In September, I formally renounced5 my membership in the minority; I had ceased being an active member in April of that year. During that period I spent a few months away from Russian émigré circles, in Munich, which was then considered the most democratic and most artistic6 city in Germany. I came to know the Bavarian Social Democracy quite well, as well as the galleries of Munich and the cartoonists of Simplicissimus.
Even at the time of the party congress, the entire southern part of Russia was in the throes of a great strike. Peasant disturbances7 grew more and more frequent. The universities were seething8. For a little while, the Russo-Japanese war stopped the movement, but the military debacle of Czarism promptly9 provided a formidable lever for revolution. The press was becoming more daring, the terrorist acts more frequent; the liberals began to wake up and launched a campaign of political banquets. The fundamental questions of revolution came swiftly to the front Abstractions were beginning in my eyes to acquire actual social flesh. The Mensheviks, Zasulitch especially, were placing great hopes in the liberals.
Even before the congress, after one of the editorial meetings in the café Landolt, Zasulitch began to complain, in the peculiar10, timidly insistent11 tone which she always assumed for such occasions, that we were attacking the liberals too much. That was a sore point with her.
“See how eager they are about it,” she would say, looking past Lenin, though it was really Lenin whom she was aiming at. “Struve demands that the Russian liberals should not renounce4 Socialism, because if they do they will be threatened with the fate of the German liberals; he says they should follow the example of the French Radical12 Socialists13.”
“We should strike them all the more,” said Lenin with a gay smile, as if he were teasing Vera Ivanovna.
“That’s nice!” she exclaimed in utter despair. “They come to meet us and we strike them down.”
I was with Lenin unreservedly in this discussion, which became more crucial the deeper it went. In 1904, during the liberal banquet campaign, which quickly reached an impasse15, I put forward the question, “What next?” and answered it in this way: the way out can be opened only by means of a general strike, followed by an uprising of the proletariat which will march at the head of the masses against liberalism. This aggravated16 my disagreements with the Mensheviks.
On the morning of January 23, 1905, I returned to Geneva from a lecture tour, exhausted17 after a sleepless18 night on the train. A newsboy sold me a paper of the day before. It referred in the future tense to the march of the workers to the Winter Palace. I decided19 that it had failed to take place. An hour or so later I called at the Iskra office. Martov was all excitement.
“So it did not come off?”
“What do you mean, did not come off?” he pounced20 on me. “We spent the whole night in a café reading fresh cables. Haven’t you heard anything? Here it is, here, here . . . ” and he pushed the paper into my hands. I ran through the first ten lines of the telegraphed report of the bloody21 Sunday. 1 A dull, burning sensation seemed to overpower me — I could not stay abroad any longer. My connections with the Bolsheviks had ended with the congress. I broke away from the Mensheviks; I had to act at my own risk. Through a student I got a new passport, and with my wife 2, who had come abroad again in the autumn of 1904 I took the train to Munich. Parvus put us up in his own house. There he read my manuscript dealing22 with the events of the 22nd of January, and was much excited by it. “The events have fully23 confirmed this analysis. Now, no one can deny that the general strike is the most important means of fighting. The 22nd of January was the first political strike, even if it was disguised under a priest’s cloak. One need add only that revolution in Russia may place a democratic workers’ government in power.” It was after this fashion that Parvus wrote a preface to my pamphlet.
Parvus was unquestionably one of the most important of the Marxists at the turn of the century. He used the Marxian methods skilfully24, was possessed25 of wide vision, and kept a keen eye on everything of importance in world events. This, coupled with his fearless thinking and his virile26, muscular style, made him a remarkable27 writer. His early studies brought me closer to the problems of the Social Revolution, and, for me, definitely transformed the conquest of power by the proletariat from an astronomical28 “final” goal to a practical task for our own day.
And yet there was always something mad and unreliable about Parvus. In addition to all his other ambitions, this revolutionary was torn by an amazing desire to get rich. Even this he connected, in those years at least, with his social-revolutionary ideas. “The party apparatus29 has become petrified,” he would complain. “It is hard to get anything into even Bebel’s head. What we revolutionary Marxists need is a great daily newspaper published in three European languages. But for this we must have money, and lots of it.” Thus were thoughts of the revolution and of wealth intermingled in the heavy, fleshy head of this bulldog. He made an attempt to set up a publishing house of his own in Munich, but it ended rather badly for him. Then he went to Russia and took part in the revolution of 1905. In spite of his originality30 and ingenuity31 of thought, he failed utterly32 as a leader. After the defeat of the revolution of 1905, he went into a decline. From Germany he moved to Vienna, and from there to Constantinople, where eventually the World War found him. During the war he achieved wealth immediately through military commercial enterprises. At the same time, he came out publicly as a defender34 of the progressive mission of German militarism, broke definitely with the revolutionaries, and became one of the intellectual leaders of the right wing of the German Social Democracy. It goes without saying that since the war I have not had any political or personal contact with him.
From Munich, Sedova and I went to Vienna. The émigré tide was already rolling back to Russia. Victor Adler was completely engrossed35 in Russian affairs, and was obtaining money, passports, addresses and the like for the émigrés. In his house, a hairdresser wrought36 a change in my appearance an appearance that had already become too familiar to the Russian police-agents abroad.
“I have just received a telegram from Axelrod,” Adler in formed me, “saying that Gapon has arrived abroad and announced himself a Social Democrat2. It’s a pity. If he had disappeared altogether there would have remained a beautiful legend, whereas as an émigré he will be a comical figure. You know,” he added, with a sparkle in his eye that dulled the edge of his irony37, “such men are better as historical martyrs38 than as comrades in a party.”
While I was in Vienna, I heard the news of the assassination39 of Grand Duke Sergius. Events were crowding each other. The Social Democratic press turned its eyes to the east. My wife went ahead of me to arrange for living quarters and connections in Kiev. With a passport in the name of a retired40 corporal, Arbuzov, I arrived in Kiev in February, and for several weeks moved about from house to house. I stayed first with a young lawyer who was afraid of his own shadow, then with a professor at the Technological41 Institute, then with some widow who had liberal views. At one time I even found refuge in an ophthalmic hospital. Under instructions from the physician in charge, who understood my situation, the nurse, to my great embarrassment42, gave me foot-baths and applied43 some harmless drops to my eyes. I had to be doubly secretive because of that, and write my proclamations out of her sight she watched me so rigidly44 to prevent me from tiring my eyes. During the rounds of inspection45, the Doctor would get away from one of his assistants who was not considered reliable, rush into my room with a woman assistant whom he trusted, and quickly lock the doors and draw the curtains as if he were preparing to examine my eyes. After this, all three of us would break out into gay but cautious laughter.
“Have you cigarettes?” the doctor would ask. “Yes,” I would reply. “Quantum satis?” he continued. “Quantum satis,” I answered. And then we all laughed again. That was the end of the examination, and I would go back to writing proclamations. I was highly amused by this life. The only thing that made me feel a little ashamed of myself was having to deceive the amiable46 old nurse who treated me so conscientiously47 with foot-baths.
The famous underground printing-press was then in operation in Kiev, and, despite the many raids and arrests on every hand, managed to keep going for several years under the very nose of the chief of the secret police, Novitsky. It was in that same press that I had many of my proclamations printed in the spring of 1905. My longer writings I began to intrust to a young engineer named Krassin whom I met in Kiev. He was a member of the Bolshevik Central Committee and had at his disposal a large and well-equipped secret printing-press somewhere in the Caucasus. In Kiev, I wrote a number of leaflets for his press, which printed them clearly, an extraordinary thing in those underground conditions.
The party, like the revolution, was still young at that time, and one was struck by the inexperience and lack of finish revealed both by the members and by their actions in general. Krassin likewise was not wholly free from this fault. But there was something firm, resolute48 and “administrative” about him. He was an engineer of some experience, he held a paying job and filled it well; he was valued by his employers, and had a circle of acquaintances that was much larger and more varied49 than that of any of the young revolutionaries of the day. In workers’ rooms, in engineers’ apartments, in the mansions50 of the liberal Moscow industrialists51, in literary circles everywhere, Krassin had connections. He managed them all with great skill and, consequently, practical possibilities that were quite closed to the others were opened to him. In 1905, in addition to participating in the general work of the party, Krassin had charge of the most dangerous fields of the work, such as armed units, the purchase of arms, the preparing of stocks of explosives, and the like. In spite of his broad outlook he was primarily a man of immediate33 achievements, in politics as well as in life. That was his strength, but it was also his heel of Achilles. For long years of laborious52 gathering53 of forces, of political training, of theoretical analysis and experience for all this he had no call, and when the revolution of 1905 failed to realize its hopes, electro-technics and industry in general be came his first consideration. Even in that phase, Krassin excelled as a man who realized his aims, who could show exceptional achievements. There is no doubt that his greatest successes in engineering gave him the sort of personal satisfaction that he had earlier found in the revolutionary struggle. He received the Bolshevik revolution with hostile bewilderment, as an adventure foredoomed to failure. For a long time, he refused to believe in our ability to overcome the breakdown54 of the country. Later, however, he was carried away by the vista55 of work that was opened up before him.
As for myself, my connection with Krassin in 1905 was a godsend. We arranged to meet in St. Petersburg; he also supplied me with secret addresses there. The first and most important was that of the Konstantinovsky School of Artillery56, where I was to meet the chief medical officer, Alexander Alexandrovitch Litkens, to whose family fate bound me for a long time after. It was in Litkens’ house on Zabalkansky Prospect57, in the school building, that I sought secret refuge more than once in the restless days and nights of 1905. Sometimes under the very eyes of the military doorman the house of the chief physician was visited by such people as the school courtyard and its staircases had never seen. But the lower functionaries58 were very friendly to the doctor, no reports were made to the police, and everything went off smoothly59. The doctor’s elder son, Alexander, who was about 18, was then a member of the party, and a few months later led the peasant movement in the Orlov district. But he could not stand the terrific nervous strain, and fell ill and died. The doctor’s younger son, Evgraf, then a student in the gymnasium, later played an important part in the civil war and in the educational work of the Soviet60 Government, but was killed by bandits in the Crimea in 1921.
In St. Petersburg I lived officially on the passport of a landowner named Vikentiev. In revolutionary circles I was known as Peter Petrovitch. I was not formally a member of either of the two factions. I continued to work with Krassin, who was at that time a Bolshevik conciliator. This, in view of my inter-factional position, brought us even closer together. At the same time, I kept in touch with the local Menshevik group, which was following a very revolutionary policy. Under my influence, the group advocated boycott61 of the first advisory62 Duma, which brought it into conflict with the Menshevik centre abroad. This group was soon trapped by the government, however. It was betrayed by one of its active members, Dobroskok, known as “Nikolay of the Gold Spectacles,” who turned out to be a professional agent-provocateur. He knew that I was in St. Petersburg, and he knew me by sight. My wife was arrested at the Mayday meeting in the woods. I had to hide for a while, and so, in the summer, I left for Finland. Then there was a short interval63 of peace in which I did intensive literary work and took short walks in the country. I read the papers with avidity, watched the parties take shape, clipped newspapers, and grouped and sifted64 facts. During that period, I finally formulated65 my conception of the inner forces of Russian society and of the prospects66 of the Russian revolution.
Russia, I wrote then, is facing a bourgeois67-democratic revolution. The basis of the revolution is the land question. Power will be captured by the class or the party which will lead the peasantry against Czarism and the landowners. Neither the liberals nor the democratic intelligentsia will be able to do so; their historical time has passed. The revolutionary foreground is already occupied by the proletariat. Only the Social Democracy, acting68 through workers, can make the peasantry follow its lead. This opens to the Russian Social Democracy the prospect of capturing the power before that can possibly take place in the countries of the West. The immediate task of the Social Democracy will be to bring the democratic revolution to completion. But once in control, the proletariat party will not be able to confine itself merely to the democratic programme; it will be obliged to adopt Socialist14 measures. How far it will go in that direction will depend not only on the correlation69 of forces in Russia itself, but on the entire international situation as well. Hence the chief strategic line of action consequently demands that the Social Democracy, while fighting liberalism for the leadership of the peasantry, shall also set itself the task of seizing the power even during the progress of the bourgeois revolution.
The question of the general prospects of revolution was most intimately bound up with tactical problems. The central political slogan of the party was the demand for a constituent70 assembly. But the course of the revolutionary struggle raised the question of who would summon the constituent assembly, and how. From the prospect of a popular uprising directed by the proletariat, there followed logically the creation of a provisional revolutionary government. The leading r?le of the proletariat in the revolution was bound to secure for it a decisive part in the provisional government.
This question caused animated71 discussions in the upper circles of the party, as well as between Krassin and me. I wrote theses in which I argued that a complete victory of revolution over Czarism would mean either a proletariat in power, supported by the peasantry, or a direct step toward such power. This decisive statement frightened Krassin. He accepted the slogan of provisional revolutionary government, and the programme of its activities as I outlined them. But he refused to lay down in advance any rules on the subject of a Social Democratic majority in the government. In this form, my theses were printed in St. Petersburg, and Krassin took it upon him elf to defend them at the all-party congress which was to meet abroad in May. The congress, however, failed to occur. Krassin took an active part in the discussion of the question of provisional government at the Bolshevik congress and submitted my theses as an amendment72 to Lenin’s resolution. This episode is so interesting, politically, that I feel obliged to quote the minutes of the Bolshevik Congress.
“As regards the resolution of Comrade Lenin,” said Krassin, “I see its weak point in its failure to stress the question of provisional government, and to indicate, with sufficient clarity, the connection between provisional government and armed tip rising. As a matter of fact, the provisional government is established by the popular uprising as its own organ . . . I further find in the resolution the incorrect opinion that the provisional revolutionary government will appear only after the final victory of the armed uprising and after the overthrow73 of autocracy74. No it arises in the very process of the uprising and takes the most active part in the conduct of the uprising, insuring the latter’s victory by its organized action. It is naive75 to think that the Social Democracy will be able to take part in the provisional revolutionary government the moment the autocracy is completely overthrown76; when the chestnuts77 have been removed from the fire by other hands than ours, nobody will ever dream of sharing them with us.” All this was an almost verbatim statement of my theses.
Lenin, who in his introductory report had raised the question in its purely78 theoretical form, received Krassin’s point of view with great sympathy. This is what he said:
“Taking it by and large, I subscribe79 to the opinion of Comrade Krassin. It is natural that as a literary man, I should concentrate my attention on the literary shaping of the question. The importance of the object of the struggle is pointed80 out by Comrade Krassin very exactly, and I wholly subscribe to his view. One cannot engage in a struggle without expecting to capture the position for which one is fighting.”
The resolution was correspondingly amended81. It may not be superfluous82 to remark that during the polemics83 of the last few years, the resolution of the third congress on the question of provisional government has been quoted hundreds of times as something opposed to “Trotskyism.” The “red professors” of the Stalin school have not the ghost of an idea that they are quoting against me, as an example of Leninism, the very lines that I wrote myself.
The environment in which I lived in Finland, with its hills, pine-trees and lakes, its transparent84 autumn air, and its peace, was scarcely a reminder85 of a permanent revolution. At the end of September I moved still farther into the Finnish interior and took up my quarters in the woods on the shore of a lake, in an isolated86 pension, Rauha. This name in Finnish means “peace.” The huge pension was almost empty in the autumn. A Swedish writer was staying there during these last days with an English actress, and they left without paying their bill. The proprietor87 rushed after them to Helsingfors. His wife was very ill; they could only keep her heart beating by means of champagne88. I never saw her. She died while the proprietor was still away. Her body was in a room above me. The head waiter went to Helsingfors to look for her husband. There was only a young boy left for service. A heavy snow fell. The pine-trees were wrapped in a white shroud89. The pension was like death.
The young boy was away down in the kitchen, somewhere below the ground. Above me the dead woman was lying. I was alone. All in all, it was “rauha” peace. Not a soul, not even a sound. I wrote and walked. In the evening, the post man brought a bunch of St. Petersburg papers. I opened them, one after another. It was like a raging storm coming in through an open window. The strike was growing, and spreading from town to town. In the silence of the hotel, the rustling90 of the papers echoed in one’s ears like the rumble91 of an avalanche92. The revolution was in full swing.
I demanded my bill from the boy, ordered horses, and left my “peace” to meet the avalanche. That same evening I was making a speech in the great hall of the Polytechnic93 Institute in St. Petersburg.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
democrat
|
|
| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
factions
|
|
| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
renounce
|
|
| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
renounced
|
|
| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
disturbances
|
|
| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
seething
|
|
| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
insistent
|
|
| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
socialists
|
|
| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
socialist
|
|
| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
impasse
|
|
| n.僵局；死路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
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： |
|
|
|
|
17
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
sleepless
|
|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
pounced
|
|
| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
skilfully
|
|
| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
virile
|
|
| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
astronomical
|
|
| adj.天文学的，（数字）极大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
apparatus
|
|
| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
originality
|
|
| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
defender
|
|
| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
engrossed
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
assassination
|
|
| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
technological
|
|
| adj.技术的；工艺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
rigidly
|
|
| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
conscientiously
|
|
| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
mansions
|
|
| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
industrialists
|
|
| n.工业家，实业家( industrialist的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
laborious
|
|
| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
breakdown
|
|
| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
vista
|
|
| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
artillery
|
|
| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
functionaries
|
|
| n.公职人员，官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
Soviet
|
|
| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
boycott
|
|
| n./v.(联合)抵制，拒绝参与 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
advisory
|
|
| adj.劝告的，忠告的，顾问的，提供咨询 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
sifted
|
|
| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
formulated
|
|
| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bourgeois
|
|
| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
correlation
|
|
| n.相互关系，相关，关连 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
constituent
|
|
| n.选民；成分，组分；adj.组成的，构成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
amendment
|
|
| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
overthrow
|
|
| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
autocracy
|
|
| n.独裁政治，独裁政府 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
overthrown
|
|
| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
chestnuts
|
|
| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
subscribe
|
|
| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
Amended
|
|
| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
polemics
|
|
| n.辩论术，辩论法；争论( polemic的名词复数 )；辩论；辩论术；辩论法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
shroud
|
|
| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
rumble
|
|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
avalanche
|
|
| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
polytechnic
|
|
| adj.各种工艺的，综合技术的；n.工艺(专科)学校；理工(专科)学校 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |