The feudal6 Government, whose ruins still sheltered the nation, had been a government in which arbitrary power, violence, and great freedom were commingled7. Under its laws, if actions had often been restricted, speech was habitually8 independent and bold. The legislative10 power was exercised by kings, but never without control. When the great political assemblies of France ceased to be, the Parliaments took, in some sort, the place of them; and before they enregistered in the code that regulated their judicial11 proceedings12 a new law decreed by the King, they stated to the sovereign their objections, and made known to him their opinions.
Much inquiry15 has been made as to the first origin of this usurpation16 of legislative power by judicial authority. It is vain to seek that origin elsewhere than in the general manners of the time, which could not tolerate, or even conceive, a power so absolute and secret, as not, at least, to admit of discussion on the terms of obedience17. The institution was in nowise premeditated. It sprang spontaneously from the very root of the ideas then prevalent and from the usages alike of subjects and of kings.
An edict, before it was put in force, was sent down to the Parliament. The agents of the Crown explained its principles and its merits; the magistrates18 discussed it. All this was done in public, in open debate, with that virility19 which characterised all the institutions of the Middle Ages. It frequently happened that the Parliament sent deputies to the King, several times over, to supplicate21 him to modify or withdraw an edict. If the King came down in person, he allowed his own law to be debated with vivacity22, sometimes with violence, in his presence. But when at last his will was made known, all was silence and obedience: for the magistracy acknowledged that they were no more than the first officers and representatives of the sovereign; their duty was to advise but not to coerce23 him.
In 1787, the ancient precedents24 of the monarchy were faithfully[206] and strictly25 followed. The old machine of Royal government was again set in motion: but it became apparent that the machine was propelled by some new motive26 power of an unknown kind, which, instead of causing it to move onwards, was about to break it in pieces.
The King then, according to custom, caused the new edicts to be brought down to the Parliament: and the Parliament, equally according to custom, laid its humble27 remonstrance28 at the steps of the throne.[98]
The King replied; and Parliaments insisted. For centuries things had gone on thus, and the nation heard from time to time this sort of political dialogue carried on above its head between the sovereign and his magistrates. The practice had only been interrupted during the reign14 of Louis XIV. and for a time. But the novelty lay in the subject of the debate and the nature of the arguments.
This time the Parliament, before it proceeded to register the edicts, called for all the accounts of the finance department, which we should now call the budget of the State, in support of the measures; and as the King naturally declined to hand over the entire government to a body which was irresponsible and non-elected, and so to share the legislative power with a Court of Justice, the Parliament then declared that the nation alone had the right to raise fresh taxes,[99] and thereupon demanded that the nation should be convoked30. The Parliament grasped the very heart of the people, but held it only for a moment.
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The arguments put forward by the Magistracy in support of their demands were not less novel than the demands themselves. The King, they said, was only the administrator31 and not the owner of the public fortune: the representative and chief officer of the nation, not its master. Sovereignty resided in the nation itself. The nation alone could decide great questions: its rights were not dependent on the will of the sovereign; they took their being from the nature of man; they were as inalienable and indestructible as human nature itself. ‘The institution of the States-General,’ they declared, ‘is a principle founded on the rights of man and confirmed by reason.’[100] ‘Common interest has combined men in society, and given rise to governments: that alone can maintain them.’[101] ‘No prescription32 of the States-General can run against the nature of things or against the imperishable rights of the nation.’[102] ‘Public opinion is rarely mistaken: it is rare that men receive impressions contrary to truth.’[103]
The King having exiled the Parliament from Paris, that body protested that liberty of speech and action was an inalienable right of man, and could not be wrested33 from him without tyranny, save by the regular forms of judicial procedure.
It must not be supposed that the Parliaments alleged34 these principles as novelties:[104] they were, on the contrary, very industriously35 traced up to the cradle of the monarchy. The judgments36 or decrees of the Parliament of Paris were crammed37 with historical quotations38, frequently borrowed from the Middle Ages, in barbarous Latin. They are full of provincial39 capitulations, royal ordinances40, beds of justice, rules, privileges, and precedents, which lost themselves in the shadows of the past.
Strangely enough, at the same moment that the Parliament of Franche-Comté proclaimed the indestructible rights of the nation, it protested against any infraction41 of the peculiar42 privileges of the province as they existed at the period of annexation43 under Louis XIV. So again the Parliament of Normandy invoked44 the States-General of the kingdom ‘to inaugurate a new order of things,’ but not the[208] less did it demand, in the name of its own feudal traditions, the restoration of the States of Normandy, as the peculiar privilege of that province: so curiously45 were ideas, just born into the world, enclosed and swathed in these remains46 of antiquity47.
It was a tradition of the old monarchy that the Parliament should use in its remonstrances48 animated49 and almost violent language: a certain exaggeration of words was conceded to it. The most absolute sovereigns had tolerated this licence of speech, by reason, indeed, of the powerlessness of those who uttered it: as they were certain in the end to be reduced to obedience and compressed within narrow limits, the indulgence of a free utterance50 was readily left to them. The Parliament, moreover, was wont51 to make a great deal of noise for a small result: what it said went beyond what it meant: this franchise52 had become a sort of right of the magistracy.
On this occasion the Parliament carried their ancient freedom to a degree of licence never heard before; for a new-born fire was burning in their hearts and unconsciously inflamed53 their language. Certainly, among the governments of our own time, which are almost all, nevertheless, governments maintained by the sword, not one could allow its ministers and its measures to be attacked in such terms by the representatives of its own authority.
‘Despotism, Sire,’ said the Parliament of Paris, ‘is substituted for the laws of the realm, and the magistracy is no more than the instrument of arbitrary power.... Would that Your Majesty54 could interrogate55 the victims of that power, confined forgotten in impenetrable prisons, the abode56 of silence and injustice57; those whom intrigue58, cupidity59, the jealousy60 of power, the thirst of vengeance61, the fear or the hatred62 of justice, private pique63 or personal convenience, have caused to be put there.’ Then drawing a parallel between two citizens, one rich and the other poor, the latter being oppressed by the former, the Parliament added—‘Is indigence64 then a crime? Have flesh and blood no claims? Does a man without credit, or a poor man, cease to be a citizen?’
It was especially on the subject of taxation65 and against the collectors of the revenue that, even in the calmest times, the judicial bodies were accustomed to inveigh66 with extreme violence. No sooner was the new tax announced than the Parliament of Paris declared it to be disastrous67; consternation68 followed the proposal; its adoption69 would give rise to a general mourning.[105] The population, harassed70 by fiscal71 exactions, were at their wits’ end.[209][106] To arrogate72 to one’s self the power of levying73 tribute without the States-General was to declare aloud that the sovereign seeks not to be a king of France, but a king of serfs.[107] The substance of the people was become the prey74 of the cupidity of courtiers and the rapacity75 of contractors76.[108]
Great as was the excitement of that time, it would still be very difficult to account for the language of these magistrates without recalling what had been said so many times before on the same subject. As under the old monarchy most of the taxes were levied77 on account of private persons, who held them on farm, or by their agents; for centuries past men had accustomed themselves to look upon taxation as it bore on the private emolument78 of certain individuals, and not as the common income of the nation. Taxes were commonly denounced as odious79 exactions. The salt duty was styled the infernal machine of the gabelle: those who collected the taxes were spoken of as public robbers, enriched by the poverty of everybody else. So said the tax-payers; the courts of justice held the same language; and even the Government, which had leased to these very farmers the rights they exercised, scarcely spoke80 differently of them. It seemed as if their business was not its own, and that it sought a way of escape amidst the clamour which pursued its own agents.
When, therefore, the Parliament of Paris spoke in this manner on the subject of taxes, it merely followed an old and general practice. The play was the same, but the audience was changed; and the clamour, instead of dying away as it had commonly done within the limit of the classes whom their privileges caused to be but little affected82 by taxation, was now so loud and so reiterated83 that it penetrated84 to those classes which bore the heaviest burden, and ere long filled them with indignation.
If the Parliament employed new arguments to vindicate85 its own rights, the Government employed arguments not less new in defence of its ancient prerogatives86. For example, in a pamphlet attributed to the Court, which appeared about that time, the following passage occurs:—‘It is a question of privilege which excites the Parliament. They want to retain their exemption87 from taxation; this is nothing but a formidable combination between the nobility of sword and gown to continue under colour of liberty to humble and enslave the commons, whom the King alone defends, and means to raise.’[109]
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‘My object has been’ said Calonne, ‘to slay88 the hydra89 of privileges, exemptions90, and abuses.’[110]
Whilst, however, these discussions were going on upon the principle of government, the daily work of administration threatened to stop: there was no money. The Parliament had rejected the measures relating to taxation. It refused to sanction a loan. In this perplexity the King, seeing that he could not gain over the Assembly, attempted to coerce it. He went down to the Chamber91, and before he proceeded to command their submission92, less eager to exercise his rights than to confirm them, he caused the Edicts to be again debated in his presence. He began by laying down that his authority was absolute. The legislative power resided in its integrity in his hands. He required no extraordinary powers to carry on the government. The States-General, when he chose to consult them, could only tender advice; he was still the supreme93 arbiter94 of their representations and their grievances95. This sitting took place on November 19th, 1787. Having said thus much, every one was allowed to speak in his presence. The most opposite and often violent propositions were asserted to his face during a discussion of eight hours; after which he withdrew, declaring, as his last word, that he refused to convoke29 the States-General at present, though he promised them for the year 1791.
Yet, after having thus suffered his most acknowledged and least formidable rights to be contested in his own presence, the King resolved to resume the exercise of those which were most disputed and most unpopular. His own act had opened the mouths of the speakers, but he sought to punish them for having spoken. In one of its remonstrances the Parliament of Paris had said, ‘Sire, the French monarchy would be reduced to a state of despotism if, under the King’s authority, Ministers could dispose of personal freedom by lettres de cachet, and of the rights of property by lits de justice, of civil and criminal affairs by scire facias,[111] and of the judicature itself by partial exile or by the arbitrary translation of judges.’
To which the King replied: ‘If the greater number of votes in my Courts can constrain96 my will, the monarchy would become a mere81 aristocracy of magistrates.’ ‘Sire,’ rejoined the Parliament, ‘no aristocracy in France, but no despotism.’[112]
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Two men, in the course of this struggle, had especially distinguished97 themselves by the boldness of their speeches and by their revolutionary attitude: these were M. Goislard and M. d’Eprémenil. It was resolved to arrest them. Then occurred a scene, the prelude98, so to speak, of the great tragedy that was to follow, well calculated to exhibit an easy-going Government under the aspect of tyranny.
Informed of the resolution taken against them, these two magistrates left their homes, and took refuge in the Parliament itself, in the full dress of their Order, where they were lost amidst the crowd of judges forming that great body. The Palace of Justice was surrounded by troops, and the doors guarded. Viscount d’Agoult, who commanded them, appeared alone in the great Chamber. The whole Parliament was assembled, and sitting in the most solemn form. The number of the judges, the venerable antiquity of the Court, the dignity of their dress, the simplicity99 of their demeanour, the extent of their power, the majesty of the very hall, filled with all the memorials of our history, all contributed to make the Parliament the greatest and most honoured thing in France, after the Throne.
In presence of such an Assembly the officer stood at first at gaze. He was asked who sent him there. He answered in rough but embarrassed accents, and demanded that the two members whom he was ordered to arrest should be pointed100 out to him. The Parliament sat motionless and silent. The officer withdrew—re-entered—then withdrew again; the Parliament, still motionless and silent, neither resisting nor yielding. The time of year was that when the days are shortest. Night came on. The troops lit fires round the approaches to the Palace, as round a besieged101 fort. The populace, astonished by so unwonted a sight, surrounded them in crowds, but stood aloof102: the populace was touched but not yet excited, and therefore stood aloof to contemplate103, by the light of those bivouac fires, a scene so new and unwonted under the monarchy. For there it might see how the oldest Government in Europe applied104 itself to teach the people to outrage105 the majesty of the oldest institutions, and to violate in their sanctuary106 the most august of ancient powers.
This lasted till midnight, when D’Eprémenil at last rose. He thanked the Parliament for the effort it had made to save him. He declined to trespass107 longer on the generous sympathy of his colleagues. He commended the commonwealth108 and his children to their care, and, descending109 the steps of the court, surrendered himself to the officer. It seemed as if he was leaving that assembly[212] to mount the scaffold. The scaffold, indeed, he was one day to mount, but that was in other times and under other powers. The only living witness of this strange scene, Duke Pasquier, has told me that at these words of D’Eprémenil the whole Assembly burst into tears, as if it had been Regulus marching out of Rome to return to the horrid110 death which awaited him in Carthage. The Marshal de Noailles sobbed111 aloud. Alas112! how many tears were ere long to be shed on loftier woes113 than these. Such grief was no doubt exaggerated, but not unreal. At the commencement of a revolution the vivacity of emotions greatly exceeds the importance of events, as at the close of revolutions it falls short of them.
Having thus struck a blow at the whole body of the Parliaments, represented by their chief, it only remained to annihilate114 their power. Six edicts were simultaneously115 published.[113] These edicts, which roused all France, were designed to effect several of the most important and useful reforms which the Revolution has since accomplished116: the separation of the legislative and judicial powers, the abolition117 of exceptional courts of justice, and the establishment of all the principles which, to this day, govern the judicial organisation118 of France, both civil and criminal. All these reforms were conceived in the true spirit of the age, and met the real and lasting119 wants of society. But, as they were aimed at the privileged jurisdiction120 of the Parliaments, they struck down the idol121 of the hour, and they emanated122 from a power which was detested123. That was enough. In the eyes of the nation these new edicts were a triumph of absolute government. The time had not yet come when everything may be pardoned by democracy to despotism in exchange for order and equality. In a moment the nation rose. Each Parliament became at once a focus of resistance round which the Orders of the province grouped themselves, so as[213] to present a firm front to the action of the central power of government.
France was at that time divided, as is well known, into thirteen judicial provinces, each of which was attached to a Parliament. All these Parliaments were absolutely independent of one another, all of them had equal prerogatives, all of them were invested with the same right of discussing the mandates124 of the legislator before submitting to them. This organisation will be seen to have been natural, on looking back to the time when most of these courts of justice were founded. The different parts of France were so dissimilar in their interests, their disposition125, their customs, and their manners, that the same legislation could not be applied to all of them at once. As a distinct law was usually enacted126 for each province, it was natural that in each province there should be a Parliament whose duty it was to test this law. In more recent times, the French having become more similar, one law sufficed for all: but the right of testing the law remained divided.
An edict of the King applying equally to the whole of France, after it had been accepted and executed in a certain manner in one part of the territory, might still be modified or contested in the twelve other parts. That was the right, but that was not the custom. For a long period of time the separate Parliaments had ceased to contest anything, save the administrative127 rules, which might be peculiar to their own province. They did not debate the general laws of the kingdom, unless the peculiar interests of their own province seemed to be affected by some one of their provisions. As for the principle of such laws, their opportunity or efficiency, these were considerations they did not commonly entertain. On these points they were wont to rely on the Parliament of Paris, which, by a sort of tacit agreement, was looked up to by all the other Parliaments as their political guide.
On this occasion each Parliament chose to examine these edicts, as if they concerned its own province alone, and as if it had been the sole representative of France; each province chose, too, to distinguish itself by a separate resistance in the midst of the general resistance they encountered. All of these discussed the principle of each edict, as well as its special application. A clause which had been accepted without difficulty by one of these bodies was obstinately129 opposed elsewhere: one of them barely notices what called forth130 the indignation of another. Assailed131 by thirteen adversaries132 at once, each of which attacked with different weapons and struck in different places, the Government, amidst all these bodies, could not lay its hand upon a single head.
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But, what was even more remarkable133 than the diversity of these attacks, was the uniform intention which animated them. Each of the thirteen courts struggled after its own fashion and upon its own soil, but the sentiment which excited them was identically the same. The remonstrances made at that time by the different Parliaments, and published by them, would fill many volumes; but open the book where you will, you seem to be reading the same page: always the same thoughts expressed for the most part in the same words. All of them demanded the States-General in the name of the imprescriptible rights of the nation: all of them approved the conduct of the Parliament of Paris, protested against the acts of violence directed against it, encouraged it to resist, and imitated, as well as it could, not only its measures, but the philosophical134 language of its opposition135. ‘Subjects,’ said the Parliament of Grenoble, ‘have rights as well as the sovereign—rights which are essential to all who are not slaves.’ ‘The just man,’ said the Parliament of Normandy, ‘does not change his principles when he changes his abode.’ ‘The King,’ said the Parliament of Besan?on, ‘cannot wish to have for his subjects humiliated136 slaves.’[114] The tumult137 raised at the same time by all these magistrates scattered138 over the surface of the country sounds like the confused noise of a multitude: listen attentively139 to what they are saying: it is as the voice of one man.
What is it then that the country was saying thus simultaneously? Everywhere you find the same ideas and the same expressions, so that beneath the unity128 of the judicature you discover the unity of the nation: and through this multiplicity of old institutions, of local customs, of provincial privileges, of different usages, which seemed to sever20 France into so many different peoples, each living a separate life, you discern one of the nations of the earth in which the greatest degree of similarity subsists140 between man and man. This movement of the Parliaments, at once multiple and uniform, attacking like a crowd, striking like a single arm,—this judicial insurrection was more dangerous to the Government than all other insurrections, even military revolt; because it turned against the Government that regular, civil, and moral power which is the habitual9 instrument of authority. The strength of an army may coerce for a day, but the constant defence of Governments lies in courts of justice. Another striking point in this resistance of the judicial bodies, was not so much the mischief141 they themselves did to the Government, as that which they allowed to be done to it by others. They established, for[215] instance, the worst form of liberty of the press: that, namely, which springs not from a right, but from the non-execution of the laws. They introduced, too, the right of holding promiscuous142 meetings, so that the different members of each Order and the Orders themselves could remove for a time the barrier which divided them, and concert a common course of action.
Thus it was that all the Orders in each province engaged gradually in the struggle, but not all at the same time or in the same manner. The nobility were the first and boldest champions in that contest against the absolute powers of the King.[115] It was in the place of the aristocracy that absolute government had taken root: they were the first to be humbled143 and annoyed by some obscure agent of the central power, who, under the name of an Intendant, was sent perpetually to regulate and transact144 behind their backs the smallest local affairs: they had produced not a few of the writers who had protested with the greatest energy against despotism; free institutions and the new opinions had almost everywhere found in the nobles their chief supporters. Independently of their own grievances, they were carried away by the common passion which had become universal, as is demonstrated by the nature of their attacks. Their complaint was not that their peculiar privileges had been violated, but that the common law of the realm had been trampled145 under foot, the provincial Estates abolished, the States-General interrupted, the nation treated like a minor146, and the country deprived of the management of its own affairs.
At this first period of the Revolution, when hostilities147 had not yet broken out amongst the ranks of society, the language of the aristocracy was exactly the same as that of the other classes, distinguished only by going greater lengths and taking a higher tone. Their opposition had something republican about it: it was the same feeling animating148 prouder men and souls more accustomed to live in contact with the world’s greatness.
A man who had till then been a violent enemy of the privileged orders, having been present at one of the meetings where the opposition was organised and where the nobles had made a sacrifice of all their rights amidst the applause of the commons, relates this scene in a letter to a friend and exclaims with enthusiasm, ‘Our nobility (how truly a nobility!) has come down to point out our[216] rights, to defend them with us: I have heard it with my own ears; free elections, equality of numbers, equality of taxation—every heart was touched by their disinterestedness149 and kindled150 by their patriotism151.’[116]
When public rejoicings took place at Grenoble upon the news of the dismissal of the Archbishop of Sens, August 29th, 1788, the city was instantly illuminated153 and covered with transparencies, on one of which the following lines were read:—
‘Nobles, vous méritez le sort qui vous décore,
De l’état chancelant vous êtes les soutiens.
Déjà du plus beau jour on voit briller l’aurore.’
In Brittany the nobles were ready to arm the peasants, in order to resist the Royal authorities; and at Paris when the first riot broke out (August 24th, 1788) which was feebly and indecisively repressed by the army, several of the officers, who belonged, as is well known, to the nobility, resigned their commissions rather than shed the blood of the people. The Parliament complimented them on their conduct, and called them ‘those noble and generous soldiers whom the purity and delicacy155 of their sentiments had compelled to resign their commissions.’[117]
The opposition of the clergy156 was not less decided157 though more discreet158. It naturally assumed the forms appropriate to the clerical body. When the Parliament of Paris was exiled to Troyes and received the homage159 of all the public bodies of that city, the Chapter of the Cathedral, as the organ of the clergy, complimented the Parliament in the following terms:—‘The vigour160 restored to the constitutional maxims161 of the monarchy has succeeded in defeating the territorial162 subsidy163, and you have taught the Treasury164 to respect the sacred rights of property.’ ‘The general mourning of the nation and your own removal from your duties and from the bosom165 of your families were to us a poignant166 spectacle, and whilst these august walls echoed the sounds of public grief, we carried into the Sanctuary our private sorrow and our prayers.’—(Official Papers, 1787.)
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Wherever the three Orders combined in opposition, the clergy made their appearance. Usually the Bishop152 spoke little, but he took the chair which was offered him. The famous meeting at Romans, that which protested with the greatest violence against the Edicts of May, was alternately presided over by the Archbishop of Narbonne and the Archbishop of Vienne.[118]
Generally speaking, parish priests were seen at all the meetings of the Orders, where they took a lively and direct part in the debates.
At the outset of the struggle the middle classes had shown themselves timid and irresolute167. Yet it was on those classes especially that the Government had relied for consolation169 in its distress170, and for aid without abandoning its ancient prerogatives: the propositions of the Government had been framed with peculiar regard to the interests of the middle classes and to their passions. Long habituated to obedience, they did not engage without apprehension171 in a course of resistance. Their opposition was tempered with caution. They still flattered the power to which they were opposed, and acknowledged its rights while they contested the use of them. They seemed partly seduced172 by its favours, and ready to yield to the Government, provided some share of government were bestowed173 on themselves. Even when they appeared to direct, the middle classes never ventured to walk alone; impelled174 by an internal heat which they did not care to show, they sought rather to turn the passions of the upper classes to their own advantage than to increase the violence of them. But as the struggle was prolonged the bourgeoisie became more excited, more animated, more bold, until it outstripped175 the other classes, assumed the leading part and kept it, until the People appeared upon the stage.
At this period of the contest not a trace is to be seen of a war of classes. ‘All the Orders,’ said the Parliament of Toulouse, ‘breathe nothing but concord176, and their only ambition is to promote the common happiness.’
A man, then unknown, but who afterwards became celebrated177 for his talents and for his misfortunes, Barnave, in a paper written in defence of the Tiers-état pointed out this agreement of the three Orders, and exclaimed, with the enthusiasm of the time, ‘Ministers of religion! you obtained from the reverence178 of our forefathers179 the right to form among yourselves the first Order of the State; you are an integral part of the French Constitution,[218] and you ought to maintain it. And you, illustrious families! the monarchy has never ceased to flourish under your protection; you created it at the cost of your blood, you have many times saved it from the foreigner; save it now from internal enemies. Secure to your children the splendid benefits your fathers have handed down to you; the name of hero is not honoured under a servile sky.’[119]
These sentiments might be sincere; one sole passion paramount180 to other passions pervaded181 all classes, namely, a spirit of resistance to the Government as the common enemy, a spirit of opposition throughout, in small as well as in great affairs, which struck at everything, and assumed all shapes, even those which disfigured it. Some, in order to resist the Government, laid stress on what remained of old local franchises182. Here a man stood up for some old privilege of his class, some secular183 right of his calling or his corporation; there, another man, forgetting his grievances and animosity against the privileged classes, denounced an edict which, he said, would reduce to nothing the seignorial jurisdictions184, and would thus strip the nobles of all the dignity of their fiefs.
In this violent struggle every man grasped, as if by chance, the weapon nearest at hand, even when it was the least suited to him. If one took note of all the privileges, all the exclusive rights, all the old municipal and provincial franchises which were at this epoch185 claimed, asserted, and loudly demanded, the picture would be at once very exact and very deceptive186; it would appear as if the object of the impending187 Revolution was not to destroy, but to restore, the old order of society. So difficult is it for the individuals who are carried along by one of the great movements of human society to distinguish the true motive power amongst the causes by which they are themselves impelled. Who would have imagined that the impulse which caused so many traditional rights to be asserted was the very passion which was leading irresistibly188 to their entire abolition?[120]
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Now let us close our ears for a moment to these tumultuous sounds, proceeding13 from the middle and upper classes of the nation, to catch, if we may, some whisper beginning to make itself heard from the midst of the People. No sign that I can discover from this distance of time announced that the rural population was at all agitated189. The peasant plodded190 onwards in his wonted track. That vast section of the nation was still neutral, and, as it were, unseen.[121]
Even in the towns the people remained a stranger to the excitement of the upper classes, and indifferent to the stir which was going on above its head. They listen; they watch, with some surprise, but with more curiosity than anger. But no sooner did the agitation191 make itself felt among them than it was found to have assumed a new character. When the magistrates re-entered Paris in triumph, the people, which had done nothing to defend these members of Parliament, arrested in their places, gathered together tumultuously to hail their return.
I have said in another part of this book that nothing was more frequent under the old régime than riots. The Government was so strong that it willingly allowed these transient ebullitions to have free scope. But on this occasion there were numerous indications that a very different state of things had begun. It was a time when everything old assumed new features—riots like everything else. Corn-riots had perpetually occurred in France; but they were made by mobs without order, object, or consistence. Now, on the contrary, broke out insurrection, as we have since so often witnessed it, with its tocsin, its nocturnal cries, its sanguinary placards; a fierce and cruel apparition192; a mob infuriated, yet organised and directed to some end, which rushes at once into civil war, and shatters every obstacle.
Upon the intelligence that the Parliament had prevailed, and that the Archbishop of Sens retired193 from the Ministry194, the populace of Paris broke out in disorderly manifestations195, burnt the minister in effigy196, and insulted the watch. These disturbances197 were, as usual, put down by force; but the mob ran to arms, burnt the guard-houses, disarmed198 the troops, attempted to set fire to the H?tel Lamoignon, and was only driven back by the King’s household[220] troops. Such was the early but terrible germ of the insurrections of the Revolution.[122]
The Reign of Terror was already visible in disguise. Paris, which nowadays a hundred thousand men scarcely keep in order, was then protected by an indifferent sort of police called the watch. Paris had in it neither barracks nor troops. The household troops and the Swiss Guards were quartered in the environs. This time the watch was powerless.
In presence of so general and so novel an opposition, the Government showed signs at first of surprise and of annoyance199 rather than of defeat. It employed all its old weapons—proclamations, lettres de cachet, exile—but it employed them in vain. Force was resorted to, enough to irritate, not enough to terrify; moreover, a whole people cannot be terrified. An attempt was made to excite the passions of the multitude against the rich, the citizens against the aristocracy, the lower magistrates against the courts of justice. It was the old game; but this too was played in vain. New judges were appointed, but most of the new magistrates refused to sit. Favours, money were proffered200; venality201 itself had given way to passion. An effort was made to divert the public attention; but it remained concentrated. Unable to stop or even to check the liberty of writing, the Government sought to use it by opposing one press to another press. A number of little pamphlets were published on its side, at no small cost.[123] Nobody read the defence, but the myriad202 pamphlets that attacked it were devoured203. All these pamphlets were evolved from the abstract principles of Rousseau’s Contrat Social. The Sovereign was to be a citizen king; every infraction of the law was treason against the nation. Nothing in the whole fabric204 of society was sound; the Court was a hateful den3 in which famished205 courtiers devoured the spoils of the people.
At length an incident occurred which hurried on the crisis. The Parliament of Dauphiny had resisted like all the other Parliaments, and had been smitten206 like them all. But nowhere did the cause which it defended find a more general sympathy or[221] more resolute168 champions. Mutual207 class grievances were there perhaps more intense than in any other place; but the prevailing208 excitement lulled209 for a time all private passions; and, whereas in most of the other provinces each class carried on its warfare210 against the Government separately and without combination, in Dauphiny they regularly constituted themselves into a political body and prepared for resistance. Dauphiny had enjoyed for ages its own States, which had been suspended in 1618, but not abolished. A few nobles, a few priests, and a few citizens having met of their own accord in Grenoble, dared to call upon the nobility, the clergy, and the commons to meet as provincial Estates in a country-house near Grenoble, named Vizille. This building was an old feudal castle, formerly211 the residence of the Dukes of Lesdiguières, but recently purchased by a new family, that of Périer, to whom it belongs to this day. No sooner had they met in this place, than the three Orders constituted themselves, and an air of regularity212 was thrown over their irregular proceedings. Forty-nine members of the clergy were present, two hundred and thirty-three members of the nobility, three hundred and ninety-one of the commons. The members of the whole meeting were counted; but not to divide the Orders, it was decided, without discussion, that the president should be chosen from one of the two higher Orders, and the secretary from the commons: the Count de Morges was called to the chair, M. Mounier was named secretary. The Assembly then proceeded to deliberate, and protested in a body against the édicts of May and the suppression of the Parliament. They demanded the restoration of the old Estates of the province which had been arbitrarily and illegally suspended; they demanded that in these Estates a double number of representatives should be given to the commons; they called for the prompt convocation of the States-General, and decided that on the spot a letter should be addressed to the King stating their grievances and their demands. This letter, couched in violent language and in a tone of civil war, was in fact immediately signed by all the members. Similar protests had already been made, similar demands had been expressed with equal violence; but nowhere as yet had there been so signal an example of the union of all classes. ‘The members of the nobility and the clergy,’ says the Journal of the House, ‘were complimented by a member of the commons on the loyalty213 with which, laying aside former pretensions214, they had hastened to do justice to the commons, and on their zeal215 to support the union of the three Orders.’ The President replied[222] that the peers would always be ready to act with their fellow-citizens for the salvation216 of the country.[124]
The Assembly of Vizille produced an amazing effect throughout France. It was the last time that an event, happening elsewhere than in Paris, has exercised a great influence on the general destinies of the country. The Government feared that what Dauphiny had dared to do might be imitated everywhere. Despairing at last of conquering the resistance opposed to it, it declared itself beaten. Louis XVI. dismissed his ministers, abolished or suspended his edicts, recalled the Parliaments, and granted the States-General. This was not, it must be well remarked, a concession217 made by the King on a point of detail, it was a renunciation of absolute power; it was a participation218 in the Government that he admitted and secured to the country by at length conceding in earnest the States-General. One is astonished in reading the writings of that time to find them speaking of a great revolution already accomplished before 1789. It was in truth a great revolution, but one destined219 to be swallowed up and lost in the immensity of the Revolution about to follow.
Numerous indeed and prodigious220 in extent were the faults that had to be committed to bring affairs to the state they then were in. But the Government of Louis XVI., having allowed itself to be driven to such a point, cannot be condemned221 for giving way. No means of resistance were at its disposal. Material force it could not use, as the army lent a reluctant, a nerveless support to its policy. The law it could not use, for the courts of justice were in opposition. In the old kingdom of France, moreover, the absolute power of the Crown had never had a force of its own nor possessed222 instruments depending solely223 on itself. It had never assumed the aspect of military tyranny; it was not born in camps and never had recourse to arms. It was essentially224 a civil power, a work not of violence but of art. This Government was so organised as[223] easily to overpower individual resistance, but its constitution, its precedents, its habits, and those of the nation forbade it to govern against a majority in opposition. The power of the Crown had only been established by dividing classes, by hedging them round with the prejudices, the jealousies225, the hatreds226, peculiar to each of them, so as never to have to do with more than one class at once, and to bring the weight of all the others to bear against it. No sooner had these different classes, sinking for a moment the barriers by which they had been divided, met and agreed upon a common resistance, though but for a single day, than the absolute power of the Government was conquered. The Assembly of Vizille was the outward and visible sign of this new union and of what it might bring to pass. And although this occurrence took place in the depths of a small province and in a corner of the Alps, it thus became the principal event of the time. It exhibited to every eye that which had been as yet visible but to few, and in a moment it decided the victory.
点击收听单词发音
1 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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2 precedent | |
n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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3 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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4 overthrew | |
overthrow的过去式 | |
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5 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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6 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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7 commingled | |
v.混合,掺和,合并( commingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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9 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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10 legislative | |
n.立法机构,立法权;adj.立法的,有立法权的 | |
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11 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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12 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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13 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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14 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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15 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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16 usurpation | |
n.篡位;霸占 | |
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17 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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18 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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19 virility | |
n.雄劲,丈夫气 | |
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20 sever | |
v.切开,割开;断绝,中断 | |
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21 supplicate | |
v.恳求;adv.祈求地,哀求地,恳求地 | |
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22 vivacity | |
n.快活,活泼,精神充沛 | |
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23 coerce | |
v.强迫,压制 | |
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24 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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25 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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26 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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27 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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28 remonstrance | |
n抗议,抱怨 | |
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29 convoke | |
v.召集会议 | |
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30 convoked | |
v.召集,召开(会议)( convoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 administrator | |
n.经营管理者,行政官员 | |
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32 prescription | |
n.处方,开药;指示,规定 | |
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33 wrested | |
(用力)拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 ); 费力取得; (从…)攫取; ( 从… ) 强行取去… | |
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34 alleged | |
a.被指控的,嫌疑的 | |
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35 industriously | |
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36 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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37 crammed | |
adj.塞满的,挤满的;大口地吃;快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满;填入;临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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38 quotations | |
n.引用( quotation的名词复数 );[商业]行情(报告);(货物或股票的)市价;时价 | |
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39 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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40 ordinances | |
n.条例,法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
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41 infraction | |
n.违反;违法 | |
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42 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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43 annexation | |
n.吞并,合并 | |
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44 invoked | |
v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 );行使(权利等);祈求救助;恳求 | |
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45 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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46 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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47 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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48 remonstrances | |
n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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49 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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50 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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51 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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52 franchise | |
n.特许,特权,专营权,特许权 | |
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53 inflamed | |
adj.发炎的,红肿的v.(使)变红,发怒,过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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55 interrogate | |
vt.讯问,审问,盘问 | |
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56 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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57 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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58 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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59 cupidity | |
n.贪心,贪财 | |
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60 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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61 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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62 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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63 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
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64 indigence | |
n.贫穷 | |
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65 taxation | |
n.征税,税收,税金 | |
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66 inveigh | |
v.痛骂 | |
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67 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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68 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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69 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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70 harassed | |
adj. 疲倦的,厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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71 fiscal | |
adj.财政的,会计的,国库的,国库岁入的 | |
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72 arrogate | |
v.冒称具有...权利,霸占 | |
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73 levying | |
征(兵)( levy的现在分词 ); 索取; 发动(战争); 征税 | |
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74 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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75 rapacity | |
n.贪婪,贪心,劫掠的欲望 | |
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76 contractors | |
n.(建筑、监造中的)承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
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77 levied | |
征(兵)( levy的过去式和过去分词 ); 索取; 发动(战争); 征税 | |
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78 emolument | |
n.报酬,薪水 | |
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79 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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80 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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81 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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82 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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83 reiterated | |
反复地说,重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84 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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85 vindicate | |
v.为…辩护或辩解,辩明;证明…正确 | |
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86 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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87 exemption | |
n.豁免,免税额,免除 | |
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88 slay | |
v.杀死,宰杀,杀戮 | |
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89 hydra | |
n.水螅;难于根除的祸患 | |
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90 exemptions | |
n.(义务等的)免除( exemption的名词复数 );免(税);(收入中的)免税额 | |
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91 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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92 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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93 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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94 arbiter | |
n.仲裁人,公断人 | |
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95 grievances | |
n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 );苦衷;不满;牢骚 | |
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96 constrain | |
vt.限制,约束;克制,抑制 | |
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97 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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98 prelude | |
n.序言,前兆,序曲 | |
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99 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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100 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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101 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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103 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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104 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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105 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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106 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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107 trespass | |
n./v.侵犯,闯入私人领地 | |
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108 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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109 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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110 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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111 sobbed | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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112 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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113 woes | |
困境( woe的名词复数 ); 悲伤; 我好苦哇; 某人就要倒霉 | |
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114 annihilate | |
v.使无效;毁灭;取消 | |
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115 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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116 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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117 abolition | |
n.废除,取消 | |
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118 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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119 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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120 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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121 idol | |
n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
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122 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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123 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124 mandates | |
托管(mandate的第三人称单数形式) | |
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125 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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126 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127 administrative | |
adj.行政的,管理的 | |
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128 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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129 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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130 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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131 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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132 adversaries | |
n.对手,敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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133 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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134 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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135 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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136 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
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137 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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138 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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139 attentively | |
adv.聚精会神地;周到地;谛;凝神 | |
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140 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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141 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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142 promiscuous | |
adj.杂乱的,随便的 | |
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143 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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144 transact | |
v.处理;做交易;谈判 | |
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145 trampled | |
踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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146 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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147 hostilities | |
n.战争;敌意(hostility的复数);敌对状态;战事 | |
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148 animating | |
v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 );驱动;使栩栩如生地动作;赋予…以生命 | |
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149 disinterestedness | |
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150 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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151 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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152 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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153 illuminated | |
adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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154 liens | |
n.留置权,扣押权( lien的名词复数 ) | |
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155 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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156 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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157 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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158 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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159 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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160 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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161 maxims | |
n.格言,座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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162 territorial | |
adj.领土的,领地的 | |
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163 subsidy | |
n.补助金,津贴 | |
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164 treasury | |
n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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165 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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166 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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167 irresolute | |
adj.无决断的,优柔寡断的,踌躇不定的 | |
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168 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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169 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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170 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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171 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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172 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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173 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174 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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175 outstripped | |
v.做得比…更好,(在赛跑等中)超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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176 concord | |
n.和谐;协调 | |
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177 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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178 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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179 forefathers | |
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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180 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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181 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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182 franchises | |
n.(尤指选举议员的)选举权( franchise的名词复数 );参政权;获特许权的商业机构(或服务);(公司授予的)特许经销权v.给…以特许权,出售特许权( franchise的第三人称单数 ) | |
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183 secular | |
n.牧师,凡人;adj.世俗的,现世的,不朽的 | |
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184 jurisdictions | |
司法权( jurisdiction的名词复数 ); 裁判权; 管辖区域; 管辖范围 | |
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185 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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186 deceptive | |
adj.骗人的,造成假象的,靠不住的 | |
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187 impending | |
a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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188 irresistibly | |
adv.无法抵抗地,不能自持地;极为诱惑人地 | |
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189 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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190 plodded | |
v.沉重缓慢地走(路)( plod的过去式和过去分词 );努力从事;沉闷地苦干;缓慢进行(尤指艰难枯燥的工作) | |
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191 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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192 apparition | |
n.幽灵,神奇的现象 | |
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193 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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194 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
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195 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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196 effigy | |
n.肖像 | |
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197 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
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198 disarmed | |
v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 );使息怒 | |
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199 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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200 proffered | |
v.提供,贡献,提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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201 venality | |
n.贪赃枉法,腐败 | |
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202 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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203 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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204 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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205 famished | |
adj.饥饿的 | |
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206 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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207 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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208 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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209 lulled | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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210 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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211 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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212 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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213 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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214 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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215 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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216 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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217 concession | |
n.让步,妥协;特许(权) | |
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218 participation | |
n.参与,参加,分享 | |
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219 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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220 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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221 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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222 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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223 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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224 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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225 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
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226 hatreds | |
n.仇恨,憎恶( hatred的名词复数 );厌恶的事 | |
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