A well-known fable tells how in the olden time two knights7 were riding in opposite directions along a green road overarched by the trees of an ancient forest. It was a bright morning in early summer, with the green leaves freshly bursting in contrasted foliage9; the sun had just risen over the tops of the trees in clouds of golden and crimson10 glory; dewdrops were glittering like diamonds on every twig11 and blade of grass; and the joyous12 birds carolling their loudest song to greet the opening day.
Everything was fresh and cheerful as of a new-born earth, and so were the spirits of the two youthful knights, who were pricking13 forth14 in search of adventures. He whose face was turned towards the West, where the rising sun had last set, wore a primrose16 scarf over his cuirass, and had on his shield a quaint17 device, which,[228] on closer inspection19, might be seen to be a tombstone with the inscription20,
‘I was well, would be better, and here I am.’
He rode along musing21 on the heroic legends of the past, and wishing that he had been a knight8 of Arthur’s round table to ride out with the blameless king against invading heathen.
The second knight, whose face was turned towards the rising sun, bore an azure22 shield with a different device. On it was depicted23 the good Sir James Douglass charging the serried24 Paynim army, and, as he charged, flinging before him into the hostile ranks the casket containing the heart of Robert Bruce, and shouting for battle-cry—
As he rode his fancy wrought26 the fairy web of a day-dream, in which he saw himself delivering the fair princess Liberty from the fiery27 dragon Prejudice and the stolid28 giant Obstruction29.
The knights met just where an ancient oak of mighty30 bulk stretched overhead a huge branch across the path, as some aged31 athlete might stretch out an arm rigid32 with gnarled and knotted muscles, to show younger generations how Olympian laurels33 were won when Pollux or Hercules plied34 the cestus. From this branch a shield hung suspended.
‘Good morrow, fair knight,’ said he of the primrose scarf; ‘prithee tell me if thou knowest what means this golden shield suspended here.’
‘I marvel35 at it myself, good Sir Knight,’ responded the other; ‘but you mistake in calling the shield golden; it is of silver.’
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‘Your eyes must be of the dullest,’ said the first knight, ‘if you mistake gold for silver.’
‘Not so dull as yours,’ retorted the other, ‘if you mistake silver for gold.’
The argument waxed hot, and, as usual in such cases, as tempers grew weak adjectives grew strong. Soon, like the old Homeric heroes when Greek met Trojan
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy,
winged words of fire and fury darted36 from each mouth, and epithets37 were exchanged, of which ‘stupid old Tory’ and ‘low, vulgar Radical’ were among the least unparliamentary. At length the fatal words ‘You lie’ escaped simultaneously38 from both, and on the instant spears were couched, steeds spurred, and, red with rage, they encountered each other in full career. Such was the momentum39 that both men and horses rolled over, even as the Templar went down before the spear of Ivanhoe within the lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouch. But, like the redoubted knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, each sprang to his feet and drew his sword, eager to redeem40 the fortune of war in deadly combat. Like two surly boars with bristling41 backs and foaming42 tusks43 quarrelling for the right of way in Indian jungle, or tawny44 lions in Numidian desert tearing one another to pieces for the smiles of a leonine Helen, the heroes clashed together, cutting, slashing45, parrying, foyning, and traversing, until at length, bleeding and breathless, they paused for a moment, leaning on their swords to recover second wind.
‘Pause, my sons,’ he said, ‘and tell me what is the cause of this furious encounter.’
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‘And that lying varlet persists that it is of silver,’ said the other.
The hermit smiled, and said, ‘Hold your hands, good sirs, for a single moment, and use your remaining strength to exchange places and look at the opposite side of the shield.’
They obeyed his words, and found to their confusion that they had been fighting in a quarrel in which each was right and each wrong.
‘Father,’ they said, ‘we are fools. Grant us thy pardon for our folly50 and absolution for our sin.’
‘Absolution,’ said the hermit, ‘is soon granted for faults which arise from the innate51 tendency of poor human nature. Wiser and older men than you are prone52 to see only their own side of a question. Come, then, with me to my humble53 hermitage; there will I dress your wounds and offer you my frugal54 fare; happy if from this lesson you may learn for the rest of your lives, before indulging in vehement55 assertions and proceeding56 to violent extremities57, to “look at the other side of the shield.”’
The application of this fable to the polarity of politics will be obvious to every intelligent reader. As the earth is kept in its orbit by the due balance of centripetal58 and centrifugal forces, so is every civilised society held together by the opposite influences of conservative and progressive tendencies. The conservative tendency may be likened to the centripetal force which binds59 the mass together, while the progressive one resembles that centrifugal force which prevents it from being concentrated in a rigid and inert60 central body without life or[231] motion. As Herbert Spencer truly says, ‘from antagonistic61 social tendencies there always results not a medium state, but a rhythm between opposite states. Now the one greatly preponderates62, and presently, by reaction, there comes a preponderance of the other.’ So it is with the antagonism64 of conservative and liberal tendencies. In the societies of the ancient world, and to the present day in the East, the conservative tendency unduly65 preponderates, and they crystallise into inert masses in the form of despotisms, and of sacerdotal or administrative66 hierarchies67. At times the pent-up forces which make for change accumulate, and, as in the French Revolution, explode with destructive violence, shattering the old and bringing in new eras. But unless the balance between liberty and order is tolerably preserved in the individual citizens whose aggregate68 forms the society, after a period more or less prolonged of violent oscillations they crystallise anew into fresh forms, in which another military dynasty, or it may be administrative centralisation under the name of a republic, again asserts the preponderance of the centripetal force.
The happiest nations are those in which the individual character of individual citizens supplies the requisite69 balance. An ideal society is one in which every citizen is at the same time liberal and conservative; law-abiding, and yet with a strong instinct for liberty of thought and action, for progress and for individual independence. It is among the Teutonic races, especially when they are placed in favourable71 conditions as in new countries, or in old countries where for ages
Freedom has widened slowly down,
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that this happy ideal is most nearly realised. Hence it is that these races are more and more coming to the front and surviving in the struggle for existence.
The contrast of English and French colonisation affords a striking instance of this difference of races. A century and a half ago France stood as well as England in the race for colonial supremacy73. She had the start of us in Canada, and her pioneers had explored the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, and a large part of the continent of North America west of the Rocky Mountains. To-day there are sixty millions of an English-speaking population in that continent, while French is scarcely spoken beyond the single province of Quebec. Political events had doubtless something to do with this result; but it has been mainly owing to the innate qualities of the two races, for even the genius of Chatham might have failed to establish our supremacy if it had not been backed by the superior intelligence, energy, and staying power of the English colonists74. The ultimate cause of the triumph of the English over the French element in America and India is doubtless to be found in the stronger individualism of the former. The character of the French is eminently75 social, they like to live in societies, and shrink from encountering the hardships and still more the isolation76 of the life of early settlers. They like to be administered, and shrink from the responsibility of hewing77 out, each for themselves, their own path in the relations of civil life or in the depths of prim15?val forests.
It is so to the present day, and they fail conspicuously78 in creating a large French population even at their own doors in Algeria; while in their more distant colonies they conquer and annex79, but to see their commerce[233] fall into the hands of English, Germans, and Chinese, as in Cochin China, or to stagnate80 as in New Caledonia. As a witty81 French writer puts it, the trade of a remote French colony may be summed up as—imports, absinthe and cigars; exports, stamped paper and red-tape. Individualism in this case has been fairly pitted against Socialism, and has beaten it out of the field by the verdict of Fact, which is more conclusive82 than any amount of abstract argument.
To return, however, to the field of politics. Where the essential quality of being law-abiding is wanting in individuals, it is hopeless to look for real liberty. The centripetal force in societies, as in planets, must be supplied somehow, or they would fly into dissolution; and if not by the integration83 of the tendencies of the individual units, then by external restrictions84. Socialists85 may be allowed to make inflammatory harangues86 in a non-explosive atmosphere, but hardly to let off their fireworks in a powder-magazine. In order, however, that a nation shall be law-abiding, it is essential that the great majority should feel that, on the whole, the law is their friend. It is not in human nature to love that which injures, or to respect that which is felt to be unjust. The volcanic87 explosion of the French Revolution was due to the feeling of the French nation, with the exception of a few courtiers, nobles, and priests, that the existing order of things was their enemy, and law a tool in the hands of their oppressors. Even among English-speaking races we find, in the unfortunate instance of Ireland, that under specially70 unfavourable circumstances the same effects may be produced by the same causes. What has English law practically meant for centuries to an average peasant of[234] Kerry or Connemara? It has meant an irresistible88 malevolent89 power, which comes down on him with writs90 of eviction91 to compel him to pay a high rent on his own improvements. More than half the population of Ireland consists of tenants93 and their families occupying small holdings, paying less than 10l. a year of rent. Of an immense majority of these small holdings two things may be safely asserted: first, that the total gross value of the produce is insufficient94, after paying the rent, to leave a decent subsistence for the cultivator. Secondly95, that this rent is levied96 to a great extent on the improvements of the tenant92 or his predecessors97. Throughout the poorer parts of Ireland the greater part of the soil, in its natural state of bog98 or mountain, is not worth a rent of a shilling an acre; but some poor peasant, urged by the earth-hunger which results from the absence of other sources of employment, squats99 upon it, builds a wretched cottage, delves100, drains, fences, and reclaims102 a few acres of land so as to bear a scanty103 crop of oats and potatoes. When he has done so the landlord or landlord’s agent comes to him and says, ‘This land is worth ten or fifteen shillings an acre, according to the standard of rents in the district, and you must pay it or turn out;’ and the law backs him in saying so by writs of eviction and police. Put yourself in poor Pat’s place, and say if you would love the law and be law-abiding.
It would take me too far from the scope of this volume into the field of contemporary politics if I attempted to point out who is to blame for this state of things, or what are the remedies. It is enough to say that this is the real Irish problem, and to point to it as an instance of the calamitous104 effects which inevitably[235] follow when the instincts of a whole population are brought by an unfavourable combination of circumstances into necessary and natural antagonism with the laws which they are bound to obey.
Conservative legislation, by whatever party it is introduced, really means making the law correspond with the common sense and common morality of all except the criminal and crotchety classes, so that the majority may feel it to be their friend. For instance, the most truly conservative measure of recent times was probably that which legalised trades’ unions and gave working-men full liberty to combine for an increase of wages. The old legal maxim105, that such combinations were illegal as being in restraint of trade, was so obviously an invention of the members of the upper caste who wore horsehair wigs106, to give their fellows of the same caste who employed labour an unfair advantage, that it could not fail to cause feelings of discontent and exasperation107 among the masses of working-men. By its repeal108 the sting has been taken out of Socialism, and the British working-man has come to be, in the main, a reasonable citizen, on whom incitements to violence in order to inaugurate Utopias, fall as lightly as the howlings of the barren east wind on the chimney-tops. It has led also to reasonable and peaceful adjustment of disputes between employers and labourers by arbitration109 and sliding-scales instead of by strikes and lock-outs. In the United States of America the law-abiding instinct is even stronger. We find that strikes attended with violence are almost always confined mainly to the foreign element of recently imported immigrants, and that the native-born American citizen[236] considers the laws as his own laws, and is determined110 to have them respected.
The balance between the conservative and progressive tendencies is, however, at the best, always imperfect, and inclines too much sometimes in one and sometimes in the other direction. In England the conservative tendency has had on the whole too much preponderance. I do not speak of political institutions, for in these of late years the balance has been pretty equally preserved; but in practical matters there is still a good deal of old-fashioned stolid obstruction. This is most apparent in law and in education. The common or judge-made law, though on the whole well-intentioned and upright, is fettered111 by so many technicalities and musty precedents112, that it fails in a great many instances to be, what civil law ought to be, a cheap, speedy, and intelligible113 instrument for enforcing honest dealings between man and man. One of our greatest railway contractors114 once said to me, ‘If I want to make an agreement which shall be absolutely binding115, I make it myself on a sheet of note-paper; if I want to have a loophole, I send it to my lawyer to have it drawn up in legal language and engrossed116 on sheets of parchment.’ Another man of large experience in commercial and financial matters laid down this axiom: ‘If you want to know what is the law in a doubtful case, reason out what is the common-sense view of it, and assume that the direct opposite is probably the law.’ These may be extreme instances, as all such epigrammatic sentences generally are, but it is undeniable that they have a considerable basis of substantial truth; and that law, with its dilatory117 processes, its enormous expense, and its uncertain conclusions, may[237] be, and often is, not an instrument of justice, but a weapon in the hands of an unscrupulous adventurer or of a dishonest rich man, to extort118 blackmail119 or to defeat just claims.
Again, what nation but England would tolerate so long a system of land law, so bristling with antiquated120 technicalities, so tedious, and so expensive, as almost to amount to a prohibition121 of the transfer of land in small quantities; or could let the private interests of a mere122 handful of professional lawyers stand in the way of a codification123 of laws and a registration124 of titles?
Education is another subject which shows how difficult it is to move the sluggish125 ultra-conservative instincts of the English mind in the direction of progress, when not stimulated126 by political conflict. What is education? The word tells its own story; it is to draw out, not to cram127 in; to unfold the capacities of the growing mind, strengthen the reasoning faculty128, create an interest in the surrounding universe; in a word, to excite a love of knowledge and impart the means of acquiring it. For the mass of the population, education is necessarily confined in a great measure to the latter object. The three R’s—reading, writing, and arithmetic—are indispensable requisites129, and the acquirement of these, with perhaps a few elements of history and geography, absorbs nearly all the time and opportunity that can be afforded for attendance at school. For any culture beyond this the great majority must depend on themselves in after life. But there are a large number of parents of the upper and middle classes who can and do keep their children at school for eight or ten years, and spend a large sum of money in giving them what is called a higher education. What is there to[238] show for this time and money, even in the case of the highest schools, which ought to give the highest education? On the credit side, a little Latin and less Greek, plenty of cricket and athletics130, good physical training, and, best of all, on the whole a manly131, honourable132, and gentlemanlike spirit. But on the debit133 side, absolute ignorance, except in the case of a few unusually clever and ambitious boys, of all that a cultivated man of the nineteenth century ought to know. No French, no German, and, what is worse, no English. The average boy can neither write his own language legibly nor grammatically, and, if he goes straight from a public school into a competitive examination, stands an excellent chance of being plucked for spelling. And, what is worst of all, he not only knows nothing, but cares to know nothing; his reasoning faculty has never been cultivated, and his interest in interesting things has never been awakened134. What is the first lesson he has had to learn? ‘Propria qu? maribus dicantur mascula dicas,’ that is, words appropriated to males are called masculine—a lesson which elicits135 as much reasoning faculty, and creates as much interest, as if he had been made to commit to memory that things made of gold are called golden. Suppose instead of this that the lesson had been that two volumes of hydrogen combine with one volume of oxygen to form water. The exercise to the memory is the same, but how different is the amount of thought and interest evoked136, especially if the experiment is made before the class and each boy has to repeat it for himself! How many new subjects of interest would this open up in the mind of any lad of average intelligence! How strange that there should be airs other than the air we breathe, which can be[239] weighed and measured, and that two of them by combining shall produce their exact weight of a substance so unlike them as water! Or if the exercise of a class were to look through a microscope at the leaf of a plant or wing of an insect, and try who could best draw what they had seen and write a description of it in a legible hand and in good English, how many faculties138 would this call into play compared with the dull routine of parsing139 a Latin sentence or writing a halting copy of Greek iambics! Even grammar, the one thing which is supposed to be taught thoroughly140, is taught so unintelligently that it awakens141 no interest beyond that of a parrot learning by rote4. From ‘propria qu? maribus’ the scholar passes to ‘as in pr?senti perfectum format142 in avi,’ without an attempt to explain what language really means, how it originates from root-words, and how these inflections of ‘as’ and ‘avi’ are part of the devices which certain families of mankind, including our own, have invented as a mechanism144 for attaching shades of meaning, such as present and past, to the primitive145 root. Even the alphabet intelligently taught opens up wide fields of interesting matter as to the history of ancient nations, and their successive attempts to analyse the component146 sounds of their spoken words, and to pass from primitive picture-writing to phonetic147 symbols. But the instructors148 of the budding manhood of the élite of the nation, like Gallio, ‘care for none of these things,’ and the organisation149 of our higher schools seems to be stereotyped150 on the principle that they are made for teachers rather than for scholars, and that their chief raison d’être is to enable a limited number of highly respectable gentlemen from the Universities to realise comfortable incomes with a maximum of holidays[240] and a minimum of trouble. And the parents support the system because so many of them really reverence151 rank more than knowledge, and are willing to compound for their sons growing up ignorant, idle, and extravagant152, if by any chance they can count a lord or two among their acquaintance.
Mr. Francis Galton, in the course of his interesting inquiries153 as to the effect of heredity and education on character and attainments154, took the very practical course of addressing a set of questions to some hundred and eighty of our most distinguished155 men as to the hereditary156 qualities of their ancestors, and the various influences which they considered had done most to promote or to retard157 their success in life. Of course he received a variety of answers, ‘quot homines tot sententi?,’ but upon one point there was a striking unanimity158. ‘They almost all expressed a hatred159 of grammar and the classics, and an utter distaste for the old-fashioned system of education. There were none who had passed through this old high and dry education who were satisfied with it. Those who came from the greater schools usually did nothing there, and have abused the system heartily160.’
And yet the system goes on, and the Eton Latin grammar will probably be taught, and hexameters written, for another generation. Surely the needle swings here too strongly towards the negative or obstructive pole.
The instances are so numerous in social and practical life in which it is necessary to look at both sides of the shield that the difficulty is in selection. Take the case of patriotism. Patriotism is beyond all doubt a great virtue—in fact, the fertile mother of many of the[241] higher and heroic virtues161. Who does not sympathise with the legends of Wallace and William Tell, and scorn with Walter Scott
the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself has said,
This is my own, my native land?
And yet how thin a line of partition separates it from narrow-minded arrogance162 and insolent163 ignorance! Reflected in the latter form from Paris, in hysterical164 shouts now of ‘à Berlin, à Berlin!’ and now ‘à bas perfide Albion!’ we call it ‘Chauvinism,’ and recognise it as an unlovely exhibition. But call it ‘Jingoism,’ and let it take the form of the bellowings of some stupid bull, as the red flag, now of a French and now of a Russian scare, crosses his line of vision, and we are blind to its deformity. Still there is another side to the shield, for even ‘Jingoism,’ which is only another word for patriotism run mad, is more respectable than the opposite extreme of a sordid165 and narrow minded parochialism, which shrinks behind the ‘silver streak,’ measures everything by the standard of pounds, shillings, and pence, and, with what Tennyson calls
The craven fear of being great,
groans166 over the responsibilities of extended empire. The growth of such a spirit among prominent politicians of the advanced Liberal school seems to me one of the most alarming symptoms of the day; but I take comfort when I reflect that the most democratic community in the world, that of the United States, is precisely167 the one which has shown most determination to maintain its national greatness, if necessary by the sword, and has made the greatest sacrifices for that object. If[242] the ‘copperheads’ were a miserable168 minority in America, why should we be afraid of our ‘English copperheads’ ever becoming a majority in Old England?
In this, as in all similar cases, it is evident that true statesmanship consists in hitting the happy mean, and doing the right thing at the right time; and that true strength stands firm in the middle between the two opposite poles, while weakness is drawn by one or other of the conflicting attractions into
The falsehood of extremes.
When Sir Robert Peel some forty years ago announced his conversion169 by the unadorned eloquence170 of Richard Cobden, and free trade was inaugurated, with results which were attended with the most brilliant success, every one expected that the conversion of the rest of the civilised world was only a question of time, and that a short time. Few would have been found bold enough to predict that forty years later England would stand almost alone in the world in adherence171 to free-trade principles, and that the protectionist heresy172 would not only be strengthened and confirmed among Continental173 nations such as France and Germany, but actually adopted by large and increasing majorities in the United States, Canada, Australia, and other English-speaking communities. Yet such is the actual fact at the present day. In spite of the Cobden Club and of arguments which to the average English mind appear irresistible, free trade has been steadily174 losing ground for the last twenty years, and nation after nation, colony after colony, sees its protectionist majority increasing and its free-trade minority dwindling175.
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It is evident there must be some real cause for such a universal phenomenon. In countries like France and Russia we may attribute it to economical ignorance and the influence of cliques176 of manufacturers and selfish interests; but the people of Germany, and still more of the United States, Canada, and Australia, are as intelligent as ourselves, and quite as shrewd in seeing where those interests really lie. They are fettered by no traditional prejudices, and their political instincts rather lie towards freedom and against the creation of anything like an aristocracy of wealthy manufacturers. And yet, after years of free discussion, they have become more and more hardened in their protectionist heresies178.
What does this prove? That there are two sides to the shield, and not, as we fancied in our English insularity179, only one.
Free trade is undoubtedly180 the best, or rather the only possible, policy for a country like England, with thirty millions of inhabitants, producing food for less than half the number, and depending on foreign trade for the supplies necessary to keep the other half alive. It is the best policy also for a country which, owing to its mineral resources, its accessibility by sea to markets, its accumulated capital, and the inherited qualities, physical and moral, of its working population, has unrivalled advantages for cheap production. Nor can any dispassionate observer dispute that in England, which is such a country, free trade has worked well. It has not worked miracles, it has not introduced an industrial millennium181, the poor are still with us, and it has not saved us from our share of commercial depressions. But, on the whole, national wealth has greatly increased, and, what is more important, national well-being[244] has increased with it, the mass of the population, and especially the working classes, get better wages, work shorter hours, and are better fed, better clothed, and better educated than they were forty years ago.
This is one side of the shield, and it is really a golden and not an illusory one. But look at the other side. Take the case of a country where totally opposite conditions prevail: where there is no surplus population, unlimited182 land, limited capital, labour scarce and dear, and no possibility of competing in the foreign or even in the home market with the manufactures which, with free trade, would be poured in by countries like England, in prior possession of all the elements of cheap production. It is by no means so clear that protection, to enable native industries to take root and grow, may not in such cases be the wisest policy.
Take as a simple illustration the case of an Australian colony imposing183 an import duty on foreign boots and shoes. There is not a doubt that this is practically taxing the immense majority of colonists who wear and do not make these articles. But, on the other hand, it makes the colony a possible field for emigration for all the shoemakers of Europe, and shoemaking a trade to which any Australian with a large family can bring up one of his sons. Looking at it from the strict point of view of the most rigid political economist184, the maximum production of wealth, which is the better policy? The production of wealth, we must recollect185, depends on labour, and productive labour depends on the labourer finding his tools—that is, employment at which he can work. A labourer who cannot find work at living wages is worse than a zero: he is a negative quantity as far as the accumulation of wealth is concerned. On the[245] other hand, every workman who finds work, even if it may not be of the ideally best description, is a wealth-producing machine. What he spends on himself and his family gives employment to other workmen, and the work must be poor indeed if the produce of a year’s labour is not more than the cost of a year’s subsistence. The surplus adds to the national capital, and thus capital and population go on increasing in geometrical progression. The first problem, therefore, for a new or a backward country is to find ‘a fair day’s wages for a fair day’s work,’ for as many hands as possible. The problem of making that employment the most productive possible is a secondary one, which will solve itself in each case rather by actual practice than by abstract theory.
This much, however, is pretty clear, that in order to secure the maximum of employment it must be varied186. All are not fit for agricultural work, and, even if they were, if the conditions of soil and climate favour large estates and sheep or cattle runs rather than small farms, a large amount of capital may provide work for only a small number of labourers. On social and moral grounds, also, apart from dry considerations of political economy, progress intelligence and a higher standard of life are more likely to be found with large cities, manufactures, and a variety of industrial occupations than with a dead level of a few millionaires and a few shepherds, or of a few landlords and a dense187 population of poor peasants. If protection is the price which must be paid to render such a larger life possible, it may be sound policy to pay it, and the result seems to show that neither it nor free trade is inconsistent with rapid progress, while, on the other hand, neither of them[246] affords an absolute immunity188 from the evils that dog the footsteps of progress, and from the periods of reaction and depression which accompany vicissitudes189 of trade.
Here, as in other cases, there are two sides of the shield, and true statesmanship consists in seeing both, and doing the right thing, at the right place, and at the right time. If free trade is, as we believe, ultimately to prevail, it will be an affair of time. The real trial of protection comes when it has stimulated production to a point which gluts190 the home market and leaves a surplus which must be exported. Exports of articles the cost of which has been artificially raised by protection, cannot compete in the world’s market with the cheaper products of free-trade countries. Vicissitudes therefore of prosperity and depression must tend to become more frequent and more severe, and, if production goes on, a point must be reached where, at whatever cost, it must either be arrested or made capable of competing in the wider market. The United States are probably not far from such a point, and it would have been already reached but for the immense and unexhausted resources of that vast continent. In France the point has apparently191 been reached, and we find that, with a lower scale of wages than in England, it is becoming more and more difficult every day to maintain that lower scale, and the export trade of its manufactured goods to foreign markets.
Protection, leading to higher wages and profits than can be permanently192 maintained, and artificially enhancing the cost of living to the working classes, threatens, more and more every day, to introduce strained relations between capital and labour in most countries of Europe.
The relation between capital and labour affords a good[247] instance of the inevitable193 error of applying hard and fast logical conclusions to the complex and ever-varying problems of actual life. Ricardo and other distinguished writers on political economy have assumed that the two constitute a fundamental antagonistic polarity. Wealth, they say, is the joint194 product of capital and labour, and, as in the case of a cake which has to be divided between C and L, the more C gets the less is left for L, and vice18 versa. The theory sounds plausible195: but what says fact? In the most unmistakable manner it pronounces, as the outcome of practical experience, that the profits of capital and the wages of labour rise and fall together. High profits mean high wages, rising profits rising wages, falling profits falling wages. It has been proved so in a thousand instances, and not one can be quoted where the one factor has varied in an inverse196, and not in a direct, ratio with the other. It is obvious that there must be some fallacy in Ricardo’s argument. The fallacy is this: he assumes the cake to be of fixed197 dimensions, whereas in point of fact it varies, sometimes diminishing to zero, or even to a negative quantity, at others expanding to many times its original size. A new gold-field is discovered in a remote country, and forthwith profits rise to cent. per cent., and wages to a pound a day; a bad season and depression of trade overtake an old country, and the gross value of the produce of many a farm is insufficient to cover expenses and depreciation198, even if the labourers worked for nothing. The polarity is therefore confined to the limited and temporary case of the division of the profit, where there is a profit, in particular trades and in individual instances. And this is regulated mainly by the accustomed scale of wages and standard of living of the workmen,[248] and their opportunities of finding employment elsewhere if dissatisfied with the terms offered to them. On the whole, it may be said that capital has the best of it on a rising, and wages on a falling, market. A manufacturer or mine-owner’s profit may rise from five to twenty per cent. without quadrupling the rate of wages; but, on the other hand, it may fall from twenty per cent. to five, or even for a time below zero, without a proportionate diminution199 in the price paid for labour. Capital is, in fact, the great insurer of labour, the flywheel which regulates the motion of the industrial machine. This will be best illustrated200 by a practical instance. The Brighton Railway Company for several consecutive201 years paid no dividend202, or only a trifling203 amount, on the shareholders’ capital, but during the whole of this time it gave steady employment at good wages to upwards204 of ten thousand workmen. The Blaenavon Coal and Iron Company in South Wales was for many years a losing concern, and successive capitalists lost the best part of a million pounds in it, until at length it was reorganised with a small capital and became a fairly prosperous concern. During the whole of this time it gave employment at fair wages to several thousand workmen. Which had the best of it in these two cases, capital or labour, and where would the workmen have been on any communistic or co-operative system? In fact it will be apparent to any one who will study dispassionately the statistics of any line of inquiry205, such as the scale of wages, the price of provisions, the accumulations of savings206 banks and provident207 societies, &c., for the last twenty years, that the working classes have had the lion’s share of the vast increase which has taken place in the wealth and income of[249] the nation. I am glad that it is so, for it is better, both morally and politically, that the condition of the masses should be improved, and their standard of living raised, than that capital should accumulate too exclusively in large masses.
Still there is a good deal to be said for such large accumulations. Let us go to the United States of America for an illustration, where everything is on a large scale, and colossal208 fortunes have been made in a few years. The modus operandi by which most of these fortunes have been made may be described according to the way we look at it, either as railway jobbing or as pioneering the way in useful enterprise. The construction of the first railway across the continent to California is a typical instance. A clique177 or syndicate of wealthy speculators make surveys and estimates of a line across deserts and over mountain ranges, and ascertain209 pretty accurately210 what it will cost. They form a company with a capital of double that cost, and by subventions from the Government, grants of land, and sale of mortgage bonds, raise the half really required, and hold the other half in shares as profit in paper. The line is made, and if the traffic turns out well, and there is a period of speculation211 in the money market, the paper is turned into dollars, and, if the line really costs, say, 10,000,000l. or 20,000,000l., the promoters realise an equal amount as profit.
This has two sides to it: it is doubtless bad for the public to have to pay rates which give a return on twice the actual cost, and the possession of a close monopoly in the hands of a few millionaires may be abused to the detriment212 of individual traders. But, on the other hand, the railway could not have been made in any[250] other way. If it had been necessary to wait until the slow growth of population insured such a traffic as would induce the ordinary public to subscribe213 for shares at par3, you might have waited for twenty years before a single mile of railway was made west of the Mississippi. Nor is this all: the enormous profit realised in the first of these enterprises led to a rush of rich speculators into the lottery214 of pushing railways ahead of traffic, in which there were such magnificent prizes. The continent was covered by new railways built to create new traffic rather than to provide for that which already existed. And the traffic was created, though, as the lottery contained blanks as well as prizes, many of the original promoters were ruined. The second great line spanning the continent—the Northern Pacific—ruined two successive sets of promoters, and is only now beginning to be moderately successful.
But the final result has been that while British India, which went on what may be called the respectable system of getting a pound’s worth of work for every pound raised, has only 12,000 miles of railway, the United States, under the speculative215 system, has got 120,000 miles. I cannot doubt that the national wealth of America is greater at the present day than if there had been no Jay Goulds or Vanderbilts, and the construction of her railways had been delayed on the average for twenty years.
The contrast between labour and capital or free trade and protection is only a particular case of the larger polarity between what is called in scientific language egoism and altruism, or, in more popular phraseology, individualism and socialism. According to one theory, the best result is obtained by leaving[251] individuals as free as possible to act on their own suggestions of their duties and interests, and confining the intervention216 of the State to enforcing laws for the protection of life and property, and such measures as are obviously necessary for the safety of society. According to the other theory, the State ought to interfere6 wherever the results of individual liberty lead to abuses, and should endeavour to create a society as near to ideal perfection as possible, by administering and regulating the public and private affairs of its citizens. It is obvious that the question has two sides, that extreme conclusions in either direction are, as is always the case, invariably false. Individualism carried too far would disintegrate217 society. It would be impossible to leave it to the short-sighted selfishness of every citizen to say whether an army and navy should be maintained for national defence, and taxes should be levied for their support.
Individualism also easily passes over into a hard and cruel selfishness, which recognises no obligation beyond the letter of the law, and acts practically on the principle of ‘Every one for himself, and the devil take the hindmost.’ It is this phase of individualism which makes enthusiasts218 and men of strong moral and religious sympathies declaim so vehemently219 against laissez faire, and cry aloud, like Carlyle, for a hero or benevolent220 despot who is to scourge221 humanity into the practice of all the virtues.
On the other hand, Socialism, if not confined within rigid limits of experience and common sense, is even more destructive in its consequences. Civilised society is based on the security of private property and the observance of contracts. If these are liable, not merely[252] to be regulated in extreme and exceptional cases, but to be absolutely condemned222 in principle, as by Socialists of the Proudhon school, who declare, ‘La propriété c’est le vol;’ or overruled and set aside whenever they are thought to conflict with humanitarian223 scruples224 or sentimental225 aspirations226, society would be dissolved into its elements, to crystallise anew about some military dictator or other strong form of repressive government, who could restore it to a state of stable equilibrium227 in accordance with these fundamental laws.
No society based on the community of goods has ever existed, except on a very limited scale and for a very short time, under some strong temporary influence such as religious excitement. In the early Christian228 Church it only existed as long as its members were a handful of humble individuals who were impressed with the idea that the end of the world was close at hand, and that sacrifices made on earth would be repaid at an early day with compound interest in heaven. They acted on what was almost as much a principle of enlightened selfishness as if they had placed their money on the best possible security at the highest possible interest.
The only existing society, as far as I am aware, which has everything in common, is a small sect137 of Shakers in the United States, which owes its limited success to two conditions—first, that there is no marrying or giving in marriage; secondly, that a member invented a patent rat-trap—conditions which are hardly likely to survive in the struggle for life and become a type for general adoption229.
The nearest approach to Communism in practical operation on a large scale is that of the village communities[253] of Russia and parts of India, which certainly show no signs of being progressive types destined230 to gain ground. On the contrary, they fail to fulfil what is the first condition of an agricultural community, that of obtaining a fair average produce from the soil, and the more enterprising and intelligent moujiks or ryots invariably seek to obtain something which they can call their own and are not obliged to share with the idle and improvident231. A conclusive objection to all schemes of Socialism or Communism is, that they not only crush out all individual initiative and enterprise in material life, but that they also destroy all incentives232 to individual charity and benevolence234. Why make sacrifices to help others, if they are already helped at your expense by the State? This is no theoretical objection, but has been proved practically by the history of the poor laws. What scope for individual charity was there in a parish like that in Buckinghamshire, where under the old poor law the rate had risen to twenty shillings in the pound, and the cultivation235 of the soil was abandoned? Or even in less extreme cases, any one who is acquainted with remote rural parishes inhabited by cotters and small farmers must be aware that the poor law operates strongly to destroy the feeling of manly independence and family affection which induced the poor to support their own aged and infirm relatives.
In many parts of Scotland with which I am personally acquainted men who a generation ago would have thought it a disgrace to ask for help to support an aged father or mother, now think it only fair play, after having contributed for years to the poor rate, to try and get something out of it in return.
[254]
Altruism, as Herbert Spencer well puts it, if carried to excess, defeats itself, for in annihilating236 egoistic vices143 it annihilates237 egoistic virtues, and the result is zero—a result which, as ‘nature abhors238 a vacuum,’ can happily never be attained239, and the precepts240 of the Sermon on the Mount must always remain maxims241 of private morality, rather than of State regulation.
It is of little use, however, to deal with such generalities; as long as we confine ourselves to extreme instances on either side, it is as easy as it is idle to refute them. Profitable discussion only begins when we enter on the wide intermediate space which lies between the extreme frontier provinces, and, instead of arguing for absolute conclusions, endeavour to discover the happy mean in doubtful cases, where there really are limitations of time and circumstance, and a good deal which may be reasonably said on each side of the question.
Take for instance the case of contract, which has been so much discussed with reference to the Irish question. Nothing can be clearer than that the enforcement of contracts is one of the principal duties of a government. The principle of caveat242 emptor may occasionally lead to results not altogether consistent with strict morality; but there will always be fools in the world, and it is better they should pay for their folly than that the State should be perpetually interfering243 in the vain attempt to protect them. The bargain may be a bad one, but it is far better that men should be held to their bargains than that every loser should have a loophole provided to escape by appealing to some legal quibble or State-provided tribunal of arbitration.
But there are limits to this salutary principle. The[255] contract must be a free one, freely entered into by parties who meet on equal terms. If it is a compulsory244 one, which the weaker party has practically no option of refusing, the case is altered. Thus, in the case of children, it is absurd to say that they are free agents in contracting for the disposal of their labour, and the State properly interferes245 by Factory Acts to limit the number of hours for which they are to work. So in the relations between landlord and tenant, whenever they meet on equal terms, and the tenant has an option of either taking or refusing to take a farm at the rent asked, both sides must be held to their bargain, however disadvantageous it may turn out for either of them. But if the landlord is practically omnipotent246, and the tenant has no alternative but to promise to pay an impossible rent or to be turned out on the roadside and die of starvation, it is by no means so clear that the State should enforce the bargain unless the landlord submits to equitable247 terms. Or again, if the rent is not due to the intrinsic value of the land, but is a confiscation248 of the tenant’s improvements, it is far from being self-evident that the law should look only at landlords’ rights and forget all about landlords’ duties.
It is a question rather of fact than of argument or assertion, whether such a state of things does or does not prevail at any particular time in any particular country. If the contracts were fair bargains entered into by free agents, they ought to be enforced whether prices have risen or fallen, leaving it to the humanity and self-interest of landlords to make reasonable reductions. But if they were no more equal bargains than those of slaves or factory-children, the State might[256] fairly interfere to attach equitable conditions to the enforcement of inequitable contracts.
The antithesis249 between the rights and duties of property, especially in the case of land, is one which raises many nice and difficult questions. Some theorists, like Henry George, are for solving it by ignoring the rights altogether. According to them, private property in land is the source of all the evils that afflict250 modern society; poverty, depressions of trade, low profits, and low wages are caused by the constant drift towards high rents, due to the possession by a small section of the community of a monopoly in that which is as much a necessity of existence as air or water. Abolish private property in land, and straightway you will have the millennium.
In this extreme form the fallacy of the argument is obvious. You cannot stop at land, but must have the courage of your opinion, and go the full length, with Proudhon, of denouncing all property as robbery. For if the right of individual property is the first condition of civilised society, you can hardly exclude that form of it which, in all ages and all countries, has been practically the most powerful incentive233 to progress and civilisation251.
Compare the United States of America under their homestead laws, with Russia under a system of village communes; or the California of to-day with that of fifty years ago under the Jesuit padres; and you will see that the desire to acquire property in land has been what may be called the high-pressure steam supplying the motive252 power to reclaim101 continents and multiply population.
Nor in principle is there any argument for the confiscation of land which would not equally apply to the[257] confiscation of any other sort of property, when theorists, philanthropic at other people’s expense, thought that the owner had more than was good for him, or had acquired it as an unearned increment253, without working for it. Suppose two men, A and B, employed as engine-drivers on an American railway, have each saved a hundred dollars. The railway has been a failure: intended to reach a distant terminus, it has stopped halfway254 in a desert, for want of funds, and for years has paid no dividend. The hundred-dollar shares are only worth ten, and the land at the distant terminus is only worth ten dollars an acre. But A and B are sharp fellows, and see that if speculation ever revives the line will probably be completed, and both shares and land will become valuable. A buys ten shares with his hundred dollars, and B ten acres of land. The boom comes, the capital is found, the line completed, and the shares rise to par, and the land to a hundred dollars an acre. A and B have each realised nine hundred dollars by what may be described, as you like to put it, either as an unearned increment or as providence255 and foresight256. On what principle can you confiscate257 B’s nine hundred dollars because it is in land, and leave A’s untouched because it is in shares?
On the other hand, there is no doubt that when we come to more complex cases, in which land is held in large masses, fenced in, not by the natural right of a man to the produce of his own exertions258, but by artificial legal systems of inheritance and settlement, we are on neutral ground, where fair discussion is possible as to the limitations and conditions under which the State may afford its protection. Landed property is more the creature of law, and runs greater risks in case of[258] revolution or communistic legislation, than personal property, which is more easily concealed259 or transferred. It is not unreasonable260, therefore, that it should pay a higher insurance in the form of taxation261, and especially when it passes by inheritance or settlement, when the new owner’s title is to a great extent artificial and the creation of the law. No one can dispute the abstract justice of a succession duty on all property, landed or personal, in proportion to its amount, passing by operation of law: the only question can be as to the amount, and the expediency262 of confining it within limits that shall not trench263 on confiscation or impair264 the desire to accumulate capital. And in the case of land, there is no doubt that there are a good many instances in which the question of the ‘unearned increment’ is raised more forcibly than in the case of ordinary property. Take a practical instance within my own knowledge, for an illustration is often better than an argument. There was a mountain property in Wales which, as a sheep or cattle farm, might be worth at the outside 800l. a year. Coal and iron were discovered under it, capitalists sank pits and erected266 works, two or three sets lost their money; but the works were carried on, a large amount of labour was employed, and in course of time a town of some eight or nine thousand inhabitants, sprang up. The proprietor’s 800l. a year grew into 8,000l. from fixed rents and royalties267, which he has enjoyed for the last thirty years, through good times and bad, without being called on to contribute a penny towards schools, churches, roads, sewers268, water, or any of the local objects necessary for the civilised existence of the population of eight thousand whose labour has added to his wealth. I do not blame him: the law told him[259] to do what he liked with his own, and it probably never occurred to him that he was under any moral obligation to go beyond the law. But I do think that the law would have been more just, and better for the interests of the community, if it had made some portion of this unearned increment of 7,000l. a year liable for a contribution towards the sanitary269 and other objects essential for the decent existence of the town which had grown up on this property and given it this increased value. I cannot help thinking that centuries of landlord legislation, and of a public opinion based mainly on that of the wealthy and specially of the landed classes, have made our laws in many respects too favourable to the predominant interests, and that the swing of the pendulum270 now is, and properly is, in the direction of recognising the duties as well as the rights of property.
We must take care, however, not to let it swing too far in this direction, for of the two evils it is better to put up with occasional cases of hardship and oppression on the part of bad landlords than to endanger the security of property by reforms pushed to extremes at the dictation of impulsive271 masses, designing demagogues, or sentimental philanthropists.
Herbert Spencer, in his works on Sociology, often dwells with great force on the evils which arise from State interference. There can be no doubt that it is very undesirable272 that the State should become a sort of Jack-of-all-trades, and undertake branches of business which can be conducted by private enterprise. It is undesirable for two reasons: first, because the work is certain to cost more and be worse done; secondly, for the still more important reason that it tends to extinguish individual enterprise, strangle progress with red-tape,[260] and teach a nation to look, like children to outside guidance, rather than, like men to their own. Still the question has two sides. Whatever individual enterprise can do should be left to it; but there are, in the complex conditions of modern society, a number of things which cannot be done by individuals, and which must either be left undone273 or done by the State, or by some local authority, joint-stock company, or other quasi-monopoly sanctioned by the State. Thus, if it were a question of bringing coals from Newcastle by sea, no one would suggest that the State should interfere with the private enterprise of individual shipowners. But to bring them by land requires railways, and railways can only be built by capitals beyond the reach of private individuals. If the State had not delegated a portion of its powers to joint-stock companies, not a ton of coal would ever have been brought by land to London.
And if the State may thus occasionally delegate its powers with advantage to the community, there are cases in which it may, with equal advantage, undertake itself branches of the nation’s business. For instance, the Postal274 Service. The advantages of a cheap and uniform system for the collection and delivery of letters throughout the whole kingdom are so great that they far outweigh275 any theoretical objections to State interference. Possibly some of the larger towns might have been as well or better served by private enterprise, but no non-paying district would have had a post-office, and the enormous commercial and educational benefits of the penny post would have been in a great measure lost to the community.
The case of telegraphs is not so clear. Probably, on the whole, the advantages of a uniform State management[261] preponderate63, but there are drawbacks which make it doubtful. Even at a sixpenny rate a great deal of the telegraphic communication of the large towns and active centres of business is taxed to make up for the deficiency of the rest of the kingdom. And invention and improvement in telegraphy are no doubt checked to a considerable extent by creating a State monopoly whose first duty it is to try to satisfy its masters at the Treasury276 by making the system pay.
When we come to railways we are on debateable ground, and it is fairly arguable that they should be worked by the State for the public good. But the objections here outweigh the advantages. Every one who has any practical experience of the working of railways must be aware that the simplicity277 and uniformity of the penny postal system are totally inapplicable, and that the traffic of the country requires, above all things, great freedom and elasticity278 in meeting, day by day, the varying contingencies279 which arise. Here is an illustration: In a certain town in France, on a railway worked by the State, it was determined to have a fête in order to raise funds for a hospital, and, as an attraction, to bring down from Paris a small troop of actors and have a play in the evening. The question turned on the railway consenting to give them a reduced fare for the return journey. The manager of the railway was quite willing, but said that he had no power to alter the tariff280 without permission from the Minister of Public Works. The permission was applied281 for, and the result was that it arrived exactly on the day twelve months after the fête had been held.
Contrast this with the case of the general manager of the London and North Western Railway sitting in[262] his office at Euston and receiving half a dozen telegrams asking him to quote special rates, one perhaps for beef from Chicago to London, another for emigrants282 from Hamburg to New York via Liverpool, and all requiring telegraphic answers then and there, if the business is to be done at all.
Again, if railways had been in the hands of the State, I do not suppose that we should have had half our present mileage283; for the Treasury would never have sanctioned the outlay284 of public money on lines which could not show the prospect285 of a fair return on the capital, and it would have vetoed any multiplication286 of trains or reduction of rates which threatened loss to the exchequer287. I can speak with some authority on this point, for I have been both Chairman of a railway company and Secretary of the Treasury, and I am certain that, in the former capacity, I have introduced important innovations, such as excursion trains and cheap periodical tickets, by which the public have greatly benefited, which I should have vetoed in the latter capacity.
Still there may be exceptional cases, as that of Ireland, where an unreasonable number of poor companies, in a poor country, wrangling288 among themselves, and giving a bad service at an excessive cost, intensify289 social and political evils, where the arguments in favour of a State purchase may outweigh the objections; and the extent and nature of State control over British railways is always a question fairly open to discussion.
In other departments, the supply of articles such as water and gas, and the enforcement of sanitary conditions, are probably best left to local authorities: in the latter case, under some central supervision290 to see[263] that the duty is not evaded291. Wherever neglect involves danger to others, as in the case of small-pox and other contagious292 epidemics293, it is clear that the decision cannot be left to individuals, and the State is bound to interfere to enforce rational precautions.
So also the State is bound to undertake trades which are essential for the protection of the nation against foreign enemies. Our dockyards and arsenals294 may, and doubtless do, often make mistakes and turn out expensive work; but we could not safely leave the building of ironclads and supply of cannon295 solely296 to private enterprise, for there is no such large and steady demand for such articles as would induce a number of private firms to erect265 works and keep up establishments adequate to supply the wants which might arise in an emergency. In all such matters, therefore, of national defence we must put up with a certain amount of drawbacks incidental to State management, and confine ourselves to endeavouring to reduce them to a minimum. And this is to a great extent within the power of the nation and its Parliament, by applying common-sense principles of business to national expenditure297, and seeing that while on the one hand we get as nearly as possible a pound’s worth of work for every pound spent, on the other hand we do not spend nineteen shillings uselessly, because some Chancellor298 of the Exchequer wants to gain momentary299 popularity by the ‘penny wise and pound foolish’ economy of docking the extra shilling off the necessary estimates. In private life a man gets on by knowing when to spend as well as when not to spend, and true economy has no greater foe300 than spasmodic parsimony301 alternating almost certainly with spasmodic extravagance. It would be[264] easy to multiply instances, for there are few phases of political and practical life to which the principle of polarity does not apply, where extremes are not false, and where there is not a good deal to be said on both sides of the question. But the very obviousness of the principle makes it difficult to deal with it generally without degenerating302 into commonplace, while to trace its application exhaustively in any one instance would require a volume. Those who wish to pursue the subject further will do well to study the works of Herbert Spencer, where they will find the application of general principles to all the problems of sociology treated with a depth of philosophic303 insight and an abundance and aptness of illustration which I cannot pretend to equal. My ambition is of a humbler nature. I do not expect to set the Thames on fire, or to produce a revolution in modern thought; but I do hope that the views which I have endeavoured to express may do somewhat to make some readers more tolerant and charitable in their judgments304, less bitter and one-sided in controversy305; and that whatever truth there may be in my ideas will contribute to form a small part, neither more nor less than it deserves, of the great body of truth which is handed down from the present to succeeding generations, and which becomes, long after I am there to witness it, the inheritance of the human race in the course of its evolution.
And now, before I take my final leave of the reader, let me for a few moments throw the reins306 on the neck of fancy, and suppose myself standing307 with that group of Parsees by the shore of the Indian Ocean, listening to its murmured rhythm, inhaling308 the balmy air, watching the silver crescent of the new moon, and musing[265] on the wise sayings of the ancient sage309; the sum of the reflections which I have tried to embody310 in the preceding pages would take form and crystallise in the following sonnet:—
Hail! gracious Ormuzd, author of all good,
Spirit of beauty, purity, and light;
Teach me like thee to hate dark deeds of night,
And battle ever with the hellish brood
Unreason, ugliness, and fancies lewd—
Grant me, bright Ormuzd, in thy ranks to stand,
Bound for the great Unknown, shall I commend
My soul, if soul survive, into thy hand—
Fearless of fate if thou thine aid will lend.
The End
The End
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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par
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| 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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rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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altruism
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| n.利他主义，不自私 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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21
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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22
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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23
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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24
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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25
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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26
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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27
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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28
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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29
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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30
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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31
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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32
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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33
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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34
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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35
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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36
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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37
epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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38
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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39
momentum
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|
| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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40
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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41
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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42
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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43
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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44
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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45
slashing
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| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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46
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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47
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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48
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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49
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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50
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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51
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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52
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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53
humble
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|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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54
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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55
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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56
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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57
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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58
centripetal
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| adj.向心的 | |
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59
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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60
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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61
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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62
preponderates
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| v.超过，胜过( preponderate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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63
preponderate
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| v.数目超过；占优势 | |
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64
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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65
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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66
administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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67
hierarchies
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| 等级制度( hierarchy的名词复数 )； 统治集团； 领导层； 层次体系 | |
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68
aggregate
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| adj.总计的，集合的；n.总数；v.合计；集合 | |
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69
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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70
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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71
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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72
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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73
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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74
colonists
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| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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75
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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76
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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77
hewing
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的现在分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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78
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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79
annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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80
stagnate
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| v.停止 | |
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81
witty
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|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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82
conclusive
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|
| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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83
integration
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| n.一体化，联合，结合 | |
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84
restrictions
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|
| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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85
socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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86
harangues
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|
| n.高谈阔论的长篇演讲( harangue的名词复数 )v.高谈阔论( harangue的第三人称单数 ) | |
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87
volcanic
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|
| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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88
irresistible
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|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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89
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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90
writs
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| n.书面命令，令状( writ的名词复数 ) | |
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91
eviction
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| n.租地等的收回 | |
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92
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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93
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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94
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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95
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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96
levied
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| 征（兵）( levy的过去式和过去分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
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97
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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98
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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99
squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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100
delves
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的第三人称单数 ) | |
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101
reclaim
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| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
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102
reclaims
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| v.开拓( reclaim的第三人称单数 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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103
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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104
calamitous
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| adj.灾难的，悲惨的；多灾多难；惨重 | |
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105
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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106
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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107
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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108
repeal
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| n.废止，撤消；v.废止，撤消 | |
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109
arbitration
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| n.调停，仲裁 | |
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110
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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111
fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
precedents
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| 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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113
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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114
contractors
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| n.（建筑、监造中的）承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
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115
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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116
engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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117
dilatory
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| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
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118
extort
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| v.勒索，敲诈，强要 | |
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119
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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120
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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121
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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122
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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123
codification
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| n.法典编纂，法律成文化；法规汇编 | |
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124
registration
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| n.登记，注册，挂号 | |
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125
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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126
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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127
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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128
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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129
requisites
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| n.必要的事物( requisite的名词复数 ) | |
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130
athletics
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| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
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131
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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132
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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133
debit
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| n.借方，借项，记人借方的款项 | |
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134
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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135
elicits
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| 引出，探出( elicit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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136
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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137
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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138
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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139
parsing
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| n.分[剖]析，分解v.从语法上描述或分析（词句等）( parse的现在分词 ) | |
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140
thoroughly
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|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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141
awakens
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的第三人称单数 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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142
format
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| n.设计，版式；[计算机]格式，DOS命令:格式化(磁盘)，用于空盘或使用过的磁盘建立新空盘来存储数据；v.使格式化，设计，安排 | |
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143
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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144
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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145
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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146
component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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147
phonetic
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| adj.语言的，语言上的，表示语音的 | |
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148
instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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149
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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150
stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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151
reverence
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| 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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152
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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153
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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154
attainments
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| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
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155
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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156
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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157
retard
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| n.阻止，延迟；vt.妨碍，延迟，使减速 | |
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158
unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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159
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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160
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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161
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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162
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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163
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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164
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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165
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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166
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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167
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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168
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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169
conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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170
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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171
adherence
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| n.信奉，依附，坚持，固着 | |
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172
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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173
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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174
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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175
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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176
cliques
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| n.小集团，小圈子，派系( clique的名词复数 ) | |
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177
clique
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| n.朋党派系，小集团 | |
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178
heresies
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| n.异端邪说，异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
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179
insularity
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| n.心胸狭窄；孤立；偏狭；岛国根性 | |
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180
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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181
millennium
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| n.一千年，千禧年；太平盛世 | |
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182
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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183
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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184
economist
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| n.经济学家，经济专家，节俭的人 | |
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185
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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186
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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187
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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188
immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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189
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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190
gluts
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| n.供过于求( glut的名词复数 )；过量供应；放纵；尽量v.吃得过多( glut的第三人称单数 )；（对胃口、欲望等）纵情满足；使厌腻；塞满 | |
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191
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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192
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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193
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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194
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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195
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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196
inverse
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| adj.相反的，倒转的，反转的；n.相反之物；v.倒转 | |
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197
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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198
depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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199
diminution
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| n.减少；变小 | |
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200
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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201
consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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202
dividend
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| n.红利，股息；回报，效益 | |
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203
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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204
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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205
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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206
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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207
provident
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| adj.为将来做准备的，有先见之明的 | |
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208
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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209
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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210
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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211
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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212
detriment
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| n.损害；损害物，造成损害的根源 | |
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213
subscribe
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| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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214
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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215
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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216
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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217
disintegrate
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| v.瓦解，解体，（使）碎裂，（使）粉碎 | |
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218
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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219
vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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220
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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221
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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222
condemned
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| 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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223
humanitarian
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| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
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224
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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225
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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226
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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227
equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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228
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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229
adoption
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| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
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230
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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231
improvident
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| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
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232
incentives
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|
| 激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 )； 刺激； 诱因； 动机 | |
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233
incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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234
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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235
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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236
annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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237
annihilates
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|
| n.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的名词复数 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的第三人称单数 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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238
abhors
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| v.憎恶( abhor的第三人称单数 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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239
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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240
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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241
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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242
caveat
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| n.警告； 防止误解的说明 | |
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243
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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244
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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245
interferes
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| vi. 妨碍，冲突，干涉 | |
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246
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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247
equitable
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| adj.公平的；公正的 | |
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248
confiscation
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| n. 没收, 充公, 征收 | |
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249
antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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250
afflict
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| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
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251
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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252
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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253
increment
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| n.增值，增价；提薪，增加工资 | |
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254
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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255
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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256
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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257
confiscate
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| v.没收(私人财产)，把…充公 | |
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258
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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259
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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260
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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261
taxation
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| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
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262
expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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263
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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264
impair
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| v.损害，损伤；削弱，减少 | |
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265
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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266
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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267
royalties
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| 特许权使用费 | |
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268
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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269
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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270
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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271
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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272
undesirable
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|
| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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273
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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274
postal
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| adj.邮政的，邮局的 | |
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275
outweigh
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| vt.比...更重，...更重要 | |
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276
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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277
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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278
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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282
emigrants
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| n.（从本国移往他国的）移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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283
mileage
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| n.里程，英里数；好处，利润 | |
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284
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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285
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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286
multiplication
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| n.增加，增多，倍增；增殖，繁殖；乘法 | |
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287
exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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288
wrangling
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| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
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289
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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290
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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291
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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293
epidemics
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| n．流行病 | |
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294
arsenals
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| n.兵工厂，军火库( arsenal的名词复数 )；任何事物的集成 | |
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295
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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296
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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298
chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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299
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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300
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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301
parsimony
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| n.过度节俭，吝啬 | |
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302
degenerating
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的现在分词 ) | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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310
embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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312
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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313
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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