We have seen these things, though we have seen them only in the cold, silent, colourless print of books and newspapers. In stigmatising the printed word as cold, silent and colourless, I have no intention of putting a slight upon the fidelity5 and the talents of men who have provided us with words to read about the battles in Manchuria. I only wished to suggest that in the nature of things, the war in the Far East has been made known to us, so far, in a grey reflection of its terrible and monotonous6 phases of pain, death, sickness; a reflection seen in the perspective of thousands of miles, in the dim atmosphere of official reticence7, through the veil of inadequate8 words. Inadequate, I say, because what had to be reproduced is beyond the common experience of war, and our imagination, luckily for our peace of mind, has remained a slumbering9 faculty10, notwithstanding the din11 of humanitarian12 talk and the real progress of humanitarian ideas. Direct vision of the fact, or the stimulus13 of a great art, can alone make it turn and open its eyes heavy with blessed sleep; and even there, as against the testimony14 of the senses and the stirring up of emotion, that saving callousness15 which reconciles us to the conditions of our existence, will assert itself under the guise16 of assent17 to fatal necessity, or in the enthusiasm of a purely18 aesthetic19 admiration20 of the rendering21. In this age of knowledge our sympathetic imagination, to which alone we can look for the ultimate triumph of concord22 and justice, remains23 strangely impervious24 to information, however correctly and even picturesquely25 conveyed. As to the vaunted eloquence26 of a serried27 array of figures, it has all the futility28 of precision without force. It is the exploded superstition29 of enthusiastic statisticians. An over-worked horse falling in front of our windows, a man writhing30 under a cart-wheel in the streets awaken31 more genuine emotion, more horror, pity, and indignation than the stream of reports, appalling32 in their monotony, of tens of thousands of decaying bodies tainting33 the air of the Manchurian plains, of other tens of thousands of maimed bodies groaning34 in ditches, crawling on the frozen ground, filling the field hospitals; of the hundreds of thousands of survivors35 no less pathetic and even more tragic36 in being left alive by fate to the wretched exhaustion of their pitiful toil37.
An early Victorian, or perhaps a pre-Victorian, sentimentalist, looking out of an upstairs window, I believe, at a street — perhaps Fleet Street itself — full of people, is reported, by an admiring friend, to have wept for joy at seeing so much life. These arcadian tears, this facile emotion worthy38 of the golden age, comes to us from the past, with solemn approval, after the close of the Napoleonic wars and before the series of sanguinary surprises held in reserve by the nineteenth century for our hopeful grandfathers. We may well envy them their optimism of which this anecdote39 of an amiable40 wit and sentimentalist presents an extreme instance, but still, a true instance, and worthy of regard in the spontaneous testimony to that trust in the life of the earth, triumphant41 at last in the felicity of her children. Moreover, the psychology42 of individuals, even in the most extreme instances, reflects the general effect of the fears and hopes of its time. Wept for joy! I should think that now, after eighty years, the emotion would be of a sterner sort. One could not imagine anybody shedding tears of joy at the sight of much life in a street, unless, perhaps, he were an enthusiastic officer of a general staff or a popular politician, with a career yet to make. And hardly even that. In the case of the first tears would be unprofessional, and a stern repression43 of all signs of joy at the provision of so much food for powder more in accord with the rules of prudence44; the joy of the second would be checked before it found issue in weeping by anxious doubts as to the soundness of these electors’ views upon the question of the hour, and the fear of missing the consensus45 of their votes.
No! It seems that such a tender joy would be misplaced now as much as ever during the last hundred years, to go no further back. The end of the eighteenth century was, too, a time of optimism and of dismal46 mediocrity in which the French Revolution exploded like a bomb-shell. In its lurid47 blaze the insufficiency of Europe, the inferiority of minds, of military and administrative48 systems, stood exposed with pitiless vividness. And there is but little courage in saying at this time of the day that the glorified49 French Revolution itself, except for its destructive force, was in essentials a mediocre50 phenomenon. The parentage of that great social and political upheaval52 was intellectual, the idea was elevated; but it is the bitter fate of any idea to lose its royal form and power, to lose its “virtue” the moment it descends53 from its solitary54 throne to work its will among the people. It is a king whose destiny is never to know the obedience55 of his subjects except at the cost of degradation56. The degradation of the ideas of freedom and justice at the root of the French Revolution is made manifest in the person of its heir; a personality without law or faith, whom it has been the fashion to represent as an eagle, but who was, in truth, more like a sort of vulture preying57 upon the body of a Europe which did, indeed, for some dozen of years, very much resemble a corpse58. The subtle and manifold influence for evil of the Napoleonic episode as a school of violence, as a sower of national hatreds59, as the direct provocator of obscurantism and reaction, of political tyranny and injustice60, cannot well be exaggerated.
The nineteenth century began with wars which were the issue of a corrupted62 revolution. It may be said that the twentieth begins with a war which is like the explosive ferment63 of a moral grave, whence may yet emerge a new political organism to take the place of a gigantic and dreaded64 phantom66. For a hundred years the ghost of Russian might, overshadowing with its fantastic bulk the councils of Central and Western Europe, sat upon the gravestone of autocracy67, cutting off from air, from light, from all knowledge of themselves and of the world, the buried millions of Russian people. Not the most determined68 cockney sentimentalist could have had the heart to weep for joy at the thought of its teeming69 numbers! And yet they were living, they are alive yet, since, through the mist of print, we have seen their blood freezing crimson70 upon the snow of the squares and streets of St. Petersburg; since their generations born in the grave are yet alive enough to fill the ditches and cover the fields of Manchuria with their torn limbs; to send up from the frozen ground of battlefields a chorus of groans71 calling for vengeance72 from Heaven; to kill and retreat, or kill and advance, without intermission or rest for twenty hours, for fifty hours, for whole weeks of fatigue73, hunger, cold, and murder — till their ghastly labour, worthy of a place amongst the punishments of Dante’s Inferno74, passing through the stages of courage, of fury, of hopelessness, sinks into the night of crazy despair.
It seems that in both armies many men are driven beyond the bounds of sanity75 by the stress of moral and physical misery76. Great numbers of soldiers and regimental officers go mad as if by way of protest against the peculiar77 sanity of a state of war: mostly among the Russians, of course. The Japanese have in their favour the tonic78 effect of success; and the innate79 gentleness of their character stands them in good stead. But the Japanese grand army has yet another advantage in this nerve-destroying contest, which for endless, arduous80 toil of killing81 surpasses all the wars of history. It has a base for its operations; a base of a nature beyond the concern of the many books written upon the so-called art of war, which, considered by itself, purely as an exercise of human ingenuity82, is at best only a thing of well-worn, simple artifices83. The Japanese army has for its base a reasoned conviction; it has behind it the profound belief in the right of a logical necessity to be appeased84 at the cost of so much blood and treasure. And in that belief, whether well or ill founded, that army stands on the high ground of conscious assent, shouldering deliberately85 the burden of a long-tried faithfulness. The other people (since each people is an army nowadays), torn out from a miserable86 quietude resembling death itself, hurled87 across space, amazed, without starting-point of its own or knowledge of the aim, can feel nothing but a horror-stricken consciousness of having mysteriously become the plaything of a black and merciless fate.
The profound, the instructive nature of this war is resumed by the memorable88 difference in the spiritual state of the two armies; the one forlorn and dazed on being driven out from an abyss of mental darkness into the red light of a conflagration89, the other with a full knowledge of its past and its future, “finding itself” as it were at every step of the trying war before the eyes of an astonished world. The greatness of the lesson has been dwarfed90 for most of us by an often half-conscious prejudice of race-difference. The West having managed to lodge91 its hasty foot on the neck of the East, is prone92 to forget that it is from the East that the wonders of patience and wisdom have come to a world of men who set the value of life in the power to act rather than in the faculty of meditation93. It has been dwarfed by this, and it has been obscured by a cloud of considerations with whose shaping wisdom and meditation had little or nothing to do; by the weary platitudes94 on the military situation which (apart from geographical95 conditions) is the same everlasting96 situation that has prevailed since the times of Hannibal and Scipio, and further back yet, since the beginning of historical record — since prehistoric97 times, for that matter; by the conventional expressions of horror at the tale of maiming and killing; by the rumours98 of peace with guesses more or less plausible99 as to its conditions. All this is made legitimate100 by the consecrated101 custom of writers in such time as this — the time of a great war. More legitimate in view of the situation created in Europe are the speculations104 as to the course of events after the war. More legitimate, but hardly more wise than the irresponsible talk of strategy that never changes, and of terms of peace that do not matter.
And above it all — unaccountably persistent105 — the decrepit106, old, hundred years old, spectre of Russia’s might still faces Europe from across the teeming graves of Russian people. This dreaded and strange apparition107, bristling108 with bayonets, armed with chains, hung over with holy images; that something not of this world, partaking of a ravenous109 ghoul, of a blind Djinn grown up from a cloud, and of the Old Man of the Sea, still faces us with its old stupidity, with its strange mystical arrogance110, stamping its shadowy feet upon the gravestone of autocracy already cracked beyond repair by the torpedoes111 of Togo and the guns of Oyama, already heaving in the blood-soaked ground with the first stirrings of a resurrection.
Never before had the Western world the opportunity to look so deep into the black abyss which separates a soulless autocracy posing as, and even believing itself to be, the arbiter113 of Europe, from the benighted114, starved souls of its people. This is the real object-lesson of this war, its unforgettable information. And this war’s true mission, disengaged from the economic origins of that contest, from doors open or shut, from the fields of Korea for Russian wheat or Japanese rice, from the ownership of ice-free ports and the command of the waters of the East — its true mission was to lay a ghost. It has accomplished115 it. Whether Kuropatkin was incapable116 or unlucky, whether or not Russia issuing next year, or the year after next, from behind a rampart of piled-up corpses117 will win or lose a fresh campaign, are minor118 considerations. The task of Japan is done, the mission accomplished; the ghost of Russia’s might is laid. Only Europe, accustomed so long to the presence of that portent119, seems unable to comprehend that, as in the fables120 of our childhood, the twelve strokes of the hour have rung, the cock has crowed, the apparition has vanished — never to haunt again this world which has been used to gaze at it with vague dread65 and many misgivings121.
It was a fascination122. And the hallucination still lasts as inexplicable123 in its persistence as in its duration. It seems so unaccountable, that the doubt arises as to the sincerity124 of all that talk as to what Russia will or will not do, whether it will raise or not another army, whether it will bury the Japanese in Manchuria under seventy millions of sacrificed peasants’ caps (as her Press boasted a little more than a year ago) or give up to Japan that jewel of her crown, Saghalien, together with some other things; whether, perchance, as an interesting alternative, it will make peace on the Amur in order to make war beyond the Oxus.
All these speculations (with many others) have appeared gravely in print; and if they have been gravely considered by only one reader out of each hundred, there must be something subtly noxious125 to the human brain in the composition of newspaper ink; or else it is that the large page, the columns of words, the leaded headings, exalt126 the mind into a state of feverish127 credulity. The printed page of the Press makes a sort of still uproar128, taking from men both the power to reflect and the faculty of genuine feeling; leaving them only the artificially created need of having something exciting to talk about.
The truth is that the Russia of our fathers, of our childhood, of our middle-age; the testamentary Russia of Peter the Great — who imagined that all the nations were delivered into the hand of Tsardom — can do nothing. It can do nothing because it does not exist. It has vanished for ever at last, and as yet there is no new Russia to take the place of that ill-omened creation, which, being a fantasy of a madman’s brain, could in reality be nothing else than a figure out of a nightmare seated upon a monument of fear and oppression.
The true greatness of a State does not spring from such a contemptible129 source. It is a matter of logical growth, of faith and courage. Its inspiration springs from the constructive130 instinct of the people, governed by the strong hand of a collective conscience and voiced in the wisdom and counsel of men who seldom reap the reward of gratitude131. Many States have been powerful, but, perhaps, none have been truly great — as yet. That the position of a State in reference to the moral methods of its development can be seen only historically, is true. Perhaps mankind has not lived long enough for a comprehensive view of any particular case. Perhaps no one will ever live long enough; and perhaps this earth shared out amongst our clashing ambitions by the anxious arrangements of statesmen will come to an end before we attain132 the felicity of greeting with unanimous applause the perfect fruition of a great State. It is even possible that we are destined133 for another sort of bliss134 altogether: that sort which consists in being perpetually duped by false appearances. But whatever political illusion the future may hold out to our fear or our admiration, there will be none, it is safe to say, which in the magnitude of anti-humanitarian effect will equal that phantom now driven out of the world by the thunder of thousands of guns; none that in its retreat will cling with an equally shameless sincerity to more unworthy supports: to the moral corruption136 and mental darkness of slavery, to the mere137 brute138 force of numbers.
This very ignominy of infatuation should make clear to men’s feelings and reason that the downfall of Russia’s might is unavoidable. Spectral139 it lived and spectral it disappears without leaving a memory of a single generous deed, of a single service rendered — even involuntarily — to the polity of nations. Other despotisms there have been, but none whose origin was so grimly fantastic in its baseness, and the beginning of whose end was so gruesomely ignoble140. What is amazing is the myth of its irresistible141 strength which is dying so hard.
Considered historically, Russia’s influence in Europe seems the most baseless thing in the world; a sort of convention invented by diplomatists for some dark purpose of their own, one would suspect, if the lack of grasp upon the realities of any given situation were not the main characteristic of the management of international relations. A glance back at the last hundred years shows the invariable, one may say the logical, powerlessness of Russia. As a military power it has never achieved by itself a single great thing. It has been indeed able to repel142 an ill-considered invasion, but only by having recourse to the extreme methods of desperation. In its attacks upon its specially143 selected victim this giant always struck as if with a withered144 right hand. All the campaigns against Turkey prove this, from Potemkin’s time to the last Eastern war in 1878, entered upon with every advantage of a well-nursed prestige and a carefully fostered fanaticism146. Even the half-armed were always too much for the might of Russia, or, rather, of the Tsardom. It was victorious147 only against the practically disarmed148, as, in regard to its ideal of territorial149 expansion, a glance at a map will prove sufficiently150. As an ally, Russia has been always unprofitable, taking her share in the defeats rather than in the victories of her friends, but always pushing her own claims with the arrogance of an arbiter of military success. She has been unable to help to any purpose a single principle to hold its own, not even the principle of authority and legitimism which Nicholas the First had declared so haughtily153 to rest under his special protection; just as Nicholas the Second has tried to make the maintenance of peace on earth his own exclusive affair. And the first Nicholas was a good Russian; he held the belief in the sacredness of his realm with such an intensity154 of faith that he could not survive the first shock of doubt. Rightly envisaged155, the Crimean war was the end of what remained of absolutism and legitimism in Europe. It threw the way open for the liberation of Italy. The war in Manchuria makes an end of absolutism in Russia, whoever has got to perish from the shock behind a rampart of dead ukases, manifestoes, and rescripts. In the space of fifty years the self-appointed Apostle of Absolutism and the self-appointed Apostle of Peace, the Augustus and the Augustulus of the regime that was wont157 to speak contemptuously to European Foreign Offices in the beautiful French phrases of Prince Gorchakov, have fallen victims, each after his kind, to their shadowy and dreadful familiar, to the phantom, part ghoul, part Djinn, part Old Man of the Sea, with beak158 and claws and a double head, looking greedily both east and west on the confines of two continents.
That nobody through all that time penetrated159 the true nature of the monster it is impossible to believe. But of the many who must have seen, all were either too modest, too cautious, perhaps too discreet160, to speak; or else were too insignificant161 to be heard or believed. Yet not all.
In the very early sixties, Prince Bismarck, then about to leave his post of Prussian Minister in St. Petersburg, called — so the story goes — upon another distinguished162 diplomatist. After some talk upon the general situation, the future Chancellor163 of the German Empire remarked that it was his practice to resume the impressions he had carried out of every country where he had made a long stay, in a short sentence, which he caused to be engraved164 upon some trinket. “I am leaving this country now, and this is what I bring away from it,” he continued, taking off his finger a new ring to show to his colleague the inscription165 inside: “La Russie, c’est le néant.”
Prince Bismarck had the truth of the matter and was neither too modest nor too discreet to speak out. Certainly he was not afraid of not being believed. Yet he did not shout his knowledge from the house-tops. He meant to have the phantom as his accomplice166 in an enterprise which has set the clock of peace back for many a year.
He had his way. The German Empire has been an accomplished fact for more than a third of a century — a great and dreadful legacy167 left to the world by the ill-omened phantom of Russia’s might.
It is that phantom which is disappearing now — unexpectedly, astonishingly, as if by a touch of that wonderful magic for which the East has always been famous. The pretence168 of belief in its existence will no longer answer anybody’s purposes (now Prince Bismarck is dead) unless the purposes of the writers of sensational169 paragraphs as to this néant making an armed descent upon the plains of India. That sort of folly170 would be beneath notice if it did not distract attention from the real problem created for Europe by a war in the Far East.
For good or evil in the working out of her destiny, Russia is bound to remain a néant for many long years, in a more even than a Bismarckian sense. The very fear of this spectre being gone, it behoves us to consider its legacy — the fact (no phantom that) accomplished in Central Europe by its help and connivance171.
The German Empire may feel at bottom the loss of an old accomplice always amenable172 to the confidential173 whispers of a bargain; but in the first instance it cannot but rejoice at the fundamental weakening of a possible obstacle to its instincts of territorial expansion. There is a removal of that latent feeling of restraint which the presence of a powerful neighbour, however implicated174 with you in a sense of common guilt175, is bound to inspire. The common guilt of the two Empires is defined precisely176 by their frontier line running through the Polish provinces. Without indulging in excessive feelings of indignation at that country’s partition, or going so far as to believe — with a late French politician — in the “immanente justice des choses,” it is clear that a material situation, based upon an essentially177 immoral178 transaction, contains the germ of fatal differences in the temperament179 of the two partners in iniquity180 — whatever the iniquity is. Germany has been the evil counsellor of Russia on all the questions of her Polish problem. Always urging the adoption181 of the most repressive measures with a perfectly182 logical duplicity, Prince Bismarck’s Empire has taken care to couple the neighbourly offers of military assistance with merciless advice. The thought of the Polish provinces accepting a frank reconciliation183 with a humanised Russia and bringing the weight of homogeneous loyalty184 within a few miles of Berlin, has been always intensely distasteful to the arrogant185 Germanising tendencies of the other partner in iniquity. And, besides, the way to the Baltic provinces leads over the Niemen and over the Vistula.
And now, when there is a possibility of serious internal disturbances186 destroying the sort of order autocracy has kept in Russia, the road over these rivers is seen wearing a more inviting187 aspect. At any moment the pretext188 of armed intervention189 may be found in a revolutionary outbreak provoked by Socialists190, perhaps — but at any rate by the political immaturity191 of the enlightened classes and by the political barbarism of the Russian people. The throes of Russian resurrection will be long and painful. This is not the place to speculate upon the nature of these convulsions, but there must be some violent break-up of the lamentable192 tradition, a shattering of the social, of the administrative — certainly of the territorial — unity112.
Voices have been heard saying that the time for reforms in Russia is already past. This is the superficial view of the more profound truth that for Russia there has never been such a time within the memory of mankind. It is impossible to initiate193 a rational scheme of reform upon a phase of blind absolutism; and in Russia there has never been anything else to which the faintest tradition could, after ages of error, go back as to a parting of ways.
In Europe the old monarchical194 principle stands justified196 in its historical struggle with the growth of political liberty by the evolution of the idea of nationality as we see it concreted at the present time; by the inception197 of that wider solidarity198 grouping together around the standard of monarchical power these larger, agglomerations199 of mankind. This service of unification, creating close-knit communities possessing the ability, the will, and the power to pursue a common ideal, has prepared the ground for the advent200 of a still larger understanding: for the solidarity of Europeanism, which must be the next step towards the advent of Concord and Justice; an advent that, however delayed by the fatal worship of force and the errors of national selfishness, has been, and remains, the only possible goal of our progress.
The conceptions of legality, of larger patriotism201, of national duties and aspirations202 have grown under the shadow of the old monarchies204 of Europe, which were the creations of historical necessity. There were seeds of wisdom in their very mistakes and abuses. They had a past and a future; they were human. But under the shadow of Russian autocracy nothing could grow. Russian autocracy succeeded to nothing; it had no historical past, and it cannot hope for a historical future. It can only end. By no industry of investigation205, by no fantastic stretch of benevolence206, can it be presented as a phase of development through which a Society, a State, must pass on the way to the full consciousness of its destiny. It lies outside the stream of progress. This despotism has been utterly207 un-European. Neither has it been Asiatic in its nature. Oriental despotisms belong to the history of mankind; they have left their trace on our minds and our imagination by their splendour, by their culture, by their art, by the exploits of great conquerors208. The record of their rise and decay has an intellectual value; they are in their origins and their course the manifestations209 of human needs, the instruments of racial temperament, of catastrophic force, of faith and fanaticism. The Russian autocracy as we see it now is a thing apart. It is impossible to assign to it any rational origin in the vices210, the misfortunes, the necessities, or the aspirations of mankind. That despotism has neither an European nor an Oriental parentage; more, it seems to have no root either in the institutions or the follies212 of this earth. What strikes one with a sort of awe213 is just this something inhuman214 in its character. It is like a visitation, like a curse from Heaven falling in the darkness of ages upon the immense plains of forest and steppe lying dumbly on the confines of two continents: a true desert harbouring no Spirit either of the East or of the West.
This pitiful fate of a country held by an evil spell, suffering from an awful visitation for which the responsibility cannot be traced either to her sins or her follies, has made Russia as a nation so difficult to understand by Europe. From the very first ghastly dawn of her existence as a State she had to breathe the atmosphere of despotism; she found nothing but the arbitrary will of an obscure autocrat215 at the beginning and end of her organisation216. Hence arises her impenetrability to whatever is true in Western thought. Western thought, when it crosses her frontier, falls under the spell of her autocracy and becomes a noxious parody217 of itself. Hence the contradictions, the riddles218 of her national life, which are looked upon with such curiosity by the rest of the world. The curse had entered her very soul; autocracy, and nothing else in the world, has moulded her institutions, and with the poison of slavery drugged the national temperament into the apathy219 of a hopeless fatalism. It seems to have gone into the blood, tainting every mental activity in its source by a half-mystical, insensate, fascinating assertion of purity and holiness. The Government of Holy Russia, arrogating220 to itself the supreme221 power to torment222 and slaughter223 the bodies of its subjects like a God-sent scourge224, has been most cruel to those whom it allowed to live under the shadow of its dispensation. The worst crime against humanity of that system we behold225 now crouching226 at bay behind vast heaps of mangled227 corpses is the ruthless destruction of innumerable minds. The greatest horror of the world — madness — walked faithfully in its train. Some of the best intellects of Russia, after struggling in vain against the spell, ended by throwing themselves at the feet of that hopeless despotism as a giddy man leaps into an abyss. An attentive228 survey of Russia’s literature, of her Church, of her administration and the cross-currents of her thought, must end in the verdict that the Russia of to-day has not the right to give her voice on a single question touching229 the future of humanity, because from the very inception of her being the brutal230 destruction of dignity, of truth, of rectitude, of all that is faithful in human nature has been made the imperative231 condition of her existence. The great governmental secret of that imperium which Prince Bismarck had the insight and the courage to call Le Néant, has been the extirpation232 of every intellectual hope. To pronounce in the face of such a past the word Evolution, which is precisely the expression of the highest intellectual hope, is a gruesome pleasantry. There can be no evolution out of a grave. Another word of less scientific sound has been very much pronounced of late in connection with Russia’s future, a word of more vague import, a word of dread as much as of hope — Revolution.
In the face of the events of the last four months, this word has sprung instinctively233, as it were, on grave lips, and has been heard with solemn forebodings. More or less consciously, Europe is preparing herself for a spectacle of much violence and perhaps of an inspiring nobility of greatness. And there will be nothing of what she expects. She will see neither the anticipated character of the violence, nor yet any signs of generous greatness. Her expectations, more or less vaguely234 expressed, give the measure of her ignorance of that néant which for so many years had remained hidden behind this phantom of invincible235 armies.
Néant! In a way, yes! And yet perhaps Prince Bismarck has let himself be led away by the seduction of a good phrase into the use of an inexact form. The form of his judgment236 had to be pithy237, striking, engraved within a ring. If he erred238, then, no doubt, he erred deliberately. The saying was near enough the truth to serve, and perhaps he did not want to destroy utterly by a more severe definition the prestige of the sham135 that could not deceive his genius. Prince Bismarck has been really complimentary239 to the useful phantom of the autocratic might. There is an awe-inspiring idea of infinity240 conveyed in the word néant— and in Russia there is no idea. She is not a néant, she is and has been simply the negation241 of everything worth living for. She is not an empty void, she is a yawning chasm242 open between East and West; a bottomless abyss that has swallowed up every hope of mercy, every aspiration203 towards personal dignity, towards freedom, towards knowledge, every ennobling desire of the heart, every redeeming243 whisper of conscience. Those that have peered into that abyss, where the dreams of Panslavism, of universal conquest, mingled244 with the hate and contempt for Western ideas, drift impotently like shapes of mist, know well that it is bottomless; that there is in it no ground for anything that could in the remotest degree serve even the lowest interests of mankind — and certainly no ground ready for a revolution. The sin of the old European monarchies was not the absolutism inherent in every form of government; it was the inability to alter the forms of their legality, grown narrow and oppressive with the march of time. Every form of legality is bound to degenerate245 into oppression, and the legality in the forms of monarchical institutions sooner, perhaps, than any other. It has not been the business of monarchies to be adaptive from within. With the mission of uniting and consolidating246 the particular ambitions and interests of feudalism in favour of a larger conception of a State, of giving self-consciousness, force and nationality to the scattered247 energies of thought and action, they were fated to lag behind the march of ideas they had themselves set in motion in a direction they could neither understand nor approve. Yet, for all that, the thrones still remain, and what is more significant, perhaps, some of the dynasties, too, have survived. The revolutions of European States have never been in the nature of absolute protests en masse against the monarchical principle; they were the uprising of the people against the oppressive degeneration of legality. But there never has been any legality in Russia; she is a negation of that as of everything else that has its root in reason or conscience. The ground of every revolution had to be intellectually prepared. A revolution is a short cut in the rational development of national needs in response to the growth of world-wide ideals. It is conceivably possible for a monarch195 of genius to put himself at the head of a revolution without ceasing to be the king of his people. For the autocracy of Holy Russia the only conceivable self-reform is — suicide.
The same relentless248 fate holds in its grip the all-powerful ruler and his helpless people. Wielders of a power purchased by an unspeakable baseness of subjection to the Khans of the Tartar horde249, the Princes of Russia who, in their heart of hearts had come in time to regard themselves as superior to every monarch of Europe, have never risen to be the chiefs of a nation. Their authority has never been sanctioned by popular tradition, by ideas of intelligent loyalty, of devotion, of political necessity, of simple expediency250, or even by the power of the sword. In whatever form of upheaval autocratic Russia is to find her end, it can never be a revolution fruitful of moral consequences to mankind. It cannot be anything else but a rising of slaves. It is a tragic circumstance that the only thing one can wish to that people who had never seen face to face either law, order, justice, right, truth about itself or the rest of the world; who had known nothing outside the capricious will of its irresponsible masters, is that it should find in the approaching hour of need, not an organiser or a law-giver, with the wisdom of a Lycurgus or a Solon for their service, but at least the force of energy and desperation in some as yet unknown Spartacus.
A brand of hopeless mental and moral inferiority is set upon Russian achievements; and the coming events of her internal changes, however appalling they may be in their magnitude, will be nothing more impressive than the convulsions of a colossal251 body. As her boasted military force that, corrupt61 in its origin, has ever struck no other but faltering252 blows, so her soul, kept benumbed by her temporal and spiritual master with the poison of tyranny and superstition, will find itself on awakening253 possessed254 of no language, a monstrous255 full-grown child having first to learn the ways of living thought and articulate speech. It is safe to say tyranny, assuming a thousand protean256 shapes, will remain clinging to her struggles for a long time before her blind multitudes succeed at last in trampling257 her out of existence under their millions of bare feet.
That would be the beginning. What is to come after? The conquest of freedom to call your soul your own is only the first step on the road to excellence258. We, in Europe, have gone a step or two further, have had the time to forget how little that freedom means. To Russia it must seem everything. A prisoner shut up in a noisome259 dungeon260 concentrates all his hope and desire on the moment of stepping out beyond the gates. It appears to him pregnant with an immense and final importance; whereas what is important is the spirit in which he will draw the first breath of freedom, the counsels he will hear, the hands he may find extended, the endless days of toil that must follow, wherein he will have to build his future with no other material but what he can find within himself.
It would be vain for Russia to hope for the support and counsel of collective wisdom. Since 1870 (as a distinguished statesman of the old tradition disconsolately261 exclaimed) “il n’y a plus d’Europe!” There is, indeed, no Europe. The idea of a Europe united in the solidarity of her dynasties, which for a moment seemed to dawn on the horizon of the Vienna Congress through the subsiding262 dust of Napoleonic alarums and excursions, has been extinguished by the larger glamour263 of less restraining ideals. Instead of the doctrines265 of solidarity it was the doctrine264 of nationalities much more favourable266 to spoliations that came to the front, and since its greatest triumphs at Sadowa and Sedan there is no Europe. Meanwhile till the time comes when there will be no frontiers, there are alliances so shamelessly based upon the exigencies267 of suspicion and mistrust that their cohesive268 force waxes and wanes269 with every year, almost with the event of every passing month. This is the atmosphere Russia will find when the last rampart of tyranny has been beaten down. But what hands, what voices will she find on coming out into the light of day? An ally she has yet who more than any other of Russia’s allies has found that it had parted with lots of solid substance in exchange for a shadow. It is true that the shadow was indeed the mightiest270, the darkest that the modern world had ever known — and the most overbearing. But it is fading now, and the tone of truest anxiety as to what is to take its place will come, no doubt, from that and no other direction, and no doubt, also, it will have that note of generosity271 which even in the moments of greatest aberration272 is seldom wanting in the voice of the French people.
Two neighbours Russia will find at her door. Austria, traditionally unaggressive whenever her hand is not forced, ruled by a dynasty of uncertain future, weakened by her duality, can only speak to her in an uncertain, bilingual phrase. Prussia, grown in something like forty years from an almost pitiful dependant273 into a bullying274 friend and evil counsellor of Russia’s masters, may, indeed, hasten to extend a strong hand to the weakness of her exhausted275 body, but if so it will be only with the intention of tearing away the long-coveted part of her substance.
Pan-Germanism is by no means a shape of mists, and Germany is anything but a néant where thought and effort are likely to lose themselves without sound or trace. It is a powerful and voracious276 organisation, full of unscrupulous self-confidence, whose appetite for aggrandisement will only be limited by the power of helping277 itself to the severed278 members of its friends and neighbours. The era of wars so eloquently279 denounced by the old Republicans as the peculiar blood guilt of dynastic ambitions is by no means over yet. They will be fought out differently, with lesser281 frequency, with an increased bitterness and the savage282 tooth-and-claw obstinacy283 of a struggle for existence. They will make us regret the time of dynastic ambitions, with their human absurdity284 moderated by prudence and even by shame, by the fear of personal responsibility and the regard paid to certain forms of conventional decency285. For, if the monarchs286 of Europe have been derided287 for addressing each other as “brother” in autograph communications, that relationship was at least as effective as any form of brotherhood288 likely to be established between the rival nations of this continent, which, we are assured on all hands, is the heritage of democracy. In the ceremonial brotherhood of monarchs the reality of blood-ties, for what little it is worth, acted often as a drag on unscrupulous desires of glory or greed. Besides, there was always the common danger of exasperated289 peoples, and some respect for each other’s divine right. No leader of a democracy, without other ancestry290 but the sudden shout of a multitude, and debarred by the very condition of his power from even thinking of a direct heir, will have any interest in calling brother the leader of another democracy — a chief as fatherless and heirless as himself.
The war of 1870, brought about by the third Napoleon’s half-generous, half-selfish adoption of the principle of nationalities, was the first war characterised by a special intensity of hate, by a new note in the tune211 of an old song for which we may thank the Teutonic thoroughness. Was it not that excellent bourgeoise, Princess Bismarck (to keep only to great examples), who was so righteously anxious to see men, women and children — emphatically the children, too — of the abominable291 French nation massacred off the face of the earth? This illustration of the new war-temper is artlessly revealed in the prattle292 of the amiable Busch, the Chancellor’s pet “reptile” of the Press. And this was supposed to be a war for an idea! Too much, however, should not be made of that good wife’s and mother’s sentiments any more than of the good First Emperor William’s tears, shed so abundantly after every battle, by letter, telegram, and otherwise, during the course of the same war, before a dumb and shamefaced continent. These were merely the expressions of the simplicity293 of a nation which more than any other has a tendency to run into the grotesque294. There is worse to come.
To-day, in the fierce grapple of two nations of different race, the short era of national wars seems about to close. No war will be waged for an idea. The “noxious idle aristocracies” of yesterday fought without malice295 for an occupation, for the honour, for the fun of the thing. The virtuous296, industrious297 democratic States of to-morrow may yet be reduced to fighting for a crust of dry bread, with all the hate, ferocity, and fury that must attach to the vital importance of such an issue. The dreams sanguine298 humanitarians299 raised almost to ecstasy300 about the year fifty of the last century by the moving sight of the Crystal Palace — crammed301 full with that variegated302 rubbish which it seems to be the bizarre fate of humanity to produce for the benefit of a few employers of labour — have vanished as quickly as they had arisen. The golden hopes of peace have in a single night turned to dead leaves in every drawer of every benevolent303 theorist’s writing table. A swift disenchantment overtook the incredible infatuation which could put its trust in the peaceful nature of industrial and commercial competition.
Industrialism and commercialism — wearing high-sounding names in many languages (Welt-Politik may serve for one instance) picking up coins behind the severe and disdainful figure of science whose giant strides have widened for us the horizon of the universe by some few inches — stand ready, almost eager, to appeal to the sword as soon as the globe of the earth has shrunk beneath our growing numbers by another ell or so. And democracy, which has elected to pin its faith to the supremacy304 of material interests, will have to fight their battles to the bitter end, on a mere pittance305 — unless, indeed, some statesman of exceptional ability and overwhelming prestige succeeds in carrying through an international understanding for the delimitation of spheres of trade all over the earth, on the model of the territorial spheres of influence marked in Africa to keep the competitors for the privilege of improving the nigger (as a buying machine) from flying prematurely306 at each other’s throats.
This seems the only expedient307 at hand for the temporary maintenance of European peace, with its alliances based on mutual308 distrust, preparedness for war as its ideal, and the fear of wounds, luckily stronger, so far, than the pinch of hunger, its only guarantee. The true peace of the world will be a place of refuge much less like a beleaguered309 fortress310 and more, let us hope, in the nature of an Inviolable Temple. It will be built on less perishable311 foundations than those of material interests. But it must be confessed that the architectural aspect of the universal city remains as yet inconceivable — that the very ground for its erection has not been cleared of the jungle.
Never before in history has the right of war been more fully145 admitted in the rounded periods of public speeches, in books, in public prints, in all the public works of peace, culminating in the establishment of the Hague Tribunal — that solemnly official recognition of the Earth as a House of Strife312. To him whose indignation is qualified313 by a measure of hope and affection, the efforts of mankind to work its own salvation314 present a sight of alarming comicality. After clinging for ages to the steps of the heavenly throne, they are now, without much modifying their attitude, trying with touching ingenuity to steal one by one the thunderbolts of their Jupiter. They have removed war from the list of Heaven-sent visitations that could only be prayed against; they have erased315 its name from the supplication316 against the wrath317 of war, pestilence318, and famine, as it is found in the litanies of the Roman Catholic Church; they have dragged the scourge down from the skies and have made it into a calm and regulated institution. At first sight the change does not seem for the better. Jove’s thunderbolt looks a most dangerous plaything in the hands of the people. But a solemnly established institution begins to grow old at once in the discussion, abuse, worship, and execration319 of men. It grows obsolete320, odious321, and intolerable; it stands fatally condemned322 to an unhonoured old age.
Therein lies the best hope of advanced thought, and the best way to help its prospects323 is to provide in the fullest, frankest way for the conditions of the present day. War is one of its conditions; it is its principal condition. It lies at the heart of every question agitating324 the fears and hopes of a humanity divided against itself. The succeeding ages have changed nothing except the watchwords of the armies. The intellectual stage of mankind being as yet in its infancy325, and States, like most individuals, having but a feeble and imperfect consciousness of the worth and force of the inner life, the need of making their existence manifest to themselves is determined in the direction of physical activity. The idea of ceasing to grow in territory, in strength, in wealth, in influence — in anything but wisdom and self-knowledge — is odious to them as the omen51 of the end. Action, in which is to be found the illusion of a mastered destiny, can alone satisfy our uneasy vanity and lay to rest the haunting fear of the future — a sentiment concealed326, indeed, but proving its existence by the force it has, when invoked327, to stir the passions of a nation. It will be long before we have learned that in the great darkness before us there is nothing that we need fear. Let us act lest we perish — is the cry. And the only form of action open to a State can be of no other than aggressive nature.
There are many kinds of aggressions, though the sanction of them is one and the same — the magazine rifle of the latest pattern. In preparation for or against that form of action the States of Europe are spending now such moments of uneasy leisure as they can snatch from the labours of factory and counting-house.
Never before has war received so much homage328 at the lips of men, and reigned329 with less disputed sway in their minds. It has harnessed science to its gun-carriages, it has enriched a few respectable manufacturers, scattered doles330 of food and raiment amongst a few thousand skilled workmen, devoured331 the first youth of whole generations, and reaped its harvest of countless332 corpses. It has perverted333 the intelligence of men, women, and children, and has made the speeches of Emperors, Kings, Presidents, and Ministers monotonous with ardent334 protestations of fidelity to peace. Indeed, war has made peace altogether its own, it has modelled it on its own image: a martial335, overbearing, war-lord sort of peace, with a mailed fist, and turned-up moustaches, ringing with the din of grand manoeuvres, eloquent280 with allusions336 to glorious feats152 of arms; it has made peace so magnificent as to be almost as expensive to keep up as itself. It has sent out apostles of its own, who at one time went about (mostly in newspapers) preaching the gospel of the mystic sanctity of its sacrifices, and the regenerating337 power of spilt blood, to the poor in mind — whose name is legion.
It has been observed that in the course of earthly greatness a day of culminating triumph is often paid for by a morrow of sudden extinction338. Let us hope it is so. Yet the dawn of that day of retribution may be a long time breaking above a dark horizon. War is with us now; and, whether this one ends soon or late, war will be with us again. And it is the way of true wisdom for men and States to take account of things as they are.
Civilisation339 has done its little best by our sensibilities for whose growth it is responsible. It has managed to remove the sights and sounds of battlefields away from our doorsteps. But it cannot be expected to achieve the feat151 always and under every variety of circumstance. Some day it must fail, and we shall have then a wealth of appallingly340 unpleasant sensations brought home to us with painful intimacy341. It is not absurd to suppose that whatever war comes to us next it will not be a distant war waged by Russia either beyond the Amur or beyond the Oxus.
The Japanese armies have laid that ghost for ever, because the Russia of the future will not, for the reasons explained above, be the Russia of to-day. It will not have the same thoughts, resentments342 and aims. It is even a question whether it will preserve its gigantic frame unaltered and unbroken. All speculation103 loses itself in the magnitude of the events made possible by the defeat of an autocracy whose only shadow of a title to existence was the invincible power of military conquest. That autocratic Russia will have a miserable end in harmony with its base origin and inglorious life does not seem open to doubt. The problem of the immediate343 future is posed not by the eventual344 manner but by the approaching fact of its disappearance345.
The Japanese armies, in laying the oppressive ghost, have not only accomplished what will be recognised historically as an important mission in the world’s struggle against all forms of evil, but have also created a situation. They have created a situation in the East which they are competent to manage by themselves; and in doing this they have brought about a change in the condition of the West with which Europe is not well prepared to deal. The common ground of concord, good faith and justice is not sufficient to establish an action upon; since the conscience of but very few men amongst us, and of no single Western nation as yet, will brook346 the restraint of abstract ideas as against the fascination of a material advantage. And eagle-eyed wisdom alone cannot take the lead of human action, which in its nature must for ever remain short-sighted. The trouble of the civilised world is the want of a common conservative principle abstract enough to give the impulse, practical enough to form the rallying point of international action tending towards the restraint of particular ambitions. Peace tribunals instituted for the greater glory of war will not replace it. Whether such a principle exists — who can say? If it does not, then it ought to be invented. A sage156 with a sense of humour and a heart of compassion347 should set about it without loss of time, and a solemn prophet full of words and fire ought to be given the task of preparing the minds. So far there is no trace of such a principle anywhere in sight; even its plausible imitations (never very effective) have disappeared long ago before the doctrine of national aspirations. Il n’y a plus d’Europe— there is only an armed and trading continent, the home of slowly maturing economical contests for life and death and of loudly proclaimed world-wide ambitions. There are also other ambitions not so loud, but deeply rooted in the envious348 acquisitive temperament of the last corner amongst the great Powers of the Continent, whose feet are not exactly in the ocean — not yet — and whose head is very high up — in Pomerania, the breeding place of such precious Grenadiers that Prince Bismarck (whom it is a pleasure to quote) would not have given the bones of one of them for the settlement of the old Eastern Question. But times have changed, since, by way of keeping up, I suppose, some old barbaric German rite102, the faithful servant of the Hohenzollerns was buried alive to celebrate the accession of a new Emperor.
Already the voice of surmises349 has been heard hinting tentatively at a possible re-grouping of European Powers. The alliance of the three Empires is supposed possible. And it may be possible. The myth of Russia’s power is dying very hard — hard enough for that combination to take place — such is the fascination that a discredited350 show of numbers will still exercise upon the imagination of a people trained to the worship of force. Germany may be willing to lend its support to a tottering351 autocracy for the sake of an undisputed first place, and of a preponderating352 voice in the settlement of every question in that south-east of Europe which merges353 into Asia. No principle being involved in such an alliance of mere expediency, it would never be allowed to stand in the way of Germany’s other ambitions. The fall of autocracy would bring its restraint automatically to an end. Thus it may be believed that the support Russian despotism may get from its once humble354 friend and client will not be stamped by that thoroughness which is supposed to be the mark of German superiority. Russia weakened down to the second place, or Russia eclipsed altogether during the throes of her regeneration, will answer equally well the plans of German policy — which are many and various and often incredible, though the aim of them all is the same: aggrandisement of territory and influence, with no regard to right and justice, either in the East or in the West. For that and no other is the true note of your Welt-Politik which desires to live.
The German eagle with a Prussian head looks all round the horizon, not so much for something to do that would count for good in the records of the earth, as simply for something good to get. He gazes upon the land and upon the sea with the same covetous355 steadiness, for he has become of late a maritime356 eagle, and has learned to box the compass. He gazes north and south, and east and west, and is inclined to look intemperately357 upon the waters of the Mediterranean358 when they are blue. The disappearance of the Russian phantom has given a foreboding of unwonted freedom to the Welt-Politik. According to the national tendency this assumption of Imperial impulses would run into the grotesque were it not for the spikes359 of the Pickelhaubes peeping out grimly from behind. Germany’s attitude proves that no peace for the earth can be found in the expansion of material interests which she seems to have adopted exclusively as her only aim, ideal, and watchword. For the use of those who gaze half-unbelieving at the passing away of the Russian phantom, part Ghoul, part Djinn, part Old Man of the Sea, and wait half-doubting for the birth of a nation’s soul in this age which knows no miracles, the once-famous saying of poor Gambetta, tribune of the people (who was simple and believed in the “immanent justice of things”), may be adapted in the shape of a warning that, so far as a future of liberty, concord, and justice is concerned: “Le Prussianisme — voile l’ennemi!”
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1 insignificance | |
n.不重要;无价值;无意义 | |
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2 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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3 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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4 persistence | |
n.坚持,持续,存留 | |
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5 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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6 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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7 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
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8 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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9 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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10 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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11 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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12 humanitarian | |
n.人道主义者,博爱者,基督凡人论者 | |
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13 stimulus | |
n.刺激,刺激物,促进因素,引起兴奋的事物 | |
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14 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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15 callousness | |
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16 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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17 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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18 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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19 aesthetic | |
adj.美学的,审美的,有美感 | |
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20 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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21 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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22 concord | |
n.和谐;协调 | |
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23 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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24 impervious | |
adj.不能渗透的,不能穿过的,不易伤害的 | |
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25 picturesquely | |
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26 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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27 serried | |
adj.拥挤的;密集的 | |
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28 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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29 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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30 writhing | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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31 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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32 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
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33 tainting | |
v.使变质( taint的现在分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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34 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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35 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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36 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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37 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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38 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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39 anecdote | |
n.轶事,趣闻,短故事 | |
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40 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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41 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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42 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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43 repression | |
n.镇压,抑制,抑压 | |
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44 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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45 consensus | |
n.(意见等的)一致,一致同意,共识 | |
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46 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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47 lurid | |
adj.可怕的;血红的;苍白的 | |
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48 administrative | |
adj.行政的,管理的 | |
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49 glorified | |
美其名的,变荣耀的 | |
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50 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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51 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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52 upheaval | |
n.胀起,(地壳)的隆起;剧变,动乱 | |
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53 descends | |
v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 );下去;下降;下斜 | |
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54 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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55 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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56 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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57 preying | |
v.掠食( prey的现在分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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58 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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59 hatreds | |
n.仇恨,憎恶( hatred的名词复数 );厌恶的事 | |
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60 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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61 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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62 corrupted | |
(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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63 ferment | |
vt.使发酵;n./vt.(使)激动,(使)动乱 | |
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64 dreaded | |
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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65 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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66 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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67 autocracy | |
n.独裁政治,独裁政府 | |
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68 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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69 teeming | |
adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 );到处都是;(指水、雨等)暴降;倾注 | |
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70 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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71 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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72 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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73 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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74 inferno | |
n.火海;地狱般的场所 | |
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75 sanity | |
n.心智健全,神智正常,判断正确 | |
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76 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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77 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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78 tonic | |
n./adj.滋补品,补药,强身的,健体的 | |
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79 innate | |
adj.天生的,固有的,天赋的 | |
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80 arduous | |
adj.艰苦的,费力的,陡峭的 | |
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81 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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82 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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83 artifices | |
n.灵巧( artifice的名词复数 );诡计;巧妙办法;虚伪行为 | |
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84 appeased | |
安抚,抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 ); 绥靖(满足另一国的要求以避免战争) | |
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85 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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86 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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87 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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88 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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89 conflagration | |
n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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90 dwarfed | |
vt.(使)显得矮小(dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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91 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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92 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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93 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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94 platitudes | |
n.平常的话,老生常谈,陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 );滥套子 | |
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95 geographical | |
adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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96 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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97 prehistoric | |
adj.(有记载的)历史以前的,史前的,古老的 | |
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98 rumours | |
n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 );风闻;谣言;谣传 | |
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99 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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100 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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101 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
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102 rite | |
n.典礼,惯例,习俗 | |
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103 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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104 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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105 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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106 decrepit | |
adj.衰老的,破旧的 | |
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107 apparition | |
n.幽灵,神奇的现象 | |
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108 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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109 ravenous | |
adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
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110 arrogance | |
n.傲慢,自大 | |
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111 torpedoes | |
鱼雷( torpedo的名词复数 ); 油井爆破筒; 刺客; 掼炮 | |
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112 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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113 arbiter | |
n.仲裁人,公断人 | |
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114 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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115 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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116 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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117 corpses | |
n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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118 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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119 portent | |
n.预兆;恶兆;怪事 | |
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120 fables | |
n.寓言( fable的名词复数 );神话,传说 | |
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121 misgivings | |
n.疑虑,担忧,害怕;疑虑,担心,恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 );疑惧 | |
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122 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
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123 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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124 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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125 noxious | |
adj.有害的,有毒的;使道德败坏的,讨厌的 | |
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126 exalt | |
v.赞扬,歌颂,晋升,提升 | |
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127 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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128 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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129 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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130 constructive | |
adj.建设的,建设性的 | |
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131 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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132 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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133 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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134 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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135 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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136 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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137 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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138 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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139 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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140 ignoble | |
adj.不光彩的,卑鄙的;可耻的 | |
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141 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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142 repel | |
v.击退,抵制,拒绝,排斥 | |
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143 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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144 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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145 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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146 fanaticism | |
n.狂热,盲信 | |
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147 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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148 disarmed | |
v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 );使息怒 | |
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149 territorial | |
adj.领土的,领地的 | |
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150 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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151 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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152 feats | |
功绩,伟业,技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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153 haughtily | |
adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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154 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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155 envisaged | |
想像,设想( envisage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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156 sage | |
n.圣人,哲人;adj.贤明的,明智的 | |
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157 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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158 beak | |
n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻 | |
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159 penetrated | |
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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160 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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161 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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162 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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163 chancellor | |
n.(英)大臣;法官;(德、奥)总理;大学校长 | |
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164 engraved | |
v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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165 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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166 accomplice | |
n.从犯,帮凶,同谋 | |
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167 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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168 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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169 sensational | |
adj.使人感动的,非常好的,轰动的,耸人听闻的 | |
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170 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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171 connivance | |
n.纵容;默许 | |
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172 amenable | |
adj.经得起检验的;顺从的;对负有义务的 | |
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173 confidential | |
adj.秘(机)密的,表示信任的,担任机密工作的 | |
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174 implicated | |
adj.密切关联的;牵涉其中的 | |
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175 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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176 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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177 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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178 immoral | |
adj.不道德的,淫荡的,荒淫的,有伤风化的 | |
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179 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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180 iniquity | |
n.邪恶;不公正 | |
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181 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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182 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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183 reconciliation | |
n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
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184 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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185 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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186 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
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187 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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188 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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189 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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190 socialists | |
社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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191 immaturity | |
n.不成熟;未充分成长;未成熟;粗糙 | |
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192 lamentable | |
adj.令人惋惜的,悔恨的 | |
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193 initiate | |
vt.开始,创始,发动;启蒙,使入门;引入 | |
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194 monarchical | |
adj. 国王的,帝王的,君主的,拥护君主制的 =monarchic | |
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195 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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196 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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197 inception | |
n.开端,开始,取得学位 | |
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198 solidarity | |
n.团结;休戚相关 | |
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199 agglomerations | |
n.成团,结块(agglomeration的复数形式) | |
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200 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
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201 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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202 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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203 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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204 monarchies | |
n. 君主政体, 君主国, 君主政治 | |
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205 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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206 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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207 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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208 conquerors | |
征服者,占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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209 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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210 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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211 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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212 follies | |
罪恶,时事讽刺剧; 愚蠢,蠢笨,愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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213 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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214 inhuman | |
adj.残忍的,不人道的,无人性的 | |
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215 autocrat | |
n.独裁者;专横的人 | |
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216 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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217 parody | |
n.打油诗文,诙谐的改编诗文,拙劣的模仿;v.拙劣模仿,作模仿诗文 | |
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218 riddles | |
n.谜(语)( riddle的名词复数 );猜不透的难题,难解之谜 | |
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219 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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220 arrogating | |
v.冒称,妄取( arrogate的现在分词 );没来由地把…归属(于) | |
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221 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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222 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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223 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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224 scourge | |
n.灾难,祸害;v.蹂躏 | |
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225 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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226 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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227 mangled | |
vt.乱砍(mangle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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228 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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229 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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230 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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231 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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232 extirpation | |
n.消灭,根除,毁灭;摘除 | |
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233 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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234 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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235 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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236 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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237 pithy | |
adj.(讲话或文章)简练的 | |
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238 erred | |
犯错误,做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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239 complimentary | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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240 infinity | |
n.无限,无穷,大量 | |
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241 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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242 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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243 redeeming | |
补偿的,弥补的 | |
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244 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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245 degenerate | |
v.退步,堕落;adj.退步的,堕落的;n.堕落者 | |
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246 consolidating | |
v.(使)巩固, (使)加强( consolidate的现在分词 );(使)合并 | |
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247 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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248 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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249 horde | |
n.群众,一大群 | |
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250 expediency | |
n.适宜;方便;合算;利己 | |
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251 colossal | |
adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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252 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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253 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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254 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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255 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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256 protean | |
adj.反复无常的;变化自如的 | |
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257 trampling | |
踩( trample的现在分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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258 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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259 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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260 dungeon | |
n.地牢,土牢 | |
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261 disconsolately | |
adv.悲伤地,愁闷地;哭丧着脸 | |
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262 subsiding | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的现在分词 );减弱;下降至较低或正常水平;一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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263 glamour | |
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住 | |
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264 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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265 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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266 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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267 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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268 cohesive | |
adj.有粘着力的;有结合力的;凝聚性的 | |
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269 wanes | |
v.衰落( wane的第三人称单数 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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270 mightiest | |
adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 );巨大的;强有力的;浩瀚的 | |
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271 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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272 aberration | |
n.离开正路,脱离常规,色差 | |
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273 dependant | |
n.依靠的,依赖的,依赖他人生活者 | |
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274 bullying | |
v.恐吓,威逼( bully的现在分词 );豪;跋扈 | |
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275 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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276 voracious | |
adj.狼吞虎咽的,贪婪的 | |
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277 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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278 severed | |
v.切断,断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 );断,裂 | |
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279 eloquently | |
adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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280 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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281 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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282 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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283 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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284 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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285 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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286 monarchs | |
君主,帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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287 derided | |
v.取笑,嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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288 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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289 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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290 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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291 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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292 prattle | |
n.闲谈;v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话;发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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293 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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294 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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295 malice | |
n.恶意,怨恨,蓄意;[律]预谋 | |
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296 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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297 industrious | |
adj.勤劳的,刻苦的,奋发的 | |
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298 sanguine | |
adj.充满希望的,乐观的,血红色的 | |
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299 humanitarians | |
n.慈善家( humanitarian的名词复数 ) | |
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300 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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301 crammed | |
adj.塞满的,挤满的;大口地吃;快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满;填入;临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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302 variegated | |
adj.斑驳的,杂色的 | |
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303 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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304 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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305 pittance | |
n.微薄的薪水,少量 | |
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306 prematurely | |
adv.过早地,贸然地 | |
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307 expedient | |
adj.有用的,有利的;n.紧急的办法,权宜之计 | |
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308 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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309 beleaguered | |
adj.受到围困[围攻]的;包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词);困扰;骚扰 | |
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310 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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311 perishable | |
adj.(尤指食物)易腐的,易坏的 | |
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312 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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313 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
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314 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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315 erased | |
v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 );抹去;清除 | |
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316 supplication | |
n.恳求,祈愿,哀求 | |
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317 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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318 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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319 execration | |
n.诅咒,念咒,憎恶 | |
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320 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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321 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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322 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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323 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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324 agitating | |
搅动( agitate的现在分词 ); 激怒; 使焦虑不安; (尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而)激烈争论 | |
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325 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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326 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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327 invoked | |
v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 );行使(权利等);祈求救助;恳求 | |
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328 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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329 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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330 doles | |
救济物( dole的名词复数 ); 失业救济金 | |
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331 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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332 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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333 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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334 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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335 martial | |
adj.战争的,军事的,尚武的,威武的 | |
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336 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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337 regenerating | |
v.新生,再生( regenerate的现在分词 );正反馈 | |
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338 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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339 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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340 appallingly | |
毛骨悚然地 | |
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341 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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342 resentments | |
(因受虐待而)愤恨,不满,怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
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343 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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344 eventual | |
adj.最后的,结局的,最终的 | |
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345 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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346 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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347 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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348 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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349 surmises | |
v.臆测,推断( surmise的第三人称单数 );揣测;猜想 | |
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350 discredited | |
不足信的,不名誉的 | |
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351 tottering | |
adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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352 preponderating | |
v.超过,胜过( preponderate的现在分词 ) | |
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353 merges | |
(使)混合( merge的第三人称单数 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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354 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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355 covetous | |
adj.贪婪的,贪心的 | |
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356 maritime | |
adj.海的,海事的,航海的,近海的,沿海的 | |
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357 intemperately | |
adv.过度地,无节制地,放纵地 | |
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358 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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359 spikes | |
n.穗( spike的名词复数 );跑鞋;(防滑)鞋钉;尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 );偷偷地给某人的饮料加入(更多)酒精( 或药物);把尖状物钉入;打乱某人的计划 | |
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