Nor are these first steps in her wonderful intellectual progress any the less, but are all the more noteworthy, for being first steps. “To ignore this stage,” says the author of the valuable little volume to which we have just referred—“to ignore this stage in George Eliot’s mental development would be to lose one of the connecting links in her history.” Furthermore, p. 6“nothing in her fictions excels the style of these papers.” Here is all her “epigrammatic felicity,” and an irony18 not surpassed by Heine himself, while her paper on the poet Young is one of her wittiest19 bits of critical analysis.
Her translation of Status’s “Life of Jesus” was published in 1840, and her translation of Feuerbach’s “Essence of Christianity” in 1854. Her translation of Spinoza’s “Ethics” was finished the same year, but remains20 unpublished. She was associate editor of The Westminster Review from 1851 to 1853. She was about twenty-seven years of age when her first translation appeared, thirty-three when the first of these magazine articles appeared, thirty-eight at the publication of her first story, and fifty-nine when she finished “Theophrastus Such.” Two years after she died, at the age of sixty-one. So that George Eliot’s literary life covered a period of about thirty-two years.
The introductory chapter on her “Analysis of Motives22” first appeared as a magazine article, and appears here at the request of the publishers, after having been carefully revised, indeed almost entirely23 rewritten by its author.
p. 7“GEORGE ELIOT’S” ANALYSIS OF MOTIVES.
George Eliot is the greatest of the novelists in the delineation24 of feeling and the analysis of motives. In “uncovering certain human lots, and seeing how they are woven and interwoven,” some marvellous work has been done by this master in the two arts of rhetoric25 and fiction.
If you say the telling of a story is her forte26, you put her below Wilkie Collins or Mrs. Oliphant; if you say her object is to give a picture of English society, she is surpassed by Bulwer and Trollope; if she be called a satirist27 of society, Thackeray is her superior; if she intends to illustrate28 the absurdity29 of behavior, she is eclipsed by Dickens; but if the analysis of human motives be her forte and art, she stands first, and it is very doubtful whether any artist in fiction is entitled to stand second. She reaches clear in and touches the most secret and the most delicate spring of human action. She has done this so well, so apart from the doing of everything else, and so, in spite of doing some other things indifferently, that she works on a line quite her own, and quite alone, as a creative artist in fiction. Others have done this incidentally and occasionally, as Charlotte Bront? and Walter Scott, but George Eliot does it elaborately, with laborious31 painstaking32, with purpose aforethought. Scott said of Richardson: “In his survey of the heart he left neither head, bay, nor inlet behind him until he had traced its soundings, and laid it down in his chart with all its minute sinuosities, its depths and its shallows.”
This is too much to say of Richardson, but it is not too much to say of George Eliot. She has sounded depths and explored p. 8sinuosities of the human heart which were utterly33 unknown to the author of “Clarissa Harlowe.” It is like looking into the translucent34 brook—you see the wriggling35 tad, the darting36 minnow, the leisurely37 trout38, the motionless pike, while in the bays and inlets you see the infusoria and animalcul? as well.
George Eliot belongs to and is the greatest of the school of artists in fiction who write fiction as a means to an end, instead of as an end. And, while she certainly is not a story-teller of the first order, considered simply as a story-teller, her novels are a striking illustration of the power of fiction as a means to an end. They remind us, as few other stories do, of the fact that however inferior the story may be considered simply as a story, it is indispensable to the delineation of character. No other form of composition, no discourse39, or essay, or series of independent sketches40, however successful, could succeed in bringing out character equal to the novel. Herein is at once the justification41 of the power of fiction. “He spake a parable,” with an “end” in view which could not be so expeditiously42 attained43 by any other form of address.
A story of the first-class, with the story as end in itself, and a story of the first class told as a means to an end, has never been, and it is not likely ever will be, found together. The novel with a purpose is fatal to the novel written simply to excite by a plot, or divert by pictures of scenery, or entertain as a mere44 panorama45 of social life. So intense is George Eliot’s desire to dissect46 the human heart and discover its motives, that plot, diction, situations, and even consistency47 in the vocabulary of the characters, are all made subservient48 to it. With her it is not so much that the characters do thus and so, but why they do thus and so. Dickens portrays49 the behavior, George Eliot dissects50 the motive21 of the behavior. Here comes the human creature, says Dickens, now let us see how he will behave. Here comes the human creature, says George Eliot, now let us see why he behaves.
“Suppose,” she says, “suppose we turn from outside estimates p. 9of a man, to wonder with keener interest what is the report of his own consciousness about his doings, with what hindrances51 he is carrying on his daily labors52, and with what spirit he wrestles53 against universal pressure, which may one day be too heavy for him and bring his heart to a final pause.” The outside estimate is the work of Dickens and Thackeray, the inside estimate is the work of George Eliot.
Observe in the opening pages of the great novel of “Middlemarch” how soon we pass from the outside dress to the inside reasons for it, from the costume to the motives which control it and color it. It was “only to close observers that Celia’s dress differed from her sister’s,” and had “a shade of coquetry in its arrangements.” Dorothea’s “plain dressing54 was due to mixed conditions, in most of which her sister shared.” They were both influenced by “the pride of being ladies,” of belonging to a stock not exactly aristocratic, but unquestionably “good.” The very quotation2 of the word good is significant and suggestive. There were “no parcel-tying forefathers” in the Brooke pedigree. A Puritan forefather55, “who served under Cromwell, but afterward56 conformed and managed to come out of all political troubles as the proprietor57 of a respectable family estate,” had a hand in Dorothea’s “plain” wardrobe. “She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life involving eternal consequences with a keen interest in gimp and artificial protrusions of drapery,” but Celia “had that common-sense which is able to accept momentous58 doctrines59 without any eccentric agitation60.” Both were examples of “reversion.” Then, as an instance of heredity working itself out in character “in Mr. Brooke, the hereditary61 strain of Puritan energy was clearly in abeyance62, but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and virtues64.”
Could anything be more natural than for a woman with this passion for, and skill in, “unravelling65 certain human lots,” to lay herself out upon the human lot of woman, with all her “passionate patience of genius?” One would say this was inevitable66. And, for a delineation of what that lot of woman p. 10really is, as made for her, there is nothing in all literature equal to what we find in “Middlemarch,” “Romola,” “Daniel Deronda,” and “Janet’s Repentance67.” “She was a woman, and could not make her own lot.” Never before, indeed, was so much got out of the word “lot.” Never was that little word so hard worked, or well worked. “We women,” says Gwendolen Harleth, “must stay where we grow, or where the gardeners like to transplant us. We are brought up like the flowers, to look as pretty as we can, and be dull without complaining. That is my notion about the plants, and that is the reason why some of them have got poisonous.” To appreciate the work that George Eliot has done you must read her with the determination of finding out the reason why Gwendolen Harleth “became poisonous,” and Dorothea, with all her brains and “plans,” a failure; why “the many Theresas find for themselves no epic68 life, only a life of mistakes, the offspring of a certain spiritual grandeur69 ill-matched with the meanness of opportunity.” You must search these marvellous studies in motives for the key to the blunders of “the blundering lives” of woman which “some have felt are due to the inconvenient70 indefiniteness with which the Supreme71 power has fashioned the natures of women.” But as there is not “one level of feminine incompetence72 as strict as the ability to count three and no more, the social lot of woman cannot be treated with scientific certitude.” It is treated with a dissective delineation in the women of George Eliot unequalled in the pages of fiction.
And then woman’s lot, as respects her “social promotion” in matrimony, so much sought, and so necessary for her to seek, even in spite of her conscience, and at the expense of her happiness—the unravelling of that lot would also come very natural to this expert unraveller. And never have we had the causes of woman’s “blunders” in match-making, and man’s blunders in love-making, told with such analytic73 acumen74, or with such pathetic and sarcastic75 eloquence76. It is not far from the question of woman’s social lot to the question of questions of human life, p. 11the question which has so tremendous an influence upon the fortunes of mankind and womankind, the question which it is so easy for one party to “pop” and so difficult for the other party to answer intelligently or sagaciously.
Why does the young man fall in love with the young woman who is most unfit for him of all the young women of his acquaintance, and why does the young woman accept the young man, or the old man, who is better adapted to making her life unendurable than any other man of her circle of acquaintances? Why does the stalwart Adam Bede fall in love with Hetty Sorrel, “who had nothing more than her beauty to recommend her?” The delineator of his motives “respects him none the less.” She thinks that “the deep love he had for that sweet, rounded, dark-eyed Hetty, of whose inward self he was really very ignorant, came out of the very strength of his nature, and not out of any inconsistent weakness. Is it any weakness, pray, to be wrought78 upon by exquisite79 music? To feel its wondrous80 harmonies searching the subtlest windings81 of your soul, the delicate fibres of life which no memory can penetrate83, and binding84 together your whole being, past and present, in one unspeakable vibration85? If not, then neither is it a weakness to be so wrought upon by the exquisite curves of a woman’s cheek, and neck, and arms; by the liquid depth of her beseeching86 eyes, or the sweet girlish pout87 of her lips. For the beauty of a lovely woman is like music—what can one say more?” And so “the noblest nature is often blinded to the character of the woman’s soul that beauty clothes.” Hence “the tragedy of human life is likely to continue for a long time to come, in spite of mental philosophers who are ready with the best receipts for avoiding all mistakes of the kind.”
How simple the motive of the Rev7. Edward Casaubon in popping the question to Dorothea Brooke, how complex her motives in answering the question! He wanted an amanuensis to “love, honor, and obey” him. She wanted a husband who would be “a sort of father, and could teach you even Hebrew if you wished it.” The matrimonial motives are p. 12worked to draw out the character of Dorothea, and nowhere does the method of George Eliot show to greater advantage than in probing the motives of this fine, strong, conscientious88, blundering young woman, whose voice “was like the voice of a soul that once lived in an ?olian harp89.” She had a theoretic cast of mind. She was “enamored of intensity90 and greatness, and rash in embracing what seemed to her to have those aspects.” The awful divine had those aspects, and she embraced him. “Certainly such elements in the character of a marriageable girl tended to interfere91 with her lot, and hinder it from being decided92, according to custom, by good looks, vanity, and merely canine93 affection.” That’s a George Eliot stroke. If the reader does not see from that what she is driving at he may as well abandon all hope of ever appreciating her great forte and art. Dorothea’s goodness and sincerity94 did not save her from the worst blunder that a woman can make, while her conscientiousness95 only made it inevitable. “With all her eagerness to know the truths of life she retained very childlike ideas about marriage.” A little of the goose as well as the child in her conscientious simplicity96, perhaps. She “felt sure she would have accepted the judicious97 Hooker if she had been born in time to save him from that wretched mistake he made in matrimony, or John Milton, when his blindness had come on, or any other great man whose odd habits it would be glorious piety98 to endure.”
True to life, our author furnishes the “great man,” and the “odd habits,” and the miserable99 years of “glorious” endurance. “Dorothea looked deep into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Casaubon’s mind, seeing reflected there every quality she herself brought.” They exchanged experiences—he his desire to have an amanuensis, and she hers, to be one. He told her in the billy-cooing of their courtship that “his notes made a formidable range of volumes, but the crowning task would be to condense these voluminous, still accumulating results, and bring them, like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to fit a little shelf.” Dorothea was altogether captivated by the p. 13wide embrace of this conception. Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies’ school literature. Here was a modern Augustine who united the glories of doctor and saint. Dorothea said to herself: “His feeling, his experience, what a lake compared to my little pool!” The little pool runs into the great reservoir.
Will you take this reservoir to be your husband, and will you promise to be unto him a fetcher of slippers100, a dotter of I’s and crosser of T’s and a copier and condenser101 of manuscripts; until death doth you part? I will.
They spend their honeymoon102 in Rome, and on page 211 of Vol. I. we find poor Dorothea “alone in her apartments, sobbing103 bitterly, with such an abandonment to this relief of an oppressed heart as a woman habitually104 controlled by pride will sometimes allow herself when she feels securely alone.” What was she crying about? “She thought her feeling of desolation was the fault of her own spiritual poverty.” A characteristic George Eliot probe. Why does not Dorothea give the real reason for her desolateness105? Because she does not know what the real reason is—conscience makes blunderers of us all. “How was it that in the weeks since their marriage Dorothea had not distinctly observed, but felt, with a stifling106 depression, that the large vistas107 and wide fresh air which she had dreamed of finding in her husband’s mind were replaced by anterooms and winding82 passages which seemed to lead no whither? I suppose it was because in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and the smallest sample of virtue63 or accomplishment108 is taken to guarantee delightful109 stores which the broad leisure of marriage will reveal. But, the door-sill of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on the present. Having once embarked110 on your marital111 voyage, you may become aware that you make no way, and that the sea is not within sight—that in fact you are exploring an inclosed basin.” So the ungauged reservoir turns out to be an inclosed basin, but Dorothea was prevented by her social lot, and perverse112 goodness, and puritanical113 p. 14“reversion,” from foreseeing that. She might have been saved from her gloomy marital voyage “if she could have fed her affection with those childlike caresses114 which are the bent115 of every sweet woman who has begun by showering kisses on the hard pate116 of her bald doll, creating a happy soul within that woodenness from the wealth of her own love.” Then, perhaps, Ladislaw would have been her first husband instead of her second, as he certainly was her first and only love. Such are the chances and mischances in the lottery117 of matrimony.
Equally admirable is the diagnosis118 of Gwendolen Harleth’s motives in “drifting toward the tremendous decision,” and finally landing in it. “We became poor, and I was tempted119.” Marriage came to her as it comes to many, as a temptation, and like the deadening drug or the maddening bowl, to keep off the demon120 of remorse121 or the cloud of sorrow, like the forgery122 or the robbery to save from want. “The brilliant position she had longed for, the imagined freedom she would create for herself in marriage”—these “had come to her hunger like food, with the taint123 of sacrilege upon it,” which she “snatched with terror.” Grandcourt “fulfilled his side of the bargain by giving her the rank and luxuries she coveted124.” Matrimony as a bargain never had and never will have but one result. “She had a root of conscience in her, and the process of purgatory125 had begun for her on earth.” Without the root of conscience it would have been purgatory all the same. So much for resorting to marriage for deliverance from poverty or old maidhood. Better be an old maid than an old fool. But how are we to be guaranteed against “one of those convulsive motiveless126 actions by which wretched men and women leap from a temporary sorrow into a lifelong misery127?” Rosamond Lydgate says, “Marriage stays with us like a murder.” Yes, if she could only have found that out before instead of after her own marriage!
But “what greater thing,” exclaims our novelist, “is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life, to strengthen each other in all labor30, to minister to each other p. 15in all pain, to be one with each other in silent, unspeakable memories at the last parting?”
While a large proportion of her work in the analysis of motives is confined to woman, she has done nothing more skilful128 or memorable129 than the “unravelling” of Bulstrode’s mental processes by which he “explained the gratification of his desires into satisfactory agreement with his beliefs.” If there were no Dorothea in “Middlemarch” the character of Bulstrode would give that novel a place by itself among the masterpieces of fiction. The Bulstrode wound was never probed in fiction with more scientific precision. The pious12 villain130 finally finds himself so near discovery that he becomes conscientious. “His equivocation131 now turns venomously upon him with the full-grown fang132 of a discovered lie.” The past came back to make the present unendurable. “The terror of being judged sharpens the memory.” Once more “he saw himself the banker’s clerk, as clever in figures as he was fluent in speech, and fond of theological definition. He had striking experience in conviction and sense of pardon; spoke134 in prayer-meeting and on religious platforms. That was the time he would have chosen now to awake in and find the rest of dream. He remembered his first moments of shrinking. They were private and were filled with arguments—some of these taking the form of prayer.”
Private prayer—but “is private prayer necessarily candid135? Does it necessarily go to the roots of action? Private prayer is inaudible speech, and speech is representative. Who can represent himself just as he is, even in his own reflections?”
Bulstrode’s course up to the time of his being suspected “had, he thought, been sanctioned by remarkable136 providences, appearing to point the way for him to be the agent in making the best use of a large property.” Providence137 would have him use for the glory of God the money he had stolen. “Could it be for God’s service that this fortune should go to” its rightful owners, when its rightful owners were “a young woman and her husband who were given up to the lightest p. 16pursuits, and might scatter138 it abroad in triviality—people who seemed to lie outside the path of remarkable providences?”
Bulstrode felt at times “that his action was unrighteous, but how could he go back? He had mental exercises calling himself naught139, laid hold on redemption and went on in his course of instrumentality.” He was “carrying on two distinct lives”—a religious one and a wicked one. “His religious activity could not be incompatible140 with his wicked business as soon as he had argued himself into not feeling it incompatible.”
“The spiritual kind of rescue was a genuine need with him. There may be coarse hypocrites, who consciously affect beliefs and emotions for the sake of gulling141 the world, but Bulstrode was not one of them. He was simply a man whose desires had been stronger than his theoretic beliefs, and who had gradually explained the gratification of his desires into satisfactory agreement with those beliefs.”
And now Providence seemed to be taking sides against him. “A threatening Providence—in other words, a public exposure—urged him to a kind of propitiation which was not a doctrinal transaction. The divine tribunal had changed its aspect to him. Self-prostration was no longer enough. He must bring restitution142 in his hand. By what sacrifice could he stay the rod? He believed that if he did something right God would stay the rod, and save him from the consequences of his wrong-doing.” His religion was “the religion of personal fear,” which “remains nearly at the level of the savage143.” The exposure comes, and the explosion. Society shudders144 with hypocritical horror, especially in the presence of poor Mrs. Bulstrode, who “should have some hint given her, that if she knew the truth she would have less complacency in her bonnet145.” Society when it is very candid, and very conscientious, and very scrupulous146, cannot “allow a wife to remain ignorant long that the town holds a bad opinion of her husband.” The photograph of the Middlemarch gossips sitting upon the case of Mrs. Bulstrode is taken accurately147. Equally accurate, and far more impressive, is the narrative148 of circumstantial evidence p. 17gathering against the innocent Lydgate and the guilty Bulstrode—circumstances that will sometimes weave into one tableau149 of public odium the purest and the blackest characters. From this tableau you may turn to that one in “Adam Bede,” and see how circumstances are made to crush the weak woman and clear the wicked man. And then you can go to “Romola,” or indeed to almost any of these novels, and see how wrong-doing may come of an indulged infirmity of purpose, that unconscious weakness and conscious wickedness may bring about the same disastrous150 results, and that repentance has no more effect in averting151 or altering the consequences in one case than the other. Tito’s ruin comes of a feeble, Felix Holt’s victory of an unconquerable, will. Nothing is more characteristic of George Eliot than her tracking of Tito through all the motives and counter motives from which he acted. “Because he tried to slip away from everything that was unpleasant, and cared for nothing so much as his own safety, he came at last to commit such deeds as make a man infamous152.” So poor Romola tells her son, as a warning, and adds: “If you make it the rule of your life to escape from what is disagreeable, calamity153 may come just the same, and it would be calamity falling on a base mind, which is the one form of sorrow that has no balm in it.”
Out of this passion for the analysis of motives comes the strong character, slightly gnarled and knotted by natural circumstances, as trees that are twisted and misshapen by storms and floods—or characters gnarled by some interior force working in conjunction with or in opposition154 to outward circumstances. She draws no monstrosities, or monsters, thus avoiding on the one side romance and on the other burlesque155. She keeps to life—the life that fails from “the meanness of opportunity,” or is “dispersed among hindrances” or “wrestles” unavailingly “with universal pressure.”
Why had Mr. Gilfil in those late years of his beneficent life “more of the knots and ruggedness156 of poor human nature than there lay any clear hint of it in the open-eyed, loving” young p. 18Maynard? Because “it is with men as with trees: if you lop off their finest branches into which they were pouring their young life-juice, the wounds will be healed over with some rough boss, some odd excrescence, and what might have been a grand tree, expanding into liberal shade, is but a whimsical, misshapen trunk. Many an irritating fault, many an unlovely oddity, has come of a hard sorrow which has crushed and maimed the nature just when it was expanding into plenteous beauty; and the trivial, erring157 life, which we visit with our harsh blame, may be but as the unsteady motion of a man whose best limb is withered158. The dear old Vicar had been sketched159 out by nature as a noble tree. The heart of him was sound, the grain was of the finest, and in the gray-haired man, with his slipshod talk and caustic160 tongue, there was the main trunk of the same brave, faithful, tender nature that had poured out the finest, freshest forces of its life-current in a first and only love.”
Her style is influenced by her purpose—may be said, indeed, to be created by it. The excellences161 and the blemishes162 of the diction come of the end sought to be attained by it. Its subtleties163 and obscurities were equally inevitable. Analytical164 thinking takes on an analytical phraseology. It is a striking instance of a mental habit creating a vocabulary. The method of thought produces the form of rhetoric. Some of the sentences are mental landscapes. The meaning seems to be in motion on the page. It is elusive165 from its very subtlety166. It is more our analyst167 than her character of Rufus Lyon, who “would fain find language subtle enough to follow the utmost intricacies of the soul’s pathways.” Mrs. Transome’s “lancet-edged epigrams” are dull in comparison with her own. She uses them with startling success in dissecting168 motive and analyzing169 feeling. They deserve as great renown14 as “Nélaton’s probe.”
For example: “Examine your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, especially about your own feelings—p. 19much harder than to say something fine about them which is not the exact truth.” That ought to make such a revelation of the religious diary-keeper to himself as to make him ashamed of himself. And this will fit in here: “Our consciences are not of the same pattern, an inner deliverance of fixed170 laws—they are the voice of sensibilities as various as our memories;” and this: “Every strong feeling makes to itself a conscience of its own—has its own piety.”
Who can say that the joints171 of his armor are not open to this thrust? “The lapse172 of time during which a given event has not happened is in the logic133 of habit, constantly alleged173 as a reason why the event should never happen, even when the lapse of time is precisely174 the added condition which makes the event imminent175. A man will tell you that he worked in a mine for forty years unhurt by an accident as a reason why he should apprehend176 no danger, though the roof is beginning to sink.” Silas Marner lost his money through his “sense of security,” which “more frequently springs from habit than conviction.” He went unrobbed for fifteen years, which supplied the only needed condition for his being robbed now. A compensation for stupidity: “If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar that lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.” Who does not at once recognize “that mixture of pushing forward and being pushed forward” as “the brief history of most human beings?” Who has not seen “advancement hindered by impetuous candor177?” or “private grudges178 christened by the name of public zeal179?” or “a church built with an exuberance180 of faith and a deficiency of funds?” or a man “who would march determinedly181 along the road he thought best, but who was easily convinced which was best?” or a preacher “whose oratory182 was like a Belgian railway horn, which shows praiseworthy intentions inadequately183 fulfilled?”
There is something chemical about such an analysis as this p. 20of Rosamond: “Every nerve and muscle was adjusted to the consciousness that she was being looked at. She was by nature an actress of parts that entered into her physique. She even acted her own character, and so well that she did not know it to be precisely her own!” Nor is the exactness of this any less cruel: “We may handle extreme opinions with impunity184, while our furniture and our dinner-giving link us to the established order.” Why not own that “the emptiness of all things is never so striking to us as when we fail in them?” Is it not better to avoid “following great reformers beyond the threshold of their own homes?” Does not “our moral sense learn the manners of good society?”
The lancet works impartially185, because the hand that holds it is the hand of a conscientious artist. She will endure the severest test you can apply to an artist in fiction. She does not betray any religious bias186 in her novels, which is all the more remarkable now that we find it in these essays. Nor is it at all remarkable that this bias is so very easily discovered in the novels by those who have found it in her essays! Whatever opinions she may have expressed in her critical reviews, she is not the Evangelical, or the Puritan, or the Jew, or the Methodist, or the Dissenting187 Minister, or the Churchman, any more than she is the Radical188, the Liberal, or the Tory, who talks in the pages of her fiction.
Every side has its say, every prejudice its voice, and every prejudice and side and vagary189 even has the philosophical190 reason given for it, and the charitable explanation applied191 to it. She analyzes192 the religious motives without obtrusive193 criticism or acrid194 cynicism or nauseous cant—whether of the orthodox or heretical form.
The art of fiction has nothing more elevated, or more touching195, or fairer to every variety of religious experience, than the delineation of the motives that actuated Dinah Morris the Methodist preacher, Deronda the Jew, Dorothea the Puritan, Adam and Seth Bede, and Janet Dempster.
Who can object to this? “Religious ideas have the fate of p. 21melodies, which, once set afloat in the world, are taken up by all sorts of instruments, some of them woefully coarse, feeble, or out of tune77, until people are in danger of crying out that the melody itself is detestable.” Is it not one of the “mixed results of revivals” that “some gain a religious vocabulary rather than a religious experience?” Is there a descendant of the Puritans who will not relish196 the fair play of this? “They might give the name of piety to much that was only Puritanic egoism; they might call many things sin that were not sin, but they had at least the feeling that sin was to be avoided and resisted, and color-blindness, which may mistake drab for scarlet197, is better than total blindness, which sees no distinction of color at all.” Is not Adam Bede justified198 in saying that “to hear some preachers you’d think a man must be doing nothing all his life but shutting his eyes and looking at what’s going on in the inside of him,” or that “the doctrines are like finding names for your feelings so that you can talk of them when you’ve never known them?” Read all she has said before you object to anything she has said. Then see whether you will find fault with her for delineating the motives of those with whom “great illusions” are mistaken for “great faith;” of those “whose celestial199 intimacies200 do not improve their domestic manners,” however “holy” they may claim to be; of those who “contrive to conciliate the consciousness of filthy201 rags with the best damask;” of those “whose imitative piety and native worldliness is equally sincere;” of those who “think the invisible powers will be soothed202 by a bland203 parenthesis204 here and there, coming from a man of property”—parenthetical recognition of the Almighty205! May not “religious scruples206 be like spilled needles, making one afraid of treading or sitting down, or even eating?”
But if this is a great mind fascinated with the insoluble enigma207 of human motives, it is a mind profoundly in sympathy with those who are puzzling hopelessly over the riddle208 or are struggling hopelessly in its toils209. She is “on a level and in the press with them as they struggle their way along the stony210 p. 22road through the crowd of unloving fellow-men.” She says “the only true knowledge of our fellows is that which enables us to feel with them, which gives us a finer ear for the heart-pulses that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion.” No artist in fiction ever had a finer ear or a more human sympathy for the straggler who “pushes manfully on” and “falls at last,” leaving “the crowd to close over the space he has left.” Her extraordinary skill in disclosing “the peculiar211 combination of outward with inward facts which constitute a man’s critical actions,” only makes her the more charitable in judging them. “Until we know what this combination has been, or will be, it will be better not to think ourselves wise about” the character that results. “There is a terrible coercion212 in our deeds which may first turn the honest man into a deceiver, and then reconcile him to the change. And for this reason the second wrong presents itself to him in the guise213 of the only practicable right.” There is nothing of the spirit of “served him right,” or “just what she deserved,” or “they ought to have known better,” in George Eliot. That is not in her line. The opposite of that is exactly in her line. This is characteristic of her: “In this world there are so many of these common, coarse people, who have no picturesque214 or sentimental215 wretchedness! And it is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy, and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes.” She does not leave them out. Her books are full of them, and of a Christly charity and plea for them. Who can ever forget little Tiny, “hidden and uncared for as the pulse of anguish216 in the breast of the bird that has fluttered down to its nest with the long-sought food, and has found the nest torn and empty?” There is nothing in fiction to surpass in pathos217 the picture of the death of Mrs. Amos Barton. George Eliot’s fellow-feeling comes of the habit she ascribes to Daniel Deronda, “the habit of thinking herself imaginatively into the experience of others.” That is the reason why her novels come home so pitilessly to those who p. 23have had a deep experience of human life. These are the men and women whom she fascinates and alienates218. I know strong men and brave women who are afraid of her books, and say so. It is because of her realness, her unrelenting fidelity219 to human nature and human life. It is because the analysis is so delicate, subtle, and far-in. Hence the atmosphere of sadness that pervades220 her pages. It was unavoidable. To see only the behavior, as Dickens did, amuses us; to study only the motive at the root of the behavior, as George Eliot does, saddens us. The humor of Mrs. Poyser and the wit of Mrs. Transome only deepen the pathos by relieving it. There is hardly a sarcasm221 in these books but has its pensive222 undertone.
It is all in the key of “Ye Banks and Braes o’ Bonnie Doon,” and that would be an appropriate key for a requiem223 over the grave of George Eliot.
All her writings are now before the world, and are accessible to all. They have taken their place, and will keep their place, high among the writings of those of our age who have made that age illustrious in the history of the English tongue.
p. 25THE ESSAYS OF “GEORGE ELIOT.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
allusions
|
|
| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
quotation
|
|
| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
substantive
|
|
| adj.表示实在的；本质的、实质性的；独立的；n.实词，实名词；独立存在的实体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
predilections
|
|
| n.偏爱，偏好，嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
anonymously
|
|
| ad.用匿名的方式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
pointedly
|
|
| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
copious
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
renowned
|
|
| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
renown
|
|
| n.声誉，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
abridgment
|
|
| n.删节，节本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
compliance
|
|
| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
wittiest
|
|
| 机智的，言辞巧妙的，情趣横生的( witty的最高级 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
delineation
|
|
| n.记述；描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rhetoric
|
|
| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
forte
|
|
| n.长处，擅长；adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
satirist
|
|
| n.讽刺诗作者，讽刺家，爱挖苦别人的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
illustrate
|
|
| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
laborious
|
|
| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
painstaking
|
|
| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
translucent
|
|
| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
wriggling
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
trout
|
|
| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
expeditiously
|
|
| adv.迅速地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
panorama
|
|
| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
dissect
|
|
| v.分割；解剖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
consistency
|
|
| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
subservient
|
|
| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
portrays
|
|
| v.画像( portray的第三人称单数 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
dissects
|
|
| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的第三人称单数 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
hindrances
|
|
| 阻碍者( hindrance的名词复数 )； 障碍物； 受到妨碍的状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
labors
|
|
| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
wrestles
|
|
| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的第三人称单数 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
forefather
|
|
| n.祖先；前辈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
doctrines
|
|
| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
abeyance
|
|
| n.搁置，缓办，中止，产权未定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
unravelling
|
|
| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
repentance
|
|
| n.懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
epic
|
|
| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
incompetence
|
|
| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
analytic
|
|
| adj.分析的，用分析方法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
acumen
|
|
| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
sarcastic
|
|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
wondrous
|
|
| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
windings
|
|
| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
penetrate
|
|
| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
vibration
|
|
| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
pout
|
|
| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
harp
|
|
| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
canine
|
|
| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
conscientiousness
|
|
| 责任心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
condenser
|
|
| n.冷凝器；电容器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
honeymoon
|
|
| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
habitually
|
|
| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
desolateness
|
|
| 孤独 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
stifling
|
|
| a.令人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
vistas
|
|
| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
embarked
|
|
| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
marital
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
perverse
|
|
| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
puritanical
|
|
| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
pate
|
|
| n.头顶；光顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
lottery
|
|
| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
diagnosis
|
|
| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
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： |
|
|
|
|
120
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
forgery
|
|
| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
taint
|
|
| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
coveted
|
|
| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
purgatory
|
|
| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
motiveless
|
|
| adj.无动机的，无目的的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
127
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
skilful
|
|
| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
equivocation
|
|
| n.模棱两可的话，含糊话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
fang
|
|
| n.尖牙，犬牙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
incompatible
|
|
| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
gulling
|
|
| v.欺骗某人( gull的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
142
restitution
|
|
| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
shudders
|
|
| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
scrupulous
|
|
| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
tableau
|
|
| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
disastrous
|
|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
averting
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的现在分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
burlesque
|
|
| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
ruggedness
|
|
| 险峻，粗野； 耐久性； 坚固性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
erring
|
|
| 做错事的，错误的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
caustic
|
|
| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
excellences
|
|
| n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 )；（只用于所修饰的名词后）杰出的；卓越的；出类拔萃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
blemishes
|
|
| n.（身体的）瘢点( blemish的名词复数 )；伤疤；瑕疵；污点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
subtleties
|
|
| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
analytical
|
|
| adj.分析的；用分析法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
elusive
|
|
| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
analyst
|
|
| n.分析家，化验员；心理分析学家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
dissecting
|
|
| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
analyzing
|
|
| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
apprehend
|
|
| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
candor
|
|
| n.坦白，率真 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
grudges
|
|
| 不满，怨恨，妒忌( grudge的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
exuberance
|
|
| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
determinedly
|
|
| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
oratory
|
|
| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
inadequately
|
|
| ad.不够地；不够好地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
impunity
|
|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
impartially
|
|
| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
bias
|
|
| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
dissenting
|
|
| adj.不同意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
vagary
|
|
| n.妄想，不可测之事，异想天开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
analyzes
|
|
| v.分析( analyze的第三人称单数 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
obtrusive
|
|
| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
acrid
|
|
| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
celestial
|
|
| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
intimacies
|
|
| 亲密( intimacy的名词复数 )； 密切； 亲昵的言行； 性行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
filthy
|
|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
parenthesis
|
|
| n.圆括号，插入语，插曲，间歇，停歇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
riddle
|
|
| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
toils
|
|
| 网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
coercion
|
|
| n.强制，高压统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
alienates
|
|
| v.使疏远( alienate的第三人称单数 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
pervades
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
sarcasm
|
|
| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
pensive
|
|
| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
requiem
|
|
| n.安魂曲，安灵曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |