other truth about it becomes to me as naught86. 10 The properties which are important vary from man to man and from hour to hour. 11 Hence clivers appellations87 and conceptions for the same thing. But many objects of daily use -- as paper, ink, butter, horse-car -- have properties of such constant unwavering importance, and have such stereotyped88 names, that we end by believing that to conceive them in those ways is to conceive them in the only true way. Those are no truer ways of conceiving them than any others; they are only more important ways, more frequently serviceable ways. 12
So much for what is implied, when the reasoner conceives of the fact S before him as a case of which the essence is to be M. One word now as to what is involved in M's having properties, consequences, or implications, and we can go back to the study of the reasoning process again.
What is Involved in General Propositions.
M is not a, concrete, or 'self-sufficient,' as Mr. Clay would say. It is an abstract character which may exist, embedded with other characters, in many concretes. Whether it be the character of being a writing surface, of being made in America or China, of being eight inches square, or of being in a certain part of space, this is always true of it. Now we might conceive of this being a world in which all such general characters were independent of each other, so that if any one of them were found in a subject S, we never could be sure what others would be found alongside of it. On one occasion there might be P with M, on another Q, and so on. In such a world there would be no generic sequences or coexistences, and no universal laws. Each grouping would be sui generis; from the experience of the past no future could be predicted; and reasoning, as we shall presently see, would be an impossibility.
But the world we live in is not one of this sort. Though many general characters seem indifferent to each other, there remain a number of them which affect constant habits of mutual90 concomitance or repugance. They involve or imply each other. One of them is a sign to us that the other will be found. They hunt in couples, as it were; and such a proposition as that M is P, or includes P, or precedes or accompanies P, if it prove to be true in one instance, may very likely be true in every other instance which we meet. This is, in fact, a, world in which general laws obtain, in which universal propositions are true, and in which reasoning is therefore possible. Fortunately for us: for since we cannot handle things as wholes, but only by conceiving them through some general character which for the time we call their essence, it would be a great pity if the matter ended there, and if the general character, once picked out and in our possession, helped us to no farther advance. In Chapter XXVIII we shall have again to consider this harmony between our reasoning faculty91 and the world in which its lot is cast 13
To revert92 now to our symbolic93 representation of the reasoning process:
S is P
S is M
S is P
M is discerned and picked out for the time being to be the essence of the concrete fact, phenomenon, or reality, S. But M in this world of ours is inevitably94 conjoined with P; so that P is the next thing that we may expect to find conjoined with the fact S. We may conclude or infer P, through the intermediation of the M which our sagacity began by discerning, when S came before it, to be the essence of the ease.
Now note that if P have any value or importance for us, M was a very good character for our sagacity to pounce95 upon and abstract. If, on the contrary, P were of no importance, some other character than M would have been a better essence for us to conceive of S by. Psychologically, as a rule, P overshadows the process from the start. We are seeking P, or something like P. But the bare totality of S does not yield it to our gaze; and casting about for some point in S to take hold of, which will lead us to P, we hit, if we are sagacious, upon M, because M happens to be just the character which is knit up with P. Had we wished instead of P, and were N a property of S conjoined with Q, we ought to have ignored M, noticed N, and conceived of S as a sort of N exclusively.
Reasoning is always for a subjective96 interest, to attain97 some particular conclusion, or to gratify some special curiosity. It not only breaks up the datum placed before it and conceives it abstractly; it must conceive it rightly too; and conceiving it rightly means conceiving it by that one particular abstract character which leads to the one sort of conclusion which it is the reasoner's temporary interest to attain. 14
The results of reasoning may be hit upon by accident. The stereoscope was actually a result of reasoning; it is conceivable, however, that a man playing with pictures and mirrors might accidentally have hit upon it. Cats have been known to open doors by pulling latches99, etc. But no cat, if the latch98 got out of order, could open the door again, unless some new accident of random100 fumbling101 taught her to associate some new total movement with the total phenomenon of the closed door. A reasoning man, however, would open the door by first analyzing102 the hindrance103. He would ascertain104 what particular feature of the door was wrong. The lever, e.g., does not raise the latch sufficiently from-its slot-case of insufficient105 elevation-raise door bodily on hinges! Or door sticks at top by friction106 against lintel -- press it bodily down! Now it is obvious that a child or an idiot might without this reasoning learn the rule for opening that particular door. I remember a clock which the maid-servant had discovered would not go unless it were supported so as to tilt107 slightly forwards. She had stumbled on this method after many weeks of groping. The reason of the stoppage was the friction of the pendulum108-bob against the back of the clock-case, a reason which an educated man would have analyzed out in five minutes. I have a student's lamp of which the flame vibrates most unpleasantly unless the collar which bears the chimney be raised about a sixteenth of an inch. I learned the remedy after much torment109 by accident, and now always keep the collar up with a small wedge. But my procedure is a mere association of two totals, diseased object and remedy. One learned in pneumatics could have named the cause of the disease, and thence inferred the remedy immediately. By many measurements of triangles one might find their area always equal to their height multiplied by half their base, and one might formulate59 an empirical law to that effect. But a reasoner saves himself all this trouble by seeing that it is the essence ( pro5 hac vice89 ) of a triangle to be the half of a parallelogram whose area is tile height into the entire base. To see this he must invent additional lines; and the geometer must often draw such to get at the essential property he may require in a figure. The essence consists in some relation of the figure to the new lines, a relation not obvious at all until they are put in. The geometer's sagacity lies in the invention of the new lines.
Thus, There Are Two Great Points in Reasoning
First, an extracted character is taken as equivalent to the entire document from which it comes; and,
Second, the character thus taken suggests a certain consequence more obviously than it was suggested by the total datum as it originally came . Take them again, successively.
1. Suppose I say, when offered a piece of cloth, "I won’t buy that; it looks as if it would fade," meaning merely that something about it suggests the idea of fading to my mind, -- my judgment110, though possibly correct, is not reasoned, but purely empirical; but, if I can say that into the color there enters a certain dye which I know to be chemically unstable111, and that therefore the color will fade, my judgment is reasoned. The notion of the dye which is one of the parts of the cloth, is the connecting link between the latter and the notion of fading. So, again, an uneducated man will expect from past experience to see a piece of ice melt if placed near the fire, and the tip of his finger look coarse if he views it through a, convex glass. In neither of these cases could the result be anticipated without full previous acquaintance with the entire phenomenon. It is not a result of reasoning.
But a man who should conceive heat as a mode of motion, and liquefaction as identical with increased motion of molecules112; who should know that curved surfaces bend light-rays in special ways, and that the apparent size of anything is connected with the amount of the 'bend' of its light-rays as they enter the eye, -- such a man would make the right inferences for all these objects, even though he had never in his life had any concrete experience of them; and he would do this because the ideas which we have above supposed him to possess would mediate20 in his mind between the phenomena113 he starts with and the conclusions he draws. But these ideas or reasons for his conclusions are all mere extracted portions or circumstances singled out from the mass of characters which make up the entire phenomena. The motions which form heat, the bending of the light-waves, are, it is true, excessively recondite114 ingredients; the hidden pendulum I spoke115 of above is less so; and the sticking of a door on its sill in the earlier example would hardly be so at all. But each and all agree in this, that they bear a more evident relation to the conclusion than did the immediate data in their full totality. The difficulty is, in each case, to extract front the immediate data that particular ingredient which shall have this very evident relation to the conclusion. Every phenomenon or so-called 'fact' has an infinity of aspects or properties, as we have seen, amongst which the fool, or man with little sagacity, will inevitably go astray. But no matter for this point now. The first thing is to have seen that every possible case of reasoning involves the extraction of a particular partial aspect of the phenomena thought about, and that whilst Empirical Thought simply associates phenomena in their entirety, Reasoned Thought couples them by the conscious use of this extract.
2. And, now, to prove the second point: Why are the couplings, consequences, and implications of extracts more evident and obvious than those of entire phenomena? For two reasons.
First, the extracted characters are more general than the concretes, and the connections they may have are, therefore, more familiar to us, having been more often met in our experience. Think of heat as motion, and whatever is true of motion will be true of heat; but we have had a hundred experiences of motion for every one of heat. Think of the rays passing through this lens as bending towards the perpendicular117, and you substitute for the comparatively unfamiliar lens the very familiar notion of a particular change in direction of a line, of which notion everyday brings us countless118 examples.
The other reason why the relations of the extracted characters are so evident is that their properties are so few, compared with the properties of the whole, from which we derived119 them. In every concrete total the characters and their consequences are so inexhaustibly numerous that we may lose our way among them before noticing the particular consequence it behooves120 us to draw. But, if we are lucky enough to single out the proper character, we take in, as it were, by a single glance all its possible consequences. Thus the character of scraping the sill has very few suggestions, prominent among which is the suggestion that the scraping will cease if we raise the door; whilst the entire refractory121 door suggests an enormous number of notions to the mind.
Take another example. I am sitting in a railroad-car, waiting for the train to start. It is winter, and the stove fills the car with pungent122 smoke. The brakeman enters, and my neighbor asks him to "stop that stove smoking." He replies that it will stop entirely as soon as the car begins to move. "Why so?" asks the passenger. "It always does," replies the brakeman. It is evident from this ‘always’ that the connection between car moving and smoke stopping was a purely empirical one in the brake-man's mind, bred of habit. But, if the passenger had been an acute reasoner, he, with no experience of what that stove always did, might have anticipated the brakeman's reply, and spared his own question. Had he singled out of all the numerous points involved in a stove's not smoking the one special point of smoke pouring freely out of the stove-pipe’s mouth, he would, probably, owing to the few associations of that idea, have been immediately reminded of the law that a fluid passes more rapidly out of a pipe's mouth if another fluid be at the saline time streaming over that mouth; and then the rapid draught123 of air over the stove-pipe's mouth, which is one of the points involved in the car's motion, would immediately have occurred to him. Thus a couple of extracted characters, with a couple of their few and obvious connections, would have formed the reasoned link in the passenger's mind between the phenomena, smoke stopping and car moving, which were only linked as wholes in the brakeman's mind. Such examples may seem trivial, but they contain the essence of the most refined and transcendental theorizing. The reason why physics grows more deductive the more the fundamental properties it assumes are of a mathematical sort, such as molecular125 mass or wave-length, is that the immediate consequences of these notions are so few that we can survey them all at once, and promptly pick out those which concern us.
Sagacity; or the Perception of the Essence.
To reason, then, we must be able to extract characters, -- not any characters, but the right characters for our conclusion. If we extract the wrong character, it will not lead to that conclusion. Here, then, is the difficulty: How are characters extracted, and why does it require the advent126 of a genius in many cases before the fitting character is brought to light? Why cannot anybody reason as well as anybody else? Why does it need a Newton to notice tile law of the squares, a Darwin to notice the survival of the fittest? To answer these questions we must begin a new research, and see how our insight into facts naturally grows.
All our knowledge at first is vague. When we say that a thing is vague, we mean that it has no subdivisions ab intra, nor precise limitations ab extra; but still all the forms of thought may apply to it. It may have unity74, reality, externality, extent, and what not -- thinghood, in a word, but thinghood only as a, whole. 15 In this vague way, probably, does the room appear to the babe who first begins to be conscious of it as something other than his moving nurse. It has no subdivisions in his mind, unless, perhaps, the window is able to attract his separate notice. In this vague way, certainly, does every entirely new experience appear to the adult. A library, a museum, a machine-shop, are mere confused wholes to the uninstructed, but the machinist, the antiquary, and the bookworm perhaps hardly notice the whole at all, so eager are they to pounce upon the details. Familiarity has in them bred discrimination. Such vague terms as 'grass,' 'mould,' and 'meat' do not exist for the botanist127 or the anatomist. They know too much about grasses, moulds, and muscles. A certain person said to Charles Kingsley, who was showing him the dissection128 of a caterpillar129, with its exquisite130 viscera, "Why, thought it was nothing but skin and squash!" A layman131 present at a shipwreck132, a battle, or a fire is helpless. Discrimination has been so little awakened133 in him by experience that his consciousness leaves no single point of the complex situation accented aud [sic] standing135 out for him to begin to act upon. But the sailor, the fireman, and the general know directly at what corner to take up the business. They 'see into the situation --that is, they analyze31 it -- with their first glance. It is full of delicately differenced ingredients which their education has little by little brought to their consciousness, but of which the novice136 gains no clear idea.
How this power of analysis was brought about we saw in our chapters on Discrimination and Attention. We dissociate the elements of originally vague totals by attending to them or noticing them alternately, of course. But what determines which element we shall attend to first? There are two immediate and obvious answers: first, our practical or instinctive interests; and, second, our æsthetic interests. The dog singles out of any situation its smells, and the horse its sounds, because they may reveal facts of practical moment, and are instinctively137 exciting to these several creatures. The infant notices the candle-flame or the window, and ignores the rest of the room, because those objects give him a vivid pleasure. So, the country boy dissociates the blackberry, the chestnut138, and the wintergreen, from the vague mass of other shrubs139 and trees, for their practical uses, and the savage140 is delighted with the beads141, the bits of looking-glass, brought by an exploring vessel, and gives no heed142 to the features of the vessel itself, which is too much beyond his sphere. These æsthetic and practical interests, then, are the weightiest factors in making particular ingredients stand out in high relief. What they lay their accent on, that we notice; but what they are in themselves, we cannot say. We must content ourselves here with simply accepting them as irreducible ultimate factors in determining the way our knowledge grows.
Now, a creature which has few instinctive impulses, or interests, practical or æsthetic, will dissociate few characters, and will, at best, have limited reasoning powers; whilst one whose interests are very varied143 will reason much better. Man, by his immensely varied instincts, practical wants, and aesthetic144 feelings, to which every sense contributes, would, by dint145 of these alone, be sure to dissociate vastly more characters than any other animal; and accordingly we had that the lowest savages146 reason incomparably better than the highest brutes. The diverse interests lead, too, to a diversification147 of experiences, whose accumulation becomes a condition for the play of that law of dissociation by varying concomitants of which I treated in a former chapter (see Vol I. p. 506).
The Help given by Association by Similarity.
It is probable, also, that man's superior association by similarity has much to do with those discriminations of character on which his higher flights of reasoning are based. As this latter is an important matter, and as little or nothing was said of it in the chapter on Discrimination, it behooves me to dwell a little upon it here.
That does the reader do when he wishes to see in what the precise likeness148 or difference of two objects lies? He transfers his attention as rapidly as possible, backwards149 and forwards, from one to the other. The rapid alteration150 in consciousness shakes out, as it were, the points of difference or agreement, which would have slumbered151 forever unnoticed if the consciousness of the objects compared had occurred at widely distant periods of time. What does the scientific man do who searches for the reason or law embedded in a phenomenon? He deliberately152 accumulates all the instances he can and which have any analogy to that phenomenon; and by simultaneously153 filling his mind with them all, he frequently succeeds in detaching from the collection the peculiarity which he was unable to formulate in one alone; even though that one had been preceded in his former experience by all of those with which he now at once confronts it. These examples show that the mere general fact of having occurred at some time in one's experience, with varying concomitants, is not by itself a sufficient reason for a character to be dissociated now. We need something more; we need that the varying concomitants should in all their variety be brought into consciousness at once . Not till then will the character in question escape from its adhesion to each and all of them and stand alone. This will immediately be recognized by those who have read Mill's Logic as the ground of Utility in his famous 'four methods of experimental inquiry,' the methods of agreement, of difference, of residues154, and of concomitant variations. Each of these gives a list of analogous155 instances out of the midst of which a sought-for character may roll and strike the mind.
Now it is obvious that any mind in which association by similarity is highly developed is a mind which will spontaneously form lists of instances like this. Take a present case A, with a character m in it. The mind may fail at first to notice this character m at all. But if A calls up C, D, E, and F, -- these being phenomena which resemble A in possessing m, but which may not have entered for months into the experience of the animal who now experiences A, why, plainly, such association performs the part of the reader's deliberately rapid comparison referred to above, and of the systematic156 consideration of like cases by the scientific investigator157, and may lead to the noticing of m in an abstract way. Certainly this is obvious; and no conclusion is left to us but to assert that, after the few most powerful practical and æsthetic interests, our chief help towards noticing those special characters of phenomena, which, when once possessed158 and named, are used as reasons, class names, essences, or middle terms, is this association by similarity . Without it, indeed, the deliberate procedure of the scientific man would be impossible: he could never collect his analogous instances. But it operates of itself in highly-gifted minds without any deliberation, spontaneously collecting analogous instances, uniting in a moment whet8 in nature the whole breadth of space and time keeps separate, and so permitting a, perception of identical points in the midst of different circumstances, which minds governed wholly by the law of contiguity could never begin to attain.
Figure 80 shows this. If m, in the present representation A, calls up B, C, D, and E, which are similar to A in possessing it, and calls them up in rapid succession, then m, being associated almost simultaneously with such varying concomitants, will ‘roll out' and attract our separate notice.
If so much is clear to the reader, he will be willing to admit that the mind in which this mode of association most prevails will, from its better opportunity of extricating159 characters, be the one most prone160 to reasoned thinking; whilst, on the other hand, a mind in which we do not detect reasoned thinking will probably be one in which association by contiguity holds almost exclusive sway.
Geniuses are, by common consent, considered to differ from ordinary minds by an unusual development of association by similarity. One of Professor Bain's best strokes of work is the exhibition of this truth. 16 It applies to geniuses in the line of reasoning as well as in other lines. And as the genius is to the vulgarian, so the vulgar human mind is to the intelligence of a brute2. Compared with men, it is probable that brutes neither attend to abstract characters, nor have associations by similarity. Their thoughts probably pass from one concrete object to its habitual concrete successor far more uniformly than is the case with us. In other words, their associations of ideas are almost exclusively by contiguity. It will clear up still farther our understanding of the reasoning process, if we devote a few pages to
The Intellectual Contrast Between Brute and Man.
I will first try to show, by taking the best stories I can find of animal sagacity, that the mental process involved may as a rule be perfectly161 accounted for by mere contiguous association, based on experience. Mr. Darwin, in his ‘Descent of Man,' instances the Arctic dogs, described by Dr. Hayes, who scatter162, when drawing a sledge163, as soon as the ice begins to crack. This might be called by some an exercise of reason. The test would be, Would the most intelligent Eskimo dogs that ever lived act so when placed upon ice for the first time together? A band of men from the tropics might do so easily. Recognizing cracking to be a sign of breaking, and seizing immediately the partial character that the point of rupture164 is the point of greatest strain, and that the massing of weight at a given point concentrates there the strain, a, Hindoo might quickly infer that scattering165 would stop the cracking, and, by crying out to his comrades to disperse, save the party from immersion166. But in the dog's case we need only suppose that they have individually experienced wet skins after cracking, that they have often noticed cracking to begin when they were huddled167 together, and that they have observed it to cease when they scattered168. Naturally, therefore, the sound would redintegrate all these former experiences, including that of scattering, which latter they would promptly renew. It would be a case of immediate suggestion or of that 'Logic of Recepts' as Mr. Romanes calls it, of which we spoke above on p. 327.
A friend of the writer gave as a proof of the almost human intelligence of his dog that he took him one day down to his boat on the shore, but found the boat full of dirt and water. He remembered that the sponge was up at the house, a third of at mile distant; but, disliking to go back himself, he made various gestures of wiping out the boat and so forth169, saying to his terrier, "Sponge, sponge; go fetch the sponge." But he had little expectation of a result, since the dog had never received the slightest training with the boat or the sponge. Nevertheless, off he trotted170 to the house, and, to his owner's great surprise and admiration, brought the sponge in his jaws171. Sagacious as this was, it required nothing but ordinary contiguous association of ideas. The terrier was only exceptional in the minuteness of his spontaneous observation. Most terriers would have taken no interest in the boat-cleaning operation, nor noticed what the sponge was for. This terrier, in having picked those details out of the crude mass of his best-experience distinctly enough to be reminded of them, was truly enough ahead of his peers on the line which leads to human reason. But his act was not yet an act of reasoning proper. It might fairly have been called so if, unable to find the sponge at the house, he had brought back a dipper or a mop instead. Such a substitution would have shown that, embedded in the very different appearances of these articles, he had been able to discriminate27 the identical partial attri- bute of capacity to take up water, and had reflected, "For the present purpose they are identical." This, which the dog did not do, any man but the very stupidest could not fail to do.
If the reader will take the trouble to analyze the best dog and elephant stories he knows, he will find that, in most cases, this simple contiguous calling up of one whole by another is quite sufficient to explain the phenomena. Sometimes, it is true, we have to suppose the recognition of a property or character as such, but it is then always a character which the peculiar practical interests of the animal may have singled out. A dog, noticing his master's hat on its peg172, may possibly infer that he has not gone out. Intelligent dogs recognize by the tone of the master's voice whether the latter is angry or not. A dog will perceive whether you have kicked him by accident or by design, and behave accordingly. The character inferred by him, the particular mental state in you, however it be represented in his mind -- it is represented probably by a 'recept' (p. 327) or set of practical tendencies, rather than by a definite concept or ideal -- is still a partial character extracted from the totality of your phenomenal being, and is his reason for crouching173 and skulking174, or playing with you. Dogs, moreover, seem to have the feeling of the value of their master’s personal property, or at least a, particular interest in objects which their master uses. A dog left with his master's coat will defend it, though never taught to do so. I know of a dog accustomed to swim after sticks in the water, but who always refused to dive for stones. Nevertheless, when a fish-basket, which he had never been trained to carry, but merely knew as his master's, fell over, he immediately dived after it and brought it up. Dogs thus discern, at any rate so far as to be able to act, this partial character of being valuable, which lies hidden in certain things. 17 Stories are told of dogs carrying coppers175 to pastry-cooks to get buns, and it is said that a certain dog, if he gave two coppers, would never leave without two buns. This was probably mere contiguous association, but it is possible that the animal noticed the character of duality, and identified it as the same in the coin and the cake. If so, it is the maximum of canine176 abstract thinking. Another story told to the writer is this a dog was sent to a lumber-camp to fetch a wedge, with which he was known to be acquainted. After half an hour, not returning, he was sought and found biting and tugging177 at the handle of an axe178 which was driven deeply into a stump179. The wedge could not be found. The teller180 of the story thought that the dog must have had a, clear perception of the common character of serving to split which was involved in both the instruments, and, from their identity in this respect, inferred their identity for the purposes required.
It cannot be denied that this interpretation181 is a possible one, but it seems to me far to transcend124 the limits of ordinary canine abstraction. The property in question was not one which had direct personal interest for the dog, such as that of belonging to his master is in the case of the coat or the basket. If the dog in the sponge story had returned to the boat with a dipper it would have been no more remarkable182. It seems more probable, therefore, that this wood-cutter's dog had also been accustomed to carry the axe, and now, excited by the vain hunt for the wedge, had discharged his carrying powers upon the former instrument in a sort of confusion -- just as a man may pick up a sieve183 to carry water in, in the excitement of putting out a fire. 18
Thus, then, the characters extracted by animals are very few, and always related to their immediate interests or emotions. That dissociation by varying concomitants, which in man is based so largely on association by similarity, hardly seems to take place at all in the mind of brutes. One total thought suggests to them another total thought, and they and themselves acting184 with propriety185, they know not why. The great, the fundamental, defect of their minds seems to be the inability of their groups of ideas to break across in unaccustomed places. They are enslaved to routine, to cut-and-dried thinking; and if the most prosaic of human beings could be transported into his dog's mind, he would be appalled186 at the utter absence of fancy which reigns187 there. 19 Thoughts will not be found to call up their similars, but only their habitual successors. Sunsets will not suggest heroes' deaths, but supper-time. This is why man is the only metaphysical animal. To wonder why the universe should be as it is presupposes the notion of its being different, and a brute, which never reduces the actual to fluidity by breaking up its literal sequences in his imagination, can never form such a notion. He takes the world simply for granted, and never wonders at it at all.
Professor Strümpell quotes a dog-story which is probably a type of many others. The feat67 performed looks like abstract reasoning; but an acquaintance with all the circumstances show it to have been a random trick learned by habit. The story is as follows:
"I have two dogs, a small, long-legged pet dog and a rather large watch-dog. Immediately beyond the house-court is the garden, into which one enters through a low lattice-gate which is closed by a latched188 on the yard-side. This latch is opened by lifting it. Besides this, moreover, the gate is fastened on the garden-side by a string nailed to the gate-post. Here, as often as one wished, could the following sight be observed. If the little dog was shut in the garden and he wished to get out, he placed himself before the gate and barked. Immediately the large dog in the court would hasten to him and raise the latch with his nose while the little dog on the garden-side leaped up and, catching189 the string in his teeth, bit it through; whereupon the big one wedged his snout between the gate and the post, pushed the gate open, and the little dog slipped through. Certainty reasoning seems here to prevail. In face of it, however, and although the dogs arrived of themselves, and without human aid, at their solution of the gate question, I am able to point out that the complete action was pieced together out of accidental experiences which the dogs followed, I might say, unconsciously. While the large dog was young, he was allowed, like the little one, to go into the garden, and therefore the gate was usually not latched, but simply closed. Now if he saw anyone go in, he would follow by thrusting his snout between gate and post, and so pushing the gate open. When he was grown I forbade his being taken in, and had the gate kept latched. But he naturally still tried to follow when anyone entered and tried in the old fashion to open it, which he could no longer do. Now it fell out that once, while making the attempt, he raised his nose higher than usual and hit the latch from he low so as to lift it off its hook, and the gate unclosed. From thenceforth he made the same movement of the head when trying to open it, and, of course, with the same result. He now knew how to open the gate when it was latched. "The little dog had been the large one's teacher in many things, especially in the chasing of cats and the catching of mice and moles190; so when the little one was heard barking eagerly, the other always hastened to him. If the barking came from the garden, he opened the gate to get inside. But meanwhile the little dog, who wanted to get out the moment the gate opened, slipped out between the big one's legs, and so the appearance of his having come with the intention of letting him out arose. And that it was simply an appearance transpired191 from the fact that when the little dog did not succeed at once in getting out, the large one ran in and nosed about the garden, plainly showing that he had expected to find something there. In order to stop this opening of the gate I fastened a string on the garden-side which, tightly drawn, held the gate firm against the post, so that if the yard dog raised the latch and let go, it would every time fall back on to the book. And this device was successful for quite a time, until it happened one day that on my return from a walk upon which the little dog had accompanied me I crossed the garden, and in passing through the gate the dog remained behind, and refused to come to my whistle. As it was beginning to rain, and I knew how he disliked to get wet, I closed the gate in order to punish him in this manner. But I had hardly reached the house ere he was before the gate, crying and crying most piteously, for the rain was falling faster and faster. The big dog, to whom the rain was a matter of perfect indifference192, was instantly on hand and tried his utmost to open the gate, but naturally without success. Almost in despair the little dog bit at the Rate, at the same time springing into the air in the attempt to jump over it, when he chanced to catch the string in his teeth; it broke, and the gate flew open. Now he knew the secret and thenceforth bit the string whenever he wished to get out, so that I was obliged to change it.
"That the big dog in raising the latch did not in the least know, that the latch closed the gate, that the raising of the same opened it, but that he merely repeated the automatic blow with his snout which had once had such happy consequences, transpires193 from the following: the gate leading to the barn is fastened with a latch precisely194 like the one on the garden-gate, only placed a little higher, still easily within the dog’s reach. Here, too, occasionally the little dog is confined, and when he barks the big one makes every possible effort to open the gate, hut it has never occurred to him to push the latch up. The brute cannot draw conclusions, that is, he cannot think." 20
Other classical differentiæ of man besides that of being the only reasoning animal, also seem consequences of his unrivalled powers of similar association. He has, e.g., been called ‘the laughing animal.' But humor has often been defined as the recognition of identities in things different. When the man in Coriolanus says of that hero that "there is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger," both the invention of the phrase and its enjoyment195 by the hearer depend on a peculiarly perplexing power to associate ideas by similarity.
Man is known again as 'the talking animal'; and language is assuredly a capital distinction between man and brute. But it may readily be shown how this distinction merely shows from those we have pointed196 out, easy dissociation of a representation into its ingredients, and association by similarity.
Language is a system of signs, different from the things signified, but able to suggest them.
No doubt brutes have a number of such signs. When a dog yelps197 in front of a door, and his master, understanding his desire, opens it, the dog may, after a certain number of repetitions, get to repeat in cold blood a yelp198 which was at first the involuntary interjectional expression of strong emotion. The same dog may be taught to ‘beg' for food, and afterwards come to do so deliberately when hungry. The dog also learns to understand the signs of men, and the word 'rat' uttered to a terrier suggests exciting thoughts of the rat-hunt. If the dog had the varied impulse to vocal199 utterance200 which some other animals have, he would probably repeat the word 'rat' whenever he spontaneously happened to think of a rat-hunt-he no doubt does hare it as an auditory image, just as a parrot calls out different words spontaneously from its repertory, and having learned the name of a given dog will utter it on the sight of a different dog. In each of these separate cases the particular sign may be consciously noticed by the animal, as distinct from the particular thing signified, and will thus, so far as it goes, be a true manifestation201 of language. But when we come to man we find a great difference. He has a deliberate intention to apply a sign to everything . The linguistic202 impulse is with him generalized and systematic. For things hitherto unnoticed or unfelt, he desires a sign before he has one. Even though the dog should possess his ‘yelp’ for this thing, his 'beg' for that, and his auditory image 'rat' for a third thing, the matter with him rests there. If a fourth thing interests him for which no sign happens already to have been learned, he remains tranquilly203 without it and goes no further. But the man postulates204 it, its absence irritates him, and he ends by inventing it. This GENERAL PURPOSE constitutes, I take it, the peculiarity of human speech, and explains its prodigious205 development.
How, then, does the general purpose arise? It arises as soon as the notion of a sign as such, apart from any particular import, is born; and this notion is born by dissociation from the outstanding portions of a number of concrete cases of signification. The ‘yelp,' the 'beg,' the 'rat,' differ as to their several imports and natures. They agree only in so far as they have the same use -- to be signs, to stand for something more important than themselves. The dog whom this similarity could strike would have grasped the sign per se as such, and would probably thereupon become a general sign-maker, or speaker in the human sense. But how can the similarity strike him? Not without the juxtaposition206 of the similars (in virtue207 of the law we have laid down (p. 506), that in order to be segregated208 an experience must be repeated with varying concomitants) -- not unless the ‘yelp' of the dog at the moment it occurs recalls to him his 'beg,' by the delicate bond of their subtle similarity of use -- not till then can this thought hash through his mind: "Why, yelp and beg, in spite of all their unlikeness, are yet alike in this: that they are actions, signs, which lead to important boons209. Other boons, any boons, may then be got by other signs!" This reflection made, the gulf210 is passed. Animals probably never make it, because the bond of similarity is not delicate enough. Each sign is drowned in its import, and never awakens211 other signs and other imports in juxtaposition. The rat-hunt idea is too absorbingly interesting in itself to be interrupted by anything so uncontiguous to it as the idea of the 'beg for food,' or of ‘the door-open yelp,' nor in their turn do these awaken134 the rat-hunt idea.
In the human child, however, these ruptures212 of contiguous association are very soon made; far off cases of sign-using arise when we make a sign now; and soon language is launched. The child in each case makes the discovery for himself. No one can help him except by furnishing him with the conditions. But as he is constituted, the conditions will sooner or later shoot together into the result. 21
The exceedingly interesting account which Dr, Rowe gives of the education of his various blind-deaf mutes illustrates213 this point admirably. He began to teach Laura Bridgman by gumming raised letters on various familiar articles. The child was taught by mere contiguity to pick out a certain number of particular articles when made to feel the letters. But this was merely a collection of particular signs, out of the mass of which the general purpose of signification had not yet been extracted by the child's mind. Dr. Howe compares his situation at this moment to that of one lowering a line to the bottom of the deep sea in which Laura's soul lay, and waiting until she should spontaneously take hold of it and be raised into the light. The moment came, 'accompanied by a radiant hash of intelligence and glow of joy'; she seemed suddenly to become aware of the general purpose imbedded in the different details of all these signs, and from that moment her education went on with extreme rapidity.
Another of the great capacities in which man has been said to differ fundamentally from the animal is that of possessing self-consciousness or reflective knowledge of himself as a thinker. But this capacity also flows from our criterion, for (without going into the matter very deeply) we may say that the brute never reflects on himself as a thinker, because he has never clearly dissociated, in the full concrete act of thought, the element of the thing thought of and the operation by which he thinks it. They remain always fused, conglomerated -- just as the interjectional vocal sign of the brute almost invariably merges214 in his mind with the thing signified, and is not independently attended to in se. 22
Now, the dissociation of these two elements probably occurs first in the child's mind on the occasion of some error or false expectation which would make him experience the shock of difference between merely imagining a thing and getting it. The thought experienced once with the concomitant reality, and then without it or with opposite concomitants, reminds the child of other cases in which the same provoking phenomenon occurred. Thus the general ingredient of error may be dissociated and noticed per se, and from the notion of his error or wrong thought to that of his thought in general the transition is easy. The brute, no doubt, has plenty of instances of error and disappointment in his life, but the similar shock is in him most likely always swallowed up in the accidents of the actual case. An expectation disappointed may breed dubiety as to the realization215 of that particular thing when the dog next expects it. But that disappointment, that dubiety, while they represent in the mind, will not call up other cases, in which the material details were different, but this feature of possible error was the same. The brute will, therefore, stop short of dissociating the general notion of error per se, and a fortiori will never attain the conception of Thought itself as such.
We may then, we think, consider it proven that the most elementary single difference between the human mind and that of brutes lies in this deficiency on the brute's part to associate ideas by similarity -- characters, the abstraction of which depends on this sort of association, must in the brute always remain drowned, swamped in the total phenomenon which they help constitute, and never used to reason from. If a character stands out alone, it is always some obvious sensible quality like a sound or a smell which is instinctively exciting and lies in the line of the animal's propensities216; or it is some obvious sign which experience has habitually217 coupled with a consequence, such as, for the dog, the sight of his master's hat on and the master's going out.
Different Orders of Human Genius.
But, now, since nature never makes a jump, it is evident that we should find the lowest men occupying in this respect an intermediate position between the brutes and the highest men. And so we do. Beyond the analogies which their own minds suggest by breaking up the literal sequence of their experience, there is a whole world of analogies which they can appreciate when imparted to them by their betters, but which they could never excogitate alone. This answers the question why Darwin and Newton had to be waited for so long. The flash of similarity between an apple and the moon, between the rivalry218 for food in nature and the rivalry for man's selection, was too recondite to have occurred to any but exceptional minds. Genius, then, as has been already said, is identical with the possession of similar association to an extreme degree . Professor Bain says: "This I count the leading fact of genius. I consider it quite impossible to afford any explanation of intellectual originality219 except on the supposition of unusual energy on this point." Alike in the arts, in literature, in practical affairs, and in science, association by similarity is the prime condition of success.
But as, according to our view, there are two stages in reasoned thought, one where similarity merely operates to call up cognate220 thoughts, and another farther stage, where the bond of identity between the cognate thoughts is noticed; so minds of genius may be divided into two main sorts, those who notice the bond and those who merely obey it. The first are the abstract reasoners, properly so called, the men of science, and philosophers -- the analysts221, in a word; the latter are the poets, the critics -- the artists, in a word, the men of intuitions. These judge rightly, classify cases, characterize them by the most striking analogic epithets222, but go no further. At first sight it might seem that the analytic223 mind represented simply a higher intellectual stage, and that the intuitive mind represented an arrested stage of intellectual development; but the difference is not so simple as this. Professor Bain has said that a man's advance to the scientific stage (the stage of noticing and abstracting the bond of similarity) may often be due to an absence of certain emotional sensibilities. The sense of color, he says, may no less determine a mind away from science than it determines it toward painting There must be a penury224 in one's interest in the details of particular forms in order to permit the forces of the intellect to be concentrated on what is common to many forms. 23 In other words, supposing a, mind fertile in the suggestion of analogies, but, at the same time, keenly interested in the particulars of each suggested image, that mind would be far less apt to single out the particular character which called up the analogy than one whose interests were less generally lively. A certain richness of the æsthetic nature may, therefore, easily keep one in the intuitive stage. All the poets are examples of this. Take Homer:
" Ulysses, too, spied round the house to see if any man were still alive and hiding, trying to get away from gloomy death. He found them all fallen in the blood and dirt, and in such number as the fish which the fishermen to the low shore, out of the foaming225 sea, drag with their meshy nets. These all, sick for the ocean water, are strewn around the sands, while the blazing sun takes their life from them. So there the suitors lay strewn round on one another."
Or again:
"And as when a Mæonian or a Carian woman stains ivory with purple to be a cheek-piece for horses, and it is kept in the chamber226, and many horsemen have prayed to bear it off; but it is kept a treasure for a king, both a trapping for his horse and a glory to the driver -- in such wise were thy stout227 thighs228, Menelaos, and legs and fair ankles stained with blood."
A man in whom all the accidents of an analogy rise up as vividly as this, may be excused for not attending to the ground of the analogy. But he need not on that account be deemed intellectually the inferior of a man of drier mind, in whom the ground is not as liable to be eclipsed by the general splendor229. Rarely are both sorts of intellect, the splendid and the analytic, found in conjunction. Plate among philosophers, and M. Taine, who cannot quote a child's saying without describing the ' voix chantante, étonnée heureuse ' in which it is uttered, are only exceptions whose strangeness proves the rule.
An often-quoted writer has said that Shakespeare possessed more intellectual power than any one else that ever lived. If by this he meant the power to pass from given premises230 to right or congruous conclusions, it is no doubt true. The abrupt231 transitions in Shakespeare's thought astonish the reader by their unexpectedness no less than they delight him by their fitness. Why, for instance, does the death of Othello so stir the spectator's blood and leave him with a sense of reconcilement? Shakespeare himself could very likely not say why; for his invention, though rational, was not ratiocinative. Wishing the curtain to fall upon a reinstated Othello, that speech about the turbaned Turk suddenly simply hashed across him as the right end of all that went before. The dry critic who comes after can, however, point out the subtle bonds of identity that guided Shakespeare's pen through that speech to the death of the Moor232. Othello is sunk in ignominy, lapsed233 from his height from the beginning of the play. What better way to rescue him at last from this abasement234 than to make him for an instant identify himself in memory with the old Othello of better days, and then execute justice on his present disowned body, as he used then to smite235 all enemies of the State? But Shakespeare, whose mind supplied these means, could probably not have told why they were so effective. But though this is true, and though it would be absurd in an absolute way to say that a given analytic mind was superior to any intuitional one, yet it is none the less true that the former represents the higher stage. Men, taken historically, reason by analogy long before they have learned to reason by abstract characters. Association by similarity and true reasoning may have identical results. If a philosopher wishes to prove to you why you should do a certain thing, he may do so by using abstract considerations exclusively; a savage will prove the same by reminding you of a similar case in which you notoriously do as he now proposes, and this with no ability to state the point in which the cases are similar. In all primitive literature, in all savage oratory236, we find persuasion237 carried on exclusively by parables238 and similes239, and travellers in savage countries readily adopt the native custom. Take, for example, Dr. Livingstone's argument with the negro conjuror240. The missionary241 was trying to dissuade242 the savage from his fetichistic [sic] ways of invoking243 rain. "You see," said he, "that, after all your operations, sometimes it rains and sometimes it does not, exactly as when you have not operated at all." "But," replied the sorcerer, "it is just the same with you doctors; you give your remedies, and sometimes the patient gets well and sometimes he dies, just as when you do nothing at all." To that the pious244 missionary replied: "The doctor does his duty, after which God performs the cure if it pleases Him." "Well," rejoined the savage, "it is just so with me. I do what is necessary to procure245 rain, after which God sends it or withholds246 it according to His pleasure." 24
This is the stage in which proverbial philosophy reigns supreme247. "An empty sack can't stand straight" will stand for the reason why a man with debts may lose his honesty; and "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" will serve to back up one's exhortations248 to prudence249. Or we answer the question: "Why is snow white?" by saying, "For the same reason that soap-suds or whipped eggs are white" -- in other words, instead of giving the reason for a fact, we give another example of the same fact. This offering a similar instance, instead of a reason, has often been criticised as one of the forms of logical depravity in men. But manifestly it is not a perverse250 act of thought, but only an incomplete one. Furnishing parallel cases is the necessary first step towards abstracting the reason imbedded in them all.
As it is with reasons, so it is with words. The first words are probably always names of entire things and entire actions, of extensive coherent groups. A new experience in the primitive man can only be talked about by him in terms of the old experiences which have received names. It reminds him of certain ones from among them, but the points in which it agrees with them are neither named nor dissociated. Pure similarity must work before the abstraction can work which is based upon it. The first adjectives will therefore probably be total nouns embodying251 the striking character. The primeval man will say, not ‘the bread is hard,' but 'the bread is stone'; not ‘the face is round,' but 'the face is moon'; not 'the fruit is sweet,' but 'the fruit is sugar-cane.' The first words are thus neither particular nor general, but vaguely252 concrete; just as we speak of an 'oval' face, a 'velvet’ skin, or an 'iron' will, without meaning to connote any other attributes of the adjective-noun than those in which it does resemble the noun it is used to qualify. After a while certain of these adjectively-used nouns come only to signify the particular quality for whose sake they are oftenest used; the entire thing which they originally meant receives another name, and they become true abstract and general terms. Oval, for example, with us suggests only shape. The first abstract qualities thus formed are, no doubt, qualities of one and the same sense found indifferent objects --as big, sweet; next analogies between different senses, as 'sharp' of taste, 'high’ of sound, etc.; then analogies of motor combinations, or form of relation, as simple, confused, difficult, reciprocal, relative, spontaneous, etc. The extreme degree of subtlety253 in analogy is reached in such cases as when we say certain English art critics' writing reminds us of a close room in which pastilles have been burning, or that the mind of certain Frenchmen is like old Roquefort cheese. Here language utterly254 fails to hit upon the basis of resemblance.
Over immense departments of our thought we are still, all of us, in the savage state. Similarity operates in us, but abstraction has not taken place. We know what the present case is like, we know what it reminds us of, we have an intuition of the right course to take, if it be a practical matter. But analytic thought has made no tracks, and we cannot justify255 ourselves to others. In ethical256, psychological, and æsthetic matters, to give a clear reason for one's judgment is universally recognized as a mark of rare genius. The helplessness of uneducated people to account for their likes and dislikes is often ludicrous. Ask the first Irish girl why she likes this country better or worse than her home, and see how much she can tell you. But if you ask your most educated friend why he prefers Titian to Paul Veronese, you will hardly get more of a reply; and you will probably get absolutely none if you inquire why Beethoven reminds him of Michael Angelo, or how it comes that a bare figure with unduly257 flexed258 joints259, by the former, can so suggest the moral tragedy of life. His thought obeys a nexus260, but cannot name it. And so it is with all those judgments261 of experts, which even though unnoticed are so valuable. Saturated262 with experience of a particular class of materials, an expert intuitively feels whether a newly-reported fact is probable or not, whether a proposed hypothesis is worthless or the reverse. He instinctively knows that, in a novel case, this and not that mill be the promising263 course of action. The well-known story of the old judge advising the new one never to give reasons for his decisions, "the decisions will probably be right, the reasons will surely be wrong," illustrates this. The doctor will feel that the patient is doomed264, the dentist will have a premonition that the tooth will break, though neither can articulate a reason for his foreboding. The reason lies imbedded, but not yet laid bare, in all the countless previous cases dimly suggested by the actual one, all calling up the same conclusion, which the adept265 thus finds himself swept on to, he knows not how or why.
A physiological266 conclusion remains to be drawn . If the principles laid down in Chapter XIV are true, then it follows that the great cerebral267 difference between habitual and reasoned thinking must be this: that in the former an entire system of cells vibrating at any one moment discharges in its totality into another entire system, and that the order of the discharges tends to be a constant one in time; whilst in the latter a part of the prior system still keeps vibrating in the midst of the subsequent system, and the order -- which part this shall be, and what shall be its concomitants in the subsequent system -- has little tendency to fixedness268 in time. This physical selection, so to call it, of one part to vibrate persistently271 whilst the others rise and subside272, we found, in the chapter in question, to be the basis of similar association, (See especially pp. 578-81.) It would seem to be but a minor degree of that still more urgent and importunate273 localized vibration274 which we can easiest conceive to underlie275 the mental fact of interest, attention, or dissociation. In terms of the brain-process, then, all these mental facts resolve themselves into a single peculiarity: that of indeterminateness of connection between the different tracts116, and tendency of action to focalize itself, so to speak, in small localities which vary infinitely276 at different times, and from which irradiation may proceed in countless shifting ways. (Compare figure 80, p. 347.) To discover, or (what more benefits the present stage of nerve-physiology) to adumbrate277 by some possible guess, on what chemical or molecular-mechanical fact this instable equilibrium278 of the human brain may depend, should be the next task of the physiologist279 who ponders over the passage from brute to man. Whatever the physical peculiarity in question may be, it is the cause why a man, whose brain has it, reasons so much, whilst his horse, whose brain lacks it, reasons so little. We can but bequeath the problem to abler hands than our own.
But, meanwhile, this mode of stating the matter suggests a couple of other inferences. The first is brief. If focalization of brain-activity be the fundamental fact of reasonable thought, we see why intense interest or concentrated passion makes us think so much more truly and profoundly. The persistent270 focalization of motion in certain tracts is the cerebral fact corresponding to the persistent domination inconsciousness of the important feature of the subject. When not 'focalized,' we are scatter-brained; but when thoroughly impassioned, we never wander from the point. None but congruous and relevant images arise. When roused by indignation or moral enthusiasm, how trenchant280 are our emotions, how smiting281 are our words! The whole network of petty scruples282 and by-considerations which, at ordinary languid times, surrounded the matter like a cob-web, holding back our thought, as Gulliver was pinned to the earth by the myriad283 Lilliputian threads, are dashed through at a blow, and the subject stands with its essential and vital lines revealed.
The last point is relative to the theory that what was acquired habit in the ancestor may become congenital tendency in the offspring. So vast a superstructure is raised upon this principle that the paucity284 of empirical evidence for it has alike been matter of regret to its adherents285, and of triumph to its opponents. In Chapter XXVIII we shall see what we may call the whole beggarly array of proof. In the human race, where our opportunities for observation are the most complete, we seem to have no evidence whatever which would support the hypothesis, unless it possibly be the law that; city-bred children are more apt to be near-sighted than country children. In the mental world we certainly do not observe that the children of great travellers get their geography lessons with unusual ease, or that a baby whose ancestors have spoken German for thirty generations will, on that account, learn Italian any the less easily from its Italian nurse. But If the considerations we have been led to are true, they explain perfectly well why this law should not be verified in the human race, and why, therefore, in looking for evidence on the subject, we should confine ourselves exclusively to lower animals. In them fixed269 habit is the essential and characteristic law of nervous action. The brain grows to the exact modes in which it has been exercised, and the inheritance of these modes -- then called instincts -- would have in it nothing surprising. But in man the negation286 of all fixed modes is the essential characteristic. He owes his whole pre-eminence as a reasoner, his whole human quality of intellect, we may say, to the facility with which a given mode of thought in him may suddenly be broken up into elements, which recombine anew. Only at the price of inheriting no settled instinctive tendencies is he able to settle every novel case by the fresh discovery by his reason of novel principles. He is, par21 excellence287, the educable animal. If, then, the law that habits are inherited were found exemplified in him, he would, in so far forth, fall short of his human perfections; and, when we survey the human races, we actually do find that those which are most instinctive at the outset are those which, on the whole, are least educated in the end. An untutored Italian is, to a great extent, a man of the world; he has instinctive perceptions, tendencies to behavior, reactions, in a word, upon his environment, which the untutored German wholly lacks. If the latter be not drilled, he is apt to be a thoroughly loutish288 personage; but, on the other hand, the mere absence in his brain of definite innate289 tendencies enables him to advance by the development, through education, of his purely reasoned thinking, into complex regions of consciousness that the Italian may probably never approach.
We observe an identical difference between men as a whole and women as a whole. A young woman of twenty reacts with intuitive promptitude and security in all the usual circumstances in which she may be placed. 25 Her likes and dislikes are formed; her opinions, to a great extent, the same that they will be through life. Her character is, in fact, finished in its essentials. How inferior to her is a boy of twenty in all these respects! His character is still gelatinous, uncertain what shape to assume, 'trying it on' in every direction. Feeling his power, yet ignorant of the manner in which he shall express it, he is, when compared with his sister, a being of no definite contour. But this absence of prompt tendency in his brain to set into particular modes is the very condition which insures that it shall ultimately become so much more efficient than the woman's. The very lack of preappointed trains of thought is the ground on which general principles and heads of classification grow up; and the masculine brain deals with new end complex matter indirectly290 by means of these, in a manner which the feminine method of direct intuition, admirably and rapidly as it performs within its limits, can vainly hope to core with.
In looking back over the subject of reasoning, one feel show intimately connected it is with conception; and one realizes more than ever the deep reach of that principle of selection on which so much stress was laid towards the close of Chapter IX. As the art of reading (after a certain stage in one's education) is the art of skipping, so the art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. The first effect on the mind of growing cultivated is that processes once multiple get to be performed by a single act. Lazarus has called this the progressive 'condensation291' of thought. But in the psychological sense it is less a condensation than a loss, a genuine dropping out and throwing overboard of conscious content. Steps really sink from sight. An advanced thinker sees the relations of his topics in such masses and so instantaneously that when he comes to explain to younger minds it is often hard to say which grows the more perplexed292, he or the pupil. In every university there are admirable investigators293 who are notoriously bad lecturers. The reason is that they never spontaneously see the subject in the minute articulate way in which the student needs to have it offered to his slow reception. They grope for the links, but the links do not come. Bowditch, who translated and annotated294 Laplace's Mécanique Céleste, said that whenever his author prefaced a proposition by the words 'it is evident,' he knew that many hours of hard study lay before him.
When two minds of a high order, interested in kindred subjects, come together, their conversation is chiefly remarkable for the summariness of its allusions295 and the rapidity of its transitions. Before one of them is half through a sentence the other knows his meaning and replies. Such genial296 play with such massive materials, such an easy hashing of light over far perspectives, such careless indifference to the dust and apparatus297 that ordinarily surround the subject and seem to pertain298 to its essence, make these conversations seem true feasts forgoes299 to a listener who is educated enough to follow them at all. His mental lungs breathe more deeply, in an atmosphere more broad and vast than is their wont300. On the other hand, the excessive explicitness301 and short-windedness of an ordinary man are as wonderful as they are tedious to the man of genius. But we need not go as far as the ways of genius. Ordinary social intercourse303 will do. There the charm of conversation is in direct proportion to the possibility of abridgment304 and elision, and in inverse305 ratio to the need of explicit302 statement. With old friends a word stands for a whole story or set of opinions. With new-comers everything must be gone over in detail. Some persons have a real mania306 for completeness, they must express every step. They are the most intolerable of companions, and although their mental energy may in its way be great, they always strike us as weak and second-rate. In short, the essence of plebeianism, that which separates vulgarity from aristocracy, is perhaps less a defect than an excess, the constant need to animadvert upon matters which for the aristocratic temperament307 do not exist. To ignore, to disdain308 to consider, to overlook, are the essence of the ‘gentleman.' Often most provokingly so; for the things ignored may be of the deepest moral consequence. But in the very midst of our indignation with the gentleman, we have a consciousness that his preposterous309 inertia310 and negativeness in the actual emergency is, somehow or other, allied311 with his general superiority to ourselves. It is not only that the gentleman ignores considerations relative to conduct, sordid312 suspicions, fears, calculations, etc., which the vulgarian is fated to entertain; it is that he is silent where the vulgarian talks; that he gives nothing but results where the vulgarian is profuse313 of reasons; that he does not explain or apologize; that he uses one sentence instead of twenty; and that, in a word, there is an amount of interstitial thinking, so to call it, which it is quite impossible to get him to perform, but which is nearly all that the vulgarian mind performs at all. All this suppression of the secondary leaves the field clear, -- for higher heights, should they choose to come. But even if they never came, what thoughts there were would still manifest the aristocratic type and wear the well-bred form. So great is our sense of harmony and ease in passing from the company of a philistine314 to that of an aristocratic temperament, that we are almost tempted315 to deem the falsest views and tastes as held by a man of the world, truer than the truest as held by a common person. In the latter the best ideas are choked, obstructed316, and contaminated by the redundancy of their paltry317 associates. The negative conditions, at least, of an atmosphere and a free outlook are present in the former. I may appear to have strayed from psychological analysis into aesthetic criticism. But the principle of selection is so important that no illustrations seem redundant318 which may help to show how great is its scope. The upshot of what I say simply is that selection implies rejection319 as well as choice; and that the function of ignoring, of inattention, is as vital a factor in mental progress as the function of attention itself.
1 brutes | |
兽( brute的名词复数 ); 畜生; 残酷无情的人; 兽性 | |
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2 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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3 irrational | |
adj.无理性的,失去理性的 | |
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4 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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5 pro | |
n.赞成,赞成的意见,赞成者 | |
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6 contiguity | |
n.邻近,接壤 | |
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7 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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8 whet | |
v.磨快,刺激 | |
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9 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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10 contiguities | |
n.接近( contiguity的名词复数 );一连串的事物;一系列;一大片 | |
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11 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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12 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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13 witty | |
adj.机智的,风趣的 | |
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14 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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15 gracefulness | |
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16 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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17 lexicon | |
n.字典,专门词汇 | |
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18 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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19 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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20 mediate | |
vi.调解,斡旋;vt.经调解解决;经斡旋促成 | |
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21 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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22 staple | |
n.主要产物,常用品,主要要素,原料,订书钉,钩环;adj.主要的,重要的;vt.分类 | |
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23 perceptive | |
adj.知觉的,有洞察力的,感知的 | |
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24 veracious | |
adj.诚实可靠的 | |
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25 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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26 discriminated | |
分别,辨别,区分( discriminate的过去式和过去分词 ); 歧视,有差别地对待 | |
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27 discriminate | |
v.区别,辨别,区分;有区别地对待 | |
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28 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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29 generic | |
adj.一般的,普通的,共有的 | |
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30 analyzed | |
v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 );分解;解释;对…进行心理分析 | |
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31 analyze | |
vt.分析,解析 (=analyse) | |
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32 intentionally | |
ad.故意地,有意地 | |
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33 sifting | |
n.筛,过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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34 mediately | |
在中间,间接 | |
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35 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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36 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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37 thicket | |
n.灌木丛,树林 | |
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38 scout | |
n.童子军,侦察员;v.侦察,搜索 | |
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39 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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40 locomotion | |
n.运动,移动 | |
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41 inhibit | |
vt.阻止,妨碍,抑制 | |
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42 distinctively | |
adv.特殊地,区别地 | |
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43 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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44 datum | |
n.资料;数据;已知数 | |
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45 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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46 evoked | |
[医]诱发的 | |
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47 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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48 atone | |
v.赎罪,补偿 | |
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49 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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50 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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51 peculiarity | |
n.独特性,特色;特殊的东西;怪癖 | |
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52 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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53 embedded | |
a.扎牢的 | |
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54 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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55 syllogism | |
n.演绎法,三段论法 | |
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56 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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57 premise | |
n.前提;v.提论,预述 | |
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58 formulated | |
v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 );规划;确切地阐述;用公式表示 | |
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59 formulate | |
v.用公式表示;规划;设计;系统地阐述 | |
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60 infinity | |
n.无限,无穷,大量 | |
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61 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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62 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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63 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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64 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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65 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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66 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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67 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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68 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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69 combustible | |
a. 易燃的,可燃的; n. 易燃物,可燃物 | |
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70 abreast | |
adv.并排地;跟上(时代)的步伐,与…并进地 | |
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71 detriment | |
n.损害;损害物,造成损害的根源 | |
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72 disperse | |
vi.使分散;使消失;vt.分散;驱散 | |
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73 forfeit | |
vt.丧失;n.罚金,罚款,没收物 | |
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74 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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75 piecemeal | |
adj.零碎的;n.片,块;adv.逐渐地;v.弄成碎块 | |
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76 serial | |
n.连本影片,连本电视节目;adj.连续的 | |
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77 atoned | |
v.补偿,赎(罪)( atone的过去式和过去分词 );补偿,弥补,赎回 | |
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78 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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79 overflows | |
v.溢出,淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 );充满;挤满了人;扩展出界,过度延伸 | |
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80 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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81 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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82 relatively | |
adv.比较...地,相对地 | |
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83 radically | |
ad.根本地,本质地 | |
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84 teleological | |
adj.目的论的 | |
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85 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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86 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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87 appellations | |
n.名称,称号( appellation的名词复数 ) | |
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88 stereotyped | |
adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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89 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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90 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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91 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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92 revert | |
v.恢复,复归,回到 | |
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93 symbolic | |
adj.象征性的,符号的,象征主义的 | |
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94 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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95 pounce | |
n.猛扑;v.猛扑,突然袭击,欣然同意 | |
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96 subjective | |
a.主观(上)的,个人的 | |
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97 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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98 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
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99 latches | |
n.(门窗的)门闩( latch的名词复数 );碰锁v.理解( latch的第三人称单数 );纠缠;用碰锁锁上(门等);附着(在某物上) | |
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100 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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101 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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102 analyzing | |
v.分析;分析( analyze的现在分词 );分解;解释;对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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103 hindrance | |
n.妨碍,障碍 | |
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104 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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105 insufficient | |
adj.(for,of)不足的,不够的 | |
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106 friction | |
n.摩擦,摩擦力 | |
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107 tilt | |
v.(使)倾侧;(使)倾斜;n.倾侧;倾斜 | |
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108 pendulum | |
n.摆,钟摆 | |
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109 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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110 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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111 unstable | |
adj.不稳定的,易变的 | |
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112 molecules | |
分子( molecule的名词复数 ) | |
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113 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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114 recondite | |
adj.深奥的,难解的 | |
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115 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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116 tracts | |
大片土地( tract的名词复数 ); 地带; (体内的)道; (尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的)短文 | |
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117 perpendicular | |
adj.垂直的,直立的;n.垂直线,垂直的位置 | |
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118 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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119 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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120 behooves | |
n.利益,好处( behoof的名词复数 )v.适宜( behoove的第三人称单数 ) | |
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121 refractory | |
adj.倔强的,难驾驭的 | |
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122 pungent | |
adj.(气味、味道)刺激性的,辛辣的;尖锐的 | |
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123 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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124 transcend | |
vt.超出,超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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125 molecular | |
adj.分子的;克分子的 | |
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126 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
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127 botanist | |
n.植物学家 | |
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128 dissection | |
n.分析;解剖 | |
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129 caterpillar | |
n.毛虫,蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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130 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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131 layman | |
n.俗人,门外汉,凡人 | |
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132 shipwreck | |
n.船舶失事,海难 | |
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133 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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134 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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135 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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136 novice | |
adj.新手的,生手的 | |
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137 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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138 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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139 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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140 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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141 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
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142 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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143 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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144 aesthetic | |
adj.美学的,审美的,有美感 | |
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145 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
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146 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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147 diversification | |
n.变化,多样化;多种经营 | |
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148 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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149 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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150 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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151 slumbered | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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152 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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153 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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154 residues | |
n.剩余,余渣( residue的名词复数 );剩余财产;剩数 | |
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155 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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156 systematic | |
adj.有系统的,有计划的,有方法的 | |
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157 investigator | |
n.研究者,调查者,审查者 | |
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158 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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159 extricating | |
v.使摆脱困难,脱身( extricate的现在分词 ) | |
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160 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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161 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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162 scatter | |
vt.撒,驱散,散开;散布/播;vi.分散,消散 | |
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163 sledge | |
n.雪橇,大锤;v.用雪橇搬运,坐雪橇往 | |
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164 rupture | |
n.破裂;(关系的)决裂;v.(使)破裂 | |
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165 scattering | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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166 immersion | |
n.沉浸;专心 | |
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167 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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168 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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169 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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170 trotted | |
小跑,急走( trot的过去分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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171 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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172 peg | |
n.木栓,木钉;vt.用木钉钉,用短桩固定 | |
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173 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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174 skulking | |
v.潜伏,偷偷摸摸地走动,鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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175 coppers | |
铜( copper的名词复数 ); 铜币 | |
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176 canine | |
adj.犬的,犬科的 | |
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177 tugging | |
n.牵引感v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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178 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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179 stump | |
n.残株,烟蒂,讲演台;v.砍断,蹒跚而走 | |
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180 teller | |
n.银行出纳员;(选举)计票员 | |
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181 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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182 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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183 sieve | |
n.筛,滤器,漏勺 | |
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184 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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185 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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186 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
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187 reigns | |
n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 );君主统治时期;任期;当政期 | |
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188 latched | |
v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 );纠缠;用碰锁锁上(门等);附着(在某物上) | |
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189 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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190 moles | |
防波堤( mole的名词复数 ); 鼹鼠; 痣; 间谍 | |
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191 transpired | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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192 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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193 transpires | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的第三人称单数 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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194 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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195 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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196 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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197 yelps | |
n.(因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的)短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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198 yelp | |
vi.狗吠 | |
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199 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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200 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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201 manifestation | |
n.表现形式;表明;现象 | |
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202 linguistic | |
adj.语言的,语言学的 | |
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203 tranquilly | |
adv. 宁静地 | |
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204 postulates | |
v.假定,假设( postulate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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205 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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206 juxtaposition | |
n.毗邻,并置,并列 | |
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207 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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208 segregated | |
分开的; 被隔离的 | |
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209 boons | |
n.恩惠( boon的名词复数 );福利;非常有用的东西;益处 | |
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210 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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211 awakens | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的第三人称单数 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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212 ruptures | |
n.(体内组织等的)断裂( rupture的名词复数 );爆裂;疝气v.(使)破裂( rupture的第三人称单数 );(使体内组织等)断裂;使(友好关系)破裂;使绝交 | |
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213 illustrates | |
给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 ); 说明; 表明; (用示例、图画等)说明 | |
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214 merges | |
(使)混合( merge的第三人称单数 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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215 realization | |
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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216 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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217 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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218 rivalry | |
n.竞争,竞赛,对抗 | |
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219 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
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220 cognate | |
adj.同类的,同源的,同族的;n.同家族的人,同源词 | |
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221 analysts | |
分析家,化验员( analyst的名词复数 ) | |
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222 epithets | |
n.(表示性质、特征等的)词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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223 analytic | |
adj.分析的,用分析方法的 | |
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224 penury | |
n.贫穷,拮据 | |
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225 foaming | |
adj.布满泡沫的;发泡 | |
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226 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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228 thighs | |
n.股,大腿( thigh的名词复数 );食用的鸡(等的)腿 | |
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229 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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230 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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231 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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232 moor | |
n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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233 lapsed | |
adj.流失的,堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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234 abasement | |
n.滥用 | |
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235 smite | |
v.重击;彻底击败;n.打;尝试;一点儿 | |
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236 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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237 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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238 parables | |
n.(圣经中的)寓言故事( parable的名词复数 ) | |
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239 similes | |
(使用like或as等词语的)明喻( simile的名词复数 ) | |
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240 conjuror | |
n.魔术师,变戏法者 | |
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241 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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242 dissuade | |
v.劝阻,阻止 | |
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243 invoking | |
v.援引( invoke的现在分词 );行使(权利等);祈求救助;恳求 | |
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244 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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245 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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246 withholds | |
v.扣留( withhold的第三人称单数 );拒绝给予;抑制(某事物);制止 | |
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247 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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248 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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249 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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250 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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251 embodying | |
v.表现( embody的现在分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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252 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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253 subtlety | |
n.微妙,敏锐,精巧;微妙之处,细微的区别 | |
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254 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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255 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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256 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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257 unduly | |
adv.过度地,不适当地 | |
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258 flexed | |
adj.[医]曲折的,屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 );弯曲;(为准备大干而)显示实力;摩拳擦掌 | |
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259 joints | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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260 nexus | |
n.联系;关系 | |
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261 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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262 saturated | |
a.饱和的,充满的 | |
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263 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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264 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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265 adept | |
adj.老练的,精通的 | |
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266 physiological | |
adj.生理学的,生理学上的 | |
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267 cerebral | |
adj.脑的,大脑的;有智力的,理智型的 | |
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268 fixedness | |
n.固定;稳定;稳固 | |
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269 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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270 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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271 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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272 subside | |
vi.平静,平息;下沉,塌陷,沉降 | |
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273 importunate | |
adj.强求的;纠缠不休的 | |
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274 vibration | |
n.颤动,振动;摆动 | |
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275 underlie | |
v.位于...之下,成为...的基础 | |
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276 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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277 adumbrate | |
vt.画轮廓,预示 | |
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278 equilibrium | |
n.平衡,均衡,相称,均势,平静 | |
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279 physiologist | |
n.生理学家 | |
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280 trenchant | |
adj.尖刻的,清晰的 | |
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281 smiting | |
v.猛打,重击,打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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282 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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283 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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284 paucity | |
n.小量,缺乏 | |
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285 adherents | |
n.支持者,拥护者( adherent的名词复数 );党羽;徒子徒孙 | |
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286 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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287 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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288 loutish | |
adj.粗鲁的 | |
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289 innate | |
adj.天生的,固有的,天赋的 | |
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290 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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291 condensation | |
n.压缩,浓缩;凝结的水珠 | |
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292 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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293 investigators | |
n.调查者,审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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294 annotated | |
v.注解,注释( annotate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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295 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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296 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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297 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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298 pertain | |
v.(to)附属,从属;关于;有关;适合,相称 | |
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299 forgoes | |
v.没有也行,放弃( forgo的第三人称单数 ) | |
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300 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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301 explicitness | |
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302 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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303 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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304 abridgment | |
n.删节,节本 | |
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305 inverse | |
adj.相反的,倒转的,反转的;n.相反之物;v.倒转 | |
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306 mania | |
n.疯狂;躁狂症,狂热,癖好 | |
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307 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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308 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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309 preposterous | |
adj.荒谬的,可笑的 | |
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310 inertia | |
adj.惰性,惯性,懒惰,迟钝 | |
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311 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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312 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
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313 profuse | |
adj.很多的,大量的,极其丰富的 | |
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314 philistine | |
n.庸俗的人;adj.市侩的,庸俗的 | |
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315 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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316 obstructed | |
阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 ); 堵塞; 阻碍; 阻止 | |
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317 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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318 redundant | |
adj.多余的,过剩的;(食物)丰富的;被解雇的 | |
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319 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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