Moral considerations apart, the faker of objects for collections is far more interesting a personage than some of his duped victims. His artistic4 personality separates him from the commoner class, the peculiarity5 of his trade, while not redeeming7 the disreputableness of his conduct, confers upon him the poetical8 nimbus of art and mystery, just as an undefined feeling of heroism9 or chivalry10 may, to an imaginative mind, turn an old-fashioned brigand11 into a classical type of buccaneer.
These mute workers, who actually earn their money by false pretences12, deluding13 and deceiving with callous14 energy in what a commercial mind might call “their line of business,” are not infrequently people of scruples15 and probity16 in all other respects, men to whom credit might be given with safety.
As we have stated before, the collector is partially17 responsible if excellent imitators sometimes turn into fakers. Ask the forger1 how it was that he became such, and nine times out of ten you will either hear that he was tired of seeing others make indecent profits out of his work, or that he was prompted by the consideration that there were fools ready to pay ten times the value of his work, provided he did not claim authorship,195 and would pretend his work was antique. Curiously18 enough, when questioned about the beginning of their fraudulent profession, some will speak of their transition from honesty to dishonesty with the reticence19 of a woman gone astray; others, perhaps the larger number, are boastful and inclined to glory in the success accorded to their fakes.
La Rochefoucauld has written in his Maximes that it is easier to deceive oneself than others. The vaunting class of fakers have somewhat reversed the terms of this saying, their common tenet being that it is easier to cheat others than to cheat oneself. This maxim20, however, gives the faker undue21 confidence and a too prolific22 activity in creating sham23 masterpieces, and eventually contributes to the exposure of his fraud and the final ruin of what he considers, and what has proved to be, a most remunerative24 business. Many discoveries of falsified chefs-d’œuvre are due to over-productiveness of the faker. His self-confidence augmenting25 his activity to alarming proportions, it naturally increases the probability of discovery.
However, the faker is perforce a close-mouthed fellow, always on his guard and very rarely taken, as one might say, by surprise. Nevertheless he too possesses what might be called in fanciful metaphor26 the Achilles’ vulnerable spot where his silence may be attacked: it is his pride that must be tickled27.
It was an aim of mine in the past to trace forgery28 in art to its origin. Not exactly as a hobby but in the belief that in these days it is important to know how works of art are imitated and faked, that it is part of modern connoisseurship29 in fact. To-day one must learn how to detect forgeries30 just as one must learn how to admire genuine art.
Forgery museums, intelligently organized, would be far more interesting—and more original—to-day than the various galleries of fine arts.
On more than one occasion after having traced the forger, the above system of flattering his vanity has extorted31 an unexpected confidence. To give an instance: some time ago196 the Italian market began to be infested32 by good imitations of bronze figures of the type of the Paduan school. An antiquary, from whom I have the story, traced the forger to Modena and called upon the fellow whom he held in suspicion. At first he had no clue, but finally, becoming friendly, he happened to surprise a confession33 from him under the following circumstances. It must be noted34 that a faker will talk freely on the subject of forgery, never presuming to be discovered and always as an outsider. Speaking of imitations, the antiquary expressed his surprise at the sure modelling and most convincing patina35 of some recent imitations he had seen. He explained that the imitation was really so good that he himself had been deceived by a small group representing a nymph and satyr. Circumstances alone had saved him at the last moment from being taken in and giving his opinion by attributing the bronze to Andrea Briosco. The piece to be sure was convincing enough to pass for one of the best works Briosco ever conceived. It was really worth the extravagant36 sums collectors are willing to pay for Briosco’s piece, called il Riccio, even though it was modern.
“Perhaps it was worth it,” remarked the artist with the characteristic rebellious37 accent peculiar6 to successful fakers.
This first burst of self-pride, properly nourished by the other with eulogies38 of the great artist who had modelled the group, drew forth39 the desired disclosure. When the antiquary remarked:
“That group ought to bring a big price. If collectors were not, generally speaking, so utterly40 deprived of true artistic sense, if they were not——”
“Such a pack of fools and snobs,” interrupted the artist.
The chink in the armour of silence was now discovered. Though without giving a hint as to his craft or the recipe of his wonderful patina, upon promise of silence with regard to his name, he proudly acknowledged authorship of the bronze group supposed to be of the school of Padua, and finally offered to show other pieces ready to enter the world197 of fakes, finished and ready to go and play the part of masterpieces of the Renaissance41.
When the artist was asked how he managed to dispose of his faked goods, he averred43 that that part of the business belonged to the dealer44. A specialist like himself, he said, had nothing to do with that side. The only compact he had made was with his own conscience, being perfectly45 aware that he was handsomely paid and that his agent realized three times as much.
According to him, even museums were buying spurious works of art, and labelling them with pompous46 attributions, knowing all the while that they were not authentic47.
We quote this as a mere48 incident to show the view and supercilious49 attitude taken by the faker with regard to his art.
Incidentally and from the same source came the information that some well-imitated octagonal tables that had fetched high prices in the antique furniture market as real Quattrocento work were made in Bologna, and that the old patina and blunt corners were acquired by real use, the tables being lent for a time to cheap restaurants and the shops of sausage-dealers50. The bronze faker of Modena possessed51 one of these tables which showed a casual knife cut and the abuse of age. To make the piece more handsomely suggestive, upon the top of the table there had been roughly scratched with a nail a square of the geometrical lines of the old game of “Filetto.” One could easily work up one’s fancy before that perpetrated abuse and imagine crowds of lansquesnets or inveterate52 dice-throwers.
When asked why he did not put his signature to such excellent work as his, that it would certainly be valued on its own merits, he shook his head and repeated the refrain so often heard from successful fakers that the time of the old-fashioned intelligent and art-loving collectors had passed, that collecting was nowadays nothing but a fad53, that the modern collector is only a pretender. In proof of his assertion he referred to the then recent incident.
“See what happened to Donatello’s puttino in London.”
198 For those who may have forgotten the incident, we will recall how a little bronze statue by Donatello was vainly offered for sale to the London dealers. This statue was missing from the baptistery of San Francesco of Siena. The statuette represented a puttino (boy) and, hardly a foot high, had been stolen from the church at Siena in the beginning of the nineteenth century. It mysteriously found its way to London, where it was in all probability buried and forgotten in some private collection for three-score years or more. When the forgotten statue suddenly emerged from its nook of oblivion it was offered for sale simply as an old bronze, but being taken for a modern imitation it fetched no decent price. A Bond Street specialist refused it at two thousand francs. The Donatello was finally bought for 12,000 francs by the Berlin Museum, this being about the fiftieth part of its present value.
It is curious to hear the various opinions entertained by collectors and art lovers concerning faking and its alarming and increasing success. An old collector who had, no doubt like so many of his colleagues, learned his lesson through being duped, unhesitatingly declared that faking is a grand art with a reason for existence as it seems to meet a real need of society, the need of being, as it were, deluded54 and cheated by elegance55. Queer ethics56 answering to the Latin saying: Vulgus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur (The crowd likes to be deceived, let it be deceived!).
A former curator of the Victoria and Albert Museum used to pay due tribute to the art of good imitators and fakers, who had succeeded in deceiving the vigilant57 eye of the guardians58 of museums, by stating that imitations are really too good to be mistaken for antiques, much better, indeed, than some of the examples of the art they would falsify.
The really experienced collector is inclined to look upon faking as a huge joke to be played on greenhorns and the inexperienced, even although some of the silent torpedoes59 of faking do triumphantly60 succeed in hitting people who are iron-clad with knowledge.
199 Novices61 take two opposite views of the matter. One class is positively62 ashamed of having been “taken in,” and hides the fact by concealing63 the proof of his ignorance in a dark corner of the house; the other, viewing the deception64 in a more business-like way, has recourse to the courts with more or less happy results. The latter class is naturally inclined to favour the greatest possible severity of the law.
In some of the cases in which the tribunals are called upon to pass judgment65, one is inclined to wonder whether in pronouncing a severe sentence on the culprit, the magistrates66 do not feel like laughing up their sleeve at the supine foolishness of the plaintiff.
The case of M. Chasles, a celebrated67 and highly esteemed68 mathematician69 and member of the Paris Institut, furnishes us with proof of how a man can be great in his own speciality, yet likely to be taken in under peculiar and rather astonishing circumstances.
Monsieur Chasles had apparently70 taken to autograph-hunting, one of the most dangerous pursuits a mere dilettante71 can dream of. His career at the beginning was perhaps that of any other neophyte72, and except for the astonishing sequence, might belong to the trite73 record of daily happenings on the unsafe side of curio-hunting.
The celebrated mathematician had hardly gathered his first autographs when to his misfortune he met with a certain Vrain-Lucas, an imposter whose talent fitted to perfection the over-trusting mathematician.
But for the documentary evidence of the trial (quoted by Paul Eudel in his book, Le Truquage), it would be utterly incredible that anyone, particularly a learned man, could be gulled74 to such an extent. Yet on the 16th of February, 1869, Monsieur Chasles appeared before the Paris Court of Justice as a plaintiff, and the public discussion of the case—which ended in the condemnation75 of the defendant76, Vrain-Lucas, to two years’ imprisonment77 and a fine of 500 francs with costs—clearly divulged78 how the eminent79 professor had been the victim of le sieur Vrain-Lucas, a semi-learned man200 of unquestionable talent and a stupendous and fertile power of invention. For the total sum of 140,000 francs he had sold to his client would-be authentic autographs and pretended indisputable original manuscripts—really the most extraordinary pieces a collector ever dreamt of!
Among other things there was included: a private letter of Alexander the Great addressed to Aristotle; a letter of Cleopatra to Julius Cæsar, informing the Roman Dictator that their son “Cesarion” was getting on very well; a missive of Lazarus to St. Peter; also a lengthy80 epistle addressed to Lazarus by Mary Magdalen. It should be added that the letters were written in French and in what might be styled an eighteenth-century jargon81, that Alexander addressed Aristotle as Mon Ami and Cleopatra scribbled82 to Cæsar: Notre fils Cesarion va bien. Lazarus, no less a scholar in the Gallic idiom, and to whom, maybe, a miraculous83 resurrection had prompted a new personality, writes to St. Peter in the spirit of a rhetorician and a prig, speaking of Cicero’s oratory85 and Cæsar’s writings, getting excited and anathematic on Druidic rites84 and their cruel habit de sacrifier des hommes saulœvaiges.
Mary Magdalen, who begins her letter with a mon très aimé frère Lazarus, ce que me mandez de Petrus l’apostre de notre doux Jesus, is supposed to be writing from Marseilles and thus would appear to be the only one out of the many who can logically indulge in French, the jargon-bouillabaisse that Vrain-Lucas lent to the gallant86 array of his personages.
Photo]
[Alinari
Child.
By Donatello, whose taste in statuary was chiefly formed in Rome.
After such a practical joke played on the excellent good faith of M. Chasles, some of the other autographs seem tame. The package, however, also contained scraps87 jotted88 down by Alcibiades and Pericles, a full confession of Judas Iscariot’s crime written by himself to Mary Magdalen before passing the rope round his neck; a letter of Pontius Pilate addressed to Tiberius expressing his sorrow for the death of Christ. Other astounding89 pieces of this now famous collection were: a passport signed by Vercingetorix, a poem of Abelard and some love-letters addressed by Laura to Petrarch, as201 well as many other historical documents down to a manuscript of Pascal and an exchange of letters between the French scientist and Newton on the laws of gravitation, the Frenchman claiming the discovery as his own.
The latter manuscript caused a memorable90 polemic91 between the savants of London and Paris, a regular tournament of clever arguing among the scholars of the two countries, which finally led to the discovery of the huge fraud of which M. Chasles was the assigned but unresigned victim.
The chance way the imposture92 was exposed makes one wonder how it was possible for the case to have the honour of serious discussion among scientists. Among other historical blunders is the supposition that Newton could have exchanged letters with Pascal on the laws of gravitation. The former being but nine years old when Pascal died, he had certainly not yet given his mind to the observations bringing about his marvellous discovery. Further, as an example of gravitation, Pascal relates that he has noticed how in a cup of coffee the bubbles are attracted toward the edge of the receptacle. It is known that coffee was imported into France some nine years after the death of the great French philosopher and mathematician.
Leaving the man who does really artistic work we are now introduced to the majority of the class, mere fabricators of artistic pastiches93, which notwithstanding complete absence of meritorious94 qualities are nevertheless effective decoys for unwary art lovers.
To this legion belong, of course, the most mediocre95 painters and sculptors96, those whose chief cunning lies in the transference of age to their modern fabrications. They are guided in their work mostly by a considerable amount of practice in restoring old paintings, marbles, stuccoes, and so forth.
There is also a peculiar type of impostor who plays his tricks solely97 for the fun of it, a curious type who for the joy of having cheated some one, will deny himself the pleasure of revealing his name and glory in his success.
To this stamp must have belonged M. A. Maillet, a distinguished202 chemist who in 1864 took the trouble to publish a book on antediluvian98 excavations99, for no other purpose evidently than to fool scholars given to that particular study. Needless to say the volume met with astonishing success. Among reproductions of genuine antediluvian relics101, the eminent chemist interspersed102 his writing with spurious and fantastic illustrations of pretended finds of his own invention. They consisted of carved bones with figures, symbols and mysterious writings.
To say that no polemic or learned appreciation103 of the volume followed its publication would be to slander104 the too easily kindled105 enthusiasm of learned specialists. As usual the polemic revealed the true character of the volume, but before reaching its conclusion there was more than one reputation sullied and more than one scientist who lost caste. The perplexity and chaotic106 confusion caused by the publication was felt by M. A. Maillet to be ample recompense for his labour and expense.
The jovial107 faker, who is out solely for the fun of making game of some one, is no modern invention. Notably108 in Italy it is not uncommon109 to find a Greek or Latin inscription110, traced centuries ago, with no apparent purpose than that of puzzling posterity111, or putting historians off the scent112. This would seem to be a still more remarkable113 form of faking, as the author not only derives114 no profit whatever from his trouble, but is not at all likely to be present to enjoy the result of his dupery.
Even among these mysterious helpers of the trade in curios—those who work for their living—they are rarely deprived of that facetious115 spirit that gives them a relish116 for some brilliant case of deception. Their joy is not wholly permeated117 by venal118 considerations.
There is no question but that some fakers go to work like true sportsmen. Hearing them boast, or describe some of their successful comedies in which they have been author, actor and manager all in one, it is not difficult to deduce that the only genuine thing to spur their imagination and activity203 is the desire to cheat any and everybody willing to be convinced by them or their work.
The chief characteristics of some of these comedies, which often necessitate119 the help of the faker’s bosom120 friend, the dealer or go-between, are pluck and an uncommon knowledge of the psychology121 of collectors. In more than one instance psychology would appear to have actually made the impossible become possible.
The story of the forged Rameses is still floating as a tradition in the gossipy world of antiquities122 in Paris. In his work, Le Truquage, Paul Eudel relates the anecdote123 in all its amusing detail.
A Parisian collector was, it seems, the happy owner of the most complete collection of Egyptian fine art objects. Not a specimen124 was missing apparently. But, as Eudel observes, “Is a collector ever ready to call his collection complete?” A collection is like a literary work which never seems to go beyond the “preface,” and there is no limit to it.
The collector in question had, however, set his limit, deciding that his collection might be considered complete as soon as he had secured one of those serene-looking, colossal125 Egyptian statues with which to ornament126 and complete the courtyard of the mansion127 housing his collection.
To be rich, to have a fixed128 desire and to blazen forth one’s particular hobby is a dangerous combination of ingredients in the world of curio-dealing, especially with the ever-ready and active faker close to hand.
To gratify this collector’s hobby an informant turned up one day to report that near Thebes a splendid statue of heroic proportions had been discovered. It was said to be the effigy129 of a Rameses in all its impassive beauty. Having knowledge of the collector’s penchant130 the informant’s agent in Egypt had kept back the secret of the discovery. In this way the collector was given the first refusal, the statue was all ready to be shipped, the whole at the reasonable price of a hundred thousand francs.
As usual the proposal was accompanied with convincing204 documents, stamped letters, descriptive memoranda131 and so forth. Within view of a long-desired ornament, the collector was easily induced to take part in the transaction to be carried on with the usual secrecy132, upon the condition that the statue should be taken straight to his house on its arrival, and in such a way as to preclude133 all knowledge on the part of others.
Anyone unacquainted with the psychology of collectors—something that never happens to fakers—might be inclined to imagine that the schemer would try to hasten the conclusion of the business so elaborately planned, for fear the buyer might change his mind or have his eyes opened in some way. But our man knew that the collector would speak to no one, lest he might lose the rare chance offered him, and also that the longer the delay, the more obstacles met with or surmounted134, the keener would he become to possess the exceptional “find.”
Finally, when the arrival of the statue was announced and it reached the Paris railway station in due time, the collector, suspicious and afraid like all true art lovers, insisted that it should be conveyed to his house by night.
After so much picturesque135 mystery the dénouement came, as usual, too late and in the most banal136 manner. The fraud was exposed on the very day of the exhibition, and the enraged137 collector started an energetic search for the culprits, but the birds had flown—he only found the empty cage, namely the atelier in a neighbouring street where his Rameses had been given birth. The debris138 of the would-be Oriental granite139 still strewed140 the floor.
“Sic transit——”
The faker and the forger are not prone141 to repentance142. Vrain-Lucas, who had made himself notorious by cheating M. Chasles, had hardly regained143 his liberty after serving his term before he was again called to answer for another fraud. For a poor provincial144 priest he had falsified a whole genealogical tree.
Paul Eudel relates of one Oriental faker who proved himself as impenitent145 as resourceful. Clever and gifted with the205 peculiar shrewdness of the Oriental, he made his first coup146 by selling to the German Emperor some Moabite pottery147 which had certainly never been on the shores of the Jordan nor on the coast of the Dead Sea. This clever piece of trickery was recently discovered by the eminent Orientalist M. Clermont-Ganneau.
Back in Jerusalem and silent for a time, he next appeared in Europe offering the savants a most astonishing relic100. Quite unabashed by the exposure of the Moabite pottery, he went straight to Berlin to offer some old passages of the Bible of most authentic character. They were written on narrow strips of leather supposed to have been found on a mummy.
Scholars examined the precious relics with care and silently concluded to decline to enter into the bargain. The precious document, though evidently forged, had been falsified on a piece of very old leather, the only part unquestionably aged42.
The surprising part was that the culprit was not at all discouraged by the first collapse148 of his scheme but went to London, where he offered his Biblical find to the British Museum for the trifling149 sum of a million pounds sterling150.
The plan very nearly succeeded. Daily papers became excited over the discovery of the rare Moabite manuscript, a document dating from at least the eighth or ninth century before Christ.
The learned Dr. Ginsburg, who set himself to the task of deciphering the obscure and indistinct characters of the worn-out leather strips, recognized in them a fragment of the fifth book of the Pentateuch. When M. Clermont-Ganneau came to examine the document he declared it for many reasons to be a daring forgery.
Apart from the fact that the strips could not have enwrapped a mummy, as neither Hebrews nor Phœnicians had the custom of embalming151 their dead, the leather said to have been found in Palestine could hardly have withstood for so long the action of a damp climate. Such preservation152 would206 only be possible in the dry climate of the desert or some one of the favoured parts of Egypt.
It was discovered at the same time that the strips of the famous manuscript had been cut from a piece of leather some two centuries old—the erased153 original characters still being traceable—upon which the Biblical fragments had been copied in the Moabite alphabet.
The artist with a vaster range and wider scope for duping is, without doubt, the one working on artistic frauds, as the proportion stands at one collector of manuscripts to a thousand art collectors. It is immaterial to him whether he meets specialists or eclectics in this large field—they are all good game. The facility with which he is thus able to dispose of his wares154 makes him still more refractory155 to reform. Silent, often obscure, always mysterious, he claims for his activity what must appear to him a noble justification156: he paradoxically believes himself to be a real factor of his client’s happiness. But for him some of the collectors would find it tremendously difficult to possess masterpieces, and if they die happy without realizing that they have been fooled, where is the difference?
After all, in this fool’s paradise they are happy and undisturbed—so very few realize either that they have been totally duped by a fake or partially cheated by over-restoration. Most of the modern collectors too often resemble that type of art lover:
... Qui croit tenir les pommes d’Hesperides Et presse tendrement un navet sur son coeur.2
2
.. : Who thinks he holds the apples of the Hesperides Whilst pressing tenderly a turnip157 to his heart.
点击收听单词发音
1 forger | |
v.伪造;n.(钱、文件等的)伪造者 | |
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2 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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3 counterfeited | |
v.仿制,造假( counterfeit的过去分词 ) | |
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4 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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5 peculiarity | |
n.独特性,特色;特殊的东西;怪癖 | |
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6 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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7 redeeming | |
补偿的,弥补的 | |
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8 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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9 heroism | |
n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
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10 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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11 brigand | |
n.土匪,强盗 | |
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12 pretences | |
n.假装( pretence的名词复数 );作假;自命;自称 | |
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13 deluding | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的现在分词 ) | |
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14 callous | |
adj.无情的,冷淡的,硬结的,起老茧的 | |
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15 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 probity | |
n.刚直;廉洁,正直 | |
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17 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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18 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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19 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
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20 maxim | |
n.格言,箴言 | |
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21 undue | |
adj.过分的;不适当的;未到期的 | |
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22 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
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23 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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24 remunerative | |
adj.有报酬的 | |
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25 augmenting | |
使扩张 | |
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26 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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27 tickled | |
(使)发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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28 forgery | |
n.伪造的文件等,赝品,伪造(行为) | |
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29 connoisseurship | |
n.鉴赏家(或鉴定家、行家)身份,鉴赏(或鉴定)力 | |
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30 forgeries | |
伪造( forgery的名词复数 ); 伪造的文件、签名等 | |
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31 extorted | |
v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 );曲解 | |
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32 infested | |
adj.为患的,大批滋生的(常与with搭配)v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 );遍布于 | |
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33 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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34 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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35 patina | |
n.铜器上的绿锈,年久而产生的光泽 | |
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36 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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37 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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38 eulogies | |
n.颂词,颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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39 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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40 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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41 renaissance | |
n.复活,复兴,文艺复兴 | |
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42 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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43 averred | |
v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 );证实;证明…属实;作为事实提出 | |
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44 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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45 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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46 pompous | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的;夸大的;豪华的 | |
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47 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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48 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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49 supercilious | |
adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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50 dealers | |
n.商人( dealer的名词复数 );贩毒者;毒品贩子;发牌者 | |
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51 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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52 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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53 fad | |
n.时尚;一时流行的狂热;一时的爱好 | |
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54 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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56 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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57 vigilant | |
adj.警觉的,警戒的,警惕的 | |
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58 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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59 torpedoes | |
鱼雷( torpedo的名词复数 ); 油井爆破筒; 刺客; 掼炮 | |
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60 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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61 novices | |
n.新手( novice的名词复数 );初学修士(或修女);(修会等的)初学生;尚未赢过大赛的赛马 | |
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62 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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63 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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64 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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65 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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66 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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67 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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68 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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69 mathematician | |
n.数学家 | |
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70 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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71 dilettante | |
n.半瓶醋,业余爱好者 | |
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72 neophyte | |
n.新信徒;开始者 | |
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73 trite | |
adj.陈腐的 | |
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74 gulled | |
v.欺骗某人( gull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75 condemnation | |
n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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76 defendant | |
n.被告;adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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77 imprisonment | |
n.关押,监禁,坐牢 | |
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78 divulged | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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80 lengthy | |
adj.漫长的,冗长的 | |
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81 jargon | |
n.术语,行话 | |
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82 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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83 miraculous | |
adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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84 rites | |
仪式,典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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85 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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86 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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87 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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88 jotted | |
v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 );草草记下,匆匆记下 | |
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89 astounding | |
adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊,使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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90 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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91 polemic | |
n.争论,论战 | |
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92 imposture | |
n.冒名顶替,欺骗 | |
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93 pastiches | |
n.模仿作品( pastiche的名词复数 );拼凑的艺术作品;集锦;模仿的艺术风格 | |
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94 meritorious | |
adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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95 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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96 sculptors | |
雕刻家,雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 ); [天]玉夫座 | |
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97 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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98 antediluvian | |
adj.史前的,陈旧的 | |
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99 excavations | |
n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 );开凿;开凿的洞穴(或山路等);(发掘出来的)古迹 | |
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100 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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101 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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102 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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103 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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104 slander | |
n./v.诽谤,污蔑 | |
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105 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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106 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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107 jovial | |
adj.快乐的,好交际的 | |
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108 notably | |
adv.值得注意地,显著地,尤其地,特别地 | |
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109 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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110 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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111 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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112 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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113 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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114 derives | |
v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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115 facetious | |
adj.轻浮的,好开玩笑的 | |
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116 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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117 permeated | |
弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 ); 遍布; 渗入; 渗透 | |
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118 venal | |
adj.唯利是图的,贪脏枉法的 | |
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119 necessitate | |
v.使成为必要,需要 | |
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120 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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121 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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122 antiquities | |
n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 );古迹;古人们;古代的风俗习惯 | |
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123 anecdote | |
n.轶事,趣闻,短故事 | |
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124 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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125 colossal | |
adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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126 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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127 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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128 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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129 effigy | |
n.肖像 | |
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130 penchant | |
n.爱好,嗜好;(强烈的)倾向 | |
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131 memoranda | |
n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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132 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
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133 preclude | |
vt.阻止,排除,防止;妨碍 | |
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134 surmounted | |
战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 ); 克服(困难); 居于…之上; 在…顶上 | |
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135 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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136 banal | |
adj.陈腐的,平庸的 | |
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137 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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138 debris | |
n.瓦砾堆,废墟,碎片 | |
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139 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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140 strewed | |
v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 );散落于;点缀;撒满 | |
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141 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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142 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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143 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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144 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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145 impenitent | |
adj.不悔悟的,顽固的 | |
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146 coup | |
n.政变;突然而成功的行动 | |
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147 pottery | |
n.陶器,陶器场 | |
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148 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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149 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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150 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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151 embalming | |
v.保存(尸体)不腐( embalm的现在分词 );使不被遗忘;使充满香气 | |
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152 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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153 erased | |
v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 );抹去;清除 | |
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154 wares | |
n. 货物, 商品 | |
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155 refractory | |
adj.倔强的,难驾驭的 | |
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156 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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157 turnip | |
n.萝卜,芜菁 | |
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