We are so unbrokenly accustomed to the old methods of motherhood, so convinced that all its processes are inter-relative and indispensable, and that to alter one of them is to endanger the whole relation, that we cannot conceive of any desirable change.
When definite plans for such change are suggested,—ways in which babies might be better cared for than at present,—we either deny the advantages of the change proposed or insist that these advantages can be reached under our present system. Just as in cooking we seek to train the private cook and to exalt2 and purify the private taste, so in baby-culture we seek to train the individual mother, and to call for better conditions in the private home; in both cases ignoring the relation between our general system and its particular phenomena3. Though it may be shown, with clearness, that in physical conditions the private house, as a place in which to raise children, may be improved upon, yet all the more stoutly4 do we protest that the mental life, the 271emotional life, of the home is the best possible environment for the young.
There was a time in human history when this was true. While progress derived5 its main impetus6 from the sex-passion, and the highest emotions were those that held us together in the family relation, such education and such surroundings as fostered and intensified7 these emotions were naturally the best. But in the stage into which we are now growing, when the family relation is only a part of life, and our highest duties lie between individuals in social relation, the child has new needs.
This does not mean, as the scared rush of the unreasoning mind to an immediate8 opposite would suggest, a disruption of the family circle or the destruction of the home. It does not mean the separation of mother and child,—that instant dread9 of the crude instinct of animal maternity10. But it does mean a change of basis in the family relation by the removal of its previous economic foundation, and a change of method in our child-culture. We are no more bound to maintain forever our early methods in baby-raising than we are bound to maintain them in the education of older children, or in floriculture. All human life is in its very nature open to improvement, 272and motherhood is not excepted. The relation between men and women, between husband and wife, between parent and child, changes inevitably11 with social advance; but we are loath12 to admit it. We think a change here must be wrong, because we are so convinced that the present condition is right.
On examination, however, we find that the existing relation between parents and children in the home is by no means what we unquestioningly assume. We all hold certain ideals of home life, of family life. When we see around us, or read of, scores and hundreds of cases of family unhappiness and open revolt, we lay it to the individual misbehavior of the parties concerned, and go on implicitly13 believing in the intrinsic perfection of the institution. When, on the other hand, we find people living together in this relation, in peace and love and courtesy, we do not conversely attribute this to individual superiority and virtue14; but we point to it as instancing the innate15 beauty of the relation.
To the careful sociological observer what really appears is this: when individual and racial progress was best served by the close associations of family life, people were very largely developed in capacity for family affection. They were insensitive to the essential 273limitations and incessant16 friction17 of the relation. They assented18 to the absolute authority of the head of the family and to the minor19 despotism of lower functionaries20, manifesting none of those sharply defined individual characteristics which are so inimical to the family relation.
But we have reached a stage where individual and racial progress is best served by the higher specialization of individuals and by a far wider sense of love and duty. This change renders the psychic21 condition of home life increasingly disadvantageous. We constantly hear of the inferior manners of the children of to-day, of the restlessness of the young, of the flat treason of deserting parents. It is visibly not so easy to live at home as it used to be. Our children are not more perversely22 constituted than the children of earlier ages, but the conditions in which they are reared are not suited to develope the qualities now needed in human beings.
This increasing friction between members of families should not be viewed with condemnation23 from a moral point of view, but studied with scientific interest. If our families are so relatively24 uncomfortable under present conditions, are there not conditions wherein the same families could be far more comfortable? 274No: we are afraid not. We think it is right to have things as they are, wrong to wish to change them. We think that virtue lies largely in being uncomfortable, and that there is special virtue in the existing family relation.
Virtue is a relative term. Human virtues25 change from age to age with the change in conditions. Consider the great virtue of loyalty26,—our highest name for duty. This is a quality that became valuable in human life the moment we began to do things which were not instantly and visibly profitable to ourselves. The permanent application of the individual to a task not directly attractive was an indispensable social quality, and therefore a virtue. Steadfastness27, faithfulness, loyalty, duty, that conscious, voluntary attitude of the individual which holds him to a previously28 assumed relation, even to his extreme personal injury,—to death itself,—from this results the cohesion29 of the social body: it is a first principle of social existence.
To the personal conscience a social necessity must express itself in a recognized and accepted pressure,—a force to which we bow, a duty, a virtue. So the virtue of loyalty came into early and lasting30 esteem31, whether in the form of loyalty to one’s own spoken word or vow—“He that sweareth to his hurt, 275and doeth it”—to a friend or group of friends in temporary union for some common purpose, or to a larger and more permanent relation. The highest form is, of course, loyalty to the largest common interest; and here we can plainly trace the growth of this quality.
First, we see it in the vague, nebulous, coherence32 of the horde33 of savages34, then in the tense devotion of families,—that absolute duty to the highest known social group. It was in this period that obedience36 to parents was writ37 so large in our scale of virtues. The family feud38, the vendetta39 of the Corsicans, is an over-development of this force of family devotion. Next came loyalty to the chief, passing even that due the father. And with the king—that dramatic personification of a nation, “Lo! royal England comes!”—loyalty became a very passion. It took precedence of every virtue, with good reason; for it was not, as was supposed, the person of the king which was so revered40: it was the embodied41 nation, the far-reaching, collective interests of every citizen, the common good, which called for the willing sacrifice of every individual. We still exhibit all these phases of loyalty, in differently diminishing degrees; but we show, also, a larger form of this great virtue peculiar42 to our age.
276The lines of social relation to-day are mainly industrial. Our individual lives, our social peace and progress, depend more upon our economic relations than upon any other. For a long time society was organized only on a sex-basis, a religious basis, or a military basis, each of such organizations being comparatively transient; and its component43 individuals labored45 alone on an economic basis of helpless individualism.
Duty is a social sense, and developes only with social organization. As our civil organization has become national, we have developed the sense of duty to the State. As our industrial organization has grown to the world-encircling intricacies of to-day, as we have come to hold our place on earth by reason of our vast and elaborate economic relation with its throbbing46 and sensitive machinery47 of communication and universal interservice, the unerring response of the soul to social needs has given us a new kind of loyalty,—loyalty to our work. The engineer who sticks to his engine till he dies, that his trainload of passengers may live; the cashier who submits to torture rather than disclose the secret of the safe,—these are loyal exactly as was the servitor of feudal48 times, who followed his master to the death, or the subject who gave up all 277for his king. Professional honor, duty to one’s employers, duty to the work itself, at any cost,—this is loyalty, faithfulness, the power to stay put in a relation necessary to the social good, though it may be directly against personal interest.
It is in the training of children for this stage of human life that the private home has ceased to be sufficient, or the isolated49, primitive50, dependent woman capable. Not that the mother does not have an intense and overpowering sense of loyalty and of duty; but it is duty to individuals, just as it was in the year one. What she is unable to follow, in her enforced industrial restriction51, is the higher specialization of labor44, and the honorable devotion of human lives to the development of their work. She is most slavishly bound to her daily duty, it is true; but it does not occur to her as a duty to raise the grade of her own labor for the sake of humanity, nor as a sin so to keep back the progress of the world by her contented52 immobility.
She cannot teach what she does not know. She cannot in any sincerity53 uphold as a duty what she does not practise. The child learns more of the virtues needed in modern life—of fairness, of justice, of comradeship, of collective interest and action—in a common 278school than can be taught in the most perfect family circle. We may preach to our children as we will of the great duty of loving and serving one’s neighbor; but what the baby is born into, what the child grows up to see and feel, is the concentration of one entire life—his mother’s—upon the personal aggrandizement54 of one family, and the human service of another entire life—his father’s—so warped55 and strained by the necessity of “supporting his family” that treason to society is the common price of comfort in the home. For a man to do any base, false work for which he is hired, work that injures producer and consumer alike; to prostitute what power and talent he possesses to whatever purchaser may use them,—this is justified56 among men by what they call duty to the family, and is unblamed by the moral sense of dependent women.
And this is the atmosphere in which the wholly home-bred, mother-taught child grows up. Why should not food and clothes and the comforts of his own people stand first in his young mind? Does he not see his mother, the all-loved, all-perfect one, peacefully spending her days in the arrangement of these things which his father’s ceaseless labor has procured58? Why should he not grow up to 279care for his own, to the neglect and willing injury of all the rest, when his earliest, deepest impressions are formed under such exclusive devotion?
It is not the home as a place of family life and love that injures the child, but as the centre of a tangled59 heap of industries, low in their ungraded condition, and lower still because they are wholly personal. Work the object of which is merely to serve one’s self is the lowest. Work the object of which is merely to serve one’s family is the next lowest. Work the object of which is to serve more and more people, in widening range, till it approximates the divine spirit that cares for all the world, is social service in the fullest sense, and the highest form of service that we can reach.
It is this personality in home industry that keeps it hopelessly down. The short range between effort and attainment61, the constant attention given to personal needs, is bad for the man, worse for the woman, and worst for the child. It belittles62 his impressions of life at the start. It accustoms63 him to magnify the personal duties and minify the social ones, and it greatly retards64 his adjustment to larger life. This servant-motherhood, with all its unavoidable limitation and ill results, is the 280concomitant of the economic dependence1 of woman upon man, the direct and inevitable65 effect of the sexuo-economic relation.
The child is affected66 by it during his most impressionable years, and feels the effect throughout life. The woman is permanently67 retarded68 by it; the man, less so, because of his normal social activities, wherein he is under more developing influence. But he is injured in great degree, and our whole civilization is checked and perverted69.
We suffer also, our lives long, from an intense self-consciousness, from a sensitiveness beyond all need; we demand measureless personal attention and devotion, because we have been born and reared in a very hotbed of these qualities. A baby who spent certain hours of every day among other babies, being cared for because he was a baby, and not because he was “my baby,” would grow to have a very different opinion of himself from that which is forced upon each new soul that comes among us by the ceaseless adoration70 of his own immediate family. What he needs to learn at once and for all, to learn softly and easily, but inexorably, is that he is one of many. We all dimly recognize this in our praise of large families, and in our saying that “an only child is apt to be selfish.” So 281is an only family. The earlier and more easily a child can learn that human life means many people, and their behavior to one another, the happier and stronger and more useful his life will be.
This could be taught him with no difficulty whatever, under certain conditions, just as he is taught his present sensitiveness and egotism by the present conditions. It is not only temperature and diet and rest and exercise which affect the baby. “He does love to be noticed,” we say. “He is never so happy as when he has a dozen worshippers around him.” But what is the young soul learning all the while? What does he gather, as he sees and hears and slowly absorbs impressions? With the inflexible71 inferences of a clear, young brain, unsupplied with any counter-evidence until later in life, he learns that women are meant to wait on people, to get dinner, and sweep and pick up things; that men are made to bring home things, and are to be begged of according to circumstances; that babies are the object of concentrated admiration72; that their hair, hands, feet, are specially73 attractive; that they are the heated focus of attention, to be passed from hand to hand, swung and danced and amused most violently, and also be laid aside and have nothing done to them, 282with no regard to their preference in either case.
And then, in the midst of all this tingling74 self-consciousness and desire for loving praise, he learns that he is “naughty”! The grief, the shame, the anger at injustice75, the hopeless bewilderment, the morbid76 sensitiveness of conscience or the stolid77 dulling of it, the gradual retirement78 of the baffled brain from all these premature79 sensations to a contentment with mere60 personal gratification and a growing ingenuity80 in obtaining it,—all these experiences are the common lot of the child among us, our common lot when we were children. Of course, we don’t remember. Of course, we loved our mother, and thought her perfect. Comparisons among mothers are difficult for a baby. Of course, we loved our homes, and never dreamed of any other way of being “brought up.” And, of course, when we have children of our own, we bring them up in the same way. What other way is there? What is there to be said on the subject? Children always were brought up at home. Isn’t that enough?
And yet, insidiously81, slowly, irresistibly82, while we flatter ourselves that things remain the same, they are changing under our very eyes from year to year, from day to day. 283Education, hiding itself behind a wall of books, but consisting more and more fully57 in the grouping of children and in the training of faculties83 never mentioned in the curriculum,—education, which is our human motherhood, has crept nearer and nearer to its true place, its best work,—the care and training of the little child. Some women there are, and some men, whose highest service to humanity is the care of children. Such should not concentrate their powers upon their own children alone,—a most questionable84 advantage,—but should be so placed that their talent and skill, their knowledge and experience, would benefit the largest number of children. Many women there are, and many men, who, though able to bring forth85 fine children, are unable to educate them properly. Simply to bear children is a personal matter,—an animal function. Education is collective, human, a social function.
As we now arrange life, our children must take their chances while babies, and live or die, improve or deteriorate86, according to the mother to whom they chance to be born. An inefficient87 mother does not prevent a child from having a good school education or a good college education; but the education of babyhood, the most important of all, is wholly 284in her hands. It is futile88 to say that mothers should be taught how to fulfil their duties. You cannot teach every mother to be a good school educator or a good college educator. Why should you expect every mother to be a good nursery educator? Whatever our expectations, she is not; and our mistrained babies, such of them as survive the maternal89 handling, grow to be such people as we see about us.
The growth and change in home and family life goes steadily90 on under and over and through our prejudices and convictions; and the education of the child has changed and become a social function, while we still imagine the mother to be doing it all.
In its earliest and most rudimentary manifestations91, education was but part of the individual maternal function of the female animal. But no sooner did the human mind begin to show capacity for giving and receiving its impressions through language (thus attaining92 the power of acquiring information through sources other than its own experience) than the individual mother ceased to be the sole educator. The young savage35 receives not only guidance from his anxious mother, but from the chiefs and elders of his tribe. For a long time the aged93 were considered the only 285suitable teachers, because the major part of knowledge was still derived from personal experience; and, of course, the older the person, the greater his experience, other things being equal, and they were rather equal then. This primitive notion still holds among us. People still assume superior wisdom because of superior age, putting mere number of experiences against a more essential and better arranged variety, and quite forgetting that the needed wisdom of to-day is not the accumulation of facts, but the power to think about them to some purpose.
With our increased power to preserve and transmit individual experience through literature, and to disseminate94 such information through systematic95 education, we see younger and younger people, more rich in, say, chemical or electrical experience than “the oldest inhabitant” could have been in earlier times. Therefore, the teacher of to-day is not the graybeard and beldame, but the man and woman most newly filled with the gathered experience of the world. As this change from age to youth has taken place in the teacher, it has also shown itself in the taught. Grown men frequented the academic groves96 of Greece. Youths filled the universities of the Middle Ages. Boys and, later, girls were 286given the increasing school advantages of progressive centuries.
To-day the beautiful development of the kindergarten has brought education to the nursery door. Even our purblind97 motherhood is beginning to open that door; and we have at last entered upon the study of babyhood, its needs and powers, and are seeing that education begins with life itself. It is no new and daring heresy98 to suggest that babies need better education than the individual mother now gives them. It is simply a little further extension of the steadily expanding system of human education which is coming upon us, as civilization grows. And it no more infringes99 upon the mother’s rights, the mother’s duties, the mother’s pleasures, than does the college or the school.
We think no harm of motherhood because our darlings go out each day to spend long hours in school. The mother is not held neglectful, nor the child bereft100. It is not called a “separation of mother and child.” There would be no further harm or risk or loss in a babyhood passed among such changed surroundings and skilled service as should meet its needs more perfectly101 than it is possible for the mother to meet them alone at home.
Better surroundings and care for babies, 287better education, do not mean, as some mothers may imagine, that the tiny monthling is to be taught to read, or even that it is to be exposed to cabalistical arrangements of color and form and sound which shall mysteriously force the young intelligence to flower. It would mean, mainly, a far quieter and more peaceful life than is possible for the heavily loved and violently cared for baby in the busy household; and the impressions which it did meet would be planned and maintained with an intelligent appreciation102 of its mental powers. The mother would not be excluded, but supplemented, as she is now, by the teacher and the school.
Try and imagine for yourself, if you like, a new kind of coming alive,—the mother breast and mother arms there, of course, fulfilling the service which no other, however tender, could supervene; but there would be other service also. The long, bright hours of the still widening days would find one in sunny, soft-colored rooms, or among the grass and flowers, or by the warm sand and waters. There would be about one more of one’s self, others of the same size and age, in restful, helpful companionship. A year means an enormous difference in the ages of babies. Think what a passion little children have for 288playmates of exactly their own age, because in them alone is perfect equality; and then think that the home-kept baby never has such companionship, unless, indeed, there are twins!
In this larger grouping, in full companionship, the child would unconsciously absorb the knowledge that “we” were humanity, that “we” were creatures to be so fed, so watched, so laid to sleep, so kissed and cuddled and set free to roll and play. The mother-hours would be sweetest of all, perhaps. Here would be something wholly one’s own, and the better appreciated for the contrast. But the long, steady days would bring their peaceful lessons of equality and common interest instead of the feverish103 personality of the isolated one-baby household, or the innumerable tyrannies and exactions, the forced submissions104 and exclusions105, of the nursery full of brothers and sisters of widely differing ages and powers. Mothers accustomed to consider many babies besides their own would begin, on the one hand, to learn something of mere general babyness, and so understand that stage of life far better, and, on the other, to outgrow106 the pathetic idolatry of the fabled107 crow,—to recognize a difference in babies, and so to learn a new ideal in their great work of motherhood.
289This alone is reason good for a wider maternity. As long as each mother dotes and gloats upon her own children, knowing no others, so long this animal passion overestimates108 or underestimates real human qualities in the child. So long as this endures, we must grow up with the false, unbalanced opinion of ourselves forced upon us in our infancy109. We may think too well of ourselves or we may think too ill of ourselves; but we think always too much of ourselves, because of this untrained and unmodified concentration of maternal feeling. Our whole attitude toward the child is too intensely personal. Through all our aching later life we labor to outgrow the false perspective taught by primitive motherhood.
A baby, brought up with other babies, would never have that labor or that pain. However much his mother might love him, and he might enjoy her love, he would still find that for most of the time he was treated precisely110 like other people of the same age. Such a change would not involve any greater loss to home and family life than does the school or kindergarten. It would not rob the baby of his mother nor the mother of her baby. And such a change would give the mother certain free hours as a human being, as a member 290of a civilized111 community, as an economic producer, as a growing, self-realizing individual. This freedom, growth, and power will make her a wiser, stronger, and nobler mother.
After all is said of loving gratitude112 to our unfailing mother-nurse, we must have a most exalted113 sense of our own personal importance so to canonize the service of ourselves. The mother as a social servant instead of a home servant will not lack in true mother duty. She will love her child as well, perhaps better, when she is not in hourly contact with it, when she goes from its life to her own life, and back from her own life to its life, with ever new delight and power. She can keep the deep, thrilling joy of motherhood far fresher in her heart, far more vivid and open in voice and eyes and tender hands, when the hours of individual work give her mind another channel for her own part of the day. From her work, loved and honored though it is, she will return to the home life, the child life, with an eager, ceaseless pleasure, cleansed114 of all the fret115 and friction and weariness that so mar116 it now.
The child, also, will feel this beneficent effect. It is a mistake to suppose that the baby, more than the older child, needs the direct care and presence of the mother. Careful 291experiment has shown that a new-born baby does not know its own mother, and that a new-made mother does not know her own baby. They have been changed without the faintest recognition on either side.
The services of a foster-mother, a nurse, a grandma, are often liked by a baby as well as, and perhaps better than, those of its own mother. The mere bodily care of a young infant is as well given by one wise, loving hand as another. It is that trained hand that the baby needs, not mere blood-relationship. While the mother keeps her beautiful prerogative117 of nursing, she need never fear that any other will be dearer to the little heart than she who is the blessed provider of his highest known good. A healthy, happy, rightly occupied motherhood should be able to keep up this function longer than is now customary,—to the child’s great gain. Aside from this special relationship, however, the baby would grow easily into the sense of other and wider relationship.
In the freedom and peace of his baby bedroom and baby parlor118, in his easy association with others of his own age, he would absorb a sense of right human relation with his mother’s milk, as it were,—a sense of others’ rights and of his own. Instead of finding life 292a place in which all the fun was in being carried round and “done to” by others, and a place also in which these others were a tyranny and a weariness unutterable; he would find life a place in which to spread out, unhindered, getting acquainted with his own unfolding powers of body and mind in an atmosphere of physical warmth and ease and of quiet peace of mind.
Direct, concentrated, unvarying personal love is too hot an atmosphere for a young soul. Variations of loneliness, anger, and injustice, are not changes to be desired. A steady, diffused119 love, lighted with wisdom, based always on justice, and varied120 with rapturous draughts121 of our own mother’s depth of devotion, would make us into a new people in a few generations. The bent122 and reach of our whole lives are largely modified by the surroundings of infancy; and those surroundings are capable of betterment, though not to be attained123 by the individual mother in the individual home.
There are three reasons why the individual mother can never be fit to take all the care of her children. The first two are so commonly true as to have much weight, the last so absolutely and finally true as to be sufficient in itself alone.
293First, not every woman is born with the special qualities and powers needed to take right care of children: she has not the talent for it. Second, not every woman can have the instruction and training needed to fit her for the right care of children: she has not the education for it. Third, while each woman takes all the care of her own children herself, no woman can ever have the requisite124 experience for it. That is the final bar. That is what keeps back our human motherhood. No mother knows more than her mother knew: no mother has ever learned her business; and our children pass under the well-meaning experiments of an endless succession of amateurs.
We try to get “an experienced nurse.” We insist on “an experienced physician.” But our idea of an experienced mother is simply one who has borne many children, as if parturition125 was an educative process!
To experience the pangs126 of child-birth, or the further pangs of a baby’s funeral, adds nothing whatever to the mother’s knowledge of the proper care, clothing, feeding, and teaching of the child. The educative department of maternity is not a personal function: it is in its very nature a social function; and we fail grievously in its fulfilment.
The economically independent mother, widened 294and freed, strengthened and developed, by her social service, will do better service as mother than it has been possible to her before. No one thing could do more to advance the interests of humanity than the wiser care and wider love of organized human motherhood around our babies. This nobler mother, bearing nobler children, and rearing them in nobler ways, would go far toward making possible the world which we want to see. And this change is coming upon us overpoweringly in spite of our foolish fears.
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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derived
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| 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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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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maternity
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| n.母性，母道，妇产科病房；adj.孕妇的，母性的 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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friction
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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functionaries
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| n.公职人员，官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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perversely
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condemnation
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relatively
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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loyalty
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steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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28
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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cohesion
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| n.团结，凝结力 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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31
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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32
coherence
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| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
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33
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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34
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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35
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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36
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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37
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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38
feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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39
vendetta
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| n.世仇，宿怨 | |
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40
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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42
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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43
component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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44
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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45
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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46
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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47
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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48
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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49
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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50
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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51
restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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52
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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53
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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54
aggrandizement
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| n.增大，强化，扩大 | |
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55
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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56
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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57
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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58
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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61
attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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62
belittles
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| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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accustoms
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| v.（使）习惯于( accustom的第三人称单数 ) | |
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retards
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| 使减速( retard的第三人称单数 )； 妨碍； 阻止； 推迟 | |
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65
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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68
retarded
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| a.智力迟钝的，智力发育迟缓的 | |
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perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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70
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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71
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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72
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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73
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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74
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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75
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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76
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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77
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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78
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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79
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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80
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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81
insidiously
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| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
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82
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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83
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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84
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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85
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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86
deteriorate
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| v.变坏；恶化；退化 | |
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87
inefficient
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| adj.效率低的，无效的 | |
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88
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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89
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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90
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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91
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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92
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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93
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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94
disseminate
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| v.散布；传播 | |
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95
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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96
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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97
purblind
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| adj.半盲的；愚笨的 | |
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98
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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99
infringes
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的第三人称单数 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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101
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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102
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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103
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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104
submissions
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| n.提交( submission的名词复数 )；屈从；归顺；向法官或陪审团提出的意见或论据 | |
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105
exclusions
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| n.不包括的项目：如接受服务项目是由投保以前已患有的疾病或伤害引致的，保险公司有权拒绝支付。；拒绝( exclusion的名词复数 )；排除；被排斥在外的人（或事物）；排外主义 | |
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106
outgrow
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| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
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107
fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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108
overestimates
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| 对（数量）估计过高，对…作过高的评价( overestimate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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109
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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110
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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111
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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112
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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113
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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114
cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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116
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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117
prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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118
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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119
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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120
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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121
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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122
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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123
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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124
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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125
parturition
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| n.生产，分娩 | |
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126
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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