A democratic republic subsists2 in the United States; and the principal object of this book has been to account for the fact of its existence. Several of the causes which contribute to maintain the institutions of America have been voluntarily passed by, or only hinted at, as I was borne along by my subject. Others I have been unable to discuss and those on which I have dwelt most, are, as it were, buried in the details of the former part of this work.
I think, therefore, that before I proceed to speak of the future, I cannot do better than collect within a small compass the reasons which best explain the present. In this retrospective chapter I shall be succinct3; for I shall take care to remind the reader very summarily of what he already knows; and I shall only select the most prominent of those facts which I have not yet pointed5 out.
All the causes which contribute to the maintenance of the democratic republic in the United States are reducible to three heads:
II. The laws.
III. The manners and customs of the people.
ACCIDENTAL OR PROVIDENTIAL CAUSES WHICH CONTRIBUTE TO THE MAINTENANCE OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC IN THE UNITED STATES.
The union has no Neighbors.—No Metropolis8.—The Americans have had the Chances of Birth in their favor.—America an empty country.—How this circumstance contributes powerfully to the Maintenance of the democratic Republic in America.—How the American Wilds are Peopled.—Avidity of the Anglo-Americans in taking Possession of the Solitudes10 of the New World.—Influence of physical Prosperity upon the political Opinions of the Americans.
A thousand circumstances, independent of the will of man, concur13 to facilitate the maintenance of a democratic republic in the United States. Some of these peculiarities14 are known, the others may easily be pointed out; but I shall confine myself to the most prominent among them.
The Americans have no neighbors, and consequently they have no great wars, or financial crises, or inroads, or conquests to dread15; they require neither great taxes, nor great armies, nor great generals; and they have nothing to fear from a scourge17 which is more formidable to republics than all these evils combined, namely, military glory. It is impossible to deny the inconceivable influence which military glory exercises upon the spirit of a nation. General Jackson, whom the Americans have twice elected to be the head of their government, is a man of violent temper and mediocre18 talents; no one circumstance in the whole course of his career ever proved that he is qualified19 to govern a free people; and indeed the majority of the enlightened classes of the union has always been opposed to him. But he was raised to the presidency20, and has been maintained in that lofty station, solely21 by the recollection of a victory which he gained, twenty years ago, under the walls of New Orleans; a victory which was, however, a very ordinary achievement, and which could only be remembered in a country where battles are rare. Now the people who are thus carried away by the illusions of glory, are unquestionably the most cold and calculating, the most unmilitary (if I may use the expression), and the most prosaic22 of all the peoples of the earth.
America has no great capital city,{199} whose influence is directly or indirectly23 felt over the whole extent of the country, which I hold to be one of the first causes of the maintenance of republican institutions in the United States. In cities, men cannot be prevented from concerting together, and from awakening24 a mutual25 excitement which prompts sudden and passionate26 resolutions. Cities may be looked upon as large assemblies, of which all the inhabitants are members; their populace exercises a prodigious27 influence upon the magistrates28, and frequently executes its own wishes without their intervention29.
To subject the provinces to the metropolis, is therefore not only to place the destiny of the empire in the hands of a portion of the community, which may be reprobated as unjust, but to place it in the hands of a populace acting31 under its own impulses, which must be avoided as dangerous. The preponderance of capital cities is therefore a serious blow upon the representative system; and it exposes modern republics to the same defect as the republics of antiquity32, which all perished from not being acquainted with that system.
It would be easy for me to adduce a great number of secondary causes which have contributed to establish, and which concur to maintain, the democratic republic of the United States. But I discern two principal circumstances among these favorable elements, which I hasten to point out. I have already observed that the origin of the American settlements may be looked upon as the first and most efficacious cause to which the present prosperity of the United States may be attributed. The Americans had the chances of birth in their favor; and their forefathers33 imported that equality of conditions into the country, whence the democratic republic has very naturally taken its rise. Nor was this all they did; for besides this republican condition of society, the early settlers bequeathed to their descendants those customs, manners, and opinions, which contribute most to the success of a republican form of government. When I reflect upon the consequences of this primary circumstance, methinks I see the destiny of America embodied35 in the first puritan who landed on those shores, just as the human race was represented by the first man.
The chief circumstance which has favored the establishment and the maintenance of a democratic republic in the United States, is the nature of the territory which the Americans inhabit. Their ancestors gave them the love of equality and of freedom: but God himself gave them the means of remaining equal and free, by placing them upon a boundless36 continent, which is open to their exertions37. General prosperity is favorable to the stability of all governments, but more particularly of a democratic constitution, which depends upon the disposition38 of the majority, and more particularly of that portion of the community which is most exposed to feel the pressure of want. When the people rules, it must be rendered happy, or it will overturn the state: and misery39 is apt to stimulate40 it to those excesses to which ambition rouses kings. The physical causes, independent of the laws, which contribute to promote general prosperity, are more numerous in America than they have ever been in any other country in the world, at any other period of history. In the United States, not only is legislation democratic, but nature herself favors the cause of the people.
In what part of human tradition can be found anything at all similar to that which is occurring under our eyes in North America? The celebrated41 communities of antiquity were all founded in the midst of hostile nations, which they were obliged to subjugate42 before they could flourish in their place. Even the moderns have found, in some parts of South America, vast regions inhabited by a people of inferior civilisation43, but which occupied and cultivated the soil. To found their new states, it was necessary to extirpate44 or to subdue45 a numerous population, until civilisation has been made to blush for their success. But North America was only inhabited by wandering tribes, who took no thought of the natural riches of the soil: and that vast country was still, properly speaking, an empty continent, a desert land awaiting its inhabitants.
Everything is extraordinary in America, the social condition of the inhabitants, as well as the laws; but the soil upon which these institutions are founded is more extraordinary than all the rest. When man was first placed upon the earth by the Creator, that earth was inexhaustible in its youth; but man was weak and ignorant: and when he had learned to explore the treasures which it contained, hosts of his fellow-creatures covered its surface, and he was obliged to earn an asylum46 for repose47 and for freedom by the sword. At that same period North America was discovered, as if it had been kept in reserve by the Deity48, and had just risen from beneath the waters of the deluge49.
That continent still presents, as it did in the primeval time, rivers which rise from never-failing sources, green and moist solitudes, and fields which the ploughshare of the husbandman has never turned. In this state it is offered to man, not in the barbarous and isolated50 condition of the early ages, but to a being who is already in possession of the most potent51 secrets of the natural world, who is united to his fellow-men, and instructed by the experience of fifty centuries. At this very time thirteen millions of civilized52 Europeans are peaceably spreading over those fertile plains, with whose resources and whose extent they are not yet accurately53 acquainted. Three or four thousand soldiers drive the wandering races of the aborigines before them; these are followed by the pioneers, who pierce the woods, scare off the beasts of prey54, explore the courses of the inland streams, and make ready the triumphal procession of civilisation across the waste.
The favorable influence of the temporal prosperity of America upon the institutions of that country has been so often described by others, and adverted55 to by myself, that I shall not enlarge upon it beyond the addition of a few facts. An erroneous notion is generally entertained, that the deserts of America are peopled by European emigrants57, who annually58 disembark upon the coasts of the New World, while the American population increases and multiplies upon the soil which its forefathers tilled. The European settler, however, usually arrives in the United States without friends, and sometimes without resources; in order to subsist1 he is obliged to work for hire, and he rarely proceeds beyond that belt of industrious59 population which adjoins the ocean. The desert cannot be explored without capital or credit, and the body must be accustomed to the rigors61 of a new climate before it can be exposed to the chances of forest life. It is the Americans themselves who daily quit the spots which gave them birth, to acquire extensive domains62 in a remote country. Thus the European leaves his country for the transatlantic shores; and the American, who is born on that very coast, plunges63 into the wilds of central America. This double emigration is incessant65: it begins in the remotest parts of Europe, it crosses the Atlantic ocean, and it advances over the solitudes of the New World. Millions of men are marching at once toward the same horizon; their language, their religion, their manners differ, their object is the same. The gifts of fortune are promised in the west, and to the west they bend their course.
No event can be compared with this continuous removal of the human race, except perhaps those irruptions which preceded the fall of the Roman Empire. Then, as well as now, generations of men were impelled66 forward in the same direction to meet and struggle on the same spot; but the designs of Providence were not the same; then, every new comer was the harbinger of destruction and of death; now, every adventurer brings with him the elements of prosperity and of life. The future still conceals68 from us the ulterior consequences of this emigration of the American toward the west; but we can hardly apprehend69 its more immediate70 results. As a portion of the inhabitants annually leave the states in which they were born, the population of these states increases very slowly, although they have long been established: thus in Connecticut, which only contains 59 inhabitants to the square mile, the population has not been increased by more than one quarter in forty years, while that of England has been augmented71 by one third in the lapse72 of the same period. The European emigrant56 always lands, therefore, in a country which is but half full, and where hands are in request: he becomes a workman in easy circumstances; his son goes to seek his fortune in unpeopled regions, and he becomes a rich landowner. The former amasses73 the capital which the latter invests, and the stranger as well as the native is unacquainted with want.
The laws of the United States are extremely favorable to the division of property; but a cause which is more powerful than the laws prevents property from being divided to excess.{200} This is very perceptible in the states which are beginning to be thickly peopled; Massachusetts is the most populous74 part of the union, but it contains only 80 inhabitants to the square mile, which is much less than in France, where 162 are reckoned to the same extent of country. But in Massachusetts estates are very rarely divided; the eldest75 son takes the land, and the others go to seek their fortune in the desert. The law has abolished the right of primogeniture, but circumstances have concurred76 to re-establish it under a form of which none can complain, and by which no just rights are impaired77.
A single fact will suffice to show the prodigious number of individuals who leave New England, in this manner, to settle themselves in the wilds. We were assured in 1830, that thirty-six of the members of congress were born in the little state of Connecticut. The population of Connecticut, which constitutes only one forty-third part of that of the United States, thus furnished one-eighth of the whole body of representatives. The state of Connecticut, however, only sends five delegates to congress; and the thirty-one others sit for the new western states. If these thirty-one individuals had remained in Connecticut, it is probable that instead of becoming rich landowners they would have remained humble78 laborers79, that they would have lived in obscurity without being able to rise into public life, and that, far from becoming useful members of the legislature, they might have been unruly citizens.
These reflections do not escape the observation of the Americans any more than of ourselves. "It cannot be doubted," says Chancellor81 Kent in his Treatise82 on American Law, "that the division of landed estates must produce great evils when it is carried to such excess that each parcel of land is insufficient83 to support a family; but these disadvantages have never been felt in the United States, and many generations must elapse before they can be felt. The extent of our inhabited territory, the abundance of adjacent land, and the continual stream of emigration flowing from the shores of the Atlantic toward the interior of the country, suffice as yet, and will long suffice, to prevent the parcelling out of estates."
It is difficult to describe the rapacity84 with which the American rushes forward to secure the immense booty which fortune proffers85 to him. In the pursuit he fearlessly braves the arrow of the Indian and the distempers of the forest; he is unimpressed by the silence of the woods; the approach of beasts of prey does not disturb him; for he is goaded87 onward88 by a passion more intense than the love of life. Before him lies a boundless continent, and he urges onward as if time pressed, and he was afraid of finding no room for his exertions. I have spoken of the emigration from the older states, but how shall I describe that which takes place from the more recent ones? Fifty years have scarcely elapsed since that of Ohio was founded; the greater part of its inhabitants were not born within its confines; its capital has only been built thirty years, and its territory is still covered by an immense extent of uncultivated fields; nevertheless, the population of Ohio is already proceeding90 westward91, and most of the settlers who descend34 to the fertile savannahs of Illinois are citizens of Ohio. These men left their first country to improve their condition; they quit their resting-place to meliorate it still more; fortune awaits them everywhere, but happiness they cannot attain92. The desire of prosperity has become an ardent93 and restless passion in their minds, which grows by what it gains. They early broke the ties which bound them to their natal94 earth, and they have contracted no fresh ones on their way. Emigration was at first necessary to them as a means of subsistence; and it soon becomes a sort of game of chance, which they pursue for the emotions it excites, as much as for the gain it procures95.
Sometimes the progress of man is so rapid that the desert reappears behind him. The woods stoop to give him a passage, and spring up again when he has passed. It is not uncommon96 in crossing the new states of the west to meet with deserted97 dwellings99 in the midst of the wilds; the traveller frequently discovers the vestiges100 of a log-house in the most solitary102 retreats, which bear witness to the power, and no less to the inconstancy of man. In these abandoned fields, and over those ruins of a day, the primeval forest soon scatters103 a fresh vegetation; the beasts resume the haunts which were once their own; and nature covers the traces of man's path with branches and with flowers, which obliterate105 his evanescent track.
I remember that in crossing one of the woodland districts which still cover the state of New York, I reached the shore of a lake, which was embosomed with forests coeval107 with the world. A small island, covered with woods, whose thick foliage108 concealed109 its banks, rose from the centre of the waters. Upon the shores of the lake no object attested110 the presence of man, except a column of smoke which might be seen on the horizon rising from the tops of the trees to the clouds, and seeming to hang from heaven rather than to be mounting to the sky. An Indian shallop was hauled up on the sand, which tempted111 me to visit the islet that had at first attracted my attention, and in a few minutes I set foot upon its banks. The whole island formed one of those delicious solitudes of the New World, which almost lead civilized man to regret the haunts of the savage113. A luxuriant vegetation bore witness to the incomparable fruitfulness of the soil. The deep silence, which is common to the wilds of North America, was only broken by the hoarse114 cooing of the wood-pigeon and the tapping of the woodpecker upon the bark of trees. I was far from supposing that this spot had ever been inhabited, so completely did nature seem to be left to her own caprices; but when I reached the centre of the isle112 I thought that I discovered some traces of man. I then proceeded to examine the surrounding objects with care, and I soon perceived that an European had undoubtedly115 been led to seek a refuge in this retreat. Yet what changes had taken place in the scene of his labors116! The logs which he had hastily hewn to build himself a shed had sprouted117 afresh; the very props118 were intertwined with living verdure, and his cabin was transformed into a bower119. In the midst of these shrubs120 a few stones were to be seen, blackened with fire and sprinkled with thin ashes; here the hearth121 had no doubt been, and the chimney in falling had covered it with rubbish. I stood for some time in silent admiration122 of the exuberance123 of nature and the littleness of man; and when I was obliged to leave that enchanting124 solitude11, I exclaimed with melancholy125, "Are ruins, then, already here?"
In Europe we are wont126 to look upon a restless disposition, an unbounded desire of riches, and an excessive love of independence, as propensities127 very formidable to society. Yet these are the very elements which ensure a long and peaceful duration to the republics of America. Without these unquiet passions the population would collect in certain spots, and would soon be subject to wants like those of the Old World, which it is difficult to satisfy; for such is the present good fortune of the New World, that the vices128 of its inhabitants are scarcely less favorable to society than their virtues130. These circumstances exercise a great influence on the estimation in which human actions are held in the two hemispheres. The Americans frequently term what we should call cupidity131 a laudable industry; and they blame as faint-heartedness what we consider to be the virtue129 of moderate desires.
In France simple tastes, orderly manners, domestic affections, and the attachment132 which men feel to the place of their birth, are looked upon as great guarantees of the tranquillity134 and happiness of the state. But in America nothing seems to be more prejudicial to society than these virtues. The French Canadians, who have faithfully preserved the traditions of their pristine136 manners, are already embarrassed for room upon their small territory; and this little community, which has so recently begun to exist, will shortly be a prey to the calamities137 incident to old nations. In Canada the most enlightened, patriotic138, and humane139 inhabitants, make extraordinary efforts to render the people dissatisfied with those simple enjoyments140 which still content it. There the seductions of wealth are vaunted with as much zeal141, as the charms of an honest but limited income in the Old World: and more exertions are made to excite the passions of the citizens there than to calm them elsewhere. If we listen to the eulogies142, we shall hear that nothing is more praiseworthy than to exchange the pure and homely144 pleasures which even the poor man tastes in his own country, for the dull delights of prosperity under a foreign sky; to leave the patrimonial145 hearth, and the turf beneath which his forefathers sleep; in short, to abandon the living and the dead in quest of fortune.
At the present time America presents a field for human effort, far more extensive than any sum of labor80 which can be applied146 to work it. In America, too much knowledge cannot be diffused147; for all knowledge, while it may serve him who possesses it, turns also to the advantage of those who are without it. New wants are not to be feared, since they can be satisfied without difficulty; the growth of human passions need not be dreaded148, since all passions may find an easy and a legitimate149 object: nor can men be put in possession of too much freedom, since they are scarcely ever tempted to misuse150 their liberties.
The American republics of the present day are like companies of adventurers, formed to explore in common the waste lands of the New World, and busied in a flourishing trade. The passions which agitate151 the Americans most deeply, are not their political, but their commercial passions; or, to speak more correctly, they introduce the habits they contract in business into their political life. They love order, without which affairs do not prosper12; and they set an especial value upon a regular conduct, which is the foundation of a solid business; they prefer the good sense which amasses large fortunes, to that enterprising spirit which frequently dissipates them; general ideas alarm their minds, which are accustomed to positive calculations; and they hold practice in more honor than theory.
It is in America that one learns to understand the influence which physical prosperity exercises over political actions, and even over opinions which ought to acknowledge no sway but that of reason; and it is more especially among strangers that this truth is perceptible. Most of the European emigrants to the New World carry with them that wild love of independence and of change, which our calamities are apt to engender152. I sometimes met with Europeans, in the United States, who had been obliged to leave their own country on account of their political opinions. They all astonished me by the language they held; but one of them surprised me more than all the rest. As I was crossing one of the most remote districts of Pennsylvania, I was benighted153, and obliged to beg for hospitality at the gate of a wealthy planter, who was a Frenchman by birth. He bade me sit down beside his fire, and we began to talk with that freedom which befits persons who meet in the backwoods, two thousand leagues from their native country. I was aware that my host had been a great leveller and an ardent demagogue, forty years ago, and that his name was not unknown to fame. I was therefore not a little surprised to hear him discuss the rights of property as an economist154 or a landowner might have done: he spoke89 of the necessary gradations which fortune established among men, of obedience155 to established laws, of the influence of good morals in commonwealths156, and of the support which religious opinions give to order and to freedom; he even went so far as to quote an evangelical authority in corroboration157 of one of his political tenets.
I listened, and marvelled158 at the feebleness of human reason. A proposition is true or false, but no art can prove it to be one or the other, in the midst of the uncertainties159 of science and the conflicting lessons of experience, until a new incident disperses160 the clouds of doubt; I was poor, I become rich; and I am not to expect that prosperity will act upon my conduct, and leave my judgment162 free: my opinions change with my fortune, and the happy circumstances which I turn to my advantage, furnish me with that decisive argument which was before wanting.
{The sentence beginning "I was poor, I become rich," &c, struck the editor, on perusal163, as obscure, if not contradictory164. The original seems more explicit165, and justice to the author seems to require that it should be presented to the reader. "J'étais pauvre, me voici riche; du moins, si le bien-être, en agissant sur ma conduite, laissait mon jugement en liberté! Mais non, mes opinions sont en effet changées avec ma fortune, et, dans l'événement heureux dont je profite, j'ai réellement découvert la raison déterminante qui jusque-là m'avait manqué."—American Editor.}
The influence of prosperity acts still more freely upon the American than upon strangers. The American has always seen the connexion of public order and public prosperity, intimately united as they are, go on before his eyes; he does not conceive that one can subsist without the other; he has therefore nothing to forget: nor has he, like so many Europeans, to unlearn the lessons of his early education.
INFLUENCE OF THE LAWS UPON THE MAINTENANCE OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC IN THE UNITED STATES.
Three principal Causes of the Maintenance of the democratic Republic.—Federal Constitutions.—Municipal Institutions.—Judicial135 Power.
The principal aim of this book has been to make known the laws of the United States; if this purpose has been accomplished166, the reader is already enabled to judge for himself which are the laws that really tend to maintain the democratic republic, and which endanger its existence. If I have not succeeded in explaining this in the whole course of my work, I cannot hope to do so within the limits of a single chapter. It is not my intention to retrace167 the path I have already pursued; and a very few lines will suffice to recapitulate168 what I have previously169 explained.
Three circumstances seem to me to contribute most powerfully to the maintenance of the democratic republic in the United States.
The first is that federal form of government which the Americans have adopted, and which enables the union to combine the power of a great empire with the security of a small state;—
The second consists in those municipal institutions which limit the despotism of the majority, and at the same time impart a taste for freedom, and a knowledge of the art of being free, to the people;—
The third is to be met with in the constitution of the judicial power. I have shown in what manner the courts of justice serve to repress the excesses of democracy; and how they check and direct the impulses of the majority, without stopping its activity.
INFLUENCE OF MANNERS UPON THE MAINTENANCE OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC IN THE UNITED STATES.
I have previously remarked that the manners of the people may be considered as one of the general causes to which the maintenance of a democratic republic in the United States is attributable. I here use the word manners, with the meaning which the ancients attached to the word mores170; for I apply it not only to manners, in their proper sense of what constitutes the character of social intercourse171, but I extend it to the various notions and opinions current among men, and to the mass of those ideas which constitute their character of mind. I comprise, therefore, under this term the whole moral and intellectual condition of a people. My intention is not to draw a picture of American manners, but simply to point out such features of them as are favorable to the maintenance of political institutions.
RELIGION CONSIDERED AS A POLITICAL INSTITUTION, WHICH POWERFULLY CONTRIBUTES TO THE MAINTENANCE OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC AMONG THE AMERICANS.
North America peopled by Men who professed173 a democratic and republican Christianity.—Arrival of the Catholics.—For what Reason the Catholics form the most democratic and the most republican Class at the present Time.
Every religion is to be found in juxtaposition175 to a political opinion, which is connected with it by affinity176. If the human mind be left to follow its own bent177, it will regulate the temporal and spiritual institutions of society upon one uniform principle; and man will endeavor, if I may use the expression, to harmonize the state in which he lives upon earth, with the state he believes to await him in heaven.
The greatest part of British America was peopled by men who, after having shaken off the authority of the pope, acknowledged no other religious supremacy178: they brought with them into the New World a form of Christianity, which I cannot better describe, than by styling it a democratic and republican religion. This sect179 contributed powerfully to the establishment of a democracy and a republic; and from the earliest settlement of the emigrants, politics and religion contracted an alliance which has never been dissolved.
About fifty years ago Ireland began to pour a catholic population into the United States; on the other hand, the catholics of America made proselytes, and at the present moment more than a million of Christians180, professing181 the truths of the church of Rome, are to be met with in the union. These catholics are faithful to the observances of their religion; they are fervent182 and zealous183 in the support and belief of their doctrines184. Nevertheless they constitute the most republican and the most democratic class of citizens which exists in the United States; and although this fact may surprise the observer at first, the cause by which it is occasioned may easily be discovered upon reflection.
I think that the catholic religion has erroneously been looked upon as the natural enemy of democracy. Among the various sects186 of Christians, catholicism seems to me, on the contrary, to be one of those which are most favorable to the equality of conditions. In the catholic church, the religious community is composed of only two elements; the priest and the people. The priest alone rises above the rank of his flock, and all below him are equal.
On doctrinal points the catholic faith places all human capacities upon the same level; it subjects the wise and the ignorant, the man of genius and the vulgar crowd, to the details of the same creed187; it imposes the same observances upon the rich and needy188, it inflicts189 the same austerities upon the strong and the weak, it listens to no compromises with mortal man, but reducing all the human race to the same standard, it confounds all the distinctions of society at the foot of the same altar, even as they are confounded in the sight of God. If catholicism predisposes the faithful to obedience, it certainly does not prepare them for inequality; but the contrary may be said of protestantism, which generally tends to make men independent, more than to render them equal.
Catholicism is like an absolute monarchy190; if the sovereign be removed, all the other classes of society are more equal than they are in republics. It has not unfrequently occurred that the catholic priest has left the service of the altar to mix with the governing powers of society, and to make his place among the civil gradations of men. This religious influence has sometimes been used to secure the interests of that political state of things to which he belonged. At other times catholics have taken the side of aristocracy from a spirit of religion.
But no sooner is the priesthood entirely191 separated from the government, as is the case in the United States, than it is found that no class of men are more naturally disposed than the catholics to transfuse192 the doctrine185 of the equality of conditions into the political world. If, then, the catholic citizens of the United States are not forcibly led by the nature of their tenets to adopt democratic and republican principles, at least they are not necessarily opposed to them; and their social position, as well as their limited number, obliges them to adopt these opinions. Most of the catholics are poor, and they have no chance of taking a part in the government unless it be open to all the citizens. They constitute a minority, and all rights must be respected in order to ensure to them the free exercise of their own privileges. These two causes induce them, unconsciously, to adopt political doctrines which they would perhaps support with less zeal if they were rich and preponderant.
The catholic clergy193 of the United States has never attempted to oppose this political tendency; but it seeks rather to justify194 its results. The priests in America have divided the intellectual world into two parts: in the one they place the doctrines of revealed religion, which command their assent195; in the other they leave those truths, which they believe to have been freely left open to the researches of political inquiry196. Thus the catholics of the United States are at the same time the most faithful believers and the most zealous citizens.
It may be asserted that in the United States no religious doctrine displays the slightest hostility197 to democratic and republican institutions. The clergy of all the different sects holds the same language; their opinions are consonant198 to the laws, and the human intellect flows onward in one sole current.
I happened to be staying in one of the largest towns in the union, when I was invited to attend a public meeting which had been called for the purpose of assisting the Poles, and of sending them supplies of arms and money. I found two or three thousand persons collected in a vast hall which had been prepared to receive them. In a short time a priest in his ecclesiastical robes advanced to the front of the hustings199: the spectators rose, and stood uncovered, while he spoke in the following terms:—
"Almighty200 God! the God of armies! Thou who didst strengthen the hearts and guide the arms of our fathers when they were fighting for the sacred rights of national independence; thou who didst make them triumph over a hateful oppression, and hast granted to our people the benefits of liberty and peace; turn, O Lord, a favorable eye upon the other hemisphere; pitifully look down upon that heroic nation which is even now struggling as we did in the former time, and for the same rights which we defended with our blood. Thou, who didst create man in the likeness202 of the same image, let no tyranny mar4 thy work, and establish inequality upon the earth. Almighty God! do thou watch over the destiny of the Poles, and render them worthy143 to be free. May thy wisdom direct their councils, and may thy strength sustain their arms! Shed forth203 thy terror over their enemies; scatter104 the powers which take counsel against them; and vouchsafe204 that the injustice205 which the world has beheld206 for fifty years, be not consummated207 in our time. O Lord, who holdest alike the hearts of nations and of men in thy powerful hand, raise up allies to the sacred cause of right; arouse the French nation from the apathy209 in which its rulers retain it, that it go forth again to fight for the liberties of the world.
"Lord, turn not thou thy face from us, and grant that we may always be the most religious as well as the freest people of the earth. Almighty God, hear our supplications this day. Save the Poles, we beseech210 thee, in the name of thy well beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who died upon the cross for the salvation211 of men. Amen."
The whole meeting responded "Amen!" with devotion.
INDIRECT INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS OPINIONS UPON POLITICAL SOCIETY IN THE UNITED STATES.
Christian174 Morality common to all Sects.—Influence of Religion upon the Manners of the Americans.—Respect for the marriage Tie.—In what manner Religion confines the Imagination of the Americans within certain Limits, and checks the Passion of Innovation.—Opinion of the Americans on the political Utility of Religion.—Their Exertions to extend and secure its Predominance.
I have just shown what the direct influence of religion upon politics is in the United States; but its indirect influence appears to me to be still more considerable, and it never instructs the Americans more fully9 in the art of being free than when it says nothing of freedom.
The sects which exist in the United States are innumerable. They all differ in respect to the worship which is due from man to his Creator; but they all agree in respect to the duties which are due from man to man. Each sect adores the Deity in its own peculiar manner; but all the sects preach the same moral law in the name of God. If it be of the slightest importance to man, as an individual, that his religion should be true, the case of society is not the same. Society has no future life to hope for or to fear; and provided the citizens profess172 a religion, the peculiar tenets of that religion are of very little importance to its interests. Moreover, almost all the sects of the United States are comprised within the great unity30 of christianity, and Christian morality is everywhere the same.
It may be believed without unfairness, that a certain number of Americans pursue a peculiar form of worship, from habit more than from conviction. In the United States the sovereign authority is religious, and consequently hypocrisy212 must be common; but there is no country in the whole world in which the Christian religion retains a greater influence over the souls of men than in America; and there can be no greater proof of its utility, and of its conformity213 to human nature, than that its influence is most powerfully felt over the most enlightened and free nation of the earth.
I have remarked that the members of the American clergy in general, without even excepting those who do not admit religious liberty, are all in favor of civil freedom; but they do not support any particular political system. They keep aloof214 from parties, and from public affairs. In the United States religion exercises but little influence upon the laws, and upon the details of public opinion; but it directs the manners of the community, and by regulating domestic life, it regulates the state.
I do not question that the great austerity of manners which is observable in the United States, arises, in the first instance, from religious faith. Religion is often unable to restrain man from the numberless temptations of fortune; nor can it check that passion for gain which every incident of his life contributes to arouse; but its influence over the mind of women is supreme215, and women are the protectors of morals. There is certainly no country in the world where the tie of marriage is so much respected as in America, or where conjugal216 happiness is more highly or worthily217 appreciated. In Europe almost all the disturbances218 of society arise from the irregularities of domestic life. To despise the natural bonds and legitimate pleasures of home, is to contract a taste for excesses, a restlessness of heart, and the evil of fluctuating desires. Agitated219 by the tumultuous passions which frequently disturb his dwelling98, the European is galled221 by the obedience which the legislative222 powers of the state exact. But when the American retires from the turmoil223 of public life to the bosom106 of his family, he finds in it the image of order and of peace. There his pleasures are simple and natural, his joys are innocent and calm; and as he finds that an orderly life is the surest path to happiness, he accustoms224 himself without difficulty to moderate his opinions as well as his tastes. While the European endeavors to forget his domestic troubles by agitating225 society, the American derives226 from his own home that love of order, which he afterward228 carries with him into public affairs.
In the United States the influence of religion is not confined to the manners, but it extends to the intelligence of the people. Among the Anglo-Americans, there are some who profess the doctrines of Christianity from a sincere belief in them, and others who do the same because they are afraid to be suspected of unbelief. Christianity, therefore, reigns229 without any obstacle, by universal consent; the consequence is, as I have before observed, that every principle of the moral world is fixed230 and determinate, although the political world is abandoned to the debates and the experiments of men. Thus the human mind is never left to wander across a boundless field; and, whatever may be its pretensions231, it is checked from time to time by barriers which it cannot surmount232. Before it can perpetrate innovation, certain primal233 and immutable234 principles are laid down, and the boldest conceptions of human device are subjected to certain forms which retard235 and stop their completion.
The imagination of the Americans, even in its greatest flights, is circumspect236 and undecided; its impulses are checked, and its works unfinished. These habits of restraint recur237 in political society, and are singularly favorable both to the tranquillity of the people and the durability238 of the institutions it has established. Nature and circumstances concurred to make the inhabitants of the United States bold men, as is sufficiently239 attested by the enterprising spirit with which they seek for fortune. If the minds of the Americans were free from all trammels, they would very shortly become the most daring innovators and the most implacable disputants in the world. But the revolutionists of America are obliged to profess an ostensible240 respect for Christian morality and equity241, which does not easily permit them to violate the laws that oppose their designs; nor would they find it easy to surmount the scruples242 of their partisans243, even if they were able to get over their own. Hitherto no one, in the United States, has dared to advance the maxim244, that everything is permissible245 with a view to the interests of society; an impious adage247, which seems to have been invented in an age of freedom, to shelter all the tyrants248 of future ages. Thus while the law permits the Americans to do what they please, religion prevents them from conceiving, and forbids them to commit, what is rash and unjust.
Religion in America takes no direct part in the government of society, but it must nevertheless be regarded as the foremost of the political institutions of that country; for if it does not impart a taste for freedom, it facilitates the use of free institutions. Indeed, it is in this same point of view that the inhabitants of the United States themselves look upon religious belief. I do not know whether all the Americans have a sincere faith in their religion; for who can search the human heart? but I am certain that they hold it to be indispensable to the maintenance of republican institutions. This opinion is not peculiar to a class of citizens or to a party, but it belongs to the whole nation, and to every rank of society.
In the United States, if a political character attacks a sect, this may not prevent even the partisans of that very sect, from supporting him; but if he attacks all the sects together, every one abandons him, and he remains249 alone.
While I was in America, a witness, who happened to be called at the assizes of the county of Chester (state of New York), declared that he did not believe in the existence of God or in the immortality250 of the soul. The judge refused to admit his evidence, on the ground that the witness had destroyed beforehand all the confidence of the court in what he was about to say.{201} The newspapers related the fact without any farther comment.
The Americans combine the notions of Christianity and of liberty so intimately in their minds, that it is impossible to make them conceive the one without the other; and with them this conviction does not spring from that barren traditionary faith which seems to vegetate251 in the soul rather than to live.
I have known of societies formed by the Americans to send out ministers of the gospel into the new western states, to found schools and churches there, lest religion should be suffered to die away in those remote settlements, and the rising states be less fitted to enjoy free institutions than the people from which they emanated252. I met with wealthy New Englanders who abandoned the country in which they were born, in order to lay the foundations of Christianity and of freedom on the banks of the Missouri or in the prairies of Illinois. Thus religious zeal is perpetually stimulated253 in the United States by the duties of patriotism254. These men do not act from an exclusive consideration of the promises of a future life; eternity255 is only one motive256 of their devotion to the cause; and if you converse257 with these missionaries258 of Christian civilisation, you will be surprised to find how much value they set upon the goods of this world, and that you meet with a politician where you expected to find a priest. They will tell you that "all the American republics are collectively involved with each other; if the republics of the west were to fall into anarchy259, or to be mastered by a despot, the republican institutions which now flourish upon the shores of the Atlantic ocean would be in great peril260. It is therefore our interest that the new states should be religious, in order to maintain our liberties."
Such are the opinions of the Americans; and if any hold that the religious spirit which I admire is the very thing most amiss in America, and that the only element wanting to the freedom and happiness of the human race is to believe in some blind cosmogony, or to assert with Cabanis the secretion261 of thought by the brain, I can only reply, that those who hold this language have never been in America, and that they have never seen a religious or a free nation. When they return from their expedition, we shall hear what they have to say.
There are persons in France who look upon republican institutions as a temporary means of power, of wealth and distinction; men who are the condottieri of liberty, and who fight for their own advantage, whatever be the colors they wear: it is not to these that I address myself. But there are others who look forward to the republican form of government as a tranquil133 and lasting262 state, toward which modern society is daily impelled by the ideas and manners of the time, and who sincerely desire to prepare men to be free. When these men attack religious opinions, they obey the dictates263 of their passions to the prejudice of their interests. Despotism may govern without faith, but liberty cannot. Religion is much more necessary in the republic which they set forth in glowing colors, than in the monarchy which they attack; and it is more needed in democratic republics than in any others. How is it possible that society should escape destruction if the moral tie be not strengthened in proportion as the political tie is relaxed? and what can be done with a people which is its own master, if it be not submissive to the Divinity?
PRINCIPAL CAUSES WHICH RENDER RELIGION POWERFUL IN AMERICA.
Care taken by the Americans to separate the Church from the State.—The Laws, public Opinion, and even the Exertions of the Clergy concur to promote this end.—Influence of Religion upon the Mind, in the United States, attributable to this Cause.—Reason of this.—What is the natural State of Men with regard to Religion at the present time.—What are the peculiar and incidental Causes which prevent Men, in certain Countries, from arriving at this State.
The philosophers of the eighteenth century explained the gradual decay of religious faith in a very simple manner. Religious zeal, said they, must necessarily fail, the more generally liberty is established and knowledge diffused. Unfortunately, facts are by no means in accordance with their theory. There are certain populations in Europe whose unbelief is only equalled by their ignorance and their debasement, while in America one of the freest and most enlightened nations in the world fulfils all the outward duties of religion with fervor264.
Upon my arrival in the United States, the religious aspect of the country was the first thing that struck my attention; and the longer I stayed there, the more did I perceive the great political consequences resulting from this state of things, to which I was unaccustomed. In France I had almost always seen the spirit of religion and the spirit of freedom pursuing courses diametrically opposed to each other; but in America I found that they were intimately united, and that they reigned265 in common over the same country. My desire to discover the causes of this phenomenon increased from day to day. In order to satisfy it, I questioned the members of all the different sects; and I more especially sought the society of the clergy, who are the depositaries of the different persuasions267, and who are more especially interested in their duration. As a member of the Roman catholic church I was more particularly brought into contact with several of its priests, with whom I became intimately acquainted. To each of these men I expressed my astonishment268 and I explained my doubts: I found that they differed upon matters of detail alone; and that they mainly attributed the peaceable dominion269 of religion in their country, to the separation of church and state. I do not hesitate to affirm that during my stay in America, I did not meet with a single individual, of the clergy or of the laity270, who was not of the same opinion upon this point.
This led me to examine more attentively271 than I had hitherto done, the station which the American clergy occupy in political society. I learned with surprise that they fill no public appointments;{202} not one of them is to be met with in the administration, and they are not even represented in the legislative assemblies. In several states{203} the law excludes them from political life; public opinion in all. And when I came to inquire into the prevailing272 spirit of the clergy, I found that most of its members seemed to retire of their own accord from the exercise of power, and that they made it the pride of their profession to abstain273 from politics.
I heard them inveigh274 against ambition and deceit, under whatever political opinions these vices might chance to lurk275; but I learned from their discourses276 that men are not guilty in the eye of God for any opinions concerning political government, which they may profess with sincerity277, any more than they are for their mistakes in building a house or in driving a furrow278. I perceived that these ministers of the gospel eschewed279 all parties, with the anxiety attendant upon personal interest. These facts convinced me that what I had been told was true; and it then became my object to investigate their causes, and to inquire how it happened that the real authority of religion was increased by a state of things which diminished its apparent force: these causes did not long escape my researches.
The short space of threescore years can never content the imagination of man; nor can the imperfect joys of this world satisfy his heart. Man alone, of all created beings, displays a natural contempt of existence, and yet a boundless desire to exist; he scorns life, but he dreads280 annihilation. These different feelings incessantly281 urge his soul to the contemplation of a future state, and religion directs his musings thither282. Religion, then, is simply another form of hope; and it is no less natural to the human heart than hope itself. Men cannot abandon their religious faith without a kind of aberration283 of intellect, and a sort of violent distortion of their true natures; but they are invincibly284 brought back to more pious246 sentiments; for unbelief is an accident, and faith is the only permanent state of mankind. If we only consider religious institutions in a purely285 human point of view, they may be said to derive227 an inexhaustible element of strength from man himself, since they belong to one of the constituent286 principles of human nature.
I am aware that at certain times religion may strengthen this influence, which originates in itself, by the artificial power of the laws, and by the support of those temporal institutions which direct society. Religions, intimately united to the governments of the earth, have been known to exercise a sovereign authority derived287 from the twofold source of terror and of faith; but when a religion contracts an alliance of this nature, I do not hesitate to affirm that it commits the same error, as a man who should sacrifice his future to his present welfare; and in obtaining a power to which it has no claim, it risks that authority which is rightfully its own. When a religion founds its empire upon the desire of immortality which lives in every human heart, it may aspire288 to universal dominion: but when it connects itself with a government, it must necessarily adopt maxims289 which are only applicable to certain nations. Thus, in forming an alliance with a political power, religion augments290 its authority over a few, and forfeits291 the hope of reigning292 over all.
As long as a religion rests upon those sentiments which are the consolation293 of all affliction, it may attract the affections of mankind. But if it be mixed up with the bitter passions of the world, it may be constrained294 to defend allies whom its interests, and not the principle of love, have given to it; or to repel295 as antagonists297 men who are still attached to its own spirit, however opposed they may be to the powers to which it is allied298. The church cannot share the temporal power of the state, without being the object of a portion of that animosity which the latter excites.
The political powers which seem to be most firmly established have frequently no better guarantee for their duration, than the opinions of a generation, the interests of the time, or the life of an individual. A law may modify the social condition which seems to be most fixed and determinate; and with the social condition everything else must change. The powers of society are more or less fugitive299, like the years which we spend upon the earth; they succeed each other with rapidity like the fleeting300 cares of life; and no government has ever yet been founded upon an invariable disposition of the human heart, or upon an imperishable interest.
As long as religion is sustained by those feelings, propensities, and passions, which are found to occur under the same forms at all the different periods of history, it may defy the efforts of time; or at least it can only be destroyed by another religion. But when religion clings to the interests of the world, it becomes almost as fragile a thing as the powers of the earth. It is the only one of them all which can hope for immortality; but if it be connected with their ephemeral authority, it shares their fortunes, and may fall with those transient passions which supported them for a day. The alliance which religion contracts with political powers must needs be onerous301 to itself; since it does not require their assistance to live, and by giving them its assistance it may be exposed to decay.
The danger which I have just pointed out always exists, but it is not always equally visible. In some ages governments seem to be imperishable, in others the existence of society appears to be more precarious302 than the life of man. Some constitutions plunge64 the citizens into a lethargic303 somnolence304, and others rouse them to feverish305 excitement. When government appears to be so strong, and laws so stable, men do not perceive the dangers which may accrue306 from a union of church and state. When governments display so much inconstancy, the danger is self-evident, but it is no longer possible to avoid it; to be effectual, measures must be taken to discover its approach.
In proportion as a nation assumes a democratic condition of society, and as communities display democratic propensities, it becomes more and more dangerous to connect religion with political institutions; for the time is coming when authority will be bandied from hand to hand, when political theories will succeed each other, and when men, laws and constitutions, will disappear or be modified from day to day, and this not for a season only, but unceasingly. Agitation307 and mutability are inherent in the nature of democratic republics, just as stagnation308 and inertness309 are the law of absolute monarchies310.
If the Americans, who change the head of the government once in four years, who elect new legislators every two years, and renew the provincial311 officers every twelvemonth; if the Americans, who have abandoned the political world to the attempts of innovators, had not placed religion beyond their reach, where could it abide312 in the ebb313 and flow of human opinions? where would that respect which belongs to it be paid, amid the struggles of faction314? and what would become of its immortality in the midst of perpetual decay? The American clergy were the first to perceive this truth, and to act in conformity with it. They saw that they must renounce315 their religious influence, if they were to strive for political power; and they chose to give up the support of the state, rather than to share in its vicissitudes316.
In America, religion is perhaps less powerful than it has been at certain periods in the history of certain peoples; but its influence is more lasting. It restricts itself to its own resources, but of those none can deprive it: its circle is limited to certain principles, but those principles are entirely its own, and under its undisputed control.
On every side in Europe we hear voices complaining of the absence of religious faith, and inquiring the means of restoring to religion some remnant of its pristine authority. It seems to me that we must first attentively consider what ought to be the natural state of men with regard to religion, at the present time; and when we know what we have to hope and to fear, we may discern the end to which our efforts ought to be directed.
The two great dangers which threaten the existence of religions are schism317 and indifference318. In ages of fervent devotion, men sometimes abandon their religion, but they only shake it off in order to adopt another. Their faith changes the objects to which it is directed, but it suffers no decline. The old religion, then, excites enthusiastic attachment or bitter enmity in either party; some leave it with anger, others cling to it with increased devotedness319, and although persuasions differ, irreligion is unknown. Such, however, is not the case when a religious belief is secretly undermined by doctrines which may be termed negative, since they deny the truth of one religion without affirming that of any other. Prodigious revolutions then take place in the human mind, without the apparent co-operation of the passions of man, and almost without his knowledge. Men lose the object of their fondest hopes, as if through forgetfulness. They are carried away by an imperceptible current which they have not the courage to stem, but which they follow with regret, since it bears them from a faith they love, to a scepticism that plunges them into despair.
In ages which answer to this description, men desert their religious opinions from lukewarmness rather than from dislike; they do not reject them, but the sentiments by which they were once fostered disappear. But if the unbeliever does not admit religion to be true, he still considers it useful. Regarding religious institutions in a human point of view, he acknowledges their influence upon manners and legislation. He admits that they may serve to make men live in peace with one another and to prepare them gently for the hour of death. He regrets the faith which he has lost; and as he is deprived of a treasure which he has learned to estimate at its full value, he scruples to take it from those who still possess it.
On the other hand, those who continue to believe, are not afraid openly to avow320 their faith. They look upon those who do not share their persuasion266 as more worthy of pity than of opposition321; and they are aware, that to acquire the esteem322 of the unbelieving, they are not obliged to follow their example. They are hostile to no one in the world; and as they do not consider the society in which they live as an arena323 in which religion is bound to face its thousand deadly foes324, they love their contemporaries, while they condemn325 their weaknesses, and lament326 their errors.
As those who do not believe, conceal67 their incredulity; and as those who believe, display their faith, public opinion pronounces itself in favor of religion: love, support, and honor, are bestowed327 upon it, and it is only by searching the human soul, that we can detect the wounds which it has received. The mass of mankind, who are never without the feeling of religion, do not perceive anything at variance328 with the established faith. The instinctive329 desire of a future life brings the crowd about the altar, and opens the hearts of men to the precepts330 and consolations331 of religion.
But this picture is not applicable to us; for there are men among us who have ceased to believe in Christianity, without adopting any other religion; others who are in the perplexities of doubt, and who already affect not to believe; and others, again, who are afraid to avow that Christian faith which they still cherish in secret.
Amid these lukewarm partisans and ardent antagonists, a small number of believers exist, who are ready to brave all obstacles, and to scorn all dangers in defence of their faith. They have done violence to human weakness, in order to rise superior to public opinion. Excited by the effort they have made, they scarcely know where to stop; and as they know that the first use which the French made, of independence, was to attack religion, they look upon their contemporaries with dread, and they recoil332 in alarm from the liberty which their fellow-citizens are seeking to obtain. As unbelief appears to them to be a novelty, they comprise all that is new in one indiscriminate animosity. They are at war with their age and country, and they look upon every opinion which is put forth there as the necessary enemy of the faith.
Such is not the natural state of men with regard to religion at the present day; and some extraordinary or incidental cause must be at work in France, to prevent the human mind from following its original propensities, and to drive it beyond the limits at which it ought naturally to stop.
I am intimately convinced that this extraordinary and incidental cause is the close connexion of politics and religion. The unbelievers of Europe attack the Christians as their political opponents, rather than as their religious adversaries333; they hate the Christian religion as the opinion of a party, much more than as an error of belief; and they reject the clergy less because they are the representatives of the Divinity, than because they are the allies of authority.
In Europe, Christianity has been intimately united to the powers of the earth. Those powers are now in decay, and it is, as it were, buried under their ruins. The living body of religion has been bound down to the dead corpse334 of superannuated335 polity; cut the bonds which restrain it, and that which is alive will rise once more. I know not what could restore the Christian church of Europe to the energy of its earlier days; that power belongs to God alone; but it may be the effect of human policy to leave the faith in all the full exercise of the strength which it still retains.
HOW THE INSTRUCTION, THE HABITS, AND THE PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE OF THE AMERICANS PROMOTE THE SUCCESS OF THEIR DEMOCRATIC INSTITUTIONS.
What is to be understood by the instruction of the American People.—The human Mind is more superficially instructed in the United States than in Europe.—No one completely uninstructed.—Reason of this Rapidity with which Opinions are diffused even in the uncultivated States of the West.—Practical Experience more serviceable to the Americans than Book-learning.
I have but little to add to what I have already said, concerning the influence which the instruction and the habits of the Americans exercise upon the maintenance of their political institutions.
America has hitherto produced very few writers of distinction; it possesses no great historians, and not a single eminent336 poet. The inhabitants of that country look upon what are properly styled literary pursuits with a kind of disapprobation; and there are towns of very second rate importance in Europe, in which more literary works are annually published, than in the twenty-four states of the union put together. The spirit of the Americans is averse337 to general ideas; and it does not seek theoretical discoveries. Neither politics nor manufactures direct them to these occupations; and although new laws are perpetually enacted338 in the United States, no great writers have hitherto inquired into the principles of their legislation. The Americans have lawyers and commentators339, but no jurists; and they furnish examples rather than lessons to the world. The same observation applies to the mechanical arts. In America, the inventions of Europe are adopted with sagacity; they are perfected, and adapted with admirable skill to the wants of the country. Manufactures exist, but the science of manufacture is not cultivated; and they have good workmen, but very few inventors. Fulton was obliged to proffer86 his services to foreign nations for a long time before he was able to devote them to his own country.
{The remark that in America "there are very good workmen but very few inventors," will excite surprise in this country. The inventive character of Fulton he seems to admit, but would apparently340 deprive us of the credit of his name, by the remark that he was obliged to proffer his services to foreign nations for a long time. He might have added, that those proffers were disregarded and neglected, and that it was finally in his own country that he found the aid necessary to put in execution his great project. If there be patronage341 extended by the citizens of the United States to any one thing in preference to another, it is to the results of inventive genius. Surely Franklin, Rittenhouse, and Perkins, have been heard of by our author; and he must have heard something of that wonderful invention, the cotton-gin of Whitney, and of the machines for making cards to comb wool. The original machines of Fulton for the application of steam have been constantly improving, so that there is scarcely a vestige101 of them remaining. But to sum up the whole in one word, can it be possible that our author did not visit the patent office at Washington? Whatever may be said of the utility of nine-tenths of the inventions of which the descriptions and models are there deposited, no one who has ever seen that depository, or who has read a description of its contents, can doubt that they furnish the most incontestible evidence of extraordinary inventive genius—a genius that has excited the astonishment of other European travellers.—American Editor.}
The observer who is desirous of forming an opinion on the state of instruction among the Anglo-Americans, must consider the same object from two different points of view. If he only singles out the learned, he will be astonished to find how rare they are; but if he counts the ignorant, the American people will appear to be the most enlightened community in the world. The whole population, as I observed in another place, is situated342 between these two extremes.
In New England, every citizen receives the elementary notions of human knowledge; he is moreover taught the doctrines and the evidences of his religion, the history of his country, and the leading features of its constitution. In the states of Connecticut and Massachusetts, it is extremely rare to find a man imperfectly acquainted with all these things, and a person wholly ignorant of them is a sort of phenomenon.
When I compare the Greek and Roman republics with these American states; the manuscript libraries of the former, and their rude population, with the innumerable journals and the enlightened people of the latter; when I remember all the attempts which are made to judge the modern republics by the assistance of those of antiquity, and to infer what will happen in our time from what took place two thousand years ago, I am tempted to burn my books, in order to apply none but novel ideas to so novel a condition of society.
What I have said of New England must not, however, be applied indiscriminately to the whole union: as we advance towards the west or the south, the instruction of the people diminishes. In the states which are adjacent to the Gulf343 of Mexico, a certain number of individuals may be found, as in our own countries, who are devoid344 of the rudiments345 of instruction. But there is not a single district in the United States sunk in complete ignorance; and for a very simple reason; the peoples of Europe started from the darkness of a barbarous condition to advance toward the light of civilisation; their progress has been unequal; some of them have improved apace, while others have loitered in their course, and some have stopped, and are still sleeping upon the way.
Such has not been the case in the United States. The Anglo-Americans settled in a state of civilisation, upon that territory which their descendants occupy; they had not to begin to learn, and it was sufficient not to forget. Now the children of these same Americans are the persons who, year by year, transport their dwellings into the wilds: and with their dwellings their acquired information and their esteem for knowledge. Education has taught them the utility of instruction, and has enabled them to transmit that instruction to their posterity346. In the United States society has no infancy347, but it is born in man's estate.
The Americans never use the word "peasant," because they have no idea of the peculiar class which that term denotes; the ignorance of more remote ages, the simplicity348 of rural life, and the rusticity349 of the villager, have not been preserved among them; and they are alike unacquainted with the virtues, the vices, the coarse habits, and the simple graces of an early stage of civilisation. At the extreme borders of the confederate states, upon the confines of society and of the wilderness350, a population of bold adventurers have taken up their abode351, who pierce the solitudes of the American woods, and seek a country there, in order to escape that poverty which awaited them in their native provinces. As soon as the pioneer arrives upon the spot which is to serve him for a retreat, he fells a few trees and builds a log-house. Nothing can offer a more miserable352 aspect than these isolated dwellings. The traveller who approaches one of them toward night-fall, sees the flicker353 of the hearth-flame through the chinks in the walls; and at night, if the wind rises, he hears the roof of boughs354 shake to and fro in the midst of the great forest trees. Who would not suppose that this poor hut is the asylum of rudeness and ignorance? Yet no sort of comparison can be drawn355 between the pioneer and the dwelling which shelters him. Everything about him is primitive356 and unformed, but he is himself the result of the labor and the experience of eighteen centuries. He wears the dress, and he speaks the language of cities; he is acquainted with the past, curious of the future, and ready for argument upon the present; he is, in short, a highly civilized being, who consents, for a time, to inhabit the back-woods, and who penetrates357 into the wilds of a New World with the Bible, an axe16, and a file of newspapers.
It is difficult to imagine the incredible rapidity with which public opinion circulates in the midst of these deserts.{204} I do not think that so much intellectual intercourse takes place in the most enlightened and populous districts of France.{205} It cannot be doubted that in the United States, the instruction of the people powerfully contributes to the support of a democratic republic; and such must always be the case, I believe, where instruction, which awakens358 the understanding, is not separated from moral education which amends360 the heart. But I by no means exaggerate this benefit, and I am still farther from thinking, as so many people do think in Europe, that men can be instantaneously made citizens by teaching them to read and write. True information is mainly derived from experience, and if the Americans had not been gradually accustomed to govern themselves, their book-learning would not assist them much at the present day.
I have lived a great deal with the people in the United States, and I cannot express how much I admire their experience and their good sense. An American should never be allowed to speak of Europe; for he will then probably display a vast deal of presumption361 and very foolish pride. He will take up with those crude and vague notions which are so useful to the ignorant all over the world. But if you question him respecting his own country, the cloud which dimmed his intelligence will immediately disperse161; his language will become as clear and as precise as his thoughts. He will inform you what his rights are, and by what means he exercises them; he will be able to point out the customs which obtain in the political world. You will find that he is well acquainted with the rules of the administration, and that he is familiar with the mechanism362 of the laws. The citizen of the United States does not acquire his practical science and his positive notions from books; the instruction he has acquired may have prepared him for receiving those ideas, but it did not furnish them. The American learns to know the laws by participating in the act of legislation; and he takes a lesson in the forms of government, from governing. The great work of society is ever going on beneath his eyes, and, as it were, under his hands.
In the United States politics are the end and aim of education; in Europe its principal object is to fit men for private life. The interference of the citizens in public affairs is too rare an occurrence for it to be anticipated beforehand. Upon casting a glance over society in the two hemispheres, these differences are indicated even by its external aspect.
In Europe, we frequently introduce the ideas and the habits of private life into public affairs; and as we pass at once from the domestic circle to the government of the state, we may frequently be heard to discuss the great interests of society in the same manner in which we converse with our friends. The Americans, on the other hand, transfuse the habits of public life into their manners in private; and in their country the jury is introduced into the games of school-boys, and parliamentary forms are observed in the order of a feast.
THE LAWS CONTRIBUTE MORE TO THE MAINTENANCE OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC IN THE UNITED STATES THAN THE PHYSICAL CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE COUNTRY, AND THE MANNERS MORE THAN THE LAWS.
All the Nations of America have a democratic State of Society.—Yet democratic Institutions subsist only among the Anglo-Americans.—The Spaniards of South America, equally favored by physical Causes as the Anglo-Americans, unable to maintain a democratic Republic.—Mexico, which has adopted the Constitution of the United States, in the same Predicament.—The Anglo-Americans of the West less able to maintain it than those of the East.—Reason of these different Results.
I have remarked that the maintenance of democratic institutions in the United States is attributable to the circumstances, the laws, and the manners of that country.{206} Most Europeans are only acquainted with the first of these three causes, and they are apt to give it a preponderating363 importance which it does not really possess.
It is true that the Anglo-Americans settled in the New World in a state of social equality; the low-born and the noble were not to be found among them; and professional prejudices were always as entirely unknown as the prejudices of birth. Thus, as the condition of society was democratic, the empire of democracy was established without difficulty. But this circumstance is by no means peculiar to the United States; almost all the transatlantic colonies were founded by men equal among themselves, or who became so by inhabiting them. In no one part of the New World have Europeans been able to create an aristocracy. Nevertheless democratic institutions prosper nowhere but in the United States.
The American union has no enemies to contend with; it stands in the wilds like an island in the ocean. But the Spaniards of South America were no less isolated by nature; yet their position has not relieved them from the charge of standing359 armies. They make war upon each other when they have no foreign enemies to oppose; and the Anglo-American democracy is the only one which has hitherto been able to maintain itself in peace.
The territory of the union presents a boundless field to human activity, and inexhaustible materials for industry and labor. The passion of wealth takes the place of ambition, and the warmth of faction is mitigated364 by a sense of prosperity. But in what portion of the globe shall we meet with more fertile plains, with mightier365 rivers, or with more unexplored and inexhaustible riches, than in South America?
Nevertheless South America has been unable to maintain democratic institutions. If the welfare of nations depended on their being placed in a remote position, with an unbounded space of habitable territory before them, the Spaniards of South America would have no reason to complain of their fate. And although they might enjoy less prosperity than the inhabitants of the United States, their lot might still be such as to excite the envy of some nations in Europe. There are, however, no nations upon the face of the earth more miserable than those of South America.
Thus, not only are physical causes inadequate366 to produce results analogous367 to those which occur in North America, but they are unable to raise the population of South America above the level of European states, where they act in a contrary direction. Physical causes do not therefore affect the destiny of nations so much as has been supposed.
I have met with men in New England who were on the point of leaving a country, where they might have remained in easy circumstances, to go to seek their fortunes in the wilds. Not far from that district I found a French population in Canada, which was closely crowded on a narrow territory, although the same wilds were at hand; and while the emigrant from the United States purchased an extensive estate with the earnings368 of a short term of labor, the Canadian paid as much for land as he would have done in France. Nature offers the solitudes of the New World to Europeans; but they are not always acquainted with the means of turning her gifts to account. Other peoples of America have the same physical conditions of prosperity as the Anglo-Americans, but without their laws and their manners; and these peoples are wretched. The laws and manners of the Anglo-Americans are therefore that cause of their greatness which is the object of my inquiry.
I am far from supposing that the American laws are preeminently good in themselves; I do not hold them to be applicable to all democratic peoples; and several of them seem to me to be dangerous, even in the United States. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the American legislation, taken collectively, is extremely well adapted to the genius of the people and the nature of the country which it is intended to govern. The American laws are therefore good, and to them must be attributed a large portion of the success which attends the government of democracy in America: but I do not believe them to be the principal cause of that success; and if they seem to me to have more influence upon the social happiness of the Americans than the nature of the country, on the other hand there is reason to believe that their effect is still inferior to that produced by the manners of the people.
The federal laws undoubtedly constitute the most important part of the legislation of the United States. Mexico, which is not less fortunately situated than the Anglo-American union, has adopted these same laws, but is unable to accustom60 itself to the government of democracy. Some other cause is therefore at work independently of those physical circumstances and peculiar laws which enable the democracy to rule in the United States.
Another still more striking proof may be adduced. Almost all the inhabitants of the territory of the union are the descendants of a common stock; they speak the same language, they worship God in the same manner, they are affected369 by the same physical causes, and they obey the same laws. Whence, then, do their characteristic differences arise? Why, in the eastern states of the union, does the republican government display vigor370 and regularity371, and proceed with mature deliberation? Whence does it derive the wisdom and durability which mark its acts, while in the western states, on the contrary, society seems to be ruled by the powers of chance? There, public business is conducted with an irregularity, and a passionate and feverish excitement, which does not announce a long or sure duration.
I am no longer comparing the Anglo-American states to foreign nations; but I am contrasting them with each other, and endeavoring to discover why they are so unlike. The arguments which are derived from the nature of the country and the difference of legislation, are here all set aside. Recourse must be had to some other cause; and what other cause can there be except the manners of the people?
It is in the eastern states that the Anglo-Americans have been longest accustomed to the government of democracy, and that they have adopted the habits and conceived the notions most favorable to its maintenance. Democracy has gradually penetrated372 into their customs, their opinions, and the forms of social intercourse; it is to be found in all the details of daily life equally as in the laws. In the eastern states the instruction and practical education of the people have been most perfected, and religion has been most thoroughly373 amalgamated374 with liberty. Now these habits, opinions, customs, and convictions, are precisely375 the constituent elements of that which I have denominated manners.
In the western states, on the contrary, a portion of the same advantages is still wanting. Many of the Americans of the west were born in the woods, and they mix the ideas and the customs of savage life with the civilisation of their parents. Their passions are more intense; their religious morality less authoritative376; and their convictions are less secure. The inhabitants exercise no sort of control over their fellow-citizens, for they are scarcely acquainted with each other. The nations of the west display, to a certain extent, the inexperience and the rude habits of a people in its infancy; for although they are composed of old elements, their assemblage is of recent date.
The manners of the Americans of the United States are, then, the real cause which renders that people the only one of the American nations that is able to support a democratic government; and it is the influence of manners which produces the different degrees of order and of prosperity, that may be distinguished377 in the several Anglo-American democracies. Thus the effect which the geographical378 position of a country may have upon the duration of democratic institutions is exaggerated in Europe. Too much importance is attributed to legislation, too little to manners. These three great causes serve, no doubt, to regulate and direct the American democracy; but if they were to be classed in their proper order, I should say that the physical circumstances are less efficient than the laws, and the laws very subordinate to the manners of the people. I am convinced that the most advantageous379 situation and the best possible laws cannot maintain a constitution in spite of the manners of a country: while the latter may turn the most unfavorable positions and the worst laws to some advantage. The importance of manners is a common truth to which study and experience incessantly direct our attention. It may be regarded as a central point in the range of human observation, and the common termination of all inquiry. So seriously do I insist upon this head, that if I have hitherto failed in making the reader feel the important influence which I attribute to the practical experience, the habits, the opinions, in short, to the manners of the Americans, upon the maintenance of their institutions, I have failed in the principal object of my work.
WHETHER LAWS AND MANNERS ARE SUFFICIENT TO MAINTAIN DEMOCRATIC INSTITUTIONS IN OTHER COUNTRIES BESIDE AMERICA.
The Anglo-Americans, if transported into Europe, would be obliged to modify their Laws.—Distinction to be made between democratic Institutions and American Institutions.—Democratic Laws may be conceived better than, or at least different from, those which the American Democracy has adopted.—The Example of America only proves that it is possible to regulate Democracy by the assistance of Manners and Legislation.
I have asserted that the success of democratic institutions in the United States is more intimately connected with the laws themselves, and the manners of the people, than with the nature of the country. But does it follow that the same causes would of themselves produce the same results, if they were put into operation elsewhere; and if the country is no adequate substitute for laws and manners, can laws and manners in their turn prove a substitute for a country? It will readily be understood that the necessary elements of a reply to this question are wanting: other peoples are to be found in the New World beside the Anglo-Americans, and as these peoples are affected by the same physical circumstances as the latter, they may fairly be compared together. But there are no nations out of America which have adopted the same laws and manners, being destitute380 of the physical advantages peculiar to the Anglo-Americans. No standard of comparison therefore exists, and we can only hazard an opinion upon this subject.
It appears to me in the first place, that a careful distinction must be made between the institutions of the United States and democratic institutions in general. When I reflect upon the state of Europe, its mighty201 nations, its populous cities, its formidable armies, and the complex nature of its politics, I cannot suppose that even the Anglo-Americans, if they were transported to our hemisphere, with their ideas, their religion, and their manners, could exist without considerably381 altering their laws. But a democratic nation may be imagined, organized differently from the American people. It is not impossible to conceive a government really established upon the will of the majority; but in which the majority, repressing its natural propensity382 to equality, should consent, with a view to the order and the stability of the state, to invest a family or an individual with all the prerogatives383 of the executive. A democratic society might exist, in which the forces of the nation would be more centralized than they are in the United States; the people would exercise a less direct and less irresistible384 influence upon public affairs, and yet every citizen, invested with certain rights, would participate, within his sphere, in the conduct of the government. The observations I made among the Anglo-Americans induce me to believe that democratic institutions of this kind, prudently385 introduced into society, so as gradually to mix with the habits and to be infused with the opinions of the people, might subsist in other countries beside America. If the laws of the United States were the only imaginable democratic laws, or the most perfect which it is possible to conceive, I should admit that the success of those institutions affords no proof of the success of democratic institutions in general, in a country less favored by natural circumstances. But as the laws of America appear to me to be defective386 in several respects, and as I can readily imagine others of the same general nature, the peculiar advantages of that country do not prove that democratic institutions cannot succeed in a nation less favored by circumstances, if ruled by better laws.
If human nature were different in America from what it is elsewhere; or if the social condition of the Americans engendered387 habits and opinions among them different from those which originate in the same social condition in the Old World, the American democracies would afford no means of predicting what may occur in other democracies. If the Americans displayed the same propensities as all other democratic nations, and if their legislators had relied upon the nature of the country and the favor of circumstances to restrain those propensities within due limits, the prosperity of the United States would be exclusively attributable to physical causes, and it would afford no encouragement to a people inclined to imitate their example, without sharing their natural advantages. But neither of these suppositions is borne out by facts.
In America the same passions are to be met with as in Europe; some originating in human nature, others in the democratic condition of society. Thus in the United States I found that restlessness of heart which is natural to men, when all ranks are nearly equal and the chances of elevation388 are the same to all. I found the democratic feeling of envy expressed under a thousand different forms. I remarked that the people frequently displayed, in the conduct of affairs, a consummate208 mixture of ignorance and presumption, and I inferred that, in America, men are liable to the same failings and the same absurdities389 as among ourselves. But upon examining the state of society more attentively, I speedily discovered that the Americans had made great and successful efforts to counteract390 these imperfections of human nature, and to correct the natural defects of democracy. Their divers391 municipal laws appeared to me to be a means of restraining the ambition of the citizens within a narrow sphere, and of turning those same passions, which might have worked havoc392 in the state, to the good of the township or the parish. The American legislators have succeeded to a certain extent in opposing the notion of rights, to the feelings of envy; the permanence of the religious world, to the continual shifting of politics; the experience of the people, to its theoretical ignorance; and its practical knowledge of business, to the impatience393 of its desires.
The Americans, then, have not relied upon the nature of their country, to counterpoise those dangers which originate in their constitution and in their political laws. To evils which are common to all democratic peoples, they have applied remedies which none but themselves had ever thought of before; and although they were the first to make the experiment, they have succeeded in it.
The manners and laws of the Americans are not the only ones which may suit a democratic people; but the Americans have shown that it would be wrong to despair of regulating democracy by the aid of manners and of laws. If other nations should borrow this general and pregnant idea from the Americans, without however intending to imitate them in the peculiar application which they have made of it; if they should attempt to fit themselves for that social condition, which it seems to be the will of Providence to impose upon the generations of this age, and so to escape from the despotism of the anarchy which threatens them; what reason is there to suppose that their efforts would not be crowned with success? The organization and the establishment of democracy in Christendom, is the great political problem of the time. The Americans, unquestionably, have not resolved this problem, but they furnish useful data to those who undertake the task.
IMPORTANCE OF WHAT PRECEDES WITH RESPECT TO THE STATE OF EUROPE.
It may readily be discovered with what intention I undertook the foregoing inquiries394. The question here discussed is interesting not only to the United States, but to the whole world; it concerns, not a nation, but all mankind. If those nations whose social condition is democratic could only remain free as long as they are inhabitants of the wilds, we could not but despair of the future destiny of the human race; for democracy is rapidly acquiring a more extended sway, and the wilds are gradually peopled with men. If it were true that laws and manners are insufficient to maintain democratic institutions, what refuge would remain open to the nations except the despotism of a single individual? I am aware that there are many worthy persons at the present time who are not alarmed at this latter alternative, and who are so tired of liberty as to be glad of repose, far from those storms by which it is attended. But these individuals are ill acquainted with the haven395 to which they are bound. They are so deluded396 by their recollections, as to judge the tendency of absolute power by what it was formerly397, and not what it might become at the present time.
If absolute power were re-established among the democratic nations of Europe, I am persuaded that it would assume a new form, and appear under features unknown to our forefathers. There was a time in Europe, when the laws and the consent of the people had invested princes with almost unlimited398 authority; but they scarcely ever availed themselves of it. I do not speak of the prerogatives of the nobility, of the authority of supreme courts of justice, of corporations and their chartered rights, or of provincial privileges, which served to break the blows of the sovereign authority, and to maintain a spirit of resistance in the nation. Independently of these political institutions—which, however opposed they might be to personal liberty, served to keep alive the love of freedom in the mind of the public, and which may be esteemed399 to have been useful in this respect—the manners and opinions of the nation confined the royal authority within barriers which were not less powerful, although they were less conspicuous400. Religion, the affections of the people, the benevolence401 of the prince, the sense of honor, family pride, provincial prejudices, custom, and public opinion, limited the power of kings, and restrained their authority within an invisible circle. The constitution of nations was despotic at that time but their manners were free. Princes had the right, but they had neither the means nor the desire, of doing whatever they pleased.
But what now remains of those barriers which formerly arrested the aggressions of tyranny? Since religion has lost its empire over the souls of men, the most prominent boundary which divided good from evil is overthrown402: the very elements of the moral world are indeterminate; the princes and the peoples of the earth are guided by chance, and none can define the natural limits of despotism and the bounds of license403. Long revolutions have for ever destroyed the respect which surrounded the rulers of the state; and since they have been relieved from the burden of public esteem, princes may henceforward surrender themselves without fear to the seductions of arbitrary power.
When kings find that the hearts of their subjects are turned toward them, they are clement404, because they are conscious of their strength; and they are chary405 of the affection of their people, because the affection of their people is the bulwark406 of the throne. A mutual interchange of good will then takes place between the prince and the people, which resembles the gracious intercourse of domestic society. The subjects may murmur407 at the sovereign's decree, but they are grieved to displease408 him; and the sovereign chastises409 his subjects with the light hand of parental410 affection.
But when once the spell of royalty411 is broken in the tumult220 of revolution; when successive monarchs412 have occupied the throne, and alternately displayed to the people the weakness of right, and the harshness of power, the sovereign is no longer regarded by any as the father of the state, and he is feared by all as its master. If he be weak, he is despised; if he be strong, he is detested413. He is himself full of animosity and alarm; he finds that he is a stranger in his own country, and he treats his subjects like conquered enemies.
When the provinces and the towns formed so many different nations in the midst of their common country, each of them had a will of its own, which was opposed to the general spirit of subjection; but now that all the parts of the same empire, after having lost their immunities414, their customs, their prejudices, their traditions, and their names, are subjected and accustomed to the same laws, it is not more difficult to oppress them collectively, than it was formerly to oppress them singly.
While the nobles enjoyed their power, and indeed long after that power was lost, the honor of aristocracy conferred an extraordinary degree of force upon their personal opposition. They afforded instances of men who, notwithstanding their weakness, still entertained a high opinion of their personal value, and dared to cope single-handed with the efforts of the public authority. But at the present day, when all ranks are more and more confounded, when the individual disappears in the throng415, and is easily lost in the midst of a common obscurity, when the honor of monarchy has almost lost its empire without being succeeded by public virtue, and when nothing can enable man to rise above himself, who shall say at what point the exigencies416 of power and servility of weakness will stop?
As long as family feeling was kept alive, the antagonist296 of oppression was never alone; he looked about him, and found his clients, his hereditary417 friends, and his kinsfolk. If this support was wanting, he was sustained by his ancestors and animated418 by his posterity. But when patrimonial estates are divided, and when a few years suffice to confound the distinctions of a race, where can family feeling be found? What force can there be in the customs of a country which has changed, and is still perpetually changing its aspect; in which every act of tyranny has a precedent419, and every crime an example; in which there is nothing so old that its antiquity can save it from destruction, and nothing so unparalleled that its novelty can prevent it from being done? What resistance can be offered by manners of so pliant420 a make, that they have already often yielded? What strength can even public opinion have retained, when no twenty persons are connected by a common tie; when not a man, nor a family, nor chartered corporation, nor class, nor free institution, has the power of representing that opinion; and when every citizen—being equally weak, equally poor, and equally dependant—has only his personal impotence to oppose to the organized force of the government?
The annals of France furnish nothing analogous to the condition in which that country might then be thrown. But it may more aptly be assimilated to the times of old, and to those hideous421 eras of Roman oppression, when the manners of the people were corrupted422, their traditions obliterated423, their habits destroyed, their opinions shaken, and freedom, expelled from the laws, could find no refuge in the land; when nothing protected the citizens, and the citizens no longer protected themselves; when human nature was the sport of man, and princes wearied out the clemency424 of Heaven before they exhausted425 the patience of their subjects. Those who hope to revive the monarchy of Henry IV. or of Louis XIV., appear to me to be afflicted426 with mental blindness; and when I consider the present condition of several European nations—a condition to which all the others tend—I am led to believe that they will soon be left with no other alternative than democratic liberty, or the tyranny of the Caesars.
And, indeed, it is deserving of consideration, whether men are to be entirely emancipated427, or entirely enslaved; whether their rights are to be made equal, or wholly taken away from them. If the rulers of society were reduced either gradually to raise the crowd to their own level, or to sink the citizens below that of humanity, would not the doubts of many be resolved, the consciences of many be healed, and the community be prepared to make great sacrifices with little difficulty? In that case, the gradual growth of democratic manners and institutions should be regarded, not as the best, but as the only means of preserving freedom; and without liking428 the government of democracy, it might be adopted as the most applicable and the fairest remedy for the present ills of society.
It is difficult to associate a people in the work of government; but it is still more difficult to supply it with experience, and to inspire it with the feelings which it requires in order to govern well. I grant that the caprices of democracy are perpetual; its instruments are rude, its laws imperfect. But if it were true that soon no just medium would exist between the empire of democracy and the dominion of a single arm, should we not rather incline toward the former, than submit voluntarily to the latter? And if complete equality be our fate, is it not better to be levelled by free institutions than by despotic power?
Those who, after having read this book, should imagine that my intention in writing it has been to propose the laws and manners of the Anglo-Americans for the imitation of all democratic peoples, would commit a very great mistake; they must have paid more attention to the form than to the substance of my ideas. My aim has been to show, by the example of America, that laws, and especially manners, may exist, which will allow a democratic people to remain free. But I am very far from thinking that we ought to follow the example of the American democracy, and copy the means which it has employed to attain its ends; for I am well aware of the influence which the nature of a country and its political precedents429 exercise upon a constitution; and I should regard it as a great misfortune for mankind, if liberty were to exist, all over the world, under the same forms.
But I am of opinion that if we do not succeed in gradually introducing democratic institutions into France, and if we despair of imparting to the citizens those ideas and sentiments which first prepare them for freedom, and afterward allow them to enjoy it, there will be no independence at all, either for the middling classes or the nobility, for the poor or for the rich, but an equal tyranny over all; and I foresee that if the peaceable empire of the majority be not founded among us in time, we shall sooner or later arrive at the unlimited authority of a single despot.
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1 subsist | |
vi.生存,存在,供养 | |
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2 subsists | |
v.(靠很少的钱或食物)维持生活,生存下去( subsist的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3 succinct | |
adj.简明的,简洁的 | |
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4 mar | |
vt.破坏,毁坏,弄糟 | |
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5 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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6 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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7 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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8 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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9 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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10 solitudes | |
n.独居( solitude的名词复数 );孤独;荒僻的地方;人迹罕至的地方 | |
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11 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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12 prosper | |
v.成功,兴隆,昌盛;使成功,使昌隆,繁荣 | |
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13 concur | |
v.同意,意见一致,互助,同时发生 | |
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14 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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15 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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17 scourge | |
n.灾难,祸害;v.蹂躏 | |
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18 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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19 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
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20 presidency | |
n.总统(校长,总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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21 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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22 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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23 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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24 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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25 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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27 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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28 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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32 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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n.祖先,先人;祖先,祖宗( forefather的名词复数 );列祖列宗;前人 | |
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vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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36 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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37 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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38 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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39 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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40 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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41 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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42 subjugate | |
v.征服;抑制 | |
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43 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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44 extirpate | |
v.除尽,灭绝 | |
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45 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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48 deity | |
n.神,神性;被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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49 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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50 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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51 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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52 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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53 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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54 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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55 adverted | |
引起注意(advert的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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56 emigrant | |
adj.移居的,移民的;n.移居外国的人,移民 | |
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57 emigrants | |
n.(从本国移往他国的)移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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58 annually | |
adv.一年一次,每年 | |
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59 industrious | |
adj.勤劳的,刻苦的,奋发的 | |
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60 accustom | |
vt.使适应,使习惯 | |
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61 rigors | |
严格( rigor的名词复数 ); 严酷; 严密; (由惊吓或中毒等导致的身体)僵直 | |
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62 domains | |
n.范围( domain的名词复数 );领域;版图;地产 | |
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63 plunges | |
n.跳进,投入vt.使投入,使插入,使陷入vi.投入,跳进,陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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64 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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65 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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66 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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68 conceals | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69 apprehend | |
vt.理解,领悟,逮捕,拘捕,忧虑 | |
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70 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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71 Augmented | |
adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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72 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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73 amasses | |
v.积累,积聚( amass的第三人称单数 ) | |
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74 populous | |
adj.人口稠密的,人口众多的 | |
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75 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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76 concurred | |
同意(concur的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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77 impaired | |
adj.受损的;出毛病的;有(身体或智力)缺陷的v.损害,削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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79 laborers | |
n.体力劳动者,工人( laborer的名词复数 );(熟练工人的)辅助工 | |
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80 labor | |
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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81 chancellor | |
n.(英)大臣;法官;(德、奥)总理;大学校长 | |
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82 treatise | |
n.专著;(专题)论文 | |
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83 insufficient | |
adj.(for,of)不足的,不够的 | |
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84 rapacity | |
n.贪婪,贪心,劫掠的欲望 | |
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85 proffers | |
v.提供,贡献,提出( proffer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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86 proffer | |
v.献出,赠送;n.提议,建议 | |
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87 goaded | |
v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 );激励;(用尖棒)驱赶;驱使(或怂恿、刺激)某人 | |
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88 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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89 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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90 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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91 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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92 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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93 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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94 natal | |
adj.出生的,先天的 | |
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95 procures | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的第三人称单数 );拉皮条 | |
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96 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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97 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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98 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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99 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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100 vestiges | |
残余部分( vestige的名词复数 ); 遗迹; 痕迹; 毫不 | |
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101 vestige | |
n.痕迹,遗迹,残余 | |
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102 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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103 scatters | |
v.(使)散开, (使)分散,驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 );撒 | |
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104 scatter | |
vt.撒,驱散,散开;散布/播;vi.分散,消散 | |
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105 obliterate | |
v.擦去,涂抹,去掉...痕迹,消失,除去 | |
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106 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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107 coeval | |
adj.同时代的;n.同时代的人或事物 | |
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108 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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109 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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110 attested | |
adj.经检验证明无病的,经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 );证实;声称…属实;使宣誓 | |
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111 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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112 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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113 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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114 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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115 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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116 labors | |
v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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117 sprouted | |
v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 );抽芽;出现;(使)涌现出 | |
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118 props | |
小道具; 支柱( prop的名词复数 ); 支持者; 道具; (橄榄球中的)支柱前锋 | |
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119 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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120 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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121 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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122 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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123 exuberance | |
n.丰富;繁荣 | |
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124 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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125 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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126 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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127 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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128 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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129 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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130 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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131 cupidity | |
n.贪心,贪财 | |
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132 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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133 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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134 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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135 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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136 pristine | |
adj.原来的,古时的,原始的,纯净的,无垢的 | |
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137 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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138 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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139 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
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140 enjoyments | |
愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
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141 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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142 eulogies | |
n.颂词,颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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143 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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144 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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145 patrimonial | |
adj.祖传的 | |
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146 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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147 diffused | |
散布的,普及的,扩散的 | |
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148 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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149 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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150 misuse | |
n.误用,滥用;vt.误用,滥用 | |
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151 agitate | |
vi.(for,against)煽动,鼓动;vt.搅动 | |
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152 engender | |
v.产生,引起 | |
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153 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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154 economist | |
n.经济学家,经济专家,节俭的人 | |
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155 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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156 commonwealths | |
n.共和国( commonwealth的名词复数 );联邦;团体;协会 | |
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157 corroboration | |
n.进一步的证实,进一步的证据 | |
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158 marvelled | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159 uncertainties | |
无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 ); 不确定; 变化不定; 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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160 disperses | |
v.(使)分散( disperse的第三人称单数 );疏散;驱散;散布 | |
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161 disperse | |
vi.使分散;使消失;vt.分散;驱散 | |
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162 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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163 perusal | |
n.细读,熟读;目测 | |
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164 contradictory | |
adj.反驳的,反对的,抗辩的;n.正反对,矛盾对立 | |
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165 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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166 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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167 retrace | |
v.折回;追溯,探源 | |
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168 recapitulate | |
v.节述要旨,择要说明 | |
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169 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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170 mores | |
n.风俗,习惯,民德,道德观念 | |
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171 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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172 profess | |
v.声称,冒称,以...为业,正式接受入教,表明信仰 | |
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173 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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174 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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175 juxtaposition | |
n.毗邻,并置,并列 | |
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176 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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177 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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178 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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179 sect | |
n.派别,宗教,学派,派系 | |
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180 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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181 professing | |
声称( profess的现在分词 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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182 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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183 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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184 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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185 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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186 sects | |
n.宗派,教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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187 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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188 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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189 inflicts | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的第三人称单数 ) | |
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190 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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191 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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192 transfuse | |
v.渗入;灌输;输血 | |
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193 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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194 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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195 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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196 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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197 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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198 consonant | |
n.辅音;adj.[音]符合的 | |
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199 hustings | |
n.竞选活动 | |
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200 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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201 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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202 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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203 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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204 vouchsafe | |
v.惠予,准许 | |
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205 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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206 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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207 consummated | |
v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 );使完美;完婚;(婚礼后的)圆房 | |
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208 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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209 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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210 beseech | |
v.祈求,恳求 | |
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211 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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212 hypocrisy | |
n.伪善,虚伪 | |
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213 conformity | |
n.一致,遵从,顺从 | |
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214 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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215 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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216 conjugal | |
adj.婚姻的,婚姻性的 | |
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217 worthily | |
重要地,可敬地,正当地 | |
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218 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
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219 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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220 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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221 galled | |
v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 );擦伤;烦扰;侮辱 | |
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222 legislative | |
n.立法机构,立法权;adj.立法的,有立法权的 | |
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223 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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224 accustoms | |
v.(使)习惯于( accustom的第三人称单数 ) | |
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225 agitating | |
搅动( agitate的现在分词 ); 激怒; 使焦虑不安; (尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而)激烈争论 | |
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226 derives | |
v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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227 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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228 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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229 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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230 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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231 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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232 surmount | |
vt.克服;置于…顶上 | |
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233 primal | |
adj.原始的;最重要的 | |
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234 immutable | |
adj.不可改变的,永恒的 | |
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235 retard | |
n.阻止,延迟;vt.妨碍,延迟,使减速 | |
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236 circumspect | |
adj.慎重的,谨慎的 | |
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237 recur | |
vi.复发,重现,再发生 | |
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238 durability | |
n.经久性,耐用性 | |
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239 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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240 ostensible | |
adj.(指理由)表面的,假装的 | |
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241 equity | |
n.公正,公平,(无固定利息的)股票 | |
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242 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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243 partisans | |
游击队员( partisan的名词复数 ); 党人; 党羽; 帮伙 | |
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244 maxim | |
n.格言,箴言 | |
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245 permissible | |
adj.可允许的,许可的 | |
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246 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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247 adage | |
n.格言,古训 | |
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248 tyrants | |
专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 ); 暴君似的人; (古希腊的)僭主; 严酷的事物 | |
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249 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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250 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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251 vegetate | |
v.无所事事地过活 | |
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252 emanated | |
v.从…处传出,传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 );产生,表现,显示 | |
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253 stimulated | |
a.刺激的 | |
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254 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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255 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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256 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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257 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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258 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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259 anarchy | |
n.无政府状态;社会秩序混乱,无秩序 | |
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260 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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261 secretion | |
n.分泌 | |
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262 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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263 dictates | |
n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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264 fervor | |
n.热诚;热心;炽热 | |
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265 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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266 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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267 persuasions | |
n.劝说,说服(力)( persuasion的名词复数 );信仰 | |
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268 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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269 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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270 laity | |
n.俗人;门外汉 | |
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271 attentively | |
adv.聚精会神地;周到地;谛;凝神 | |
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272 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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273 abstain | |
v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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274 inveigh | |
v.痛骂 | |
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275 lurk | |
n.潜伏,潜行;v.潜藏,潜伏,埋伏 | |
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276 discourses | |
论文( discourse的名词复数 ); 演说; 讲道; 话语 | |
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277 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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278 furrow | |
n.沟;垄沟;轨迹;车辙;皱纹 | |
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279 eschewed | |
v.(尤指为道德或实际理由而)习惯性避开,回避( eschew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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280 dreads | |
n.恐惧,畏惧( dread的名词复数 );令人恐惧的事物v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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281 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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282 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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283 aberration | |
n.离开正路,脱离常规,色差 | |
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284 invincibly | |
adv.难战胜地,无敌地 | |
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285 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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286 constituent | |
n.选民;成分,组分;adj.组成的,构成的 | |
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287 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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288 aspire | |
vi.(to,after)渴望,追求,有志于 | |
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289 maxims | |
n.格言,座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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290 augments | |
增加,提高,扩大( augment的名词复数 ) | |
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291 forfeits | |
罚物游戏 | |
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292 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
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293 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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294 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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295 repel | |
v.击退,抵制,拒绝,排斥 | |
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296 antagonist | |
n.敌人,对抗者,对手 | |
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297 antagonists | |
对立[对抗] 者,对手,敌手( antagonist的名词复数 ); 对抗肌; 对抗药 | |
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298 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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299 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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300 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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301 onerous | |
adj.繁重的 | |
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302 precarious | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
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303 lethargic | |
adj.昏睡的,懒洋洋的 | |
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304 somnolence | |
n.想睡,梦幻;欲寐;嗜睡;嗜眠 | |
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305 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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306 accrue | |
v.(利息等)增大,增多 | |
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307 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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308 stagnation | |
n. 停滞 | |
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309 inertness | |
n.不活泼,没有生气;惰性;惯量 | |
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310 monarchies | |
n. 君主政体, 君主国, 君主政治 | |
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311 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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312 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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313 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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314 faction | |
n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
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315 renounce | |
v.放弃;拒绝承认,宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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316 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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317 schism | |
n.分派,派系,分裂 | |
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318 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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319 devotedness | |
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320 avow | |
v.承认,公开宣称 | |
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321 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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322 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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323 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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324 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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325 condemn | |
vt.谴责,指责;宣判(罪犯),判刑 | |
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326 lament | |
n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
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327 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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328 variance | |
n.矛盾,不同 | |
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329 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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330 precepts | |
n.规诫,戒律,箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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331 consolations | |
n.安慰,慰问( consolation的名词复数 );起安慰作用的人(或事物) | |
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332 recoil | |
vi.退却,退缩,畏缩 | |
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333 adversaries | |
n.对手,敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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334 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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335 superannuated | |
adj.老朽的,退休的;v.因落后于时代而废除,勒令退学 | |
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336 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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337 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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338 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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339 commentators | |
n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 );时事评论员;注释者;实况广播员 | |
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340 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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341 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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342 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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343 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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344 devoid | |
adj.全无的,缺乏的 | |
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345 rudiments | |
n.基础知识,入门 | |
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346 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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347 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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348 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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349 rusticity | |
n.乡村的特点、风格或气息 | |
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350 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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351 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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352 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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353 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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354 boughs | |
大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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355 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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356 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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357 penetrates | |
v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 );刺入;了解;渗透 | |
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358 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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359 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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360 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
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361 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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362 mechanism | |
n.机械装置;机构,结构 | |
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363 preponderating | |
v.超过,胜过( preponderate的现在分词 ) | |
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364 mitigated | |
v.减轻,缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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365 mightier | |
adj. 强有力的,强大的,巨大的 adv. 很,极其 | |
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366 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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367 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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368 earnings | |
n.工资收人;利润,利益,所得 | |
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369 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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370 vigor | |
n.活力,精力,元气 | |
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371 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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372 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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373 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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374 amalgamated | |
v.(使)(金属)汞齐化( amalgamate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)合并;联合;结合 | |
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375 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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376 authoritative | |
adj.有权威的,可相信的;命令式的;官方的 | |
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377 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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378 geographical | |
adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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379 advantageous | |
adj.有利的;有帮助的 | |
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380 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
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381 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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382 propensity | |
n.倾向;习性 | |
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383 prerogatives | |
n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 );特权;大主教法庭;总督委任组成的法庭 | |
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384 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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385 prudently | |
adv. 谨慎地,慎重地 | |
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386 defective | |
adj.有毛病的,有问题的,有瑕疵的 | |
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387 engendered | |
v.产生(某形势或状况),造成,引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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388 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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389 absurdities | |
n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 );荒谬;谬论;荒谬的行为 | |
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390 counteract | |
vt.对…起反作用,对抗,抵消 | |
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391 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
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392 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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393 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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394 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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395 haven | |
n.安全的地方,避难所,庇护所 | |
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396 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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397 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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398 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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399 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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400 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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401 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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402 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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403 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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404 clement | |
adj.仁慈的;温和的 | |
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405 chary | |
adj.谨慎的,细心的 | |
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406 bulwark | |
n.堡垒,保障,防御 | |
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407 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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408 displease | |
vt.使不高兴,惹怒;n.不悦,不满,生气 | |
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409 chastises | |
v.严惩(某人)(尤指责打)( chastise的第三人称单数 ) | |
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410 parental | |
adj.父母的;父的;母的 | |
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411 royalty | |
n.皇家,皇族 | |
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412 monarchs | |
君主,帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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413 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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414 immunities | |
免除,豁免( immunity的名词复数 ); 免疫力 | |
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415 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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416 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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417 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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418 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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419 precedent | |
n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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420 pliant | |
adj.顺从的;可弯曲的 | |
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421 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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422 corrupted | |
(使)败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)腐化; 引起(计算机文件等的)错误; 破坏 | |
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423 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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424 clemency | |
n.温和,仁慈,宽厚 | |
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425 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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426 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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427 emancipated | |
adj.被解放的,不受约束的v.解放某人(尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚)( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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428 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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429 precedents | |
引用单元; 范例( precedent的名词复数 ); 先前出现的事例; 前例; 先例 | |
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