The subject of Greek philosophy is so vast that, in England at least, it has become customary to deal with it in detached portions rather than as a connected whole. This method has its advantages, but it has also its drawbacks. The critic who singles out some one thinker for special study is apt to exaggerate the importance of his hero and to credit him with the origination of principles which were really borrowed from his predecessors1. Moreover, the appearance of a new idea can only be made intelligible2 by tracing the previous tendencies which it either continues, combines, or contradicts. In a word, the history of philosophy has itself a philosophy which requires that we should go beyond particular phenomena3 and view them as variously related parts of a single system.
The history of Greek philosophy, whether conceived in this comprehensive sense or as an erudite investigation4 into matters of detail, is a province which the Germans have made peculiarly their own; and, among German scholars, Dr. Zeller is the one who has treated it with most success. My obligations to his great work are sufficiently5 shown by the copious6 references to it which occur throughout the following pages. It is in those instances—and they are, unfortunately, very numerous—where our knowledge of particular philosophers and of their opinions rests on fragmentary or second-hand7 information, that I have found his assistance most valuable. This has especially been the case with reference to the pre-Socratic schools, the minor8 successors of Socrates, the earlier Stoics9, the Sceptics, and the later Pythagoreans. I must, however, guard against the supposition that my work is, in any respect, a popularisation or abridgment11 of Zeller’s. To popularise Zeller would, indeed, be an impertinence, for nothing can be more luminous12 and interesting than his style and general mode of exposition. Nor am I playing the part of a finder to a large telescope; for my point of view by no means coincides with that of the learned German historian. Thus, while my limits have obliged me to be content with a very summary treatment of many topics which he has discussed at length, there are others, and those, in my opinion, not the least important, to which he has given less space than will be found allotted13 to them here. On several questions, also, I have ventured to controvert14 his opinions, notably15 with reference to the Sophists, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plotinus. My general way of looking at the Greeks and their philosophy also differs from his. And the reasons which have led me to follow an independent course in this respect involve considerixations of such interest and importance, that I shall take the liberty of specifying16 them in some detail.
Stated briefly17, Zeller’s theory of ancient thought is that the Greeks originally lived in harmony with Nature; that the bond was broken by philosophy and particularly by the philosophy of Socrates; that the discord18 imperfectly overcome by Plato and Aristotle revealed itself once more in the unreconciled, self-concentrated subjectivity20 of the later schools; that this hopeless estrangement21, after reaching its climax22 in the mysticism of the Neo-Platonists, led to the complete collapse23 of independent speculation24; and that the creation of a new consciousness by the advent25 of Christianity and of the Germanic races was necessary in order to the successful resumption of scientific enquiry. Zeller was formerly27 a Hegelian, and it seems to me that he still retains far too much of the Hegelian formalism in his historical constructions. The well-worked antithesis28 between object and subject, even after being revised in a positivist sense, is totally inadequate29 to the burden laid on it by this theory; and if we want really to understand the causes which first hampered30, then arrested, and finally paralysed Greek philosophy, we must seek for them in a more concrete order of considerations. Zeller, with perfect justice, attributes the failure of Plato and Aristotle to their defective31 observation of Nature and their habit of regarding the logical combinations of ideas derived33 from the common use of words as an adequate representative of the relations obtaining among things in themselves. But it seems an extremely strained and artificial explanation to say that their shortcomings in this respect were due to a confusion of the objective and the subjective34, consequent on the imperfect separation of the Greek mind from Nature—a confusion, it isx added, which only the advent of a new religion and a new race could overcome.1 It is unfair to make Hellenism as a whole responsible for fallacies which might easily be paralleled in the works of modern metaphysicians; and the unfairness will become still more evident when we remember that, after enjoying the benefit of Christianity and Germanism for a thousand years, the modern world had still to take its first lessons in patience of observation, in accuracy of reasoning, and in sobriety of expression from such men as Thucydides and Hippocrates, Polybius, Archimêdes and Hipparchus. Even had the Greeks as a nation been less keen to distinguish between illusion and reality than their successors up to the sixteenth century—a supposition notoriously the reverse of true—it would still have to be explained why Plato and Aristotle, with their prodigious35 intellects, went much further astray than their predecessors in the study of Nature. And this Zeller’s method does not explain at all.
Again, I think that Zeller quite misconceives the relation between Greek philosophy and Greek life when he attributes the intellectual decline of the post-Aristotelian period, in part at least, to the simultaneous ruin of public spirit and political independence. The degeneracy of poetry and art, of eloquence37 and history, may perhaps be accounted for in this way, but not the relaxation38 of philosophical39 activity. On the contrary, the disappearance40 of political interests was of all conditions the most favourable41 to speculation, as witness the Ionians, Democritus, and Aristotle. Had the independence and power of the great city-republics been prolonged much further, it is probable—as the example of the Sophists and Socrates seems to show—that philosophy would have becomexi still more absorbingly moral and practical than it actually became in the Stoic10, Epicurean, and Sceptical schools. And theoretical studies did, in fact, receive a great impulse from the Macedonian conquest, a large fund of intellectual energy being diverted from public affairs to the pursuit of knowledge, only it took the direction of positive science rather than of general speculation.2
The cause which first arrested and finally destroyed the free movement of Greek thought was not any intrinsic limitation or corruption42 of the Greek genius, but the ever-increasing preponderance of two interests, both tending, although in different ways and different degrees, to strengthen the principle of authority and to enfeeble the principle of reason. One was the theological interest, the other was the scholastic43 interest. The former was the more conspicuous44 and the more mischievous45 of the two. From the persecution46 of Anaxagoras to the prohibition47 of philosophical teaching by Justinian, we may trace the rise and spread of a reaction towards superstition48, sometimes advancing and sometimes receding49, but, on the whole, gaining ground from age to age, until from the noontide splendour of Pericles we pass to that long night which stretches in almost impenetrable darkness down to the red and stormy daybreak of the Crusades. And it was a reaction which extended through all classes, including the philosophers themselves. It seems to me that where the Athenian school, from Socrates on, fall short of their predecessors, as in some points they unquestionably do, their inferiority is largely due to this cause. Its influence is very perceptible in weakening the speculative50 energies of thosexii who stand at the greatest distance from the popular beliefs. It was because dislike for theology occupied so large a place in the thoughts of Epicurus and his disciples51, that they valued science only as a refutation of its teaching, instead of regarding it simply as an obstacle to be removed from the path of enquiry. More than this; they became infected with the spirit of that against which they fought, and their absolute indifference52 to truth was the shadow which it cast on their minds.
The theological interest and the scholastic interest, though not necessarily associated, have, as already observed, a point of contact in their common exaltation of authority. Thus, for our present purpose they may be classified under the more general notion of traditionalism. By this term I understand a disposition53 to accept as true opinions received either by the mass of mankind or by the best accredited54 teachers, and to throw these opinions into a form adapted for easy transmission to others. In this sense, traditionalism is Janus-faced, looking on one side to the past and on the other to the future. Now philosophy could only gain general acceptance by becoming a tradition. For a long time the Greek thinkers busied themselves almost exclusively with the discovery of truth, remaining comparatively indifferent to its diffusion55. As Plato says, they went their own way without caring whether they took us along with them or not.3 And it was at this period that the most valuable speculative ideas were first originated. At last a strong desire arose among the higher classes to profit by the results of the new learning, and a class of men came into existence whose profession was to gratify this desire. But the Sophists, as they were called,xiii soon found that lessons in the art of life were more highly appreciated and more liberally rewarded than lessons in the constitution of Nature. Accordingly, with the facile ingenuity56 of Greeks, they set to work proving, first that Nature could not be known, and finally that there was no such thing as Nature at all. The real philosophers were driven to secure their position by a change of front. They became teachers themselves, disguising their lessons, however, under the form of a search after truth undertaken conjointly with their friends, who, of course, were not expected to pay for the privilege of giving their assistance, and giving it for so admirable a purpose. In this co-operative system, the person who led the conversation was particularly careful to show that his conclusions followed directly from the admissions of his interlocutors, being, so to speak, latent in their minds, and only needing a little obstetric assistance on his part to bring them into the light of day. And the better to rivet57 their attention, he chose for the subject of discussion questions of human interest, or else, when the conversation turned to physical phenomena, he led the way towards a teleological58 or aesthetical interpretation59 of their meaning.
Thus, where Zeller says that the Greek philosophers confounded the objective with the subjective because they were still imperfectly separated from Nature, we seem to have come on a less ambitious but more intelligible explanation of the facts, and one capable of being stated with as much generality as his. Not only among the Greeks but everywhere, culture is more or less antagonistic60 to originality61, and the diffusion to the enlargement of knowledge. Thought is like water; when spread over a wider surface it is apt to become stagnant62 and shallow. When ideas could only live on the condition ofxiv being communicated to a large circle of listeners, they were necessarily adapted to the taste and lowered to the comprehension of relatively63 vulgar minds. And not only so, but the habit of taking their opinions and prejudices as the starting-point of every enquiry frequently led to the investment of those opinions and prejudices with the formal sanction of a philosophical demonstration64. It was held that education consisted less in the acquisition of new truth than in the elevation65 to clearer consciousness of truths which had all along been dimly perceived.
To the criticism and systematisation of common language and common opinion succeeded the more laborious66 criticism and systematisation of philosophical theories. Such an enormous amount of labour was demanded for the task of working up the materials amassed67 by Greek thought during the period of its creative originality, and accommodating them to the popular belief, that not much could be done in the way of adding to their extent. Nor was this all. Among the most valuable ideas of the earlier thinkers were those which stood in most striking opposition68 to the evidence of the senses. As such they were excluded from the system which had for its object the reorganisation of philosophy on the basis of general consent. Thus not only did thought tend to become stationary69, but it even abandoned some of the ground which had been formerly won.
Not that the vitality70 of Hellenic reason gave way simultaneously71 at every point. The same independent spirit, the same imaginative vigour72 which had carried physical speculation to such splendid conquests during the first two centuries of its existence were manifested with equal effect when the energies previously73 devoted74 to Nature as a whole concentratedxv themselves on the study of conduct and belief. It was thus that Socrates could claim the whole field of human life for scientific treatment, and create the method by which it has ever since been most successfully studied. It was thus that Plato could analyse and ideally reconstruct all practices, institutions, and beliefs. It was thus that Aristotle, while definitely arresting the progress of research, could still complete the method and create the language through which the results of new research have been established, recognised, and communicated ever since. It was thus that the Stoics advanced from paradox76 to paradox until they succeeded in co-ordinating morality for all time by reference to the three fundamental ideas of personal conscience, individual obligation, and universal humanity. And not only were dialectics and ethics77 at first animated78 by the same enterprising spirit as speculative physics, but their very existence as recognised studies must be ascribed to its decay, to the revolution through which philosophy, from being purely79 theoretical, became social and didactic. While in some directions thought was made stationary and even retrogressive by the very process of its diffusion, in other directions this diffusion was the cause of its more complete development. Finally, ethics and logic32 were reduced to a scholastic routine, and progress continued to be made only in the positive sciences, until, here also, it was brought to an end by the triumph of superstition and barbarism combined.
If the cessation of speculative activity among the Greeks needs to be accounted for by something more definite than phrases about the objective and the subjective, so also does its resumption among the nations of modern Europe. This may be explained by two different circumstances—the disapxvipearance of the obstacles which had long opposed themselves to the free exercise of reason, and the stimulus80 given to enquiry by the Copernican astronomy. After spreading over the whole basin of the Mediterranean81, Hellenic culture had next to repair the ravages82 of the barbarians83, and, chiefly under the form of Christianity, to make itself accepted by the new nationalities which had risen on the ruins of the Roman empire. So arduous84 a task was sufficient to engross85, during many centuries, the entire intellectual energies of Western Europe. At last the extreme limits of diffusion were provisionally reached, and thought once more became available for the discovery of new truth. Simultaneously with this consummation, the great supernaturalist reaction, having also reached its extreme limits, had so far subsided86, that Nature could once more be studied on scientific principles, with less freedom, indeed, than in old Ionia, but still with tolerable security against the vengeance87 of interested or fanatical opponents. And at the very same conjuncture it was shown by the accumulated observations of many ages that the conception of the universe on which the accepted philosophy rested must be replaced by one of a directly opposite description. I must confess that in this vast revolution the relation between the objective and the subjective, as reconstituted by Christianity and the Germanic genius, does not seem to me to have played a very prominent part.
If Zeller’s semi-Hegelian theory of history does scant88 justice to the variety and complexity89 of causes determining the evolution of philosophy, it also draws away attention from the ultimate elements, the matter, in an Aristotelian sense, of which that evolution consists. By this I mean the development of particular ideas as distinguished90 from thexvii systems into which they enter as component91 parts. Often the formation of a system depends on an accidental combination of circumstances, and therefore cannot be brought under any particular law of progress, while the ideas out of which it is constructed exhibit a perfectly19 regular advance on the form under which they last appeared. Others, again, are characterised by a remarkable92 fixity which enables them to persist unchanged through the most varied93 combinations and the most protracted94 intervals95 of time. But when each system is regarded as, so to speak, an organic individual, the complete and harmonious96 expression of some one phase of thought, and the entire series of systems as succeeding one another in strict logical order according to some simple law of evolution, there will be a certain tendency to regard the particular elements of each as determined97 by the character of the whole to which they belong, rather than by their intrinsic nature and antecedent history. And I think it is owing to this limitation of view that Zeller has not illustrated98, so fully75 as could be desired, the subtler references by which the different schools of philosophy are connected with one another and also with the literature of their own and other times.
An interesting example of the process on which I have just touched is offered by the reappearance and further elaboration of some most important Greek ideas in modern philosophy. In the concluding chapter of this work I have attempted to indicate the chief lines along which such a transmission may be traced. The subject is one which has hitherto been unduly99 neglected. No critic would be justified100 in describing the speculative movement of the nineteenth century without constant reference to the metaphysicians andxviii moralists of the two preceding centuries. Yet the dependence36 of those thinkers on the schools of antiquity101 is hardly less intimate than our dependence on Spinoza and Hume. Nevertheless, in no work that I am acquainted with has this circumstance been used to elucidate102 the course pursued by modern thought; indeed, I may say that the persistence103 of Hellenic ideas down to the most recent times has not been fully recognised by any scholar except Prof. Teichmüller, who has particularly devoted his attention to the history of conceptions as distinguished from the history of systems.
The introduction of Teichmüller’s name affords me an opportunity for mentioning that my attention was not directed to his brilliant researches into various questions connected with Greek philosophy, and more particularly with the systems of Plato and Aristotle, until it was too late for me to profit by them in the present work. I allude105 more particularly to his Studien zur Geschichte der Begriffe (Berlin, 1874), and to his recently published Literarische Fehden im vierten Jahrhundert vor Chr. (Breslau, 1881). The chief points of the former work are, that Plato was really a pantheist or monist, not, as is commonly believed and as I have myself taken for granted, a dualist; that, as a consequence of the suppression of individuality which characterises his system, he did not really accept or teach the doctrine106 of personal immortality107, although he wished that the mass of the people should believe it; that Plato no more attributed a transcendent existence to his ideas than did Aristotle to his substantial forms; and that in putting an opposite interpretation on his old master’s theory, Aristotle is guilty of gross misrepresentation. The most important point of the Literarische Fehden is that Aristotle published his Ethicsxix while Plato was still alive and engaged in the composition of his Laws, and that certain passages in the latter work, of which one relates to free-will and the other to the unity104 of virtue108 (861, A ff. and 962 ff.) were intended as a reply to Aristotle’s well-known criticisms on the Platonic109 theory of ethics.
I have been necessarily brief in my statement of Teichmüller’s theses; and to judge of them apart from the facts and arguments by which they are supported in the two very interesting volumes above named would be in the highest degree unfair. I feel bound, however, to mention the chief reasons which make me hesitate to accept his conclusions. It seems to me, then, that although Plato was moving in the direction of pantheism—as I have myself pointed110 out in more than one passage of this work—he never actually reached it. For (i.) he does not, like Plotinus, attempt to deduce his material from his ideal principle, but only blends without reconciling them in the world of sensible experience. (ii.) In opposing the perishable111 nature of the individual (or rather the particular) to the eternal nature of the universal, he is going on the facts of experience rather than on any necessary opposition between the two, and on experience of material or sensible objects rather than of immaterial souls; while, even as regards material objects, the heavenly bodies, to which he attributes everlasting112 duration, constitute such a sweeping113 exception to his rule as entirely114 to destroy its applicability. (iii.) Plato’s multiplied and elaborate arguments for the immortality of the soul would be superfluous115 were his only object to prove that the soul, like everything else, contains an eternal element. (iv.) The Pythagorean theory that the soul is a harmony, which Plato rejects, wouldxx have been perfectly compatible with the ideal and impersonal116 immortality which Teichmüller supposes him to have taught; for while the particular harmony perishes, the general laws of harmony remain. (v.) Teichmüller does not dispose satisfactorily of Plato’s crowning argument that the idea of life is as inseparable from the soul as heat from fire or cold from snow. He says (op. cit., p. 134) that, on this principle, the individual soul may still perish, just as particular portions of fire are extinguished and particular portions of snow are melted. Yes, but portions of fire do not grow cold, nor portions of snow hot, which and which alone would offer an analogy to the extinction117 of a soul.
I agree, however, with Teichmüller that the doctrines118 of reminiscence and metempsychosis have a purely mythical119 significance, and I should have expressed my views on the subject with more definiteness and decision had I known that his authority might be quoted in their support. I think that Plato was in a transition state from the Oriental to what afterwards became the Christian26 theory of retribution. In the one he found an allegorical illustration of his metaphysics, in the other a very serious sanction for his ethics. He felt their incompatibility120, but was not prepared to undertake such a complete reconstruction121 of his system as would have been necessitated122 by altogether denying the pre-existence of the soul. Of such vacillation123 Plato’s later Dialogues offer, I think, sufficient evidence. For example, the Matter of the Timacus seems to be a revised version of the Other or principle of division and change, which has already figured as a pure idea, in which capacity it must necessarily be opposed to matter. At the same time, I must observe that, from my point of view, it is enough if Plato inculcated the doctrine of a future life asxxi an important element of his religious system. And that he did so inculcate it Teichmüller fully admits.4
With regard to the Nicomachean Ethics, I think Teichmüller has proved this much, that it was written before Aristotle had read the Laws or knew of its existence. But this does not prove that he wrote it during Plato’s lifetime, since the Laws was not published until after Plato’s death, possibly not until several years after. And, published or not, Aristotle may very well have remained ignorant of its existence until his return to Athens, which, according to the tradition, took place about 336 B.C. Teichmüller does, indeed, suppose that Aristotle spent some time in Athens between his flight from Mitylênê and his engagement as tutor to Alexander (Literarische Fehden, p. 261). But this theory, besides its purely conjectural124 character, would still allow the possibility of Aristotle’s having remained unacquainted with the Laws up to the age of forty. And it is obvious that the passages which Teichmüller interprets as replies to Aristotle’s criticisms admit of more than one alternative explanation. They may have originated in doubts and difficulties which spontaneously suggested themselves to Plato in the course of his independent reflections; or, granting that there is a polemic125 reference, it may have been provoked by some other critic, or by the spoken criticisms of Aristotle himself. For the supposition that Aristotle wrote his Ethics at the early age of thirty-two or thirty-three seems to me so improbable that we should not accept it except under pressure of the strongest evidence. That a work of such matured thought and observation should have been produced by so young a man is, so far as I know, a phenomenon unparalleled in thexxii history of literature. And to this we must add the further circumstance that the Greek mind was not particularly remarkable for precocity126 in any field except war and statesmanship. We do, indeed, find instances of comparatively juvenile127 authorship, but none, I believe, of a Greek writer, whether poet, historian, or philosopher, who reached the full maturity128 of his powers before a considerably129 advanced period of middle age. That the Ethics is very imperfect I fully admit, and have expressly maintained against its numerous admirers in the course of this work. But, although imperfect, it is not crude. It contains as good a discussion of the subject undertaken as Aristotle was ever capable of giving, and its limitations are not those of an unripe130 intellect, but of an intellect at all times comparatively unsuited for the treatment of practical problems, and narrowed still further by the requirements of an elaborate speculative system. Now to work out this system must have demanded considerably more labour and independent thought than one can suppose even an Aristotle to have found time for before thirty-three; while the experience of life shown in the Ethics is such as study, so far from supplying, would, on the contrary, have delayed. Moreover, the Rhetoric131, which was confessedly written before the Ethics, exhibits the same qualities in about an equal degree, and therefore, on Teichmüller’s theory, testifies to a still more extraordinary precocity. And there is the further circumstance that while Aristotle is known to have begun his public career as a teacher of rhetoric, his earliest productions seem to have been of a rather diffuse132 and declamatory character, quite opposed to the severe concision133 which marks the style both of the Rhetoric and of the Ethics. In addition to these general considerations, one may mention that in axxiii well-known passage of the Ethics, referring to a question of logical method (I., iv.), Plato is spoken of in the imperfect tense, which would seem to imply that he was no longer living when it was written. Speaking from memory, I should even be inclined to doubt whether the mention of a living writer by name at all is consistent with Aristotle’s standard of literary etiquette134.
These are difficulties which Teichmüller has, no doubt, fully weighed and put aside as not sufficiently strong to invalidate his conclusions. I have stated them in order to show that enough can be said for the old view to justify135 the republication of what was written on the assumption of its unquestionable truth. Moreover, researches conducted with so much skill and learning as those of Teichmüller demand some public acknowledgment in a work like the present, even when the results are such that the writer cannot see his way to accepting them as satisfactorily made out. There are many English scholars more competent than I am to discuss the whole question at issue. Perhaps these lines may induce some of them to give it the attention which it merits, but which, in England at least, it does not seem to have as yet received.
My obligations to other writers have been acknowledged throughout this work, so far as I was conscious of them, and so far as they could be defined by reference to specific points. I take the present opportunity for mentioning in a more general way the valuable assistance which I have derived from Schwegler’s Geschichte der Griechischen Philosophie, Lange’s Geschichte des Materialismus, and Dühring’s Geschichte der Philosophie. The parallel between Socrates, Giordano Bruno, and Spinoza was probably suggested to mexxiv by Dühring, as also were some points in my characterisation of Aristotle. As my view of the position occupied by Lucretius with respect to religion and philosophy differs in many important points from that of Prof. Sellar, it is the more incumbent136 on me to state that, but for a perusal137 of Prof. Sellar’s eloquent138 and sympathetic chapters on the great Epicurean poet, my own estimate of his genius would certainly not have been written in its present form and would probably not have been written at all.
On the whole, I am afraid that my acquaintance with the modern literature of the subject will be found rather limited for an undertaking139 like the present. But I do not think that wider reading in that direction would have much furthered the object I had in view. That object has been to exhibit the principal ideas of Greek philosophy in the closest possible connexion with the characters of their authors, with each other, with their developments in modern speculation, with the parallel tendencies of literature and art, with the history of religion, of physical science, and of civilisation140 as a whole. To interpret all things by a system of universal references is the method of philosophy; when applied141 to a series of events this method is the philosophy of history; when the events are ideas, it is the philosophy of philosophy itself.
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predecessors
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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stoics
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| 禁欲主义者，恬淡寡欲的人，不以苦乐为意的人( stoic的名词复数 ) | |
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stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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abridgment
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| n.删节，节本 | |
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luminous
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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controvert
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| v.否定；否认 | |
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notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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specifying
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briefly
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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subjectivity
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| n.主观性（主观主义） | |
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estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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climax
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collapse
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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advent
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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formerly
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antithesis
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inadequate
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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32
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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33
derived
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| 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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subjective
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| a.主观(上)的，个人的 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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37
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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38
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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40
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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41
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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43
scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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44
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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45
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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46
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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47
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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48
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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49
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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50
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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51
disciples
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| 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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52
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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53
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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54
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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55
diffusion
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| n.流布；普及；散漫 | |
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56
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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57
rivet
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| n.铆钉；vt.铆接，铆牢；集中(目光或注意力) | |
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58
teleological
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| adj.目的论的 | |
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59
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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60
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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61
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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67
amassed
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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70
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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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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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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83
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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84
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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85
engross
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| v.使全神贯注 | |
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86
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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87
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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88
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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90
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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94
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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intervals
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| 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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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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98
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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101
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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102
elucidate
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| v.阐明，说明 | |
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103
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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104
unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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105
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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106
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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107
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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108
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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109
platonic
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| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
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110
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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111
perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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112
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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113
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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114
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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115
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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116
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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117
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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118
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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119
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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120
incompatibility
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| n.不兼容 | |
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121
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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122
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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124
conjectural
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| adj.推测的 | |
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125
polemic
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| n.争论，论战 | |
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126
precocity
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| n.早熟，早成 | |
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127
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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128
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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129
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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130
unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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131
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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132
diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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133
concision
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| n.简明，简洁 | |
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134
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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135
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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136
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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137
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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138
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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139
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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140
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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141
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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