In studying the growth of philosophy as an historical evolution, repetitions and anticipations1 must necessarily be of frequent occurrence. Ideas meet us at every step which can only be appreciated when we trace out their later developments, or only understood when we refer them back to earlier and half-forgotten modes of thought. The speculative2 tissue is woven out of filaments3 so delicate and so complicated that it is almost impossible to say where one begins and the other ends. Even conceptions which seem to have been transmitted without alteration4 are constantly acquiring a new value according to the connexions into which they enter or the circumstances to which they are applied5. But if the method of evolution, with its two great principles of continuity and relativity, substitutes a maze6 of intricate lines, often returning on themselves, for the straight path along which progress was once supposed to move, we are more than compensated7 by the new sense of coherence8 and rationality where illusion and extravagance once seemed to reign9 supreme10. It teaches us that the dreams of a great intellect may be better worth our attention than the waking perceptions of ordinary men. Combining fragments of the old order with rudimentary outlines of the new, they lay open the secret laboratory of spiritual chemistry, and help to bridge over the interval12 separating the most widely contrasted phases of life and thought. Moreover, when we have once accustomed ourselves to break up past systems of philosophy172 into their component13 elements, when we see how heterogeneous14 and ill-cemented were the parts of this and that proud edifice15 once offered as the only possible shelter against dangers threatening the very existence of civilisation16—we shall be prepared for the application of a similar method to contemporary systems of equally ambitious pretensions17; distinguishing that which is vital, fruitful, original, and progressive in their ideal synthesis from that which is of merely provisional and temporary value, when it is not the literary resuscitation19 of a dead past, visionary, retrograde, and mischievously20 wrong. And we shall also be reminded that the most precious ideas have only been shaped, preserved, and transmitted through association with earthy and perishable21 ingredients. The function of true criticism is, like Robert Browning’s Roman jeweller, to turn on them ‘the proper fiery22 acid’ of purifying analysis which dissolves away the inferior metal and leaves behind the gold ring whereby thought and action are inseparably and fruitfully united.
Such, as it seems to us, is the proper spirit in which we should approach the great thinker whose works are to occupy us in this and the succeeding chapter. No philosopher has ever offered so extended and vulnerable a front to hostile criticism. None has so habitually24 provoked reprisals25 by his own incessant26 and searching attacks on all existing professions, customs, and beliefs. It might even be maintained that none has used the weapons of controversy27 with more unscrupulous zeal28. And it might be added that he who dwells so much on the importance of consistency29 has occasionally denounced and ridiculed30 the very principles which he elsewhere upholds as demonstrated truths. It was an easy matter for others to complete the work of destruction which he had begun. His system seems at first sight to be made up of assertions, one more outrageous33 than another. The ascription of an objective concrete separate reality to verbal abstractions is assuredly the most astounding34 paradox35 ever173 maintained even by a metaphysician. Yet this is the central article of Plato’s creed36. That body is essentially37 different from extension might, one would suppose, have been sufficiently38 clear to a mathematician39 who had the advantage of coming after Leucippus and Democritus. Their identity is implicitly40 affirmed in the Timaeus. That the soul cannot be both created and eternal; that the doctrine41 of metempsychosis is incompatible42 with the hereditary43 transmission of mental qualities; that a future immortality44 equivalent to, and proved by the same arguments as, our antenatal existence, would be neither a terror to the guilty nor a consolation45 to the righteous:—are propositions implicitly denied by Plato’s psychology46. Passing from theoretical to practical philosophy, it might be observed that respect for human life, respect for individual property, respect for marriage, and respect for truthfulness47, are generally numbered among the strongest moral obligations, and those the observance of which most completely distinguishes civilised from savage48 man; while infanticide, communism, promiscuity49, and the occasional employment of deliberate deceit, form part of Plato’s scheme for the redemption of mankind. We need not do more than allude50 to those Dialogues where the phases and symptoms of unnameable passion are delineated with matchless eloquence51, and apparently52 with at least as much sympathy as censure53. Finally, from the standpoint of modern science, it might be urged that Plato used all his powerful influence to throw back physical speculation54 into the theological stage; that he deliberately56 discredited57 the doctrine of mechanical causation which, for us, is the most important achievement of early Greek thought; that he expatiated58 on the criminal folly59 of those who held the heavenly bodies to be, what we now know them to be, masses of dead matter with no special divinity about them; and that he proposed to punish this and other heresies60 with a severity distinguishable from the fitful fanaticism61 of his native city only by its more disciplined and rigorous application.
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A plain man might find it difficult to understand how such extravagances could be deliberately propounded62 by the greatest intellect that Athens ever produced, except on the principle, dear to mediocrity, that genius is but little removed from madness, and that philosophical63 genius resembles it more nearly than any other. And his surprise would become much greater on learning that the best and wisest men of all ages have looked up with reverence64 to Plato; that thinkers of the most opposite schools have resorted to him for instruction and stimulation65; that his writings have never been more attentively66 studied than in our own age—an age which has witnessed the destruction of so many illusive67 reputations; and that the foremost of English educators has used all his influence to promote the better understanding and appreciation69 of Plato as a prime element in academic culture—an influence now extended far beyond the limits of his own university through that translation of the Platonic70 Dialogues which is too well known to need any commendation on our part, but which we may mention as one of the principal authorities used for the present study, together with the work of a German scholar, his obligations to whom Prof. Jowett has acknowledged with characteristic grace.114
As a set-off against the list of paradoxes71 cited from Plato, it would be easy to quote a still longer list of brilliant contributions to the cause of truth and right, to strike a balance between the two, and to show that there was a preponderance on the positive side sufficiently great to justify72 the favourable73 verdict of posterity74. We believe, however, that such a method would be as misleading as it is superficial. Neither Plato nor any other thinker of the same calibre—if any other there be—should be estimated by a simple analysis of his opinions. We must go back to the underlying75 forces of which individual175 opinions are the resultant and the revelation. Every systematic76 synthesis represents certain profound intellectual tendencies, derived77 partly from previous philosophies, partly from the social environment, partly from the thinker’s own genius and character. Each of such tendencies may be salutary and necessary, according to the conditions under which it comes into play, and yet two or more of them may form a highly unstable78 and explosive compound. Nevertheless, it is in speculative combinations that they are preserved and developed with the greatest distinctness, and it is there that we must seek for them if we would understand the psychological history of our race. And this is why we began by intimating that the lines of our investigation79 may take us back over ground which has been already traversed, and forward into regions which cannot at present be completely surveyed.
We have this great advantage in dealing80 with Plato—that his philosophical writings have come down to us entire, while the thinkers who preceded him are known only through fragments and second-hand81 reports. Nor is the difference merely accidental. Plato was the creator of speculative literature, properly so called: he was the first and also the greatest artist that ever clothed abstract thought in language of appropriate majesty82 and splendour; and it is probably to their beauty of form that we owe the preservation83 of his writings. Rather unfortunately, however, along with the genuine works of the master, a certain number of pieces have been handed down to us under his name, of which some are almost universally admitted to be spurious, while the authenticity84 of others is a question on which the best scholars are still divided. In the absence of any very cogent85 external evidence, an immense amount of industry and learning has been expended86 on this subject, and the arguments employed on both sides sometimes make us doubt whether the reasoning powers of philologists87 are better developed than, according to Plato, were those of mathematicians88 in his time. The176 two extreme positions are occupied by Grote, who accepts the whole Alexandrian canon, and Krohn, who admits nothing but the Republic;115 while much more serious critics, such as Schaarschmidt, reject along with a mass of worthless compositions several Dialogues almost equal in interest and importance to those whose authenticity has never been doubted. The great historian of Greece seems to have been rather undiscriminating both in his scepticism and in his belief; and the exclusive importance which he attributed to contemporary testimony89, or to what passed for such with him, may have unduly90 biassed91 his judgment92 in both directions. As it happens, the authority of the canon is much weaker than Grote imagined; but even granting his extreme contention93, our view of Plato’s philosophy would not be seriously affected94 by it, for the pieces which are rejected by all other critics have no speculative importance whatever. The case would be far different were we to agree with those who impugn95 the genuineness of the Parmenides, the Sophist, the Statesman, the Philêbus, and the Laws; for these compositions mark a new departure in Platonism amounting to a complete transformation96 of its fundamental principles, which indeed is one of the reasons why their authenticity has been denied. Apart, however, from the numerous evidences of Platonic authorship furnished by the Dialogues themselves, as well as by the indirect references to them in Aristotle’s writings, it seems utterly97 incredible that a thinker scarcely, if at all, inferior to the master himself—as the supposed imitator must assuredly have been—should have consented to let his reasonings pass current under a false name, and that, too, the name of one whose teaching he in some respects controverted98; while there is a further difficulty in assuming that his existence could pass unnoticed at a period marked by intense literary and philosophical activity. Readers who177 wish for fuller information on the subject will find in Zeller’s pages a careful and lucid99 digest of the whole controversy leading to a moderately conservative conclusion. Others will doubtless be content to accept Prof. Jowett’s verdict, that ‘on the whole not a sixteenth part of the writings which pass under the name of Plato, if we exclude the works rejected by the ancients themselves, can be fairly doubted by those who are willing to allow that a considerable change and growth may have taken place in his philosophy.’116 To which we may add that the Platonic dialogues, whether the work of one or more hands, and however widely differing among themselves, together represent a single phase of thought, and are appropriately studied as a connected series.
We have assumed in our last remark that it is possible to discover some sort of chronological100 order in the Platonic Dialogues, and to trace a certain progressive modification101 in the general tenor102 of their teaching from first to last. But here also the positive evidence is very scanty103, and a variety of conflicting theories have been propounded by eminent104 scholars. Where so much is left to conjecture105, the best that can be said for any hypothesis is that it explains the facts according to known laws of thought. It will be for the reader to judge whether our own attempt to trace the gradual evolution of Plato’s system satisfies this condition. In making it we shall take as a basis the arrangement adopted by Prof. Jowett, with some reservations hereafter to be specified106.
Before entering on our task, one more difficulty remains107 to be noticed. Plato, although the greatest master of prose composition that ever lived, and for his time a remarkably108 voluminous author, cherished a strong dislike for books, and even affected to regret that the art of writing had ever been invented. A man, he said, might amuse himself by putting down his ideas on paper, and might even find written178 memoranda109 useful for private reference, but the only instruction worth speaking of was conveyed by oral communication, which made it possible for objections unforeseen by the teacher to be freely urged and answered.117 Such had been the method of Socrates, and such was doubtless the practice of Plato himself whenever it was possible for him to set forth110 his philosophy by word of mouth. It has been supposed, for this reason, that the great writer did not take his own books in earnest, and wished them to be regarded as no more than the elegant recreations of a leisure hour, while his deeper and more serious thoughts were reserved for lectures and conversations, of which, beyond a few allusions111 in Aristotle, every record has perished. That such, however, was not the case, may be easily shown. In the first place it is evident, from the extreme pains taken by Plato to throw his philosophical expositions into conversational112 form, that he did not despair of providing a literary substitute for spoken dialogue. Secondly114, it is a strong confirmation115 of this theory that Aristotle, a personal friend and pupil of Plato during many years, should so frequently refer to the Dialogues as authoritative116 evidences of his master’s opinions on the most important topics. And, lastly, if it can be shown that the documents in question do actually embody117 a comprehensive and connected view of life and of the world, we shall feel satisfied that the oral teaching of Plato, had it been preserved, would not modify in any material degree the impression conveyed by his written compositions.
II.
There is a story that Plato used to thank the gods, in what some might consider a rather Pharisaic spirit, for having made him a human being instead of a brute118, a man instead of a woman, and a Greek instead of a barbarian119; but more than179 anything else for having permitted him to be born in the time of Socrates. It will be observed that all these blessings121 tended in one direction, the complete supremacy122 in his character of reason over impulse and sense. To assert, extend, and organise123 that supremacy was the object of his whole life. Such, indeed, had been the object of all his predecessors124, and such, stated generally, has been always and everywhere the object of philosophy; but none had pursued it so consciously before, and none has proclaimed it so enthusiastically since then. Now, although Plato could not have done this without a far wider range of knowledge and experience than Socrates had possessed125, it was only by virtue126 of the Socratic method that his other gifts and acquisitions could be turned to complete account; while, conversely, it was only when brought to bear upon these new materials that the full power of the method itself could be revealed. To be continually asking and answering questions; to elicit127 information from everybody on every subject worth knowing; and to elaborate the resulting mass of intellectual material into the most convenient form for practical application or for further transmission, was the secret of true wisdom with the sage128 of the market-place and the workshop. But the process of dialectic investigation as an end in itself, the intense personal interest of conversation with living men and women of all classes, the impatience129 for immediate130 and visible results, had gradually induced Socrates to restrict within far too narrow limits the sources whence his ideas were derived and the purposes to which they were applied. And the dialectic method itself could not but be checked in its internal development by this want of breadth and variety in the topics submitted to its grasp. Therefore the death of Socrates, however lamentable131 in its occasion, was an unmixed benefit to the cause for which he laboured, by arresting (as we must suppose it to have arrested) the popular and indiscriminate employment of his cross-examining method,180 liberating133 his ablest disciple134 from the ascendency of a revered135 master, and inducing him to reconsider the whole question of human knowledge and action from a remoter point of view. For, be it observed that Plato did not begin where Socrates had left off; he went back to the germinal point of the whole system, and proceeded to reconstruct it on new lines of his own. The loss of those whom we love habitually leads our thoughts back to the time of our first acquaintance with them, or, if these are ascertainable136, to the circumstances of their early life. In this manner Plato seems to have been at first occupied exclusively with the starting-point of his friend’s philosophy, and we know, from the narrative137 given in the Apologia, under what form he came to conceive it. We have attempted to show that the account alluded138 to cannot be entirely139 historical. Nevertheless it seems sufficiently clear that Socrates began with a conviction of his own ignorance, and that his efforts to improve others were prefaced by the extraction of a similar confession140 of ignorance on their part. It is also certain that through life he regarded the causes of physical phenomena141 as placed beyond the reach of human reason and reserved by the gods for their own exclusive cognisance, pointing, by way of proof, to the notorious differences of opinion prevalent among those who had meddled142 with such matters. Thus, his scepticism worked in two directions, but on the one side it was only provisional and on the other it was only partial. Plato began by combining the two. He maintained that human nescience is universal and necessary; that the gods had reserved all knowledge for themselves; and that the only wisdom left for men is a consciousness of their absolute ignorance. The Socratic starting-point gave the centre of his agnostic circle; the Socratic theology gave the distance at which it was described. Here we have to note two things—first, the breadth of generalisation which distinguishes the disciple from the master; and, secondly, the symptoms of a strong181 religious reaction against Greek humanism. Even before the end of the Peloponnesian War, evidence of this reaction had appeared, and the Bacchae of Euripides bears striking testimony to its gloomy and fanatical character. The last agony of Athens, the collapse143 of her power, and the subsequent period of oligarchic145 terrorism, must have given a stimulus146 to superstition147 like that which quite recently afflicted148 France with an epidemic149 of apparitions150 and pilgrimages almost too childish for belief. Plato followed the general movement, although on a much higher plane. While looking down with undisguised contempt on the immoral151 idolatry of his countrymen, he was equally opposed to the irreligion of the New Learning, and, had an opportunity been given him, he would, like the Reformers of the sixteenth century, have put down both with impartial153 severity. Nor was this the only analogy between his position and that of a Luther or a Calvin. Like them, and indeed like all great religious teachers, he exalted154 the Creator by enlarging on the nothingness of the creature; just as Christianity exhibits the holiness of God in contrast and correlation156 with the sinfulness of unregenerate hearts; just as to Pindar man’s life seemed but the fleeting157 shadow in a dream when compared with the beauty and strength and immortality of the Olympian divinities; so also did Plato deepen the gloom of human ignorance that he might bring out in dazzling relief the fulness of that knowledge which he had been taught to prize as a supreme ideal, but which, for that very reason, seemed proper to the highest existences alone. And we shall presently see how Plato also discovered a principle in man by virtue of which he could claim kindred with the supernatural, and elaborated a scheme of intellectual mediation158 by which the fallen spirit could be regenerated159 and made a partaker in the kingdom of speculative truth.
Yet if Plato’s theology, from its predominantly rational character, seemed to neglect some feelings which were better182 satisfied by the earlier or the later faiths of mankind, we cannot say that it really excluded them. The unfading strength of the old gods was comprehended in the self-existence of absolute ideas, and moral goodness was only a particular application of reason to the conduct of life. An emotional or imaginative element was also contributed by the theory that every faculty161 exercised without a reasoned consciousness of its processes and aims was due to some saving grace and inspiration from a superhuman power. It was thus, according to Plato, that poets and artists were able to produce works of which they were not able to render an intelligent account; and it was thus that society continued to hold together with such an exceedingly small amount of wisdom and virtue. Here, however, we have to observe a marked difference between the religious teachers pure and simple, and the Greek philosopher who was a dialectician even more than he was a divine. For Plato held that providential government was merely provisional; that the inspired prophet stood on a distinctly lower level than the critical, self-conscious thinker; that ratiocination163 and not poetry was the highest function of mind; and that action should be reorganised in accordance with demonstrably certain principles.118
This search after a scientific basis for conduct was quite in the spirit of Socrates, but Plato seems to have set very little value on his master’s positive contributions to the systematisation of life. We have seen that the Apologia is purely164 sceptical in its tendency; and we find a whole group of Dialogues, probably the earliest of Plato’s compositions, marked by the same negative, inconclusive tone. These are commonly spoken of as Socratic, and so no doubt they are in reference to the subjects discussed; but they would be more accurately165 described as an attempt to turn the Socratic method against its first originator. We know from another source that tem183perance, fortitude166, and piety167 were the chief virtues168 inculcated and practised by Socrates; while friendship, if not strictly169 speaking a virtue, was equally with them one of his prime interests in life. It is clear that he considered them the most appropriate and remunerative170 subjects of philosophical discussion; that he could define their nature to his own satisfaction; and that he had, in fact, defined them as so many varieties of wisdom. Now, Plato has devoted171 a separate Dialogue to each of the conceptions in question,119 and in each instance he represents Socrates, who is the principal spokesman, as professedly ignorant of the whole subject under discussion, offering no definition of his own (or at least none that he will stand by), but asking his interlocutors for theirs, and pulling it to pieces when it is given. We do, indeed, find a tendency to resolve the virtues into knowledge, and, so far, either to identify them with one another, or to carry them up into the unity152 of a higher idea. To this extent Plato follows in the footsteps of his master, but a result which had completely satisfied Socrates became the starting-point of a new investigation with his successor. If virtue is knowledge, it must be knowledge of what we most desire—of the good. Thus the original difficulty returns under another form, or rather we have merely restated it in different terms. For, to ask what is temperance or fortitude, is equivalent to asking what is its use. And this was so obvious to Socrates, that, apparently, he never thought of distinguishing between the two questions. But no sooner were they distinguished173 than his reduction of all morality to a single principle was shown to be illusive. For each specific virtue had been substituted the knowledge of a specific utility, and that was all. Unless the highest good were one, the means by which it was sought could not converge174 to a single point; nor, according to the new ideas, could their mastery come under the jurisdiction176 of a single art.
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We may also suspect that Plato was dissatisfied not only with the positive results obtained by Socrates, but also with the Socratic method of constructing general definitions. To rise from the part to the whole, from particular instances to general notions, was a popular rather than a scientific process; and sometimes it only amounted to taking the current explanations and modifying them to suit the exigencies177 of ordinary experience. The resulting definitions could never be more than tentative, and a skilful178 dialectician could always upset them by producing an unlooked-for exception, or by discovering an ambiguity179 in the terms by which they were conveyed.
Before ascertaining180 in what direction Plato sought for an outlet181 from these accumulated difficulties, we have to glance at a Dialogue belonging apparently to his earliest compositions, but in one respect occupying a position apart from the rest. The Crito tells us for what reasons Socrates refused to escape from the fate which awaited him in prison, as, with the assistance of generous friends, he might easily have done. The aged182 philosopher considered that by adopting such a course he would be setting the Athenian laws at defiance183, and doing what in him lay to destroy their validity. Now, we know that the historical Socrates held justice to consist in obedience184 to the law of the land; and here for once we find Plato agreeing with him on a definite and positive issue. Such a sudden and singular abandonment of the sceptical attitude merits our attention. It might, indeed, be said that Plato’s inconsistencies defy all attempts at reconciliation185, and that in this instance the desire to set his maligned186 friend in a favourable light triumphed over the claims of an impracticable logic55. We think, however, that a deeper and truer solution can be found. If the Crito inculcates obedience to the laws as a binding187 obligation, it is not for the reasons which, according to Xenophon, were adduced by the real Socrates in his dispute with the Sophist Hippias; general utility and private interest were the sole grounds appealed to then. Plato, on185 the other hand, ignores all such external considerations. True to his usual method, he reduces the legal conscience to a purely dialectical process. Just as in an argument the disputants are, or ought to be, bound by their own admissions, so also the citizen is bound by a tacit compact to fulfil the laws whose protection he has enjoyed and of whose claims his protracted188 residence is an acknowledgment. Here there is no need of a transcendent foundation for morality, as none but logical considerations come into play. And it also deserves to be noticed that, where this very idea of an obligation based on acceptance of services had been employed by Socrates, it was discarded by Plato. In the Euthyphro, a Dialogue devoted to the discussion of piety, the theory that religion rests on an exchange of good offices between gods and men is mentioned only to be scornfully rejected. Equally remarkable189, and equally in advance of the Socratic standpoint, is a principle enunciated190 in the Crito, that retaliation191 is wrong, and that evil should never be returned for evil.120 And both are distinct anticipations of the earliest Christian155 teaching, though both are implicitly contradicted by the so-called religious services celebrated192 in Christian churches and by the doctrine of a divine retribution which is only not retaliatory193 because it is infinitely194 in excess of the provocation195 received.
If the earliest of Plato’s enquiries, while they deal with the same subjects and are conducted on the same method as those cultivated by Socrates, evince a breadth of view surpassing anything recorded of him by Xenophon, they also exhibit traces of an influence disconnected with and inferior in value to his. On more than one occasion121 Plato reasons, or rather quibbles, in a style which he has elsewhere held up to ridicule31 as characteristic of the Sophists, with such success that the name of sophistry196 has clung to it ever since.186 Indeed, some of the verbal fallacies employed are so transparent197 that we can hardly suppose them to be unintentional, and we are forced to conclude that the young despiser of human wisdom was resolved to maintain his thesis with any weapons, good or bad, which came to hand. And it seems much more likely that he learned the eristic art from Protagoras or from his disciples198 than from Socrates. Plato spent a large part of his life in opposing the Sophists—that is to say, the paid professors of wisdom and virtue; but in spite of, or rather perhaps because of, this very opposition199, he was profoundly affected by their teaching and example. It is quite conceivable, although we do not find it stated as a fact, that he resorted to them for instruction when a young man, and before coming under the influence of Socrates, an event which did not take place until he was twenty years old; or he may have been directed to them by Socrates himself. With all its originality200, his style bears traces of a rhetorical training in the more elaborate passages, and the Sophists were the only teachers of rhetoric201 then to be found. His habit of clothing philosophical lessons in the form of a myth seems also to have been borrowed from them. It would, therefore, not be surprising that he should cultivate their argumentative legerdemain202 side by side with the more strict and severe discipline of Socratic dialectics.
Plato does, no doubt, make it a charge against the Sophists that their doctrines203 are not only false and immoral, but that they are put together without any regard for logical coherence. It would seem, however, that this style of attack belongs rather to the later and constructive204 than to the earlier and receptive period of his intellectual development. The original cause of his antagonism205 to the professional teachers seems to have been their general pretensions to knowledge, which, from the standpoint of universal scepticism, were, of course, utterly illusive; together with a feeling of aristocratic contempt for a calling in which considerations of187 pecuniary207 interest were involved, heightened in this instance by a conviction that the buyer received nothing better than a sham208 article in exchange for his money. Here, again, a parallel suggests itself with the first preaching of the Gospel. The attitude of Christ towards the scribes and Pharisees, as also that of St. Paul towards Simon Magus, will help us to understand how Plato, in another order of spiritual teaching, must have regarded the hypocrisy209 of wisdom, the intrusion of fraudulent traders into the temple of Delphic inspiration, and the sale of a priceless blessing120 whose unlimited210 diffusion211 should have been its own and only reward.
Yet throughout the philosophy of Plato we meet with a tendency to ambiguous shiftings and reversions of which, here also, due account must be taken. That curious blending of love and hate which forms the subject of a mystical lyric212 in Mr. Browning’s Pippa Passes, is not without its counterpart in purely rationalistic discussion. If Plato used the Socratic method to dissolve away much that was untrue, because incomplete, in Socratism, he used it also to absorb much that was deserving of development in Sophisticism. If, in one sense, the latter was a direct reversal of his master’s teaching, in another it served as a sort of intermediary between that teaching and the unenlightened consciousness of mankind. The shadow should not be confounded with the substance, but it might show by contiguity213, by resemblance, and by contrast where the solid reality lay, what were its outlines, and how its characteristic lights might best be viewed.
Such is the mild and conciliatory mode of treatment at first adopted by Plato in dealing with the principal representative of the Sophists—Protagoras. In the Dialogue which bears his name the famous humanist is presented to us as a professor of popular unsystematised morality, proving by a variety of practical arguments and ingenious illustrations that virtue can be taught, and that the preservation of social order depends upon the possibility of teaching it; but unwilling215 to188 go along with the reasonings by which Socrates shows the applicability of rigorously scientific principles to conduct. Plato has here taken up one side of the Socratic ethics216, and developed it into a complete and self-consistent theory. The doctrine inculcated is that form of utilitarianism to which Mr. Sidgwick has given the name of egoistic hedonism. We are brought to admit that virtue is one because the various virtues reduce themselves in the last analysis to prudence217. It is assumed that happiness, in the sense of pleasure and the absence of pain, is the sole end of life. Duty is identified with interest. Morality is a calculus218 for computing219 quantities of pleasure and pain, and all virtuous220 action is a means for securing a maximum of the one together with a minimum of the other. Ethical221 science is constituted; it can be taught like mathematics; and so far the Sophists are right, but they have arrived at the truth by a purely empirical process; while Socrates, who professes222 to know nothing, by simply following the dialectic impulse strikes out a generalisation which at once confirms and explains their position; yet from self-sufficiency or prejudice they refuse to agree with him in taking their stand on its only logical foundation.
That Plato put forward the ethical theory of the Protagoras in perfect good faith cannot, we think, be doubted; although in other writings he has repudiated223 hedonism with contemptuous aversion; and it seems equally evident that this was his earliest contribution to positive thought. Of all his theories it is the simplest and most Socratic; for Socrates, in endeavouring to reclaim224 the foolish or vicious, often spoke113 as if self-interest was the paramount225 principle of human nature; although, had his assumption been formulated226 as an abstract proposition, he too might have shrunk from it with something of the uneasiness attributed to Protagoras. And from internal evidence of another description we have reason to think that the Dialogue in question is a comparatively juvenile227 production, remembering always that the period of youth was much more189 protracted among the Greeks than among ourselves. One almost seems to recognise the hand of a boy just out of college, who delights in drawing caricatures of his teachers; and who, while he looks down on classical scholarship in comparison with more living and practical topics, is not sorry to show that he can discuss a difficult passage from Simonides better than the professors themselves.
III.
Our survey of Plato’s first period is now complete; and we have to enter on the far more arduous228 task of tracing out the circumstances, impulses, and ideas by which all the scattered229 materials of Greek life, Greek art, and Greek thought were shaped into a new system and stamped with the impress of an imperishable genius. At the threshold of this second period the personality of Plato himself emerges into greater distinctness, and we have to consider what part it played in an evolution where universal tendencies and individual leanings were inseparably combined.
Plato was born in the year 429, or according to some accounts 427, and died 347 B.C. Few incidents in his biography can be fixed230 with any certainty; but for our purpose the most general facts are also the most interesting, and about these we have tolerably trustworthy information. His family was one of the noblest in Athens, being connected on the father’s side with Codrus, and on the mother’s with Solon; while two of his kinsmen231, Critias and Charmides, were among the chiefs of the oligarchic party. It is uncertain whether he inherited any considerable property, nor is the question one of much importance. It seems clear that he enjoyed the best education Athens could afford, and that through life he possessed a competence232 sufficient to relieve him from the cares of material existence. Possibly the preference which he expressed, when far advanced in life, for moderate health and190 wealth arose from having experienced those advantages himself. If the busts233 which bear his name are to be trusted, he was remarkably beautiful, and, like some other philosophers, very careful of his personal appearance. Perhaps some reminiscences of the admiration234 bestowed235 on himself may be mingled236 with those pictures of youthful loveliness and of its exciting effect on the imaginations of older men which give such grace and animation237 to his earliest dialogues. We know not whether as lover or beloved he passed unscathed through the storms of passion which he has so powerfully described, nor whether his apparently intimate acquaintance with them is due to divination238 or to regretful experience. We may pass by in silence whatever is related on this subject, with the certainty that, whether true or not, scandalous stories could not fail to be circulated about him.
It was natural that one who united a great intellect to a glowing temperament239 should turn his thoughts to poetry. Plato wrote a quantity of verses—verse-making had become fashionable just then—but wisely committed them to the flames on making the acquaintance of Socrates. It may well be doubted whether the author of the Phaedrus and the Symposium240 would ever have attained241 eminence242 in metrical composition, even had he lived in an age far more favourable to poetic243 inspiration than that which came after the flowering time of Attic244 art. It seems as if Plato, with all his fervour, fancy, and dramatic skill, lacked the most essential quality of a singer; his finest passages are on a level with the highest poetry, and yet they are separated from it by a chasm245 more easily felt than described. Aristotle, whom we think of as hard and dry and cold, sometimes comes much nearer to the true lyric cry. And, as if to mark out Plato’s style still more distinctly from every other, it is also deficient246 in oratorical247 power. The philosopher evidently thought that he could beat the rhetoricians on their own ground; if the Menexenus be genuine, he tried to do so and failed; and even without its191 testimony we are entitled to say as much on the strength of shorter attempts. We must even take leave to doubt whether dialogue, properly so called, was Plato’s forte248. Where one speaker is placed at such a height above the others as Socrates, or the Eleatic Stranger, or the Athenian in the Laws, there cannot be any real conversation. The other interlocutors are good listeners, and serve to break the monotony of a continuous exposition by their expressions of assent249 or even by their occasional inability to follow the argument, but give no real help or stimulus. And when allowed to offer an opinion of their own, they, too, lapse144 into a monologue250, addressed, as our silent trains of thought habitually are, to an imaginary auditor251 whose sympathy and support are necessary but are also secure. Yet if Plato’s style is neither exactly poetical252, nor oratorical, nor conversational, it has affinities253 with each of these three varieties; it represents the common root from which they spring, and brings us, better than any other species of composition, into immediate contact with the mind of the writer. The Platonic Socrates has eyes like those of a portrait which follow us wherever we turn, and through which we can read his inmost soul, which is no other than the universal reason of humanity in the delighted surprise of its first awakening254 to self-conscious activity. The poet thinks and feels for us; the orator11 makes our thoughts and feelings his own, and then restores them to us in a concentrated form, ‘receiving in vapour what he gives back in a flood.’ Plato removes every obstacle to the free development of our faculties255; he teaches us by his own example how to think and to feel for ourselves. If Socrates personified philosophy, Plato has reproduced the personification in artistic256 form with such masterly effect that its influence has been extended through all ages and over the whole civilised world. This portrait stands as an intermediary between its original and the far-reaching effects indirectly257 due to his dialectic inspiration, like that universal soul which Plato himself has placed between192 the supreme artificer and the material world, that it might bring the fleeting contents of space and time into harmony with uncreated and everlasting258 ideas.
To paint Socrates at his highest and his best, it was necessary to break through the narrow limits of his historic individuality, and to show how, had they been presented to him, he would have dealt with problems outside the experience of a home-staying Athenian citizen. The founder259 of idealism—that is to say, the realisation of reason, the systematic application of thought to life—had succeeded in his task because he had embodied260 the noblest elements of the Athenian Dêmos, orderliness, patriotism261, self-control, and publicity262 of debate, together with a receptive intelligence for improvements effected in other states. But, just as the impulse which enabled those qualities to tell decisively on Greek history at a moment of inestimable importance came from the Athenian aristocracy, with its Dorian sympathies, its adventurous263 ambition, and its keen attention to foreign affairs, so also did Plato, carrying the same spirit into philosophy, bring the dialectic method into contact with older and broader currents of speculation, and employ it to recognise the whole spiritual activity of his race.
A strong desire for reform must always be preceded by a deep dissatisfaction with things as they are; and if the reform is to be very sweeping264 the discontent must be equally comprehensive. Hence the great renovators of human life have been remarkable for the severity with which they have denounced the failings of the world where they were placed, whether as regards persons, habits, institutions, or beliefs. Yet to speak of their attitude as pessimistic would either be unfair, or would betray an unpardonable inability to discriminate132 between two utterly different theories of existence. Nothing can well be more unlike the systematised pusillanimity265 of those lost souls, without courage and without hope, who find a consolation for their own failure in the belief that everything193 is a failure, than the fiery energy which is drawn266 into a perpetual tension by the contrast of what is with the vision of what yet may be. But if pessimism267 paralyses every generous effort and aspiration268 by teaching that misery269 is the irremediable lot of animated270 beings, or even, in the last analysis, of all being, the opposing theory of optimism exercises as deadly an influence when it induces men to believe that their present condition is, on the whole, a satisfactory one, or that at worst wrong will be righted without any criticism or interference on their part. Even those who believe progress to have been, so far, the most certain fact in human history, cannot blind themselves to the existence of enormous forces ever tending to draw society back into the barbarism and brutality271 of its primitive272 condition; and they know also, that whatever ground we have won is due to the efforts of a small minority, who were never weary of urging forward their more sluggish273 companions, without caring what angry susceptibilities they might arouse—risking recrimination, insult, and outrage32, so that only, under whatever form, whether of divine mandate274 or of scientific demonstration275, the message of humanity to her children might be delivered in time. Nor is it only with immobility that they have had to contend. Gains in one direction are frequently balanced by losses in another; while at certain periods there is a distinct retrogression along the whole line. And it is well if, amid the general decline to a lower level, sinister276 voices are not heard proclaiming that the multitude may safely trust to their own promptings, and that self-indulgence or self-will should be the only law of life. It is also on such occasions that the rallying cry is most needed, and that the born leaders of civilisation must put forth their most strenuous277 efforts to arrest the disheartened fugitives278 and to denounce the treacherous279 guides. It was in this aspect that Plato viewed his age; and he set himself to continue the task which Socrates had attempted, but had been trampled280 down in endeavouring to achieve.
194
The illustrious Italian poet and essayist, Leopardi, has observed that the idea of the world as a vast confederacy banded together for the repression281 of everything good and great and true, originated with Jesus Christ.122 It is surprising that so accomplished282 a Hellenist should not have attributed the priority to Plato. It is true that he does not speak of the world itself in Leopardi’s sense, because to him it meant something different—a divinely created order which it would have been blasphemy283 to revile284; but the thing is everywhere present to his thoughts under other names, and he pursues it with relentless285 hostility286. He looks on the great majority of the human race, individually and socially, in their beliefs and in their practices, as utterly corrupt287, and blinded to such an extent that they are ready to turn and rend162 any one who attempts to lead them into a better path. The many ‘know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with gluttony and sensuality. Like cattle, with their eyes always looking down and their heads stooping, not, indeed, to the earth, but to the dining-table, they fatten288 and feed and breed, and in their excessive love of these delights they kick and butt289 at one another with horns and hoofs290 which are made of iron; and they kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust214.’123 Their ideal is the man who nurses up his desires to the utmost intensity291, and procures292 the means for gratifying them by fraud or violence. The assembled multitude resembles a strong and fierce brute expressing its wishes by inarticulate grunts293, which the popular leaders make it their business to understand and to comply with.J A statesman of the nobler kind who should attempt to benefit the people by thwarting294 their foolish appetites will be denounced as a public enemy by the demagogues, and will stand no more chance of acquittal than a physician if he were brought before a jury of children by the pastry-cook.
195
That an Athenian, or, indeed, any Greek gentleman, should regard the common people with contempt and aversion was nothing strange. A generation earlier such feelings would have led Plato to look on the overthrow295 of democracy and the establishment of an aristocratic government as the remedy for every evil. The upper classes, accustomed to decorate themselves with complimentary296 titles, had actually come to believe that all who belonged to them were paragons297 of wisdom and goodness. With the rule of the Thirty came a terrible awakening. In a few months more atrocities298 were perpetrated by the oligarchs than the Dêmos had been guilty of in as many generations. It was shown that accomplished gentlemen like Critias were only distinguished from the common herd299 by their greater impatience of opposition and by the more destructive fury of their appetites. With Plato, at least, all allusions on this head came to an end. He now ‘smiled at the claims of long descent,’ considering that ‘every man has had thousands and thousands of progenitors300, and among them have been rich and poor, kings and slaves, Hellenes and barbarians301, many times over;’ and even the possession of a large landed property ceased to inspire him with any respect when he compared it with the surface of the whole earth.K
There still remained one form of government to be tried, the despotic rule of a single individual. In the course of his travels Plato came into contact with an able and powerful specimen302 of the tyrant303 class, the elder Dionysius. A number of stories relating to their intercourse304 have been preserved; but the different versions disagree very widely, and none of them can be entirely trusted. It seems certain, however, that Plato gave great offence to the tyrant by his freedom of speech, that he narrowly escaped death, and that he was sold into slavery, from which condition he was redeemed305 by the generosity306 of Anniceris, a Cyrenaean philosopher. It is supposed that the scathing307 description in which Plato has196 held up to everlasting infamy308 the unworthy possessor of absolute power—a description long afterwards applied by Tacitus to the vilest309 of the Roman emperors—was suggested by the type which had come under his own observation in Sicily.
Of all existing constitutions that of Sparta approached nearest to the ideal of Plato, or, rather, he regarded it as the least degraded. He liked the conservatism of the Spartans310, their rigid312 discipline, their haughty313 courage, the participation314 of their daughters in gymnastic exercises, the austerity of their manners, and their respect for old age; but he found much to censure both in their ancient customs and in the characteristics which the possession of empire had recently developed among them. He speaks with disapproval315 of their exclusively military organisation316, of their contempt for philosophy, and of the open sanction which they gave to practices barely tolerated at Athens. And he also comments on their covetousness317, their harshness to inferiors, and their haste to throw off the restraints of the law whenever detection could be evaded318.124
So far we have spoken as if Plato regarded the various false polities existing around him as so many fixed and disconnected types. This, however, was not the case. The present state of things was bad enough, but it threatened to become worse wherever worse was possible. The constitutions exhibiting a mixture of good and evil contained within themselves the seeds of a further corruption319, and tended to pass into the form standing68 next in order on the downward slope. Spartan311 timocracy must in time become an oligarchy320, to oligarchy would succeed democracy, and this would end in tyranny, beyond which no further fall was possible.125 The degraded condition of Syracuse seemed likely to be the last outcome of Hellenic civilisation. We know not how far the gloomy forebodings of Plato may have been justified321 by his197 own experience, but he sketched322 with prophetic insight the future fortunes of the Roman Republic. Every phase of the progressive degeneration is exemplified in its later history, and the order of their succession is most faithfully preserved. Even his portraits of individual timocrats, oligarchs, demagogues, and despots are reproduced to the life in the pages of Plutarch, of Cicero, and of Tacitus.
If our critic found so little to admire in Hellas, still less did he seek for the realisation of his dreams in the outlying world. The lessons of Protagoras had not been wasted on him, and, unlike the nature-worshippers of the eighteenth century, he never fell into the delusion323 that wisdom and virtue had their home in primaeval forests or in corrupt Oriental despotisms. For him, Greek civilisation, with all its faults, was the best thing that human nature had produced, the only hearth324 of intellectual culture, the only soil where new experiments in education and government could be tried. He could go down to the roots of thought, of language, and of society; he could construct a new style, a new system, and a new polity, from the foundation up; he could grasp all the tendencies that came under his immediate observation, and follow them out to their utmost possibilities of expansion; but his vast powers of analysis and generalisation remained subject to this restriction325, that a Hellene he was and a Hellene he remained to the end.
A Hellene, and an aristocrat206 as well. Or, using the word in its most comprehensive sense, we may say that he was an aristocrat all round, a believer in inherent superiorities of race, sex, birth, breeding, and age. Everywhere we find him restlessly searching after the wisest, purest, best, until at last, passing beyond the limits of existence itself, words fail him to describe the absolute ineffable326 only good, not being and not knowledge, but creating and inspiring both. Thus it came to pass that his hopes of effecting a thorough reform did not lie in an appeal to the masses, but in the selection and198 seclusion327 from evil influences of a few intelligent youths. Here we may detect a remarkable divergence328 between him and his master. Socrates, himself a man of the people, did not like to hear the Athenians abused. If they went wrong, it was, he said, the fault of their leaders.126 But according to Plato, it was from the people themselves that corruption originally proceeded, it was they who instilled329 false lessons into the most intelligent minds, teaching them from their very infancy330 to prefer show to substance, success to merit, and pleasure to virtue; making the study of popular caprice the sure road to power, and poisoning the very sources of morality by circulating blasphemous331 stories about the gods—stories which represented them as weak, sensual, capricious beings, setting an example of iniquity332 themselves, and quite willing to pardon it in men on condition of going shares in the spoil. The poets had a great deal to do with the manufacture of these discreditable myths; and towards poets as a class Plato entertained feelings of mingled admiration and contempt. As an artist, he was powerfully attracted by the beauty of their works; as a theologian, he believed them to be the channels of divine inspiration, and sometimes also the guardians333 of a sacred tradition; but as a critic, he was shocked at their incapacity to explain the meaning of their own works, especially when it was coupled with ridiculous pretensions to omniscience334; and he regarded the imitative character of their productions as illustrating335, in a particularly flagrant manner, that substitution of appearance for reality which, according to his philosophy, was the deepest source of error and evil.
If private society exercised a demoralising influence on its most gifted members, and in turn suffered a still further debasement by listening to their opinions, the same fatal interchange of corruption went on still more actively336 in public life, so far, at least, as Athenian democracy was concerned. The people would tolerate no statesman who did not pamper199 their appetites; and the statesmen, for their own ambitious purposes, attended solely337 to the material wants of the people, entirely neglecting their spiritual interests. In this respect, Pericles, the most admired of all, had been the chief of sinners; for ‘he was the first who gave the people pay and made them idle and cowardly, and encouraged them in the love of talk and of money.’ Accordingly, a righteous retribution overtook him, for ‘at the very end of his life they convicted him of theft, and almost put him to death.’ So it had been with the other boasted leaders, Miltiades, Themistocles, and Cimon; all suffered from what is falsely called the ingratitude338 of the people. Like injudicious keepers, they had made the animal committed to their charge fiercer instead of gentler, until its savage propensities339 were turned against themselves. Or, changing the comparison, they were like purveyors of luxury, who fed the State on a diet to which its present ‘ulcerated and swollen340 condition’ was due. They had ‘filled the city full of harbours, and docks, and walls, and revenues and all that, and had left no room for justice and temperance.’ One only among the elder statesmen, Aristeides, is excepted from this sweeping condemnation341, and, similarly, Socrates is declared to have been the only true statesman of his time.127
On turning from the conduct of State affairs to the administration of justice in the popular law courts, we find the same tale of iniquity repeated, but this time with more telling satire342, as Plato is speaking from his own immediate experience. He considers that, under the manipulation of dexterous343 pleaders, judicial344 decisions had come to be framed with a total disregard of righteousness. That disputed claims should be submitted to a popular tribunal and settled by counting heads was, indeed, according to his view, a virtual admission that no absolute standard of justice existed; that moral truth varied345 with individual opinion. And this200 is how the character of the lawyer had been moulded in consequence:—
He has become keen and shrewd; he has learned how to flatter his master in word and indulge him in deed; but his soul is small and unrighteous. His slavish condition has deprived him of growth and uprightness and independence; dangers and fears which were too much for his truth and honesty came upon him in early years, when the tenderness of youth was unequal to them, and he has been driven into crooked346 ways; from the first he has practised deception347 and retaliation, and has become stunted348 and warped349. And so he has passed out of youth into manhood, having no soundness in him, and is now, as he thinks, a master in wisdom.128
To make matters worse, the original of this unflattering portrait was rapidly becoming the most powerful man in the State. Increasing specialisation had completely separated the military and political functions which had formerly350 been discharged by a single eminent individual, and the business of legislation was also becoming a distinct profession. No orator could obtain a hearing in the assembly who had not a technical acquaintance with the subject of deliberation, if it admitted of technical treatment, which was much more frequently the case now than in the preceding generation. As a consequence of this revolution, the ultimate power of supervision351 and control was passing into the hands of the law courts, where general questions could be discussed in a more popular style, and often from a wider or a more sentimental352 point of view. They were, in fact, beginning to wield353 an authority like that exercised until quite lately by the press in modern Europe, only that its action was much more direct and formidable. A vote of the Ecclêsia could only deprive a statesman of office: a vote of the Dicastery might deprive him of civil rights, home, freedom, property, or even life itself. Moreover, with the loss of empire and the decline of public spirit, private interests had come to attract a proportionately larger share of attention; and unobtrusive citi201zens who had formerly escaped from the storms of party passion, now found themselves marked out as a prey354 by every fluent and dexterous pleader who could find an excuse for dragging them before the courts. Rhetoric was hailed as the supreme art, enabling its possessor to dispense355 with every other study, and promising356 young men were encouraged to look on it as the most paying line they could take up. Even those whose civil status or natural timidity precluded357 them from speaking in public could gain an eminent and envied position by composing speeches for others to deliver. Behind these, again, stood the professed172 masters of rhetoric, claiming to direct the education and the whole public opinion of the age by their lectures and pamphlets. Philosophy was not excluded from their system of training, but it occupied a strictly subordinate place. Studied in moderation, they looked on it as a bracing358 mental exercise and a repertory of sounding commonplaces, if not as a solvent359 for old-fashioned notions of honesty; but a close adherence360 to the laws of logic or to the principles of morality seemed puerile361 pedantry362 to the elegant stylists who made themselves the advocates of every crowned filibuster363 abroad, while preaching a policy of peace at any price at home.
It is evident that the fate of Socrates was constantly in Plato’s thoughts, and greatly embittered364 his scorn for the multitude as well as for those who made themselves its ministers and minions365. It so happened that his friend’s three accusers had been respectively a poet, a statesman, and a rhetor; thus aptly typifying to the philosopher’s lively imagination the triad of charlatans366 in whom public opinion found its appropriate representatives and spokesmen. Yet Plato ought consistently to have held that the condemnation of Socrates was, equally with the persecution367 of Pericles, a satire on the teaching which, after at least thirty years’ exercise, had left its auditors368 more corrupt than it found them. In like manner the ostracism369 of Aristeides might be set against similar202 sentences passed on less puritanical370 statesmen. For the purpose of the argument it would have been sufficient to show that in existing circumstances the office of public adviser371 was both thankless and dangerous. We must always remember that when Plato is speaking of past times he is profoundly influenced by aristocratic traditions, and also that under a retrospective disguise he is really attacking contemporary abuses. And if, even then, his denunciations seem excessive, their justification372 may be found in that continued decay of public virtue which, not long afterwards, brought about the final catastrophe373 of Athenian independence.
IV.
To illustrate374 the relation in which Plato stood towards his own times, we have already had occasion to draw largely on the productions of his maturer manhood. We have now to take up the broken thread of our systematic exposition, and to trace the development of his philosophy through that wonderful series of compositions which entitle him to rank among the greatest writers, the most comprehensive thinkers, and the purest religious teachers of all ages. In the presence of such glory a mere18 divergence of opinion must not be permitted to influence our judgment. High above all particular truths stands the principle that truth itself exists, and it was for this that Plato fought. If there were others more completely emancipated375 from superstition, none so persistently376 appealed to the logic before which superstition must ultimately vanish. If his schemes for the reconstruction377 of society ignore many obvious facts, they assert with unrivalled force the necessary supremacy of public welfare over private pleasure; and their avowed378 utilitarianism offers a common ground to the rival reformers who will have nothing to do with the mysticism of their metaphysical foundation. Those, again, who hold, like the youthful Plato himself, that the203 ultimate interpretation379 of existence belongs to a science transcending380 human reason, will here find the doctrines of their religion anticipated as in a dream. And even those who, standing aloof381 both from theology and philosophy, live, as they imagine, for beauty alone, will observe with interest how the spirit of Greek art survived in the denunciation of its idolatry, and ‘the light that never was on sea or land,’ after fading away from the lower levels of Athenian fancy, came once more to suffuse382 the frozen steeps of dialectic with its latest and divinest rays.
The glowing enthusiasm of Plato is, however, not entirely derived from the poetic traditions of his native city; or perhaps we should rather say that he and the great writers who preceded him drew from a common fount of inspiration. Mr. Emerson, in one of the most penetrating383 criticisms ever written on our philosopher,129 has pointed384 out the existence of two distinct elements in the Platonic Dialogues—one dispersive385, practical, prosaic386; the other mystical, absorbing, centripetal387. The American scholar is, however, as we think, quite mistaken when he attributes the second of these tendencies to Asiatic influence. It is extremely doubtful whether Plato ever travelled farther east than Egypt; it is probable that his stay in that country was not of long duration; and it is certain that he did not acquire a single metaphysical idea from its inhabitants. He liked their rigid conservatism; he liked their institution of a dominant160 priesthood; he liked their system of popular education, and the place which it gave to mathematics made him look with shame on the ‘swinish ignorance’ of his own countrymen in that respect;130 but on the whole he classes them among the races exclusively devoted to money-making, and in aptitude388 for philosophy he places them far below the Greeks. Very different were the impressions brought home from his visits to Sicily and204 Southern Italy. There he became acquainted with modes of thought in which the search after hidden resemblances and analogies was a predominant passion; there the existence of a central unity underlying all phenomena was maintained, as against sense and common opinion, with the intensity of a religious creed; there alone speculation was clothed in poetic language; there first had an attempt been made to carry thought into life by associating it with a reform of manners and beliefs. There, too, the arts of dance and song had assumed a more orderly and solemn aspect; the chorus received its final constitution from a Sicilian master; and the loftiest strains of Greek lyric poetry were composed for recitation in the streets of Sicilian cities or at the courts of Sicilian kings. Then, with the rise of rhetoric, Greek prose was elaborated by Sicilian teachers into a sort of rhythmical389 composition, combining rich imagery with studied harmonies and contrasts of sense and sound. And as the hold of Asiatic civilisation on eastern Hellas grew weaker, the attention of her foremost spirits was more and more attracted to this new region of wonder and romance. The stream of colonisation set thither390 in a steady flow; the scenes of mythical391 adventure were rediscovered in Western waters; and it was imagined that, by grasping the resources of Sicily, an empire extending over the whole Mediterranean392 might be won. Perhaps, without being too fanciful, we may trace a likeness393 between the daring schemes of Alcibiades and the more remote but not more visionary kingdom suggested by an analogous394 inspiration to the idealising soul of Plato. Each had learned to practise, although for far different purposes, the royal art of Socrates—the mastery over men’s minds acquired by a close study of their interests, passions, and beliefs. But the ambition of the one defeated his own aim, to the destruction of his country and of himself; while the other drew into Athenian thought whatever of Western force and fervour was needed for the accomplishment395 of its205 imperial task. We may say of Plato what he has said of his own Theaetêtus, that ‘he moves surely and smoothly396 and successfully in the path of knowledge and inquiry397; always making progress like the noiseless flow of a river of oil’;131 but everywhere beside or beneath that placid398 lubricating flow we may trace the action of another current, where still sparkles, fresh and clear as at first, the fiery Sicilian wine.
It will be remembered that in an earlier section of this chapter we accompanied Plato to a period when he had provisionally adopted a theory in which the Protagorean contention that virtue can be taught was confirmed and explained by the Socratic contention that virtue is knowledge; while this knowledge again was interpreted in the sense of a hedonistic calculus, a prevision and comparison of the pleasures and pains consequent on our actions. We have now to trace the lines of thought by which he was guided to a different conception of ethical science.
After resolving virtue into knowledge of pleasure, the next questions which would present themselves to so keen a thinker were obviously, What is knowledge? and What is pleasure? The Theaetêtus is chiefly occupied with a discussion of the various answers already given to the first of these enquiries. It seems, therefore, to come naturally next after the Protagoras; and our conjecture receives a further confirmation when we find that here also a large place is given to the opinions of the Sophist after whom that dialogue is named; the chief difference being that the points selected for controversy are of a speculative rather than of a practical character. There is, however, a close connexion between the argument by which Protagoras had endeavoured to prove that all mankind are teachers of virtue, and his more general principle that man is the measure of all things. And perhaps it was the more obvious difficulties attending the latter view which led Plato, after some hesitation399, to reject the former along206 with it. In an earlier chapter we gave some reasons for believing that Protagoras did not erect400 every individual into an arbiter401 of truth in the sweeping sense afterwards put upon his words. He was probably opposing a human to a theological or a naturalistic standard. Nevertheless, it does not follow that Plato was fighting with a shadow when he pressed the Protagorean dictum to its most literal interpretation. There are plenty of people still who would maintain it to that extent. Wherever and whenever the authority of ancient traditions is broken down, the doctrine that one man’s opinion is as good as another’s immediately takes its place; or rather the doctrine in question is a survival of traditionalism in an extremely pulverised form. And when we are told that the majority must be right—which is a very different principle from holding that the majority should be obeyed—we may take it as a sign that the loose particles are beginning to coalesce402 again. The substitution of an individual for a universal standard of truth is, according to Plato, a direct consequence of the theory which identifies knowledge with sense-perception. It is, at any rate, certain that the most vehement403 assertors of the former doctrine are also those who are fondest of appealing to what they and their friends have seen, heard, or felt; and the more educated among them place enormous confidence in statistics. They are also fond of repeating the adage404 that an ounce of fact is worth a ton of theory, without considering that theory alone can furnish the balance in which facts are weighed. Plato does not go very deep into the rationale of observation, nor in the infancy of exact science was it to be expected that he should. He fully23 recognised the presence of two factors, an objective and a subjective405, in every sensation, but lost his hold on the true method in attempting to trace a like dualism through the whole of consciousness. Where we should distinguish between the mental energies and the physical processes underlying them, or between the207 elements respectively contributed to every cognition by immediate experience and reflection, he conceived the inner and outer worlds as two analogous series related to one another as an image to its original.
At this last point we touch on the final generalisation by which Plato extended the dialectic method to all existence, and readmitted into philosophy the earlier speculations406 provisionally excluded from it by Socrates. The cross-examining elenchus, at first applied only to individuals, had been turned with destructive effect on every class, every institution, and every polity, until the whole of human life was made to appear one mass of self-contradiction, instability, and illusion. It had been held by some that the order of nature offered a contrast and a correction to this bewildering chaos407. Plato, on the other hand, sought to show that the ignorance and evil prevalent among men were only a part of the imperfection necessarily belonging to derivative408 existence of every kind. For this purpose the philosophy of Heracleitus proved a welcome auxiliary409. The pupil of Socrates had been taught in early youth by Cratylus, an adherent410 of the Ephesian school, that movement, relativity, and the conjunction of opposites are the very conditions under which Nature works. We may conjecture that Plato did not at first detect any resemblance between the Heracleitean flux411 and the mental bewilderment produced or brought to light by the master of cross-examination. But his visit to Italy would probably enable him to take a new view of the Ionian speculations, by bringing him into contact with schools maintaining a directly opposite doctrine. The Eleatics held that existence remained eternally undivided, unmoved, and unchanged. The Pythagoreans arranged all things according to a strained and rigid antithetical construction. Then came the identifying flash.132 Unchangeable reality, divine order,208 mathematical truth—these were the objective counterpart of the Socratic definitions, of the consistency which Socrates introduced into conduct. The Heracleitean system applied to phenomena only; and it faithfully reflected the incoherent beliefs and disorderly actions of uneducated men. We are brought into relation with the fluctuating sea of generated and perishing natures by sense and opinion, and these reproduce, in their irreconcilable412 diversity, the shifting character of the objects with which they are conversant413. Whatever we see and feel is a mixture of being and unreality; it is, and is not, at the same time. Sensible magnitudes are equal or greater or less according as the standard of comparison is chosen. Yet the very act of comparison shows that there is something in ourselves deeper than mere sense; something to which all individual sensations are referred as to a common centre, and in which their images are stored up. Knowledge, then, can no longer be identified with sensation, since the mental reproductions of external objects are apprehended414 in the absence of their originals, and since thought possesses the further faculty of framing abstract notions not representing any sensible objects at all.
We need not follow Plato’s investigations415 into the meaning of knowledge and the causes of illusion any further; especially as they do not lead, in this instance, to any positive conclusion. The general tendency is to seek for truth within rather than without; and to connect error partly with the disturbing influence of sense-impressions on the higher mental faculties, partly with the inherent confusion and instability of the phenomena whence those impressions are derived. Our principal concern here is to note the expansive power of generalisation which was carrying philosophy back again from man to Nature—the deep-seated contempt of Plato for public opinion—and the incipient416 differentiation417 of demonstrated from empirical truth.
A somewhat similar vein418 of reflection is worked out in the209 Cratylus, a Dialogue presenting some important points of contact with the Theaetêtus, and probably belonging to the same period. There is the same constant reference to Heracleitus, whose philosophy is here also treated as in great measure, but not entirely, true; and the opposing system of Parmenides is again mentioned, though much more briefly419, as a valuable set-off against its extravagances. The Cratylus deals exclusively with language, just as the Theaetêtus had dealt with sensation and mental imagery, but in such a playful and ironical420 tone that its speculative importance is likely to be overlooked. Some of the Greek philosophers seem to have thought that the study of things might advantageously be replaced by the study of words, which were supposed to have a natural and necessary connexion with their accepted meanings. This view was particularly favoured by the Heracleiteans, who found, or fancied that they found, a confirmation of their master’s teaching in etymology421. Plato professes to adopt the theory in question, and supports it with a number of derivations which to us seem ludicrously absurd, but which may possibly have been transcribed422 from the pages of contemporary philologists. At last, however, he turns round and shows that other verbal arguments, equally good, might be adduced on behalf of Parmenides. But the most valuable part of the discussion is a protest against the whole theory that things can be studied through their names. Plato justly observes that an image, to be perfect, should not reproduce its original, but only certain aspects of it; that the framers of language were not infallible; and that we are just as competent to discover the nature of things as they could be. One can imagine the delight with which he would have welcomed the modern discovery that sensations, too, are a language; and that the associated groups into which they most readily gather are determined423 less by the necessary connexions of things in themselves than by the exigencies of self-preservation and reproduction in sentient424 beings.
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Through all his criticisms on the popular sources of information—sense, language and public opinion—Plato refers to an ideal of perfect knowledge which he assumes without being able to define it. It must satisfy the negative condition of being free from self-contradiction, but further than this we cannot go. Yet, in the hands of a metaphysician, no more than this was required to reconstruct the world. The demand for consistency explains the practical philosophy of Socrates. It also explains, under another form, the philosophy, both practical and speculative, of his disciple. Identity and the correlative of identity, difference, gradually came to cover with their manifold combinations all knowledge, all life, and all existence.
It was from mathematical science that the light of certainty first broke. Socrates had not encouraged the study of mathematics, either pure or applied; nor, if we may judge from some disparaging425 allusions to Hippias and his lectures in the Protagoras, did Plato at first regard it with any particular favour. He may have acquired some notions of arithmetic and geometry at school; but the intimate acquaintance with, and deep interest in them, manifested throughout his later works, probably dates from his visits to Italy, Sicily, Cyrênê, and Egypt. In each of these places the exact sciences were cultivated with more assiduity than at Athens; in southern Italy they had been brought into close connexion with philosophy by a system of mystical interpretation. The glory of discovering their true speculative significance was reserved for Plato. Just as he had detected a profound analogy between the Socratic scepticism and the Heracleitean flux, so also, by another vivid intuition, he saw in the definitions and demonstrations426 of geometry a type of true reasoning, a particular application of the Socratic logic. Thus the two studies were brought into fruitful reaction, the one gaining a wider applicability, and the other an exacter method of proof. The mathematical spirit ultimately proved211 too strong for Plato, and petrified427 his philosophy into a lifeless formalism; but no extraneous428 influence helped so much to bring about the complete maturity429 of his constructive powers, in no direction has he more profoundly influenced the thought of later ages.
Both the Theaetêtus and the Cratylus contain allusions to mathematical reasoning, but its full significance is first exhibited in the Meno. Here the old question, whether virtue can be taught, is again raised, to be discussed from an entirely new point of view, and resolved into the more general question, Can anything be taught? The answer is, Yes and No. You may stimulate430 the native activity of the intellect, but you cannot create it. Take a totally uneducated man, and, under proper guidance, he shall discover the truths of geometry for himself, by virtue of their self-evident clearness. Being independent of any traceable experience, the elementary principles of this science, of all science, must have been acquired in some antenatal period, or rather they were never acquired at all, they belong to the very nature of the soul herself. The doctrine here unfolded had a great future before it; and it has never, perhaps, been discussed with so much eagerness as during the last half-century among ourselves. The masters of English thought have placed the issue first raised by Plato in the very front of philosophical controversy; and the general public have been brought to feel that their dearest interests hang on its decision. The subject has, however, lost much of its adventitious431 interest to those who know that the à priori position was turned, a hundred years ago, by Kant. The philosopher of K?nigsberg showed that, granting knowledge to be composed of two elements, mind adds nothing to outward experience but its own forms, the system of connexions according to which it groups phenomena. Deprive these forms of the content given to them by feeling, and the soul will be left beating her wings in a vacuum. The doctrine that knowledge is not a212 dead deposit in consciousness or memory, but a living energy whereby phenomena are, to use Kant’s words, gathered up into the synthetic432 unity of apperception, has since found a physiological433 basis in the theory of central innervation. And the experiential school of psychology have simultaneously434 come to recognise the existence of fixed conditions under which consciousness works and grows, and which, in the last analysis, resolve themselves into the apprehension435 of resemblance, difference, coexistence, and succession. The most complex cognition involves no more than these four categories; and it is probable that they all co-operate in the most elementary perception.
The truths here touched on seem to have been dimly present to the mind of Plato. He never doubts that all knowledge must, in some way or other, be derived from experience; and, accordingly, he assumes that what cannot have been learned in this world was learned in another. But he does not (in the Meno at least) suppose that the process ever had a beginning. It would seem that he is trying to express in figurative language the distinction, lost almost as soon as found, between intelligence and the facts on which intelligence is exercised, An examination of the steps by which Meno’s slave is brought to perceive, without being directly told, the truth of the Pythagorean theorem, will show that his share in the demonstration is limited to the intuition of certain numerical equalities and inequalities. Now, to Plato, the perception of sameness and difference meant everything. He would have denied that the sensible world presented examples of these relations in their ideal absoluteness and purity. In tracing back their apprehension to the self-reflection of the soul, the consciousness of personal identity, he would not have transgressed436 the limits of a legitimate437 enquiry. But self-consciousness involved a possible abstraction from disturbing influences, which he interpreted as a real separation between mind and matter; and, to make it more complete, an inde213pendent pre-existence of the former. Nor was this all. Since knowledge is of likeness in difference, then the central truth of things, the reality underlying all appearance, must be an abiding438 identity recognised by the soul through her previous communion with it in a purer world. The inevitable439 tendency of two identities, one subjective and the other objective, was to coalesce in an absolute unity where all distinctions of time and space would have disappeared, carrying the whole mythical machinery440 along with them; and Plato’s logic is always hovering441 on the verge175 of such a consummation without being able fully to accept it. Still, the mystical tendency, which it was reserved for Plotinus to carry out in its entirety, is always present, though restrained by other motives442, working for the ascertainment443 of uniformity in theory and for the enforcement of uniformity in practice.
We have accompanied Plato to a point where he begins to see his way towards a radical444 reconstruction of all existing beliefs and institutions. In the next chapter we shall attempt to show how far he succeeded in this great purpose, how much, in his positive contributions to thought is of permanent, and how much of merely biographical or literary value.
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1 anticipations | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
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2 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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3 filaments | |
n.(电灯泡的)灯丝( filament的名词复数 );丝极;细丝;丝状物 | |
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4 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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5 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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6 maze | |
n.迷宫,八阵图,混乱,迷惑 | |
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7 compensated | |
补偿,报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 ); 给(某人)赔偿(或赔款) | |
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8 coherence | |
n.紧凑;连贯;一致性 | |
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9 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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10 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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11 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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12 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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13 component | |
n.组成部分,成分,元件;adj.组成的,合成的 | |
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14 heterogeneous | |
adj.庞杂的;异类的 | |
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15 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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16 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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17 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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18 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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19 resuscitation | |
n.复活 | |
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20 mischievously | |
adv.有害地;淘气地 | |
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21 perishable | |
adj.(尤指食物)易腐的,易坏的 | |
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22 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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23 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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24 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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25 reprisals | |
n.报复(行为)( reprisal的名词复数 ) | |
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26 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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27 controversy | |
n.争论,辩论,争吵 | |
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28 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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29 consistency | |
n.一贯性,前后一致,稳定性;(液体的)浓度 | |
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30 ridiculed | |
v.嘲笑,嘲弄,奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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32 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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33 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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34 astounding | |
adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊,使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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35 paradox | |
n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法;自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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36 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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37 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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38 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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39 mathematician | |
n.数学家 | |
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40 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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41 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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42 incompatible | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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43 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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44 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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45 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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46 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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47 truthfulness | |
n. 符合实际 | |
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48 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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49 promiscuity | |
n.混杂,混乱;(男女的)乱交 | |
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50 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
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51 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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52 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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53 censure | |
v./n.责备;非难;责难 | |
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54 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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55 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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56 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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57 discredited | |
不足信的,不名誉的 | |
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58 expatiated | |
v.详述,细说( expatiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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60 heresies | |
n.异端邪说,异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
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61 fanaticism | |
n.狂热,盲信 | |
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62 propounded | |
v.提出(问题、计划等)供考虑[讨论],提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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64 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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65 stimulation | |
n.刺激,激励,鼓舞 | |
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66 attentively | |
adv.聚精会神地;周到地;谛;凝神 | |
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67 illusive | |
adj.迷惑人的,错觉的 | |
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68 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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69 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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70 platonic | |
adj.精神的;柏拉图(哲学)的 | |
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71 paradoxes | |
n.似非而是的隽语,看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 );用于语言文学中的上述隽语;有矛盾特点的人[事物,情况] | |
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72 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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73 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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74 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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75 underlying | |
adj.在下面的,含蓄的,潜在的 | |
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76 systematic | |
adj.有系统的,有计划的,有方法的 | |
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77 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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78 unstable | |
adj.不稳定的,易变的 | |
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79 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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80 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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81 second-hand | |
adj.用过的,旧的,二手的 | |
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82 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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83 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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84 authenticity | |
n.真实性 | |
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85 cogent | |
adj.强有力的,有说服力的 | |
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86 expended | |
v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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87 philologists | |
n.语文学( philology的名词复数 ) | |
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88 mathematicians | |
数学家( mathematician的名词复数 ) | |
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89 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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90 unduly | |
adv.过度地,不适当地 | |
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91 biassed | |
(统计试验中)结果偏倚的,有偏的 | |
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92 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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93 contention | |
n.争论,争辩,论战;论点,主张 | |
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94 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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95 impugn | |
v.指责,对…表示怀疑 | |
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96 transformation | |
n.变化;改造;转变 | |
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97 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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98 controverted | |
v.争论,反驳,否定( controvert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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100 chronological | |
adj.按年月顺序排列的,年代学的 | |
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101 modification | |
n.修改,改进,缓和,减轻 | |
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102 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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103 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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104 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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105 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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106 specified | |
adj.特定的 | |
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107 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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108 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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109 memoranda | |
n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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110 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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111 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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112 conversational | |
adj.对话的,会话的 | |
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113 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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114 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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115 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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116 authoritative | |
adj.有权威的,可相信的;命令式的;官方的 | |
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117 embody | |
vt.具体表达,使具体化;包含,收录 | |
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118 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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119 barbarian | |
n.野蛮人;adj.野蛮(人)的;未开化的 | |
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120 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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121 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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122 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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123 organise | |
vt.组织,安排,筹办 | |
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124 predecessors | |
n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 );前辈;(被取代的)原有事物;前身 | |
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125 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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126 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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127 elicit | |
v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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128 sage | |
n.圣人,哲人;adj.贤明的,明智的 | |
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129 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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130 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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131 lamentable | |
adj.令人惋惜的,悔恨的 | |
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132 discriminate | |
v.区别,辨别,区分;有区别地对待 | |
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133 liberating | |
解放,释放( liberate的现在分词 ) | |
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134 disciple | |
n.信徒,门徒,追随者 | |
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135 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136 ascertainable | |
adj.可确定(探知),可发现的 | |
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137 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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138 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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140 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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141 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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142 meddled | |
v.干涉,干预(他人事务)( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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143 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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144 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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145 oligarchic | |
adj.寡头政治的,主张寡头政治的 | |
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146 stimulus | |
n.刺激,刺激物,促进因素,引起兴奋的事物 | |
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147 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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148 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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149 epidemic | |
n.流行病;盛行;adj.流行性的,流传极广的 | |
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150 apparitions | |
n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 );幽灵;鬼;(特异景象等的)出现 | |
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151 immoral | |
adj.不道德的,淫荡的,荒淫的,有伤风化的 | |
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152 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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153 impartial | |
adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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154 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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155 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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156 correlation | |
n.相互关系,相关,关连 | |
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157 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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158 mediation | |
n.调解 | |
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159 regenerated | |
v.新生,再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160 dominant | |
adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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161 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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162 rend | |
vt.把…撕开,割裂;把…揪下来,强行夺取 | |
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163 ratiocination | |
n.推理;推断 | |
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164 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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165 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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166 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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167 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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168 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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169 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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170 remunerative | |
adj.有报酬的 | |
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171 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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172 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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173 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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174 converge | |
vi.会合;聚集,集中;(思想、观点等)趋近 | |
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175 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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176 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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177 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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178 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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179 ambiguity | |
n.模棱两可;意义不明确 | |
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180 ascertaining | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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181 outlet | |
n.出口/路;销路;批发商店;通风口;发泄 | |
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182 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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183 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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184 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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185 reconciliation | |
n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
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186 maligned | |
vt.污蔑,诽谤(malign的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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187 binding | |
有约束力的,有效的,应遵守的 | |
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188 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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189 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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190 enunciated | |
v.(清晰地)发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 );确切地说明 | |
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191 retaliation | |
n.报复,反击 | |
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192 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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193 retaliatory | |
adj.报复的 | |
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194 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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195 provocation | |
n.激怒,刺激,挑拨,挑衅的事物,激怒的原因 | |
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196 sophistry | |
n.诡辩 | |
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197 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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198 disciples | |
n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 );门徒;耶稣的信徒;(尤指)耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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199 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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200 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
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201 rhetoric | |
n.修辞学,浮夸之言语 | |
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202 legerdemain | |
n.戏法,诈术 | |
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203 doctrines | |
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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204 constructive | |
adj.建设的,建设性的 | |
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205 antagonism | |
n.对抗,敌对,对立 | |
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206 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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207 pecuniary | |
adj.金钱的;金钱上的 | |
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208 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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209 hypocrisy | |
n.伪善,虚伪 | |
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210 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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211 diffusion | |
n.流布;普及;散漫 | |
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212 lyric | |
n.抒情诗,歌词;adj.抒情的 | |
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213 contiguity | |
n.邻近,接壤 | |
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214 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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215 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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216 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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217 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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218 calculus | |
n.微积分;结石 | |
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219 computing | |
n.计算 | |
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220 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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221 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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222 professes | |
声称( profess的第三人称单数 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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223 repudiated | |
v.(正式地)否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 );拒绝接受;拒绝与…往来;拒不履行(法律义务) | |
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224 reclaim | |
v.要求归还,收回;开垦 | |
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225 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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226 formulated | |
v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 );规划;确切地阐述;用公式表示 | |
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227 juvenile | |
n.青少年,少年读物;adj.青少年的,幼稚的 | |
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228 arduous | |
adj.艰苦的,费力的,陡峭的 | |
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229 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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230 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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231 kinsmen | |
n.家属,亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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232 competence | |
n.能力,胜任,称职 | |
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233 busts | |
半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 ); 妇女的胸部; 胸围; 突击搜捕 | |
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234 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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235 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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236 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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237 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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238 divination | |
n.占卜,预测 | |
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239 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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240 symposium | |
n.讨论会,专题报告会;专题论文集 | |
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241 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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242 eminence | |
n.卓越,显赫;高地,高处;名家 | |
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243 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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244 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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245 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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246 deficient | |
adj.不足的,不充份的,有缺陷的 | |
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247 oratorical | |
adj.演说的,雄辩的 | |
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248 forte | |
n.长处,擅长;adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
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249 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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250 monologue | |
n.长篇大论,(戏剧等中的)独白 | |
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251 auditor | |
n.审计员,旁听着 | |
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252 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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253 affinities | |
n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 );亲近;(生性)喜爱;类同 | |
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254 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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255 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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256 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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257 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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258 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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259 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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260 embodied | |
v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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261 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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262 publicity | |
n.众所周知,闻名;宣传,广告 | |
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263 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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264 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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265 pusillanimity | |
n.无气力,胆怯 | |
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266 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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267 pessimism | |
n.悲观者,悲观主义者,厌世者 | |
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268 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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269 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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270 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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271 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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272 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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273 sluggish | |
adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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274 mandate | |
n.托管地;命令,指示 | |
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275 demonstration | |
n.表明,示范,论证,示威 | |
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276 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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277 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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278 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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279 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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280 trampled | |
踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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281 repression | |
n.镇压,抑制,抑压 | |
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282 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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283 blasphemy | |
n.亵渎,渎神 | |
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284 revile | |
v.辱骂,谩骂 | |
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285 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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286 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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287 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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288 fatten | |
v.使肥,变肥 | |
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289 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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290 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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291 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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292 procures | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的第三人称单数 );拉皮条 | |
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293 grunts | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说; 石鲈 | |
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294 thwarting | |
阻挠( thwart的现在分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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295 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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296 complimentary | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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297 paragons | |
n.模范( paragon的名词复数 );典型;十全十美的人;完美无缺的人 | |
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298 atrocities | |
n.邪恶,暴行( atrocity的名词复数 );滔天大罪 | |
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299 herd | |
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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300 progenitors | |
n.祖先( progenitor的名词复数 );先驱;前辈;原本 | |
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301 barbarians | |
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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302 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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303 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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304 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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305 redeemed | |
adj. 可赎回的,可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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306 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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307 scathing | |
adj.(言词、文章)严厉的,尖刻的;不留情的adv.严厉地,尖刻地v.伤害,损害(尤指使之枯萎)( scathe的现在分词) | |
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308 infamy | |
n.声名狼藉,出丑,恶行 | |
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309 vilest | |
adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 );可耻的;极坏的;非常讨厌的 | |
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310 spartans | |
n.斯巴达(spartan的复数形式) | |
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311 spartan | |
adj.简朴的,刻苦的;n.斯巴达;斯巴达式的人 | |
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312 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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313 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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314 participation | |
n.参与,参加,分享 | |
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315 disapproval | |
n.反对,不赞成 | |
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316 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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317 covetousness | |
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318 evaded | |
逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 ); 避开; 回避; 想不出 | |
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319 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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320 oligarchy | |
n.寡头政治 | |
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321 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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322 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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323 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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324 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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325 restriction | |
n.限制,约束 | |
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326 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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327 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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328 divergence | |
n.分歧,岔开 | |
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329 instilled | |
v.逐渐使某人获得(某种可取的品质),逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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330 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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331 blasphemous | |
adj.亵渎神明的,不敬神的 | |
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332 iniquity | |
n.邪恶;不公正 | |
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333 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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334 omniscience | |
n.全知,全知者,上帝 | |
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335 illustrating | |
给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 ); 说明; 表明; (用示例、图画等)说明 | |
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336 actively | |
adv.积极地,勤奋地 | |
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337 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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338 ingratitude | |
n.忘恩负义 | |
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339 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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340 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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341 condemnation | |
n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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342 satire | |
n.讽刺,讽刺文学,讽刺作品 | |
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343 dexterous | |
adj.灵敏的;灵巧的 | |
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344 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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345 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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346 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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347 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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348 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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349 warped | |
adj.反常的;乖戾的;(变)弯曲的;变形的v.弄弯,变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 );使(行为等)不合情理,使乖戾, | |
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350 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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351 supervision | |
n.监督,管理 | |
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352 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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353 wield | |
vt.行使,运用,支配;挥,使用(武器等) | |
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354 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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355 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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356 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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357 precluded | |
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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358 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
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359 solvent | |
n.溶剂;adj.有偿付能力的 | |
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360 adherence | |
n.信奉,依附,坚持,固着 | |
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361 puerile | |
adj.幼稚的,儿童的 | |
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362 pedantry | |
n.迂腐,卖弄学问 | |
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363 filibuster | |
n.妨碍议事,阻挠;v.阻挠 | |
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364 embittered | |
v.使怨恨,激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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365 minions | |
n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 );走狗;宠儿;受人崇拜者 | |
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366 charlatans | |
n.冒充内行者,骗子( charlatan的名词复数 ) | |
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367 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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368 auditors | |
n.审计员,稽核员( auditor的名词复数 );(大学课程的)旁听生 | |
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369 ostracism | |
n.放逐;排斥 | |
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370 puritanical | |
adj.极端拘谨的;道德严格的 | |
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371 adviser | |
n.劝告者,顾问 | |
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372 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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373 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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374 illustrate | |
v.举例说明,阐明;图解,加插图 | |
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375 emancipated | |
adj.被解放的,不受约束的v.解放某人(尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚)( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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376 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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377 reconstruction | |
n.重建,再现,复原 | |
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378 avowed | |
adj.公开声明的,承认的v.公开声明,承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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379 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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380 transcending | |
超出或超越(经验、信念、描写能力等)的范围( transcend的现在分词 ); 优于或胜过… | |
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381 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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382 suffuse | |
v.(色彩等)弥漫,染遍 | |
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383 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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384 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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385 Dispersive | |
adj. 分散的 | |
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386 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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387 centripetal | |
adj.向心的 | |
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388 aptitude | |
n.(学习方面的)才能,资质,天资 | |
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389 rhythmical | |
adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
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390 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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391 mythical | |
adj.神话的;虚构的;想像的 | |
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392 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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393 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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394 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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395 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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396 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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397 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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398 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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399 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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400 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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401 arbiter | |
n.仲裁人,公断人 | |
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402 coalesce | |
v.联合,结合,合并 | |
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403 vehement | |
adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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404 adage | |
n.格言,古训 | |
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405 subjective | |
a.主观(上)的,个人的 | |
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406 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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407 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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408 derivative | |
n.派(衍)生物;adj.非独创性的,模仿他人的 | |
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409 auxiliary | |
adj.辅助的,备用的 | |
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410 adherent | |
n.信徒,追随者,拥护者 | |
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411 flux | |
n.流动;不断的改变 | |
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412 irreconcilable | |
adj.(指人)难和解的,势不两立的 | |
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413 conversant | |
adj.亲近的,有交情的,熟悉的 | |
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414 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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415 investigations | |
(正式的)调查( investigation的名词复数 ); 侦查; 科学研究; 学术研究 | |
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416 incipient | |
adj.起初的,发端的,初期的 | |
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417 differentiation | |
n.区别,区分 | |
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418 vein | |
n.血管,静脉;叶脉,纹理;情绪;vt.使成脉络 | |
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419 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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420 ironical | |
adj.讽刺的,冷嘲的 | |
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421 etymology | |
n.语源;字源学 | |
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422 transcribed | |
(用不同的录音手段)转录( transcribe的过去式和过去分词 ); 改编(乐曲)(以适应他种乐器或声部); 抄写; 用音标标出(声音) | |
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423 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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424 sentient | |
adj.有知觉的,知悉的;adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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425 disparaging | |
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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426 demonstrations | |
证明( demonstration的名词复数 ); 表明; 表达; 游行示威 | |
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427 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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428 extraneous | |
adj.体外的;外来的;外部的 | |
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429 maturity | |
n.成熟;完成;(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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430 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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431 adventitious | |
adj.偶然的 | |
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432 synthetic | |
adj.合成的,人工的;综合的;n.人工制品 | |
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433 physiological | |
adj.生理学的,生理学上的 | |
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434 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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435 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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436 transgressed | |
v.超越( transgress的过去式和过去分词 );越过;违反;违背 | |
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437 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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438 abiding | |
adj.永久的,持久的,不变的 | |
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439 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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440 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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441 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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442 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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443 ascertainment | |
n.探查,发现,确认 | |
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444 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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