Most modern history, especially in England, suffers from the same imperfection as journalism. At best it only tells half of the history of Christendom; and that the second half without the first half. Men for whom reason begins with the Revival16 of Learning, men for whom religion begins with the Reformation, can never give a complete account of anything, for they have to start with institutions whose origin they cannot explain, or generally even imagine. Just as we hear of the admiral being shot but have never heard of his being born, so we all heard a great deal about the dissolution of the monasteries17, but we heard next to nothing about the creation of the monasteries. Now this sort of history would be hopelessly insufficient18, even for an intelligent man who hated the monasteries. It is hopelessly insufficient in connection with institutions that many intelligent men do in a quite healthy spirit hate. For instance, it is possible that some of us have occasionally seen some mention, by our learned leader-writers, of an obscure institution called the Spanish Inquisition. Well, it really is an obscure institution, according to them and the histories they read. It is obscure because its origin is obscure. Protestant history simply begins with the horrible thing in possession, as the pantomime begins with the demon19 king in the goblin kitchen. It is likely enough that it was, especially towards the end, a horrible thing that might be haunted by demons20; but if we say this was so, we have no notion why it was so. To understand the Spanish Inquisition it would be necessary to discover two things that we have never dreamed of bothering about; what Spain was and what an Inquisition was. The former would bring in the whole great question about the Crusade against the Moors21; and by what heroic chivalry22 a European nation freed itself of an alien domination from Africa. The latter would bring in the whole business of the other Crusade against the Albigensians, and why men loved and hated that nihilistic vision from Asia. Unless we understand that there was in these things originally the rush and romance of a Crusade, we cannot understand how they came to deceive men or drag them on towards evil. The Crusaders doubtless abused their victory, but there was a victory to abuse. And where there is victory there is valour in the field and popularity in the forum23. There is some sort of enthusiasm that encourages excesses or covers faults. For instance, I for one have maintained from very early days the responsibility of the English for their atrocious treatment of the Irish. But it would be quite unfair to the English to describe even the devilry of '98 and leave out altogether all mention of the war with Napoleon. It would be unjust to suggest that the English mind was bent24 on nothing but the death of Emmett, when it was more probably full of the glory of the death of Nelson. Unfortunately '98 was very far from being the last date of such dirty work; and only a few years ago our politicians started trying to rule by random25 robbing and killing, while gently remonstrating26 with the {22}Irish for their memory of old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago. But however badly we may think of the Black-and-Tan business, it would be unjust to forget that most of us were not thinking of Black-and-Tan but of khaki; and that khaki had just then a noble and national connotation covering many things. To write of the war in Ireland and leave out the war against Prussia, and the English sincerity27 about it, would be unjust to the English. So to talk about the torture-engine as if it had been a hideous28 toy is unjust to the Spanish. It does not tell sensibly from the start the story of what the Spaniard did, and why. We may concede to our contemporaries that in any case it is not a story that ends well. We do not insist that in their version it should begin well. What we complain of is that in their version it does not begin at all. They are only in at the death; or even, like Lord Tom Noddy, too late for the hanging. It is quite true that it was sometimes more horrible than any hanging; but they only gather, so to speak, the very ashes of the ashes; the fag-end of the faggot.
The case of the Inquisition is here taken at random, for it is one among any number illustrating29 the same thing; and not because it is especially connected with St. Francis, in whatever sense it may have been connected with St. Dominic. It may well be suggested later indeed that St. Francis is unintelligible30, just as St. Dominic is unintelligible, unless we do understand something of what the thirteenth century meant by heresy31 and a crusade. But for the moment I use it as a lesser32 example for a much larger purpose. It is to point out that to begin the story of St. Francis with the birth of St. Francis would be to miss the whole point of the story, or rather not to tell the story at all. And it is to suggest that the modern tail-foremost type of journalistic history perpetually fails us. We learn about reformers without knowing what they had to reform, about rebels without a notion of what they rebelled against, of memorials that are not connected with any memory and restorations of things that had apparently never existed before. Even at the expense of this chapter appearing disproportionate, it is necessary to say something about the great movements that led up to the entrance of the founder33 of the Franciscans. It may seem to mean describing a world, or even a universe, in order to describe a man. It will inevitably34 mean that the world or the universe will be described with a few desperate generalisations in a few abrupt35 sentences. But so far from its meaning that we see a very small figure under so large a sky, it will mean that we must measure the sky before we can begin to measure the towering stature36 of the man.
And this phrase alone brings me to the preliminary suggestions that seem necessary before even a slight sketch37 of the life of St. Francis. It is {24}necessary to realise, in however rude and elementary a fashion, into what sort of a world St. Francis entered and what has been the history of that world, at least in so far as it affected38 him. It is necessary to have, if only in a few sentences, a sort of preface in the form of an Outline of History, if we may borrow the phrase of Mr. Wells. In the case of Mr. Wells himself, it is evident that the distinguished39 novelist suffered the same disadvantage as if he had been obliged to write a novel of which he hated the hero. To write history and hate Rome, both pagan and papal, is practically to hate nearly everything that has happened. It comes very near to hating humanity on purely40 humanitarian41 grounds. To dislike both the priest and the soldier, both the laurels42 of the warrior43 and the lilies of the saint, is to suffer a division from the mass of mankind for which not all the dexterities of the finest and most flexible of modern intelligences can compensate44. A much wider sympathy is needed for the historical setting of St. Francis, himself both a soldier and a saint. I will therefore conclude this chapter with a few generalisations about the world that St. Francis found.
Men will not believe because they will not broaden their minds. As a matter of individual belief, I should of course express it by saying that they are not sufficiently45 catholic to be Catholic. But I am not going to discuss here the doctrinal truths of Christianity, but simply {25}the broad historical fact of Christianity, as it might appear to a really enlightened and imaginative person even if he were not a Christian46. What I mean at the moment is that the majority of doubts are made out of details. In the course of random reading a man comes across a pagan custom that strikes him as picturesque47 or a Christian action that strikes him as cruel; but he does not enlarge his mind sufficiently to see the main truth about pagan custom or the Christian reaction against it. Until we understand, not necessarily in detail, but in their big bulk and proportion that pagan progress and that Christian reaction, we cannot really understand the point of history at which St. Francis appears or what his great popular mission was all about.
Now everybody knows, I imagine, that the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were an awakening48 of the world. They were a fresh flowering of culture and the creative arts after a long spell of much sterner and even more sterile49 experience which we call the Dark Ages. They may be called an emancipation50; they were certainly an end; an end of what may at least seem a harsher and more inhuman51 time. But what was it that was ended? From what was it that men were emancipated? That is where there is a real collision and point at issue between the different philosophies of history. On the merely external and secular52 side, it has been truly said that men awoke from a sleep; but there had been dreams {26}in that sleep of a mystical and sometimes of a monstrous53 kind. In that rationalistic routine into which most modern historians have fallen, it is considered enough to say that they were emancipated from mere savage54 superstition55 and advanced towards mere civilised enlightenment. Now this is the big blunder that stands as a stumbling-block at the very beginning of our story. Anybody who supposes that the Dark Ages were plain darkness and nothing else, and that the dawn of the thirteenth century was plain daylight and nothing else, will not be able to make head or tail of the human story of St. Francis of Assisi. The truth is that the joy of St. Francis and his Jongleurs de Dieu was not merely an awakening. It was something which cannot be understood without understanding their own mystical creed56. The end of the Dark Ages was not merely the end of a sleep. It was certainly not merely the end of a superstitious57 enslavement. It was the end of something belonging to a quite definite but quite different order of ideas.
It was the end of a penance58; or, if it be preferred, a purgation. It marked the moment when a certain spiritual expiation59 had been finally worked out and certain spiritual diseases had been finally expelled from the system. They had been expelled by an era of asceticism60, which was the only thing that could have expelled them. Christianity had entered the world to cure the {27}world; and she had cured it in the only way in which it could be cured.
Viewed merely in an external and experimental fashion, the whole of the high civilisation61 of antiquity62 had ended in the learning of a certain lesson; that is, in its conversion63 to Christianity. But that lesson was a psychological fact as well as a theological faith. That pagan civilisation had indeed been a very high civilisation. It would not weaken our thesis, it might even strengthen it, to say that it was the highest that humanity ever reached. It had discovered its still unrivalled arts of poetry and plastic representation; it had discovered its own permanent political ideals; it had discovered its own clear system of logic64 and of language. But above all, it had discovered its own mistake.
That mistake was too deep to be ideally defined; the short-hand of it is to call it the mistake of nature-worship. It might almost as truly be called the mistake of being natural; and it was a very natural mistake. The Greeks, the great guides and pioneers of pagan antiquity, started out with the idea of something splendidly obvious and direct; the idea that if man walked straight ahead on the high road of reason and nature, he could come to no harm; especially if he was, as the Greek was, eminently65 enlightened and intelligent. We might be so flippant as to say that man was simply to follow his nose, so long as it was a Greek nose. And the case of {28}the Greeks themselves is alone enough to illustrate66 the strange but certain fatality67 that attends upon this fallacy. No sooner did the Greeks themselves begin to follow their own noses and their own notion of being natural, than the queerest thing in history seems to have happened to them. It was much too queer to be an easy matter to discuss. It may be remarked that our more repulsive68 realists never give us the benefit of their realism. Their studies of unsavoury subjects never take note of the testimony69 which they bear to the truths of a traditional morality. But if we had the taste for such things, we could cite thousands of such things as part of the case for Christian morals. And an instance of this is found in the fact that nobody has written, in this sense, a real moral history of the Greeks. Nobody has seen the scale or the strangeness of the story. The wisest men in the world set out to be natural; and the most unnatural70 thing in the world was the very first thing they did. The immediate71 effect of saluting72 the sun and the sunny sanity73 of nature was a perversion74 spreading like a pestilence75. The greatest and even the purest philosophers could not apparently avoid this low sort of lunacy. Why? It would seem simple enough for the people whose poets had conceived Helen of Troy, whose sculptors76 had carved the Venus of Milo, to remain healthy on the point. The truth is that people who worship health cannot remain healthy. When Man goes {29}straight he goes crooked77. When he follows his nose he manages somehow to put his nose out of joint78, or even to cut off his nose to spite his face; and that in accordance with something much deeper in human nature than nature-worshippers could ever understand. It was the discovery of that deeper thing, humanly speaking, that constituted the conversion to Christianity. There is a bias79 in man like the bias in the bowl; and Christianity was the discovery of how to correct the bias and therefore hit the mark. There are many who will smile at the saying; but it is profoundly true to say that the glad good news brought by the Gospel was the news of original sin.
Rome rose at the expense of her Greek teachers largely because she did not entirely consent to be taught these tricks. She had a much more decent domestic tradition; but she ultimately suffered from the same fallacy in her religious tradition; which was necessarily in no small degree the heathen tradition of nature-worship. What was the matter with the whole heathen civilisation was that there was nothing for the mass of men in the way of mysticism, except that concerned with the mystery of the nameless forces of nature, such as sex and growth and death. In the Roman Empire also, long before the end, we find nature-worship inevitably producing things that are against nature. Cases like that of Nero have passed into a proverb, when Sadism sat on a throne brazen80 in the broad daylight. But the truth I mean is something much more subtle and universal than a conventional catalogue of atrocities81. What had happened to the human imagination, as a whole, was that the whole world was coloured by dangerous and rapidly deteriorating82 passions; by natural passions becoming unnatural passions. Thus the effect of treating sex as only one innocent natural thing was that every other innocent natural thing became soaked and sodden83 with sex. For sex cannot be admitted to a mere equality among elementary emotions or experiences like eating and sleeping. The moment sex ceases to be a servant it becomes a tyrant84. There is something dangerous and disproportionate in its place in human nature, for whatever reason; and it does really need a special purification and dedication85. The modern talk about sex being free like any other sense, about the body being beautiful like any tree or flower, is either a description of the Garden of Eden or a piece of thoroughly86 bad psychology87, of which the world grew weary two thousand years ago.
This is not to be confused with mere self-righteous sensationalism about the wickedness of the pagan world. It was not so much that the pagan world was wicked as that it was good enough to realise that its paganism was becoming wicked, or rather was on the logical high road to wickedness. I mean that there was no future for "natural magic"; to deepen it was only to {31}darken it into black magic. There was no future for it; because in the past it had only been innocent because it was young. We might say it had only been innocent because it was shallow. Pagans were wiser than paganism; that is why the pagans became Christians88. Thousands of them had philosophy and family virtues89 and military honour to hold them up; but by this time the purely popular thing called religion was certainly dragging them down. When this reaction against the evil is allowed for, it is true to repeat that it was an evil that was everywhere. In another and more literal sense its name was Pan.
It was no metaphor90 to say that these people needed a new heaven and a new earth; for they had really defiled91 their own earth and even their own heaven. How could their case be met by looking at the sky, when erotic legends were scrawled92 in stars across it; how could they learn anything from the love of birds and flowers after the sort of love stories that were told of them? It is impossible here to multiply evidences, and one small example may stand for the rest. We know what sort of sentimental93 associations are called up to us by the phrase "a garden"; and how we think mostly of the memory of melancholy94 and innocent romances, or quite as often of some gracious maiden95 lady or kindly96 old parson pottering under a yew97 hedge, perhaps in sight of a village spire98. Then, let {32}anyone who knows a little Latin poetry recall suddenly what would once have stood in place of the sun-dial or the fountain, obscene and monstrous in the sun; and of what sort was the god of their gardens.
Nothing could purge99 this obsession100 but a religion that was literally101 unearthly. It was no good telling such people to have a natural religion full of stars and flowers; there was not a flower or even a star that had not been stained. They had to go into the desert where they could find no flowers or even into the cavern102 where they could see no stars. Into that desert and that cavern the highest human intellect entered for some four centuries; and it was the very wisest thing it could do. Nothing but the stark103 supernatural stood up for its salvation104; if God could not save it, certainly the gods could not. The Early Church called the gods of paganism devils; and the Early Church was perfectly105 right. Whatever natural religion may have had to do with their beginnings, nothing but fiends now inhabited those hollow shrines106. Pan was nothing but panic. Venus was nothing but venereal vice107. I do not mean for a moment, of course, that all the individual pagans were of this character even to the end; but it was as individuals that they differed from it. Nothing distinguishes paganism from Christianity so clearly as the fact that the individual thing called philosophy had little or nothing to do with {33}the social thing called religion. Anyhow it was no good to preach natural religion to people to whom nature had grown as unnatural as any religion. They knew much better than we do what was the matter with them and what sort of demons at once tempted108 and tormented them; and they wrote across that great space of history the text: "This sort goeth not out but by prayer and fasting."
Now the historic importance of St. Francis and the transition from the twelfth to the thirteenth century, lies in the fact that they marked the end of this expiation. Men at the close of the Dark Ages may have been rude and unlettered and unlearned in everything but wars with heathen tribes, more barbarous than themselves, but they were clean. They were like children; the first beginnings of their rude arts have all the clean pleasure of children. We have to conceive them in Europe as a whole living under little local governments, feudal109 in so far as they were a survival of fierce wars with the barbarians110, often monastic and carrying a more friendly and fatherly character, still faintly imperial in so far as Rome still ruled as a great legend. But in Italy something had survived more typical of the finer spirit of antiquity: the republic. Italy was dotted with little states, largely democratic in their ideals, and often filled with real citizens. But the city no longer lay open as under the Roman peace, but was pent in {34}high walls for defence against feudal war and all the citizens had to be soldiers. One of these stood in a steep and striking position on the wooded hills of Umbria; and its name was Assisi. Out of its deep gate under its high turrets111 was to come the message that was the gospel of the hour, "Your warfare112 is accomplished113, your iniquity114 is pardoned." But it was out of all these fragmentary things of feudalism and freedom and remains115 of Roman Law that there was to rise, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, vast and almost universal, the mighty116 civilisation of the Middle Ages.
It is an exaggeration to attribute it entirely to the inspiration of any one man, even the most original genius of the thirteenth century. Its elementary ethics117 of fraternity and fair play had never been entirely extinct and Christendom had never been anything less than Christian. The great truisms about justice and pity can be found in the rudest monastic records of the barbaric transition or the stiffest maxims118 of the Byzantine decline. And early in the eleventh and twelfth centuries a larger moral movement had clearly begun. But what may fairly be said of it is this, that over all those first movements there was still something of that ancient austerity that came from the long penitential period. It was the twilight119 of morning; but it was still a grey twilight. This may be illustrated120 by the mere mention of two or three of {35}these reforms before the Franciscan reform. The monastic institution itself, of course, was far older than all these things; indeed it was undoubtedly121 almost as old as Christianity. Its counsels of perfection had always taken the form of vows122 of chastity and poverty and obedience123. With these unworldly aims it had long ago civilised a great part of the world. The monks124 had taught people to plough and sow as well as to read and write; indeed they had taught the people nearly everything that the people knew. But it may truly be said that the monks were severely125 practical, in the sense that they were not only practical but also severe; though they were generally severe with themselves and practical for other people. All this early monastic movement had long ago settled down and doubtless often deteriorated126; but when we come to the first medieval movements this sterner character is still apparent. Three examples may be taken to illustrate the point.
First, the ancient social mould of slavery was already beginning to melt. Not only was the slave turning into the serf, who was practically free as regards his own farm and family life, but many lords were freeing slaves and serfs altogether. This was done under the pressure of the priests; but especially it was done in the spirit of a penance. In one sense, of course, any Catholic society must have an atmosphere of penance; but I am speaking of that rather sterner spirit of penance which had expiated127 the excesses of paganism. There was about such restitutions the atmosphere of the death-bed; as many of them doubtless were examples of death-bed repentance128. A very honest atheist129 with whom I once debated made use of the expression, "Men have only been kept in slavery by the fear of hell." As I pointed130 out to him, if he had said that men had only been freed from slavery by the fear of hell, he would at least have been referring to an unquestionable historical fact.
Another example was the sweeping131 reform of Church discipline by Pope Gregory the Seventh. It really was a reform, undertaken from the highest motives132 and having the healthiest results; it conducted a searching inquisition against simony or the financial corruptions133 of the clergy134; it insisted on a more serious and self-sacrificing ideal for the life of a parish priest. But the very fact that this largely took the form of making universal the obligation of celibacy135 will strike the note of something which, however noble, would seem to many to be vaguely136 negative. The third example is in one sense the strongest of all. For the third example was a war; a heroic war and for many of us a holy war; but still something having all the stark and terrible responsibilities of war. There is no space here to say all that should be said about the true {37}nature of the Crusades. Everybody knows that in the very darkest hour of the Dark Ages a sort of heresy had sprung up in Arabia and become a new religion of a military but nomadic137 sort, invoking138 the name of Mahomet. Intrinsically it had a character found in many heresies139 from the Moslem140 to the Monist. It seemed to the heretic a sane141 simplification of religion; while it seems to the Catholic an insane simplification of religion, because it simplifies all to a single idea and so loses the breadth and balance of Catholicism. Anyhow its objective character was that of a military danger to Christendom and Christendom had struck at the very heart of it, in seeking to reconquer the Holy Places. The great Duke Godfrey and the first Christians who stormed Jerusalem were heroes if there were ever any in the world; but they were the heroes of a tragedy.
Now I have taken these two or three examples of the earlier medieval movements in order to note about them one general character, which refers back to the penance that followed paganism. There is something in all these movements that is bracing142 even while it is still bleak143, like a wind blowing between the clefts144 of the mountains. That wind, austere145 and pure, of which the poet speaks, is really the spirit of the time, for it is the wind of a world that has at last been purified. To anyone who can appreciate atmospheres there is something clear and clean about the atmosphere of this crude and often harsh society. Its very lusts146 are clean; for they have no longer any smell of perversion. Its very cruelties are clean; they are not the luxurious147 cruelties of the amphitheatre. They come either of a very simple horror at blasphemy148 or a very simple fury at insult. Gradually against this grey background beauty begins to appear, as something really fresh and delicate and above all surprising. Love returning is no longer what was once called platonic149 but what is still called chivalric150 love. The flowers and stars have recovered their first innocence151. Fire and water are felt to be worthy152 to be the brother and sister of a saint. The purge of paganism is complete at last.
For water itself has been washed. Fire itself has been purified as by fire. Water is no longer that water into which slaves were flung to feed the fishes. Fire is no longer that fire through which children were passed to Moloch. Flowers smell no more of the forgotten garlands gathered in the garden of Priapus; stars stand no more as signs of the far frigidity153 of gods as cold as those cold fires. They are all like things newly made and awaiting new names, from one who shall come to name them. Neither the universe nor the earth have now any longer the old sinister154 significance of the world. They await a new reconciliation155 with man, but they are already capable of being reconciled. Man has stripped from his soul the last rag of nature-worship, and can return to nature.
While it was yet twilight a figure appeared silently and suddenly on a little hill above the city, dark against the fading darkness. For it was the end of a long and stern night, a night of vigil, not unvisited by stars. He stood with his hands lifted, as in so many statues and pictures, and about him was a burst of birds singing; and behind him was the break of day.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
journalism
|
|
| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
serial
|
|
| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
perversity
|
|
| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
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 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
pedantic
|
|
| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
epics
|
|
| n.叙事诗( epic的名词复数 )；壮举；惊人之举；史诗般的电影（或书籍） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
diplomacy
|
|
| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pegged
|
|
| v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的过去式和过去分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
revival
|
|
| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
monasteries
|
|
| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
insufficient
|
|
| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
demons
|
|
| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
chivalry
|
|
| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
forum
|
|
| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
remonstrating
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
illustrating
|
|
| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
heresy
|
|
| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
Founder
|
|
| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
stature
|
|
| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
laurels
|
|
| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
warrior
|
|
| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
compensate
|
|
| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sterile
|
|
| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
emancipation
|
|
| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
inhuman
|
|
| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
secular
|
|
| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
penance
|
|
| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
expiation
|
|
| n.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
asceticism
|
|
| n.禁欲主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
conversion
|
|
| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
eminently
|
|
| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
illustrate
|
|
| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
fatality
|
|
| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
saluting
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
perversion
|
|
| n.曲解；堕落；反常 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
pestilence
|
|
| n.瘟疫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
sculptors
|
|
| 雕刻家，雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 )； [天]玉夫座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
bias
|
|
| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
brazen
|
|
| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
atrocities
|
|
| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
deteriorating
|
|
| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sodden
|
|
| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
dedication
|
|
| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
metaphor
|
|
| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
defiled
|
|
| v.玷污( defile的过去式和过去分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
scrawled
|
|
| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
yew
|
|
| n.紫杉属树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
spire
|
|
| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
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： |
|
|
|
|
100
obsession
|
|
| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
salvation
|
|
| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
shrines
|
|
| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
vice
|
|
| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
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： |
|
|
|
|
109
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
barbarians
|
|
| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
turrets
|
|
| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
iniquity
|
|
| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
ethics
|
|
| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
maxims
|
|
| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
vows
|
|
| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
deteriorated
|
|
| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
expiated
|
|
| v.为（所犯罪过）接受惩罚，赎（罪）( expiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
repentance
|
|
| n.懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
atheist
|
|
| n.无神论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
corruptions
|
|
| n.堕落( corruption的名词复数 )；腐化；腐败；贿赂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
celibacy
|
|
| n.独身(主义) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
nomadic
|
|
| adj.流浪的；游牧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
invoking
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
heresies
|
|
| n.异端邪说，异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
Moslem
|
|
| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
bracing
|
|
| adj.令人振奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
clefts
|
|
| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
lusts
|
|
| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
blasphemy
|
|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
platonic
|
|
| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
chivalric
|
|
| 有武士气概的，有武士风范的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
151
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
frigidity
|
|
| n.寒冷；冷淡；索然无味；（尤指妇女的）性感缺失 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
reconciliation
|
|
| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |