As I have already briefly7 contended, our recent experience furnishes a very ghastly confirmation8 of this suspicion. The British Empire will survive the dangers that beset9 it, though it will be deeply impaired10 economically, for two fundamental reasons: the Allies have double the population of the Central European Powers, and they have, including in this respect the United States, far larger ultimate resources in material and money. The fact that we do eventually muddle11 through will, one fears, content the majority of our people, but the thoughtful patriot12 will ask two questions. How many hundred millions has our slowness in mobilising our resources cost us, by protracting13 the war? And what is likely to be the fate of the British Empire if, with a similar slackness, it has at some later date to meet a numerically equal and far more alert enemy?
Let me briefly recount the facts which show that our national business has been grossly mismanaged. Can any person look back on all the facts which are now public property and say that our soldiers and statesmen were innocent in not perceiving the grave possibility of war with Germany at any time in the last three years? That, however, will scarcely be said: the readiness of our fleet is a sufficient reply. We know further that the general character of the war was foreseen. England was to help France and Belgium, on French or Belgian soil. England’s co-operation on land was, as events have shown, vitally necessary. Yet the unpreparedness of Britain for a great continental15 campaign was entirely16 scandalous. No doubt there would have been a risk in openly enlarging the army or creating great stores of material. Germany would, in its unamiable way, have asked questions. Tender-hearted Members of Parliament would have denounced our provocative18 proceedings19. But a preparation of plans, a census20 of our resources, a scheme for the immediate21 enlistment23 of the business-ability of the country and the full use of all our industrial machinery24—these and a dozen other most important measures could have been taken in this country as safely and secretly as they were in Germany. Not only were they not taken, but the military preparations were actually relaxed. It has transpired25, and is not disputed, that our great Arsenal26 was only partially27 occupied; and Mr. A. Chamberlain has publicly stated that Kynochs had for the year 1914—the expected year of war—a Government order two-thirds less than they are capable of executing in a week, and do now execute in a week.
The second fact is the remarkable29 failure to forecast the conditions of the war. If it be urged that a layman30 cannot judge how far such a failure is culpable31, the answer is prompt: the German authorities, who had had no more experience of war than we, did forecast the conditions. Their minute and energetic elaboration of the whole scheme of the war contrasts extraordinarily32 with the sluggish33 and conventional ease of our authorities.
The third and gravest fact is our appalling34 and costly35 slowness in mobilising our resources when the war began. Six months after the outbreak of war I went over a very large engineering shop in the north. Out of hundreds of men only a score or two were engaged on war-material: and one of the two objects on which this mere36 handful of men were engaged has proved to be wholly valueless. At that time, and for months afterwards, the workers of Britain were encouraged in their easy ways, and the bulk of the manufacturers were encouraged to go on with their usual business, by official assurances that no greater effort was needed. When our disgusted soldiers sent us a message that, not “the weather,” but a scandalous shortage of ammunition37 and machine-guns kept them back, the Prime Minister, quoting the “highest available authority,” publicly declared this to be untrue. We were asked rather to admire the way in which we had dispatched the greatest expeditionary force known in history: as if the enormous progress of modern times did not make this superiority a matter of course. When criticism increased, we cried for the gag and the public prosecutor38, and we garlanded the portraits of the very men who had disgraced us; and we agreed to the retention39 or promotion40 of incompetent41 men, on obvious party-grounds.
Happily one minister had the grit42 and patriotism43 to call to his aid a group of business-men, and the facts could no longer be concealed44. Mr. Lloyd George admitted that since the beginning of the war, we had increased a thousandfold our production of munitions45, yet were still far behind the Germans and far short of our needs; and at last, eleven months after the outbreak of war, we began to organise46, or at least to ascertain47, our resources. Again we loudly congratulated ourselves on our energy. We cried shame on all critics and pessimists49 and people who wanted more. We fancied ourselves in the character of Atlas50, taking the whole burden on our massive shoulders, to spare our weaker Allies. But the sinister51 light which this late increase of output threw on the first six months, or more, of indolent incompetence52 was quite disregarded. We genially53 overlooked the fact that the delay of our advance was costing us nearly a hundred millions a month. We allowed less prominent affairs to be conducted with the same indolent insufficiency. The most absurdly inadequate54 measures were taken to control the prices of food and coal, and scarcely a thought was given to the tremendous economic problem which will confront us when the war is over, or to the means of recouping ourselves by a systematic55 promotion of our oversea-trade.
In a word, the magnificent organisation56 and ordered national devotion of the German people make the conduct of England during the first year of the war seem clumsy, lazy, and full of danger for the future. For this the chief blame quite obviously falls on our statesmen. English soldiers have at least been second to none in the field: English artisans have, since the need was acknowledged, worked magnificently. It is the directing brain that was sluggish and incompetent. The magnitude of the sudden task does not excuse our rulers, nor does the very large service that was actually done—which I do not for a moment overlook—lessen the scandal. If a political machine does not know how to enlarge itself in less than twelve months to meet a new and very urgent task, especially a task that it ought to have foreseen, it is unfit to control our national destiny. Our governmental system has proved itself most dangerously and mischievously57 unfit to meet such a national emergency, and this catastrophic experience may encourage the reader to examine with patience the criticisms which I propose to pass on it.
Here again we submit to the tyranny of a largely obsolete58 tradition. When the story of the development of human institutions can be written with a detachment of which we are yet incapable59, one of the strangest pages will be that which tells of the evolution of Church and State. From the early days when some exceptionally powerful warrior60 is raised on his shield and saluted61 as chief or king, and when some weird62 individual earns the repute of being able to control or propitiate63 the mighty64 powers of the environing world, government and religion steadily65 advance to a commanding position in the life of the people. The two men of power, the king and the priest, must have establishments in accord with their value to the tribe, and the palace and the temple rise in spacious66 dignity above the mean cluster of huts. Time after time the race turns to examine the tradition which has been so deeply impressed on it, and kings and gods are cast from their thrones; but new dynasties always arise. Of Rome, no less than of Thebes or Nineveh, it is the monuments of kings and gods that survive. Only a few centuries ago the European city consisted mainly of two institutions: the palace and the cathedral. The bulk of the citizens huddled67 in squalid fever-stricken houses beyond the fringe of the estates of their secular68 and priestly rulers.
The modern age, with its inconvenient69 questions and its bold speech, arrives. Commerce develops, and the palace and cathedral disappear, in the forest of soaring buildings. When the roofs of the new commerce and the new commoner rise to a level with the roof of the palace or the cathedral, when men are no longer overshadowed by the old powers, the imagination is released. The divine right of kings goes in a fury of revolutionary flame: kings must henceforth rule by human right and answer at a human tribunal, which is more exacting71 and alert than the old tribunal. Yet the power of the dead tradition is amazing. In England men still bow reverently72 when the king addresses them as “my subjects” and talks of “my empire”: still crown every entertainment, spiritual or gastronomic73, with fervent74 aspirations75 which would lead an ill-informed spectator to imagine that they regarded the king’s health as mystically connected with the health of the nation: still describe bishops76 and the heads of families which have been sufficiently77 long idle and wealthy as their “lords.”
These archæological survivals are, no doubt, innocuous, if irritating. The more serious feature is that they help to make so many people insensible of the miserable78 compromises we endure in our reorganised State. They are part of that superabundant ash which clogs79 and dulls the fire of the nation’s life. The nineteenth century, rightly and inevitably80, adopted a democratic scheme of public administration. It was seen that, if the king were not so close a friend of the Almighty81 as had been supposed, there was no visible reason why the destinies of the nation should be entrusted82 to his judgment83: which was, as a rule, not humanly impressive. Luckily, certain nations had won the right to do a good deal of talking before the king came to a decision, or the right to hold Parliaments, and Europe generally adopted this model. The Parliament House now towered upward in the city, and it did the real business of directing the nation’s affairs. The king became a kind of grand seal for the measures enacted84 by Parliament. Some nations, the number of which is increasing, regarded the seal as a costly and avoidable luxury, and abolished it: some kept the king, with all his stately language and pretty robes and sparkling jewellery, and abolished the “lords”: some kept the king and the lords, but deprived them of real power. The English nation, which is famous for its common-sense, its audacity85, and its ability, belongs to the last group. It invented that remarkable phrase, “self-government”: which ingeniously preserves the fiction that someone has a right to govern other people, yet conciliates the modern spirit by intimating that the people really govern their governors.
Into the extraordinary confusion of forms and formulæ which has resulted from this compromise it would be waste of time to enter. Does it really matter that we allow our king to put on our coins a flattering portrait of himself, with an intimation that he rules as “by the grace of God”? He is quite conscious that he rules us—if his melodramatic relation to us may be called ruling—on the understanding that he never contradicts us. We are not now knocked on the head, except by an intoxicated86 patriot, if we refuse to stand while our neighbours chant their insincere incantation about his health: we go, not to the Tower, but to the ordinary law-court, if we mention his personal frailties87; and the portentous88 seriousness with which he takes his robes and his formulæ injures none, and amuses many. No doubt, slovenly89 mental habits are always to be deplored90, yet these things are not in themselves important enough to be included in a list of serious reforms. What we do need to examine critically is this scheme of self-government by which we now manage our national affairs: very badly, it appears.
This political machinery is divided into two sections: municipal government and national government. The former, from which every element of “government” except the name has departed, need not be considered at length. It consists of groups of citizens who are understood to excel in public spirit and self-sacrifice, so that they devote a large part of their time to the unpaid92 service of their fellow-citizens. Every few years a man, of whom you had probably never heard before, calls to implore93 you, with a quite painful humility94 and courtesy, to allow him to discharge this self-denying function. The next day another man, of whom also you had never heard before, calls to inform you, in discreet95 language, that his rival is a spendthrift, a rogue96, or a fool; and that he is the man to represent you with due regard to economy and with absolute disinterestedness97. You probably refrain from voting for either, since you have not the abundant leisure of a libel-court. Your streets will somehow get paved, and your children schooled, and you will pay the bill. But you may discover after a time that the air is thick with charges of “jobbery,” or that some local councillor has been promoted to the higher and more lucrative99 political world on the ground of “many years’ experience of local administration.”
If you happen to live in the Metropolis100, where the intelligence of the nation is clotted101, so to say, you find municipal life even more complex than this. The eager rivals who solicit102 the honour of doing your work for nothing are divided into bitterly hostile schools. Each school spends hundreds of thousands of pounds in a periodical effort to convince you that the other school is going to swindle you. Each plasters the wall with repulsive103 typical portraits of its exponents104, and you see yourself depicted105 as a weak and amiable17, but small-witted, figure (or, perhaps, as a burly and very stupid-looking farmer), whose pockets are being picked. Each produces a most exact statistical106 proof that its opponents have actually picked your pockets, and that the “reds” or “blues” are the only people with a really disinterested98 desire to spend some hours every day in the gratuitous107 discharge of public duties. They spend great sums of money every few years for the purpose of securing this thankless burden and facing the vituperation of their opponents. You seek illumination in the press, and you find, in rival journals, a mass of contradictory108 statements and mutual109 accusations110 of lying. However, the system is thoroughly111 British in its encouragement of individual action and public spirit, and you overtook all the direct and indirect corruption112 it fosters.
What is a man to do? One can at least search very rigorously the credentials114 and the public action of the man who “solicits your vote,” and encourage the appearance of really independent and fine-spirited men and women. I have, naturally, described the broad features and general abuses of the system, but there are, of course, large numbers of men in it who are sincerely disinterested. In the main, however, municipal politics is tainted115 and complicated by the party-system of the large political world, and to this we may turn.
That section of the political machine which controls national affairs is obviously of the first importance. On its working rests the grave issue of peace or war; to it is entrusted, in the last resort, the great task of educating the nation; and through it alone can we secure any of those numerous reforms which are to undo116 the tyranny of shams117 and abolish so much avoidable misery118 and confusion. One ought therefore to be gratified to see how large a place politics occupies in the public mind, which is otherwise so little inclined to serious matters, and in the public press, which so faithfully mirrors the thought of the nation: to see how the prominent or eloquent119 politician surpasses in public esteem120 the greatest artist or scientist, and even rivals in popularity the prettiest actress of the hour: to see that four-fifths of our public honours are reserved for politicians and statesmen, and for those less gifted but more wealthy men who give them practical support. Unhappily, when one looks closely into this apotheosis121 of politics, one finds that its merit is merely superficial: that a very large proportion of the more thoughtful people in every civilised community look on politics with disdain122, and that some of the more independent of our politicians confess that one must almost lay aside one’s honesty and ideals on entering the political world.
A series of grave struggles and threats of civil war in the first half of the nineteenth century inaugurated the present political phase in Europe. It transpired after Waterloo that the English parliamentary system, in which our statesmen took such pride, was a hollow and corrupt113 sham48. A comparatively few wealthy landowners controlled the nation, and bought votes for their nominees123. After some years of agitation124 the working men of the great manufacturing centres formed armies and threatened to force the doors of Westminster at the point of the pike. This elicited125 a system of restricted, but real, popular representation. Later enlargements of the franchise126 improved the system, and to-day some six or seven million adult males elect our legislators. Until recently this scheme was largely frustrated127 by the power of a non-elected House to suppress any measure which did not please a privileged minority, but this is now materially modified. Six million free and adult representatives of the nation appoint and control the men who make our laws, and direct the king how to act.
But in practice this admirable theory becomes a mockery and an illusion. It may be taken as a Euclidean postulate128 that out of six million people of any civilised nation four or five millions will be—shall we say?—somnolent: not from want of brain, but from want of constant exercise of it. A very earnest idealist of the last century, Mr. George Jacob Holyoake, proposed that, for the great efficiency of our political machinery, every elector should, before he received a vote, be compelled to pass an examination in political economy and constitutional history. Since few Members of Parliament, to say nothing of voters, would have passed the examination, the proposal was rejected, and the education of the voter was left to the interested political parties and to the press which supported them, or was supported by them. The result was that two rival organisations, roughly corresponding to the two attitudes of the modern mind toward new ideas (progressive and conservative), gradually increased in wealth and power until they were able to control the electorate129 and exclude from representation every finer shade of political thought. The machinery by which this is done does not leap to the eyes, as the French say, and the average elector proudly contrasts our political system with that of most other nations.
Candidly130, we may take some pride in the contrast. The struggles and sacrifices of our fathers have won for us a system which is far superior to that which has hitherto prevailed in Russia, to the despotic medievalism of Prussia, to the grave insincerity of Spanish political life, to the confusion and occasional corruption of French or Italian politics, to the remarkable activity which precedes a presidential election in the United States. Our political life is relatively133 free from large corruption. I happened to be in New Zealand when the “Marconi Scandal” was agitating134 England, and I remember politicians of that progressive little land smiling at the word “scandal” and hinting that they were more adventurous135. Some of our discontent is, no doubt, due to women writers who magnify the evil in order to persuade us to enlist22 their refining influence. I do not, in fact, think that Mr. Belloc and Mr. Cecil Chesterton have proved some of the graver charges which they brought in their indictment136 of our “servile State.” It will need something more than a list of matrimonial connections to persuade us that Mr. Lloyd George and Mr. Winston Churchill were in the habit of meeting, amiably137 and clandestinely138, Mr. Bonar Law and Mr. F. E. Smith for the collusive arrangement of our laws.
Yet there is enough in the familiar criticisms of our political machinery to justify139 one in saying that the political sham is, even now, intolerable. What, candidly, is the procedure? A general election is announced, and two men call, or send agents, to solicit the honour of representing you in Parliament. In the district in which I write at the moment one candidate is a wealthy and muddle-headed Liberal: the other is a wealthy and (politically) equally muddle-headed Conservative. Neither of them has the remotest idea of representing my national wishes,—they would blush to be suspected of it,—and neither has ever spoken in Parliament; so I have never yet voted.
But I am an eccentric man. Let us take a normal case. You notice, as a rule, that during the few years before the election a wealthy man has been openly suffered, or directed from his party-headquarters, to “nurse” the constituency. Hundreds will cast votes for him solely140 because they fear a withdrawal141 of his subscriptions142 to their chapels143 and football clubs, and of his open-handed philanthropy. As the election approaches, another candidate appears. He also is, as a rule, a wealthy man, and he spends between one and two thousand pounds in disturbing the judgment and inflaming144 the emotions of the voters. Pictorial145 posters, which might have adorned146 the walls of some Pyrenean cavern147 in the Old Stone Age, are massed near the doors of some dark “committee room” or spread over the town. The brain struggles feebly with the contradictory statements of orators148 and journals. And on the day of the election the two wealthy rivals for the honour of printing M.P. on their cards, and the duty of voting as they are directed by their superiors, flood the district, although it has an excellent tram-service, with expensive cars and carriages, to take the tired working man to the poll.
Possibly one of the candidates is not a wealthy man, and you begin to speculate on the source of his thousand pounds, or even three hundred pounds. Very few voters do inquire, of course; most of them would be surprised to know how much a man spends in soliciting149 the honour of representing them—he has usually a great contempt for them—in Parliament. The more inquisitive150 voter, however, would discover that the poorer candidate is in a special sense the representative of a particular party, and he would touch the fringe of a peculiar and ingenious system. I happened one day to mention to a friend certain advanced opinions of a Member of Parliament. “That,” he said grimly, “will interest my father-in-law; he finances Mr. ——.” Through the party-organisation this wealthy and highly respectable manufacturer paid the election expenses and part of the income—Members of Parliament had not then a salary—of candidates or Members in various remote towns. The manufacturer, or the various manufacturers who do this sort of thing, will eventually be knighted or baronetted; their sons will have a chance of a secretaryship, or even of Cabinet rank. The secretly subsidised Member will go to Westminster, an automatic voter. In fact, since a candidate must generally have the sanction of the central organisation of one or other party before he can venture to solicit votes, even wealth does not usually relieve him of the party-tyranny.
What, then, is the party? It is not so much a creed151 as a wealthy and powerful organisation. Once it was a group of men who happened to have the same ideas. By a natural evolution of organisation—one sees the same thing in the evolution of Churches—it has become rather a machine for impressing those ideas on men. In a sense, it is an oligarchy152. We must remember such facts as the dismissal of Mr. Balfour, and the powerlessness of Mr. Asquith to get rid of a certain Minister whom he disliked. The power of the front-benchers is not absolute. But on the whole the party is an aristocracy of wealthy men, titled men, and able men, which rules the country for a term of years. Its leading agents are the Ministers and Whips: the body of the party is an association for carrying out its will, and for adding the attractions of parochial entertainment and cheap club-life to the more austere153 cult154 of ideas. Its revenue is, to a great extent, secret; but the annual lists of honours reveal very plainly that it conducts an unblushing traffic in such things. The reasons allied155 in the published list are often too ludicrous for words. Privately156 one can often ascertain the exact price.
With this wealth the party-aristocracy controls the electoral campaign and the elected Members. It has, further, at its disposal a large number of highly paid positions, or functions which lead to highly paid positions, or profitable little occasional jobs, or political pensions, or a Civil List (which is grossly abused), and so on. These it dangles157 before the eyes of impecunious158 or ambitious critics. Here are two facts within my slender personal knowledge of these matters. A very influential159 Socialist160 (my informant) was invited to a small dinner of the party-aristocrats and diplomatically informed that he might be useful in office: another drastic critic was assured by a Cabinet Minister, through a mutual friend (my informant), that nothing would be done for him until he ceased to criticise161.
The system is, on both sides of the House, corrupt, demoralising, and intensely prejudicial to the interests of the country. We found its danger during the South African War, and we perceive it far more plainly to-day. What ought to be the brightest intellectual fire in the land is sluggish, choked with ash, served often with inferior material. The permanent departments of State which depend on it are correspondingly sluggish. In an emergency it—after a humiliating trial of its own ability—turns to business-men. Its whole tradition and procedure are abominable162. Men who are poor and independent may bruise163 their shins on the doors in vain. Men of no ability are promoted, even to peerages and the Cabinet, because their fathers contributed much to the party’s purse or prestige, and they themselves will at least be loyal. Men who raise critical voices in the House are snubbed and suppressed: men who criticise outside are safely ignored. The ablest and the most sincere men in the party—men like Sir Edward Grey and Mr. Lloyd George—acquiesce in all this.
The electoral system and the procedure of the House of Commons are designed to protect this monstrous164 scheme. The large fee which is exacted of candidates and the very large sums which wealthy men are allowed to spend on elections intimidate165 able and independent, but impecunious, men. The election is spread over a week or two in order to give wealthy men, who may be relied upon to support the constitutional parties, an opportunity of voting in several constituencies, and in order that Ministers may give more aid to their weaker supporters. For the polling-day Saturday is avoided as much as possible, because on that day a larger percentage of the workers would vote, and they are apt to vote against the constitutional parties. Cars and carriages are permitted because the candidates of the workers will easily be surpassed in this well-known advantage by candidates of the great parties. Minorities are hopelessly excluded from representation, such as they would have under a system of proportional representation, because they would send to the House a number of independent Members who would disturb all the calculations of the Whip and all the tricks of party-government. Under a system of proportional representation it would be quite easy for some scores of able and earnest men to secure election at very small cost, by merely circulating declarations of their views; but this, or a grave increase of the Labour Members, would wreck166 the party-system, and therefore the most democratic of our orthodox politicians maintain all the abuses and injustices167 of our system.
The division of constituencies is further designed to protect this iniquitous169 and corrupt scheme. Universities, the City of London, and boroughs170 like Durham, Bury St. Edmunds, and Montgomery—each of which has a population of less than 17,000 souls—have an equal right to one unit of representation in Parliament with Wandsworth, the Romford division of Essex, or the Harrow division of Middlesex, each of which has more than a quarter of a million inhabitants. Eighty-three constituencies, most of them having a large proportion of the more intelligent workers, have a population of more than 100,000 each: forty-four constituencies have a population of less than 40,000 each. In other words, half the people of England and Wales elect 167 Members of Parliament: the other, and notoriously less intelligent half, elect 323 Members of Parliament.
From Gladstone downwards171 even our most “democratic” statesmen have acquiesced172 in these enormities of our electoral system; and they have meantime expended173 much eloquence174 on the injustice168 of the Prussian system, and have expressed ardent175 hopes for the emancipation176 of the people of Italy, or Bulgaria, or Persia, or some other remote land. Yet these features of our electoral scheme are retained solely in order to protect the party-system: to keep in the hands of a group, which is largely hereditary177 and is at all events a small and jealous caste, all the prestige and emoluments178 of the higher positions. Even the grave peril179 of a national catastrophe180, owing to this restriction181 of power and responsibility to a group of moderate talent, does not shake their tradition. We shall, when this war is over, see them resist reform as energetically as ever.
Within the House of Commons itself a mass of old rules and customs are maintained for the same purpose. The hours of work are still arranged on the old supposition, that a Member of Parliament is a man who, with great self-sacrifice, devotes a large part of his time gratuitously182 to the service of his country. The most important work in the nation’s economy is relegated183 to the hours when every healthy man is disposed to rest and recreate himself: indeed, the more important the issue at stake, the more certain it is to be discussed during the worst working hours out of the twenty-four. One has only to glance at our legislators on their benches after dinner to realise the significance of it. The majority of them are plainly reconciled to the theory that the heads of the party have done the necessary work during the day: their business is to keep sufficiently awake to vote correctly.
The arrangement of business is not less iniquitous. The Ministry184 decides that certain measures of reform are needed, either in the interest of the people or in their own interest, and, since they have an assured majority of “Ayes,” the lengthy185 debate is almost superfluous186. The passing of the measure has been secured in advance, or it would not be put forward. The rare event of miscalculation, and the still rarer event of independent action, need not be regarded. No Member is, even in these cases, influenced by the long and tiring speeches which are made about the matter. At one time the debates had a certain elocutionary elegance187, at least; now they represent an unattractive sham-fight, and abuse is being increasingly substituted for rhetoric188. The most paltry189 trickery is employed on both sides, because every man is aware that his speech is really addressed to his followers190 outside the House, and he must, in the House, rely on quite other devices than eloquence. Yet all this pseudo-gravity is lightened occasionally by sittings in which some measure of the greatest importance, but not introduced by the Government, is treated as flippantly as it would be in a humorous debate during a long sea-voyage.
If a man is instructed by his constituents191 to represent in the House some special need of theirs, or some public reform which has millions to support it, he finds that “the rules of the House,” or the rules of the oligarchy, will not allow him to introduce it. A very small fraction of the time of the House is granted for the discussion of such proposals; but the debate is farcical, and is often looked forward to in advance as such, because everybody knows what will be the issue, even if a majority of the House really favours the proposal. Measures of grave social importance, like women-suffrage, have been arbitrarily crushed by the oligarchs for thirty years,—as early as 1886 women-suffrage had 343 supporters on the benches,—and this tyranny and injustice of a few ministers have led to the most violent and bitter recrimination.
This is the political machinery to which we entrust the most dedicate and momentous192 issues of our national life, and to which we have to look for the realisation of our most treasured hopes of reform. The impartial193 critic will not question that there are men in the political world as eager for reform as he, or that during the last half-century some excellent social legislation has been passed. These measures are, however, due in great part to a studied endeavour to retain or gain support in the country,—the Insurance Act, for instance,—and many of them—relating to the sale of cigarettes, to the admission of children into public-houses, to the flogging of procurers—are small sentimental194 reforms which occupy time that could be better employed. We think that we open a new epoch195 of civilisation196 when we give a very small pension to a very aged14 worker, but the problem of the roots of poverty or the abolition197 of warfare198 does not enter the party-programme. Our bishops enthuse over their success in inducing a complaisant199 Home Secretary to lay the lash200 on the backs of a sordid201 little group of criminals, and even offer to roll up their own lawn sleeves for the job; but they are indifferent, or hostile, when other people would induce our Ministers to amend202 those brutalities of our marriage-laws which tend to foster prostitution.
This political machine must be radically203 and comprehensively reformed before it can be a fit instrument for the reform of the nation. All the pyrotechnic distractions204 and gross irregularities of an election must be suppressed: all plural205 voting must be abolished: the comedy of cars for feeble voters must be forbidden: all indirect bribery206, either of voters or candidates, must be rigorously punished. Candidates must put a simple and sober statement of their views and proposals before the electorate, and no further expense should be permitted. Some system of proportional representation and secondary elections should ensure that large minorities would not be entirely without representation. The election should be confined to one day, preferably a Sunday, and stripped of all melodramatic nonsense and occasion for corruption.
The party-system will, no doubt, long survive in English political life. Within twenty years or so the word “Conservative” will, as in other countries, pass out of use, and the Conservative elements will unite under the banner of “Liberalism,” in opposition207 to “Labour.” It is, of course, the dread208 of this issue which at present unites the constitutional parties in opposing reform. One can, by studying advancing countries, even foresee a next phase. The Conservative elements will unite in a “Labour” party against the Socialists209; and in the dim future we may, like Anatole France, foresee a Socialist commonwealth210 established and an Anarchist211 party furiously assailing it.
But, though the party-system be retained (very much modified by proportional representation), this disgusting sale of honours and offices, this oligarchic212 tyranny over the House and the constituencies, will not survive. Reform of the electoral procedure will enable a large group of independent men—independent of the large parties—to enter Parliament, and the removal of the Irish and other Members, who concentrate on a single issue and are willing to traffic on other issues, will reduce the old majorities. I do not doubt that fresh complications will arise. The weakness of proportional representation is that it will certainly lead to a number of sectarian groups. “We Catholics” will, of course, return Catholic Members, ready to sell their votes on various issues in the interest of the sect91; and the Baptists and Methodists, and so on, will be tempted213 to retort. We shall have a teetotal group, and a Puritan group, and an anti-wallpaper group, etc. We must hope that the sterner education of the electorate will secure that these trivialities do not endanger grave national interests. The dissolution of the old Conservative party will leave the Liberal party unable to defend its abuses; it will have no opportunity of collusion or retaliation214. So we may have in time a political machine—a body of men, appointing their own leaders, soberly chosen by each 100,000 of the population, regarding Parliament as a grave national council, not a theatre for the display, of wit and rhetoric—which will effectively carry out the will of an advancing people and enlist the interest of the most thoughtful.
I am in all this assuming that sex-barriers and privileges will be entirely abolished, but I prefer to discuss the position of woman in its entirety in a later chapter. It must be explained, however, that in taking 100,000 as a unit of representation, I am contemplating215 an electorate of thirteen or fourteen million voters. Something between a hundred and two hundred Members of Parliament are surely sufficient, and would make a much more practical and alert body than our present stuffy216, sleepy, and overcrowded House.
It seems very doubtful if a Second Chamber28, in any form, is a real social need. A House of “Lords” is, of course, an insufferable anomaly and medieval survival. It is amazing that this hereditary transmission of titles—and such titles!—and wealth has so long survived the stinging raillery that men like Thackeray poured on it long ago: it is still more amazing when we measure the intelligence and public spirit of our “lords.” Even if we weed out the less intelligent, or those whose interest in horses or actresses or theology is more conspicuous217 than their interest in the nation’s affairs, it is preposterous218 that such a body should retain the least control of a properly elected House of Commons. We may trust that before many decades all hereditary titles will be abolished, and this will demolish219 at once the name and the more offensive part of the character of the Second House. The idea that because one had a distinguished220 or fortunate or unscrupulous ancestor, or one has large estates or an American wife, one is fitted to control our legislators, is too ludicrous for discussion. It is sometimes pleaded that they “have a large stake in the country.” One may surely reply, not only that they would do well to have their large stake more ably represented, but that poverty has an even greater and more pressing right to representation.
As to the bishops, it is still more difficult to discover why they are allowed to control secular legislation. They have been chosen for certain doctrinal and administrative221 functions, partly because of their ability to discharge those functions, partly because they had a convenient income, and partly because they could command political or domestic influence. But even the men who have earned a mitre because they were admirably fitted to wear it, and could hold together a large group of clergy222 with conflicting doctrinal ideas, are not obviously qualified223 for the work of legislation. Their record in the legislative224 assembly is deplorable. They have for ages blessed our militarist and bellicose225 traditions. They have, in their own interest, resisted nearly every important social reform until recent years, and even now they display a keen social sense only when there is question of flogging a few score of perverts226, or something of that kind. They have no place in a modern political system, and their presence in it is an anachronistic227 reminder228 of the time when they monopolised education.
Another element of our Second Chamber consists of men who have been promoted from the First Chamber, generally in order to watch the interest of their party, or made peers for public service or service to the party. The various creatures of the party are one of the abuses we have to correct. Even the others are of questionable229 value. Is Lord Morley more judicious230, or more alive to the highest interests of the nation and the race, than the Right Honourable231 John Morley was? Does age give wisdom to Lord Gladstone, or did it enhance that of Lord Roberts? Is it not a fact that nine men out of ten adopt a sluggish and reluctant attitude in age, and are unfitted to deal with the proposals of middle-aged232 men? There is, at all events, occasion for very careful discrimination, whereas our present practice is to reward, indiscriminately, a supposed merit or a service rendered to the party with a seat in the “Upper” House.
The third class of peers calls for the same observation. Success in manufacture or finance or law, or a willingness to give large sums to the party-funds, is not an obvious qualification for controlling legislation. While these men are in the prime of their vigour233 and judgment the nation dispenses234 entirely with their services. We invite their co-operation in the national business when they are understood to be too old and inelastic to attend any longer to their less important commercial concerns. It is, in fact, impossible to frame a really impressive plea for a Second Chamber of any description. I venture to say that if an historical inquiry235 were made into the services rendered by Second Chambers236 since the beginning of the parliamentary system, it would be found that they have rendered little or no real service, while they have obstructed237 the work of reform in every land. Their record—the first thing we ought to consult—condemns them emphatically. If the Members of a Second Chamber are not elected by the people, they invariably consult class-interests: if they are elected, they, as one sees in Australia, are superfluous.
This political system is completed by the royal assent238 to Bills and the royal power to choose Ministers. The former is now an idle form: the latter is an intolerable abuse. If the people are self-governed, the leading agents in the Government are Ministers of the people, not of the king. The Members of Parliament ought to choose the Ministers. Kingship is a medieval survival, and it is inconsistent with a clear and practical conception of the nation’s business to retain these archaic239 forms and institutions. The trend of political evolution is visibly from kingdoms to republics. A “monarch240” in the twentieth century is as anachronistic as a “lord”; an hereditary monarch is an outrage241 of modern sentiments. Once more, we need to test the institution by its historical merits or demerits.
Many people seem to regard our Constitution much as certain lowly tribes regard the mysterious stone which has dropped from heaven amongst them. Some even of our politicians display a kind of fetishistic terror if a measure is projected that seems to them to infringe242 or enlarge our Constitution. They brandish243 their spears before the idol244 and talk of shedding their blood in its defence. They are at times “Balliol Scholars,” or something of that kind, yet one would suppose that they were quite unaware245 how our Constitution arose, and what plain and indisputable right we have to revise and improve it. It is a sort of ancient mansion246 to which a modern owner has added billiard-rooms and workshops and a garage. But it has assuredly not the æsthetic charm of a medieval building, and this age of ours needs to reconsider, if not reconstruct, it. It will be a fine day for England when we have a Royal Commission sitting in judgment on our Constitution: calmly discussing, amongst other matters, the expediency247 of asking the throne to retire on half-pay, and all its parasites248 to retire on no pay.
I have already described the changes which are likely to occur in that large political structure, the Empire. The various regions of the earth which constitute it cling together on the understanding that we are quite insincere when we talk of them as our “possessions.” It is a federation249 of free nations, bound together by thinning ties of blood and by the advantage of a collective defence. When the military system is abandoned there will merely be a somewhat faded and amiable sentiment uniting the imperial fragments to each other more closely than to their nearer neighbours. One may hope that they will remain united, for a large empire is a good thing, if it has large ideals: it is a university of civilisation. But unless we purge250 our correspondence of archaic forms the “Colonies” may grow impatient. The Colonial of the third generation, and often of the second, has very little respect for England. Candid131 Australians would make some of our Imperialists tremble with concern. Our colonial “governors,” of course, report that loyalty251 is undiminished, because a few hundred families in Melbourne and Sydney press with undiminished snobbishness252 to their garden-parties. These ornamental253 nonentities254 ought to be withdrawn255. Perfect sincerity132 in our relations with the Colonies will do most to maintain the federation. The splendid co-operation of Australia and Canada in the war has shown that we have little to fear.
India and Egypt form a special problem, complicated by the fact that, in their condition of dependence256, they are large and nutritious257 fields for the employment of our sons. It would, however, be foolish to ignore the great change that is taking place in them. Hindus tell me that, when Lord Morley became Secretary of State, the advanced Nationalists sent him a private message to the effect that they would co-operate with a humanitarian258 like him; and he snubbed them. A very large proportion of them are beyond the stage of being impressed by durbars, and are impatient that the masses should be kept in that childlike state of mind. We set up a fictitious259 “Oriental imagination,” and try to make the Orientals live down to it. The example of China and Japan ought to have destroyed our illusions about “the East.” The difference is one of culture, which may at any time be changed. We shall have to deal more frankly260 and generously with Egypt and India, or else cease to rail at Prussian or Russian despotism.
However, Imperialism261 is not a grave or pressing problem. The Empire will run its destined262 evolutionary70 course. For us the grave matter is the corruption which clogs our political machine and the perverse263 tradition which prevents the multitude from seeing it. The awarding of honours and lucrative positions should be withdrawn entirely from politicians, because, even if we compelled them to publish accounts, they would still add to their resources or prestige by this inveterate264 traffic. The king might at least render us the service of purifying this department of national life: perhaps have a list prepared by the Privy265 Council and checked by independent inquiry. I remember how Sir Leslie Stephen told me that he shrank from being added to the inglorious list of mayors who had entertained princes or coal-owners who had financed elections or built chapels. This would cut one of the chief roots of our present political corruption, but we need to press for a thorough education of the people. It must realise that the political machine is dangerously clogged266 and sluggish: that its “democratic” character is a sham: and that its energy is wasted on measures which are insignificant267 in comparison with the mighty tasks of education, pacification268, and industrial organisation which it ought to undertake.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
advantageous
|
|
| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
contentious
|
|
| adj.好辩的，善争吵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
illustrates
|
|
| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
assailing
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的现在分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
entrust
|
|
| v.信赖，信托，交托 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
confirmation
|
|
| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
muddle
|
|
| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
patriot
|
|
| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
protracting
|
|
| v.延长，拖延（某事物）( protract的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
continental
|
|
| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
provocative
|
|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
census
|
|
| n.(官方的)人口调查，人口普查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
enlist
|
|
| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
enlistment
|
|
| n.应征入伍，获得，取得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
transpired
|
|
| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
arsenal
|
|
| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
layman
|
|
| n.俗人，门外汉，凡人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
culpable
|
|
| adj.有罪的，该受谴责的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
sluggish
|
|
| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
costly
|
|
| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
ammunition
|
|
| n.军火，弹药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
prosecutor
|
|
| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
retention
|
|
| n.保留，保持，保持力，记忆力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
promotion
|
|
| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
incompetent
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能胜任的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
grit
|
|
| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
patriotism
|
|
| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
munitions
|
|
| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
organise
|
|
| vt.组织，安排，筹办 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
sham
|
|
| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
pessimists
|
|
| n.悲观主义者( pessimist的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
atlas
|
|
| n.地图册，图表集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
incompetence
|
|
| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
genially
|
|
| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
systematic
|
|
| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
organisation
|
|
| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
mischievously
|
|
| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
obsolete
|
|
| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
warrior
|
|
| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
propitiate
|
|
| v.慰解，劝解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
secular
|
|
| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
evolutionary
|
|
| adj.进化的；演化的，演变的；[生]进化论的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
exacting
|
|
| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
reverently
|
|
| adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
gastronomic
|
|
| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
fervent
|
|
| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
aspirations
|
|
| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
bishops
|
|
| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
clogs
|
|
| 木屐； 木底鞋，木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
enacted
|
|
| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
audacity
|
|
| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
frailties
|
|
| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
portentous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
slovenly
|
|
| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
deplored
|
|
| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
sect
|
|
| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
unpaid
|
|
| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
rogue
|
|
| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
disinterestedness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
disinterested
|
|
| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
lucrative
|
|
| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
metropolis
|
|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
clotted
|
|
| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
solicit
|
|
| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
exponents
|
|
| n.倡导者( exponent的名词复数 )；说明者；指数；能手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
depicted
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
statistical
|
|
| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
gratuitous
|
|
| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
contradictory
|
|
| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
accusations
|
|
| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
corrupt
|
|
| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
credentials
|
|
| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
undo
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
shams
|
|
| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
apotheosis
|
|
| n.神圣之理想；美化；颂扬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
nominees
|
|
| n.被提名者，被任命者( nominee的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
elicited
|
|
| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
franchise
|
|
| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
frustrated
|
|
| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
postulate
|
|
| n.假定，基本条件；vt.要求，假定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
electorate
|
|
| n.全体选民；选区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
candidly
|
|
| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
relatively
|
|
| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
agitating
|
|
| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
indictment
|
|
| n.起诉；诉状 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
amiably
|
|
| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
clandestinely
|
|
| adv.秘密地，暗中地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
withdrawal
|
|
| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
subscriptions
|
|
| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
chapels
|
|
| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
inflaming
|
|
| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
pictorial
|
|
| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
orators
|
|
| n.演说者，演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
soliciting
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
oligarchy
|
|
| n.寡头政治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
cult
|
|
| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
allied
|
|
| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
dangles
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的第三人称单数 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
impecunious
|
|
| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
influential
|
|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
socialist
|
|
| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
criticise
|
|
| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
bruise
|
|
| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
intimidate
|
|
| vt.恐吓，威胁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
injustices
|
|
| 不公平( injustice的名词复数 )； 非正义； 待…不公正； 冤枉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
iniquitous
|
|
| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
boroughs
|
|
| （尤指大伦敦的）行政区( borough的名词复数 )； 议会中有代表的市镇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
downwards
|
|
| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
acquiesced
|
|
| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
emancipation
|
|
| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
emoluments
|
|
| n.报酬，薪水( emolument的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
restriction
|
|
| n.限制，约束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
gratuitously
|
|
| 平白 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
relegated
|
|
| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
ministry
|
|
| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
rhetoric
|
|
| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
paltry
|
|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
constituents
|
|
| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
impartial
|
|
| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
abolition
|
|
| n.废除，取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
complaisant
|
|
| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
amend
|
|
| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
radically
|
|
| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
distractions
|
|
| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
plural
|
|
| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
bribery
|
|
| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
socialists
|
|
| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
commonwealth
|
|
| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
anarchist
|
|
| n.无政府主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
oligarchic
|
|
| adj.寡头政治的，主张寡头政治的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
retaliation
|
|
| n.报复，反击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
preposterous
|
|
| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
demolish
|
|
| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
administrative
|
|
| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
legislative
|
|
| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
bellicose
|
|
| adj.好战的；好争吵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
perverts
|
|
| n.性变态者( pervert的名词复数 )v.滥用( pervert的第三人称单数 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
anachronistic
|
|
| adj.时代错误的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
questionable
|
|
| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
dispenses
|
|
| v.分配，分与；分配( dispense的第三人称单数 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
obstructed
|
|
| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
archaic
|
|
| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
monarch
|
|
| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
infringe
|
|
| v.违反，触犯，侵害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
brandish
|
|
| v.挥舞，挥动；n.挥动，挥舞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
expediency
|
|
| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
parasites
|
|
| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
federation
|
|
| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
purge
|
|
| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
snobbishness
|
|
| 势利； 势利眼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
ornamental
|
|
| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
nonentities
|
|
| n.无足轻重的人( nonentity的名词复数 )；蝼蚁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
nutritious
|
|
| adj.有营养的，营养价值高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
imperialism
|
|
| n.帝国主义，帝国主义政策 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
perverse
|
|
| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
inveterate
|
|
| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
privy
|
|
| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
clogged
|
|
| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
insignificant
|
|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
pacification
|
|
| n. 讲和，绥靖，平定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |