The passengers on a great ocean liner are apt to imagine, because their stomachs are now so little troubled by the perturbation of the waves, that it no longer profits them to offer up the familiar prayer 'for those in peril4 on the sea.' It is difficult for them to believe in danger where everything appears so steady and well-ordered, and where they can enjoy most of the distractions5 of urban life, from a cinematograph theatre to a skittle-alley, merely by descending6 a gilded7 staircase or crossing a brightly panelled corridor. But this agreeable sense of safety is perhaps due in a greater degree to fancy, than to the changes which have taken place in the essential facts. As dangers have been diminished in one direction {208} risks have been incurred8 in another. A blunder to-day is more irreparable than formerly9, and the havoc10 which ensues upon a blunder is vastly more appalling11. An error of observation or of judgment12—the wrong lever pulled or the wrong button pressed—an order which miscarries or is overlooked—and twenty thousand tons travelling at twenty knots an hour goes to the bottom, with its freight of humanity, merchandise, and treasure, more easily, and with greater speed and certainty, than in the days of the old galleons—than in the days when Drake, in the Golden Hind13 of a hundred tons burden, beat up against head winds in the Straits of Magellan, and ran before the following gale14 off the Cape15 of Storms.
Comfort, whether in ships of travel or of state, is not the same thing as security. It never has been, and it never will be.
The position after Queen Victoria's death also differed from all previous times in another way. After more than three centuries of turmoil16 and expansion, the British race had entered into possession of an estate so vast, so rich in all natural resources, that a sane17 mind could not hope for, or even dream of, any further aggrandisement. Whatever may be the diseases from which the British race suffered during the short epoch between January 1901 and July 1914, megalomania was certainly not one of them.
The period of acquisition being now acknowledged at an end, popular imagination became much occupied with other things. It assumed, too lightly and readily perhaps, that nothing was likely to interfere18 with our continuing to hold what we had got. If there was not precisely19 a law of nature, which precluded20 the possessions of the British Empire from ever being {209} taken away, at any rate there was the law of nations. The public opinion of the world would surely revolt against so heinous21 a form of sacrilege. Having assumed so much, placidly22 and contentedly23, and without even a tremor24 either as to the good-will or the potency25 of the famous Concert of Europe, the larger part of public opinion tended to become more and more engrossed26 in other problems. It began to concern itself earnestly with the improvement of the condition of the people, and with the reform and consolidation27 of institutions. Incidentally, and as a part of each of these endeavours, the development of an estate which had come, mainly by inheritance, into the trusteeship of the British people, began seriously to occupy their thoughts.
SOCIAL AND CONSTITUTIONAL REFORM
These were problems of great worth and dignity, but nevertheless there was one condition of their successful solution, which ought to have been kept in mind, but which possibly was somewhat overlooked. If we allowed ourselves to be so much absorbed by these two problems that we gave insufficient28 heed29 to our defences, it was as certain as any human forecast could be, that the solution of a great deal, which was perplexing us in the management of our internal affairs, would be summarily taken out of the hands of Britain and her Dominions30 and solved according to the ideas of strangers.
If we were to bring our policy of social and constitutional improvement and the development of our estate to a successful issue, we must be safe from interruption from outside. We must secure ourselves against foreign aggression31; for we needed time. Our various problems could not be solved in a day or even in a generation. The most urgent {210} of all matters was security, for it was the prime condition of all the rest.
We desired, not merely to hold what we had got, but to enjoy it, and make it fructify32 and prosper33, in our own way, and under our own institutions. For this we needed peace within our own sphere; and therefore it was necessary that we should be strong enough to enforce peace.
During the post-Victorian period—this short epoch of transition—there were therefore three separate sets of problems which between them absorbed the energies of public men and occupied the thoughts of all private persons, at home and in the Dominions, to whom the present and future well-being34 of their country was a matter of concern.
The first of these problems was Defence: How might the British Commonwealth, which held so vast a portion of the habitable globe, and which was responsible for the government of a full quarter of all the people who dwelt thereon—how might it best secure itself against the dangers which threatened it from without?
The second was the problem of the Constitution: How could we best develop, to what extent must we remake or remould, our ancient institutions, so as to fit them for those duties and responsibilities which new conditions required that they should be able to perform? Under this head we were faced with projects, not merely of local self-government, of 'Home Rule,' and of 'Federalism'; not merely with the working of the Parliament Act, with the composition, functions, and powers of the Second Chamber35, with the Referendum, the Franchise36, and {211} such like; but also with that vast and even more perplexing question—what were to be the future relations between the Mother Country and the self-governing Dominions on the one hand, and between these five democratic nations and the Indian Empire and the Dependencies upon the other?
For the third set of problems no concise37 title has yet been found. Social Reform does not cover it, though perhaps it comes nearer doing so than any other. The matters involved here were so multifarious and, apparently38 at least, so detached one from another—they presented themselves to different minds at so many different angles and under such different aspects—that no single word or phrase was altogether satisfactory. But briefly39, what all men were engaged in searching after—the Labour party, no more and no less than the Radicals40 and the Tories—was how we could raise the character and material conditions of our people; how by better organisation41 we could root out needless misery42 of mind and body; how we could improve the health and the intelligence, stimulate43 the sense of duty and fellowship, the efficiency and the patriotism44 of the whole community.
Of these three sets of problems with which the British race has recently been occupying itself, this, the third, is intrinsically by far the most important.
IMPORTANCE OF SOCIAL REFORM
It is the most important because it is an end in itself whereas the other two are only the means for achieving this end. Security against foreign attack is a desirable and worthy45 object only in order to enable us to approach this goal. A strong and flexible constitution is an advantage only because we believe it will enable us to achieve our objects, better and more quickly, than if we are compelled to go on working {212} under a system which has become at once rigid46 and rickety. But while we were bound to realise the superior nature of the third set of problems, we should have been careful at the same time to distinguish between two things which are very apt to be confused in political discussions—ultimate importance and immediate48 urgency.
We ought to have taken into our reckoning both the present state of the world and the permanent nature of man—all the stuff that dreams and wars are made on. We desired peace. We needed peace. Peace was a matter of life and death to all our hopes. If defeat should once break into the ring of our commonwealth—scattered as it is all over the world, kept together only by the finest and most delicate attachments—it must be broken irreparably. Our most immediate interest was therefore to keep defeat, and if possible, war, from bursting into our sphere—as Dutchmen by centuries of laborious49 vigilance have kept back the sea with dikes.
The numbers of our people in themselves were no security; nor our riches; nor even the fact that we entertained no aggressive designs. For as it was said long ago, 'it never troubles a wolf how many the sheep be.' They find no salvation50 in their heavy fleeces and their fat haunches; nor even in the meekness51 of their hearts, and in their innocence52 of all evil intentions.
The characteristic of this period may be summed up in one short sentence; the vast majority of the British people were bent53 and determined54—as they had never been bent and determined before—upon leaving their country better than they had found it.
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To some this statement will seem a paradox55. "Was there ever a time," they may ask, "when there had been so many evidences of popular unrest, discontent, bitterness and anger; or when there had ever appeared to be so great an inclination56, on the one hand to apathy57 and cynicism, on the other hand to despair?"
THE RESULTS OF CONFUSION
Were all this true, it would still be no paradox; but only a natural consequence. Things are very liable to slip into this state, when men who are in earnest—knowing the facts as they exist in their respective spheres; knowing the evils at first hand; believing (very often with reason) that they understand the true remedies—find themselves baulked, and foiled, and headed off at every turn, their objects misconceived and their motives58 misconstrued, and the current of their wasted efforts burying itself hopelessly in the sand. Under such conditions as these, public bodies and political parties alike—confused by the multitude and congestion59 of issues—are apt to bestow60 their dangerous attentions, now on one matter which happens to dart61 into the limelight, now upon another; but in the general hubbub62 and perplexity they lose all sense, both of true proportion and natural priority. Everything is talked about; much is attempted in a piecemeal63, slap-dash, impulsive64 fashion; inconsiderably little is brought to any conclusion whatsoever65; while nothing, or next to nothing, is considered on its merits, and carried through thoughtfully to a clean and abiding66 settlement.... The word 'thorough' seemed to have dropped out of the political vocabulary. In an age of specialism politics alone was abandoned to the Jack-of-all-trades.
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This phenomenon—the depreciated67 currency of public character—was not peculiar68 to one party more than another. It was not even peculiar to this particular time. It has shown itself at various epochs—much in the same way as the small-pox and the plague—when favoured by insanitary conditions. The sedate69 Scots philosopher, Adam Smith, writing during the gloomy period which fell upon England after the glory of the great Chatham had departed, could not repress his bitterness against "that insidious70 and crafty71 animal, vulgarly called a statesman or politician, whose councils are directed by the momentary72 fluctuations73 of affairs." It would seem as if the body politic47 is not unlike the human, and becomes more readily a prey74 to vermin, when it has sunk into a morbid75 condition.
Popular judgment may be trusted as a rule, and in the long run, to decide a clear issue between truth and falsehood, and to decide it in favour of the former. But it becomes perplexed76, when it is called upon to discriminate77 between the assurances of two rival sets of showmen, whose eagerness to outbid each other in the public favour leaves truthfulness78 out of account. In the absence of gold, one brazen79 counterfeit80 rings very much like another. People may be suspicious of both coins; but on the whole their fancy is more readily caught by the optimist81 effigy82 than the pessimist83. They may not place entire trust in the 'ever-cheerful man of sin,' with his flattery, his abounding84 sympathy, his flowery promises, and his undefeated hopefulness; but they prefer him at any rate to 'the melancholy85 Jaques,' booming maledictions with a mournful {215} constancy, like some bittern in the desolation of the marshes86.
So far as principles were concerned most of the trouble was unnecessary. Among the would-be reformers—among those who sincerely desired to bring about efficiency within their own spheres—there was surprisingly little that can truly be called antagonism87. But competition of an important kind—competition for public attention and priority of treatment—had produced many of the unfortunate results of antagonism. It was inevitable88 that this lamentable89 state of things must continue, until it had been realised that one small body of men, elected upon a variety of cross issues, could not safely be left in charge of the defence of the Empire, the domestic welfare of the United Kingdom, and the local government of its several units.
ARTIFICIAL ANTAGONISMS90
It was not merely that the various aims were not opposed to one another; they were actually helpful to one another. Often, indeed, they were essential to the permanent success of one another. The man who desired to improve the conditions of the poor was not, therefore, the natural enemy of him who wanted to place the national defences on a secure footing. And neither of these was the natural enemy of others who wished to bring about a settlement of the Irish question, or of the Constitutional question, or of the Imperial question. But owing partly to the inadequacy91 of the machinery92 for giving a free course to these various aspirations93—partly to the fact that the machinery itself was antiquated94, in bad repair, and had become clogged95 with a variety of obstructions—there was an unfortunate tendency on the part of every one who had any particular object very much {216} at heart, to regard every one else who was equally concerned about any other object as an impediment in his path.
The need of the time, of course, was leadership—a great man—or better still two great men, one on each side—like the blades of a pair of scissors—to cut a way out of the confusion by bringing their keen edges into contact. But obviously, the greater the confusion the harder it is for leadership to assert itself. We may be sure enough that there were men of character and capacity equal to the task if only they could have been discovered. But they were not discovered.
There were other things besides the confusion of aims and ideas which made it hard for leaders to emerge. The loose coherency of parties which prevailed during the greater part of the nineteenth century had given place to a set of highly organised machines, which employed without remorse96 the oriental method of strangulation, against everything in the nature of independent effort and judgment. The politician class had increased greatly in numbers and influence. The eminent97 and ornamental98 people who were returned to Westminster filled the public eye, but they were only a small proportion of the whole; nor is it certain that they exercised the largest share of authority. When in the autumn of 1913 Sir John Brunner determined to prevent Mr. Churchill from obtaining the provisions for the Navy which were judged necessary for the safety of the Empire, the method adopted was to raise the National Liberal Federation99 against the First Lord of the Admiralty, and through the agency of that powerful organisation to bring pressure to bear {217} upon the country, members of Parliament, and the Cabinet itself.
BAD MONEY DRIVES OUT GOOD
It is unpopular to say that the House of Commons has deteriorated100 in character, but it is true. An assembly, the members of which cannot call their souls their own, will never tend in an upward direction. The machines which are managed with so much energy and skill by the external parasites101 of politics, have long ago taken over full responsibility for the souls of their nominees102. According to 'Gresham's law,' bad money, if admitted into currency, will always end by driving out good. A similar principle has been at work for some time past in British public life, by virtue103 of which the baser kind of politicians, having got a footing, are driving out their betters at a rapid pace. Few members of Parliament will admit this fact; but they are not impartial104 judges, for every one is naturally averse105 from disparaging106 an institution to which he belongs.
During the nineteenth century, except at the very beginning, and again at the very end of it, very few people ever thought of going into Parliament, or even into politics, in order that they might thrive thereby107, or find a field for improving their private fortunes. This cannot be said with truth of the epoch which has just ended. There has been a change both in tone and outlook during the last thirty years. Things have been done and approved by the House of Commons, elected in December 1910, which it is quite inconceivable that the House of Commons, returned in 1880, would ever have entertained. The Gladstonian era had its faults, but among them laxity in matters of finance did not figure. Indeed private members, as well as statesmen, not infrequently {218} crossed the border-line which separates purism from pedantry108; occasionally they carried strictness to the verge109 of absurdity110; but this was a fault in the right direction—a great safeguard to the public interest, a peculiarly valuable tendency from the standpoint of democracy.
A twelvemonth ago a number of very foolish persons were anxious to persuade us that the predominant issue was the Army versus111 the People. But even the crispness of the phrase was powerless to convince public opinion of so staggering an untruth. The predominant issue at that particular moment was only what it had been for a good many years before—the People versus the Party System.
NEED OF RICH MEN
What is apt to be ignored is, that with the increase of wealth on the one hand, and the extension of the franchise on the other, the Party System has gradually become a vested interest upon an enormous scale,—like the liquor trade of which we hear so much, or the haute finance of which perhaps we hear too little. Rich men are required in politics, for the reason that it is necessary to feed and clothe the steadily112 increasing swarms113 of mechanics who drive, and keep in repair, and add to, that elaborate machinery by means of which the Sovereign People is cajoled into the belief that its Will prevails. From the point of view of the orthodox political economist114 these workers are as unproductive as actors, bookmakers, or golf professionals; but they have to be paid, otherwise they would starve, and the machines would stop. So long as there are plenty of rich men who desire to become even richer, or to decorate their names with titles, or to move in shining circles, this is not at all likely to occur, unless the Party System {219} suddenly collapsed115, in which case there would be acute distress116.
There are various grades of these artisans or mechanicians of politics, from the professional organiser or agent who, upon the whole, is no more open to criticism than any other class of mankind which works honestly for its living—down to the committee-man who has no use for a candidate unless he keeps a table from which large crumbs117 fall in profusion118. The man who supplements his income by means of politics is a greater danger than the other who openly makes politics his vocation119. The jobbing printer, enthusiastically pacifist or protectionist, well paid for his hand-bills, and aspiring120 to more substantial contracts; the smart, ingratiating organiser, or hustling121, bustling122 journalist, who receives a complimentary123 cheque, or a bundle of scrip, or a seat on a board of directors from the patron whom he has helped to win an election—very much as at ill-regulated shooting parties the head-keeper receives exorbitant124 tips from wealthy sportsmen whom he has placed to their satisfaction—all these are deeply interested in the preservation125 of the Party System. Innocent folk are often heard wondering why candidates with such strange names—even stranger appearance—accents and manner of speech which are strangest of all—are brought forward so frequently to woo the suffrages126 of urban constituencies. Clearly they are not chosen on account of their political knowledge; for they have none. There are other aspirants127 to political honours who, in comeliness128 and charm of manner, greatly excel them; whose speech is more eloquent129, or at any rate less unintelligible130. Yet London caucuses131 in particular have {220} a great tenderness for these bejewelled patriots133, and presumably there must be reasons for the preference which they receive. One imagines that in some inscrutable way they are essential props134 of the Party System in its modern phase.
The drawing together of the world by steam and electricity has brought conspicuous135 benefits to the British Empire. The five self-governing nations of which it is composed come closer together year by year. Statesmen and politicians broaden the horizons of their minds by swift and easy travel. But there are drawbacks as well as the reverse under these new conditions. To some extent the personnel of democracy has tended to become interchangeable, like the parts of a bicycle; and public characters are able to transfer their activities from one state to another, and even from one hemisphere to another, without a great deal of difficulty. This has certain advantages, but possibly more from the point of view of the individual than from that of the Commonwealth. After failure in one sphere there is still hope in another. Mr. Micawber, or even Jeremy Diddler, may go the round, using up public confidence at one resting-place after another. For the Party System is a ready employer, and providing a man has a glib136 tongue, a forehead of brass137, or an open purse, a position will be found for him without too much enquiry made into his previous references.
LAWYERISM AND LEADERSHIP
In a world filled with confusion and illusion the Party System has fought at great advantage. Indeed it is generally believed to be so firmly entrenched138 that nothing can ever dislodge it. There are dangers, however, in arguing too confidently from use and wont139. Conspicuous failure or disaster might bring {221} ruin on this revered140 institution, as it has often done in history upon others no less venerable. The Party System has its weak side. Its wares141 are mainly make-believes, and if a hurricane happens to burst suddenly, the caucus132 may be left in no better plight142 than Alnaschar with his overturned basket. The Party System is not invulnerable against a great man or a great idea. But of recent years it has been left at peace to go its own way, for the reason that no such man or idea has emerged, around which the English people have felt that they could cluster confidently. There has been no core on which human crystals could precipitate143 and attach themselves, following the bent of their nature towards a firm and clear belief—or towards the prowess of a man—or towards a Man possessed144 by a Belief. The typical party leader during this epoch has neither been a man in the heroic sense, nor has he had any belief that could be called firm or clear. For the most part he has been merely a Whig or Tory tradesman, dealing145 in opportunism; and for the predominance of the Party System this set of conditions was almost ideal. It was inconceivable that a policy of wait-and-see could ever resolve a situation of this sort. To fall back on lawyerism was perhaps inevitable in the circumstances; but to think that it was possible to substitute lawyerism for leadership was absurd.
And yet amid this confusion we were aware—even at the time—and can see much more clearly now the interlude is ended—that there were three great ideas running through it all, struggling to emerge, to make themselves understood, and to get themselves realised. But unfortunately what were realities to ordinary men were only counters according {222} to the reckoning of the party mechanicians. The first aim and the second—the improvement of the organisation of society and the conditions of the poor—the freeing of local aspirations and the knitting together of the empire—were held in common by the great mass of the British people, although they were viewed by one section and another from different angles of vision. The third aim, however—the adequate defence of the empire—was not regarded warmly, or even with much active interest, by any organised section. The people who considered it most earnestly were not engaged in party politics. The manipulators of the machines looked upon the first and the second as means whereby power might be gained or retained, but they looked askance upon the third as a perilous146 problem which it was wiser and safer to leave alone. The great principles with which the names—among others—of Mr. Chamberlain, Lord Roberts, and Mr. Lloyd George are associated, were at no point opposed one to another. Each indeed was dependent upon the other two for its full realisation. And yet, under the artificial entanglements147 of the Party System, the vigorous pursuit of any one of the three seemed to imperil the success of both its competitors.
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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descending
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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formerly
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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hind
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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precluded
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| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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heinous
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placidly
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contentedly
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tremor
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potency
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engrossed
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consolidation
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insufficient
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heed
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dominions
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aggression
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fructify
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prosper
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well-being
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chamber
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franchise
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concise
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apparently
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briefly
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radicals
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organisation
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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stimulate
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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46
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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47
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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48
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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49
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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50
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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51
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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52
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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53
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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54
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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55
paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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56
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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57
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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58
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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59
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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60
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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61
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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62
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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63
piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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64
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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65
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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66
abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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67
depreciated
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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68
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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69
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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70
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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71
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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72
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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73
fluctuations
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| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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74
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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75
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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76
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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77
discriminate
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| v.区别，辨别，区分；有区别地对待 | |
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78
truthfulness
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| n. 符合实际 | |
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79
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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80
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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81
optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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82
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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83
pessimist
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| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
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84
abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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85
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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86
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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87
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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88
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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89
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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90
antagonisms
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| 对抗，敌对( antagonism的名词复数 ) | |
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91
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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92
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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93
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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94
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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95
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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96
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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97
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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98
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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99
federation
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| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
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100
deteriorated
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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102
nominees
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| n.被提名者，被任命者( nominee的名词复数 ) | |
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103
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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104
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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105
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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106
disparaging
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| adj.轻蔑的，毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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107
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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108
pedantry
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| n.迂腐，卖弄学问 | |
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109
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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110
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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111
versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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112
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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113
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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114
economist
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| n.经济学家，经济专家，节俭的人 | |
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115
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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116
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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117
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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118
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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119
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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120
aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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121
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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122
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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123
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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124
exorbitant
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| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
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125
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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126
suffrages
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| （政治性选举的）选举权，投票权( suffrage的名词复数 ) | |
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127
aspirants
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| n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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128
comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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129
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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130
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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131
caucuses
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| n.（政党决定政策或推举竞选人的）核心成员( caucus的名词复数 )；决策干部；决策委员会；秘密会议 | |
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132
caucus
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| n.秘密会议；干部会议；v.（参加）干部开会议 | |
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133
patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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134
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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135
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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136
glib
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| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
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137
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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138
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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139
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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140
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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142
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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143
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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144
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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145
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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146
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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147
entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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