On this point reasoning may seem to lead to the same result as experience. Amongst a people whose ranks are nearly equal, no ostensible10 bond connects men together, or keeps them settled in their station. None of them have either a permanent right or power to command—none are forced by their condition to obey; but every man, finding himself possessed11 of some education and some resources, may choose his won path and proceed apart from all his fellow-men. The same causes which make the members of the community independent of each other, continually impel12 them to new and restless desires, and constantly spur them onwards. It therefore seems natural that, in a democratic community, men, things, and opinions should be forever changing their form and place, and that democratic ages should be times of rapid and incessant14 transformation2.
But is this really the case? does the equality of social conditions habitually15 and permanently16 lead men to revolution? does that state of society contain some perturbing18 principle which prevents the community from ever subsiding19 into calm, and disposes the citizens to alter incessantly20 their laws, their principles, and their manners? I do not believe it; and as the subject is important, I beg for the reader's close attention. Almost all the revolutions which have changed the aspect of nations have been made to consolidate21 or to destroy social inequality. Remove the secondary causes which have produced the great convulsions of the world, and you will almost always find the principle of inequality at the bottom. Either the poor have attempted to plunder22 the rich, or the rich to enslave the poor. If then a state of society can ever be founded in which every man shall have something to keep, and little to take from others, much will have been done for the peace of the world. I am aware that amongst a great democratic people there will always be some members of the community in great poverty, and others in great opulence23; but the poor, instead of forming the immense majority of the nation, as is always the case in aristocratic communities, are comparatively few in number, and the laws do not bind24 them together by the ties of irremediable and hereditary25 penury26. The wealthy, on their side, are scarce and powerless; they have no privileges which attract public observation; even their wealth, as it is no longer incorporated and bound up with the soil, is impalpable, and as it were invisible. As there is no longer a race of poor men, so there is no longer a race of rich men; the latter spring up daily from the multitude, and relapse into it again. Hence they do not form a distinct class, which may be easily marked out and plundered27; and, moreover, as they are connected with the mass of their fellow-citizens by a thousand secret ties, the people cannot assail28 them without inflicting29 an injury upon itself. Between these two extremes of democratic communities stand an innumerable multitude of men almost alike, who, without being exactly either rich or poor, are possessed of sufficient property to desire the maintenance of order, yet not enough to excite envy. Such men are the natural enemies of violent commotions30: their stillness keeps all beneath them and above them still, and secures the balance of the fabric31 of society. Not indeed that even these men are contented32 with what they have gotten, or that they feel a natural abhorrence33 for a revolution in which they might share the spoil without sharing the calamity34; on the contrary, they desire, with unexampled ardor35, to get rich, but the difficulty is to know from whom riches can be taken. The same state of society which constantly prompts desires, restrains these desires within necessary limits: it gives men more liberty of changing and less interest in change.
Not only are the men of democracies not naturally desirous of revolutions, but they are afraid of them. All revolutions more or less threaten the tenure36 of property: but most of those who live in democratic countries are possessed of property—not only are they possessed of property, but they live in the condition of men who set the greatest store upon their property. If we attentively38 consider each of the classes of which society is composed, it is easy to see that the passions engendered by property are keenest and most tenacious39 amongst the middle classes. The poor often care but little for what they possess, because they suffer much more from the want of what they have not, than they enjoy the little they have. The rich have many other passions besides that of riches to satisfy; and, besides, the long and arduous40 enjoyment41 of a great fortune sometimes makes them in the end insensible to its charms. But the men who have a competency, alike removed from opulence and from penury, attach an enormous value to their possessions. As they are still almost within the reach of poverty, they see its privations near at hand, and dread42 them; between poverty and themselves there is nothing but a scanty43 fortune, upon which they immediately fix their apprehensions45 and their hopes. Every day increases the interest they take in it, by the constant cares which it occasions; and they are the more attached to it by their continual exertions46 to increase the amount. The notion of surrendering the smallest part of it is insupportable to them, and they consider its total loss as the worst of misfortunes. Now these eager and apprehensive48 men of small property constitute the class which is constantly increased by the equality of conditions. Hence, in democratic communities, the majority of the people do not clearly see what they have to gain by a revolution, but they continually and in a thousand ways feel that they might lose by one.
I have shown in another part of this work that the equality of conditions naturally urges men to embark49 in commercial and industrial pursuits, and that it tends to increase and to distribute real property: I have also pointed50 out the means by which it inspires every man with an eager and constant desire to increase his welfare. Nothing is more opposed to revolutionary passions than these things. It may happen that the final result of a revolution is favorable to commerce and manufactures; but its first consequence will almost always be the ruin of manufactures and mercantile men, because it must always change at once the general principles of consumption, and temporarily upset the existing proportion between supply and demand. I know of nothing more opposite to revolutionary manners than commercial manners. Commerce is naturally adverse51 to all the violent passions; it loves to temporize52, takes delight in compromise, and studiously avoids irritation53. It is patient, insinuating54, flexible, and never has recourse to extreme measures until obliged by the most absolute necessity. Commerce renders men independent of each other, gives them a lofty notion of their personal importance, leads them to seek to conduct their own affairs, and teaches how to conduct them well; it therefore prepares men for freedom, but preserves them from revolutions. In a revolution the owners of personal property have more to fear than all others; for on the one hand their property is often easy to seize, and on the other it may totally disappear at any moment—a subject of alarm to which the owners of real property are less exposed, since, although they may lose the income of their estates, they may hope to preserve the land itself through the greatest vicissitudes. Hence the former are much more alarmed at the symptoms of revolutionary commotion than the latter. Thus nations are less disposed to make revolutions in proportion as personal property is augmented55 and distributed amongst them, and as the number of those possessing it increases. Moreover, whatever profession men may embrace, and whatever species of property they may possess, one characteristic is common to them all. No one is fully57 contented with his present fortune—all are perpetually striving in a thousand ways to improve it. Consider any one of them at any period of his life, and he will be found engaged with some new project for the purpose of increasing what he has; talk not to him of the interests and the rights of mankind: this small domestic concern absorbs for the time all his thoughts, and inclines him to defer58 political excitement to some other season. This not only prevents men from making revolutions, but deters59 men from desiring them. Violent political passions have but little hold on those who have devoted60 all their faculties61 to the pursuit of their well-being62. The ardor which they display in small matters calms their zeal63 for momentous64 undertakings65.
From time to time indeed, enterprising and ambitious men will arise in democratic communities, whose unbounded aspirations66 cannot be contented by following the beaten track. Such men like revolutions and hail their approach; but they have great difficulty in bringing them about, unless unwonted events come to their assistance. No man can struggle with advantage against the spirit of his age and country; and, however powerful he may be supposed to be, he will find it difficult to make his contemporaries share in feelings and opinions which are repugnant to t all their feelings and desires.
It is a mistake to believe that, when once the equality of conditions has become the old and uncontested state of society, and has imparted its characteristics to the manners of a nation, men will easily allow themselves to be thrust into perilous67 risks by an imprudent leader or a bold innovator69. Not indeed that they will resist him openly, by well-contrived schemes, or even by a premeditated plan of resistance. They will not struggle energetically against him, sometimes they will even applaud him—but they do not follow him. To his vehemence70 they secretly oppose their inertia71; to his revolutionary tendencies their conservative interests; their homely72 tastes to his adventurous73 passions; their good sense to the flights of his genius; to his poetry their prose. With immense exertion47 he raises them for an instant, but they speedily escape from him, and fall back, as it were, by their own weight. He strains himself to rouse the indifferent and distracted multitude, and finds at last that he is reduced to impotence, not because he is conquered, but because he is alone.
I do not assert that men living in democratic communities are naturally stationary74; I think, on the contrary, that a perpetual stir prevails in the bosom75 of those societies, and that rest is unknown there; but I think that men bestir themselves within certain limits beyond which they hardly ever go. They are forever varying, altering, and restoring secondary matters; but they carefully abstain76 from touching77 what is fundamental. They love change, but they dread revolutions. Although the Americans are constantly modifying or abrogating78 some of their laws, they by no means display revolutionary passions. It may be easily seen, from the promptitude with which they check and calm themselves when public excitement begins to grow alarming, and at the very moment when passions seem most roused, that they dread a revolution as the worst of misfortunes, and that every one of them is inwardly resolved to make great sacrifices to avoid such a catastrophe79. In no country in the world is the love of property more active and more anxious than in the United States; nowhere does the majority display less inclination80 for those principles which threaten to alter, in whatever manner, the laws of property. I have often remarked that theories which are of a revolutionary nature, since they cannot be put in practice without a complete and sometimes a sudden change in the state of property and persons, are much less favorably viewed in the United States than in the great monarchical81 countries of Europe: if some men profess56 them, the bulk of the people reject them with instinctive82 abhorrence. I do not hesitate to say that most of the maxims83 commonly called democratic in France would be proscribed84 by the democracy of the United States. This may easily be understood: in America men have the opinions and passions of democracy, in Europe we have still the passions and opinions of revolution. If ever America undergoes great revolutions, they will be brought about by the presence of the black race on the soil of the United States—that is to say, they will owe their origin, not to the equality, but to the inequality, of conditions.
When social conditions are equal, every man is apt to live apart, centred in himself and forgetful of the public. If the rulers of democratic nations were either to neglect to correct this fatal tendency, or to encourage it from a notion that it weans men from political passions and thus wards13 off revolutions, they might eventually produce the evil they seek to avoid, and a time might come when the inordinate85 passions of a few men, aided by the unintelligent selfishness or the pusillanimity86 of the greater number, would ultimately compel society to pass through strange vicissitudes. In democratic communities revolutions are seldom desired except by a minority; but a minority may sometimes effect them. I do not assert that democratic nations are secure from revolutions; I merely say that the state of society in those nations does not lead to revolutions, but rather wards them off. A democratic people left to itself will not easily embark in great hazards; it is only led to revolutions unawares; it may sometimes undergo them, but it does not make them; and I will add that, when such a people has been allowed to acquire sufficient knowledge and experience, it will not suffer them to be made. I am well aware that it this respect public institutions may themselves do much; they may encourage or repress the tendencies which originate in the state of society. I therefore do not maintain, I repeat, that a people is secure from revolutions simply because conditions are equal in the community; but I think that, whatever the institutions of such a people may be, great revolutions will always be far less violent and less frequent than is supposed; and I can easily discern a state of polity, which, when combined with the principle of equality, would render society more stationary than it has ever been in our western apart of the world.
The observations I have here made on events may also be applied88 in part to opinions. Two things are surprising in the United States—the mutability of the greater part of human actions, and the singular stability of certain principles. Men are in constant motion; the mind of man appears almost unmoved. When once an opinion has spread over the country and struck root there, it would seem that no power on earth is strong enough to eradicate89 it. In the United States, general principles in religion, philosophy, morality, and even politics, do not vary, or at least are only modified by a hidden and often an imperceptible process: even the grossest prejudices are obliterated90 with incredible slowness, amidst the continual friction91 of men and things. I hear it said that it is in the nature and the habits of democracies to be constantly changing their opinions and feelings. This may be true of small democratic nations, like those of the ancient world, in which the whole community could be assembled in a public place and then excited at will by an orator92. But I saw nothing of the kind amongst the great democratic people which dwells upon the opposite shores of the Atlantic Ocean. What struck me in the United States was the difficulty in shaking the majority in an opinion once conceived, or of drawing it off from a leader once adopted. Neither speaking nor writing can accomplish it; nothing but experience will avail, and even experience must be repeated. This is surprising at first sight, but a more attentive37 investigation93 explains the fact. I do not think that it is as easy as is supposed to uproot94 the prejudices of a democratic people—to change its belief—to supersede95 principles once established, by new principles in religion, politics, and morals—in a word, to make great and frequent changes in men's minds. Not that the human mind is there at rest—it is in constant agitation96; but it is engaged in infinitely97 varying the consequences of known principles, and in seeking for new consequences, rather than in seeking for new principles. Its motion is one of rapid circumvolution, rather than of straightforward98 impulse by rapid and direct effort; it extends its orbit by small continual and hasty movements, but it does not suddenly alter its position.
Men who are equal in rights, in education, in fortune, or, to comprise all in one word, in their social condition, have necessarily wants, habits, and tastes which are hardly dissimilar. As they look at objects under the same aspect, their minds naturally tend to analogous99 conclusions; and, though each of them may deviate100 from his contemporaries and from opinions of his own, they will involuntarily and unconsciously concur101 in a certain number of received opinions. The more attentively I consider the effects of equality upon the mind, the more am I persuaded that the intellectual anarchy102 which we witness about us is not, as many men suppose, the natural state of democratic nations. I think it is rather to be regarded as an accident peculiar103 to their youth, and that it only breaks out at that period of transition when men have already snapped the former ties which bound them together, but are still amazingly different in origin, education, and manners; so that, having retained opinions, propensities104 and tastes of great diversity, nothing any longer prevents men from avowing105 them openly. The leading opinions of men become similar in proportion as their conditions assimilate; such appears to me to be the general and permanent law—the rest is casual and transient.
I believe that it will rarely happen to any man amongst a democratic community, suddenly to frame a system of notions very remote from that which his contemporaries have adopted; and if some such innovator appeared, I apprehend106 that he would have great difficulty in finding listeners, still more in finding believers. When the conditions of men are almost equal, they do not easily allow themselves to be persuaded by each other. As they all live in close intercourse107, as they have learned the same things together, and as they lead the same life, they are not naturally disposed to take one of themselves for a guide, and to follow him implicitly108. Men seldom take the opinion of their equal, or of a man like themselves, upon trust. Not only is confidence in the superior attainments109 of certain individuals weakened amongst democratic nations, as I have elsewhere remarked, but the general notion of the intellectual superiority which any man whatsoever110 may acquire in relation to the rest of the community is soon overshadowed. As men grow more like each other, the doctrine111 of the equality of the intellect gradually infuses itself into their opinions; and it becomes more difficult for any innovator to acquire or to exert much influence over the minds of a people. In such communities sudden intellectual revolutions will therefore be rare; for, if we read aright the history of the world, we shall find that great and rapid changes in human opinions have been produced far less by the force of reasoning than by the authority of a name. Observe, too, that as the men who live in democratic societies are not connected with each other by any tie, each of them must be convinced individually; whilst in aristocratic society it is enough to convince a few—the rest follow. If Luther had lived in an age of equality, and had not had princes and potentates112 for his audience, he would perhaps have found it more difficult to change the aspect of Europe. Not indeed that the men of democracies are naturally strongly persuaded of the certainty of their opinions, or are unwavering in belief; they frequently entertain doubts which no one, in their eyes, can remove. It sometimes happens at such times that the human mind would willingly change its position; but as nothing urges or guides it forwards, it oscillates to and fro without progressive motion. *a
a
[ If I inquire what state of society is most favorable to the great revolutions of the mind, I find that it occurs somewhere between the complete equality of the whole community and the absolute separation of ranks. Under a system of castes generations succeed each other without altering men's positions; some have nothing more, others nothing better, to hope for. The imagination slumbers113 amidst this universal silence and stillness, and the very idea of change fades from the human mind. When ranks have been abolished and social conditions are almost equalized, all men are in ceaseless excitement, but each of them stands alone, independent and weak. This latter state of things is excessively different from the former one; yet it has one point of analogy—great revolutions of the human mind seldom occur in it. But between these two extremes of the history of nations is an intermediate period—a period as glorious as it is agitated—when the conditions of men are not sufficiently114 settled for the mind to be lulled115 in torpor116, when they are sufficiently unequal for men to exercise a vast power on the minds of one another, and when some few may modify the convictions of all. It is at such times that great reformers start up, and new opinions suddenly change the face of the world.]
Even when the reliance of a democratic people has been won, it is still no easy matter to gain their attention. It is extremely difficult to obtain a hearing from men living in democracies, unless it be to speak to them of themselves. They do not attend to the things said to them, because they are always fully engrossed117 with the things they are doing. For indeed few men are idle in democratic nations; life is passed in the midst of noise and excitement, and men are so engaged in acting118 that little remains119 to them for thinking. I would especially remark that they are not only employed, but that they are passionately120 devoted to their employments. They are always in action, and each of their actions absorbs their faculties: the zeal which they display in business puts out the enthusiasm they might otherwise entertain for idea. I think that it is extremely difficult to excite the enthusiasm of a democratic people for any theory which has not a palpable, direct, and immediate44 connection with the daily occupations of life: therefore they will not easily forsake121 their old opinions; for it is enthusiasm which flings the minds of men out of the beaten track, and effects the great revolutions of the intellect as well as the great revolutions of the political world. Thus democratic nations have neither time nor taste to go in search of novel opinions. Even when those they possess become doubtful, they still retain them, because it would take too much time and inquiry122 to change them—they retain them, not as certain, but as established.
There are yet other and more cogent123 reasons which prevent any great change from being easily effected in the principles of a democratic people. I have already adverted124 to them at the commencement of this part of my work. If the influence of individuals is weak and hardly perceptible amongst such a people, the power exercised by the mass upon the mind of each individual is extremely great—I have already shown for what reasons. I would now observe that it is wrong to suppose that this depends solely125 upon the form of government, and that the majority would lose its intellectual supremacy126 if it were to lose its political power. In aristocracies men have often much greatness and strength of their own: when they find themselves at variance127 with the greater number of their fellow-countrymen, they withdraw to their own circle, where they support and console themselves. Such is not the case in a democratic country; there public favor seems as necessary as the air we breathe, and to live at variance with the multitude is, as it were, not to live. The multitude requires no laws to coerce128 those who think not like itself: public disapprobation is enough; a sense of their loneliness and impotence overtakes them and drives them to despair.
Whenever social conditions are equal, public opinion presses with enormous weight upon the mind of each individual; it surrounds, directs, and oppresses him; and this arises from the very constitution of society, much more than from its political laws. As men grow more alike, each man feels himself weaker in regard to all the rest; as he discerns nothing by which he is considerably129 raised above them, or distinguished130 from them, he mistrusts himself as soon as they assail him. Not only does he mistrust his strength, but he even doubts of his right; and he is very near acknowledging that he is in the wrong, when the greater number of his countrymen assert that he is so. The majority do not need to constrain131 him—they convince him. In whatever way then the powers of a democratic community may be organized and balanced, it will always be extremely difficult to believe what the bulk of the people reject, or to profess what they condemn132.
This circumstance is extraordinarily133 favorable to the stability of opinions. When an opinion has taken root amongst a democratic people, and established itself in the minds of the bulk of the community, it afterwards subsists134 by itself and is maintained without effort, because no one attacks it. Those who at first rejected it as false, ultimately receive it as the general impression; and those who still dispute it in their hearts, conceal9 their dissent135; they are careful not to engage in a dangerous and useless conflict. It is true, that when the majority of a democratic people change their opinions, they may suddenly and arbitrarily effect strange revolutions in men's minds; but their opinions do not change without much difficulty, and it is almost as difficult to show that they are changed.
Time, events, or the unaided individual action of the mind, will sometimes undermine or destroy an opinion, without any outward sign of the change. It has not been openly assailed136, no conspiracy137 has been formed to make war on it, but its followers138 one by one noiselessly secede—day by day a few of them abandon it, until last it is only professed139 by a minority. In this state it will still continue to prevail. As its enemies remain mute, or only interchange their thoughts by stealth, they are themselves unaware87 for a long period that a great revolution has actually been effected; and in this state of uncertainly they take no steps—they observe each other and are silent. The majority have ceased to believe what they believed before; but they still affect to believe, and this empty phantom140 of public opinion in strong enough to chill innovators, and to keep them silent and at respectful distance. We live at a time which has witnessed the most rapid changes of opinion in the minds of men; nevertheless it may be that the leading opinions of society will ere long be more settled than they have been for several centuries in our history: that time is not yet come, but it may perhaps be approaching. As I examine more closely the natural wants and tendencies of democratic nations, I grow persuaded that if ever social equality is generally and permanently established in the world, great intellectual and political revolutions will become more difficult and less frequent than is supposed. Because the men of democracies appear always excited, uncertain, eager, changeable in their wills and in their positions, it is imagined that they are suddenly to abrogate142 their laws, to adopt new opinions, and to assume new manners. But if the principle of equality predisposes men to change, it also suggests to them certain interests and tastes which cannot be satisfied without a settled order of things; equality urges them on, but at the same time it holds them back; it spurs them, but fastens them to earth;—it kindles143 their desires, but limits their powers. This, however, is not perceived at first; the passions which tend to sever141 the citizens of a democracy are obvious enough; but the hidden force which restrains and unites them is not discernible at a glance.
Amidst the ruins which surround me, shall I dare to say that revolutions are not what I most fear coming generations? If men continue to shut themselves more closely within the narrow circle of domestic interests and to live upon that kind of excitement, it is to be apprehended144 that they may ultimately become inaccessible145 to those great and powerful public emotions which perturb17 nations—but which enlarge them and recruit them. When property becomes so fluctuating, and the love of property so restless and so ardent146, I cannot but fear that men may arrive at such a state as to regard every new theory as a peril68, every innovation as an irksome toil147, every social improvement as a stepping-stone to revolution, and so refuse to move altogether for fear of being moved too far. I dread, and I confess it, lest they should at last so entirely148 give way to a cowardly love of present enjoyment, as to lose sight of the interests of their future selves and of those of their descendants; and to prefer to glide149 along the easy current of life, rather than to make, when it is necessary, a strong and sudden effort to a higher purpose. It is believed by some that modern society will be ever changing its aspect; for myself, I fear that it will ultimately be too invariably fixed150 in the same institutions, the same prejudices, the same manners, so that mankind will be stopped and circumscribed151; that the mind will swing backwards152 and forwards forever, without begetting153 fresh ideas; that man will waste his strength in bootless and solitary154 trifling155; and, though in continual motion, that humanity will cease to advance.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
transformations
|
|
| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
vicissitudes
|
|
| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
engendered
|
|
| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
commotion
|
|
| n.骚动，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
ostensible
|
|
| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
impel
|
|
| v.推动；激励，迫使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
wards
|
|
| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
habitually
|
|
| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
permanently
|
|
| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
perturb
|
|
| v.使不安，烦扰，扰乱，使紊乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
perturbing
|
|
| v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
subsiding
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
consolidate
|
|
| v.使加固，使加强；(把...)联为一体，合并 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
plunder
|
|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
opulence
|
|
| n.财富，富裕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bind
|
|
| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
penury
|
|
| n.贫穷，拮据 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
plundered
|
|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
assail
|
|
| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
inflicting
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
commotions
|
|
| n.混乱，喧闹，骚动( commotion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
31
fabric
|
|
| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
abhorrence
|
|
| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
ardor
|
|
| n.热情，狂热 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
tenure
|
|
| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tenacious
|
|
| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
arduous
|
|
| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
exertions
|
|
| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
apprehensive
|
|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
embark
|
|
| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
adverse
|
|
| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
temporize
|
|
| v.顺应时势；拖延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
insinuating
|
|
| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
Augmented
|
|
| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
profess
|
|
| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
defer
|
|
| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
deters
|
|
| v.阻止，制止( deter的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
well-being
|
|
| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
undertakings
|
|
| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
aspirations
|
|
| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
innovator
|
|
| n.改革者；创新者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
inertia
|
|
| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
stationary
|
|
| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
abstain
|
|
| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
abrogating
|
|
| 废除（法律等）( abrogate的现在分词 )； 取消； 去掉； 抛开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
monarchical
|
|
| adj. 国王的，帝王的，君主的，拥护君主制的 =monarchic | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
instinctive
|
|
| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
maxims
|
|
| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
proscribed
|
|
| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
inordinate
|
|
| adj.无节制的；过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
pusillanimity
|
|
| n.无气力，胆怯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
87
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
eradicate
|
|
| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
friction
|
|
| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
orator
|
|
| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
uproot
|
|
| v.连根拔起，拔除；根除，灭绝；赶出家园，被迫移开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
supersede
|
|
| v.替代；充任 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
straightforward
|
|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
analogous
|
|
| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
deviate
|
|
| v.(from)背离，偏离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
concur
|
|
| v.同意，意见一致，互助，同时发生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
anarchy
|
|
| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
avowing
|
|
| v.公开声明，承认( avow的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
apprehend
|
|
| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
implicitly
|
|
| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
attainments
|
|
| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
whatsoever
|
|
| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
potentates
|
|
| n.君主，统治者( potentate的名词复数 )；有权势的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
slumbers
|
|
| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
lulled
|
|
| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
torpor
|
|
| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
engrossed
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
cogent
|
|
| adj.强有力的，有说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
adverted
|
|
| 引起注意（advert的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
supremacy
|
|
| n.至上；至高权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
variance
|
|
| n.矛盾，不同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
coerce
|
|
| v.强迫，压制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
constrain
|
|
| vt.限制，约束；克制，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
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 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
dissent
|
|
| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
sever
|
|
| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
abrogate
|
|
| v.废止，废除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
kindles
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的第三人称单数 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
apprehended
|
|
| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
inaccessible
|
|
| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
glide
|
|
| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
circumscribed
|
|
| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
begetting
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的现在分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |