Perhaps we may say that with him the philosophy of history is partly in the metaphysical stage, and see, in the progress of this idea from Herodotus to Polybius, the exemplification of the Comtian Law of the three stages of thought, the theological, the metaphysical, and the scientific: for truly out of the vagueness of theological mysticism this conception which we call the Philosophy of History was raised to a scientific principle, according to which the past was explained and the future predicted by reference to general laws.
Now, just as the earliest account of the nature of the progress of humanity is to be found in Plato, so in him we find the first explicit7 attempt to found a universal philosophy of history upon wide rational grounds. Having created an ideally perfect state, the philosopher proceeds to give an elaborate theory of the complex causes which produce revolutions, of the moral effects of various forms of government and education, of the rise of the criminal classes and their connection with pauperism8, and, in a word, to create history by the deductive method and to proceed from a priori psychological principles to discover the governing laws of the apparent chaos9 of political life.
There have been many attempts since Plato to deduce from a single philosophical10 principle all the phenomena which experience subsequently verifies for us. Fichte thought he could predict the world-plan from the idea of universal time. Hegel dreamed he had found the key to the mysteries of life in the development of freedom, and Krause in the categories of being. But the one scientific basis on which the true philosophy of history must rest is the complete knowledge of the laws of human nature in all its wants, its aspirations13, its powers and its tendencies: and this great truth, which Thucydides may be said in some measure to have apprehended14, was given to us first by Plato.
Now, it cannot be accurately16 said of this philosopher that either his philosophy or his history is entirely17 and simply a priori. On est de son siècle même quand on y proteste, and so we find in him continual references to the Spartan18 mode of life, the Pythagorean system, the general characteristics of Greek tyrannies and Greek democracies. For while, in his account of the method of forming an ideal state, he says that the political artist is indeed to fix his gaze on the sun of abstract truth in the heavens of the pure reason, but is sometimes to turn to the realisation of the ideals on earth: yet, after all, the general character of the Platonic20 method, which is what we are specially21 concerned with, is essentially22 deductive and a priori. And he himself, in the building up of his Nephelococcygia, certainly starts with a καθαρ?? π?ναξ, making a clean sweep of all history and all experience; and it was essentially as an a priori theorist that he is criticised by Aristotle, as we shall see later.
To proceed to closer details regarding the actual scheme of the laws of political revolutions as drawn23 out by Plato, we must first note that the primary cause of the decay of the ideal state is the general principle, common to the vegetable and animal worlds as well as to the world of history, that all created things are fated to decay—a principle which, though expressed in the terms of a mere25 metaphysical abstraction, is yet perhaps in its essence scientific. For we too must hold that a continuous redistribution of matter and motion is the inevitable26 result of the nominal27 persistence28 of Force, and that perfect equilibrium29 is as impossible in politics as it certainly is in physics.
The secondary causes which mar24 the perfection of the Platonic ‘city of the sun’ are to be found in the intellectual decay of the race consequent on injudicious marriages and in the Philistine30 elevation31 of physical achievements over mental culture; while the hierarchical succession of Timocracy and Oligarchy33, Democracy and Tyranny, is dwelt on at great length and its causes analysed in a very dramatic and psychological manner, if not in that sanctioned by the actual order of history.
And indeed it is apparent at first sight that the Platonic succession of states represents rather the succession of ideas in the philosophic11 mind than any historical succession of time.
Aristotle meets the whole simply by an appeal to facts. If the theory of the periodic decay of all created things, he urges, be scientific, it must be universal, and so true of all the other states as well as of the ideal. Besides, a state usually changes into its contrary and not to the form next to it; so the ideal state would not change into Timocracy; while Oligarchy, more often than Tyranny, succeeds Democracy. Plato, besides, says nothing of what a Tyranny would change to. According to the cycle theory it ought to pass into the ideal state again, but as a fact one Tyranny is changed into another as at Sicyon, or into a Democracy as at Syracuse, or into an Aristocracy as at Carthage. The example of Sicily, too, shows that an Oligarchy is often followed by a Tyranny, as at Leontini and Gela. Besides, it is absurd to represent greed as the chief motive35 of decay, or to talk of avarice36 as the root of Oligarchy, when in nearly all true oligarchies37 money-making is forbidden by law. And finally the Platonic theory neglects the different kinds of democracies and of tyrannies.
Now nothing can be more important than this passage in Aristotle’s Politics (v. 12.), which may he said to mark an era in the evolution of historical criticism. For there is nothing on which Aristotle insists so strongly as that the generalisations from facts ought to be added to the data of the a priori method—a principle which we know to be true not merely of deductive speculative38 politics but of physics also: for are not the residual39 phenomena of chemists a valuable source of improvement in theory?
His own method is essentially historical though by no means empirical. On the contrary, this far-seeing thinker, rightly styled il maestro di color che sanno, may be said to have apprehended clearly that the true method is neither exclusively empirical nor exclusively speculative, but rather a union of both in the process called Analysis or the Interpretation40 of Facts, which has been defined as the application to facts of such general conceptions as may fix the important characteristics of the phenomena, and present them permanently41 in their true relations. He too was the first to point out, what even in our own day is incompletely appreciated, that nature, including the development of man, is not full of incoherent episodes like a bad tragedy, that inconsistency and anomaly are as impossible in the moral as they are in the physical world, and that where the superficial observer thinks he sees a revolution the philosophical critic discerns merely the gradual and rational evolution of the inevitable results of certain antecedents.
And while admitting the necessity of a psychological basis for the philosophy of history, he added to it the important truth that man, to be apprehended in his proper position in the universe as well as in his natural powers, must be studied from below in the hierarchical progression of higher function from the lower forms of life. The important maxim42, that to obtain a clear conception of anything we must ‘study it in its growth from the very beginning,’ is formally set down in the opening of the Politics, where, indeed, we shall find the other characteristic features of the modern Evolutionary43 theory, such as the ‘Differentiation of Function’ and the ‘Survival of the Fittest’ explicitly44 set forth45.
What a valuable step this was in the improvement of the method of historical criticism it is needless to point out. By it, one may say, the true thread was given to guide one’s steps through the bewildering labyrinth46 of facts. For history (to use terms with which Aristotle has made us familiar) may be looked at from two essentially different standpoints; either as a work of art whose τ?λο? or final cause is external to it and imposed on it from without; or as an organism containing the law of its own development in itself, and working out its perfection merely by the fact of being what it is. Now, if we adopt the former, which we may style the theological view, we shall be in continual danger of tripping into the pitfall47 of some a priori conclusion—that bourne from which, it has been truly said, no traveller ever returns.
The latter is the only scientific theory and was apprehended in its fulness by Aristotle, whose application of the inductive method to history, and whose employment of the evolutionary theory of humanity, show that he was conscious that the philosophy of history is nothing separate from the facts of history but is contained in them, and that the rational law of the complex phenomena of life, like the ideal in the world of thought, is to be reached through the facts, not superimposed on them—κατ? πολλ?ν not παρ? πολλ?.
And finally, in estimating the enormous debt which the science of historical criticism owes to Aristotle, we must not pass over his attitude towards those two great difficulties in the formation of a philosophy of history on which I have touched above. I mean the assertion of extra-natural interference with the normal development of the world and of the incalculable influence exercised by the power of free will.
Now, as regards the former, he may be said to have neglected it entirely. The special acts of providence48 proceeding49 from God’s immediate government of the world, which Herodotus saw as mighty50 landmarks51 in history, would have been to him essentially disturbing elements in that universal reign52 of law, the extent of whose limitless empire he of all the great thinkers of antiquity53 was the first explicitly to recognise.
Standing54 aloof55 from the popular religion as well as from the deeper conceptions of Herodotus and the Tragic56 School, he no longer thought of God as of one with fair limbs and treacherous57 face haunting wood and glade58, nor would he see in him a jealous judge continually interfering59 in the world’s history to bring the wicked to punishment and the proud to a fall. God to him was the incarnation of the pure Intellect, a being whose activity was the contemplation of his own perfection, one whom Philosophy might imitate but whom prayers could never move, to the sublime60 indifference61 of whose passionless wisdom what were the sons of men, their desires or their sins? While, as regards the other difficulty and the formation of a philosophy of history, the conflict of free will with general laws appears first in Greek thought in the usual theological form in which all great ideas seem to be cradled at their birth.
It was such legends as those of ?dipus and Adrastus, exemplifying the struggles of individual humanity against the overpowering force of circumstances and necessity, which gave to the early Greeks those same lessons which we of modern days draw, in somewhat less artistic62 fashion, from the study of statistics and the laws of physiology63.
In Aristotle, of course, there is no trace of supernatural influence. The Furies, which drive their victim into sin first and then punishment, are no longer ‘viper-tressed goddesses with eyes and mouth aflame,’ but those evil thoughts which harbour within the impure64 soul. In this, as in all other points, to arrive at Aristotle is to reach the pure atmosphere of scientific and modern thought.
But while he rejected pure necessitarianism in its crude form as essentially a reductio ad absurdum of life, he was fully65 conscious of the fact that the will is not a mysterious and ultimate unit of force beyond which we cannot go and whose special characteristic is inconsistency, but a certain creative attitude of the mind which is, from the first, continually influenced by habits, education and circumstance; so absolutely modifiable, in a word, that the good and the bad man alike seem to lose the power of free will; for the one is morally unable to sin, the other physically66 incapacitated for reformation.
And of the influence of climate and temperature in forming the nature of man (a conception perhaps pressed too far in modern days when the ‘race theory’ is supposed to be a sufficient explanation of the Hindoo, and the latitude67 and longitude68 of a country the best guide to its morals [57]) Aristotle is completely unaware69. I do not allude70 to such smaller points as the oligarchical71 tendencies of a horse-breeding country and the democratic influence of the proximity72 of the sea (important though they are for the consideration of Greek history), but rather to those wider views in the seventh book of his Politics, where he attributes the happy union in the Greek character of intellectual attainments73 with the spirit of progress to the temperate75 climate they enjoyed, and points out how the extreme cold of the north dulls the mental faculties76 of its inhabitants and renders them incapable77 of social organisation78 or extended empire; while to the enervating79 heat of eastern countries was due that want of spirit and bravery which then, as now, was the characteristic of the population in that quarter of the globe.
Thucydides has shown the causal connection between political revolutions and the fertility of the soil, but goes a step farther and points out the psychological influences on a people’s character exercised by the various extremes of climate—in both cases the first appearance of a most valuable form of historical criticism.
To the development of Dialectic, as to God, intervals80 of time are of no account. From Plato and Aristotle we pass direct to Polybius.
The progress of thought from the philosopher of the Academe to the Arcadian historian may be best illustrated81 by a comparison of the method by which each of the three writers, whom I have selected as the highest expression of the rationalism of his respective age, attained82 to his ideal state: for the latter conception may be in a measure regarded as representing the most spiritual principle which they could discern in history.
Now, Plato created his on a priori principles; Aristotle formed his by an analysis of existing constitutions; Polybius found his realised for him in the actual world of fact. Aristotle criticised the deductive speculations83 of Plato by means of inductive negative instances, but Polybius will not take the ‘Cloud City’ of the Republic into account at all. He compares it to an athlete who has never run on ‘Constitution Hill,’ to a statue so beautiful that it is entirely removed from the ordinary conditions of humanity, and consequently from the canons of criticism.
The Roman state had attained in his eyes, by means of the mutual85 counteraction86 of three opposing forces, [59] that stable equilibrium in politics which was the ideal of all the theoretical writers of antiquity. And in connection with this point it will be convenient to notice here how much truth there is contained in the accusation87 often brought against the ancients that they knew nothing of the idea of Progress, for the meaning of many of their speculations will be hidden from us if we do not try and comprehend first what their aim was, and secondly88 why it was so.
Now, like all wide generalities, this statement is at least inaccurate89. The prayer of Plato’s ideal City—?ξ ?γαθ?ν ?με?νου?, κα? ?ξ ?φελιμ?ν ?φελιμωτ?ρου? ?ε? το?? ?κγ?νου? γ?γνεσθαι, might be written as a text over the door of the last Temple to Humanity raised by the disciples90 of Fourier and Saint-Simon, but it is certainly true that their ideal principle was order and permanence, not indefinite progress. For, setting aside the artistic prejudices which would have led the Greeks to reject this idea of unlimited91 improvement, we may note that the modern conception of progress rests partly on the new enthusiasm and worship of humanity, partly on the splendid hopes of material improvements in civilisation92 which applied93 science has held out to us, two influences from which ancient Greek thought seems to have been strangely free. For the Greeks marred94 the perfect humanism of the great men whom they worshipped, by imputing95 to them divinity and its supernatural powers; while their science was eminently96 speculative and often almost mystic in its character, aiming at culture and not utility, at higher spirituality and more intense reverence97 for law, rather than at the increased facilities of locomotion98 and the cheap production of common things about which our modern scientific school ceases not to boast. And lastly, and perhaps chiefly, we must remember that the ‘plague spot of all Greek states,’ as one of their own writers has called it, was the terrible insecurity to life and property which resulted from the factions99 and revolutions which ceased not to trouble Greece at all times, raising a spirit of fanaticism100 such as religion raised in the middle ages of Europe.
These considerations, then, will enable us to understand first how it was that, radical101 and unscrupulous reformers as the Greek political theorists were, yet, their end once attained, no modern conservatives raised such outcry against the slightest innovation. Even acknowledged improvements in such things as the games of children or the modes of music were regarded by them with feelings of extreme apprehension102 as the herald103 of the drapeau rouge104 of reform. And secondly, it will show us how it was that Polybius found his ideal in the commonwealth105 of Rome, and Aristotle, like Mr. Bright, in the middle classes. Polybius, however, is not content merely with pointing out his ideal state, but enters at considerable length into the question of those general laws whose consideration forms the chief essential of the philosophy of history.
He starts by accepting the general principle that all things are fated to decay (which I noticed in the case of Plato), and that ‘as iron produces rust106 and as wood breeds the animals that destroy it, so every state has in it the seeds of its own corruption107.’ He is not, however, content to rest there, but proceeds to deal with the more immediate causes of revolutions, which he says are twofold in nature, either external or internal. Now, the former, depending as they do on the synchronous108 conjunction of other events outside the sphere of scientific estimation, are from their very character incalculable; but the latter, though assuming many forms, always result from the over-great preponderance of any single element to the detriment109 of the others, the rational law lying at the base of all varieties of political changes being that stability can result only from the statical equilibrium produced by the counteraction of opposing parts, since the more simple a constitution is the more it is insecure. Plato had pointed110 out before how the extreme liberty of a democracy always resulted in despotism, but Polybius analyses the law and shows the scientific principles on which it rests.
The doctrine111 of the instability of pure constitutions forms an important era in the philosophy of history. Its special applicability to the politics of our own day has been illustrated in the rise of the great Napoleon, when the French state had lost those divisions of caste and prejudice, of landed aristocracy and moneyed interest, institutions in which the vulgar see only barriers to Liberty but which are indeed the only possible defences against the coming of that periodic Sirius of politics, the τ?ραννο? ?κ προστατικ?? ??ζη?.
There is a principle which Tocqueville never wearies of explaining, and which has been subsumed by Mr. Herbert Spencer under that general law common to all organic bodies which we call the Instability of the Homogeneous. The various manifestations of this law, as shown in the normal, regular revolutions and evolutions of the different forms of government, [63a] are expounded112 with great clearness by Polybius, who claimed for his theory, in the Thucydidean spirit, that it is a κτ?μα ?? ?ε?, not a mere ?γ?νισμα ?? τ? παραχρ?μα, and that a knowledge of it will enable the impartial113 observer [63b] to discover at any time what period of its constitutional evolution any particular state has already reached and into what form it will be next differentiated114, though possibly the exact time of the changes may be more or less uncertain. [63c]
Now in this necessarily incomplete account of the laws of political revolutions as expounded by Polybius enough perhaps has been said to show what is his true position in the rational development of the ‘Idea’ which I have called the Philosophy of History, because it is the unifying115 of history. Seen darkly as it is through the glass of religion in the pages of Herodotus, more metaphysical than scientific with Thucydides, Plato strove to seize it by the eagle-flight of speculation84, to reach it with the eager grasp of a soul impatient of those slower and surer inductive methods which Aristotle, in his trenchant116 criticism of his greater master, showed were more brilliant than any vague theory, if the test of brilliancy is truth.
What then is the position of Polybius? Does any new method remain for him? Polybius was one of those many men who are born too late to be original. To Thucydides belongs the honour of being the first in the history of Greek thought to discern the supreme117 calm of law and order underlying118 the fitful storms of life, and Plato and Aristotle each represents a great new principle. To Polybius belongs the office—how noble an office he made it his writings show—of making more explicit the ideas which were implicit119 in his predecessors120, of showing that they were of wider applicability and perhaps of deeper meaning than they had seemed before, of examining with more minuteness the laws which they had discovered, and finally of pointing out more clearly than any one had done the range of science and the means it offered for analysing the present and predicting what was to come. His office thus was to gather up what they had left, to give their principles new life by a wider application.
Polybius ends this great diapason of Greek thought. When the Philosophy of history appears next, as in Plutarch’s tract19 on ‘Why God’s anger is delayed,’ the pendulum121 of thought had swung back to where it began. His theory was introduced to the Romans under the cultured style of Cicero, and was welcomed by them as the philosophical panegyric122 of their state. The last notice of it in Latin literature is in the pages of Tacitus, who alludes123 to the stable polity formed out of these elements as a constitution easier to commend than to produce and in no case lasting124. Yet Polybius had seen the future with no uncertain eye, and had prophesied125 the rise of the Empire from the unbalanced power of the ochlocracy fifty years and more before there was joy in the Julian household over the birth of that boy who, born to power as the champion of the people, died wearing the purple of a king.
No attitude of historical criticism is more important than the means by which the ancients attained to the philosophy of history. The principle of heredity can be exemplified in literature as well as in organic life: Aristotle, Plato and Polybius are the lineal ancestors of Fichte and Hegel, of Vico and Cousin, of Montesquieu and Tocqueville.
As my aim is not to give an account of historians but to point out those great thinkers whose methods have furthered the advance of this spirit of historical criticism, I shall pass over those annalists and chroniclers who intervened between Thucydides and Polybius. Yet perhaps it may serve to throw new light on the real nature of this spirit and its intimate connection with all other forms of advanced thought if I give some estimate of the character and rise of those many influences prejudicial to the scientific study of history which cause such a wide gap between these two historians.
Foremost among these is the growing influence of rhetoric126 and the Isocratean school, which seems to have regarded history as an arena127 for the display either of pathos128 or paradoxes130, not a scientific investigation131 into laws.
The new age is the age of style. The same spirit of exclusive attention to form which made Euripides often, like Swinburne, prefer music to meaning and melody to morality, which gave to the later Greek statues that refined effeminacy, that overstrained gracefulness132 of attitude, was felt in the sphere of history. The rules laid down for historical composition are those relating to the ?sthetic value of digressions, the legality of employing more than one metaphor133 in the same sentence, and the like; and historians are ranked not by their power of estimating evidence but by the goodness of the Greek they write.
I must note also the important influence on literature exercised by Alexander the Great; for while his travels encouraged the more accurate research of geography, the very splendour of his achievements seems to have brought history again into the sphere of romance. The appearance of all great men in the world is followed invariably by the rise of that mythop?ic spirit and that tendency to look for the marvellous, which is so fatal to true historical criticism. An Alexander, a Napoleon, a Francis of Assisi and a Mahomet are thought to be outside the limiting conditions of rational law, just as comets were supposed to be not very long ago. While the founding of that city of Alexandria, in which Western and Eastern thought met with such strange result to both, diverted the critical tendencies of the Greek spirit into questions of grammar, philology134 and the like, the narrow, artificial atmosphere of that University town (as we may call it) was fatal to the development of that independent and speculative spirit of research which strikes out new methods of inquiry135, of which historical criticism is one.
The Alexandrines combined a great love of learning with an ignorance of the true principles of research, an enthusiastic spirit for accumulating materials with a wonderful incapacity to use them. Not among the hot sands of Egypt, or the Sophists of Athens, but from the very heart of Greece rises the man of genius on whose influence in the evolution of the philosophy of history I have a short time ago dwelt. Born in the serene136 and pure air of the clear uplands of Arcadia, Polybius may be said to reproduce in his work the character of the place which gave him birth. For, of all the historians—I do not say of antiquity but of all time—none is more rationalistic than he, none more free from any belief in the ‘visions and omens137, the monstrous138 legends, the grovelling139 superstitions140 and unmanly craving143 for the supernatural’ (δεισιδαιμον?α? ?γεννο?? κα? τερατε?α? γυναικ?δου? [68]) which he himself is compelled to notice as the characteristics of some of the historians who preceded him. Fortunate in the land which bore him, he was no less blessed in the wondrous144 time of his birth. For, representing in himself the spiritual supremacy145 of the Greek intellect and allied146 in bonds of chivalrous147 friendship to the world-conqueror of his day, he seems led as it were by the hand of Fate ‘to comprehend,’ as has been said, ‘more clearly than the Romans themselves the historical position of Rome,’ and to discern with greater insight than all other men could those two great resultants of ancient civilisation, the material empire of the city of the seven hills, and the intellectual sovereignty of Hellas.
Before his own day, he says, [69a] the events of the world were unconnected and separate and the histories confined to particular countries. Now, for the first time the universal empire of the Romans rendered a universal history possible. [69b] This, then, is the august motive of his work: to trace the gradual rise of this Italian city from the day when the first legion crossed the narrow strait of Messina and landed on the fertile fields of Sicily to the time when Corinth in the East and Carthage in the West fell before the resistless wave of empire and the eagles of Rome passed on the wings of universal victory from Calpe and the Pillars of Hercules to Syria and the Nile. At the same time he recognised that the scheme of Rome’s empire was worked out under the ?gis of God’s will. [69c] For, as one of the Middle Age scribes most truly says, the τ?χη of Polybius is that power which we Christians148 call God; the second aim, as one may call it, of his history is to point out the rational and human and natural causes which brought this result, distinguishing, as we should say, between God’s mediate3 and immediate government of the world.
With any direct intervention149 of God in the normal development of Man, he will have nothing to do: still less with any idea of chance as a factor in the phenomena of life. Chance and miracles, he says, are mere expressions for our ignorance of rational causes. The spirit of rationalism which we recognised in Herodotus as a vague uncertain attitude and which appears in Thucydides as a consistent attitude of mind never argued about or even explained, is by Polybius analysed and formulated150 as the great instrument of historical research.
Herodotus, while believing on principle in the supernatural, yet was sceptical at times. Thucydides simply ignored the supernatural. He did not discuss it, but he annihilated152 it by explaining history without it. Polybius enters at length into the whole question and explains its origin and the method of treating it. Herodotus would have believed in Scipio’s dream. Thucydides would have ignored it entirely. Polybius explains it. He is the culmination153 of the rational progression of Dialectic. ‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘shows a foolish mind more than the attempt to account for any phenomena on the principle of chance or supernatural intervention. History is a search for rational causes, and there is nothing in the world—even those phenomena which seem to us the most remote from law and improbable—which is not the logical and inevitable result of certain rational antecedents.’
Some things, of course, are to be rejected a priori without entering into the subject: ‘As regards such miracles,’ he says, [71] ‘as that on a certain statue of Artemis rain or snow never falls though the statue stands in the open air, or that those who enter God’s shrine154 in Arcadia lose their natural shadows, I cannot really be expected to argue upon the subject. For these things are not only utterly155 improbable but absolutely impossible.’
‘For us to argue reasonably on an acknowledged absurdity156 is as vain a task as trying to catch water in a sieve157; it is really to admit the possibility of the supernatural, which is the very point at issue.’
What Polybius felt was that to admit the possibility of a miracle is to annihilate151 the possibility of history: for just as scientific and chemical experiments would be either impossible or useless if exposed to the chance of continued interference on the part of some foreign body, so the laws and principles which govern history, the causes of phenomena, the evolution of progress, the whole science, in a word, of man’s dealings with his own race and with nature, will remain a sealed book to him who admits the possibility of extra-natural interference.
The stories of miracles, then, are to be rejected on a priori rational grounds, but in the case of events which we know to have happened the scientific historian will not rest till he has discovered their natural causes which, for instance, in the case of the wonderful rise of the Roman Empire—the most marvellous thing, Polybius says, which God ever brought about [72a]—are to be found in the excellence158 of their constitution (τ? ?δι?τητι τ?? πολιτε?α?), the wisdom of their advisers159, their splendid military arrangements, and their superstition141 (τ? δεισιδαιμον??). For while Polybius regarded the revealed religion as, of course, objective reality of truth, [72b] he laid great stress on its moral subjective160 influence, going, in one passage on the subject, even so far as almost to excuse the introduction of the supernatural in very small quantities into history on account of the extremely good effect it would have on pious161 people.
But perhaps there is no passage in the whole of ancient and modern history which breathes such a manly142 and splendid spirit of rationalism as one preserved to us in the Vatican—strange resting-place for it!—in which he treats of the terrible decay of population which had fallen on his native land in his own day, and which by the general orthodox public was regarded as a special judgment162 of God sending childlessness on women as a punishment for the sins of the people. For it was a disaster quite without parallel in the history of the land, and entirely unforeseen by any of its political-economy writers who, on the contrary, were always anticipating that danger would arise from an excess of population overrunning its means of subsistence, and becoming unmanageable through its size. Polybius, however, will have nothing to do with either priest or worker of miracles in this matter. He will not even seek that ‘sacred Heart of Greece,’ Delphi, Apollo’s shrine, whose inspiration even Thucydides admitted and before whose wisdom Socrates bowed. How foolish, he says, were the man who on this matter would pray to God. We must search for the rational causes, and the causes are seen to be clear, and the method of prevention also. He then proceeds to notice how all this arose from the general reluctance163 to marriage and to bearing the expense of educating a large family which resulted from the carelessness and avarice of the men of his day, and he explains on entirely rational principles the whole of this apparently164 supernatural judgment.
Now, it is to be borne in mind that while his rejection165 of miracles as violation166 of inviolable laws is entirely a priori—for discussion of such a matter is, of course, impossible for a rational thinker—yet his rejection of supernatural intervention rests entirely on the scientific grounds of the necessity of looking for natural causes. And he is quite logical in maintaining his position on these principles. For, where it is either difficult or impossible to assign any rational cause for phenomena, or to discover their laws, he acquiesces167 reluctantly in the alternative of admitting some extra-natural interference which his essentially scientific method of treating the matter has logically forced on him, approving, for instance, of prayers for rain, on the express ground that the laws of meteorology had not yet been ascertained169. He would, of course, have been the first to welcome our modern discoveries in the matter. The passage in question is in every way one of the most interesting in his whole work, not, of course, as signifying any inclination170 on his part to acquiesce168 in the supernatural, but because it shows how essentially logical and rational his method of argument was, and how candid171 and fair his mind.
Having now examined Polybius’s attitude towards the supernatural and the general ideas which guided his research, I will proceed to examine the method he pursued in his scientific investigation of the complex phenomena of life. For, as I have said before in the course of this essay, what is important in all great writers is not so much the results they arrive at as the methods they pursue. The increased knowledge of facts may alter any conclusion in history as in physical science, and the canons of speculative historical credibility must be acknowledged to appeal rather to that subjective attitude of mind which we call the historic sense than to any formulated objective rules. But a scientific method is a gain for all time, and the true if not the only progress of historical criticism consists in the improvement of the instruments of research.
Now first, as regards his conception of history, I have already pointed out that it was to him essentially a search for causes, a problem to be solved, not a picture to be painted, a scientific investigation into laws and tendencies, not a mere romantic account of startling incident and wondrous adventure. Thucydides, in the opening of his great work, had sounded the first note of the scientific conception of history. ‘The absence of romance in my pages,’ he says, ‘will, I fear, detract somewhat from its value, but I have written my work not to be the exploit of a passing hour but as the possession of all time.’ [76] Polybius follows with words almost entirely similar. If, he says, we banish172 from history the consideration of causes, methods and motives173 (τ? δι? τ?, κα? πω?, κα? τ?νο? χ?ριν), and refuse to consider how far the result of anything is its rational consequent, what is left is a mere ?γ?νισμα, not a μ?θημα, an oratorical174 essay which may give pleasure for the moment, but which is entirely without any scientific value for the explanation of the future. Elsewhere he says that ‘history robbed of the exposition of its causes and laws is a profitless thing, though it may allure175 a fool.’ And all through his history the same point is put forward and exemplified in every fashion.
So far for the conception of history. Now for the groundwork. As regards the character of the phenomena to be selected by the scientific investigator176, Aristotle had laid down the general formula that nature should be studied in her normal manifestations. Polybius, true to his character of applying explicitly the principles implicit in the work of others, follows out the doctrine of Aristotle, and lays particular stress on the rational and undisturbed character of the development of the Roman constitution as affording special facilities for the discovery of the laws of its progress. Political revolutions result from causes either external or internal. The former are mere disturbing forces which lie outside the sphere of scientific calculation. It is the latter which are important for the establishing of principles and the elucidation177 of the sequences of rational evolution.
He thus may be said to have anticipated one of the most important truths of the modern methods of investigation: I mean that principle which lays down that just as the study of physiology should precede the study of pathology, just as the laws of disease are best discovered by the phenomena presented in health, so the method of arriving at all great social and political truths is by the investigation of those cases where development has been normal, rational and undisturbed.
The critical canon that the more a people has been interfered178 with, the more difficult it becomes to generalise the laws of its progress and to analyse the separate forces of its civilisation, is one the validity of which is now generally recognised by those who pretend to a scientific treatment of all history: and while we have seen that Aristotle anticipated it in a general formula, to Polybius belongs the honour of being the first to apply it explicitly in the sphere of history.
I have shown how to this great scientific historian the motive of his work was essentially the search for causes; and true to his analytical179 spirit he is careful to examine what a cause really is and in what part of the antecedents of any consequent it is to be looked for. To give an illustration: As regards the origin of the war with Perseus, some assigned as causes the expulsion of Abrupolis by Perseus, the expedition of the latter to Delphi, the plot against Eumenes and the seizure180 of the ambassadors in B?otia; of these incidents the two former, Polybius points out, were merely the pretexts181, the two latter merely the occasions of the war. The war was really a legacy182 left to Perseus by his father, who was determined183 to fight it out with Rome. [78]
Here as elsewhere he is not originating any new idea. Thucydides had pointed out the difference between the real and the alleged184 cause, and the Aristotelian dictum about revolutions, ο? περ? μικρ?ν ?λλ’ ?κ μικρ?ν, draws the distinction between cause and occasion with the brilliancy of an epigram. But the explicit and rational investigation of the difference between α?τ?α, ?ρχ?, and πρ?φασι? was reserved for Polybius. No canon of historical criticism can be said to be of more real value than that involved in this distinction, and the overlooking of it has filled our histories with the contemptible185 accounts of the intrigues186 of courtiers and of kings and the petty plottings of backstairs influence—particulars interesting, no doubt, to those who would ascribe the Reformation to Anne Boleyn’s pretty face, the Persian war to the influence of a doctor or a curtain-lecture from Atossa, or the French Revolution to Madame de Maintenon, but without any value for those who aim at any scientific treatment of history.
But the question of method, to which I am compelled always to return, is not yet exhausted187. There is another aspect in which it may be regarded, and I shall now proceed to treat of it.
One of the greatest difficulties with which the modern historian has to contend is the enormous complexity188 of the facts which come under his notice: D’Alembert’s suggestion that at the end of every century a selection of facts should be made and the rest burned (if it was really intended seriously) could not, of course, be entertained for a moment. A problem loses all its value when it becomes simplified, and the world would be all the poorer if the Sibyl of History burned her volumes. Besides, as Gibbon pointed out, ‘a Montesquieu will detect in the most insignificant189 fact relations which the vulgar overlook.’
Nor can the scientific investigator of history isolate190 the particular elements, which he desires to examine, from disturbing and extraneous191 causes, as the experimental chemist can do (though sometimes, as in the case of lunatic asylums192 and prisons, he is enabled to observe phenomena in a certain degree of isolation193). So he is compelled either to use the deductive mode of arguing from general laws or to employ the method of abstraction, which gives a fictitious194 isolation to phenomena never so isolated195 in actual existence. And this is exactly what Polybius has done as well as Thucydides. For, as has been well remarked, there is in the works of these two writers a certain plastic unity196 of type and motive; whatever they write is penetrated197 through and through with a specific quality, a singleness and concentration of purpose, which we may contrast with the more comprehensive width as manifested not merely in the modern mind, but also in Herodotus. Thucydides, regarding society as influenced entirely by political motives, took no account of forces of a different nature, and consequently his results, like those of most modern political economists198, have to be modified largely [81] before they come to correspond with what we know was the actual state of fact. Similarly, Polybius will deal only with those forces which tended to bring the civilised world under the dominion199 of Rome (ix. 1), and in the Thucydidean spirit points out the want of picturesqueness200 and romance in his pages which is the result of the abstract method (τ? μονοειδ?? τ?? συντ?ξεω?) being careful also to tell us that his rejection of all other forces is essentially deliberate and the result of a preconceived theory and by no means due to carelessness of any kind.
Now, of the general value of the abstract method and the legality of its employment in the sphere of history, this is perhaps not the suitable occasion for any discussion. It is, however, in all ways worthy202 of note that Polybius is not merely conscious of, but dwells with particular weight on, the fact which is usually urged as the strongest objection to the employment of the abstract method—I mean the conception of a society as a sort of human organism whose parts are indissolubly connected with one another and all affected203 when one member is in any way agitated204. This conception of the organic nature of society appears first in Plato and Aristotle, who apply it to cities. Polybius, as his wont205 is, expands it to be a general characteristic of all history. It is an idea of the very highest importance, especially to a man like Polybius whose thoughts are continually turned towards the essential unity of history and the impossibility of isolation.
Farther, as regards the particular method of investigating that group of phenomena obtained for him by the abstract method, he will adopt, he tells us, neither the purely206 deductive nor the purely inductive mode but the union of both. In other words, he formally adopts that method of analysis upon the importance of which I have dwelt before.
And lastly, while, without doubt, enormous simplicity207 in the elements under consideration is the result of the employment of the abstract method, even within the limit thus obtained a certain selection must be made, and a selection involves a theory. For the facts of life cannot be tabulated208 with as great an ease as the colours of birds and insects can be tabulated. Now, Polybius points out that those phenomena particularly are to be dwelt on which may serve as a παρ?δειγμα or sample, and show the character of the tendencies of the age as clearly as ‘a single drop from a full cask will be enough to disclose the nature of the whole contents.’ This recognition of the importance of single facts, not in themselves but because of the spirit they represent, is extremely scientific; for we know that from the single bone, or tooth even, the anatomist can recreate entirely the skeleton of the primeval horse, and the botanist209 tell the character of the flora210 and fauna211 of a district from a single specimen212.
Regarding truth as ‘the most divine thing in Nature,’ the very ‘eye and light of history without which it moves a blind thing,’ Polybius spared no pains in the acquisition of historical materials or in the study of the sciences of politics and war, which he considered were so essential to the training of the scientific historian, and the labour he took is mirrored in the many ways in which he criticises other authorities.
There is something, as a rule, slightly contemptible about ancient criticism. The modern idea of the critic as the interpreter, the expounder213 of the beauty and excellence of the work he selects, seems quite unknown. Nothing can be more captious214 or unfair, for instance, than the method by which Aristotle criticised the ideal state of Plato in his ethical215 works, and the passages quoted by Polybius from Tim?us show that the latter historian fully deserved the punning name given to him. But in Polybius there is, I think, little of that bitterness and pettiness of spirit which characterises most other writers, and an incidental story he tells of his relations with one of the historians whom he criticised shows that he was a man of great courtesy and refinement216 of taste—as, indeed, befitted one who had lived always in the society of those who were of great and noble birth.
Now, as regards the character of the canons by which he criticises the works of other authors, in the majority of cases he employs simply his own geographical217 and military knowledge, showing, for instance, the impossibility in the accounts given of Nabis’s march from Sparta simply by his acquaintance with the spots in question; or the inconsistency of those of the battle of Issus; or of the accounts given by Ephorus of the battles of Leuctra and Mantinea. In the latter case he says, if any one will take the trouble to measure out the ground of the site of the battle and then test the man?uvres given, he will find how inaccurate the accounts are.
In other cases he appeals to public documents, the importance of which he was always foremost in recognising; showing, for instance, by a document in the public archives of Rhodes how inaccurate were the accounts given of the battle of Lade by Zeno and Antisthenes. Or he appeals to psychological probability, rejecting, for instance, the scandalous stories told of Philip of Macedon, simply from the king’s general greatness of character, and arguing that a boy so well educated and so respectably connected as Demochares (xii. 14) could never have been guilty of that of which evil rumour218 accused him.
But the chief object of his literary censure219 is Tim?us, who had been unsparing of his strictures on others. The general point which he makes against him, impugning220 his accuracy as a historian, is that he derived221 his knowledge of history not from the dangerous perils222 of a life of action but in the secure indolence of a narrow scholastic223 life. There is, indeed, no point on which he is so vehement224 as this. ‘A history,’ he says, ‘written in a library gives as lifeless and as inaccurate a picture of history as a painting which is copied not from a living animal but from a stuffed one.’
There is more difference, he says in another place, between the history of an eye-witness and that of one whose knowledge comes from books, than there is between the scenes of real life and the fictitious landscapes of theatrical225 scenery. Besides this, he enters into somewhat elaborate detailed226 criticism of passages where he thought Tim?us was following a wrong method and perverting227 truth, passages which it will be worth while to examine in detail.
Tim?us, from the fact of there being a Roman custom to shoot a war-horse on a stated day, argued back to the Trojan origin of that people. Polybius, on the other hand, points out that the inference is quite unwarrantable, because horse-sacrifices are ordinary institutions common to all barbarous tribes. Tim?us here, as was common with Greek writers, is arguing back from some custom of the present to an historical event in the past. Polybius really is employing the comparative method, showing how the custom was an ordinary step in the civilisation of every early people.
In another place, [86] he shows how illogical is the scepticism of Tim?us as regards the existence of the Bull of Phalaris simply by appealing to the statue of the Bull, which was still to be seen in Carthage; pointing out how impossible it was, on any other theory except that it belonged to Phalaris, to account for the presence in Carthage of a bull of this peculiar228 character with a door between his shoulders. But one of the great points which he uses against this Sicilian historian is in reference to the question of the origin of the Locrian colony. In accordance with the received tradition on the subject, Aristotle had represented the Locrian colony as founded by some Parthenid? or slaves’ children, as they were called, a statement which seems to have roused the indignation of Tim?us, who went to a good deal of trouble to confute this theory. He does so on the following grounds:—
First of all, he points out that in the ancient days the Greeks had no slaves at all, so the mention of them in the matter is an anachronism; and next he declares that he was shown in the Greek city of Locris certain ancient inscriptions230 in which their relation to the Italian city was expressed in terms of the position between parent and child, which showed also that mutual rights of citizenship231 were accorded to each city. Besides this, he appeals to various questions of improbability as regards their international relationship, on which Polybius takes diametrically opposite grounds which hardly call for discussion. And in favour of his own view he urges two points more: first, that the Laced?monians being allowed furlough for the purpose of seeing their wives at home, it was unlikely that the Locrians should not have had the same privilege; and next, that the Italian Locrians knew nothing of the Aristotelian version and had, on the contrary, very severe laws against adulterers, runaway232 slaves and the like. Now, most of these questions rest on mere probability, which is always such a subjective canon that an appeal to it is rarely conclusive233. I would note, however, as regards the inscriptions which, if genuine, would of course have settled the matter, that Polybius looks on them as a mere invention on the part of Tim?us, who, he remarks, gives no details about them, though, as a rule, he is over-anxious to give chapter and verse for everything. A somewhat more interesting point is that where he attacks Tim?us for the introduction of fictitious speeches into his narrative234; for on this point Polybius seems to be far in advance of the opinions held by literary men on the subject not merely in his own day, but for centuries after.
Herodotus had introduced speeches avowedly235 dramatic and fictitious. Thucydides states clearly that, where he was unable to find out what people really said, he put down what they ought to have said. Sallust alludes, it is true, to the fact of the speech he puts into the mouth of the tribune Memmius being essentially genuine, but the speeches given in the senate on the occasion of the Catilinarian conspiracy236 are very different from the same orations237 as they appear in Cicero. Livy makes his ancient Romans wrangle238 and chop logic6 with all the subtlety239 of a Hortensius or a Sc?vola. And even in later days, when shorthand reporters attended the debates of the senate and a Daily News was published in Rome, we find that one of the most celebrated240 speeches in Tacitus (that in which the Emperor Claudius gives the Gauls their freedom) is shown, by an inscription229 discovered recently at Lugdunum, to be entirely fabulous241.
Upon the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these speeches were not intended to deceive; they were regarded merely as a certain dramatic element which it was allowable to introduce into history for the purpose of giving more life and reality to the narration242, and were to be criticised, not as we should, by arguing how in an age before shorthand was known such a report was possible or how, in the failure of written documents, tradition could bring down such an accurate verbal account, but by the higher test of their psychological probability as regards the persons in whose mouths they are placed. An ancient historian in answer to modern criticism would say, probably, that these fictitious speeches were in reality more truthful243 than the actual ones, just as Aristotle claimed for poetry a higher degree of truth in comparison to history. The whole point is interesting as showing how far in advance of his age Polybius may be said to have been.
The last scientific historian, it is possible to gather from his writings what he considered were the characteristics of the ideal writer of history; and no small light will be thrown on the progress of historical criticism if we strive to collect and analyse what in Polybius are more or less scattered244 expressions. The ideal historian must be contemporary with the events he describes, or removed from them by one generation only. Where it is possible, he is to be an eye-witness of what he writes of; where that is out of his power he is to test all traditions and stories carefully and not to be ready to accept what is plausible245 in place of what is true. He is to be no bookworm living aloof from the experiences of the world in the artificial isolation of a university town, but a politician, a soldier, and a traveller, a man not merely of thought but of action, one who can do great things as well as write of them, who in the sphere of history could be what Byron and ?schylus were in the sphere of poetry, at once le chantre et le héros.
He is to keep before his eyes the fact that chance is merely a synonym246 for our ignorance; that the reign of law pervades247 the domain248 of history as much as it does that of political science. He is to accustom249 himself to look on all occasions for rational and natural causes. And while he is to recognise the practical utility of the supernatural, in an educational point of view, he is not himself to indulge in such intellectual beating of the air as to admit the possibility of the violation of inviolable laws, or to argue in a sphere wherein argument is a priori annihilated. He is to be free from all bias250 towards friend and country; he is to be courteous251 and gentle in criticism; he is not to regard history as a mere opportunity for splendid and tragic writing; nor is he to falsify truth for the sake of a paradox129 or an epigram.
While acknowledging the importance of particular facts as samples of higher truths, he is to take a broad and general view of humanity. He is to deal with the whole race and with the world, not with particular tribes or separate countries. He is to bear in mind that the world is really an organism wherein no one part can be moved without the others being affected also. He is to distinguish between cause and occasion, between the influence of general laws and particular fancies, and he is to remember that the greatest lessons of the world are contained in history and that it is the historian’s duty to manifest them so as to save nations from following those unwise policies which always lead to dishonour252 and ruin, and to teach individuals to apprehend15 by the intellectual culture of history those truths which else they would have to learn in the bitter school of experience.
Now, as regards his theory of the necessity of the historian’s being contemporary with the events he describes, so far as the historian is a mere narrator the remark is undoubtedly253 true. But to appreciate the harmony and rational position of the facts of a great epoch254, to discover its laws, the causes which produced it and the effects which it generates, the scene must be viewed from a certain height and distance to be completely apprehended. A thoroughly255 contemporary historian such as Lord Clarendon or Thucydides is in reality part of the history he criticises; and, in the case of such contemporary historians as Fabius and Philistus, Polybius in compelled to acknowledge that they are misled by patriotic256 and other considerations. Against Polybius himself no such accusation can be made. He indeed of all men is able, as from some lofty tower, to discern the whole tendency of the ancient world, the triumph of Roman institutions and of Greek thought which is the last message of the old world and, in a more spiritual sense, has become the Gospel of the new.
One thing indeed he did not see, or if he saw it, he thought but little of it—how from the East there was spreading over the world, as a wave spreads, a spiritual inroad of new religions from the time when the Pessinuntine mother of the gods, a shapeless mass of stone, was brought to the eternal city by her holiest citizen, to the day when the ship Castor and Pollux stood in at Puteoli, and St. Paul turned his face towards martyrdom and victory at Rome. Polybius was able to predict, from his knowledge of the causes of revolutions and the tendencies of the various forms of governments, the uprising of that democratic tone of thought which, as soon as a seed is sown in the murder of the Gracchi and the exile of Marius, culminated257 as all democratic movements do culminate258, in the supreme authority of one man, the lordship of the world under the world’s rightful lord, Caius Julius C?sar. This, indeed, he saw in no uncertain way. But the turning of all men’s hearts to the East, the first glimmering259 of that splendid dawn which broke over the hills of Galilee and flooded the earth like wine, was hidden from his eyes.
There are many points in the description of the ideal historian which one may compare to the picture which Plato has given us of the ideal philosopher. They are both ‘spectators of all time and all existence.’ Nothing is contemptible in their eyes, for all things have a meaning, and they both walk in august reasonableness before all men, conscious of the workings of God yet free from all terror of mendicant260 priest or vagrant261 miracle-worker. But the parallel ends here. For the one stands aloof from the world-storm of sleet262 and hail, his eyes fixed263 on distant and sunlit heights, loving knowledge for the sake of knowledge and wisdom for the joy of wisdom, while the other is an eager actor in the world ever seeking to apply his knowledge to useful things. Both equally desire truth, but the one because of its utility, the other for its beauty. The historian regards it as the rational principle of all true history, and no more. To the other it comes as an all-pervading and mystic enthusiasm, ‘like the desire of strong wine, the craving of ambition, the passionate264 love of what is beautiful.’
Still, though we miss in the historian those higher and more spiritual qualities which the philosopher of the Academe alone of all men possessed265, we must not blind ourselves to the merits of that great rationalist who seems to have anticipated the very latest words of modern science. Nor yet is he to be regarded merely in the narrow light in which he is estimated by most modern critics, as the explicit champion of rationalism and nothing more. For he is connected with another idea, the course of which is as the course of that great river of his native Arcadia which, springing from some arid266 and sun-bleached rock, gathers strength and beauty as it flows till it reaches the asphodel meadows of Olympia and the light and laughter of Ionian waters.
For in him we can discern the first notes of that great cult32 of the seven-hilled city which made Virgil write his epic267 and Livy his history, which found in Dante its highest exponent268, which dreamed of an Empire where the Emperor would care for the bodies and the Pope for the souls of men, and so has passed into the conception of God’s spiritual empire and the universal brotherhood269 of man and widened into the huge ocean of universal thought as the Peneus loses itself in the sea.
Polybius is the last scientific historian of Greece. The writer who seems fittingly to complete the progress of thought is a writer of biographies only. I will not here touch on Plutarch’s employment of the inductive method as shown in his constant use of inscription and statue, of public document and building and the like, because it involves no new method. It is his attitude towards miracles of which I desire to treat.
Plutarch is philosophic enough to see that in the sense of a violation of the laws of nature a miracle is impossible. It is absurd, he says, to imagine that the statue of a saint can speak, and that an inanimate object not possessing the vocal270 organs should be able to utter an articulate sound. Upon the other hand, he protests against science imagining that, by explaining the natural causes of things, it has explained away their transcendental meaning. ‘When the tears on the cheek of some holy statue have been analysed into the moisture which certain temperatures produce on wood and marble, it yet by no means follows that they were not a sign of grief and mourning set there by God Himself.’ When Lampon saw in the prodigy271 of the one-horned ram34 the omen5 of the supreme rule of Pericles, and when Anaxagoras showed that the abnormal development was the rational resultant of the peculiar formation of the skull272, the dreamer and the man of science were both right; it was the business of the latter to consider how the prodigy came about, of the former to show why it was so formed and what it so portended273. The progression of thought is exemplified in all particulars. Herodotus had a glimmering sense of the impossibility of a violation of nature. Thucydides ignored the supernatural. Polybius rationalised it. Plutarch raises it to its mystical heights again, though he bases it on law. In a word, Plutarch felt that while science brings the supernatural down to the natural, yet ultimately all that is natural is really supernatural. To him, as to many of our own day, religion was that transcendental attitude of the mind which, contemplating274 a world resting on inviolable law, is yet comforted and seeks to worship God not in the violation but in the fulfilment of nature.
It may seem paradoxical to quote in connection with the priest of Ch?ronea such a pure rationalist as Mr. Herbert Spencer; yet when we read as the last message of modern science that ‘when the equation of life has been reduced to its lowest terms the symbols are symbols still,’ mere signs, that is, of that unknown reality which underlies275 all matter and all spirit, we may feel how over the wide strait of centuries thought calls to thought and how Plutarch has a higher position than is usually claimed for him in the progress of the Greek intellect.
And, indeed, it seems that not merely the importance of Plutarch himself but also that of the land of his birth in the evolution of Greek civilisation has been passed over by modern critics. To us, indeed, the bare rock to which the Parthenon serves as a crown, and which lies between Colonus and Attica’s violet hills, will always be the holiest spot in the land of Greece: and Delphi will come next, and then the meadows of Eurotas where that noble people lived who represented in Hellenic thought the reaction of the law of duty against the law of beauty, the opposition276 of conduct to culture. Yet, as one stands on the σχιστ? ?δ?? of Cith?ron and looks out on the great double plain of Boeotia, the enormous importance of the division of Hellas comes to one’s mind with great force. To the north are Orchomenus and the Minyan treasure-house, seat of those merchant princes of Phoenicia who brought to Greece the knowledge of letters and the art of working in gold. Thebes is at our feet with the gloom of the terrible legends of Greek tragedy still lingering about it, the birthplace of Pindar, the nurse of Epaminondas and the Sacred Band.
And from out of the plain where ‘Mars loved to dance,’ rises the Muses’ haunt, Helicon, by whose silver streams Corinna and Hesiod sang; while far away under the white ?gis of those snow-capped mountains lies Ch?ronea and the Lion plain where with vain chivalry277 the Greeks strove to check Macedon first and afterwards Rome; Ch?ronea, where in the Martinmas summer of Greek civilisation Plutarch rose from the drear waste of a dying religion as the aftermath rises when the mowers think they have left the field bare.
Greek philosophy began and ended in scepticism: the first and the last word of Greek history was Faith.
Splendid thus in its death, like winter sunsets, the Greek religion passed away into the horror of night. For the Cimmerian darkness was at hand, and when the schools of Athens were closed and the statue of Athena broken, the Greek spirit passed from the gods and the history of its own land to the subtleties278 of defining the doctrine of the Trinity and the mystical attempts to bring Plato into harmony with Christ and to reconcile Gethsemane and the Sermon on the Mount with the Athenian prison and the discussion in the woods of Colonus. The Greek spirit slept for wellnigh a thousand years. When it woke again, like Ant?us it had gathered strength from the earth where it lay; like Apollo it had lost none of its divinity through its long servitude.
In the history of Roman thought we nowhere find any of those characteristics of the Greek Illumination which I have pointed out are the necessary concomitants of the rise of historical criticism. The conservative respect for tradition which made the Roman people delight in the ritual and formulas of law, and is as apparent in their politics as in their religion, was fatal to any rise of that spirit of revolt against authority the importance of which, as a factor in intellectual progress, we have already seen.
The whitened tables of the Pontifices preserved carefully the records of the eclipses and other atmospherical279 phenomena, and what we call the art of verifying dates was known to them at an early time; but there was no spontaneous rise of physical science to suggest by its analogies of law and order a new method of research, nor any natural springing up of the questioning spirit of philosophy with its unification of all phenomena and all knowledge. At the very time when the whole tide of Eastern superstition was sweeping280 into the heart of the Capital the Senate banished281 the Greek philosophers from Rome. And of the three systems which did at length take some root in the city, those of Zeno and Epicurus were used merely as the rule for the ordering of life, while the dogmatic scepticism of Carneades, by its very principles, annihilated the possibility of argument and encouraged a perfect indifference to research.
Nor were the Romans ever fortunate enough like the Greeks to have to face the incubus282 of any dogmatic system of legends and myths, the immoralities and absurdities283 of which might excite a revolutionary outbreak of sceptical criticism. For the Roman religion became as it were crystallised and isolated from progress at an early period of its evolution. Their gods remained mere abstractions of commonplace virtues284 or uninteresting personifications of the useful things of life. The old primitive285 creed286 was indeed always upheld as a state institution on account of the enormous facilities it offered for cheating in politics, but as a spiritual system of belief it was unanimously rejected at a very early period both by the common people and the educated classes, for the sensible reason that it was so extremely dull. The former took refuge in the mystic sensualities of the worship of Isis, the latter in the Stoical rules of life. The Romans classified their gods carefully in their order of precedence, analysed their genealogies287 in the laborious288 spirit of modern heraldry, fenced them round with a ritual as intricate as their law, but never quite cared enough about them to believe in them. So it was of no account with them when the philosophers announced that Minerva was merely memory. She had never been much else. Nor did they protest when Lucretius dared to say of Ceres and of Liber that they were only the corn of the field and the fruit of the vine. For they had never mourned for the daughter of Demeter in the asphodel meadows of Sicily, nor traversed the glades289 of Cith?ron with fawn-skin and with spear.
This brief sketch290 of the condition of Roman thought will serve to prepare us for the almost total want of scientific historical criticism which we shall discern in their literature, and has, besides, afforded fresh corroboration291 of the conditions essential to the rise of this spirit, and of the modes of thought which it reflects and in which it is always to be found. Roman historical composition had its origin in the pontifical292 college of ecclesiastical lawyers, and preserved to its close the uncritical spirit which characterised its fountain-head. It possessed from the outset a most voluminous collection of the materials of history, which, however, produced merely antiquarians, not historians. It is so hard to use facts, so easy to accumulate them.
Wearied of the dull monotony of the pontifical annals, which dwelt on little else but the rise and fall in provisions and the eclipses of the sun, Cato wrote out a history with his own hand for the instruction of his child, to which he gave the name of Origines, and before his time some aristocratic families had written histories in Greek much in the same spirit in which the Germans of the eighteenth century used French as the literary language. But the first regular Roman historian is Sallust. Between the extravagant293 eulogies294 passed on this author by the French (such as De Closset), and Dr. Mommsen’s view of him as merely a political pamphleteer, it is perhaps difficult to reach the via media of unbiassed appreciation295. He has, at any rate, the credit of being a purely rationalistic historian, perhaps the only one in Roman literature. Cicero had a good many qualifications for a scientific historian, and (as he usually did) thought very highly of his own powers. On passages of ancient legend, however, he is rather unsatisfactory, for while he is too sensible to believe them he is too patriotic to reject them. And this is really the attitude of Livy, who claims for early Roman legend a certain uncritical homage296 from the rest of the subject world. His view in his history is that it is not worth while to examine the truth of these stories.
In his hands the history of Rome unrolls before our eyes like some gorgeous tapestry297, where victory succeeds victory, where triumph treads on the heels of triumph, and the line of heroes seems never to end. It is not till we pass behind the canvas and see the slight means by which the effect is produced that we apprehend the fact that like most picturesque201 writers Livy is an indifferent critic. As regards his attitude towards the credibility of early Roman history he is quite as conscious as we are of its mythical298 and unsound nature. He will not, for instance, decide whether the Horatii were Albans or Romans; who was the first dictator; how many tribunes there were, and the like. His method, as a rule, is merely to mention all the accounts and sometimes to decide in favour of the most probable, but usually not to decide at all. No canons of historical criticism will ever discover whether the Roman women interviewed the mother of Coriolanus of their own accord or at the suggestion of the senate; whether Remus was killed for jumping over his brother’s wall or because they quarrelled about birds; whether the ambassadors found Cincinnatus ploughing or only mending a hedge. Livy suspends his judgment over these important facts and history when questioned on their truth is dumb. If he does select between two historians he chooses the one who is nearer to the facts he describes. But he is no critic, only a conscientious299 writer. It is mere vain waste to dwell on his critical powers, for they do not exist.
In the case of Tacitus imagination has taken the place of history. The past lives again in his pages, but through no laborious criticism; rather through a dramatic and psychological faculty300 which he specially possessed.
In the philosophy of history he has no belief. He can never make up his mind what to believe as regards God’s government of the world. There is no method in him and none elsewhere in Roman literature.
Nations may not have missions but they certainly have functions. And the function of ancient Italy was not merely to give us what is statical in our institutions and rational in our law, but to blend into one elemental creed the spiritual aspirations of Aryan and of Semite. Italy was not a pioneer in intellectual progress, nor a motive power in the evolution of thought. The owl12 of the goddess of Wisdom traversed over the whole land and found nowhere a resting-place. The dove, which is the bird of Christ, flew straight to the city of Rome and the new reign began. It was the fashion of early Italian painters to represent in medi?val costume the soldiers who watched over the tomb of Christ, and this, which was the result of the frank anachronism of all true art, may serve to us as an allegory. For it was in vain that the Middle Ages strove to guard the buried spirit of progress. When the dawn of the Greek spirit arose, the sepulchre was empty, the grave-clothes laid aside. Humanity had risen from the dead.
The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies the birth of criticism, comparison and research. At the opening of that education of modern by ancient thought which we call the Renaissance301, it was the words of Aristotle which sent Columbus sailing to the New World, while a fragment of Pythagorean astronomy set Copernicus thinking on that train of reasoning which has revolutionised the whole position of our planet in the universe. Then it was seen that the only meaning of progress is a return to Greek modes of thought. The monkish302 hymns303 which obscured the pages of Greek manuscripts were blotted304 out, the splendours of a new method were unfolded to the world, and out of the melancholy305 sea of medi?valism rose the free spirit of man in all that splendour of glad adolescence306, when the bodily powers seem quickened by a new vitality307, when the eye sees more clearly than its wont and the mind apprehends308 what was beforetime hidden from it. To herald the opening of the sixteenth century, from the little Venetian printing press came forth all the great authors of antiquity, each bearing on the title-page the words ?λδο? ? Μανο?τιο? ?ωμα?ο? κα? Φιλ?λλην; words which may serve to remind us with what wondrous prescience Polybius saw the world’s fate when he foretold309 the material sovereignty of Roman institutions and exemplified in himself the intellectual empire of Greece.
The course of the study of the spirit of historical criticism has not been a profitless investigation into modes and forms of thought now antiquated310 and of no account. The only spirit which is entirely removed from us is the medi?val; the Greek spirit is essentially modern. The introduction of the comparative method of research which has forced history to disclose its secrets belongs in a measure to us. Ours, too, is a more scientific knowledge of philology and the method of survival. Nor did the ancients know anything of the doctrine of averages or of crucial instances, both of which methods have proved of such importance in modern criticism, the one adding a most important proof of the statical elements of history, and exemplifying the influences of all physical surroundings on the life of man; the other, as in the single instance of the Moulin Quignon skull, serving to create a whole new science of prehistoric311 arch?ology and to bring us back to a time when man was coeval312 with the stone age, the mammoth313 and the woolly rhinoceros314. But, except these, we have added no new canon or method to the science of historical criticism. Across the drear waste of a thousand years the Greek and the modern spirit join hands.
In the torch race which the Greek boys ran from the Cerameician field of death to the home of the goddess of Wisdom, not merely he who first reached the goal but he also who first started with the torch aflame received a prize. In the Lampadephoria of civilisation and free thought let us not forget to render due meed of honour to those who first lit that sacred flame, the increasing splendour of which lights our footsteps to the far-off divine event of the attainment74 of perfect truth.
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1 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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2 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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3 mediate | |
vi.调解,斡旋;vt.经调解解决;经斡旋促成 | |
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4 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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5 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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6 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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7 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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8 pauperism | |
n.有被救济的资格,贫困 | |
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9 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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10 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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11 philosophic | |
adj.哲学的,贤明的 | |
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12 owl | |
n.猫头鹰,枭 | |
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13 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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14 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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15 apprehend | |
vt.理解,领悟,逮捕,拘捕,忧虑 | |
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16 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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17 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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18 spartan | |
adj.简朴的,刻苦的;n.斯巴达;斯巴达式的人 | |
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19 tract | |
n.传单,小册子,大片(土地或森林) | |
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20 platonic | |
adj.精神的;柏拉图(哲学)的 | |
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21 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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22 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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23 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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24 mar | |
vt.破坏,毁坏,弄糟 | |
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25 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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26 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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27 nominal | |
adj.名义上的;(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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28 persistence | |
n.坚持,持续,存留 | |
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29 equilibrium | |
n.平衡,均衡,相称,均势,平静 | |
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30 philistine | |
n.庸俗的人;adj.市侩的,庸俗的 | |
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31 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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32 cult | |
n.异教,邪教;时尚,狂热的崇拜 | |
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33 oligarchy | |
n.寡头政治 | |
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34 ram | |
(random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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35 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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36 avarice | |
n.贪婪;贪心 | |
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37 oligarchies | |
n.寡头统治的政府( oligarchy的名词复数 );寡头政治的执政集团;寡头统治的国家 | |
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38 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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39 residual | |
adj.复播复映追加时间;存留下来的,剩余的 | |
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40 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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41 permanently | |
adv.永恒地,永久地,固定不变地 | |
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42 maxim | |
n.格言,箴言 | |
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43 evolutionary | |
adj.进化的;演化的,演变的;[生]进化论的 | |
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44 explicitly | |
ad.明确地,显然地 | |
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45 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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46 labyrinth | |
n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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47 pitfall | |
n.隐患,易犯的错误;陷阱,圈套 | |
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48 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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49 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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50 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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51 landmarks | |
n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 );目标;(标志重要阶段的)里程碑 ~ (in sth);有历史意义的建筑物(或遗址) | |
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52 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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53 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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54 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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55 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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56 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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57 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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58 glade | |
n.林间空地,一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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59 interfering | |
adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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60 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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61 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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62 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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63 physiology | |
n.生理学,生理机能 | |
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64 impure | |
adj.不纯净的,不洁的;不道德的,下流的 | |
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65 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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66 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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67 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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68 longitude | |
n.经线,经度 | |
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69 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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70 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
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71 oligarchical | |
adj.寡头政治的,主张寡头政治的 | |
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72 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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73 attainments | |
成就,造诣; 获得( attainment的名词复数 ); 达到; 造诣; 成就 | |
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74 attainment | |
n.达到,到达;[常pl.]成就,造诣 | |
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75 temperate | |
adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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76 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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77 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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78 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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79 enervating | |
v.使衰弱,使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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80 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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81 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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82 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) | |
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83 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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84 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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85 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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86 counteraction | |
反对的行动,抵抗,反动 | |
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87 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
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88 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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89 inaccurate | |
adj.错误的,不正确的,不准确的 | |
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90 disciples | |
n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 );门徒;耶稣的信徒;(尤指)耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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91 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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92 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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93 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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94 marred | |
adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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95 imputing | |
v.把(错误等)归咎于( impute的现在分词 ) | |
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96 eminently | |
adv.突出地;显著地;不寻常地 | |
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97 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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98 locomotion | |
n.运动,移动 | |
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99 factions | |
组织中的小派别,派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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100 fanaticism | |
n.狂热,盲信 | |
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101 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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102 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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103 herald | |
vt.预示...的来临,预告,宣布,欢迎 | |
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104 rouge | |
n.胭脂,口红唇膏;v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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105 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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106 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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107 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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108 synchronous | |
adj.同步的 | |
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109 detriment | |
n.损害;损害物,造成损害的根源 | |
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110 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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111 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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112 expounded | |
论述,详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113 impartial | |
adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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114 differentiated | |
区分,区别,辨别( differentiate的过去式和过去分词 ); 区别对待; 表明…间的差别,构成…间差别的特征 | |
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115 unifying | |
使联合( unify的现在分词 ); 使相同; 使一致; 统一 | |
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116 trenchant | |
adj.尖刻的,清晰的 | |
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117 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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118 underlying | |
adj.在下面的,含蓄的,潜在的 | |
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119 implicit | |
a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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120 predecessors | |
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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121 pendulum | |
n.摆,钟摆 | |
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122 panegyric | |
n.颂词,颂扬 | |
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123 alludes | |
提及,暗指( allude的第三人称单数 ) | |
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124 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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125 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126 rhetoric | |
n.修辞学,浮夸之言语 | |
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127 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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128 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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129 paradox | |
n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法;自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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130 paradoxes | |
n.似非而是的隽语,看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 );用于语言文学中的上述隽语;有矛盾特点的人[事物,情况] | |
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131 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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132 gracefulness | |
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133 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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134 philology | |
n.语言学;语文学 | |
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135 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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136 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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137 omens | |
n.前兆,预兆( omen的名词复数 ) | |
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138 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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139 grovelling | |
adj.卑下的,奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节,奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 );趴 | |
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140 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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141 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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142 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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143 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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144 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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145 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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146 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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147 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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148 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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149 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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150 formulated | |
v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 );规划;确切地阐述;用公式表示 | |
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151 annihilate | |
v.使无效;毁灭;取消 | |
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152 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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153 culmination | |
n.顶点;最高潮 | |
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154 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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155 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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156 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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157 sieve | |
n.筛,滤器,漏勺 | |
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158 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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159 advisers | |
顾问,劝告者( adviser的名词复数 ); (指导大学新生学科问题等的)指导教授 | |
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160 subjective | |
a.主观(上)的,个人的 | |
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161 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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162 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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163 reluctance | |
n.厌恶,讨厌,勉强,不情愿 | |
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164 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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165 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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166 violation | |
n.违反(行为),违背(行为),侵犯 | |
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167 acquiesces | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的第三人称单数 ) | |
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168 acquiesce | |
vi.默许,顺从,同意 | |
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169 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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170 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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171 candid | |
adj.公正的,正直的;坦率的 | |
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172 banish | |
vt.放逐,驱逐;消除,排除 | |
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173 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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174 oratorical | |
adj.演说的,雄辩的 | |
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175 allure | |
n.诱惑力,魅力;vt.诱惑,引诱,吸引 | |
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176 investigator | |
n.研究者,调查者,审查者 | |
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177 elucidation | |
n.说明,阐明 | |
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178 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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179 analytical | |
adj.分析的;用分析法的 | |
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180 seizure | |
n.没收;占有;抵押 | |
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181 pretexts | |
n.借口,托辞( pretext的名词复数 ) | |
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182 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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183 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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184 alleged | |
a.被指控的,嫌疑的 | |
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185 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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186 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
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187 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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188 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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189 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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190 isolate | |
vt.使孤立,隔离 | |
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191 extraneous | |
adj.体外的;外来的;外部的 | |
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192 asylums | |
n.避难所( asylum的名词复数 );庇护;政治避难;精神病院 | |
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193 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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194 fictitious | |
adj.虚构的,假设的;空头的 | |
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195 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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196 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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197 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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198 economists | |
n.经济学家,经济专家( economist的名词复数 ) | |
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199 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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200 picturesqueness | |
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201 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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202 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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203 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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204 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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205 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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206 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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207 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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208 tabulated | |
把(数字、事实)列成表( tabulate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209 botanist | |
n.植物学家 | |
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210 flora | |
n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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211 fauna | |
n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物,动物区系 | |
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212 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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213 expounder | |
陈述者,说明者 | |
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214 captious | |
adj.难讨好的,吹毛求疵的 | |
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215 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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216 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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217 geographical | |
adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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218 rumour | |
n.谣言,谣传,传闻 | |
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219 censure | |
v./n.责备;非难;责难 | |
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220 impugning | |
v.非难,指谪( impugn的现在分词 );对…有怀疑 | |
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221 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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222 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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223 scholastic | |
adj.学校的,学院的,学术上的 | |
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224 vehement | |
adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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225 theatrical | |
adj.剧场的,演戏的;做戏似的,做作的 | |
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226 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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227 perverting | |
v.滥用( pervert的现在分词 );腐蚀;败坏;使堕落 | |
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228 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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229 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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230 inscriptions | |
(作者)题词( inscription的名词复数 ); 献词; 碑文; 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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231 citizenship | |
n.市民权,公民权,国民的义务(身份) | |
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232 runaway | |
n.逃走的人,逃亡,亡命者;adj.逃亡的,逃走的 | |
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233 conclusive | |
adj.最后的,结论的;确凿的,消除怀疑的 | |
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234 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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235 avowedly | |
adv.公然地 | |
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236 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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237 orations | |
n.(正式仪式中的)演说,演讲( oration的名词复数 ) | |
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238 wrangle | |
vi.争吵 | |
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239 subtlety | |
n.微妙,敏锐,精巧;微妙之处,细微的区别 | |
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240 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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241 fabulous | |
adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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242 narration | |
n.讲述,叙述;故事;记叙体 | |
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243 truthful | |
adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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244 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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245 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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246 synonym | |
n.同义词,换喻词 | |
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247 pervades | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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248 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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249 accustom | |
vt.使适应,使习惯 | |
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250 bias | |
n.偏见,偏心,偏袒;vt.使有偏见 | |
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251 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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252 dishonour | |
n./vt.拒付(支票、汇票、票据等);vt.凌辱,使丢脸;n.不名誉,耻辱,不光彩 | |
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253 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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254 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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255 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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256 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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257 culminated | |
v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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258 culminate | |
v.到绝顶,达于极点,达到高潮 | |
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259 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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260 mendicant | |
n.乞丐;adj.行乞的 | |
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261 vagrant | |
n.流浪者,游民;adj.流浪的,漂泊不定的 | |
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262 sleet | |
n.雨雪;v.下雨雪,下冰雹 | |
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263 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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264 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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265 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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266 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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267 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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268 exponent | |
n.倡导者,拥护者;代表人物;指数,幂 | |
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269 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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270 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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271 prodigy | |
n.惊人的事物,奇迹,神童,天才,预兆 | |
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272 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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273 portended | |
v.预示( portend的过去式和过去分词 );预兆;给…以警告;预告 | |
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274 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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275 underlies | |
v.位于或存在于(某物)之下( underlie的第三人称单数 );构成…的基础(或起因),引起 | |
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276 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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277 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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278 subtleties | |
细微( subtlety的名词复数 ); 精细; 巧妙; 细微的差别等 | |
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279 atmospherical | |
adj.空气的,气压的 | |
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280 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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281 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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282 incubus | |
n.负担;恶梦 | |
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283 absurdities | |
n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 );荒谬;谬论;荒谬的行为 | |
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284 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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285 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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286 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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287 genealogies | |
n.系谱,家系,宗谱( genealogy的名词复数 ) | |
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288 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
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289 glades | |
n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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290 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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291 corroboration | |
n.进一步的证实,进一步的证据 | |
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292 pontifical | |
adj.自以为是的,武断的 | |
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293 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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294 eulogies | |
n.颂词,颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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295 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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296 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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297 tapestry | |
n.挂毯,丰富多采的画面 | |
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298 mythical | |
adj.神话的;虚构的;想像的 | |
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299 conscientious | |
adj.审慎正直的,认真的,本着良心的 | |
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300 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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301 renaissance | |
n.复活,复兴,文艺复兴 | |
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302 monkish | |
adj.僧侣的,修道士的,禁欲的 | |
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303 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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304 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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305 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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306 adolescence | |
n.青春期,青少年 | |
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307 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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308 apprehends | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的第三人称单数 ); 理解 | |
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309 foretold | |
v.预言,预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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310 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
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311 prehistoric | |
adj.(有记载的)历史以前的,史前的,古老的 | |
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312 coeval | |
adj.同时代的;n.同时代的人或事物 | |
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313 mammoth | |
n.长毛象;adj.长毛象似的,巨大的 | |
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314 rhinoceros | |
n.犀牛 | |
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