This attitude of self-examination is hardly characteristic of the people as a whole. Particularly it is not characteristic of the historic American. He has been an opportunist rather than a dealer1 in general ideas. Destiny set him in a current which bore him swiftly along through such a wealth of opportunity that reflection and well-considered planning seemed wasted time. He knew not where he was going, but he was on his way, cheerful, optimistic, busy and buoyant.
To-day we are reaching a changed condition, less apparent perhaps, in the newer regions than in the old, but sufficiently3 obvious to extend the commencement frame of mind from the college to the country as a whole. The swift and inevitable4 current of the upper reaches of the nation's history has borne it to the broader expanse and slower stretches which mark the nearness of the level sea. The vessel5, no longer carried along by the rushing waters, finds it necessary to determine its own [291]directions on this new ocean of its future, to give conscious consideration to its motive6 power and to its steering7 gear.
It matters not so much that those who address these college men and women upon life, give conflicting answers to the questions of whence and whither: the pause for remembrance, for reflection and for aspiration8 is wholesome9 in itself.
Although the American people are becoming more self-conscious, more responsive to the appeal to act by deliberate choices, we should be over-sanguine if we believed that even in this new day these commencement surveys were taken to heart by the general public, or that they were directly and immediately influential10 upon national thought and action.
But even while we check our enthusiasm by this realization11 of the common thought, we must take heart. The University's peculiar12 privilege and distinction lie in the fact that it is not the passive instrument of the State to voice its current ideas. Its problem is not that of expressing tendencies. Its mission is to create tendencies and to direct them. Its problem is that of leadership and of ideals. It is called, of course, to justify13 the support which the public gives it, by working in close and sympathetic touch with those it serves. More than that, it would lose important element of strength if it failed to recognize the fact that improvement and creative movement often come from the masses themselves, instinctively15 moving toward a better order. The University's graduates must be fitted to take their places naturally and effectually in the common life of the time.
But the University is called especially to justify its existence by giving to its sons and daughters something which they could not well have gotten through the ordinary experiences of the life outside its walls. It is called to serve the time by independent research and by original thought. If it were a mere16 recording17 instrument of conventional opinion and [292]average information, it is hard to see why the University should exist at all. To clasp hands with the common life in order that it may lift that life, to be a radiant center enkindling the society in which it has its being, these are primary duties of the University. Fortunate the State which gives free play to this spirit of inquiry18. Let it "grubstake" its intellectual prospectors19 and send them forth20 where "the trails run out and stop." A famous scientist holds that the universal ether bears vital germs which impinging upon a dead world would bring life to it. So, at least it is, in the world of thought, where energized21 ideals put in the air and carried here and there by the waves and currents of the intellectual atmosphere, fertilize22 vast inert23 areas.
The University, therefore, has a double duty. On the one hand it must aid in the improvement of the general economic and social environment. It must help on in the work of scientific discovery and of making such conditions of existence, economic, political and social, as will produce more fertile and responsive soil for a higher and better life. It must stimulate24 a wider demand on the part of the public for right leadership. It must extend its operations more widely among the people and sink deeper shafts25 through social strata26 to find new supplies of intellectual gold in popular levels yet untouched. And on the other hand, it must find and fit men and women for leadership. It must both awaken27 new demands and it must satisfy those demands by trained leaders with new motives28, with new incentives30 to ambition, with higher and broader conception of what constitute the prize in life, of what constitutes success. The University has to deal with both the soil and sifted31 seed in the agriculture of the human spirit.
Its efficiency is not the efficiency which the business engineer is fitted to appraise32. If it is a training ship, it is a training [293]ship bound on a voyage of discovery, seeking new horizons. The economy of the University's consumption can only be rightly measured by the later times which shall possess those new realms of the spirit which its voyage shall reveal. If the ships of Columbus had engaged in a profitable coastwise traffic between Palos and Cadiz they might have saved sail cloth, but their keels would never have grated on the shores of a New World.
The appeal of the undiscovered is strong in America. For three centuries the fundamental process in its history was the westward33 movement, the discovery and occupation of the vast free spaces of the continent. We are the first generation of Americans who can look back upon that era as a historic movement now coming to its end. Other generations have been so much a part of it that they could hardly comprehend its significance. To them it seemed inevitable. The free land and the natural resources seemed practically inexhaustible. Nor were they aware of the fact that their most fundamental traits, their institutions, even their ideals were shaped by this interaction between the wilderness34 and themselves.
American democracy was born of no theorist's dream; it was not carried in the Susan Constant to Virginia, nor in the Mayflower to Plymouth. It came out of the American forest, and it gained new strength each time it touched a new frontier. Not the constitution, but free land and an abundance of natural resources open to a fit people, made the democratic type of society in America for three centuries while it occupied its empire.
To-day we are looking with a shock upon a changed world. The national problem is no longer how to cut and burn away the vast screen of the dense35 and daunting36 forest; it is how to save and wisely use the remaining timber. It is no longer [294]how to get the great spaces of fertile prairie land in humid zones out of the hands of the government into the hands of the pioneer; these lands have already passed into private possession. No longer is it a question of how to avoid or cross the Great Plains and the arid37 desert. It is a question of how to conquer those rejected lands by new method of farming and by cultivating new crops from seed collected by the government and by scientists from the cold, dry steppes of Siberia, the burning sands of Egypt, and the remote interior of China. It is a problem of how to bring the precious rills of water on to the alkali and sage38 brush. Population is increasing faster than the food supply.
New farm lands no longer increase decade after decade in areas equal to those of European states. While the ratio of increase of improved land declines, the value of farm lands rise and the price of food leaps upward, reversing the old ratio between the two. The cry of scientific farming and the conservation of natural resources replaces the cry of rapid conquest of the wilderness. We have so far won our national home, wrested39 from it its first rich treasures, and drawn40 to it the unfortunate of other lands, that we are already obliged to compare ourselves with settled states of the Old World. In place of our attitude of contemptuous indifference41 to the legislation of such countries as Germany and England, even Western States like Wisconsin send commissions to study their systems of taxation42, workingmen's insurance, old age pensions and a great variety of other remedies for social ills.
If we look about the periphery43 of the nation, everywhere we see the indications that our world is changing. On the streets of Northeastern cities like New York and Boston, the faces which we meet are to a surprising extent those of Southeastern Europe. Puritan New England, which turned its capital into factories and mills and drew to its shores an army of [295]cheap labor44, governed these people for a time by a ruling class like an upper stratum45 between which and the lower strata there was no assimilation. There was no such evolution into an assimilated commonwealth46 as is seen in Middle Western agricultural States, where immigrant and old native stock came in together and built up a homogeneous society on the principle of give and take. But now the Northeastern coast finds its destiny, politically and economically, passing away from the descendants of the Puritans. It is the little Jewish boy, the Greek or the Sicilian, who takes the traveler through historic streets, now the home of these newer people to the Old North Church or to Paul Revere's house, or to Tea Wharf47, and tells you in his strange patois48 the story of revolution against oppression.
Along the Southern Atlantic and the Gulf49 coast, in spite of the preservative50 influence of the negro, whose presence has always called out resistance to change on the part of the whites, the forces of social and industrial transformation51 are at work. The old tidewater aristocracy has surrendered to the up-country democrats52. Along the line of the Alleghanies like an advancing column, the forces of Northern capital, textile and steel mills, year after year extend their invasion into the lower South. New Orleans, once the mistress of the commerce of the Mississippi Valley, is awakening53 to new dreams of world commerce. On the southern border, similar invasions of American capital have been entering Mexico. At the same time, the opening of the Panama Canal has completed the dream of the ages of the Straits of Anian between Atlantic and Pacific. Four hundred years ago, Balboa raised the flag of Spain at the edge of the Sea of the West and we are now preparing to celebrate both that anniversary, and the piercing of the continent. New relations have been created between Spanish America and the United States and the world [296]is watching the mediation54 of Argentina, Brazil and Chile between the contending forces of Mexico and the union. Once more alien national interests lie threatening at our borders, but we no longer appeal to the Monroe Doctrine55 and send our armies of frontiersmen to settle our concerns off-hand. We take council with European nations and with the sisterhood of South America, and propose a remedy of social reorganization in place of imperious will and force. Whether the effort will succeed or not, it is a significant indication that an old order is passing away, when such a solution is undertaken by a President of Scotch56 Presbyterian stock, born in the State of Virginia.
If we turn to the Northern border, where we are about to celebrate a century of peace with England, we see in progress, like a belated procession of our own history the spread of pioneers, the opening of new wildernesses57, the building of new cities, the growth of a new and mighty58 nation. That old American advance of the wheat farmer from the Connecticut to the Mohawk, and the Genesee, from the Great Valley of Pennsylvania to the Ohio Valley and the prairies of the Middle West, is now by its own momentum59 and under the stimulus60 of Canadian homesteads and the high price of wheat, carried across the national border to the once lone61 plains where the Hudson Bay dog trains crossed the desolate62 snows of the wild North Land. In the Pacific Northwest the era of construction has not ended, but it is so rapidly in progress that we can already see the closing of the age of the pioneer. Already Alaska beckons63 on the north, and pointing to her wealth of natural resources asks the nation on what new terms the new age will deal with her. Across the Pacific looms64 Asia, no longer a remote vision and a symbol of the unchanging, but borne as by mirage65 close to our shores and raising grave questions of the common destiny of the people [297]of the ocean. The dreams of Benton and of Seward of a regenerated66 Orient, when the long march of westward civilization should complete its circle, seem almost to be in process of realization. The age of the Pacific Ocean begins, mysterious and unfathomable in its meaning for our own future.
Turning to view the interior, we see the same picture of change. When the Superintendent67 of the Census68 in 1890 declared the frontier line no longer traceable, the beginning of the rush into Oklahoma had just occurred. Here where the broken fragments of Indian nations from the East had been gathered and where the wilder tribes of the Southwest were being settled, came the rush of the land-hungry pioneer. Almost at a blow the old Indian territory passed away, populous69 cities came into being and it was not long before gushing70 oil wells made a new era of sudden wealth. The farm lands of the Middle West taken as free homesteads or bought for a mere pittance71, have risen so in value that the original owners have in an increasing degree either sold them in order to reinvest in the newer cheap lands of the West, or have moved into the town and have left the tillage to tenant72 farmers. The growth of absentee ownership of the soil is producing a serious problem in the former centers of the Granger and the Populist. Along the Old Northwest the Great Lakes are becoming a new Mediterranean73 Sea joining the realms of wheat and iron ore, at one end with the coal and furnaces of the forks of the Ohio, where the most intense and wide-reaching center of industrial energy exists. City life like that of the East, manufactures and accumulated capital, seem to be reproducing in the center of the Republic the tendencies already so plain on the Atlantic Coast.
Across the Great Plains where buffalo74 and Indian held sway successive industrial waves are passing. The old free range gave place to the ranch75, the ranch to the homestead and now [298]in places in the arid lands the homestead is replaced by the ten or twenty acre irrigated76 fruit farm. The age of cheap land, cheap corn and wheat, and cheap cattle has gone forever. The federal government has undertaken vast paternal77 enterprises of reclamation78 of the desert.
In the Rocky Mountains where at the time of Civil War, the first important rushes to gold and silver mines carried the frontier backward on a march toward the east, the most amazing transformations79 have occurred. Here, where prospectors made new trails, and lived the wild free life of mountain men, here where the human spirit seemed likely to attain80 the largest measure of individual freedom, and where fortune beckoned81 to the common man, have come revolutions wrought82 by the demand for organized industry and capital. In the regions where the popular tribunal and the free competitive life flourished, we have seen law and order break down in the unmitigated collision of great aggregations83 of capital, with each other and with organized socialistic labor. The Cripple Creek84 strikes, the contests at Butte, the Goldfield mobs, the recent Colorado fighting, all tell a similar story,—the solid impact of contending forces in regions where civic85 power and loyalty86 to the State have never fully87 developed. Like the Grand Ca?on, where in dazzling light the huge geologic88 history is written so large that none may fail to read it, so in the Rocky Mountains the dangers of modern American industrial tendencies have been exposed.
As we crossed the Cascades89 on our way to Seattle, one of the passengers was moved to explain his feeling on the excellence90 of Puget Sound in contrast with the remaining visible Universe. He did it well in spite of irreverent interruptions from those fellow travelers who were unconverted children of the East, and at last he broke forth in passionate91 challenge, "Why should I not love Seattle! It took me from the slums [299]of the Atlantic Coast, a poor Swedish boy with hardly fifteen dollars in my pocket. It gave me a home by the beautiful sea; it spread before my eyes a vision of snow-capped peaks and smiling fields; it brought abundance and a new life to me and my children and I love it, I love it! If I were a multi-millionaire I would charter freight cars and carry away from the crowded tenements92 and noisome93 alleys94 of the eastern cities and the Old World the toiling95 masses, and let them loose in our vast forests and ore-laden mountains to learn what life really is!" And my heart was stirred by his words and by the whirling spaces of woods and peaks through which we passed.
But as I looked and listened to this passionate outcry, I remembered the words of Talleyrand, the exiled Bishop96 of Autun, in Washington's administration. Looking down from an eminence97 not far from Philadelphia upon a wilderness which is now in the heart of that huge industrial society where population presses on the means of life, even the cold-blooded and cynical98 Talleyrand, gazing on those unpeopled hills and forests, kindled99 with the vision of coming clearings, the smiling farms and grazing herds100 that were to be, the populous towns that should be built, the newer and finer social organization that should there arise. And then I remembered the hall in Harvard's museum of social ethics101 through which I pass to my lecture room when I speak on the history of the Westward movement. That hall is covered with an exhibit of the work in Pittsburgh steel mills, and of the congested tenements. Its charts and diagrams tell of the long hours of work, the death rate, the relation of typhoid to the slums, the gathering102 of the poor of all Southeastern Europe to make a civilization at that center of American industrial energy and vast capital that is a social tragedy. As I enter my lecture room through that hall, I speak of the young Washington [300]leading his Virginia frontiersmen to the magnificent forest at the forks of the Ohio. Where Braddock and his men, "carving103 a cross on the wilderness rim," were struck by the painted savages104 in the primeval woods, huge furnaces belch105 forth perpetual fires and Huns and Bulgars, Poles and Sicilians struggle for a chance to earn their daily bread, and live a brutal106 and degraded life. Irresistibly107 there rushed across my mind the memorable108 words of Huxley:
"Even the best of modern civilization appears to me to exhibit a condition of mankind which neither embodies109 any worthy110 ideal nor even possesses the merit of stability. I do not hesitate to express the opinion that, if there is no hope of a large improvement of the condition of the greater part of the human family; if it is true that the increase of knowledge, the winning of a greater dominion111 over Nature, which is its consequence, and the wealth which follows upon that dominion, are to make no difference in the extent and the intensity112 of Want, with its concomitant physical and moral degradation113, among the masses of the people, I should hail the advent114 of some kindly115 comet, which would sweep the whole affair away, as a desirable consummation."
But if there is disillusion116 and shock and apprehension117 as we come to realize these changes, to strong men and women there is challenge and inspiration in them too. In place of old frontiers of wilderness, there are new frontiers of unwon fields of science, fruitful for the needs of the race; there are frontiers of better social domains118 yet unexplored. Let us hold to our attitude of faith and courage, and creative zeal120. [301]Let us dream as our fathers dreamt and let us make our dreams come true.
"Daughters of Time, the hypocritic days,
And marching single in an endless file,
To each they offer gifts after his will
Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that hold them all.
I, in my pleachéd garden watched the pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples and the day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet, saw the scorn!"
What were America's "morning wishes"? From the beginning of that long westward march of the American people America has never been the home of mere contented123 materialism124. It has continuously sought new ways and dreamed of a perfected social type.
In the fifteenth century when men dealt with the New World which Columbus found, the ideal of discovery was dominant125. Here was placed within the reach of men whose ideas had been bounded by the Atlantic, new realms to be explored. America became the land of European dreams, its Fortunate Islands were made real, where, in the imagination of old Europe, peace and happiness, as well as riches and eternal youth, were to be found. To Sir Edwin Sandys and his friends of the London Company, Virginia offered an opportunity to erect126 the Republic for which they had longed in vain in England. To the Puritans, New England was the new land of freedom, wherein they might establish the institutions of God, according to their own faith. As the vision died away in Virginia toward the close of the seventeenth century, it was taken up anew by the fiery127 Bacon with his revolution to establish a real democracy in place of the rule of the [302]planter aristocracy, that formed along the coast. Hardly had he been overthrown128 when in the eighteenth century, the democratic ideal was rejuvenated129 by the strong frontiersmen, who pressed beyond the New England Coast into the Berkshires and up the valleys of the Green Mountains of Vermont, and by the Scotch-Irish and German pioneers who followed the Great Valley from Pennsylvania into the Upland South. In both the Yankee frontiersmen and the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians of the South, the Calvinistic conception of the importance of the individual, bound by free covenant130 to his fellow men and to God, was a compelling influence, and all their wilderness experience combined to emphasize the ideals of opening new ways, of giving freer play to the individual, and of constructing democratic society.
When the backwoodsmen crossed the Alleghanies they put between themselves and the Atlantic Coast a barrier which seemed to separate them from a region already too much like the Europe they had left, and as they followed the courses of the rivers that flowed to the Mississippi, they called themselves "Men of the Western Waters," and their new home in the Mississippi Valley was the "Western World." Here, by the thirties, Jacksonian democracy flourished, strong in the faith of the intrinsic excellence of the common man, in his right to make his own place in the world, and in his capacity to share in government. But while Jacksonian democracy demanded these rights, it was also loyal to leadership as the very name implies. It was ready to follow to the uttermost the man in whom it placed its trust, whether the hero were frontier fighter or president, and it even rebuked132 and limited its own legislative133 representatives and recalled its senators when they ran counter to their chosen executive. Jacksonian democracy was essentially134 rural. It was based on the good fellowship and genuine social feeling of the frontier, in which [303]classes and inequalities of fortune played little part. But it did not demand equality of condition, for there was abundance of natural resources and the belief that the self-made man had a right to his success in the free competition which western life afforded, was as prominent in their thought as was the love of democracy. On the other hand, they viewed governmental restraints with suspicion as a limitation on their right to work out their own individuality.
For the banking135 institutions and capitalists of the East they had an instinctive14 antipathy136. Already they feared that the "money power" as Jackson called it, was planning to make hewers of wood and drawers of water of the common people.
In this view they found allies among the labor leaders of the East, who in the same period began their fight for better conditions of the wage earner. These Locofocos were the first Americans to demand fundamental social changes for the benefit of the workers in the cities. Like the Western pioneers, they protested against monopolies and special privilege. But they also had a constructive137 policy, whereby society was to be kept democratic by free gifts of the public land, so that surplus labor might not bid against itself, but might find an outlet138 in the West. Thus to both the labor theorist and the practical pioneer, the existence of what seemed inexhaustible cheap land and unpossessed resources was the condition of democracy. In these years of the thirties and forties, Western democracy took on its distinctive139 form. Travelers like De Tocqueville and Harriet Martineau, came to study and to report it enthusiastically to Europe.
Side by side with this westward marching army of individualistic liberty-loving democratic backwoodsmen, went a more northern stream of pioneers, who cherished similar ideas, but added to them the desire to create new industrial centers, to build up factories, to build railroads, and to develop the [304]country by founding cities and extending prosperity. They were ready to call upon legislatures to aid in this, by subscriptions140 to stock, grants of franchises141, promotion142 of banking and internal improvements. These were the Whig followers143 of that other Western leader, Henry Clay, and their early strength lay in the Ohio Valley, and particularly among the well-to-do. In the South their strength was found among the aristocracy of the Cotton Kingdom.
Both of these Western groups, Whigs and Democrats alike, had one common ideal: the desire to leave their children a better heritage than they themselves had received, and both were fired with devotion to the ideal of creating in this New World a home more worthy of mankind. Both were ready to break with the past, to boldly strike out new lines of social endeavor, and both believed in American expansion.
Before these tendencies had worked themselves out, three new forces entered. In the sudden extension of our boundaries to the Pacific Coast, which took place in the forties, the nation won so vast a domain119 that its resources seemed illimitable and its society seemed able to throw off all its maladies by the very presence of these vast new spaces. At the same period the great activity of railroad building to the Mississippi Valley occurred, making these lands available and diverting attention to the task of economic construction. The third influence was the slavery question which, becoming acute, shaped the American ideals and public discussion for nearly a generation. Viewed from one angle, this struggle involved the great question of national unity2. From another it involved the question of the relations of labor and capital, democracy and aristocracy. It was not without significance that Abraham Lincoln became the very type of American pioneer democracy, the first adequate and elemental demonstration144 to the world [305]that that democracy could produce a man who belonged to the ages.
After the war, new national energies were set loose, and new construction and development engaged the attention of the Westerners as they occupied prairies and Great Plains and mountains. Democracy and capitalistic development did not seem antagonistic145.
With the passing of the frontier, Western social and political ideals took new form. Capital began to consolidate146 in even greater masses, and increasingly attempted to reduce to system and control the processes of industrial development. Labor with equal step organized its forces to destroy the old competitive system. It is not strange that the Western pioneers took alarm for their ideals of democracy as the outcome of the free struggle for the national resources became apparent. They espoused147 the cause of governmental activity.
It was a new gospel, for the Western radical148 became convinced that he must sacrifice his ideal of individualism and free competition in order to maintain his ideal of democracy. Under this conviction the Populist revised the pioneer conception of government. He saw in government no longer something outside of him, but the people themselves shaping their own affairs. He demanded therefore an extension of the powers of governments in the interest of his historic ideal of democratic society. He demanded not only free silver, but the ownership of the agencies of communication and transportation, the income tax, the postal149 savings150 bank, the provision of means of credit for agriculture, the construction of more effective devices to express the will of the people, primary nominations151, direct elections, initiative, referendum and recall. In a word, capital, labor, and the Western pioneer, all deserted152 the ideal of competitive individualism in order to organize [306]their interests in more effective combinations. The disappearance153 of the frontier, the closing of the era which was marked by the influence of the West as a form of society, brings with it new problems of social adjustment, new demands for considering our past ideals and our present needs.
Let us recall the conditions of the foreign relations along our borders, the dangers that wait us if we fail to unite in the solution of our domestic problems. Let us recall those internal evidences of the destruction of our old social order. If we take to heart this warning, we shall do well also to recount our historic ideals, to take stock of those purposes, and fundamental assumptions that have gone to make the American spirit and the meaning of America in world history.
First of all, there was the ideal of discovery, the courageous154 determination to break new paths, indifference to the dogma that because an institution or a condition exists, it must remain. All American experience has gone to the making of the spirit of innovation; it is in the blood and will not be repressed.
Then, there was the ideal of democracy, the ideal of a free self-directing people, responsive to leadership in the forming of programs and their execution, but insistent155 that the procedure should be that of free choice, not of compulsion.
But there was also the ideal of individualism. This democratic society was not a disciplined army, where all must keep step and where the collective interests destroyed individual will and work. Rather it was a mobile mass of freely circulating atoms, each seeking its own place and finding play for its own powers and for its own original initiative. We cannot lay too much stress upon this point, for it was at the very heart of the whole American movement. The world was to be made a better world by the example of a democracy in which there [307]was freedom of the individual, in which there was the vitality156 and mobility157 productive of originality158 and variety.
Bearing in mind the far-reaching influence of the disappearance of unlimited159 resources open to all men for the taking, and considering the recoil160 of the common man when he saw the outcome of the competitive struggle for these resources as the supply came to its end over most of the nation, we can understand the reaction against individualism and in favor of drastic assertion of the powers of government. Legislation is taking the place of the free lands as the means of preserving the ideal of democracy. But at the same time it is endangering the other pioneer ideal of creative and competitive individualism. Both were essential and constituted what was best in America's contribution to history and to progress. Both must be preserved if the nation would be true to its past, and would fulfil its highest destiny. It would be a grave misfortune if these people so rich in experience, in self-confidence and aspiration, in creative genius, should turn to some Old World discipline of socialism or plutocracy161, or despotic rule, whether by class or by dictator. Nor shall we be driven to these alternatives. Our ancient hopes, our courageous faith, our underlying162 good humor and love of fair play will triumph in the end. There will be give and take in all directions. There will be disinterested163 leadership, under loyalty to the best American ideals. Nowhere is this leadership more likely to arise than among the men trained in the Universities, aware of the promise of the past and the possibilities of the future. The times call for new ambitions and new motives.
In a most suggestive essay on the Problems of Modern Democracy, Mr. Godkin has said:
M. de Tocqueville and all his followers take it for granted that the great incentive29 to excellence, [308]in all countries in which excellence is found, is the patronage164 and encouragement of an aristocracy; that democracy is generally content with mediocrity. But where is the proof of this? The incentive to exertion165 which is widest, most constant, and most powerful in its operations in all civilized166 countries, is the desire of distinction; and this may be composed either of love of fame or love of wealth or of both. In literary and artistic167 and scientific pursuits, sometimes the strongest influence is exerted by a love of the subject. But it may safely be said that no man has ever labored168 in any of the higher colleges to whom the applause and appreciation169 of his fellows was not one of the sweetest rewards of his exertions170.
What is there we would ask, in the nature of democratic institutions, that should render this great spring of action powerless, that should deprive glory of all radiance, and put ambition to sleep? Is it not notorious, on the contrary, that one of the most marked peculiarities171 of democratic society, or of a society drifting toward democracy, is the fire of competition which rages in it, the fevered anxiety which possesses all its members to rise above the dead level to which the law is ever seeking to confine them, and by some brilliant stroke become something higher and more remarkable172 than their fellows? The secret of that great restlessness which is one of the most disagreeable accompaniments of life in democratic countries, is in fact due to the eagerness of everybody to grasp the prizes of which in aristocratic countries, only the few have much chance. And in no other [309]society is success more worshiped, is distinction of any kind more widely flattered and caressed173.
In democratic societies, in fact, excellence is the first title to distinction; in aristocratic ones there are two or three others which are far stronger and which must be stronger or aristocracy could not exist. The moment you acknowledge that the highest social position ought to be the reward of the man who has the most talent, you make aristocratic institutions impossible.
All that was buoyant and creative in American life would be lost if we gave up the respect for distinct personality, and variety in genius, and came to the dead level of common standards. To be "socialized into an average" and placed "under the tutelage of the mass of us," as a recent writer has put it, would be an irreparable loss. Nor is it necessary in a democracy, as these words of Godkin well disclose. What is needed is the multiplication174 of motives for ambition and the opening of new lines of achievement for the strongest. As we turn from the task of the first rough conquest of the continent there lies before us a whole wealth of unexploited resources in the realm of the spirit. Arts and letters, science and better social creation, loyalty and political service to the commonweal,—these and a thousand other directions of activity are open to the men, who formerly175 under the incentive of attaining176 distinction by amassing177 extraordinary wealth, saw success only in material display. Newer and finer careers will open to the ambitious when once public opinion shall award the laurels178 to those who rise above their fellows in these new fields of labor. It has not been the gold, but the getting of the gold, that has caught the imaginations of our captains of industry. Their real enjoyment179 lay not in the [310]luxuries which wealth brought, but in the work of construction and in the place which society awarded them. A new era will come if schools and universities can only widen the intellectual horizon of the people, help to lay the foundations of a better industrial life, show them new goals for endeavor, inspire them with more varied180 and higher ideals.
The Western spirit must be invoked181 for new and nobler achievements. Of that matured Western spirit, Tennyson's Ulysses is a symbol.
". . . I am become a name
For always roaming with an hungry heart,
Much have I seen and known . . .
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch, where thro'
Forever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To follow knowledge like a shining star
Beyond the utmost hound of human thought.
. . . Come my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the Western stars until I die
To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield."
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
dealer
|
|
| n.商人，贩子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
unity
|
|
| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
steering
|
|
| n.操舵装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
aspiration
|
|
| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
wholesome
|
|
| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
influential
|
|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
instinctive
|
|
| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
recording
|
|
| n.录音，记录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
prospectors
|
|
| n.勘探者，探矿者( prospector的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
energized
|
|
| v.给予…精力，能量( energize的过去式和过去分词 )；使通电 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
fertilize
|
|
| v.使受精，施肥于，使肥沃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
inert
|
|
| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
stimulate
|
|
| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
shafts
|
|
| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
strata
|
|
| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
incentive
|
|
| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
incentives
|
|
| 激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 )； 刺激； 诱因； 动机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
sifted
|
|
| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
appraise
|
|
| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
daunting
|
|
| adj.使人畏缩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
arid
|
|
| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
wrested
|
|
| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
taxation
|
|
| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
periphery
|
|
| n.(圆体的)外面；周围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
stratum
|
|
| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
commonwealth
|
|
| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
patois
|
|
| n.方言；混合语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
gulf
|
|
| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
preservative
|
|
| n.防腐剂；防腐料；保护料；预防药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
democrats
|
|
| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
mediation
|
|
| n.调解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
wildernesses
|
|
| 荒野( wilderness的名词复数 )； 沙漠； （政治家）在野； 不再当政（或掌权） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
momentum
|
|
| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
stimulus
|
|
| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
lone
|
|
| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
beckons
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
looms
|
|
| n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
mirage
|
|
| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
regenerated
|
|
| v.新生，再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
census
|
|
| n.(官方的)人口调查，人口普查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
populous
|
|
| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
gushing
|
|
| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
pittance
|
|
| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
buffalo
|
|
| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
ranch
|
|
| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
irrigated
|
|
| [医]冲洗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
reclamation
|
|
| n.开垦；改造；（废料等的）回收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
transformations
|
|
| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
attain
|
|
| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
aggregations
|
|
| n.聚集( aggregation的名词复数 )；集成；集结；聚集体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
civic
|
|
| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
geologic
|
|
| adj.地质的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
cascades
|
|
| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
excellence
|
|
| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
tenements
|
|
| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
noisome
|
|
| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
toiling
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
ethics
|
|
| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
carving
|
|
| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
savages
|
|
| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
belch
|
|
| v.打嗝，喷出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
embodies
|
|
| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
dominion
|
|
| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
disillusion
|
|
| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
domains
|
|
| n.范围( domain的名词复数 )；领域；版图；地产 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
diadems
|
|
| n.王冠，王权，带状头饰( diadem的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
123
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
materialism
|
|
| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
dominant
|
|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
overthrown
|
|
| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
rejuvenated
|
|
| 更生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
covenant
|
|
| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
rust
|
|
| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
rebuked
|
|
| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
legislative
|
|
| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
banking
|
|
| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
antipathy
|
|
| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
constructive
|
|
| adj.建设的，建设性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
outlet
|
|
| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
distinctive
|
|
| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
subscriptions
|
|
| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
franchises
|
|
| n.（尤指选举议员的）选举权( franchise的名词复数 )；参政权；获特许权的商业机构（或服务）；（公司授予的）特许经销权v.给…以特许权，出售特许权( franchise的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
promotion
|
|
| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
antagonistic
|
|
| adj.敌对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
consolidate
|
|
| v.使加固，使加强；(把...)联为一体，合并 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
espoused
|
|
| v.（决定）支持，拥护（目标、主张等）( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
postal
|
|
| adj.邮政的，邮局的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
savings
|
|
| n.存款，储蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
nominations
|
|
| n.提名，任命( nomination的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
insistent
|
|
| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
mobility
|
|
| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
originality
|
|
| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
unlimited
|
|
| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
recoil
|
|
| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
plutocracy
|
|
| n.富豪统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
underlying
|
|
| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
disinterested
|
|
| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
patronage
|
|
| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
exertions
|
|
| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
caressed
|
|
| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
multiplication
|
|
| n.增加，增多，倍增；增殖，繁殖；乘法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
attaining
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
amassing
|
|
| v.积累，积聚( amass的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
laurels
|
|
| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
invoked
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
smite
|
|
| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
furrows
|
|
| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |