In Europe we are at a loss how to judge the true character and the more permanent propensities1 of democracy, because in Europe two conflicting principles exist, and we do not know what to attribute to the principles themselves, and what to refer to the passions which they bring into collision. Such, however, is not the case in America; there the people reigns2 without any obstacle, and it has no perils3 to dread4 and no injuries to avenge5. In America, democracy is swayed by its own free propensities; its course is natural and its activity is unrestrained; the United States consequently afford the most favorable opportunity of studying its real character. And to no people can this inquiry6 be more vitally interesting than to the French nation, which is blindly driven onwards by a daily and irresistible7 impulse towards a state of things which may prove either despotic or republican, but which will assuredly be democratic.
I have already observed that universal suffrage has been adopted in all the States of the union; it consequently occurs amongst different populations which occupy very different positions in the scale of society. I have had opportunities of observing its effects in different localities, and amongst races of men who are nearly strangers to each other by their language, their religion, and their manner of life; in Louisiana as well as in New England, in Georgia and in Canada. I have remarked that Universal Suffrage is far from producing in America either all the good or all the evil consequences which are assigned to it in Europe, and that its effects differ very widely from those which are usually attributed to it.
Choice Of The People, And Instinctive10 Preferences Of The American Democracy
In the United States the most able men are rarely placed at the head of affairs—Reason of this peculiarity—The envy which prevails in the lower orders of France against the higher classes is not a French, but a purely12 democratic sentiment—For what reason the most distinguished13 men in America frequently seclude14 themselves from public affairs.
Many people in Europe are apt to believe without saying it, or to say without believing it, that one of the great advantages of universal suffrage is, that it entrusts15 the direction of public affairs to men who are worthy16 of the public confidence. They admit that the people is unable to govern for itself, but they aver17 that it is always sincerely disposed to promote the welfare of the State, and that it instinctively18 designates those persons who are animated19 by the same good wishes, and who are the most fit to wield20 the supreme21 authority. I confess that the observations I made in America by no means coincide with these opinions. On my arrival in the United States I was surprised to find so much distinguished talent among the subjects, and so little among the heads of the Government. It is a well-authenticated fact, that at the present day the most able men in the United States are very rarely placed at the head of affairs; and it must be acknowledged that such has been the result in proportion as democracy has outstepped all its former limits. The race of American statesmen has evidently dwindled22 most remarkably23 in the course of the last fifty years.
Several causes may be assigned to this phenomenon. It is impossible, notwithstanding the most strenuous24 exertions25, to raise the intelligence of the people above a certain level. Whatever may be the facilities of acquiring information, whatever may be the profusion26 of easy methods and of cheap science, the human mind can never be instructed and educated without devoting a considerable space of time to those objects.
The greater or the lesser27 possibility of subsisting28 without labor29 is therefore the necessary boundary of intellectual improvement. This boundary is more remote in some countries and more restricted in others; but it must exist somewhere as long as the people is constrained30 to work in order to procure31 the means of physical subsistence, that is to say, as long as it retains its popular character. It is therefore quite as difficult to imagine a State in which all the citizens should be very well informed as a State in which they should all be wealthy; these two difficulties may be looked upon as correlative. It may very readily be admitted that the mass of the citizens are sincerely disposed to promote the welfare of their country; nay32 more, it may even be allowed that the lower classes are less apt to be swayed by considerations of personal interest than the higher orders: but it is always more or less impossible for them to discern the best means of attaining33 the end which they desire with sincerity34. Long and patient observation, joined to a multitude of different notions, is required to form a just estimate of the character of a single individual; and can it be supposed that the vulgar have the power of succeeding in an inquiry which misleads the penetration35 of genius itself? The people has neither the time nor the means which are essential to the prosecution36 of an investigation37 of this kind: its conclusions are hastily formed from a superficial inspection38 of the more prominent features of a question. Hence it often assents39 to the clamor of a mountebank40 who knows the secret of stimulating41 its tastes, while its truest friends frequently fail in their exertions.
Moreover, the democracy is not only deficient42 in that soundness of judgment43 which is necessary to select men really deserving of its confidence, but it has neither the desire nor the inclination44 to find them out. It cannot be denied that democratic institutions have a very strong tendency to promote the feeling of envy in the human heart; not so much because they afford to every one the means of rising to the level of any of his fellow-citizens, as because those means perpetually disappoint the persons who employ them. Democratic institutions awaken45 and foster a passion for equality which they can never entirely46 satisfy. This complete equality eludes47 the grasp of the people at the very moment at which it thinks to hold it fast, and "flies," as Pascal says, "with eternal flight"; the people is excited in the pursuit of an advantage, which is more precious because it is not sufficiently48 remote to be unknown, or sufficiently near to be enjoyed. The lower orders are agitated49 by the chance of success, they are irritated by its uncertainty50; and they pass from the enthusiasm of pursuit to the exhaustion51 of ill-success, and lastly to the acrimony of disappointment. Whatever transcends52 their own limits appears to be an obstacle to their desires, and there is no kind of superiority, however legitimate53 it may be, which is not irksome in their sight.
It has been supposed that the secret instinct which leads the lower orders to remove their superiors as much as possible from the direction of public affairs is peculiar11 to France. This, however, is an error; the propensity54 to which I allude55 is not inherent in any particular nation, but in democratic institutions in general; and although it may have been heightened by peculiar political circumstances, it owes its origin to a higher cause.
In the United States the people is not disposed to hate the superior classes of society; but it is not very favorably inclined towards them, and it carefully excludes them from the exercise of authority. It does not entertain any dread of distinguished talents, but it is rarely captivated by them; and it awards its approbation56 very sparingly to such as have risen without the popular support.
Whilst the natural propensities of democracy induce the people to reject the most distinguished citizens as its rulers, these individuals are no less apt to retire from a political career in which it is almost impossible to retain their independence, or to advance without degrading themselves. This opinion has been very candidly57 set forth58 by Chancellor59 Kent, who says, in speaking with great eulogiums of that part of the Constitution which empowers the Executive to nominate the judges: "It is indeed probable that the men who are best fitted to discharge the duties of this high office would have too much reserve in their manners, and too much austerity in their principles, for them to be returned by the majority at an election where universal suffrage is adopted." Such were the opinions which were printed without contradiction in America in the year 1830!
I hold it to be sufficiently demonstrated that universal suffrage is by no means a guarantee of the wisdom of the popular choice, and that, whatever its advantages may be, this is not one of them.
Causes Which May Partly Correct These Tendencies Of The Democracy Contrary effects produced on peoples as well as on individuals by great dangers—Why so many distinguished men stood at the head of affairs in America fifty years ago—Influence which the intelligence and the manners of the people exercise upon its choice—Example of New England—States of the Southwest—Influence of certain laws upon the choice of the people—Election by an elected body—Its effects upon the composition of the Senate.
When a State is threatened by serious dangers, the people frequently succeeds in selecting the citizens who are the most able to save it. It has been observed that man rarely retains his customary level in presence of very critical circumstances; he rises above or he sinks below his usual condition, and the same thing occurs in nations at large. Extreme perils sometimes quench60 the energy of a people instead of stimulating it; they excite without directing its passions, and instead of clearing they confuse its powers of perception. The Jews deluged61 the smoking ruins of their temple with the carnage of the remnant of their host. But it is more common, both in the case of nations and in that of individuals, to find extraordinary virtues62 arising from the very imminence63 of the danger. Great characters are then thrown into relief, as edifices64 which are concealed65 by the gloom of night are illuminated66 by the glare of a conflagration67. At those dangerous times genius no longer abstains68 from presenting itself in the arena69; and the people, alarmed by the perils of its situation, buries its envious70 passions in a short oblivion. Great names may then be drawn71 from the balloting-box.
I have already observed that the American statesmen of the present day are very inferior to those who stood at the head of affairs fifty years ago. This is as much a consequence of the circumstances as of the laws of the country. When America was struggling in the high cause of independence to throw off the yoke72 of another country, and when it was about to usher73 a new nation into the world, the spirits of its inhabitants were roused to the height which their great efforts required. In this general excitement the most distinguished men were ready to forestall74 the wants of the community, and the people clung to them for support, and placed them at its head. But events of this magnitude are rare, and it is from an inspection of the ordinary course of affairs that our judgment must be formed.
If passing occurrences sometimes act as checks upon the passions of democracy, the intelligence and the manners of the community exercise an influence which is not less powerful and far more permanent. This is extremely perceptible in the United States.
In New England the education and the liberties of the communities were engendered75 by the moral and religious principles of their founders76. Where society has acquired a sufficient degree of stability to enable it to hold certain maxims77 and to retain fixed78 habits, the lower orders are accustomed to respect intellectual superiority and to submit to it without complaint, although they set at naught79 all those privileges which wealth and birth have introduced among mankind. The democracy in New England consequently makes a more judicious80 choice than it does elsewhere.
But as we descend81 towards the South, to those States in which the constitution of society is more modern and less strong, where instruction is less general, and where the principles of morality, of religion, and of liberty are less happily combined, we perceive that the talents and the virtues of those who are in authority become more and more rare.
Lastly, when we arrive at the new South-western States, in which the constitution of society dates but from yesterday, and presents an agglomeration82 of adventurers and speculators, we are amazed at the persons who are invested with public authority, and we are led to ask by what force, independent of the legislation and of the men who direct it, the State can be protected, and society be made to flourish.
There are certain laws of a democratic nature which contribute, nevertheless, to correct, in some measure, the dangerous tendencies of democracy. On entering the House of Representatives of Washington one is struck by the vulgar demeanor83 of that great assembly. The eye frequently does not discover a man of celebrity84 within its walls. Its members are almost all obscure individuals whose names present no associations to the mind: they are mostly village lawyers, men in trade, or even persons belonging to the lower classes of society. In a country in which education is very general, it is said that the representatives of the people do not always know how to write correctly.
At a few yards' distance from this spot is the door of the Senate, which contains within a small space a large proportion of the celebrated85 men of America. Scarcely an individual is to be perceived in it who does not recall the idea of an active and illustrious career: the Senate is composed of eloquent86 advocates, distinguished generals, wise magistrates88, and statesmen of note, whose language would at all times do honor to the most remarkable89 parliamentary debates of Europe.
What then is the cause of this strange contrast, and why are the most able citizens to be found in one assembly rather than in the other? Why is the former body remarkable for its vulgarity and its poverty of talent, whilst the latter seems to enjoy a monopoly of intelligence and of sound judgment? Both of these assemblies emanate90 from the people; both of them are chosen by universal suffrage; and no voice has hitherto been heard to assert in America that the Senate is hostile to the interests of the people. From what cause, then, does so startling a difference arise? The only reason which appears to me adequately to account for it is, that the House of Representatives is elected by the populace directly, and that the Senate is elected by elected bodies. The whole body of the citizens names the legislature of each State, and the Federal Constitution converts these legislatures into so many electoral bodies, which return the members of the Senate. The senators are elected by an indirect application of universal suffrage; for the legislatures which name them are not aristocratic or privileged bodies which exercise the electoral franchise91 in their own right; but they are chosen by the totality of the citizens; they are generally elected every year, and new members may constantly be chosen who will employ their electoral rights in conformity92 with the wishes of the public. But this transmission of the popular authority through an assembly of chosen men operates an important change in it, by refining its discretion93 and improving the forms which it adopts. Men who are chosen in this manner accurately94 represent the majority of the nation which governs them; but they represent the elevated thoughts which are current in the community, the propensities which prompt its nobler actions, rather than the petty passions which disturb or the vices95 which disgrace it.
The time may be already anticipated at which the American Republics will be obliged to introduce the plan of election by an elected body more frequently into their system of representation, or they will incur96 no small risk of perishing miserably97 amongst the shoals of democracy.
And here I have no scruple98 in confessing that I look upon this peculiar system of election as the only means of bringing the exercise of political power to the level of all classes of the people. Those thinkers who regard this institution as the exclusive weapon of a party, and those who fear, on the other hand, to make use of it, seem to me to fall into as great an error in the one case as in the other.
Influence Which The American Democracy Has Exercised On The Laws Relating To Elections
When elections are rare, they expose the State to a violent crisis—When they are frequent, they keep up a degree of feverish99 excitement—The Americans have preferred the second of these two evils—Mutability of the laws—Opinions of Hamilton and Jefferson on this subject.
When elections recur100 at long intervals101 the State is exposed to violent agitation102 every time they take place. Parties exert themselves to the utmost in order to gain a prize which is so rarely within their reach; and as the evil is almost irremediable for the candidates who fail, the consequences of their disappointed ambition may prove most disastrous104; if, on the other hand, the legal struggle can be repeated within a short space of time, the defeated parties take patience. When elections occur frequently, their recurrence105 keeps society in a perpetual state of feverish excitement, and imparts a continual instability to public affairs.
Thus, on the one hand the State is exposed to the perils of a revolution, on the other to perpetual mutability; the former system threatens the very existence of the Government, the latter is an obstacle to all steady and consistent policy. The Americans have preferred the second of these evils to the first; but they were led to this conclusion by their instinct much more than by their reason; for a taste for variety is one of the characteristic passions of democracy. An extraordinary mutability has, by this means, been introduced into their legislation. Many of the Americans consider the instability of their laws as a necessary consequence of a system whose general results are beneficial. But no one in the United States affects to deny the fact of this instability, or to contend that it is not a great evil.
Hamilton, after having demonstrated the utility of a power which might prevent, or which might at least impede106, the promulgation107 of bad laws, adds: "It might perhaps be said that the power of preventing bad laws includes that of preventing good ones, and may be used to the one purpose as well as to the other. But this objection will have little weight with those who can properly estimate the mischiefs108 of that inconstancy and mutability in the laws which form the greatest blemish109 in the character and genius of our governments." (Federalist, No. 73.) And again in No. 62 of the same work he observes: "The facility and excess of law-making seem to be the diseases to which our governments are most liable. . . . The mischievous110 effects of the mutability in the public councils arising from a rapid succession of new members would fill a volume: every new election in the States is found to change one-half of the representatives. From this change of men must proceed a change of opinions and of measures, which forfeits111 the respect and confidence of other nations, poisons the blessings112 of liberty itself, and diminishes the attachment113 and reverence114 of the people toward a political system which betrays so many marks of infirmity."
Jefferson himself, the greatest Democrat8 whom the democracy of America has yet produced, pointed103 out the same evils. "The instability of our laws," said he in a letter to Madison, "is really a very serious inconvenience. I think that we ought to have obviated115 it by deciding that a whole year should always be allowed to elapse between the bringing in of a bill and the final passing of it. It should afterward116 be discussed and put to the vote without the possibility of making any alteration117 in it; and if the circumstances of the case required a more speedy decision, the question should not be decided118 by a simple majority, but by a majority of at least two-thirds of both houses."
Public Officers Under The Control Of The Democracy In America Simple exterior119 of the American public officers—No official costume—All public officers are remunerated—Political consequences of this system—No public career exists in America—Result of this.
Public officers in the United States are commingled120 with the crowd of citizens; they have neither palaces, nor guards, nor ceremonial costumes. This simple exterior of the persons in authority is connected not only with the peculiarities121 of the American character, but with the fundamental principles of that society. In the estimation of the democracy a government is not a benefit, but a necessary evil. A certain degree of power must be granted to public officers, for they would be of no use without it. But the ostensible122 semblance123 of authority is by no means indispensable to the conduct of affairs, and it is needlessly offensive to the susceptibility of the public. The public officers themselves are well aware that they only enjoy the superiority over their fellow-citizens which they derive124 from their authority upon condition of putting themselves on a level with the whole community by their manners. A public officer in the United States is uniformly civil, accessible to all the world, attentive125 to all requests, and obliging in his replies. I was pleased by these characteristics of a democratic government; and I was struck by the manly126 independence of the citizens, who respect the office more than the officer, and who are less attached to the emblems127 of authority than to the man who bears them.
I am inclined to believe that the influence which costumes really exercise, in an age like that in which we live, has been a good deal exaggerated. I never perceived that a public officer in America was the less respected whilst he was in the discharge of his duties because his own merit was set off by no adventitious128 signs. On the other hand, it is very doubtful whether a peculiar dress contributes to the respect which public characters ought to have for their own position, at least when they are not otherwise inclined to respect it. When a magistrate87 (and in France such instances are not rare) indulges his trivial wit at the expense of the prisoner, or derides129 the predicament in which a culprit is placed, it would be well to deprive him of his robes of office, to see whether he would recall some portion of the natural dignity of mankind when he is reduced to the apparel of a private citizen.
A democracy may, however, allow a certain show of magisterial130 pomp, and clothe its officers in silks and gold, without seriously compromising its principles. Privileges of this kind are transitory; they belong to the place, and are distinct from the individual: but if public officers are not uniformly remunerated by the State, the public charges must be entrusted131 to men of opulence132 and independence, who constitute the basis of an aristocracy; and if the people still retains its right of election, that election can only be made from a certain class of citizens. When a democratic republic renders offices which had formerly133 been remunerated gratuitous134, it may safely be believed that the State is advancing to monarchical135 institutions; and when a monarchy136 begins to remunerate such officers as had hitherto been unpaid137, it is a sure sign that it is approaching toward a despotic or a republican form of government. The substitution of paid for unpaid functionaries138 is of itself, in my opinion, sufficient to constitute a serious revolution.
I look upon the entire absence of gratuitous functionaries in America as one of the most prominent signs of the absolute dominion139 which democracy exercises in that country. All public services, of whatsoever140 nature they may be, are paid; so that every one has not merely the right, but also the means of performing them. Although, in democratic States, all the citizens are qualified141 to occupy stations in the Government, all are not tempted142 to try for them. The number and the capacities of the candidates are more apt to restrict the choice of electors than the connections of the candidateship.
In nations in which the principle of election extends to every place in the State no political career can, properly speaking, be said to exist. Men are promoted as if by chance to the rank which they enjoy, and they are by no means sure of retaining it. The consequence is that in tranquil143 times public functions offer but few lures144 to ambition. In the United States the persons who engage in the perplexities of political life are individuals of very moderate pretensions145. The pursuit of wealth generally diverts men of great talents and of great passions from the pursuit of power, and it very frequently happens that a man does not undertake to direct the fortune of the State until he has discovered his incompetence146 to conduct his own affairs. The vast number of very ordinary men who occupy public stations is quite as attributable to these causes as to the bad choice of the democracy. In the United States, I am not sure that the people would return the men of superior abilities who might solicit147 its support, but it is certain that men of this description do not come forward.
Arbitrary Power Of Magistrates Under The Rule Of The American Democracy
For what reason the arbitrary power of Magistrates is greater in absolute monarchies148 and in democratic republics than it is in limited monarchies—Arbitrary power of the Magistrates in New England.
In two different kinds of government the magistrates *a exercise a considerable degree of arbitrary power; namely, under the absolute government of a single individual, and under that of a democracy. This identical result proceeds from causes which are nearly analogous149.
a
[ I here use the word magistrates in the widest sense in which it can be taken; I apply it to all the officers to whom the execution of the laws is intrusted.]
In despotic States the fortune of no citizen is secure; and public officers are not more safe than private individuals. The sovereign, who has under his control the lives, the property, and sometimes the honor of the men whom he employs, does not scruple to allow them a great latitude150 of action, because he is convinced that they will not use it to his prejudice. In despotic States the sovereign is so attached to the exercise of his power, that he dislikes the constraint151 even of his own regulations; and he is well pleased that his agents should follow a somewhat fortuitous line of conduct, provided he be certain that their actions will never counteract152 his desires.
In democracies, as the majority has every year the right of depriving the officers whom it has appointed of their power, it has no reason to fear any abuse of their authority. As the people is always able to signify its wishes to those who conduct the Government, it prefers leaving them to make their own exertions to prescribing an invariable rule of conduct which would at once fetter153 their activity and the popular authority.
It may even be observed, on attentive consideration, that under the rule of a democracy the arbitrary power of the magistrate must be still greater than in despotic States. In the latter the sovereign has the power of punishing all the faults with which he becomes acquainted, but it would be vain for him to hope to become acquainted with all those which are committed. In the former the sovereign power is not only supreme, but it is universally present. The American functionaries are, in point of fact, much more independent in the sphere of action which the law traces out for them than any public officer in Europe. Very frequently the object which they are to accomplish is simply pointed out to them, and the choice of the means is left to their own discretion.
In New England, for instance, the selectmen of each township are bound to draw up the list of persons who are to serve on the jury; the only rule which is laid down to guide them in their choice is that they are to select citizens possessing the elective franchise and enjoying a fair reputation. *b In France the lives and liberties of the subjects would be thought to be in danger if a public officer of any kind was entrusted with so formidable a right. In New England the same magistrates are empowered to post the names of habitual154 drunkards in public-houses, and to prohibit the inhabitants of a town from supplying them with liquor. *c A censorial155 power of this excessive kind would be revolting to the population of the most absolute monarchies; here, however, it is submitted to without difficulty.
b
[ See the Act of February 27, 1813. "General Collection of the Laws of Massachusetts," vol. ii. p. 331. It should be added that the jurors are afterwards drawn from these lists by lot.]
c
[ See Act of February 28, 1787. "General Collection of the Laws of Massachusetts," vol. i. p. 302.]
Nowhere has so much been left by the law to the arbitrary determination of the magistrate as in democratic republics, because this arbitrary power is unattended by any alarming consequences. It may even be asserted that the freedom of the magistrate increases as the elective franchise is extended, and as the duration of the time of office is shortened. Hence arises the great difficulty which attends the conversion156 of a democratic republic into a monarchy. The magistrate ceases to be elective, but he retains the rights and the habits of an elected officer, which lead directly to despotism.
It is only in limited monarchies that the law, which prescribes the sphere in which public officers are to act, superintends all their measures. The cause of this may be easily detected. In limited monarchies the power is divided between the King and the people, both of whom are interested in the stability of the magistrate. The King does not venture to place the public officers under the control of the people, lest they should be tempted to betray his interests; on the other hand, the people fears lest the magistrates should serve to oppress the liberties of the country, if they were entirely dependent upon the Crown; they cannot therefore be said to depend on either one or the other. The same cause which induces the king and the people to render public officers independent suggests the necessity of such securities as may prevent their independence from encroaching upon the authority of the former and the liberties of the latter. They consequently agree as to the necessity of restricting the functionary157 to a line of conduct laid down beforehand, and they are interested in confining him by certain regulations which he cannot evade158.
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1 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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2 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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3 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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4 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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5 avenge | |
v.为...复仇,为...报仇 | |
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6 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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7 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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8 democrat | |
n.民主主义者,民主人士;民主党党员 | |
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9 suffrage | |
n.投票,选举权,参政权 | |
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10 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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11 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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12 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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13 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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14 seclude | |
vi.使隔离,使孤立,使隐退 | |
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15 entrusts | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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17 aver | |
v.极力声明;断言;确证 | |
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18 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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19 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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20 wield | |
vt.行使,运用,支配;挥,使用(武器等) | |
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21 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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22 dwindled | |
v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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24 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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25 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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26 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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27 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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28 subsisting | |
v.(靠很少的钱或食物)维持生活,生存下去( subsist的现在分词 ) | |
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29 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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30 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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31 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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32 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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33 attaining | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的现在分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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34 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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35 penetration | |
n.穿透,穿人,渗透 | |
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36 prosecution | |
n.起诉,告发,检举,执行,经营 | |
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37 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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38 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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39 assents | |
同意,赞同( assent的名词复数 ) | |
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40 mountebank | |
n.江湖郎中;骗子 | |
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41 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
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42 deficient | |
adj.不足的,不充份的,有缺陷的 | |
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43 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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44 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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45 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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46 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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47 eludes | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的第三人称单数 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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48 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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49 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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50 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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51 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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52 transcends | |
超出或超越(经验、信念、描写能力等)的范围( transcend的第三人称单数 ); 优于或胜过… | |
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53 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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54 propensity | |
n.倾向;习性 | |
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55 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
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56 approbation | |
n.称赞;认可 | |
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57 candidly | |
adv.坦率地,直率而诚恳地 | |
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58 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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59 chancellor | |
n.(英)大臣;法官;(德、奥)总理;大学校长 | |
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60 quench | |
vt.熄灭,扑灭;压制 | |
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61 deluged | |
v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 );淹没;被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没;穷于应付 | |
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62 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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63 imminence | |
n.急迫,危急 | |
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64 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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65 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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66 illuminated | |
adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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67 conflagration | |
n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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68 abstains | |
戒(尤指酒),戒除( abstain的第三人称单数 ); 弃权(不投票) | |
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69 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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70 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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71 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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72 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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73 usher | |
n.带位员,招待员;vt.引导,护送;vi.做招待,担任引座员 | |
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74 forestall | |
vt.抢在…之前采取行动;预先阻止 | |
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75 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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76 founders | |
n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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77 maxims | |
n.格言,座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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78 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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79 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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80 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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81 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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82 agglomeration | |
n.结聚,一堆 | |
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83 demeanor | |
n.行为;风度 | |
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84 celebrity | |
n.名人,名流;著名,名声,名望 | |
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85 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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86 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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87 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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88 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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89 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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90 emanate | |
v.发自,来自,出自 | |
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91 franchise | |
n.特许,特权,专营权,特许权 | |
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92 conformity | |
n.一致,遵从,顺从 | |
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93 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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94 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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95 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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96 incur | |
vt.招致,蒙受,遭遇 | |
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97 miserably | |
adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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98 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
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99 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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100 recur | |
vi.复发,重现,再发生 | |
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101 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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102 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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103 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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104 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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105 recurrence | |
n.复发,反复,重现 | |
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106 impede | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,阻止 | |
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107 promulgation | |
n.颁布 | |
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108 mischiefs | |
损害( mischief的名词复数 ); 危害; 胡闹; 调皮捣蛋的人 | |
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109 blemish | |
v.损害;玷污;瑕疵,缺点 | |
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110 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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111 forfeits | |
罚物游戏 | |
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112 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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113 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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114 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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115 obviated | |
v.避免,消除(贫困、不方便等)( obviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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117 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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118 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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119 exterior | |
adj.外部的,外在的;表面的 | |
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120 commingled | |
v.混合,掺和,合并( commingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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122 ostensible | |
adj.(指理由)表面的,假装的 | |
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123 semblance | |
n.外貌,外表 | |
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124 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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125 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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126 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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127 emblems | |
n.象征,标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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128 adventitious | |
adj.偶然的 | |
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129 derides | |
v.取笑,嘲笑( deride的第三人称单数 ) | |
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130 magisterial | |
adj.威风的,有权威的;adv.威严地 | |
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131 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132 opulence | |
n.财富,富裕 | |
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133 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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134 gratuitous | |
adj.无偿的,免费的;无缘无故的,不必要的 | |
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135 monarchical | |
adj. 国王的,帝王的,君主的,拥护君主制的 =monarchic | |
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136 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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137 unpaid | |
adj.未付款的,无报酬的 | |
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138 functionaries | |
n.公职人员,官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
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139 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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140 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
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141 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
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142 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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143 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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144 lures | |
吸引力,魅力(lure的复数形式) | |
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145 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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146 incompetence | |
n.不胜任,不称职 | |
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147 solicit | |
vi.勾引;乞求;vt.请求,乞求;招揽(生意) | |
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148 monarchies | |
n. 君主政体, 君主国, 君主政治 | |
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149 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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150 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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151 constraint | |
n.(on)约束,限制;限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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152 counteract | |
vt.对…起反作用,对抗,抵消 | |
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153 fetter | |
n./vt.脚镣,束缚 | |
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154 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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155 censorial | |
监察官的,审查员的 | |
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156 conversion | |
n.转化,转换,转变 | |
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157 functionary | |
n.官员;公职人员 | |
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158 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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