Nor is it the least among the sources of more serious satisfaction which I have found in the pursuit of a subject that at first appeared to bear but slightly on the grave interests of mankind, that the conditions of material perfection which it leads me in conclusion to consider, furnish a strange proof how false is the conception, how frantic3 the pursuit, of that treacherous4 phantom5 which men call Liberty; most treacherous, indeed, of all phantoms6; for the feeblest ray of reason might surely show us, that not only its attainment7, but its being, was impossible. There is no such thing in the universe. There can never be. The stars have it not; the earth has it not; the sea has it not; and we men have the mockery and semblance8 of it only for our heaviest punishment.
In one of the noblest poems17 for its imagery and its music belonging to the recent school of our literature, the writer has sought in the aspect of inanimate nature the expression of that Liberty which, having once loved, he had seen among men in its true dyes of darkness. But with what strange fallacy of interpretation9! since in one noble line of his invocation he has contradicted the assumptions of the rest, and acknowledged the presence of a subjection, surely not less severe because eternal? How could he otherwise? since i[Pg 189]f there be any one principle more widely than another confessed by every utterance10, or more sternly than another imprinted11 on every atom, of the visible creation, that principle is not Liberty, but Law.
II. The enthusiast12 would reply that by Liberty he meant the Law of Liberty. Then why use the single and misunderstood word? If by liberty you mean chastisement13 of the passions, discipline of the intellect, subjection of the will; if you mean the fear of inflicting14, the shame of committing a wrong; if you mean respect for all who are in authority, and consideration for all who are in dependence15; veneration16 for the good, mercy to the evil, sympathy with the weak; if you mean watchfulness17 over all thoughts, temperance in all pleasures, and perseverance18 in all toils19; if you mean, in a word, that Service which is defined in the liturgy20 of the English church to be perfect Freedom, why do you name this by the same word by which the luxurious21 mean license22, and the reckless mean change; by which the rogue23 means rapine, and the fool equality, by which the proud mean anarchy24, and the malignant25 mean violence? Call it by any name rather than this, but its best and truest is, Obedience. Obedience is, indeed, founded on a kind of freedom, else its would become mere26 subjugation27, but that freedom is only granted that obedience may be more perfect; and thus, while a measure of license is necessary to exhibit the individual energies of things, the fairness and pleasantness and perfection of them all consist in their Restraint. Compare a river that has burst its banks with one that is bound by them, and the clouds that are scattered28 over the face of the whole heaven with those that are marshalled into ranks and orders by its winds. So that though restraint, utter and unrelaxing, can never be comely29, this is not because it is in itself an evil, but only because, when too great, it overpowers the nature of the thing restrained, and so counteracts30 the other laws of which that nature is itself composed. And the balance wherein consists the fairness of creation is between the laws of life and being in the things governed and the laws of general sway to which they are subjected; and the suspension or infringement31 of either kind of law, or, literally,[Pg 190] disorder32, is equivalent to, and synonymous with, disease; while the increase of both honor and beauty is habitually33 on the side of restraint (or the action of superior law) rather than of character (or the action of inherent law). The noblest word in the catalogue of social virtue34 is "Loyalty," and the sweetest which men have learned in the pastures of the wilderness35 is "Fold."
III. Nor is this all; but we may observe, that exactly in proportion to the majesty36 of things in the scale of being, is the completeness of their obedience to the laws that are set over them. Gravitation is less quietly, less instantly obeyed by a grain of dust than it is by the sun and moon; and the ocean falls and flows under influences which the lake and river do not recognize. So also in estimating the dignity of any action or occupation of men, there is perhaps no better test than the question "are its laws strait?" For their severity will probably be commensurate with the greatness of the numbers whose labor37 it concentrates or whose interest it concerns.
This severity must be singular, therefore, in the case of that art, above all others, whose productions are the most vast and the most common; which requires for its practice the co-operation of bodies of men, and for its perfection the perseverance of successive generations. And taking into account also what we have before so often observed of Architecture, her continual influence over the emotions of daily life, and her realism, as opposed to the two sister arts which are in comparison but the picturing of stories and of dreams, we might beforehand expect that we should find her healthy state and action dependent on far more severe laws than theirs; that the license which they extend to the workings of individual mind would be withdrawn38 by her; and that, in assertion of the relations which she holds with all that is universally important to man, she would set forth40, by her own majestic41 subjection, some likeness42 of that on which man's social happiness and power depend. We might, therefore, without the light of experience, conclude, that Architecture never could flourish except when it was subjected to a national law as strict and[Pg 191] as minutely authoritative43 as the laws which regulate religion, policy, and social relations; nay44, even more authoritative than these, because both capable of more enforcement, as over more passive matter; and needing more enforcement, as the purest type not of one law nor of another, but of the common authority of all. But in this matter experience speaks more loudly than reason. If there be any one condition which, in watching the progress of architecture, we see distinct and general; if, amidst the counter evidence of success attending opposite accidents of character and circumstance, any one conclusion may be constantly and indisputably drawn39, it is this; that the architecture of a nation is great only when it is as universal and as established as its language; and when provincial45 differences of style are nothing more than so many dialects. Other necessities are matters of doubt: nations have been alike successful in their architecture in times of poverty and of wealth; in times of war and of peace; in times of barbarism and of refinement46; under governments the most liberal or the most arbitrary; but this one condition has been constant, this one requirement clear in all places and at all times, that the work shall be that of a school, that no individual caprice shall dispense47 with, or materially vary, accepted types and customary decorations; and that from the cottage to the palace, and from the chapel48 to the basilica, and from the garden fence to the fortress49 wall, every member and feature of the architecture of the nation shall be as commonly current, as frankly50 accepted, as its language or its coin.
IV. A day never passes without our hearing our English architects called upon to be original, and to invent a new style: about as sensible and necessary an exhortation51 as to ask of a man who has never had rags enough on his back to keep out cold, to invent a new mode of cutting a coat. Give him a whole coat first, and let him concern himself about the fashion of it afterwards. We want no new style of architecture. Who wants a new style of painting or sculpture? But we want some style. It is of marvellously little importance, if we have a code of laws and they be good laws, whether they be new or old, foreign or native, Roman or Saxon, or Norman or Eng[Pg 192]lish laws. But it is of considerable importance that we should have a code of laws of one kind or another, and that code accepted and enforced from one side of the island to another, and not one law made ground of judgment52 at York and another in Exeter. And in like manner it does not matter one marble splinter whether we have an old or new architecture, but it matters everything whether we have an architecture truly so called or not; that is, whether an architecture whose laws might be taught at our schools from Cornwall to Northumberland, as we teach English spelling and English grammar, or an architecture which is to be invented fresh every time we build a workhouse or a parish school. There seems to me to be a wonderful misunderstanding among the majority of architects at the present day as to the very nature and meaning of Originality53, and of all wherein it consists. Originality in expression does not depend on invention of new words; nor originality in poetry on invention of new measures; nor, in painting, on invention of new colors, or new modes of using them. The chords of music, the harmonies of color, the general principles of the arrangement of sculptural masses, have been determined54 long ago, and, in all probability, cannot be added to any more than they can be altered. Granting that they may be, such additions or alterations55 are much more the work of time and of multitudes than of individual inventors. We may have one Van Eyck, who will be known as the introducer of a new style once in ten centuries, but he himself will trace his invention to some accidental bye-play or pursuit; and the use of that invention will depend altogether on the popular necessities or instincts of the period. Originality depends on nothing of the kind. A man who has the gift, will take up any style that is going, the style of his day, and will work in that, and be great in that, and make everything that he does in it look as fresh as if every thought of it had just come down from heaven. I do not say that he will not take liberties with his materials, or with his rules: I do not say that strange changes will not sometimes be wrought57 by his efforts, or his fancies, in both. But those changes will be instructive, natural, facile, though sometimes marvellous; they[Pg 193] will never be sought after as things necessary to his dignity or to his independence; and those liberties will be like the liberties that a great speaker takes with the language, not a defiance58 of its rules for the sake of singularity; but inevitable59, uncalculated, and brilliant consequences of an effort to express what the language, without such infraction60, could not. There may be times when, as I have above described, the life of an art is manifested in its changes, and in its refusal of ancient limitations: so there are in the life of an insect; and there is great interest in the state of both the art and the insect at those periods when, by their natural progress and constitutional power, such changes are about to be wrought. But as that would be both an uncomfortable and foolish caterpillar61 which, instead of being contented62 with a caterpillar's life and feeding on caterpillar's food, was always striving to turn itself into a chrysalis; and as that would be an unhappy chrysalis which should lie awake at night and roll restlessly in its cocoon63, in efforts to turn itself prematurely64 into a moth65; so will that art be unhappy and unprosperous which, instead of supporting itself on the food, and contenting itself with the customs which have been enough for the support and guidance of other arts before it and like it, is struggling and fretting66 under the natural limitations of its existence, and striving to become something other than it is. And though it is the nobility of the highest creatures to look forward to, and partly to understand the changes which are appointed for them, preparing for them beforehand; and if, as is usual with appointed changes, they be into a higher state, even desiring them, and rejoicing in the hope of them, yet it is the strength of every creature, be it changeful or not, to rest for the time being, contented with the conditions of its existence, and striving only to bring about the changes which it desires, by fulfilling to the uttermost the duties for which its present state is appointed and continued.
V. Neither originality, therefore, nor change, good though both may be, and this is commonly a most merciful and enthusiastic supposition with respect to either, are ever to be sought in themselves, or can ever be healthily obtained by any[Pg 194] struggle or rebellion against common laws. We want neither the one nor the other. The forms of architecture already known are good enough for us, and for far better than any of us: and it will be time enough to think of changing them for better when we can use them as they are. But there are some things which we not only want, but cannot do without; and which all the struggling and raving67 in the world, nay more, which all the real talent and resolution in England, will never enable us to do without: and these are Obedience, Unity68, Fellowship, and Order. And all our schools of design, and committees of tastes; all our academies and lectures, and journalisms, and essays; all the sacrifices which we are beginning to make, all the truth which there is in our English nature, all the power of our English will, and the life of our English intellect, will in this matter be as useless as efforts and emotions in a dream, unless we are contented to submit architecture and all art, like other things, to English law.
VI. I say architecture and all art; for I believe architecture must be the beginning of arts, and that the others must follow her in their time and order; and I think the prosperity of our schools of painting and sculpture, in which no one will deny the life, though many the health, depends upon that of our architecture. I think that all will languish69 until that takes the lead, and (this I do not think, but I proclaim, as confidently as I would assert the necessity, for the safety of society, of an understood and strongly administered legal government) our architecture will languish, and that in the very dust, until the first principle of common sense be manfully obeyed, and an universal system of form and workmanship be everywhere adopted and enforced. It may be said that this is impossible. It may be so—I fear it is so: I have nothing to do with the possibility or impossibility of it; I simply know and assert the necessity of it. If it be impossible, English art is impossible. Give it up at once. You are wasting time, and money, and energy upon it, and though you exhaust centuries and treasuries70, and break hearts for it, you will never raise it above the merest dilettanteism. Think not of it. It is a dangerous vanity, a mere gulph in which genius[Pg 195] after genius will be swallowed up, and it will not close. And so it will continue to be, unless the one bold and broad step be taken at the beginning. We shall not manufacture art out of pottery71 and printed stuffs; we shall not reason out art by our philosophy; we shall not stumble upon art by our experiments, not create it by our fancies: I do not say that we can even build it out of brick and stone; but there is a chance for us in these, and there is none else; and that chance rests on the bare possibility of obtaining the consent, both of architects and of the public, to choose a style, and to use it universally.
VII. How surely its principles ought at first to be limited, we may easily determine by the consideration of the necessary modes of teaching any other branch of general knowledge. When we begin to teach children writing, we force them to absolute copyism, and require absolute accuracy in the formation of the letters; as they obtain command of the received modes of literal expression, we cannot prevent their falling into such variations as are consistent with their feeling, their circumstances, or their characters. So, when a boy is first taught to write Latin, an authority is required of him for every expression he uses; as he becomes master of the language he may take a license, and feel his right to do so without any authority, and yet write better Latin than when he borrowed every separate expression. In the same way our architects would have to be taught to write the accepted style. We must first determine what buildings are to be considered Augustan in their authority; their modes of construction and laws of proportion are to be studied with the most penetrating72 care; then the different forms and uses of their decorations are to be classed and catalogued, as a German grammarian classes the powers of prepositions; and under this absolute, irrefragable authority, we are to begin to work; admitting not so much as an alteration56 in the depth of a cavetto, or the breadth of a fillet. Then, when our sight is once accustomed to the grammatical forms and arrangements, and our thoughts familiar with the expression of them all; when we can speak this dead language naturally, and apply it[Pg 196] to whatever ideas we have to render, that is to say, to every practical purpose of life; then, and not till then, a license might be permitted; and individual authority allowed to change or to add to the received forms, always within certain limits; the decorations, especially, might be made subjects of variable fancy, and enriched with ideas either original or taken from other schools. And thus in process of time and by a great national movement, it might come to pass, that a new style should arise, as language itself changes; we might perhaps come to speak Italian instead of Latin, or to speak modern instead of old English; but this would be a matter of entire indifference73, and a matter, besides, which no determination or desire could either hasten or prevent. That alone which it is in our power to obtain, and which it is our duty to desire, is an unanimous style of some kind, and such comprehension and practice of it as would enable us to adapt its features to the peculiar74 character of every several building, large or small, domestic, civil, or ecclesiastical. I have said that it was immaterial what style was adopted, so far as regards the room for originality which its developement would admit: it is not so, however, when we take into consideration the far more important questions of the facility of adaptation to general purposes, and of the sympathy with which this or that style would be popularly regarded. The choice of Classical or Gothic, again using the latter term in its broadest sense, may be questionable75 when it regards some single and considerable public building; but I cannot conceive it questionable, for an instant, when it regards modern uses in general: I cannot conceive any architect insane enough to project the vulgarization of Greek architecture. Neither can it be rationally questionable whether we should adopt early or late, original or derivative76 Gothic: if the latter were chosen, it must be either some impotent and ugly degradation77, like our own Tudor, or else a style whose grammatical laws it would be nearly impossible to limit or arrange, like the French Flamboyant78. We are equally precluded79 from adopting styles essentially80 infantine or barbarous, however Herculean their infancy81, or majestic their outlawry82, such as our own Norman,[Pg 197] or the Lombard Romanesque. The choice would lie I think between four styles:—1. The Pisan Romanesque; 2. The early Gothic of the Western Italian Republics, advanced as far and as fast as our art would enable us to the Gothic of Giotto; 3. The Venetian Gothic in its purest developement; 4. The English earliest decorated. The most natural, perhaps the safest choice, would be of the last, well fenced from chance of again stiffening83 into the perpendicular84; and perhaps enriched by some mingling85 of decorative86 elements from the exquisite87 decorated Gothic of France, of which, in such cases, it would be needful to accept some well known examples, as the North door of Rouen and the church of St. Urbain at Troyes, for final and limiting authorities on the side of decoration.
VIII. It is almost impossible for us to conceive, in our present state of doubt and ignorance, the sudden dawn of intelligence and fancy, the rapidly increasing sense of power and facility, and, in its proper sense, of Freedom, which such wholesome88 restraint would instantly cause throughout the whole circle of the arts. Freed from the agitation89 and embarrassment90 of that liberty of choice which is the cause of half the discomforts91 of the world; freed from the accompanying necessity of studying all past, present, or even possible styles; and enabled, by concentration of individual, and co-operation of multitudinous energy, to penetrate92 into the uttermost secrets of the adopted style, the architect would find his whole understanding enlarged, his practical knowledge certain and ready to hand, and his imagination playful and vigorous, as a child's would be within a walled garden, who would sit down and shudder94 if he were left free in a fenceless plain. How many and how bright would be the results in every direction of interest, not to the arts merely, but to national happiness and virtue, it would be as difficult to preconceive as it would seem extravagant95 to state: but the first, perhaps the least, of them would be an increased sense of fellowship among ourselves, a cementing of every patriotic96 bond of union, a proud and happy recognition of our affection for and sympathy with each other, and our willingness in all things to submit our[Pg 198]selves to every law that would advance the interest of the community; a barrier, also, the best conceivable, to the unhappy rivalry97 of the upper and middle classes, in houses, furniture, and establishments; and even a check to much of what is as vain as it is painful in the oppositions98 of religious parties respecting matters of ritual. These, I say, would be the first consequences. Economy increased tenfold, as it would be by the simplicity99 of practice; domestic comforts uninterfered with by the caprice and mistakes of architects ignorant of the capacities of the styles they use, and all the symmetry and sightliness of our harmonized streets and public buildings, are things of slighter account in the catalogue of benefits. But it would be mere enthusiasm to endeavor to trace them farther. I have suffered myself too long to indulge in the speculative100 statement of requirements which perhaps we have more immediate101 and more serious work than to supply, and of feelings which it may be only contingently102 in our power to recover. I should be unjustly thought unaware103 of the difficulty of what I have proposed, or of the unimportance of the whole subject as compared with many which are brought home to our interests and fixed104 upon our consideration by the wild course of the present century. But of difficulty and of importance it is for others to judge. I have limited myself to the simple statement of what, if we desire to have architecture, we MUST primarily endeavor to feel and do: but then it may not be desirable for us to have architecture at all. There are many who feel it to be so; many who sacrifice much to that end; and I am sorry to see their energies wasted and their lives disquieted105 in vain. I have stated, therefore, the only ways in which that end is attainable106, without venturing even to express an opinion as to its real desirableness. I have an opinion, and the zeal107 with which I have spoken may sometimes have betrayed it, but I hold to it with no confidence. I know too well the undue108 importance which the study that every man follows must assume in his own eyes, to trust my own impressions of the dignity of that of Architecture; and yet I think I cannot be utterly109 mistaken in regarding it as at least useful in the sense of a National employment. I am con[Pg 199]firmed in this impression by what I see passing among the states of Europe at this instant. All the horror, distress110, and tumult111 which oppress the foreign nations, are traceable, among the other secondary causes through which God is working out His will upon them, to the simple one of their not having enough to do. I am not blind to the distress among their operatives; nor do I deny the nearer and visibly active causes of the movement: the recklessness of villany in the leaders of revolt, the absence of common moral principle in the upper classes, and of common courage and honesty in the heads of governments. But these causes themselves are ultimately traceable to a deeper and simpler one: the recklessness of the demagogue, the immorality112 of the middle class, and the effeminacy and treachery of the noble, are traceable in all these nations to the commonest and most fruitful cause of calamity113 in households—idleness. We think too much in our benevolent114 efforts, more multiplied and more vain day by day, of bettering men by giving them advice and instruction. There are few who will take either: the chief thing they need is occupation. I do not mean work in the sense of bread,—I mean work in the sense of mental interest; for those who either are placed above the necessity of labor for their bread, or who will not work although they should. There is a vast quantity of idle energy among European nations at this time, which ought to go into handicrafts; there are multitudes of idle semi-gentlemen who ought to be shoemakers and carpenters; but since they will not be these so long as they can help it, the business of the philanthropist is to find them some other employment than disturbing governments. It is of no use to tell them they are fools, and that they will only make themselves miserable115 in the end as well as others: if they have nothing else to do, they will do mischief116; and the man who will not work, and who has no means of intellectual pleasure, is as sure to become an instrument of evil as if he had sold himself bodily to Satan. I have myself seen enough of the daily life of the young educated men of France and Italy, to account for, as it deserves, the deepest national suffering and degradation; and though, for the most part, our commerce[Pg 200] and our natural habits of industry preserve us from a similar paralysis117, yet it would be wise to consider whether the forms of employment which we chiefly adopt or promote, are as well calculated as they might be to improve and elevate us.
We have just spent, for instance, a hundred and fifty millions, with which we have paid men for digging ground from one place and depositing it in another. We have formed a large class of men, the railway navvies, especially reckless, unmanageable, and dangerous. We have maintained besides (let us state the benefits as fairly as possible) a number of iron founders118 in an unhealthy and painful employment; we have developed (this is at least good) a very large amount of mechanical ingenuity119; and we have, in fine, attained120 the power of going fast from one place to another. Meantime we have had no mental interest or concern ourselves in the operations we have set on foot, but have been left to the usual vanities and cares of our existence. Suppose, on the other hand, that we had employed the same sums in building beautiful houses and churches. We should have maintained the same number of men, not in driving wheelbarrows, but in a distinctly technical, if not intellectual, employment, and those who were more intelligent among them would have been especially happy in that employment, as having room in it for the developement of their fancy, and being directed by it to that observation of beauty which, associated with the pursuit of natural science, at present forms the enjoyment121 of many of the more intelligent manufacturing operatives. Of mechanical ingenuity, there is, I imagine, at least as much required to build a cathedral as to cut a tunnel or contrive122 a locomotive: we should, therefore, have developed as much science, while the artistical element of intellect would have been added to the gain. Meantime we should ourselves have been made happier and wiser by the interest we should have taken in the work with which we were personally concerned; and when all was done, instead of the very doubtful advantage of the power of going fast from place to place, we should have had the certain advantage of increased pleasure in stopping at home.[Pg 201]
IX. There are many other less capacious, but more constant, channels of expenditure123, quite as disputable in their beneficial tendency; and we are, perhaps, hardly enough in the habit of inquiring, with respect to any particular form of luxury or any customary appliance of life, whether the kind of employment it gives to the operative or the dependant124 be as healthy and fitting an employment as we might otherwise provide for him. It is not enough to find men absolute subsistence; we should think of the manner of life which our demands necessitate125; and endeavor, as far as may be, to make all our needs such as may, in the supply of them, raise, as well as feed, the poor. It is far better to give work which is above the men, than to educate the men to be above their work. It may be doubted, for instance, whether the habits of luxury, which necessitate a large train of men servants, be a wholesome form of expenditure; and more, whether the pursuits which have a tendency to enlarge the class of the jockey and the groom126 be a philanthropic form of mental occupation. So again, consider the large number of men whose lives are employed by civilized127 nations in cutting facets128 upon jewels. There is much dexterity129 of hand, patience, and ingenuity thus bestowed130, which are simply burned out in the blaze of the tiara, without, so far as I see, bestowing131 any pleasure upon those who wear or who behold132, at all compensatory for the loss of life and mental power which are involved in the employment of the workman. He would be far more healthily and happily sustained by being set to carve stone; certain qualities of his mind, for which there is no room in his present occupation, would develope themselves in the nobler; and I believe that most women would, in the end, prefer the pleasure of having built a church, or contributed to the adornment133 of a cathedral, to the pride of bearing a certain quantity of adamant134 on their foreheads.
X. I could pursue this subject willingly, but I have some strange notions about it which it is perhaps wiser not loosely to set down. I content myself with finally reasserting, what has been throughout the burden of the preceding pages, that whatever rank, or whatever importance, may be attributed or[Pg 202] attached to their immediate subject, there is at least some value in the analogies with which its pursuit has presented us, and some instruction in the frequent reference of its commonest necessities to the mighty135 laws, in the sense and scope of which all men are Builders, whom every hour sees laying the stubble or the stone.
I have paused, not once nor twice, as I wrote, and often have checked the course of what might otherwise have been importunate136 persuasion137, as the thought has crossed me, how soon all Architecture may be vain, except that which is not made with hands. There is something ominous138 in the light which has enabled us to look back with disdain139 upon the ages among whose lovely vestiges140 we have been wandering. I could smile when I hear the hopeful exultation141 of many, at the new reach of worldly science, and vigor93 of worldly effort; as if we were again at the beginning of days. There is thunder on the horizon as well as dawn. The sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into Zoar.
The End
The End
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
treacherous
|
|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
phantoms
|
|
| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
interpretation
|
|
| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
imprinted
|
|
| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
enthusiast
|
|
| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
chastisement
|
|
| n.惩罚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
inflicting
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
veneration
|
|
| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
watchfulness
|
|
| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
perseverance
|
|
| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
toils
|
|
| 网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
liturgy
|
|
| n.礼拜仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
rogue
|
|
| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
anarchy
|
|
| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
malignant
|
|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
subjugation
|
|
| n.镇压，平息，征服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
counteracts
|
|
| 对抗，抵消( counteract的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
infringement
|
|
| n.违反；侵权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
habitually
|
|
| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
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： |
|
|
|
|
38
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
authoritative
|
|
| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
provincial
|
|
| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
refinement
|
|
| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
dispense
|
|
| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
fortress
|
|
| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
exhortation
|
|
| n.劝告，规劝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
originality
|
|
| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
alterations
|
|
| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
infraction
|
|
| n.违反；违法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
caterpillar
|
|
| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
cocoon
|
|
| n.茧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
prematurely
|
|
| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
moth
|
|
| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
raving
|
|
| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
unity
|
|
| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
languish
|
|
| vi.变得衰弱无力，失去活力，（植物等）凋萎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
treasuries
|
|
| n.（政府的）财政部( treasury的名词复数 )；国库，金库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
pottery
|
|
| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
questionable
|
|
| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
derivative
|
|
| n.派(衍)生物；adj.非独创性的，模仿他人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
flamboyant
|
|
| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
precluded
|
|
| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
infancy
|
|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
outlawry
|
|
| 宣布非法，非法化，放逐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
83
stiffening
|
|
| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
perpendicular
|
|
| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
decorative
|
|
| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
wholesome
|
|
| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
discomforts
|
|
| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
penetrate
|
|
| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
vigor
|
|
| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
extravagant
|
|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
patriotic
|
|
| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
rivalry
|
|
| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
oppositions
|
|
| （强烈的）反对( opposition的名词复数 )； 反对党； （事业、竞赛、游戏等的）对手； 对比 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
speculative
|
|
| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
contingently
|
|
| 偶发地，临时地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
103
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
disquieted
|
|
| v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
attainable
|
|
| a.可达到的，可获得的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
undue
|
|
| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
immorality
|
|
| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
paralysis
|
|
| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
founders
|
|
| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
attained
|
|
| （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） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
dependant
|
|
| n.依靠的，依赖的，依赖他人生活者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
necessitate
|
|
| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
facets
|
|
| n.（宝石或首饰的）小平面( facet的名词复数 )；（事物的）面；方面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
dexterity
|
|
| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
bestowing
|
|
| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
adornment
|
|
| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
adamant
|
|
| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
importunate
|
|
| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
persuasion
|
|
| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
ominous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
vestiges
|
|
| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
exultation
|
|
| n.狂喜，得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |