The country made me familiar with agriculture, the flour-mill, and the American sheafbinding machine. It brought me into close contact with peasants, the ones who lived near by and came to the flour-mill, and those far-away ones from the Ukrainian districts, who came with a scythe2 and a bag behind their backs. Much of my country life vanished from my memory or was shoved into the subconscious3, but at every new turn some small part of it would emerge, often to help me greatly. The country brought me face to face with the various types of decadence4 in the gentry5, and the types of capitalist aggrandizement6. It revealed to me the natural coarseness of many aspects of human relationships, and intensified7 my feeling for that other urban type of culture, at once more advanced and more contradictory8.
It was on my very first vacation that the contrast between town and country impressed itself on my mind. On my journey home I was all impatience9. My heart was beating with joy. I longed to see everything again, and to be seen. At Novy-Bug I was met by my father. I showed him my school report, proudly displaying my high marks, and explained that now I was in the first grade and therefore I had to have a full-dress uniform. We were driving by night, in a covered wagon10, with a young mill assistant in the place of the coachman. On the steppe, particularly in the dells, one felt a slight draft of cold, misty11 air, which made my father wrap me in a huge Cossack cloak. I was intoxicated12 with the change of environment, with the drive, the recollections, the new impressions, and was very talkative, running on about the school, the public baths, my friend Kostya R., the theatre, and so on. I gave full descriptions first of the Nazar Stodolya, and then of The Tenant13 with a Trombone. My father, sometimes awake, sometimes asleep, listened to me, and laughed quite a bit. The young as sistant shook his head from time to time, and turning to my father said: “What a story!”
Toward morning I fell asleep, and woke up at Yanovka. Our house looked terribly small to me now; the home-made wheat bread seemed gray, and the whole routine of country life seemed at once familiar and strange. I described the theatre to my mother and sisters, but not nearly so fervently14 as I had to my father. In the workshop I found Victor and David so changed I could scarcely recognize them they had grown bigger and stronger. But they thought me different, too. From the first they began to address me with the more respectful “vy” (you), at which I protested. “Well, what else can I call you?” retorted David. “You are now a learned man.” During my absence Ivan Vasilyevich had married. The servants’ kitchen had been rebuilt and served him as a house, while a new hut behind the machine-shop had been made over into a kitchen.
These were not the most important things, however. Some thing new had grown up like a wall between myself and the things bound up with my childhood. Everything seemed the same and yet quite different. Objects and people looked like counterfeits15 of themselves. Of course, certain things had changed during the year. But others seemed changed largely because I saw them with different eyes. After my first return home, I began to grow away from my family. At first the breach16 revealed itself in trivialities, but as the years went on it became more and more serious and far-reaching.
The conflicting influences of town and country colored the entire period of my school life. In the town my relations with other people were, I felt, more constant. With the exception of a few conflicts, however violent, such as those with the teachers of French and Russian, I got along peacefully under the school and family discipline. This should be attributed not only to the mode of life in the Schpentzer household, in which sensible strictness and comparatively high standards in personal relations were the rule, but also to the whole system of life in the city. To be sure, its contradictions were no less marked than those of country life in fact they were greater but in town they were more disguised, controlled, and regulated. People of different classes in town came into contact with one another only in their business relations; outside of these they did not exist for one another. In the country every body lived in open view of everybody else. The relationship between a master and a servant stood out there like a spring in an old couch. My own behavior in the country was more unbalanced and quarrelsome. There were several occasions when I quarrelled even with Fanny Solomonovna, who, on her visits to Yanovka, sometimes cautiously sided with my mother or sisters; and yet in town my relations with her were not only friendly but even affectionate. These clashes sometimes sprang up out of mere17 trifles. On other occasions, however, some thing much more important was at their source.
In a freshly laundered18 duck suit, with a leather belt that had a brass19 buckle20, and a white cap with a glittering yellow badge, I felt that I was simply magnificent. And I had to show everybody. Together with my father, I drove into the field on a day when the harvesting of winter wheat was at its peak. The head mower21 Arkhip, looking at once sullen23 and kindly24, was leading the way over the hill, followed by eleven mowers and twelve women binders26. Twelve scythes27 were cutting the wheat and the sultry air as well. Arkhip’s feet were wrapped in pieces of cloth tightened28 by a button. The women binders wore torn skirts, or simply shirts of unbleached cotton. From a distance the sound of the mowing-scythes was as if the hot air itself were ringing.
“Well, well, let’s see what this winter wheat is like,” said Father, taking Arkhip’s scythe and stepping into his place. I watched him excitedly. Father made simple, homely30 movements, as if he were not actually working but only getting ready to begin, and his steps were light and tentative as if he were looking for a place to get a better swing. His scythe was also moving simply, without any swagger about it, and even or so it seemed not quite firmly. And yet it was cutting very low and very evenly, with each swift shave laying the ears in a straight belt running along on his left. Arkhip looked on with one eye, clearly approving Father’s skill. The attitude of the others varied31. Some seemed to be sympathetic, as if they thought the old fellow were no mere novice32, while others were indifferent, as if feeling that it was no great achievement to mow22 what was one’s own, and in order to show off, at that. Probably I did not translate their thoughts into exact words, but I had an intense realization33 of the complicated mechanics of their relations.
After Father had left for another field, I also made an attempt to wield34 the scythe. “Strike the hay on your heel, boy, on your heel; keep your toes free, don’t press.” But in my excitement I couldn’t quite see where that heel of mine actually was, and on the third swing of the scythe my toes dug right into the earth. “That will soon finish the scythe, if you go on like this,” said Arkhip. “You’d better learn from your father.” A woman binder25, dark-faced and covered with dust, gave me a sneering35 look. I stepped out of the ranks with decided36 haste, still in my badge-adorned cap, from under which sweat was coming down in streams. “Go and eat cakes with your mother,” came mockingly from behind. It was Mutuzka. I knew that mower, with a skin as dark as his boots. This was his third year at Yanovka. He lived in the village, had his wits about him, was sharp with his tongue, and on occasion in the preceding year, in my hearing and for my special benefit, had spoken nasty but very apt words about his masters. His smartness and daring appealed to my imagination, but his unbridled and shameless scoffing38 made me boil with impotent hatred39. I should have liked to say something to him that would win him over to my side, or, on the contrary, to pull him up with a sharp word of command, but I did not know what to say.
As I returned home from the field I saw a barefooted woman at our door-step. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, having apparently40 not courage enough to sit on the stone step. She was the mother of a half-witted shepherd boy, Ignatka, and she had walked seven versts to our house to get one rouble that was owed her. But there was no one in the house, and she could not get her rouble; so she had to wait until evening. It made my heart tighten29 to look at that figure the embodiment of poverty and submission41.
It was no better next year; in fact, it was worse. I was returning home after a game of croquet when I met my father in the courtyard. He had just arrived from the fields, all cov ered with dust, worn out and in a bad humor. A peasant, a piebald little man, was stumping42 behind him on bare, black-heeled feet. “For the Lord’s sake, please let me have my cow,” he kept saying, swearing that he would do everything to keep it away from the fields. Father answered: “Your cow may eat only ten kopecks’ worth of grain, but it will do ten roubles’ worth of damage.” The peasant kept on beseeching43, and in his pleas one could feel his hatred. The scene stirred me to my very marrow44. The genial45 mood I had carried away from the croquet court with its fringe of pear-trees, where I had routed my sisters with flying colors, instantly gave way to a feeling of intense despair. I slipped past my father into my bedroom, and falling flat on the bed, gave myself up to tears, despite my status of a boy of the second grade. Father walked through the hall into the dining-room, with the little peasant pattering behind him up to the door-step. I could hear their voices. Then the peasant left. Mother came from the mill I could recognize her voice at once; the sound of plates being prepared for dinner came through, and I heard Mother calling me.
But I did not answer, and went on weeping. Tears were beginning to yield a sense of blissful pleasure. Then the door opened, and Mother bent46 over me.
“What’s the matter, Lyovochka?”
I made no answer. Mother and Father whispered something to one another.
“Are you upset about that peasant? But we gave him back his cow, and we did not fine him.”
“I am not upset about that at all,” I answered from under the pillow, painfully ashamed of the cause of my tears.
“And we didn’t fine him,” Mother said again, with emphasis.
It was Father who had guessed the cause of my sorrow and told Mother. Father noticed much in passing, with one quick glance.
One day when Father was away, a police sergeant47, a rude, greedy, and arrogant48 creature, came down and demanded the workers’ passports. He found two overdue49. Immediately he called their owners from the field and declared them under arrest, for conveyance50 to their homes as prisoners. One of them was an old man whose brown neck was shrivelled into deep folds; the other was his young nephew. They dropped to their parched51 knees on the earthen floor of the hall, first the old man, then the younger one, and bowed their heads to the ground. They kept saying: “Do be merciful don’t ruin us, sir!” The fat and sweating sergeant played with his sword, drank cold milk that had been brought to him from the cellar, and answered: “I give mercy only on feast-days, and this is a week day.” I felt as if I were sitting on fire, and in a broken voice let fall some words of protest. “You’d better mind your own business, young man,” the sergeant remarked with stern deliberation, while my elder sister waved her finger at me warningly. The sergeant left with the two laborers52.
During my vacation I attended to the bookkeeping, that is, I took turn about with my elder brother and sister, entering in the books the names of laborers employed, the terms of employment, and payments made, whether in kind or in cash. I often assisted my father when wages were paid out, and on those occasions there were sudden, brief flashes of temper between us, which remained suppressed only because of the presence of the laborers. There was never any cheating in the making up of the accounts, but the terms of employment were always interpreted harshly. The laborers, particularly the older ones, sensed that the boy was on their side, and this annoyed Father.
After our clashes, I would go out with a book and would stay away even through dinner. On one such occasion, I was caught in a storm in the fields. There was a continuous cracking of thunder, the steppe rain was gurgling in rivulets53, and lightning kept flashing from all sides as if trying to get at me. I went on pacing up and down, all soaked through, in shoes that yelped54 like dogs, and in a cap that looked like a waterspout. When I returned home I was greeted with side long glances and silence. Sister gave me a change of dry clothes and something to eat.
Returning to town after the vacations, I was usually accompanied by my father. As a rule we did not take a porter but carried our luggage ourselves. Father carried the heavier bags, and by his back and distended55 arms I could see that he was straining himself. I felt sorry for him and tried to carry as much as I could. But when we happened to have with us a heavy box full of gifts from home for the relatives in Odessa, we hired a porter. Father was stingy with his tips, the porter was dissatisfied, and shook his head angrily. I always felt very pained about this. When I travelled alone and had to resort to porters, I spent my pocket-money in no time, looking anxiously into the porter’s eyes, and always afraid to give too little. This was a reaction against the closeness at home, and it has persisted throughout my life.
In the country as well as in the town, I lived in a petty-bourgeois environment where the principal effort was directed toward acquisition. In this respect, I cut myself off both from the country of my early childhood and from the town of my youth. The instinct of acquisition, the petty-bourgeois outlook and habits of life from these I sailed away with a mighty56 push, and I did so never to return.
In the spheres of religion and nationality, there was no opposition57 between the country and the town; on the contrary, they complemented58 one another in various respects. In my father’s family there was no strict observance of religion. At first, appearances were kept up through sheer inertia59: on holy days my parents journeyed to the synagogue in the colony; Mother abstained60 from sewing on Saturdays, at least within the sight of others. But all this ceremonial observance of religion lessened61 as years went on as the children grew up and the prosperity of the family increased. Father did not believe in God from his youth, and in later years spoke37 openly about it in front of Mother and the children. Mother preferred to avoid the subject, but when occasion required would raise her eyes in prayer.
When I was about seven or eight years old, belief in God was still regarded in the family as something officially recognized. On one occasion a visiting guest before whom my parents, as was their wont62, were boasting about their son, making me show my sketches63 and recite poetry, asked me the question:
“What do you know of God?”
“God is a sort of man,” I answered without hesitation64.
But the guest shook his head: “No, God is not a man.”
“What is God?” I asked him in my turn, for besides man I knew only animals and plants. The guest, my father, and my mother exchanged glances with an embarrassed smile, as always happens among grown-ups when children begin to shake the most firmly established conventions.
“God is spirit,” said the guest. Now it was I who looked with a smile of confusion at my seniors, trying to read in their faces whether they were serious or joking. But no, it was not a joke. I bowed my head before their knowledge. Soon I got used to the idea that God was spirit. As became a little savage65, I connected God with my own “spirit,” calling it “soul,” and already knowing that “soul,” that is, “breath,” ends when death comes. 1 I did not yet know, however, that this doctrine66 bore the name of “animism.”
On my first vacation at home, when I was getting ready to go to sleep on the sofa in the dining-room, I got into a discussion about God with the student Z., who was a visiting guest at Yanovka and slept on the divan67. At that time I was not quite sure whether God did exist or not, and did not worry much about it, though I did not mind finding a definite answer.
“Where does the soul go after death?” I asked Z., bending over the pillow.
“Where does it go when a man is asleep?” came the answer.
“Well, it is then still . . . ” I argued, trying to keep awake.
“And where does the soul of the horse go when he drops dead?” Z. persisted in his attack.
This answer satisfied me completely, and I fell into a contented68 sleep.
In the Schpentzer family, religion was not observed at all, not counting the old aunt, who did not matter. My father, however, wanted me to know the Bible in the original, this being one of the marks of his parental69 vanity, and therefore I took private lessons in the Bible from a very learned old man in Odessa. My studies lasted only a few months and did little to confirm me in the ancestral faith. A suggestion of a double meaning in the words of my teacher, concerning some text in the Bible which we were studying, prompted me to ask a question which I worded very cautiously and diplomatically: “If we accept, as some do, that God does not exist, how did the world come to be?”
“Hm,” muttered the teacher, “but you can turn this question against him as well.” In this ingenious way did the old man express himself. I realized that the instructor70 in religion did not believe in God, and this set my mind completely at rest.
The racial and religious composition of my realschule was very heterogeneous71. Religion was taught respectively by a Russian orthodox priest, a Protestant parson, a Catholic priest, and a Jewish instructor. The Russian priest, a nephew of the archbishop, with the reputation of being a favorite with ladies, was a young and strikingly good-looking man, resembling the portraits of Christ — only of the drawing-room type; he had gold spectacles and abundant golden hair, and was, in brief, impossibly handsome. Before the lesson in religion was to begin, boys of different persuasions72 would divide into separate groups, and those not of the orthodox Russian faith would leave the classroom, sometimes under the very nose of the Russian priest. On such occasions he put on a special expression, in which contempt was only slightly softened73 by true Christian74 forbearance, as he watched the boys walk out.
“Where are you going?” he would ask some boy.
“We are Catholics,” came the answer.
“Oh, Catholics!” he repeated, nodding his head, “I see, I see . . . And you?”
“We are Jews.”
“Oh, Jews, I see, Jews! Just so, just so!”
The Catholic priest came like a black shadow, always appearing right against the wall and disappearing so inconspicuously that throughout all my years there I could never get a look at his shaven face. A good-natured man by the name of Ziegelman instructed the Jewish boys in the Bible and the history of the Jewish people. These lessons, conducted in Russian, were never taken seriously by the boys.
In my mental equipment, nationality never occupied an in dependent place, as it was felt but little in everyday life. It is true that after the laws of 1881, which restricted the rights of Jews in Russia, my father was unable to buy more land, as he was so anxious to do, but could only lease it under cover. This, however, scarcely affected76 my own position. As son of a prosperous landowner, I belonged to the privileged class rather than to the oppressed. The language in my family and household was Russian-Ukrainian. True enough, the number of Jewish boys allowed to join the schools was limited to a fixed77 percentage, on account of which I lost one year. But in the school I was always at the top of the grade and was not personally affected by the restrictions78.
In my school there was no open baiting of nationalities. To some extent the variety of national elements, not only among the boys but among the masters as well, acted as an important check on such policies. One could sense, however, the existence of a suppressed chauvinism which now and again broke through to the surface. The teacher of history, Lyubimov, showed marked partisanship79 when questioning a Polish boy about the Catholic persecution80 of orthodox Russians in White Russia and Lithuania. Mizkevic, a lanky81, dark-skinned boy, turned green and stood with his teeth set, without uttering a word. “Well, why don’t you speak?” Lyubimov encouraged him, with an expression of sadistic82 pleasure. One of the boys burst out: “Mizkevic is a Pole and a Catholic.” Feigning83 surprise, Lyubimov drawled: “Is that so? We don’t differentiate84 between nationalities here.”
It hurt me quite as much to see the concealed85 cad in Lyubimov’s attitude toward Poles, as to see the spiteful captiousness86 of Burnande with Germans, or the Russian priest’s nodding of his head at the sight of Jews. This national inequality probably was one of the underlying88 causes of my dissatisfaction with the existing order, but it was lost among all the other phases of social injustice89. It never played a leading part not even a recognized one in the lists of my grievances90.
The feeling of the supremacy91 of general over particular, of law over fact, of theory over personal experience, took root in my mind at an early age and gained increasing strength as the years advanced. It was the town that played the major r?le in shaping this feeling, a feeling which later became the basis for a philosophic92 outlook on life. When I heard boys who were studying physics and natural history repeat the superstitious93 notions about “unlucky” Monday, or about meeting a priest crossing the road, I was utterly94 indignant. I felt that my intelligence had been insulted, and I was on the verge95 of doing any mad thing to make them abandon their shameless superstitions96.
While the Yanovka people were spending many weary hours trying to measure the area of a field which had the shape of a trapezoid, I would apply Euclid and get my answer in a couple of minutes. But my computation did not tally97 with the one obtained by “practical” methods, and they refused to believe it. I would bring out my geometry text-book and swear in the name of science; I would get all excited and use harsh words and all to no purpose. People refused to see the light of reason, and this drove me to despair.
I engaged in a frantic98 argument with our village mechanic, Ivan Vasilyevich, who persisted in his belief that he could build a perpetual-motion machine.
The law of the conservation of energy seemed to him merely a fanciful idea which had nothing to do with his problem. “That is all book, and this is practice,” he would say. My mind refused to understand or reconcile itself to the fact that men could reject incontrovertible truths in order to accept errors and absurd fancies.
Later, the feeling of the supremacy of the general over the particular became an integral part of my literary and political work. The dull empiricism, the unashamed, cringing99 worship of the fact which is so often only imaginary, and falsely interpreted at that, were odious100 to me. Beyond the facts, I looked for laws. Naturally, this led me more than once into hasty and incorrect generalizations101, especially in my younger years when my knowledge, book-acquired, and my experience in life were still inadequate102. But in every sphere, barring none, I felt that I could move and act only when I held in my hand the thread of the general. The social-revolutionary radicalism103 which has become the permanent pivot104 for my whole inner life grew out of this intellectual enmity toward the striving for petty ends, toward out-and-out pragmatism, and toward all that is ideologically105 without form and theoretically ungeneralized.
I will try to look back, in retrospect106, at myself. The boy no doubt was ambitious, quick-tempered, and probably a hard person to get along with. I do not think that he had a feeling of superiority over his schoolmates when he entered the school.
Of course in the country they showed him off proudly to the guests; but then there was no one else to compare him with, and the town boys who came to Yanovka always had the superior advantage of being “gymnasists”; they were older, as well, so that they could be seen only from below. The school, however, is a place where rivalry107 is bitter. From the moment that he found himself at the top of his grade, and quite a distance be yond the boy next behind him, the little visitor from Yanovka felt that he could do better than the others. The boys who became his friends acknowledged his leadership. This could not fail to have some effect on his character. The masters also approved of him, and some, like Krizhanovsky, even singled him out for special attention. On the whole, however, the masters treated him well but without any special interest. The boys were divided: there were good friends among them, there were also enemies.
The boy was not lacking in self-criticism. In this he was inclined to be a little too captious87. He was dissatisfied with his intellectual equipment and with some of his peculiarities108 of character. With time this became even more aggravated109. Fiercely, he would catch himself in the act of telling a lie; or he would taunt110 himself because he had not read all the books that the others mentioned so casually111. It is obvious that this was very close to vanity. The thought that he must become better and more intelligent than the rest and acquire a wide knowledge of books, weighed constantly on his mind. He thought about the purpose of Man, and of his own purpose.
One evening, Moissey Filippovich, passing by, stopped and asked me, with feigned112 solemnity: “What do you think of life, old man?” He often resorted to this mock rhetorical manner that was both pompous113 and ironic114. But this time, I felt as if I were touched to the quick. Yes, I was indeed thinking of life, only I did not know enough to apply this name to my boyish fears for the future. My mentor115 must have overheard my thoughts. “I seem to have touched the sore spot,” he said, changing his tone. Then he slapped me gently on the shoulder, and went to his room.
Did the Schpentzer family have any political views? Those of Moissey Filippovich were moderately liberal, in a humanitarian116 way. They were lightly touched by vague socialist117 sympathies, tinged118 with Populist and Tolstoyan ideas. Political subjects were never openly discussed, especially in my presence; probably that was because they were afraid that I might say something censurable119 at school, and get myself in trouble. And when casual reference to what was going on or had taken place within the revolutionary movement was made in the grown-ups’ conversation, such as, for example, “This was in the year of the assassination120 of Czar Alexander II,” it had the ring of a past as far removed as if they had said, “This was in the year Columbus discovered America.” The people who surrounded me were outside of politics.
During my school years I held no political views, nor for that matter had I any desire to acquire them. At the same time my subconscious strivings were tinged by a spirit of opposition. I had an intense hatred of the existing order, of injustice, of tyranny. Whence did it come? It came from the conditions existing during the reign121 of Alexander III; the high-handedness of the police; the exploitation practised by landlords; the grafting122 by officials; the nationalistic restrictions; the cases of injustice at school and in the street; the close contact with children, servants and laborers in the country; the conversations in the workshop; the humane123 spirit in the Schpentzer family; the reading of Nekrassov’s poems and of all kinds of other books, and, in general, the entire social atmosphere of the time. This oppositional124 mood was revealed to me cuttingly in my contact with two classmates, Rodzevich and Kologrivov.
Vladimir Rodzevich was the son of a colonel, and was for a time the second highest in our grade. He persuaded his parents to allow him to invite me to their house on a Sunday. I was received with a certain dryness, but courteously125. The colonel and his wife spoke to me very little and as if they were scrutinizing126 me. During the three or four hours which I spent with the family I stumbled several times upon something that was strange and disconcerting to me, and even inimical; it happened when the conversation casually touched on the subject of religion and the authorities. There was a tone of conservative piety127 about that house that I felt like a blow on the chest. Vladimir’s parents did not let him visit me in my home, and the link between us was broken. After the first revolution in Odessa, the name of Rodzevich, a member of the Black-Hundred, probably one of the members of this family, was fairly well known.
The case of Kologrivov was even more poignant128. He entered the school in the second grade, after Christmas, and was conspicuous75 among the boys as a tall and awkward stranger. He was gifted with incredible industry; he learned things by heart, anything and everything, whenever he could. By the end of the first month his mind was completely groggy129 from incessant130 memorizing. When he was called on by the geography teacher to recite the map lesson, without even waiting for the question he started right in: “Jesus Christ left his command to the world . . . ” It is necessary only to mention that the following hour was to be a lesson in religion.
In conversation with this Kologrivov, who treated me, as the first in the grade, not without respect, I made some critical remarks about the principal and somebody else. “How can you speak of the principal in this way?” asked Kologrivov, sincerely indignant. “And why not?” I answered, with a surprise that was even more sincere. “But he is our chief. If the chief orders you to walk on your head, it is your duty to do as you are told, and not criticise131 him.” He said it in just that way. I was astonished by this expression of a formula. It did not occur to me then that the boy was obviously repeating what he must have heard in his feudal132 home. And although I had no views of my own, I felt that it would be as impossible for me to accept certain views as to eat wormy food.
Along with the suppressed hostility133 to the political order in Russia, I began to create, in my imagination, an idealized picture of the foreign world — of Western Europe and America. From scattered134 remarks and descriptions, I began to visualize135 a culture which was high in itself and included everybody with out exception. Later this became part and parcel of my conception of ideal democracy. Rationalism implied that if any thing was accepted as theory, it was of course carried out in practice. For this reason it seemed incredible that people in Europe could have superstitions, that the church could exercise a great influence there, that in America the whites could persecute136 the negroes. This idealized picture of the Western world, imperceptibly absorbed from my environment of liberal smug citizenship137, persisted later on when I was already formulating138 revolutionary views. I should probably have been greatly surprised in those years if I had heard if it had been possible to hear it that the German Republic which is crowned with a Social-Democratic government admits monarchists within its borders but refuses the right of asylum139 to revolutionaries. Fortunately, since that time many things have ceased to surprise me. Life has beaten rationalism out of me and has taught me the workings of dialectics. Even Hermann Müller can no longer surprise me.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
paramount
|
|
| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
scythe
|
|
| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
subconscious
|
|
| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
decadence
|
|
| n.衰落，颓废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
aggrandizement
|
|
| n.增大，强化，扩大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
intensified
|
|
| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
contradictory
|
|
| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fervently
|
|
| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
counterfeits
|
|
| v.仿制，造假( counterfeit的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
laundered
|
|
| v.洗（衣服等），洗烫（衣服等）( launder的过去式和过去分词 )；洗（黑钱）（把非法收入改头换面，变为貌似合法的收入） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
buckle
|
|
| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
mower
|
|
| n.割草机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
mow
|
|
| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
binder
|
|
| n.包扎物，包扎工具；[法]临时契约；粘合剂；装订工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
binders
|
|
| n.（司机行话）刹车器；（书籍的）装订机( binder的名词复数 )；（购买不动产时包括预付订金在内的）保证书；割捆机；活页封面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
scythes
|
|
| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
tighten
|
|
| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
novice
|
|
| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
wield
|
|
| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sneering
|
|
| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
scoffing
|
|
| n. 嘲笑, 笑柄, 愚弄 v. 嘲笑, 嘲弄, 愚弄, 狼吞虎咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
submission
|
|
| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
stumping
|
|
| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的现在分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
marrow
|
|
| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sergeant
|
|
| n.警官，中士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
arrogant
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
overdue
|
|
| adj.过期的，到期未付的；早该有的，迟到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
conveyance
|
|
| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
laborers
|
|
| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
rivulets
|
|
| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
yelped
|
|
| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
distended
|
|
| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
complemented
|
|
| 有补助物的，有余格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
inertia
|
|
| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
lessened
|
|
| 减少的，减弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
divan
|
|
| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
parental
|
|
| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
instructor
|
|
| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
heterogeneous
|
|
| adj.庞杂的；异类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
persuasions
|
|
| n.劝说，说服（力）( persuasion的名词复数 )；信仰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
restrictions
|
|
| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
Partisanship
|
|
| n. 党派性, 党派偏见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
lanky
|
|
| adj.瘦长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
sadistic
|
|
| adj.虐待狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
feigning
|
|
| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
differentiate
|
|
| vi.(between)区分；vt.区别；使不同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
captiousness
|
|
| 吹毛求疵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
87
captious
|
|
| adj.难讨好的，吹毛求疵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
underlying
|
|
| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
supremacy
|
|
| n.至上；至高权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
philosophic
|
|
| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
superstitions
|
|
| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
tally
|
|
| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
cringing
|
|
| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
generalizations
|
|
| 一般化( generalization的名词复数 )； 普通化； 归纳； 概论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
radicalism
|
|
| n. 急进主义, 根本的改革主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
pivot
|
|
| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
ideologically
|
|
| adv. 意识形态上地，思想上地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
retrospect
|
|
| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
rivalry
|
|
| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
aggravated
|
|
| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
taunt
|
|
| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
feigned
|
|
| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
ironic
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
mentor
|
|
| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
socialist
|
|
| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
censurable
|
|
| adj.可非难的，该责备的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
120
assassination
|
|
| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
grafting
|
|
| 嫁接法，移植法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
humane
|
|
| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
oppositional
|
|
| 反对的，对抗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
courteously
|
|
| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
scrutinizing
|
|
| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
poignant
|
|
| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
groggy
|
|
| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
criticise
|
|
| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
visualize
|
|
| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
persecute
|
|
| vt.迫害，虐待；纠缠，骚扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
citizenship
|
|
| n.市民权，公民权，国民的义务(身份) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
formulating
|
|
| v.构想出( formulate的现在分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |