The first use I made of the leisure which I gained by disconnecting myself from the Review, was to finish the Logic3. In July and August, 1838, I had found an interval4 in which to execute what was still undone5 of the original draft of the Third Book. In working out the logical theory of those laws of nature which are not laws of Causation, nor corollaries from such laws, I was led to recognize kinds as realities in nature, and not mere6 distinctions for convenience; a light which I had not obtained when the First Book was written, and which made it necessary for me to modify and enlarge several chapters of that Book. The Book on Language and Classification, and the chapter on the Classification of Fallacies, were drafted in the autumn of the same year; the remainder of the work, in the summer and autumn of 1840. From April following to the end of 1841, my spare time was devoted7 to a complete rewriting of the book from its commencement. It is in this way that all my books have been composed. They were always written at least twice over; a first draft of the entire work was completed to the very end of the subject, then the whole begun again de novo; but incorporating, in the second writing, all sentences and parts of sentences of the old draft, which appeared as suitable to my purpose as anything which I could write in lieu of them. I have found great advantages in this system of double redaction. It combines, better than any other mode of composition, the freshness and vigour8 of the first conception, with the superior precision and completeness resulting from prolonged thought. In my own case, moreover, I have found that the patience necessary for a careful elaboration of the details of composition and expression, costs much less effort after the entire subject has been once gone through, and the substance of all that I find to say has in some manner, however imperfect, been got upon paper. The only thing which I am careful, in the first draft, to make as perfect as I am able, is the arrangement. If that is bad, the whole thread on which the ideas string themselves becomes twisted; thoughts placed in a wrong connexion are not expounded9 in a manner that suits the right, and a first draft with this original vice10 is next to useless as a foundation for the final treatment.
During the re-writing of the Logic, Dr. Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences made its appearance; a circumstance fortunate for me, as it gave me what I greatly desired, a full treatment of the subject by an antagonist11, and enabled me to present my ideas with greater clearness and emphasis as well as fuller and more varied12 development, in defending them against definite objections, or confronting them distinctly with an opposite theory. The controversies13 with Dr. Whewell, as well as much matter derived15 from Comte, were first introduced into the book in the course of the re-writing.
At the end of 1841, the book being ready for the press, I offered it to Murray, who kept it until too late for publication that season, and then refused it, for reasons which could just as well have been given at first. But I have had no cause to regret a rejection16 which led to my offering it to Mr Parker, by whom it was published in the spring of 1843. My original expectations of success were extremely limited. Archbishop Whately had, indeed, rehabilitated17 the name of Logic, and the study of the forms, rules, and fallacies of Ratiocination18; and Dr. Whewell's writings had begun to excite an interest in the other part of my subject, the theory of induction19. A treatise20, however, on a matter so abstract, could not be expected to be popular; it could only be a book for students, and students on such subjects were not only (at least in England) few, but addicted21 chiefly to the opposite school of metaphysics, the ontological and "innate22 principles" school. I therefore did not expect that the book would have many readers, or approvers; and looked for little practical effect from it, save that of keeping the tradition unbroken of what I thought a better philosophy. What hopes I had of exciting any immediate23 attention, were mainly grounded on the polemical propensities25 of Dr Whewell; who, I thought, from observation of his conduct in other cases, would probably do something to bring the book into notice, by replying, and that promptly26, to the attack on his opinions. He did reply but not till 1850, just in time for me to answer him in the third edition. How the book came to have, for a work of the kind, so much success, and what sort of persons compose the bulk of those who have bought, I will not venture to say read, it, I have never thoroughly27 understood. But taken in conjunction with the many proofs which have since been given of a revival28 of speculation29, speculation too of a free kind, in many quarters, and above all (where at one time I should have least expected it) in the Universities, the fact becomes partially30 intelligible31. I have never indulged the illusion that the book had made any considerable impression on philosophical33 opinion. The German, or à priori view of human knowledge, and of the knowing faculties34, is likely for some time longer (though it may be hoped in a diminishing degree) to predominate among those who occupy themselves with such inquiries35, both here and on the Continent. But the "System of Logic" supplies what was much wanted, a text-book of the opposite doctrine36 — that which derives37 all knowledge from experience, and all moral and intellectual qualities principally from the direction given to the associations. I make as humble38 an estimate as anybody of what either an analysis of logical processes, or any possible canons of evidence, can do by themselves, towards guiding or rectifying40 the operations of the understanding. Combined with other requisites42, I certainly do think them of great use; but whatever may be the practical value of a true philosophy of these matters, it is hardly possible to exaggerate the mischiefs45 of a false one. The notion that truths external to the mind may be known by intuition or consciousness, independently of observation and experience, is, I am persuaded, in these times, the great intellectual support of false doctrines46 and bad institutions. By the aid of this theory, every inveterate47 belief and every intense feeling, of which the origin is not remembered, is enabled to dispense48 with the obligation of justifying49 itself by reason, and is erected51 into its own all-sufficient voucher52 and justification53. There never was such an instrument devised for consecrating54 all deep-seated prejudices. And the chief strength of this false philosophy in morals, politics, and religion, lies in the appeal which it is accustomed to make to the evidence of mathematics and of the cognate55 branches of physical science. To expel it from these, is to drive it from its stronghold: and because this had never been effectually done, the intuitive school, even after what my father had written in his Analysis of the Mind, had in appearance, and as far as published writings were concerned, on the whole the best of the argument. In attempting to clear up the real nature of the evidence of mathematical and physical truths, the "System of Logic" met the intuitive philosophers on ground on which they had previously56 been deemed unassailable; and gave its own explanation, from experience and association, of that peculiar57 character of what are called necessary truths, which is adduced as proof that their evidence must come from a deeper source than experience. Whether this has been done effectually, is still sub judice; and even then, to deprive a mode of thought so strongly rooted in human prejudices and partialities, of its mere speculative58 support, goes but a very little way towards overcoming it; but though only a step, it is a quite indispensable one; for since, after all, prejudice can only be successfully combated by philosophy, no way can really be made against it permanently60 until it has been shown not to have philosophy on its side.
Being now released from any active concern in temporary politics, and from any literary occupation involving personal communication with contributors and others, I was enabled to indulge the inclination61, natural to thinking persons when the age of boyish vanity is once past, for limiting my own society to a very few persons. General society, as now carried on in England, is so insipid62 an affair, even to the persons who make it what it is, that it is kept up for any reason rather than the pleasure it affords. All serious discussion on matters on which opinions differ, being considered ill-bred, and the national deficiency in liveliness and sociability63 having prevented the cultivation64 of the art of talking agreeably on trifles, in which the French of the last century so much excelled, the sole attraction of what is called society to those who are not at the top of the tree, is the hope of being aided to climb a little higher in it; while to those who are already at the top, it is chiefly a compliance65 with custom, and with the supposed requirements of their station. To a person of any but a very common order in thought or feeling, such society, unless he has personal objects to serve by it, must be supremely66 unattractive: and most people, in the present day, of any really high class of intellect, make their contact with it so slight, and at such long intervals67, as to be almost considered as retiring from it altogether. Those persons of any mental superiority who do otherwise, are, almost without exception, greatly deteriorated68 by it. Not to mention loss of time, the tone of their feelings is lowered: they become less in earnest about those of their opinions respecting which they must remain silent in the society they frequent: they come to look upon their most elevated objects as unpractical, or, at least, too remote from realization69 to be more than a vision, or a theory. and if, more fortunate than most, they retain their higher principles unimpaired, yet with respect to the persons and affairs of their own day they insensibly adopt the modes of feeling and judgment70 in which they can hope for sympathy from the company they keep. A person of high intellect should never go into unintellectual society unless he can enter it as an apostle; yet he is the only person with high objects who can safely enter it at all. Persons even of intellectual aspirations71 had much better, if they can, make their habitual72 associates of at least their equals, and, as far as possible, their superiors, in knowledge, intellect, and elevation73 of sentiment. Moreover, if the character is formed, and the mind made up, on the few cardinal74 points of human opinion, agreement of conviction and feeling on these, has been felt in all times to be an essential requisite43 of anything worthy75 the name of friendship, in a really earnest mind. All these circumstances united, made the number very small of those whose society, and still more whose intimacy76, I now voluntarily sought.
Among these, by far the principal was the incomparable friend of whom I have already spoken. At this period she lived mostly with one young daughter, in a quiet part of the country, and only occasionally in town, with her first husband, Mr Taylor. I visited her equally in both places; and was greatly indebted to the strength of character which enabled her to disregard the false interpretations78 liable to be put on the frequency of my visits to her while living generally apart from Mr Taylor, and on our occasionally travelling together, though in all other respects our conduct during those years gave not the slightest ground for any other supposition than the true one, that our relation to each other at that time was one of strong affection and confidential79 intimacy only. For though we did not consider the ordinances80 of society binding81 on a subject so entirely82 personal, we did feel bound that our conduct should be such as in no degree to bring discredit83 on her husband, nor therefore on herself.
In this third period (as it may be termed) of my mental progress, which now went hand in hand with hers, my opinions gained equally in breadth and depth, I understood more things, and those which I had understood before, I now understood more thoroughly. I had now completely turned back from what there had been of excess in my reaction against Benthamism. I had, at the height of that reaction, certainly become much more indulgent to the common opinions of society and the world, and more willing to be content with seconding the superficial improvement which had begun to take place in those common opinions, than became one whose convictions on so many points, differed fundamentally from them. I was much more inclined, than I can now approve, to put in abeyance85 the more decidedly heretical part of my opinions, which I now look upon as almost the only ones, the assertion of which tends in any way to regenerate87 society. But in addition to this, our opinions were far more heretical than mine had been in the days of my most extreme Benthamism. In those days I had seen little further than the old school of political economists88 into the possibilities of fundamental improvement in social arrangements. Private property, as now understood, and inheritance, appeared to me, as to them, the dernier mot of legislation: and I looked no further than to mitigating89 the inequalities consequent on these institutions, by getting rid of primogeniture and entails90. The notion that it was possible to go further than this in removing the injustice91 — for injustice it is, whether admitting of a complete remedy or not — involved in the fact that some are born to riches and the vast majority to poverty, I then reckoned chimerical92, and only hoped that by universal education, leading to voluntary restraint on population, the portion of the poor might be made more tolerable. In short, I was a democrat93, but not the least of a Socialist94. We were now much less democrats95 than I had been, because so long as education continues to be so wretchedly imperfect, we dreaded96 the ignorance and especially the selfishness and brutality99 of the mass: but our ideal of ultimate improvement went far beyond Democracy, and would class us decidedly under the general designation of Socialists100. While we repudiated101 with the greatest energy that tyranny of society over the individual which most Socialistic systems are supposed to involve, we yet looked forward to a time when society will no longer be divided into the idle and the industrious102; when the rule that they who do not work shall not eat, will be applied103 not to paupers104 only, but impartially105 to all; when the division of the produce of labour, instead of depending, as in so great a degree it now does, on the accident of birth, will be made by concert on an acknowledged principle of justice; and when it will no longer either be, or be thought to be, impossible for human beings to exert themselves strenuously106 in procuring108 benefits which are not to be exclusively their own, but to be shared with the society they belong to. The social problem of the future we considered to be, how to unite the greatest individual liberty of action, with a common ownership in the raw material of the globe, and an equal participation109 of all in the benefits of combined labour. We had not the presumption110 to suppose that we could already foresee, by what precise form of institutions these objects could most effectually be attained111, or at how near or how distant a period they would become practicable. We saw clearly that to render any such social transformation112 either possible or desirable, an equivalent change of character must take place both in the uncultivated herd113 who now compose the labouring masses, and in the immense majority of their employers. Both these classes must learn by practice to labour and combine for generous, or at all events for public and social purposes, and not, as hitherto, solely114 for narrowly interested ones. But the capacity to do this has always existed in mankind, and is not, nor is ever likely to be, extinct. Education, habit, and the cultivation of the sentiments, will make a common man dig or weave for his country, as readily as fight for his country. True enough, it is only by slow degrees, and a system of culture prolonged through successive generations, that men in general can be brought up to this point. But the hindrance115 is not in the essential constitution of human nature. Interest in the common good is at present so weak a motive116 in the generality not because it can never be otherwise, but because the mind is not accustomed to dwell on it as it dwells from morning till night on things which tend only to personal advantage. When called into activity, as only self-interest now is, by the daily course of life, and spurred from behind by the love of distinction and the fear of shame, it is capable of producing, even in common men, the most strenuous107 exertions117 as well as the most heroic sacrifices. The deep-rooted selfishness which forms the general character of the existing state of society, is so deeply rooted, only because the whole course of existing institutions tends to foster it; modern institutions in some respects more than ancient, since the occasions on which the individual is called on to do anything for the public without receiving its pay, are far less frequent in modern life, than the smaller commonwealths118 of antiquity119. These considerations did not make us overlook the folly120 of premature121 attempts to dispense with the inducements of private interest in social affairs, while no substitute for them has been or can be provided: but we regarded all existing institutions and social arrangements as being (in a phrase I once heard from Austin) "merely provisional," and we welcomed with the greatest pleasure and interest all socialistic experiments by select individuals (such as the Co-operative Societies), which, whether they succeeded or failed, could not but operate as a most useful education of those who took part in them, by cultivating their capacity of acting122 upon motives123 pointing directly to the general good, or making them aware of the defects which render them and others incapable124 of doing so.
In the "Principles of Political Economy," these opinions were promulgated125, less clearly and fully59 in the first edition, rather more so in the second, and quite unequivocally in the third. The difference arose partly from the change of times, the first edition having been written and sent to press before the French Revolution of 1848, after which the public mind became more open to the reception of novelties in opinion, and doctrines appeared moderate which would have been thought very startling a short time before. In the first edition the difficulties of Socialism were stated so strongly, that the tone was on the whole that of opposition126 to it. In the year or two which followed, much time was given to the study of the best Socialistic writers on the Continent, and to meditation127 and discussion on the whole range of topics involved in the controversy128: and the result was that most of what had been written on the subject in the first edition was cancelled, and replaced by arguments and reflections which represent a more advanced opinion.
The Political Economy was far more rapidly executed than the Logic, or indeed than anything of importance which I had previously written. It was commenced in the autumn of 1845, and was ready for the press before the end of 1847. In this period of little more than two years there was an interval of six months during which the work was laid aside, while I was writing articles in the Morning Chronicle (which unexpectedly entered warmly into my purpose) urging the formation of peasant properties on the waste lands of Ireland. This was during the period of the Famine, the winter of 1846-47, when the stern necessities of the time seemed to afford a chance of gaining attention for what appeared to me the only mode of combining relief to immediate destitution129 with permanent improvement of the social and economical condition of the Irish people. But the idea was new and strange; there was no English precedent130 for such a proceeding131: and the profound ignorance of English politicians and the English public concerning all social phenomena132 not generally met with in England (however common elsewhere), made my endeavours an entire failure. Instead of a great operation on the waste lands, and the conversion133 of cottiers into proprietors134, Parliament passed a Poor Law for maintaining them as paupers: and if the nation has not since found itself in inextricable difficulties from the joint135 operation of the old evils and the quack136 remedy it is indebted for its deliverance to that most unexpected and surprising fact, the depopulation of ireland, commenced by famine, and continued by emigration.
The rapid success of the Political Economy showed that the public wanted, and were prepared for such a book. Published early in 1848, an edition of a thousand copies was sold in less than a year. Another similar edition was published in the spring of 1849; and a third, of 1250 copies, early in 1852. It was, from the first, continually cited and referred to as an authority, because it was not a book merely of abstract science, but also of application, and treated Political Economy not as a thing by itself, but as a fragment of a greater whole; a branch of Social Philosophy, so interlinked with all the other branches, that its conclusions, even in its own peculiar province, are only true conditionally137, subject to interference and counteraction139 from causes not directly within its scope: while to the character of a practical guide it has no pretension140, apart from other classes of considerations. Political Economy, in truth, has never pretended to give advice to mankind with no lights but its own; though people who knew nothing but political economy (and therefore knew that ill) have taken upon themselves to advise, and could only do so by such lights as they had. But the numerous sentimental141 enemies of political economy, and its still more numerous interested enemies in sentimental guise142, have been very successful in gaining belief for this among other unmerited imputations against it, and the "Principles" having, in spite of the freedom of many of its opinions, become for the present the most popular treatise on the subject, has helped to disarm144 the enemies of so important a study. The amount of its worth as an exposition of the science, and the value of the different applications which it suggests, others of course must judge.
For a considerable time after this, I published no work of magnitude; though I still occasionally wrote in periodicals, and my correspondence (much of it with persons quite unknown to me), on subjects of public interest, swelled145 to a considerable bulk. During these years I wrote or commenced various Essays, for eventual146 publication, on some of the fundamental questions of human and social life, with regard to several of which I have already much exceeded the severity of the Horatian precept147. I continued to watch with keen interest the progress of public events. But it was not, on the whole, very encouraging to me. The European reaction after 1848, and the success of an unprincipled usurper148 in December, 1851, put an end, as it seemed, to all present hope for freedom or social improvement in France and the Continent. In England, I had seen and continued to see many of the opinions of my youth obtain general recognition, and many of the reforms in institutions, for which I had through life contended, either effected or in course of being so. But these changes had been attended with much less benefit to human well-being149 than I should formerly150 have anticipated, because they had produced very little improvement in that which all real amelioration in the lot of mankind depends on, their intellectual and moral state: and it might even be questioned if the various causes of deterioration151 which had been at work in the meanwhile, had not more than counterbalanced the tendencies to improvement. I had learnt from experience that many false opinions may be exchanged for true ones, without in the least altering the habits of mind of which false opinions are the result. The English public, for example, are quite as raw and undiscerning on subjects of political economy since the nation has been converted to free-trade, as they were before; and are still further from having acquired better habits of thought and feeling, or being in any way better fortified152 against error, on subjects of a more elevated character. For, though they have thrown off certain errors, the general discipline of their minds, intellectually and morally, is not altered. I am now convinced, that no great improvements in the lot of mankind are possible, until a great change takes place in the fundamental constitution of their modes of thought. The old opinions in religion, morals, and politics, are so much discredited153 in the more intellectual minds as to have lost the greater part of their efficacy for good, while they have still life enough in them to be a powerful obstacle to the growing up of any better opinions on those subjects. When the philosophic32 minds of the world can no longer believe its religion, or can only believe it with modifications154 amounting to an essential change of its character, a transitional period commences, of weak convictions, paralysed intellects, and growing laxity of principle, which cannot terminate until a renovation155 has been effected in the basis of their belief leading to the elevation of some faith, whether religious or merely human, which they can really believe: and when things are in this state, all thinking or writing which does not tend to promote such a renovation, is of very little value beyond the moment. Since there was little in the apparent condition of the public mind, indicative of any tendency in this direction, my view of the immediate prospects156 of human improvement was not sanguine158. More recently a spirit of free speculation has sprung up, giving a more encouraging prospect157 of the gradual mental emancipation159 of England; and concurring160 with the renewal161 under better auspices162, of the movement for political freedom in the rest of Europe, has given to the present condition of human affairs a more hopeful aspect.
Between the time of which I have now spoken, and the present, took place the most important events of my private life. The first of these was my marriage, in April, 1851, to the lady whose incomparable worth had made her friendship the greatest source to me both of happiness and of improvement, during many years in which we never expected to be in any closer relation to one another. Ardently163 as I should have aspired164 to this complete union of our lives at any time in the course of my existence at which it had been practicable, I, as much as my wife, would far rather have foregone that privilege for ever, than have owed it to the premature death of one for whom I had the sincerest respect, and she the strongest affection. That event, however, having taken place in July, 1849, it was granted to me to derive14 from that evil my own greatest good, by adding to the partnership165 of thought, feeling, and writing which had long existed, a partnership of our entire existence. For seven and a half years that blessing166 was mine; for seven and a half only! I can say nothing which could describe, even in the faintest manner, what that loss was and is. But because I know that she would have wished it, I endeavour to make the best of what life I have left, and to work on for her purposes with such diminished strength as can be derived from thoughts of her, and communion with her memory.
During the years which intervened between the commencement of my married life and the catastrophe167 which closed it, the principal occurrences of my outward existence (unless I count as such a first attack of the family disease, and a consequent journey of more than six months for the recovery of health, in Italy, Sicily, and Greece) had reference to my position in the India House. In 1856 I was promoted to the rank of chief of the office in which I had served for upwards168 of thirty-three years. The appointment, that of Examiner of India Correspondence, was the highest, next to that of Secretary, in the East India Company's home service, involving the general superintendence of all the correspondence with the Indian Governments, except the military, naval169, and financial. I held this office as long as it continued to exist, being a little more than two years; after which it pleased Parliament, in other words Lord Palmerston, to put an end to the East india Company as a branch of the government of India under the Crown, and convert the administration of that country into a thing to be scrambled170 for by the second and third class of English parliamentary politicians. I was the chief manager of the resistance which the Company made to their own political extinction171. To the letters and petitions I wrote for them, and the concluding chapter of my treatise on Representative Government, I must refer for my opinions on the folly and mischief44 of this ill-considered change. Personally I considered myself a gainer by it, as I had given enough of my life to india, and was not unwilling172 to retire on the liberal compensation granted. After the change was consummated173, Lord Stanley, the first Secretary of State for India, made me the honourable174 offer of a seat in the Council, and the proposal was subsequently renewed by the Council itself, on the first occasion of its having to supply a vacancy175 in its own body. But the conditions of Indian government under the new system made me anticipate nothing but useless vexation and waste of effort from any participation in it: and nothing that has since happened has had any tendency to make me regret my refusal.
During the two years which immediately preceded the cessation of my official life, my wife and I were working together at the "Liberty." I had first planned and written it as a short essay in 1854. It was in mounting the steps of the Capitol, in January, 1855, that the thought first arose of converting it into a volume. None of my writings have been either so carefully composed, or so sedulously176 corrected as this. After it had been written as usual twice over, we kept it by us, bringing it out from time to time, and going through it de novo, reading, weighing, and criticizing every sentence. Its final revision was to have been a work of the winter of 1858-9, the first after my retirement177, which we had arranged to pass in the South of Europe. That hope and every other were frustrated178 by the most unexpected and bitter calamity179 of her death — at Avignon, on our way to Montpellier, from a sudden attack of pulmonary congestion180.
Since then I have sought for such allegation as my state admitted of, by the mode of life which most enabled me to feel her still near me. I bought a cottage as close as possible to the place where she is buried, and there her daughter (my fellow-sufferer and now my chief comfort) and I, live constantly during a great portion of the year. My objects in life are solely those which were hers; my pursuits and occupations those in which she shared, or sympathized, and which are indissolubly associated with her. Her memory is to me a religion, and her approbation181 the standard by which, summing up as it does all worthiness182, I endeavour to regulate my life.
In resuming my pen some years after closing the preceding narrative183, I am influenced by a desire not to leave incomplete the record, for the sake of which chiefly this biographical sketch184 was undertaken, of the obligations I owe to those who have either contributed essentially185 to my own mental development or had a direct share in my writings and in whatever else of a public nature I have done. In the preceding pages, this record, so far as it relates to my wife, is not so detailed186 and precise as it ought to be; and since I lost her, I have had other help, not less deserving and requiring acknowledgment.
When two persons have their thoughts and speculations187 completely in common; when all subjects of intellectual or moral interest are discussed between them in daily life, and probed to much greater depths than are usually or conveniently sounded in writings intended for general readers; when they set out from the same principles, and arrive at their conclusions by processes pursued jointly188, it is of little consequence in respect to the question of originality189, which of them holds the pen; the one who contributes least to the composition may contribute most to the thought; the writings which result are the joint product of both, and it must often be impossible to disentangle their respective parts, and affirm that this belongs to one and that to the other. In this wide sense, not only during the years of our married life, but during many of the years of confidential friendship which preceded it, all my published writings were as much my wife's work as mine; her share in them constantly increasing as years advanced. But in certain cases, what belongs to her can be distinguished190, and specially97 identified. Over and above the general influence which her mind had over mine, the most valuable ideas and features in these joint productions — those which have been most fruitful of important results, and have contributed most to the success and reputation of the works themselves — originated with her, were emanations from her mind, my part in them being no greater than in any of the thoughts which I found in previous writers, and made my own only by incorporating them with my own system of thought. During the greater part of my literary life I have performed the office in relation to her, which from a rather early period I had considered as the most useful part that I was qualified191 to take in the domain192 of thought, that of an interpreter of original thinkers, and mediator193 between them and the public; for I had always a humble opinion of my own powers as an original thinker, except in abstract science (logic, metaphysics, and the theoretic principles of political economy and politics), but thought myself much superior to most of my contemporaries in willingness and ability to learn from everybody; as I found hardly any one who made such a point of examining what was said in defence of all opinions, however new or however old, in the conviction that even if they were errors there might be a substratum of truth underneath194 them, and that in any case the discovery of what it was that made them plausible195, would be a benefit to truth. I had, in consequence, marked out this as a sphere of usefulness in which I was under a special obligation to make myself active: the more so, as the acquaintance I had formed with the ideas of the Coleridgians, of the German thinkers, and of Carlyle, all of them fiercely opposed to the mode of thought in which I had been brought up, had convinced me that along with much error they possessed196 much truth, which was veiled from minds otherwise capable of receiving it by the transcendental and mystical phraseology in which they were accustomed to shut it up, and from which they neither cared, nor knew how, to disengage it; and I did not despair of separating the truth from the error, and expressing it in terms which would be intelligible and not repulsive197 to those on my own side in philosophy. Thus prepared, it will easily be believed that when I came into close intellectual communion with a person of the most eminent198 faculties, whose genius, as it grew and unfolded itself in thought, continually struck out truths far in advance of me, but in which I could not, as I had done in those others, detect any mixture of error, the greatest part of my mental growth consisted in the assimilation of those truths, and the most valuable part of my intellectual work was in building the bridges and clearing the paths which connected them with my general system of thought.5
The first of my books in which her share was conspicuous199 was the "Principles of Political Economy." The "System of Logic" owed little to her except in the minuter matters of composition, in which respect my writings, both great and small, have largely benefited by her accurate and clear-sighted criticism.6 The chapter of the Political Economy which has had a greater influence on opinion than all the rest, that on "the Probable Future of the Labouring Classes," is entirely due to her. In the first draft of the book, that chapter did not exist. She pointed200 out the need of such a chapter, and the extreme imperfection of the book without it: she was the cause of my writing it; and the more general part of the chapter, the statement and discussion of the two opposite theories respecting the proper condition of the labouring classes, was wholly an exposition of her thoughts, often in words taken from her own lips. The purely201 scientific part of the Political Economy I did not learn from her; but it was chiefly her influence that gave to the book that general tone by which it is distinguished from all previous expositions of Political Economy that had any pretension to being scientific, and which has made it so useful in conciliating minds which those previous expositions had repelled202. This tone consisted chiefly in making the proper distinction between the laws of the Production of Wealth, which are real laws of nature, dependent on the properties of objects, and the modes of its Distribution, which, subject to certain conditions, depend on human will. The common run of political economists confuse these together, under the designation of economic laws, which they deem incapable of being defeated or modified by human effort; ascribing the same necessity to things dependent on the unchangeable conditions of our earthly existence, and to those which, being but the necessary consequences of particular social arrangements, are merely co-extensive with these: given certain institutions and customs, wages, profits, and rent will be determined203 by certain causes ; but this class of political economists drop the indispensable presupposition, and argue that these causes must, by an inherent necessity, against which no human means can avail, determine the shares which fall, in the division of the produce, to labourers, capitalists, and landlords. The "Principles of Political Economy" yielded to none of its predecessors204 in aiming at the scientific appreciation205 of the action of these causes, under the conditions which they presuppose; but it set the example of not treating those conditions as final. The economic generalizations206 which depend, not on necessities of nature but on those combined with the existing arrangements of society, it deals with only as provisional, and as liable to be much altered by the progress of social improvement. I had indeed partially learnt this view of things from the thoughts awakened207 in me by the speculations of the St. Simonians; but it was made a living principle pervading208 and animating209 the book by my wife's promptings. This example illustrates210 well the general character of what she contributed to my writings. What was abstract and purely scientific was generally mine; the properly human element came from her: in all that concerned the application of philosophy to the exigencies211 of human society and progress, I was her pupil, alike in boldness of speculation and cautiousness of practical judgment. For, on the one hand, she was much more courageous212 and far-sighted than without her I should have been, in anticipations213 of an order of things to come, in which many of the limited generalizations now so often confounded with universal principles will cease to be applicable. Those parts of my writings, and especially of the Political Economy, which contemplate215 possibilities in the future such as, when affirmed by Socialists, have in general been fiercely denied by political economists, would, but for her, either have been absent, or the suggestions would have been made much more timidly and in a more qualified form. But while she thus rendered me bolder in speculation on human affairs, her practical turn of mind, and her almost unerring estimate of practical obstacles, repressed in me all tendencies that were really visionary. Her mind invested all ideas in a concrete shape, and formed to itself a conception of how they would actually work: and her knowledge of the existing feelings and conduct of mankind was so seldom at fault, that the weak point in any unworkable suggestion seldom escaped her.
The "Liberty" was more directly and literally216 our joint production than anything else which bears my name, for there was not a sentence of it that was not several times gone through by us together, turned over in many ways, and carefully weeded of any faults, either in thought or expression, that we detected in it. It is in consequence of this that, although it never underwent her final revision, it far surpasses, as a mere specimen217 of composition, anything which has proceeded from me either before or since. With regard to the thoughts, it is difficult to identify any particular part or element as being more hers than all the rest. The whole mode of thinking of which the book was the expression, was emphatically hers. But I also was so thoroughly imbued219 with it, that the same thoughts naturally occurred to us both. That I was thus penetrated220 with it, however, I owe in a great degree to her. There was a moment in my mental progress when I might easily have fallen into a tendency towards over-government, both social and political; as there was also a moment when, by reaction from a contrary excess, I might have become a less thorough radical221 and democrat than I am. In both these points, as in many others, she benefited me as much by keeping me right where I was right, as by leading me to new truths, and ridding me of errors. My great readiness and eagerness to learn from everybody, and to make room in my opinions for every new acquisition by adjusting the old and the new to one another, might, but for her steadying influence, have seduced222 me into modifying my early opinions too much. She was in nothing more valuable to my mental development than by her just measure of the relative importance of different considerations, which often protected me from allowing to truths I had only recently learnt to see, a more important place in my thoughts than was properly their due.7
The "Liberty" is likely to survive longer than anything else that I have written (with the possible exception of the "Logic"), because the conjunction of her mind with mine has rendered it a kind of philosophic text-book of a single truth, which the changes progressively taking place in modern society tend to bring out into ever stronger relief: the importance, to man and society of a large variety in types of character, and of giving full freedom to human nature to expand itself in innumerable and conflicting directions. Nothing can better show how deep are the foundations of this truth, than the great impression made by the exposition of it at a time which, to superficial observation, did not seem to stand much in need of such a lesson. The fears we expressed, lest the inevitable223 growth of social equality and of the government of public opinion, should impose on mankind an oppressive yoke224 of uniformity in opinion and practice, might easily have appeared chimerical to those who looked more at present facts than at tendencies; for the gradual revolution that is taking place in society and institutions has, thus far, been decidedly Favourable225 to the development of new opinions, and has procured226 for them a much more unprejudiced hearing than they previously met with. But this is a feature belonging to periods of transition, when old notions and feelings have been unsettled, and no new doctrines have yet succeeded to their ascendancy228. At such times people of any mental activity, having given up many of their old beliefs, and not feeling quite sure that those they still retain can stand unmodified, listen eagerly to new opinions. But this state of things is necessarily transitory: some particular body oF doctrine in time rallies the majority round it, organizes social institutions and modes of action conformably to itself, education impresses this new creed229 upon the new generations without the mental processes that have led to it, and by degrees it acquires the very same power of compression, so long exercised by the creeds230 of which it had taken the place. Whether this noxious231 power will be exercised, depends on whether mankind have by that time become aware that it cannot be exercised without stunting232 and dwarfing233 human nature. It is then that the teachings of the "Liberty" will have their greatest value. And it is to be feared that they will retain that value a long time.
As regards originality, it has of course no other than that which every thoughtful mind gives to its own mode of conceiving and expressing truths which are common property. The leading thought of the book is one which though in many ages confined to insulated thinkers, mankind have probably at no time since the beginning of civilization been entirely without. To speak only of the last few generations, it is distinctly contained in the vein234 of important thought respecting education and culture, spread through the European mind by the labours and genius of Pestalozzi. The unqualified championship of it by Wilhelm von Humboldt is referred to in the book; but he by no means stood alone in his own country. During the early part of the present century the doctrine of the rights of individuality, and the claim of the moral nature to develop itself in its own way, was pushed by a whole school of German authors even to exaggeration; and the writings of Goethe, the most celebrated235 of all German authors, though not belonging to that or to any other school, are penetrated throughout by views of morals and of conduct in life, often in my opinion not defensible, but which are incessantly236 seeking whatever defence they admit of in the theory of the right and duty of self-development. In our own country before the book "On Liberty" was written, the doctrine of individuality had been enthusiastically asserted, in a style of vigorous declamation237 sometimes reminding one of Fichte, by Mr William Maccall, in a series of writings of which the most elaborate is entitled "Elements of Individualism:" and a remarkable238 American, Mr Warren, had framed a System of Society, on the foundation of "the Sovereignty of the individual," had obtained a number of followers239, and had actually commenced the formation of a Village Community (whether it now exists I know not), which, though bearing a superficial resemblance to some of the projects of Socialists, is diametrically opposite to them in principle, since it recognizes no authority whatever in Society over the individual, except to enforce equal Freedom of development for all individualities. As the book which bears my name claimed no originality for any of its doctrines, and was not intended to write their history, the only author who had preceded me in their assertion, of whom I thought it appropriate to say anything, was Humboldt, who furnished the motto to the work; although in one passage I borrowed from the Warrenites their phrase, the sovereignty of the individual. It is hardly necessary here to remark that there are abundant differences in detail, between the conception of the doctrine by any of the predecessors I have mentioned, and that set forth240 in the book.
After my irreparable loss, one of my earliest cares was to print and publish the treatise, so much of which was the work of her whom I had lost, and consecrate241 it to her memory. I have made no alteration242 or addition to it, nor shall I ever. Though it wants the last touch of her hand, no substitute for that touch shall ever be attempted by mine.
The political circumstances of the time induced me, shortly after, to complete and publish a pamphlet ("Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform"), part of which had been written some years previously on the occasion of one of the abortive244 Reform Bills, and had at the time been approved and revised by her. Its principal features were, hostility245 to the Ballot246 (a change of opinion in both of us, in which she rather preceded me), and a claim of representation for minorities; not, however, at that time going beyond the cumulative248 vote proposed by Mr Garth Marshall. In finishing the pamphlet for publication, with a view to the discussions on the Reform Bill of Lord Derby's and Mr Disraeli's Government in 1859, I added a third feature, a plurality of votes, to be given, not to property, but to proved superiority of education. This recommended itself to me as a means of reconciling the irresistible250 claim of every man or woman to be consulted, and to be allowed a voice, in the regulation of affairs which vitally concern them, with the superiority of weight justly due to opinions grounded on superiority of knowledge. The suggestion, however, was one which I had never discussed with my almost infallible counsellor, and I have no evidence that she would have concurred251 in it. As far as I have been able to observe, it has found favour with nobody. all who desire any sort of inequality in the electoral vote, desiring it in favour of property and not of intelligence or knowledge. If it ever overcomes the strong feeling which exists against it, this will only be after the establishment of a systematic252 National Education by which the various grades of politically valuable acquirement may be accurately253 defined and authenticated254. Without this it will always remain liable to strong, possibly conclusive255, objections; and with this, it would perhaps not be needed.
It was soon after the publication of "Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform," that I became acquainted with Mr Hare's admirable system of Personal Representation, which, in its present shape, was then for the first time published. I saw in this great practical and philosophical idea, the greatest improvement of which the system of representative government is susceptible256; an improvement which, in the most felicitous257 manner, exactly meets and cures the grand, and what before seemed the inherent, defect of the representative system; that of giving to a numerical majority all power, instead of only a power proportional to its numbers, and enabling the strongest party to exclude all weaker parties from making their opinions heard in the assembly of the nation, except through such opportunity as may be given to them by the accidentally unequal distribution of opinions in different localities. To these great evils nothing more than very imperfect palliatives had seemed possible; but Mr Hare's system affords a radical cure. This great discovery, for it is no less, in the political art, inspired me, as I believe it has inspired all thoughtful persons who have adopted it, with new and more sanguine hopes respecting the prospects of human society; by freeing the form of political institutions towards which the whole civilized258 world is manifestly and irresistibly259 tending, from the chief part of what seemed to qualify, or render doubtful, its ultimate benefits. Minorities, so long as they remain minorities, are, and ought to be, outvoted; but under arrangements which enable any assemblage of voters, amounting to a certain number, to place in the legislature a representative of its own choice, minorities cannot be suppressed. Independent opinions will force their way into the council of the nation and make themselves heard there, a thing which often cannot happen in the existing forms of representative democracy; and the legislature, instead of being weeded of individual peculiarities260 and entirely made up of men who simply represent the creed of great political or religious parties, will comprise a large proportion of the most eminent individual minds in the country, placed there, without reference to party, by voters who appreciate their individual eminence261. I can understand that persons, otherwise intelligent, should, for want of sufficient examination, be repelled from Mr Hare's plan by what they think the complex nature of its machinery262. But any one who does not feel the want which the scheme is intended to supply; any one who throws it over as a mere theoretical subtlety263 or crotchet, tending to no valuable purpose, and unworthy of the attention of practical men, may be pronounced an incompetent264 statesman, unequal to the politics of the future. I mean, unless he is a minister or aspires265 to become one: for we are quite accustomed to a minister continuing to profess266 unqualified hostility to an improvement almost to the very day when his conscience or his interest induces him to take it up as a public measure, and carry it.
Had I met with Mr Hare's system before the publication of my pamphlet, I should have given an account of it there. Not having done so, I wrote an article in Fraser's Magazine (reprinted in my miscellaneous writings) principally for that purpose, though I included in it, along with Mr Hare's book, a review of two other productions on the question of the day; one of them a pamphlet by my early friend, Mr John Austin, who had in his old age become an enemy to all further Parliamentary reform; the other an able and ingenious, though Partially erroneous, work by Mr Lorimer.
In the course of the same summer I fulfilled a duty particularly incumbent267 upon me, that of helping268 (by an article in the Edinburgh Review) to make known Mr Bain's profound treatise on the Mind, just then completed by the publication of its second volume. And I carried through the press a selection of my minor247 writings, forming the first two volumes of "Dissertations269 and Discussions." The selection had been made during my wife's lifetime, but the revision, in concert with her, with a view to republication, had been barely commenced; and when I had no longer the guidance of her judgment I despaired of pursuing it further, and republished the papers as they were, with the exception of striking out such passages as were no longer in accordance with my opinions. My literary work of the year was terminated with an essay in Fraser's magazine (afterwards republished in the third volume of "Dissertations and Discussions,") entitled "A Few Words on Non-Intervention." I was prompted to write this paper by a desire, while vindicating270 England from the imputations commonly brought against her on the Continent, of a peculiar selfishness in matters of foreign policy to warn Englishmen of the colour given to this imputation143 by the low tone in which English statesmen are accustomed to speak of English policy as concerned only with English interests, and by the conduct of Lord Palmerston at that particular time in opposing the Suez Canal: and I took the opportunity of expressing ideas which had long been in my mind (some of them generated by my Indian experience, and others by the international questions which then greatly occupied the European public), respecting the true principles of international morality, and the legitimate271 modifications made in it by difference of times and circumstances; a subject I had already, to some extent, discussed in the vindication272 of the French Provisional Government of 1848 against the attacks of Lord Brougham and others, which I published at the time in the Westminster Review, and which is reprinted in the "Dissertations."
I had now settled, as I believed, for the remainder of my existence into a purely literary life; if that can be called literary which continued to be occupied in a pre-eminent degree with politics, and not merely with theoretical, but practical politics, although a great part of the year was spent at a distance of many hundred miles from the chief seat of the politics of my own country, to which, and primarily for which, I wrote. But, in truth, the modern facilities of communication have not only removed all the disadvantages, to a political writer in tolerably easy circumstances, of distance from the scene of political action, but have converted them into advantages. The immediate and regular receipt of newspapers and periodicals keeps him au cOurant of even the most temporary politics, and gives him a much more correct view of the state and progress of opinion than he could acquire by personal contact with individuals : for every one's social intercourse273 is more or less limited to particular sets or classes, whose impressions and no others reach him through that channel; and experience has taught me that those who give their time to the absorbing claims of what is called society, not having leisure to keep up a large acquaintance with the organs of opinion, remain much more ignorant of the general state either of the public mind, or of the active and instructed part of it, than a recluse274 who reads the newspapers need be. There are, no doubt, disadvantages in too long a separation from one's country — in not occasionally renewing one's impressions of the light in which men and things appear when seen from a position in the midst of them; but the deliberate judgment formed at a distance, and undisturbed by inequalities of perspective, is the most to be depended on, even for application to practice. Alternating between the two positions, I combined the advantages of both. And, though the inspirer of my best thoughts was no longer with me, I was not alone: she had left a daughter, my stepdaughter, Miss Helen Taylor, the inheritor of much of her wisdom, and of all her nobleness of character, whose ever growing and ripening275 talents from that day to this have been devoted to the same great purposes, and have already made her name better and more widely known than was that of her mother, though far less so than I predict, that if she lives it is destined276 to become. Of the value of her direct cooperation with me, something will be said hereafter, of what I owe in the way of instruction to her great powers of original thought and soundness of practical judgment, it would be a vain attempt to give an adequate idea. Surely no one ever before was so fortunate, as, after such a loss as mine, to draw another prize in the lottery277 of life — another companion, stimulator278, adviser279, and instructor280 of the rarest quality. Whoever, either now or hereafter, may think of me and of the work I have done, must never forget that it is the product not of one intellect and conscience, but of three, the least considerable of whom, and above all the least original, is the one whose name is attached to it.
The work of the years 1860 and 1861 consisted chiefly of two treatises281, only one of which was intended for immediate publication. This was the "Considerations on Representative Government"; a connected exposition of what, by the thoughts of many years, I had come to regard as the best form of a popular constitution. Along with as much of the general theory of government as is necessary to support this particular portion of its practice, the volume contains many matured views of the principal questions which occupy the present age, within the province of purely organic institutions, and raises, by anticipation214, some other questions to which growing necessities will sooner or later compel the attention both of theoretical and of practical politicians. The chief of these last, is the distinction between the function of making laws, for which a numerous popular assembly is radically282 unfit, and that of getting good laws made, which is its proper duty and cannot be satisfactorily fulfilled by any other authority: and the consequent need of a Legislative283 Commission, as a permanent part of the constitution of a free country; consisting of a small number of highly trained political minds, on whom, when Parliament has determined that a law shall be made, the task of making it should be devolved: Parliament retaining the power of passing or rejecting the bill when drawn284 up, but not of altering it otherwise than by sending proposed amendments285 to be dealt with by the Commission. The question here raised respecting the most important of all public functions, that of legislation, is a particular case of the great problem of modern political organization, stated, I believe, for the first time in its full extent by Bentham, though in my opinion not always satisfactorily resolved by him; the combination of complete popular control over public affairs, with the greatest attainable287 perfection of skilled agency.
The other treatise written at this time is the one which was published some years later under the title of "The Subjection of Women." It was written at my daughter's suggestion that there might, in any event, be in existence a written exposition of my opinions on that great question, as full and conclusive as I could make it. The intention was to keep this among other unpublished papers, improving it from time to time if I was able, and to publish it at the time when it should seem likely to be most useful. As ultimately published it was enriched with some important ideas of my daughter's, and passages of her writing. But in what was of my own composition, all that is most striking and profound belongs to my wife ; coming from the fund of thought which had been made common to us both, by our innumerable conversations and discussions on a topic which filled so large a place in our minds.
Soon after this time I took from their repository a portion of the unpublished papers which I had written during the last years of our married life, and shaped them, with some additional matter, into the little work entitled "Utilitarianism"; which was first published, in three parts, in successive numbers of Fraser's Magazine, and afterwards reprinted in a volume.
Before this, however, the state of public affairs had become extremely critical, by the commencement of the American civil war. My strongest feelings were engaged in this struggle, which, I felt from the beginning, was destined to be a turning point, for good or evil, of the course of human affairs for an indefinite duration. Having been a deeply interested observer of the Slavery quarrel in America, during the many years that preceded the open breach288, I knew that it was in all its stages an aggressive enterprise of the slave-owners to extend the territory of slavery; under the combined influences of pecuniary289 interest, domineering temper, and the fanaticism290 of a class for its class privileges, influences so fully and powerfully depicted291 in the admirable work of my friend Professor Cairnes, "The Slave Power." Their success, if they succeeded, would be a victory of the powers of evil which would give courage to the enemies of progress and damp the spirits of its friends all over the civilized world, while it would create a formidable military power, grounded on the worst and most anti-social form of the tyranny of men over men, and, by destroying for a long time the prestige of the great democratic republic, would give to all the privileged classes of Europe a false confidence, probably only to be extinguished in blood. On the other hand, if the spirit of the North was sufficiently292 roused to carry the war to a successful termination, and if that termination did not come too soon and too easily, I foresaw, from the laws of human nature, and the experience of revolutions, that when it did come it would in all probability be thorough: that the bulk of the Northern population, whose conscience had as yet been awakened only to the point of resisting the further extension of slavery, but whose fidelity293 to the Constitution of the United States made them disapprove294 of any attempt by the Federal Government to interfere138 with slavery in the States where it already existed, would acquire feelings of another kind when the Constitution had been shaken off by armed rebellion, would determine to have done for ever with the accursed thing, and would join their banner with that of the noble body of Abolitionists, of whom Garrison296 was the courageous and single-minded apostle, Wendell Phillips the eloquent297 orator298, and John Brown the voluntary martyr299.8 Then, too, the whole mind of the United States would be let loose from its bonds, no longer corrupted300 by the supposed necessity of apologizing to foreigners for the most flagrant of all possible violations301 of the free principles of their Constitution; while the tendency of a fixed302 state of society to stereotype303 a set of national opinions would be at least temporarily checked, and the national mind would become more open to the recognition of whatever was bad in either the institutions or the customs of the people. These hopes, so far as related to Slavery, have been completely, and in other respects are in course of being progressively realized. Foreseeing from the first this double set of consequences from the success or failure of the rebellion, it may be imagined with what feelings I contemplated304 the rush of nearly the whole upper and middle classes of my own country even those who passed for Liberals, into a furious pro-Southern partisanship305 : the working classes, and some of the literary and scientific men, being almost the sole exceptions to the general frenzy306. I never before felt so keenly how little permanent improvement had reached the minds of our influential307 classes, and of what small value were the liberal opinions they had got into the habit of professing308. None of the Continental309 Liberals committed the same frightful310 mistake. But the generation which had extorted311 negro emancipation from our West India planters had passed away; another had succeeded which had not learnt by many years of discussion and exposure to feel strongly the enormities of slavery; and the inattention habitual with Englishmen to whatever is going on in the world outside their own island, made them profoundly ignorant of all the antecedents of the struggle, insomuch that it was not generally believed in England, for the first year or two of the war, that the quarrel was one of slavery. There were men of high principle and unquestionable liberality of opinion, who thought it a dispute about tariffs313, or assimilated it to the cases in which they were accustomed to sympathize, of a people struggling for independence.
It was my obvious duty to be one of the small minority who protested against this perverted314 state of public opinion. I was not the first to protest. It ought to be remembered to the honour of Mr Hughes and of Mr Ludlow, that they, by writings published at the very beginning of the struggle, began the protestation. Mr Bright followed in one of the most powerful of his speeches, followed by others not less striking. I was on the point of adding my words to theirs, when there occurred, towards the end of 1861, the seizure315 of the Southern envoys316 on board a British vessel317, by an officer of the United States. Even English forgetfulness has not yet had time to lose all remembrance of the explosion of Feeling in England which then burst forth, the expectation, prevailing318 for some weeks, of war with the United States, and the warlike preparations actually commenced on this side. While this state of things lasted, there was no chance of a hearing for anything favourable to the American cause; and, moreover, I agreed with those who thought the act unjustifiable, and such as to require that England should demand its disavowal. When the disavowal came, and the alarm of war was over, I wrote, in January, 1862, the paper, in Fraser's Magazine, entitled "The Contest in America," And I shall always feel grateful to my daughter that her urgency prevailed on me to write it when I did, for we were then on the point of setting out for a journey of some months in Greece and Turkey, and but for her, I should have deferred321 writing till our return. Written and published when it was, this paper helped to encourage those Liberals who had felt overborne by the tide of illiberal322 opinion, and to form in favour of the good cause a nucleus323 of opinion which increased gradually, and, after the success of the North began to seem probable, rapidly. When we returned from our journey I wrote a second article, a review of Professor Cairnes' book, published in the Westminster Review. England is paying the penalty, in many uncomfortable ways, of the durable324 resentment325 which her ruling classes stirred up in the United States by their ostentatious wishes for the ruin of America as a nation: they have reason to be thankful that a few, if only a few, known writers and speakers, standing41 firmly by the Americans in the time of their greatest difficulty, effected a partial diversion of these bitter feelings, and made Great Britain not altogether odious326 to the Americans.
This duty having been performed, my principal occupation for the next two years was on subjects not political. The publication of Mr Austin's Lectures on Jurisprudence after his decease, gave me an opportunity of paying a deserved tribute to his memory, and at the same time expressing some thoughts on a subject on which, in my old days of Benthamism, I had bestowed327 much study. But the chief product of those years was the Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy. His Lectures, published in 1860 and 1861, I had read towards the end of the latter year, with a half-formed intention of giving an account of them in a Review, but I soon found that this would be idle, and that justice could not be done to the subject in less than a volume. I had then to consider whether it would be advisable that I myself should attempt such a performance. On consideration, there seemed to be strong reasons for doing so. I was greatly disappointed with the Lectures. I read them, certainly, with no prejudice against Sir W. Hamilton. I had up to that time deferred the study of his Notes to Reid on account of their unfinished state, but I had not neglected his "Discussions in Philosophy;" and though I knew that his general mode of treating the facts of mental philosophy differed from that of which I most approved, yet his vigorous polemic24 against the later Transcendentalists, and his strenuous assertion of some important principles, especially the Relativity of human knowledge, gave me many points of sympathy with his opinions, and made me think that genuine psychology328 had considerably329 more to gain than to lose by his authority and reputation. His Lectures and the Dissertations on Reid dispelled330 this illusion: and even the Discussions, read by the light which these throw on them, lost much of their value. I found that the points of apparent agreement between his opinions and mine were more verbal than real; that the important philosophical principles which I had thought he recognised, were so explained away by him as to mean little or nothing, or were continually lost sight of, and doctrines entirely inconsistent with them were taught in nearly every part of his philosophical writings. My estimation of him was therefore so far altered, that instead of regarding him as occupying a kind of intermediate position between the two rival philosophies, holding some of the principles of both, and supplying to both powerful weapons of attack and defence, I now looked upon him as one of the pillars, and in this country from his high philosophical reputation the chief pillar, of that one of the two which seemed to me to be erroneous.
Now, the difference between these two schools of philosophy, that of intuition, and that of Experience and Association, is not a mere matter of abstract speculation; it is full of practical consequences, and lies at the foundation of all the greatest differences of practical opinion in an age of progress. The practical reformer has continually to demand that changes be made in things which are supported by powerful and widely-spread feelings, or to question the apparent necessity and indefeasibleness of established facts; and it is often an indispensable part of his argument to show, how those powerful feelings had their origin, and how those facts came to seem necessary and indefeasible. There is therefore a natural hostility between him and a philosophy which discourages the explanation of feelings and moral facts by circumstances and association, and prefers to treat them as ultimate elements of human nature; a philosophy which is addicted to holding up favourite doctrines as intuitive truths, and deems intuition to be the voice of Nature and of God, speaking with an authority higher than that of our reason. In particular, I have long felt that the prevailing tendency to regard all the marked distinctions of human character as innate, and in the main indelible, and to ignore the irresistible proofs that by far the greater part of those differences, whether between individuals, races, or sexes, are such as not only might but naturally would be produced by differences in circumstances, is one of the chief hindrances331 to the rational treatment of great social questions, and one of the greatest stumbling blocks to human improvement. This tendency has its source in the intuitional metaphysics which characterized the reaction of the nineteenth century against the eighteenth, and it is a tendency so agreeable to human indolence, as well as to conservative interests generally, that unless attacked at the very root, it is sure to be carried to even a greater length than is really justified332 by the more moderate forms of the intuitional philosophy. That philosophy not always in its moderate forms, had ruled the thought of Europe for the greater part of a century. My father's Analysis of the Mind, my own Logic, and Professor Bain's great treatise, had attempted to re-introduce a better mode of philosophizing, latterly with quite as much success as could be expected; but I had for some time felt that the mere contrast of the two philosophies was not enough, that there ought to be a hand-to-hand fight between them, that controversial as well as expository writings were needed, and that the time was come when such controversy would be useful. Considering then the writings and fame of Sir W. Hamilton as the great fortress333 of the intuitional philosophy in this country, a fortress the more formidable from the imposing334 character, and the in many respects great personal merits and mental endowments, of the man, I thought it might be a real service to philosophy to attempt a thorough examination of all his most important doctrines, and an estimate of his general claims to eminence as a philosopher, and I was confirmed in this resolution by observing that in the writings of at least one, and him one of the ablest, of Sir W. Hamilton's followers, his peculiar doctrines were made the justification of a view of religion which I hold to be profoundly immoral-that it is our duty to bow down in worship before a Being whose moral attributes are affirmed to be unknowable by us, and to be perhaps extremely different from those which, when we are speaking of our fellow creatures, we call by the same names.
As I advanced in my task, the damage to Sir W. Hamilton's reputation became greater than I at first expected, through the almost incredible multitude of inconsistencies which showed themselves on comparing different passages with one another. It was my business, however, to show things exactly as they were, and I did not flinch335 from it. I endeavoured always to treat the philosopher whom I criticized with the most scrupulous336 fairness; and I knew that he had abundance of disciples337 and admirers to correct me if I ever unintentionally did him injustice. Many of them accordingly have answered me, more or less elaborately. and they have pointed out oversights338 and misunderstandings, though few in number, and mostly very unimportant in substance. Such of those as had (to my knowledge) been pointed out before the publication of the latest edition (at present the third) have been corrected there, and the remainder of the criticisms have been, as far as seemed necessary, replied to. On the whole, the book has done its work: it has shown the weak side of Sir W. Hamilton, and has reduced his too great philosophical reputation within more moderate bounds; and by some of its discussions, as well as by two expository chapters, on the notions of Matter and of Mind, it has perhaps thrown additional light on some of the disputed questions in the domain of psychology and metaphysics.
After the completion of the book on Hamilton, I applied myself to a task which a variety of reasons seemed to render specially incumbent upon me; that of giving an account, and forming an estimate, of the doctrines of Auguste Comte. I had contributed more than any one else to make his speculations known in England. In consequence chiefly of what I had said of him in my Logic, he had readers and admirers among thoughtful men on this side of the Channel at a time when his name had not yet in France emerged from obscurity. So unknown and unappreciated was he at the time when my Logic was written and published, that to criticize his weak points might well appear superfluous339, while it was a duty to give as much publicity340 as one could to the important contributions he had made to philosophic thought. At the time, however, at which I have now arrived, this state of affairs had entirely changed. His name, at least, was known almost universally, and the general character of his doctrines very widely. He had taken his place in the estimation both of friends and opponents, as one of the conspicuous figures in the thought of the age. The better parts of his speculations had made great progress in working their way into those minds, which, by their previous culture and tendencies, were fitted to receive them: under cover of those better parts those of a worse character, greatly developed and added to in his later writings, bad also made some way, having obtained active and enthusiastic adherents341, some of them of no inconsiderable personal merit, in England, France, and other countries. These causes not only made it desirable that some one should undertake the task of sifting342 what is good from what is bad in M. Comte's speculations, but seemed to impose on myself in particular a special obligation to make the attempt. This I accordingly did in two Essays, published in successive numbers of the Westminster Review, and reprinted in a small volume under the title "Auguste Comte and Positivism."
The writings which I have now mentioned, together with a small number of papers in periodicals which I have not deemed worth preserving, were the whole of the products of my activity as a writer during the years from 1859 to 1865. In the early part of the last-mentioned year, in compliance with a wish frequently expressed to me by working men, I published cheap People's Editions of those of my writings which seemed the most likely to find readers among the working classes; viz, Principles of Political Economy, Liberty, and Representative Government. This was a considerable sacrifice of my pecuniary interest, especially as I resigned all idea of deriving343 profit from the cheap editions, and after ascertaining344 from my publishers the lowest price which they thought would remunerate them on the usual terms of an equal division of profits, I gave up my half share to enable the price to be fixed still lower. To the credit of Messrs. Longman they fixed, unasked, a certain number of years after which the copyright and stereotype plates were to revert345 to me, and a certain number of copies after the sale of which I should receive half of any further profit. This number of copies (which in the case of the Political Economy was 10,000) has for some time been exceeded, and the People's Editions have begun to yield me a small but unexpected pecuniary return, though very far from an equivalent for the diminution346 of profit from the Library Editions.
In this summary of my outward life I have now arrived at the period at which my tranquil347 and retired348 existence as a writer of books was to be exchanged for the less congenial occupation of a member of the House of Commons. The proposal made to me, early in 1865, by some electors of Westminster, did not present the idea to me for the first time. It was not even the first offer I had received, for, more than ten years previous, in consequence of my opinions on the irish Land question, Mr Lucas and Mr Duffy, in the name of the popular party in Ireland, offered to bring me into Parliament for an Irish County, which they could easily have done: but the incompatibility349 of a seat in Parliament with the office I then held in the India House, precluded350 even consideration of the proposal. After I had quitted the India House, several of my friends would gladly have seen me a member of Parliament; but there seemed no probability that the idea would ever take any practical shape. I was convinced that no numerous or influential portion of any electoral body, really wished to be represented by a person of my opinions; and that one who possessed no local connexion or popularity, and who did not choose to stand as the mere organ of a party had small chance of being elected anywhere unless through the expenditure352 of money. Now it was, and is, my fixed conviction, that a candidate ought not to incur353 one farthing of expense for undertaking354 a public duty. Such of the lawful355 expenses of an election as have no special reference to any particular candidate, ought to be borne as a public charge, either by the State or by the locality. What has to be done by the supporters of each candidate in order to bring his claims properly before the constituency, should be done by unpaid356 agency or by voluntary subscription357. If members of the electoral body, or others, are willing to subscribe358 money of their own for the purpose of bringing, by lawful means, into Parliament some one who they think would be useful there, no one is entitled to object: but that the expense, or any part of it, should fall on the candidate, is fundamentally wrong; because it amounts in reality to buying his seat. Even on the most favourable supposition as to the mode in which the money is expended359, there is a legitimate suspicion that any one who gives money for leave to undertake a public trust, has other than public ends to promote by it; and (a consideration of the greatest importance) the cost of elections, when borne by the candidates, deprives the nation of the services, as members of Parliament, of all who cannot or will not afford to incur a heavy expense. I do not say that, so long as there is scarcely a chance for an independent candidate to come into Parliament without complying with this vicious practice, it must always be morally wrong in him to spend money, provided that no part of it is either directly or indirectly360 employed in corruption361. But, to justify50 it, he ought to be very certain that he can be of more use to his country as a member of Parliament than in any other mode which is open to him; and this assurance, in my own case, I did not feel. It was by no means clear to me that I could do more to advance the public objects which had a claim on my exertions, from the benches of the House of Commons, than from the simple position of a writer. I felt, therefore, that I ought not to seek election to Parliament, much less to expend351 any money in procuring it.
But the conditions of the question were considerably altered when a body of electors sought me out, and spontaneously offered to bring me forward as their candidate. If it should appear, on explanation, that they persisted in this wish, knowing my opinions, and accepting the only conditions on which I could conscientiously362 serve, it was questionable312 whether this was not one of those calls upon a member of the community by his fellow-citizens, which he was scarcely justified in rejecting. I therefore put their disposition363 to the proof by one of the frankest explanations ever tendered, I should think, to an electoral body by a candidate. I wrote, in reply to the offer, a letter for publication, saying that I had no personal wish to be a member of parliament, that I thought a candidate ought neither to canvass364 nor to incur any expense, and that I could not consent to do either. I said further, that if elected, I could not undertake to give any of my time and labour to their local interests. With respect to general politics, I told them without reserve, what I thought on a number of important subjects on which they had asked my opinion; and one of these being the suffrage365, I made known to them, among other things, my conviction (as I was bound to do, since I intended, if elected, to act on it), that women were entitled to representation in Parliament on the same terms with men. It was the first time, doubtless, that such a doctrine had ever been mentioned to English electors; and the fact that I was elected after proposing it, gave the start to the movement which has since become so vigorous, in favour of women's suffrage. Nothing, at the time, appeared more unlikely than that a candidate (if candidate I could be called) whose professions and conduct set so completely at defiance366 all ordinary notions of electioneering, should nevertheless be elected. A well-known literary man, who was also a man of society, was heard to say that the Almighty367 himself would have no chance of being elected on such a programme, I strictly368 adhered to it, neither spending money nor canvassing369, nor did I take any personal part in the election, until about a week preceding the day of nomination370, when I attended a few public meetings to state my principles and give to any questions which the electors might exercise their just right of putting to me for their own guidance, answers as plain and unreserved as my Address. On one subject only, my religious opinions, I announced from the beginning that I would answer no questions; a determination which appeared to be completely approved by those who attended the meetings. My frankness on all other subjects on which I was interrogated371, evidently did me far more good than my answers, whatever they might be, did harm. Among the proofs I received of this, one is too remarkable not to be recorded. In the pamphlet, "Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform," I had said, rather bluntly, that the working classes, though differing from those of some other countries, in being ashamed of lying, are yet generally liars372. This passage some opponent got printed in a placard, which was handed to me at a meeting, chiefly composed of the working classes, and I was asked whether I had written and published it. I at once answered "I did." Scarcely were these two words out of my mouth, when vehement373 applause resounded374 through the whole meeting. It was evident that the working people were so accustomed to expect equivocation375 and evasion376 from those who sought their suffrages377, that when they found, instead of that, a direct avowal320 of what was likely to be disagreeable to them, instead of being offended, they concluded at once that this was a person whom they could trust. A more striking instance never came under my notice of what. I believe, is the experience of those who best know the working classes, that the most essential of all recommendations to their favour is that of complete straightforwardness378; its presence outweighs379 in their minds very strong objections, while no amount of other qualities will make amends380 for its apparent absence. The first working man who spoke77 after the incident I have mentioned (it was Mr Odger) said, that the working classes had no desire not to be told of their faults; they wanted friends, not flatterers, and felt under obligation to any one who told them anything in themselves which he sincerely believed to require amendment286. And to this the meeting heartily381 responded.
Had I been defeated in the election, I should still have had no reason to regret the contact it had brought me into with large bodies of my countrymen; which not only gave me much new experience, but enabled me to scatter382 my political opinions rather widely, and, by making me known in many quarters where I had never before been heard of, increased the number of my readers, and the presumable influence of my writings. These latter effects were of course produced in a still greater degree, when, as much to my surprise as to that of any one, I was returned to Parliament by a majority of some hundreds over my Conservative competitor.
I was a member of the House during the three sessions of the Parliament which passed the Reform Bill; during which time Parliament was necessarily my main occupation, except during the recess383. I was a tolerably frequent speaker, sometimes of prepared speeches, sometimes extemporaneously384. But my choice of occasions was not such as I should have made if my leading object had been parliamentary influence. When I had gained the ear of the House, which I did by a successful speech on Mr Gladstone's Reform Bill, the idea I proceeded on was that when anything was likely to be as well done, or sufficiently well done, by other people, there was no necessity for me to meddle385 with it. As I, therefore, in general reserved myself for work which no others were likely to do, a great proportion of my appearances were on points on which the bulk of the Liberal party, even the advanced portion of it, either were of a different opinion from mine, or were comparatively indifferent. Several of my speeches, especially one against the motion for the abolition295 of capital punishment, and another in favour of resuming the right of seizing enemies' goods in neutral vessels386, were opposed to what then was, and probably still is, regarded as the advanced liberal opinion. My advocacy of women's suffrage and of Personal Representation, were at the time looked upon by many as whims387 of my own; but the great progress since made by those opinions, and especially the zealous388 response made from almost all parts of the kingdom to the demand for women's suffrage, fully justified the timeliness of those movements, and have made what was undertaken as a moral and social duty, a personal success. Another duty which was particularly incumbent on me as one of the Metropolitan389 Members, was the attempt to obtain a Municipal Government for the Metropolis390: but on that subject the indifference391 of the House of Commons was such that I found hardly any help or support within its walls. On this subject, however, I was the organ of an active and intelligent body of persons outside, with whom, and not with me, the scheme originated, and who carried on all the agitation392 on the subject and drew up the Bills. My part was to bring in Bills already prepared, and to sustain the discussion of them during the short time they were allowed to remain before the House; after having taken an active part in the work of a Committee presided over by Mr Ayrton, which sat through the greater part of the Session of 1866, to take evidence on the subject. The very different position in which the question now stands (1870) may justly be attributed to the preparation which went on during those years, and which produced but little visible effect at the time; but all questions on which there are strong private interests on one side, and only the public good on the other, have a similar period of incubation to go through.
The same idea, that the use of my being in Parliament was to do work which others were not able or not willing to do, made me think it my duty to come to the front in defence of advanced Liberalism on occasions when the obloquy393 to be encountered was such as most of the advanced Liberals in the House, preferred not to incur. My first vote in the House was in support of an amendment in favour of Ireland, moved by an Irish member, and for which only five English and Scotch394 votes were given, including my own: the other four were Mr Bright, Mr McLaren, Mr T.B. Potter, and Mr Hadfield. And the second speech I delivered9 was on the bill to prolong the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in Ireland. In denouncing, on this occasion, the English mode of governing Ireland, I did no more than the general opinion of England now admits to have been just; but the anger against Fenianism was then in all its freshness; any attack on what Fenians attacked was looked upon as an apology for them; and I was so unfavourably received by the House, that more than one of my friends advised me (and my own judgment agreed with the advice) to wait, before speaking again, for the favourable opportunity that would be given by the first great debate on the Reform Bill. During this silence, many flattered themselves that I had turned out a failure, and that they should not be troubled with me any more. Perhaps their uncomplimentary comments may, by the force of reaction, have helped to make my speech on the Reform Bill the success it was. My position in the House was further improved by a speech in which I insisted on the duty of paying off the National Debt before our coal supplies are exhausted395, and by an ironical396 reply to some of the Tory leaders who had quoted against me certain passages of my writings, and called me to account for others, especially for one in my "Considerations on Representative Government," which said that the Conservative party was, by the law of its composition, the stupidest party. They gained nothing by drawing attention to the passage, which up to that time had not excited any notice, but the sobriquet397 of "the stupid party" stuck to them for a considerable time afterwards. Having now no longer any apprehension398 of not being listened to, I confined myself, as I have since thought too much, to occasions on which my services seemed specially needed, and abstained399 more than enough from speaking on the great party questions. With the exception of Irish questions, and those which concerned the working classes, a single speech on Mr Disraeli's Reform Bill was nearly all that I contributed to the great decisive debates of the last two of my three sessions.
I have, however, much satisfaction in looking back to the part I took on the two classes of subjects just mentioned. With regard to the working classes, the chief topic of my speech on Mr Gladstone's Reform Bill was the assertion of their claims to the suffrage. A little later, after the resignation of Lord Russell's ministry400 and the succession of a Tory Government, came the attempt of the working classes to hold a meeting in Hyde Park, their exclusion401 by the police, and the breaking down of the park railing by the crowd. Though Mr Beales and the leaders of the working men had retired under protest before this took place, a scuffle ensued in which many innocent persons were maltreated by the police, and the exasperation402 of the working men was extreme. They showed a determination to make another attempt at a meeting in the Park, to which many of them would probably have come armed; the Government made military preparations to resist the attempt, and something very serious seemed impending403. At this crisis I really believe that I was the means of preventing much mischief. I had in my place in Parliament taken the side of the working men, and strongly censured404 the conduct of the Government. I was invited, with several other Radical members, to a conference with the leading members of the Council of the Reform League; and the task fell chiefly upon myself, of persuading them to give up the Hyde Park project, and hold their meeting elsewhere. It was not Mr Beales and Colonel Dickson who needed persuading; on the contrary, it was evident that these gentlemen had already exerted their influence in the same direction, thus far without success. It was the working men who held out, and so bent84 were they on their original scheme, that I was obliged to have recourse to les grands moyens. I told them that a proceeding which would certainly produce a collision with the military, could only be justifiable319 on two conditions: if the position of affairs had become such that a revolution was desirable, and if they thought themselves able to accomplish one. To this argument, after considerable discussion, they at last yielded: and I was able to inform Mr Walpole that their intention was given up. I shall never forget the depth of his relief or the warmth of his expressions of gratitude405. After the working men had conceded so much to me, I felt bound to comply with their request that I would attend and speak at their meeting at the Agricultural Hall; the only meeting called by the Reform League which I ever attended. I had always declined being a member of the League, on the avowed406 ground that I did not agree in its programme of manhood suffrage and the ballot: from the ballot I dissented407 entirely; and I could not consent to hoist408 the flag of manhood suffrage, even on the assurance that the exclusion of women was not intended to be implied; since if one goes beyond what can be immediately carried, and professes409 to take one's stand on a principle, one should go the whole length of the principle. I have entered thus particularly into this matter because my conduct on this occasion gave great displeasure to the Tory and Tory Liberal press, who have charged me ever since with having shown myself, in the trials of public life, intemperate410 and passionate411. I do not know what they expected from me; but they had reason to be thankful to me if they knew from what I had, in all probability preserved them. And I do not believe it could have been done, at that particular juncture412, by any one else. No other person, I believe, had at that moment the necessary influence for restraining the working classes, except Mr Gladstone and Mr Bright, neither of whom was available: Mr Gladstone, for obvious reasons; Mr Bright because he was out of town.
When, some time later, the Tory Government brought in a bill to prevent public meetings in the Parks, I not only spoke strongly in opposition to it, but formed one of a number of advanced Liberals, who, aided by the very late period of the Session, succeeded in defeating the Bill by what is called talking it out. It has not since been renewed.
On Irish affairs also I felt bound to take a decided86 part. I was one of the foremost in the deputation of Members of Parliament who prevailed on Lord Derby to spare the life of the condemned413 Fenian insurgent414, General Burke. The Church question was so vigorously handled by the leaders of the party, in the session of 1868, as to require no more from me than an emphatic218 adhesion: but the land question was by no means in so advanced a position; the superstitions415 of landlordism had up to that time been little challenged, especially in Parliament, and the backward state of the question, so far as concerned the Parliamentary mind, was evidenced by the extremely mild measure brought in by Lord Russell's government in 1866, which nevertheless could not be carried. On that bill I delivered one of my most careful speeches, in which I attempted to lay down Some of the principles of the subject, in a manner calculated less to stimulate416 friends, than to conciliate and convince opponents. The engrossing417 subject of Parliamentary Reform prevented either this bill, or one of a similar character brought in by Lord Derby's Government, from being carried through. They never got beyond the second reading. Meanwhile the signs of Irish disaffection had become much more decided; the demand for complete separation between the two countries had assumed a menacing aspect, and there were few who did not feel that if there was still any chance of reconciling Ireland to the British connexion, it could only be by the adoption418 of much more thorough reforms in the territorial419 and social relations of the country, than had yet been contemplated. The time seemed to me to have come when it would be useful to speak out my whole mind; and the result was my pamphlet "England and Ireland," which was written in the winter of 1867, and published shortly before the commencement of the session of 1868. The leading features of the pamphlet were, on the one hand, an argument to show the undesirableness420, for Ireland as well as England, of separation between the countries, and on the other, a proposal for settling the land question by giving to the existing tenants421 a permanent tenure422, at a fixed rent, to be assessed after due inquiry423 by the State.
The pamphlet was not popular, except in Ireland, as I did not expect it to be. But, if no measure short of that which I proposed would do full justice to Ireland, or afford a prospect of conciliating the mass of the Irish people, the duty of proposing it was imperative424; while if, on the other hand, there was any intermediate course which had a claim to a trial, I well knew that to propose something which would be called extreme, was the true way not to impede425 but to facilitate a more moderate experiment. It is most improbable that a measure conceding so much to the tenantry as Mr Gladstone's Irish Land Bill, would have been proposed by a Government, or could have been carried through Parliament, unless the British public had been led to perceive that a case might be made, and perhaps a party formed, for a measure considerably stronger. It is the character of the British people, or at least of the higher and middle classes who pass muster426 for the British people, that to induce them to approve of any change, it is necessary that they should look upon it as a middle course: they think every proposal extreme and violent unless they hear of some other proposal going still farther, upon which their antipathy427 to extreme views may discharge itself. So it proved in the present instance; my proposal was condemned, but any scheme of Irish Land reform, short of mine, came to be thought moderate by comparison. I may observe that the attacks made on my plan usually gave a very incorrect idea of its nature. It was usually discussed as a proposal that the State should buy up the land and become the universal landlord; though in fact it only offered to each individual landlord this as an alternative, if he liked better to sell his estate than to retain it on the new conditions; and I fully anticipated that most landlords would continue to prefer the position of landowners to that of Government annuitants, and would retain their existing relation to their tenants, often on more indulgent terms than the full rents on which the compensation to be given them by Government would have been based. This and many other explanations I gave in a speech on Ireland, in the debate on Mr Maguire's Resolution, early in the session of 1868. A corrected report of this speech, together with my speech on Mr Fortescue's Bill, has been published (not by me, but with my permission) in Ireland.
Another public duty, of a most serious kind, it was my lot to have to perform, both in and out of Parliament, during these years. A disturbance428 in Jamaica, provoked in the first instance by injustice, and exaggerated by rage and panic into a premeditated rebellion, had been the motive or excuse for taking hundreds of innocent lives by military violence, or by sentence of what were called courts-martial, continuing for weeks after the brief disturbance had been put down; with many added atrocities429 of destruction of property logging women as well as men, and a general display of the brutal98 recklessness which usually prevails when fire and sword are let loose. The perpetrators of those deeds were defended and applauded in England by the same kind of people who had so long upheld negro slavery: and it seemed at first as if the British nation was about to incur the disgrace of letting pass without even a protest, excesses of authority as revolting as any of those for which, when perpetrated by the instruments of other governments, Englishmen can hardly find terms sufficient to express their abhorrence430. After a short time, however, an indignant feeling was roused: a voluntary Association formed itself under the name of the Jamaica Committee, to take such deliberation and action as the case might admit of, and adhesions poured in from all parts of the country. I was abroad at the time, but I sent in my name to the Committee as soon as I heard of it, and took an active part in the proceedings431 from the time of my return. There was much more at stake than only justice to the Negroes, imperative as was that consideration. The question was, whether the British Dependencies, and eventually, perhaps, Great Britain itself, were to be under the government of law, or of military licence; whether the lives and persons of British subjects are at the mercy of any two or three officers however raw and inexperienced or reckless and brutal, whom a panic-stricken Governor, or other functionary432, may assume the right to constitute into a so-called Court-martial. This question could only be decided by an appeal to the tribunals; and such an appeal the Committee determined to make. Their determination led to a change in the Chairmanship of the Committee, as the Chairman, Mr Charles Buxton, thought it not unjust indeed, but inexpedient, to prosecute433 Governor Eyre and his principal subordinates in a criminal court: but a numerously attended general meeting of the Association having decided this point against him, Mr Buxton withdrew from the Committee, though continuing to work in the cause, and I was, quite unexpectedly on my own part, proposed and elected Chairman. It became, in consequence, my duty to represent the Committee in the House, sometimes by putting questions to the Government, sometimes as the recipient434 of questions, more or less provocative435, addressed by individual members to myself; but especially as speaker in the important debate originated in the session of 1866, by Mr Buxton: and the speech I then delivered is that which I should probably select as the best of my speeches in Parliament.10 For more than two years we carried On the combat, trying every avenue legally open to us, to the courts of criminal justice. A bench of magistrates436 in one of the most Tory counties in England dismissed our case: we were more successful before the magistrates at Bow Street; which gave an opportunity to the Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench, Sir Alexander Cockburn, for delivering his celebrated charge, which settled the law of the question in favour of liberty, as far as it is in the power of a judge's charge to settle it. There, however, our success ended, for the Old Bailey Grand jury by throwing out our bill prevented the case from coming to trial. It was clear that to bring English functionaries437 to the bar of a criminal court for abuses of power committed against negroes and mulattoes was not a popular proceeding with the English middle classes. We had, however, redeemed438, so far as lay in us, the character of our country, by showing that there was at any rate a body of persons determined to use all the means which the law afforded to obtain justice for the injured. We had elicited439 from the highest criminal judge in the nation an authoritative440 declaration that the law was what we maintained it to be; and we had given an emphatic warning to those who might be tempted243 to similar guilt441 hereafter, that, though they might escape the actual sentence of a criminal tribunal, they were not safe against being put to some trouble and expense in order to avoid it. Colonial governors and other persons in authority, will have a considerable motive to stop short of such extremities442 in future.
As a matter of curiosity I kept some specimens443 of the abusive letters, almost all of them anonymous444, which I received while these proceedings were going on. They are evidence of the sympathy felt with the brutalities in Jamaica by the brutal part of the population at home. They graduated from coarse jokes, verbal and pictorial445, up to threats of11 assassination446.
Among other matters of importance in which I took an active part, but which excited little interest in the public, two deserve particular mention. I joined with several other independent Liberals in defeating an Extradition447 Bill introduced at the very end of the session of 1866, and by which, though surrender avowedly448 for political offences was not authorized449, political refugees, if charged by a foreign government with acts which are necessarily incident to all attempts at insurrection, would have been surrendered to be dealt with by the criminal courts of the government against which they had rebelled : thus making the British Government an accomplice450 in the vengeance451 of foreign despotisms. The defeat of this proposal led to the appointment of a select Committee (in which I was included), to examine and report on the whole subject of Extradition Treaties; and the result was, that in the Extradition Act which passed through Parliament after I had ceased to be a member, opportunity is given to any one whose extradition is demanded, of being heard before an English Court of justice to prove that the offence with which he is charged, is really political. The cause of European freedom has thus been saved from a serious misfortune, and our own country from a great iniquity452. The other subject to be mentioned is the fight kept up by a body of advanced Liberals in the session of 1868, on the Bribery453 Bill of Mr Disraeli's Government, in which I took a very active part. I had taken counsel with several of those who had applied their minds most carefully to the details of the subject — Mr W.D. Christie, Serjeant Pulling, Mr Chadwick — as well as bestowed much thought of my own, for the purpose of framing such amendments and additional clauses as might make the Bill really effective against the numerous modes of corruption, direct and indirect, which might otherwise, as there was much reason to fear, be increased instead of diminished by the Reform Act. We also aimed at engrafting on the Bill, measures for diminishing the mischievous454 burthen of what are called the legitimate expenses of elections. Among our many amendments, was that of Mr Fawcett for making the returning officer's expenses a charge on the rates, instead of on the candidates; another was the prohibition455 of paid canvassers, and the limitation of paid agents to one for each candidate; a third was the extension of the precautions and penalties against bribery to municipal elections, which are well known to be not only a preparatory school for bribery at parliamentary elections, but an habitual cover for it. The Conservative Government, however, when once they had carried the leading provision of their Bill (for which I voted and spoke), the transfer of the jurisdiction456 in elections from the House of Commons to the Judges, made a determined resistance to all other improvements; and after one of our most important proposals, that of Mr Fawcett, had actually obtained a majority they summoned the strength of their party and threw out the clause in a subsequent stage. The Liberal party in the House was greatly dishonoured457 by the conduct of many of its members in giving no help whatever to this attempt to secure the necessary conditions of an honest representation of the people. With their large majority in the House they could have carried all the amendments, or better ones if they had better to propose. But it was late in the Session; members were eager to set about their preparations for the impending General Election: and while some (such as Sir Robert Anstruther) honourably458 remained at their post, though rival candidates were already canvassing their constituency, a much greater number placed their electioneering interests before their public duty. Many Liberals also looked with indifference on legislation against bribery, thinking that it merely diverted public interest from the Ballot, which they consider.ed, very mistakenly as I expect it will turn out, to be a sufficient, and the only, remedy. From these causes our fight, though kept up with great vigour for several nights, was wholly unsuccessful, and the practices which we sought to render more difficult, prevailed more widely than ever in the first General Election held under the new electoral law.
In the general debates on Mr Disraeli's Reform Bill, my participation was limited to the one speech already mentioned; but I made the Bill an occasion for bringing the two great improvements which remain to be made in representative government, formally before the House and the nation. One of them was Personal, or, as it is called with equal propriety459, Proportional Representation. I brought this under the consideration of the House, by an expository and argumentative speech on Mr Hare's plan; and subsequently I was active in support of the very imperfect substitute for that plan, which, in a small number of constituencies, Parliament was induced to adopt. This poor makeshift had scarcely any recommendation, except that it was a partial recognition of the evil which it did so little to remedy. As such, however, it was attacked by the same fallacies, and required to be defended on the same principles, as a really good measure; and its adoption in a few parliamentary elections, as well as the subsequent introduction of what is called the Cumulative Vote in the elections for the London School Board, have had the good effect of converting the equal claim of all electors to a proportional share in the representation, from a subject of merely speculative discussion, into a question of practical politics, much sooner than would otherwise have been the case.
This assertion of my opinions on Personal Representation cannot be credited with any considerable or visible amount of practical result. It was otherwise with the other motion which I made in the form of an amendment to the Reform Bill, and which was by far the most important, perhaps the only really important, public service I performed in the capacity of a Member of Parliament: a motion to strike out the words which were understood to limit the electoral Franchise460 to males, and thereby461 admitting to the suffrage all women who, as householders or otherwise, possessed the qualification required of male electors. For women not to make their claim to the suffrage, at the time when the elective franchise was being largely extended, would have been to abjure462 the claim altogether; and a movement on the subject was begun in 1866, when I presented a petition for the suffrage, signed by a considerable number of distinguished women. But it was as yet uncertain whether the proposal would obtain more than a few stray votes in the House: and when, after a debate in which the speaker's on the contrary side were conspicuous by their feebleness, the votes recorded in favour of the motion amounted to 73 — made up by pairs and tellers463 to above 80 — the surprise was general, and the encouragement great: the greater, too, because one of those who voted for the motion was Mr Bright, a fact which could only be attributed to the impression made on him by the debate, as he had previously made no secret of his nonconcurrence in the proposal. The time appeared to my daughter, Miss Helen Taylor, to have come for forming a Society for the extension of the suffrage to women. The existence of the Society is due to my daughter's initiative; its constitution was planned entirely by her, and she was the soul of the movement during its first years, though delicate health and superabundant occupation made her decline to be a member of the Executive Committee. Many distinguished members of parliament, professors, and others, and some of the most eminent women of whom the country can boast, became members of the Society, a large proportion either directly or indirectly through my daughter's influence, she having written the greater number, and all the best, of the letters by which adhesions was obtained, even when those letters bore my signature. In two remarkable instances, those of Miss Nightingale and Miss Mary Carpenter, the reluctance464 those ladies had at first felt to come forward, (for it was not on their past difference of opinion) was overcome by appeals written by my daughter though signed by me. Associations for the same object were formed in various local centres, Manchester, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Bristol, and Glasgow; and others which have done much valuable work for the cause. All the Societies take the title of branches of the National Society for Women's Suffrage; but each has its own governing body, and acts in complete independence of the others.
I believe I have mentioned all that is worth remembering of my proceedings in the House. But their enumeration465, even if complete, would give but an inadequate466 idea of my occupations during that period, and especially of the time taken up by correspondence. For many years before my election to Parliament, I had been continually receiving letters from strangers, mostly addressed to me as a writer on philosophy, and either propounding467 difficulties or communicating thoughts on subjects connected with logic or political economy. In common, I suppose, with all who are known as political economists, I was a recipient of all the shallow theories and absurd proposals by which people are perpetually endeavouring to show the way to universal wealth and happiness by some artful reorganization of the currency. When there were signs of sufficient intelligence in the writers to make it worth while attempting to put them right, I took the trouble to point out their errors, until the growth of my correspondence made it necessary to dismiss such persons with very brief answers. Many, however, of the communications I received were more worthy of attention than these, and in some, oversights of detail were pointed out in my writings, which I was thus enabled to correct. Correspondence of this sort naturally multiplied with the multiplication468 of the subjects on which I wrote, especially those of a metaphysical character. But when I became a member of parliament. I began to receive letters on private grievances469 and on every imaginable subject that related to any kind of public affairs, however remote from my knowledge or pursuits. It was not my constituents470 in Westminster who laid this burthen on me: they kept with remarkable fidelity the understanding on which I had consented to serve. I received, indeed, now and then an application from some ingenuous471 youth to procure227 for him a small government appointment; but these were few, and how simple and ignorant the writers were, was shown by the fact that the applications came in about equally whichever party was in power. My invariable answer was, that it was contrary to the principles on which I was elected to ask favours of any Government. But, on the whole, hardly any part of the country gave me less trouble than my own constituents. The general mass of correspondence, however, swelled into an oppressive burthen.
At this time, and thenceforth, a great proportion of all my letters (including many which found their way into the newspapers12 ) were not written by me but by my daughter; at first merely from her willingness to help in disposing of a mass of letters greater than I could get through without assistance, but afterwards because I thought the letters she wrote superior to mine, and more so in proportion to the difficulty and importance of the occasion. Even those which I wrote myself were generally much improved by her, as is also the case with all the more recent of my prepared speeches, of which, and of some of my published writings, not a few passages, and those the most successful, were hers.
While I remained in Parliament my work as an author was unavoidably limited to the recess. During that time I wrote (besides the pamphlet on ireland, already mentioned), the Essay on Plato, published in the Edinburgh Review, and reprinted in the third volume of "Dissertations and Discussions;" and the Address which, conformably to custom, I delivered to the University of St. Andrew's, whose students had done me the honour of electing me to the office of Rector. In this Discourse472 I gave expression to many thoughts and opinions which had been accumulating in me through life, respecting the various studies which belong to a liberal education, their uses and influences, and the mode in which they should be pursued to render their influences most beneficial. The position I took up, vindicating the high educational value alike of the old classic and the new scientific studies, on even stronger grounds than are urged by most of their advocates, and insisting that it is only the stupid inefficiency473 of the usual teaching which makes those studies be regarded as competitors instead of allies, was, I think, calculated, not only to aid and stimulate the improvement which has happily commenced in the national institutions for higher education, but to diffuse474 juster ideas than we often find, even in highly educated men, on the conditions of the highest mental cultivation.
During this period also I commenced (and completed soon after I had left Parliament) the performance of a duty to philosophy and to the memory of my father, by preparing and publishing an edition of the "Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind," with notes bringing up the doctrines of that admirable book to the latest improvements in science and in speculation. This was a joint undertaking: the psychological notes being furnished in about equal proportions by Mr Bain and myself, while Mr Grote supplied some valuable contributions on points in the history of philosophy incidentally raised, and Dr. Andrew Findlater supplied the deficiencies in the book which had been occasioned by the imperfect philological475 knowledge of the time when it was written. Having been originally published at a time when the current of metaphysical speculation ran in a quite opposite direction to the psychology of Experience and Association, the "Analysis" had not obtained the amount of immediate success which it deserved, though it had made a deep impression on many individual minds, and had largely contributed, through those minds, to create that more favourable atmosphere for the Association Psychology of which we now have the benefit. Admirably adapted for a class book of the Experience Metaphysics, it only required to be enriched, and in some cases corrected, by the results of more recent labours in the same school of thought, to stand, as it now does, in company with Mr Bain's treatises, at the head of the systematic works on Analytic476 psychology.
In the autumn of 1868 the Parliament which passed the Reform Act was dissolved, and at the new election for Westminster I was thrown out; not to my surprise, nor, I believe, to that of my principal supporters, though in the few days preceding the election they had become more sanguine than before. That I should not have been elected at all would not have required any explanation; what excites curiosity is that I should have been elected the first time, or, having been elected then, should have been defeated afterwards. But the efforts made to defeat me were far greater on the second occasion than on the first. For One thing, the Tory Government was now struggling for existence, and success in any contest was of more importance to them. Then, too, all persons of Tory feelings were far more embittered477 against me individually than on the previous occasion; many who had at first been either favourable or indifferent, were vehemently478 opposed to my re-election. As I had shown in my political writings that I was aware of the weak points in democratic opinions, some Conservatives, it seems, had not been without hopes of finding me an opponent of democracy, as I was able to see the Conservative side of the question, they presumed that, like them, I could not see any other side. Yet if they had really read my writings, they would have known that after giving full weight to all that appeared to me well grounded in the arguments against democracy, I unhesitatingly decided in its favour, while recommending that it should be accompanied by such institutions as were consistent with its principle and calculated to ward39 off its inconveniences: one of the chief of these remedies being Proportional Representation, on which scarcely any of the Conservatives gave me any support. Some Tory expectations appear to have been founded on the approbation I had expressed of plural249 voting, under certain conditions: and it has been surmised479 that the suggestion of this sort made in one of the Resolutions which Mr Disraeli introduced into the House preparatory to his Reform Bill (a suggestion which meeting with no favour he did not press), may have been occasioned by what I had written on the point: but if so, it was forgotten that I had made it an express condition that the privilege of a plurality of votes should be annexed480 to education, not to property, and even so, had approved of it only on the supposition of universal suffrage. How utterly481 inadmissible such plural voting would be under the suffrage given by the present Reform Act, is proved, to any who could otherwise doubt it, by the very small weight which the working classes are found to possess in elections, even under the law which gives no more votes to any one elector than to any other.
While I thus was far more obnoxious482 to the Tory interest, and to many Conservative Liberals than I had formerly been, the course I pursued in Parliament had by no means been such as to make Liberals generally at all enthusiastic in my support. It has already been mentioned, how large a proportion of my prominent appearances had been on questions on which I differed from most of the Liberal party, or about which they cared little, and how few occasions there had been on which the line I took was such as could lead them to attach any great value to me as an organ of their opinions. I had moreover done things which had excited, in many minds, a personal prejudice against me. Many were offended by what they called the persecution483 of Mr Eyre: and still greater offence was taken at my sending a subscription to the election expenses of Mr Bradlaugh. Having refused to be at any expense for my own election, and having had all its expenses defrayed by others, I felt under a peculiar obligation to subscribe in turn where funds were deficient484 for candidates whose election my was desirable. I accordingly sent subscriptions485 to nearly all the working class candidates, and among others to Mr Bradlaugh. He had the support of the working classes; having heard him speak, I knew him to be a man of ability and he had proved that he was the reverse of a demagogue, by placing himself in strong opposition to the prevailing opinion of the democratic party on two such important subjects as Malthusianism and Personal Representation. Men of this sort, who, while sharing the democratic feelings of the working classes, judged political questions for themselves, and had courage to assert their individual convictions against popular opposition, were needed, as it seemed to me, in Parliament, and I did not think that Mr Bradlaugh's anti-religious opinions (even though he had been intemperate in the expression of them) ought to exclude him. In subscribing486, however, to his election, I did what would have been highly imprudent if I had been at liberty to consider only the interests of my own reelection; and, as might be expected, the utmost possible use, both fair and unfair, was made of this act of mine to stir up the electors of Westminster against me. To these various causes, combined with an unscrupulous use of the usual pecuniary and other influences on the side of my Tory competitor, while none were used on my side, it is to be ascribed that I failed at my second election after having succeeded at the first. No sooner was the result of the election known than I received three or four invitations to become a candidate for other constituencies, chiefly counties; but even if success could have been expected, and this without expense, I was not disposed to deny myself the relief of returning to private life. I had no cause to feel humiliated487 at my rejection by the electors; and if I had, the feeling would have been far outweighed488 by the numerous expressions of regret which I received from all sorts of persons and places, and in a most marked degree from those members of the liberal party in Parliament, with whom I had been accustomed to act.
Since that time little has occurred which there is need to commemorate489 in this place. I returned to my old pursuits and to the enjoyment490 of a country life in the South of Europe, alternating twice a year with a residence of some weeks or months in the neighbourhood of London. I have written various articles in periodicals (chiefly in my friend Mr Morley's Fortnightly Review), have made a small number of speeches on public occasions, especially at the meetings of the Women's Suffrage Society, have published the "Subjection of Women," written some years before, with some additions by my daughter and myself, and have commenced the preparation of matter for future books, of which it will be time to speak more particularly if I live to finish them. Here, therefore, for the present, this Memoir491 may close.
The End
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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abridge
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logic
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interval
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undone
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mere
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vice
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antagonist
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varied
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controversies
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rejection
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rehabilitated
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induction
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treatise
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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34
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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36
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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37
derives
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| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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38
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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rectifying
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| 改正，矫正( rectify的现在分词 )； 精馏； 蒸流； 整流 | |
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41
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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42
requisites
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| n.必要的事物( requisite的名词复数 ) | |
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43
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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44
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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45
mischiefs
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| 损害( mischief的名词复数 )； 危害； 胡闹； 调皮捣蛋的人 | |
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46
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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47
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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48
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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49
justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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50
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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51
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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52
voucher
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| n.收据；传票；凭单，凭证 | |
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53
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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54
consecrating
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| v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的现在分词 )；奉献 | |
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55
cognate
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| adj.同类的，同源的，同族的；n.同家族的人，同源词 | |
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56
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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57
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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58
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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59
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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60
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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61
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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62
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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63
sociability
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| n.好交际，社交性，善于交际 | |
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64
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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65
compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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66
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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67
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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68
deteriorated
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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70
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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71
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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72
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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73
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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74
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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75
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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76
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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77
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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78
interpretations
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| n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 )；表演；演绎；理解 | |
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79
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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80
ordinances
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| n.条例，法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
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81
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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82
entirely
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|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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83
discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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84
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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85
abeyance
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| n.搁置，缓办，中止，产权未定 | |
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86
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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87
regenerate
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| vt.使恢复，使新生；vi.恢复，再生；adj.恢复的 | |
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88
economists
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| n.经济学家，经济专家( economist的名词复数 ) | |
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89
mitigating
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的现在分词 ) | |
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90
entails
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| 使…成为必要( entail的第三人称单数 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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91
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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92
chimerical
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| adj.荒诞不经的，梦幻的 | |
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93
democrat
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
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94
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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95
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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96
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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97
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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98
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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99
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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100
socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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101
repudiated
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|
| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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102
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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103
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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104
paupers
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| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
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105
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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106
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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107
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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108
procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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109
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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110
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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111
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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112
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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113
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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114
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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115
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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116
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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117
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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118
commonwealths
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| n.共和国( commonwealth的名词复数 )；联邦；团体；协会 | |
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119
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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120
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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121
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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122
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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123
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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124
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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125
promulgated
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| v.宣扬（某事物）( promulgate的过去式和过去分词 )；传播；公布；颁布（法令、新法律等） | |
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126
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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127
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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128
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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129
destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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130
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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131
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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132
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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133
conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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134
proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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135
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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136
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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137
conditionally
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| adv. 有条件地 | |
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138
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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139
counteraction
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| 反对的行动，抵抗，反动 | |
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140
pretension
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| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
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141
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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142
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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143
imputation
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| n.归罪，责难 | |
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144
disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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145
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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146
eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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147
precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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148
usurper
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| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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149
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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150
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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151
deterioration
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| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
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152
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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153
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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154
modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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155
renovation
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| n.革新，整修 | |
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156
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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157
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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158
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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159
emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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160
concurring
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| 同时发生的，并发的 | |
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161
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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162
auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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163
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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164
aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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165
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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166
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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167
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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168
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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169
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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170
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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171
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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172
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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173
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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174
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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175
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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176
sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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177
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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178
frustrated
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| 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 | |
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179
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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180
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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181
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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182
worthiness
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| 价值，值得 | |
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183
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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184
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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185
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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186
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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187
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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188
jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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189
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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190
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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191
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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192
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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193
mediator
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| n.调解人，中介人 | |
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194
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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195
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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196
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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197
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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198
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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199
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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200
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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201
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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202
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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203
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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204
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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205
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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206
generalizations
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| 一般化( generalization的名词复数 )； 普通化； 归纳； 概论 | |
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207
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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208
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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209
animating
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| v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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210
illustrates
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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211
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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212
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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213
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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214
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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215
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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216
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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217
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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218
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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219
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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220
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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221
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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222
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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223
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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224
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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225
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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226
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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227
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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228
ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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229
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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230
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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231
noxious
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|
| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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232
stunting
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| v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的现在分词 ) | |
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233
dwarfing
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| n.矮化病 | |
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234
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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235
celebrated
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|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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236
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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237
declamation
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| n. 雄辩，高调 | |
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238
remarkable
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|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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239
followers
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|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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240
forth
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|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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241
consecrate
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|
| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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242
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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243
tempted
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|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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244
abortive
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|
| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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245
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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246
ballot
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| n.（不记名）投票，投票总数，投票权；vi.投票 | |
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247
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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248
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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249
plural
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| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
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250
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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251
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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252
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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253
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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254
authenticated
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|
| v.证明是真实的、可靠的或有效的( authenticate的过去式和过去分词 )；鉴定，使生效 | |
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255
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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256
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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257
felicitous
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| adj.恰当的，巧妙的；n.恰当，贴切 | |
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258
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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259
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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260
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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261
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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262
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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263
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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264
incompetent
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| adj.无能力的，不能胜任的 | |
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265
aspires
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的第三人称单数 ) | |
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266
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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267
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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268
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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269
dissertations
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| 专题论文，学位论文( dissertation的名词复数 ) | |
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270
vindicating
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的现在分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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271
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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272
vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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273
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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274
recluse
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| n.隐居者 | |
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275
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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276
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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277
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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278
stimulator
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| n.刺激物，刺激者 | |
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279
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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280
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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281
treatises
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| n.专题著作，专题论文，专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
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282
radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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283
legislative
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| n.立法机构，立法权；adj.立法的，有立法权的 | |
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284
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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285
amendments
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|
| （法律、文件的）改动( amendment的名词复数 )； 修正案； 修改； （美国宪法的）修正案 | |
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286
amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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287
attainable
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| a.可达到的，可获得的 | |
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288
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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289
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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290
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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291
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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292
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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293
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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294
disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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295
abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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296
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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297
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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298
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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299
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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300
corrupted
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|
| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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301
violations
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|
| 违反( violation的名词复数 )； 冒犯； 违反（行为、事例）； 强奸 | |
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302
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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303
stereotype
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|
| n.固定的形象，陈规，老套，旧框框 | |
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304
contemplated
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|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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305
Partisanship
|
|
| n. 党派性, 党派偏见 | |
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306
frenzy
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|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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307
influential
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|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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308
professing
|
|
| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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309
continental
|
|
| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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310
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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311
extorted
|
|
| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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312
questionable
|
|
| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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313
tariffs
|
|
| 关税制度； 关税( tariff的名词复数 )； 关税表； （旅馆或饭店等的）收费表； 量刑标准 | |
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314
perverted
|
|
| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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315
seizure
|
|
| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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316
envoys
|
|
| 使节( envoy的名词复数 )； 公使； 谈判代表； 使节身份 | |
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317
vessel
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|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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318
prevailing
|
|
| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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319
justifiable
|
|
| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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320
avowal
|
|
| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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321
deferred
|
|
| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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322
illiberal
|
|
| adj.气量狭小的，吝啬的 | |
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323
nucleus
|
|
| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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324
durable
|
|
| adj.持久的，耐久的 | |
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325
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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326
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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327
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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328
psychology
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|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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329
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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330
dispelled
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|
| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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331
hindrances
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|
| 阻碍者( hindrance的名词复数 )； 障碍物； 受到妨碍的状态 | |
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332
justified
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|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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333
fortress
|
|
| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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334
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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335
flinch
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|
| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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336
scrupulous
|
|
| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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337
disciples
|
|
| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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338
oversights
|
|
| n.疏忽( oversight的名词复数 )；忽略；失察；负责 | |
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339
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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340
publicity
|
|
| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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341
adherents
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|
| n.支持者，拥护者( adherent的名词复数 )；党羽；徒子徒孙 | |
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342
sifting
|
|
| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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343
deriving
|
|
| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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344
ascertaining
|
|
| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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345
revert
|
|
| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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346
diminution
|
|
| n.减少；变小 | |
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347
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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348
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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349
incompatibility
|
|
| n.不兼容 | |
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350
precluded
|
|
| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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351
expend
|
|
| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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352
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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353
incur
|
|
| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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354
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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355
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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356
unpaid
|
|
| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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357
subscription
|
|
| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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358
subscribe
|
|
| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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359
expended
|
|
| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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360
indirectly
|
|
| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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361
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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362
conscientiously
|
|
| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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363
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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364
canvass
|
|
| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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365
suffrage
|
|
| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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366
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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367
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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368
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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369
canvassing
|
|
| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的现在分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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370
nomination
|
|
| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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371
interrogated
|
|
| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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372
liars
|
|
| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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373
vehement
|
|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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374
resounded
|
|
| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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375
equivocation
|
|
| n.模棱两可的话，含糊话 | |
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376
evasion
|
|
| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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377
suffrages
|
|
| （政治性选举的）选举权，投票权( suffrage的名词复数 ) | |
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378
straightforwardness
|
|
| n.坦白，率直 | |
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379
outweighs
|
|
| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的第三人称单数 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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380
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
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381
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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382
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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383
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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384
extemporaneously
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385
meddle
|
|
| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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386
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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387
WHIMS
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|
| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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388
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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389
metropolitan
|
|
| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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390
metropolis
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|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
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391
indifference
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|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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392
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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393
obloquy
|
|
| n.斥责，大骂 | |
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394
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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395
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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396
ironical
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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397
sobriquet
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|
| n.绰号 | |
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398
apprehension
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|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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399
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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400
ministry
|
|
| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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401
exclusion
|
|
| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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402
exasperation
|
|
| n.愤慨 | |
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403
impending
|
|
| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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404
censured
|
|
| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的过去式 ) | |
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405
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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406
avowed
|
|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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407
dissented
|
|
| 不同意，持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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408
hoist
|
|
| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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409
professes
|
|
| 声称( profess的第三人称单数 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
参考例句： |
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410
intemperate
|
|
| adj.无节制的，放纵的 | |
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411
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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412
juncture
|
|
| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
参考例句： |
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413
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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414
insurgent
|
|
| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
参考例句： |
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415
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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416
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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417
engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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418
adoption
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| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
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419
territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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420
undesirableness
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| 不受欢迎的人，不良分子( undesirable的名词复数 ) | |
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421
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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422
tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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423
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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424
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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425
impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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426
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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427
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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428
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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429
atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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430
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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431
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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432
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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433
prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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434
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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435
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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436
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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437
functionaries
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| n.公职人员，官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
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438
redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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439
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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440
authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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441
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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442
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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443
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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444
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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445
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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446
assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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447
extradition
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| n.引渡（逃犯） | |
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448
avowedly
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| adv.公然地 | |
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449
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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450
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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451
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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452
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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453
bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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454
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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455
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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456
jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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457
dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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458
honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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459
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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460
franchise
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| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
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461
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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462
abjure
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| v.发誓放弃 | |
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463
tellers
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| n.（银行）出纳员( teller的名词复数 )；（投票时的）计票员；讲故事等的人；讲述者 | |
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464
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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465
enumeration
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| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
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466
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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467
propounding
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的现在分词 ) | |
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468
multiplication
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| n.增加，增多，倍增；增殖，繁殖；乘法 | |
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469
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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470
constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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471
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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472
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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473
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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474
diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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475
philological
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| adj.语言学的，文献学的 | |
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476
analytic
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| adj.分析的，用分析方法的 | |
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477
embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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478
vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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479
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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480
annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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481
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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482
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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483
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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484
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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485
subscriptions
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| 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 | |
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486
subscribing
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| v.捐助( subscribe的现在分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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487
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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488
outweighed
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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489
commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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490
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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491
memoir
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| n.[pl.]回忆录，自传；记事录 | |
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