“Il Duca perse lo Stato e la roba e la libertà, e nessuna sua opera si finì per lui.”—Leonardo da Vinci.
If the great movements of history could ever be said to turn on the existence of an individual, one might regard as the paradoxical result of Galeazzo Maria’s death the loss of Italy’s freedom. The young Milanese Brutus, in his noble rage against tyranny, little foresaw the three centuries of dark and hopeless servitude which by the unimpassioned workings of fate his blow would indirectly1 bring upon his country. The exclamation2 of the cynical3 Sixtus IV. at the news of the murder—To-day is the peace of Italy dead,—showed a clearer vision. The scheming Pope saw and gauged4 the unstable5 elements in the situation—the ambition of Naples and Venice, the helplessness of Duke Galeazzo’s ten-year-old successor, the contagion7 of disorder8 throughout Italy; remembered the aggressive Turk in the east, the adventurous9 Frank in the north, and forthwith set to work to precipitate11 the inevitable12 upheaval13 in the interests of his own family.
The trouble ahead was, however, as yet hidden. Milan kept calm. The air-bubble expectations of the conspirators14 had perished at the touch of reality. There was no attempt at a rising. The widowed Duchess assumed without opposition15 the supreme16 authority as regent for her son, the child Gian Galeazzo, with Cecco Simonetta as her chief minister. 148The dead Duke’s brothers, Sforza, Duke of Bari, and Lodovico il Moro, were absent in France, Ascanio the priest in Rome. But the situation was pregnant with danger, as Simonetta well knew. He suspended all Galeazzo Maria’s works of embellishment in the city, set the engineers and builders to construct new defences, threw a strong garrison17 into the Castle, and adopted every precaution against revolt. The chief menace came from the nobles of the old Ghibelline party. They hated Simonetta, who was a Sicilian and the creature of Francesco Sforza, with no interest apart from his master’s House, which he strengthened by depressing the great feudatories. The veteran minister was unpopular with the people too, because he was a foreigner, and because of the heavy taxes. Sforza and Lodovico, hurrying back from France, and joined by Ascanio, found a powerful party, headed by the fiery19 and restless soldier, Roberto di San Severino, ready to support them in overthrowing21 the government. But Simonetta was on the watch. He seized one of the chiefs of the disaffected22 party, and filled the city with troops. San Severino promptly24 fled to Naples, and the three princes retreated to a little distance, ready to escape. Their youngest brother, Ottaviano, a youth of eighteen, who was involved in their plot, also rode hastily out of the city, and finding himself pursued, leapt into the swollen25 Adda, and was washed off his horse and drowned. A formal decree banishing26 the elder princes was issued, and for the moment the danger was over and Simonetta triumphed.
Naples, however, ambitious for a foothold in Milan, embraced the cause of the exiles, and sent San Severino with an army to worry the ducal territories. The brothers themselves, from their different places of refuge, kept up communications with their partisans28 in the city, and intrigued29 against the government. 149Simonetta’s power depended upon the will of the Duchess Bona, a lady ‘of little good-sense,’ according to Commines. Though she left the guidance of affairs entirely31 to the minister, his influence could not compete with the charms of her handsome Ferrarese secretary, Antonio Tassino, to whom she could deny nothing. The inordinate32 presumption33 of this favourite soon conflicted with Simonetta’s authority. Lodovico Sforza, who far away had eyes and ears everywhere, was quick to profit by the dissension between these two powers at Court. The death, in 1479, of the elder brother Sforza—from excessive fat—helped to clear the path for the ambition of the Moro, who was now created Duke of Bari by the King of Naples, in succession to Sforza. To him the rebellious34 spirits in Milan looked henceforth as their leader. A number of the great nobles, the Borromei, the Da Pusterla—those old foes35 of the Dukes of Milan—the Marliani and others, aided the upstart Tassino to turn the Duchess against her husband’s faithful old servant. Beatrice da Este, wife of Lodovico’s half-brother Tristan, and other ladies in her intimacy37, plied38 her with complaints of Simonetta, and entreated39 her to dismiss him and recall the banished40 Moro, who with the mercenaries of Naples was now preying41 on her territories. Tassino whispered the same persuasions43 between the endearments44 which she permitted from him. At last, one day Lodovico himself knelt before her, having at great risk returned to the city and made his way secretly through the gardens into the Castello. Heedless of his disobedience to her decree of banishment45, the thoughtless woman received him with the utmost joy, and the whole city burst into a frenzy46 of welcome. Simonetta’s clear vision read the future. Most illustrious Duchess, said he, I shall lose my head, you your State. Deaf to his warning, Bona committed 150the government to her brother-in-law. Three days later Simonetta was arrested and carried to the Castle of Pavia, where, after he had lain a whole year in captivity48, he was brought to trial, before one of the most vindictive49 of his personal enemies, on a charge of enormous crimes against the ducal House. He was tortured, and finally beheaded in the Castle yard. For putting him to so merciful an end, Bona took much credit to herself in an official notification of his trial and death sent to the various Courts of Italy.
The minister disposed of, the turn of the favourite came. From being Lodovico’s ally and tool, Tassino was now become a serious hindrance50 to Lodovico. His arrogance51 was overweening. He had boundless52 power over Bona, and was rapidly making himself absolute master in the palace. The crisis arrived in a struggle over the Rocchetta, the inner Keep of the Castle of Milan, which, with its strong garrison and impregnable defences, gave its commander virtual dominion54 of the whole city. Tassino persuaded the Duchess to appoint his father as Castellan, in the place of Filippo Eustachio, who had been put in charge of it by Duke Galeazzo. But Filippo, a staunch adherent55 of Lodovico’s, disobeyed her repeated commands to give up the keys, and sturdily resisted all her efforts to remove him, defying her threats and sentences, until the Moro had prepared a swift and sudden stroke. One day, at Lodovico’s bidding, Filippo and Gio. Francesco Pallavicino entered the apartments of the little Duke, at an hour when most of his attendants were out of the way, and snatching up the child, carried him across the narrow bridge which led from the Corte Ducale into the Rocchetta, and delivered him into the custody56 of his uncle. With the person of the sovereign in his possession, behind the defence of drawbridges, portcullises and artillery57, and a strong 151body of soldiers faithful to himself, the Moro could dictate58 terms to the Duchess. She had no alternative but to surrender to him the regency and the guardianship59 of her son. As for Tassino, seeing himself overreached, he fled incontinently, to escape a worse fate, and stripped of everything but his perfumes and ivory combs, which were bundled after him, he disappears ignobly60 out of history. Bereft61 at once of lover, son and sovereignty, Bona was a piteous figure of helpless rage and grief. She declared she would abandon the Duchy, even if she had to climb out of the windows and cross the moat at the risk of her life. Lodovico, however, gently detained her in the Castle of Abbiategrasso, a virtual prisoner, until the subsidence of her shallow passion enabled her to submit to the new order of things and settle down, without power or authority, to a quiet life with her children, in the Castello of Milan again.
Thus, by a series of successful palace intrigues62, Lodovico Sforza made himself supreme in Milan. He had still, however, to cope with the resentment63 of the nobles who had helped him to power, and now found themselves denied any share in it. Like all usurpers, Lodovico found ingratitude65 necessary to self-preservation, and from the first he studied to depress his more powerful subjects, choosing foreigners and men of modest degree as his ministers and advisers67. Roberto di San Severino with many other nobles now took up arms against him. But they were completely defeated by Constanzo Sforza, an able general and a kinsman68 of the reigning69 House, and the turbulent San Severino, transformed into the Moro’s bitterest foe36, quitted the Duchy, and went off to serve Venice in the war against Ferrara.
The masterly craft by which Lodovico Sforza had achieved his triumph, roused the admiration70 and fear 152of all Italy, which increased as, with the progress of time, he became the most conspicuous71 figure in Italian politics. About the enigmatic personality of this prince, history has confused our minds with contrary judgments72, which romance has translated into a various caricature. His peculiar74 association with Italy’s greatest glory and greatest shame has thrown an exaggerated light and shade upon his memory. The Italian historians of this period make him the scapegoat76 for that calamity77 of Italy, which no one man, but the ancient and inherent sin of the whole nation, brought about. Guicciardini, while recording78 his many virtues80 of mind and heart, is glad to believe him guilty of the worst crimes of ambition and perfidy82, and to discover in him a fatal self-conceit. Paolo Giovio speaks of him as born for the undoing83 of Italy. Modern inquirers have modified the traditional view of the Moro, by showing the baselessness of some of the worse charges against him, and by a diligent84 prying85 into all the details of his domestic existence, they have at once humanised and belittled86 the old picture of the man. Yet still the real Lodovico seems dark to us. It is not for nothing that the name of il Moro—the Moor87—given to the dark-skinned boy in his childhood, has clung to him through history; it shows the conviction of his contemporaries and of posterity88 that it fitted not only his bodily appearance, but the complexion89 of his soul.
By his actions he must be judged. In the Italy of the Quattrocento, to do evil that good might come was excellent morality. The best men practised it, and differed only from the worst in the ends they pursued. Lodovico’s usurpation90 of power had its immediate91 justification92 in the salvation93 of the State. The prestige of his name, and his fine statesmanship, could alone avert94 the civil war and anarchy95 which Bona’s government 153was leading to, and oppose a barrier to the greed of Venice and Naples for Lombardy. The deposition96 of a weak woman by a strong and able man was an act unsingular in a country where beneath all law and convention reigned97 the tacit conviction that character was the true legitimacy98. Once in power, he found that internal peace necessitated99 the sacrifice of the turbulent elements of which he had served himself to climb, and personal ingratitude became a public virtue79. Freed from the prepotence of these restless spirits, the citizens could pursue their occupations undisturbed, and the prince could devote himself to his great schemes for the improvement of agriculture, the facilitation of commerce and the humanising of the people. It is these things—in which he carried on the noblest tradition of the Sforza domination—which are the Moro’s apology for much wrong-doing; it is these and not his ceaseless political activity, and immense prestige as a statesman, which make the story of Milan great during his reign18, a period brilliant, joyous100 and prosperous beyond compare.
Though in title only regent for the young Duke, Lodovico was absolute sovereign. His extraordinary activity, resource and subtlety101, backed by the boundless wealth of Milan, soon made his influence felt abroad. For the first year or two his cares at home kept him from interfering102 much in general affairs. The balance of power in Italy, deprived of the weight of Milan, wavered in consequence, and Sixtus IV., Naples and Venice did their utmost to swallow up Florence. The safety of the great Tuscan Republic, secured partly by the courage and address of Lorenzo de’ Medici, but more by the timely knock of the Turk at the door of Italy, at Otranto, was further assured by the fast-rising power of the new ruler of Milan, who by uniting his State in 1484, in a fresh alliance with Florence 154and Naples, restored to Italy that equilibrium103 which had been first established by his great father, Francesco.
The eleven years that followed the Peace of Bagnolo (1484-95) were the most splendid in the history of medi?val Italy. They were the culmination104 of a great ascent105, preceding as great a downfall. Pressing upwards106 through the continual struggles, amid the phantoms107 and shadows of the earlier centuries, the chosen spirits of humanity had at last emerged upon a height, where, as in the light of unclouded morning, the whole world seemed spread out before and behind them, heaven itself within their reach, the gods themselves their fellows. In the general material prosperity out of which the fine flower of Italian civilisation108 in the Quattrocento had sprung, as in the cultured and artistic109 joy of life which was its highest expression, Milan, led by Lodovico Sforza, held a foremost place. Whatever may have been his secret motives110, this prince exerted himself ceaselessly to conceive and carry out projects of enduring benefit to the country. Summoning the greatest brains in Italy to his service, he set on foot immense hydraulic111 works, by means of which wildernesses112 were converted into fruitful tracts114, and new ways opened for the passage of merchandise and general traffic. He widened his father’s famous canal, the Naviglio Martesana, and the Naviglio encircling the city, employing the inventive genius of Leonardo da Vinci, to overcome the difficulty of the different levels by a system of locks, still existing in Milan to this day. He joined these canals with the ancient channel between Milan and Pavia, thus forming a navigable waterway between the Adda and the Ticino. Large districts hitherto unfertile owed their after prosperity to this enlightened ruler. He fostered agriculture, founding model farms and introducing improved breeds of cattle and horses. His pleasaunces and orchards115 round the Castello at Milan, 155and his country palaces and villas116 were so beautiful and fruitful that they were called earthly paradises. After a brief half century of the Sforza rule, the Duchy of Milan was become a vast garden, supporting an enormous population of hardworking peasants. Commerce flourished more than ever, every way being opened to it by wise and considerate measures. In the higher branches of industry the Moro’s vitalising interest and enthusiasm was as effective. His splendid patronage117 of art and letters made this city of prosperous traders the richest centre in Italy of the ?sthetic culture of the Renaissance118. Attracted by his liberality and large ideas, the rarest genius of the age was at his command. Bramante of Urbino spent many years at Milan, building cupolaed temples and colonnaded119 palaces, and transforming the old medi?val city of the Visconti into the fair Renaissance vision of the Moro’s desire. For Lodovico and for Milan, Leonardo da Vinci did his greatest works. Perugino painted for the Moro the splendid Madonna with the Archangels, now in the National Gallery, and in the stimulating120 atmosphere a number of native artists of considerable distinction sprang up. Lodovico equally favoured men of letters and scientific inquirers. He invited them to Milan, and gave them great rewards, and did his utmost by grants and personal care to raise the University of Pavia and the schools founded at Milan by Galeazzo to a flourishing condition.
CANAL, VIA SAN MARCO
156But the merits of the Moro’s government were obscured to the people by his tyrannic methods. The peasants, groaning121 under the oppression of forced labour and of heavy and unjustly distributed taxation122, were too preoccupied123 by their immediate grievances124 to care for the rich harvest which would ensue some day from the sacrifice of their sweat and their scanty125 gains. In their belief the Prince sought only self-glorification and the increase of the already fabulous126 ducal treasure. Their simple lamentations sound in the pages of the chroniclers like a dull threatening undertone in that wonderful symphony of rich and various instruments which the life of the Milanese Court was at this time.
157
CANONICA OF ST. AMBROGIO
One of the worst characteristics of a tyrant127 was, however, conspicuously128 absent in Lodovico Sforza. He was not cruel. Galeazzo’s horrible ways of enforcing the law no longer prevailed. The gallows129 vanished; fragments of quartered traitors131 adorned133 the gates no more, and such pains as justice or policy necessitated were administered out of the sight and, if possible, knowledge of the Moro. Even Guicciardini describes the Moro as mild and merciful. The sight of bodily suffering hurt his fastidious delicacy134, his love of fair and seemly appearance, his fine sensibilities. His shrinking from blood was perhaps a sign of what may explain much that seems dark in his history—fear; of the decadence135 which fatally awaits races risen too swiftly to greatness. However that may be, his mildness did not win the hearts of the people for a sovereign who addressed them from behind the protection of iron bars and never admitted them to free and friendly audience. An ever-widening gulf136 divided their lives of elemental want and passion from the exquisite137 existence of subtle and various delight within the impassable 158walls of the Castello. It was for the Moro, we remember, that Leonardo sketched138 the plans of an ideal city, with an upper system of streets in which the sovereign and his chosen society of nobles and courtiers might pass, uncontaminated by the breath and odour of the multitudes below.
To the princes of the Quattrocento the people were but the necessary foundation of existence, ‘the mud on which proud man is built.’ And how incomparable was the fair fabric139, so based, and composed of all the rarest elements of life. The story of the Moro’s Court is well-known to English readers. The joyous figures that peopled it are familiar to us, and the gorgeous pageants140, the processions of princes and potentates143 and fair ladies, the stupendous display of wealth and beauty, the tourneys, feasts and dances, are tales oft told in biography and romance. In 1489 the long arranged marriage of the young Duke with Isabella of Aragon, granddaughter of King Ferrante of Naples, was celebrated144 with extraordinary pomp, and two years later the festivities were renewed for the double nuptials145 of the Regent himself with Beatrice da Este, daughter of the Duke of Ferrara, and of her brother Alfonso, heir-apparent of Ferrara, with Anna Sforza, sister of Gian Galeazzo. All these splendours were far overpassed, however, in 1493, when the Moro’s diplomacy146 was rewarded by an imperial alliance for the House of Sforza, and Bianca Maria, the Duke’s remaining sister, rode forth10 from the Castello in a chariot of gold to her marriage with the Emperor Maximilian. The imagination reels with the descriptions of the rich robes and jewels, the pavilions and triumphal arches, the garlands, the blazoned147 hangings, the allegorical masques, the noise of music and of applauding crowds on these occasions. One would feel that Milan must have suffered an intolerable surfeit148 of colour and delight, did we not know 159that the gorgeous riot was shaped into symmetry and order by the supreme decorative149 taste of the Italian Quattrocento. All the beautiful neo-pagan conceits150, the new vision of the gods of Olympus granted to that age, inspired these brief spectacles. Leonardo—Bramante—fashioned those gorgeous edifices151 of an hour, built up that wonderful seeming, ephemeral as the glories which it celebrated, and stayed those passing moments for ever in the history of the world.
Though it was the desire to outdo every other princely M?cenas which impelled152 Lodovico to bid highest for the services of great artists and scholars, it was not merely his liberality which held such a man as Leonardo at Milan, but rather his large appreciation154, his sympathy with great and original ideas, his rare wisdom in leaving genius free to work in its own way. He had this, moreover, in common with that unique among the sons of the Italian Renaissance, that he, too, was a far seeker and the designer of things never to be finished. Leonardo came to Milan about 1483. There exists a copy, apparently155 in his own handwriting, of a letter recommending himself to the Moro, in which he enumerates156 all his qualifications for employment, beginning with his skill in the invention of military engines, and ending with his capacity to carry out any work in sculpture or painting as well as any other man, be he who he may. Vasari tells us that on his arrival in Milan he offered Lodovico a silver lute53 which he had fashioned himself in the form of a horse’s head, and in such a manner that in beauty and sonority157 of tone it surpassed every other instrument at the Court, and that the prince quickly became enamoured of his admirable gifts and conversation. The more intimate knowledge of the man revealed in his own notebooks has, however, changed the traditional picture of Leonardo as a fine 160courtier and brilliant wit and conversationalist, the centre of attraction at the Court, enjoying great revenues from the Moro and dissipating them in splendid living. We see him, instead, secluded158 with his pupils in the pleasant home which Lodovico gave him on the outskirts159 of the city, beside the Castello gardens, poring over some problem of construction or hydrostatics, striving to create a flying-machine or other novel engine. Or passing rapidly, according to his mood, from modelling the great horse to his painting in the refectory of Sta. Maria della Grazie, or tracing the exquisite contours of those beautiful favourites of the Moro, Cecilia Gallerani and her successor, Lucrezia Crivelli, mocked and allured160 in each shadowy face by that inscrutable smile of woman in which the secret of life seemed to hide itself. He evidently cared little to mingle161 with the social life of the Court, where perhaps he was neither able nor willing to express to a circle, alive to intellectual interests but enslaved by pedantry162 and charlatanism163, those occult thoughts which even in his writings he hid in left-handed hieroglyphics164. Yet he must have been a familiar presence in the palace, where he was constantly summoned for some work which to us seems strangely disproportioned to his genius—the arrangement of the water-supply for the Duchess’s bath, the designing of triumphal arches for a wedding pageant141, or the costumes and accessories of some spectacular joust165. Whatever it was, he did it with the interest of one for whom there is no great nor small, and for whom a moment as much as countless166 centuries holds eternity167, and little things and big manifest alike the divine law of necessity.
Leonardo’s figure overshadows for us all others of Lodovico il Moro’s Milan. There were many others besides him, however, of highest reputation at the time in the chosen circle of the Court. The Moro, in his 161care for the intellectual improvement of his subjects, imported poets from Tuscany to teach them the art of composing sonnets168. Ancient prejudice against all things Lombard withheld169 many of Leonardo’s countrymen from accepting the Sforza’s offers of honours and emoluments170. But the sunshine of Court favour, come whence it might, was greedily accepted by the Florentine Bernardo Bellincione, whose gift for stringing together appropriate and flattering verses secured him the position of Court poet for many years at Milan. Nor could any small local passion restrain that bare-boned vagabond genius, Antonio Camelli—called il Pistoia after his native city—from quenching171 his perennial172 famine at the ducal table. But though he played the fool to amuse his patrons, il Pistoia was of much rarer stuff than Bellincione. Behind his cloak of buffoonery the tragedy of a serious and prophetic spirit hid itself, and a fine satire174 inspired the sallies of his fantastic muse173. An irrepressible sonneteer, he poured forth streams of verse at Milan. A number of his sonnets allude175 to the politics of the day, and are of great interest.
These professors of poesy were very successful in propagating their art in Milan. Francesco Tanzi, one of the many versifiers at Court, declared that after the example of Bellincione, Milan was full of sonnets, and all the rivers and canals ran with the water of Parnassus. The poetic176 frenzy had invaded the whole of society, so that every young knight177 who desired the favour of ladies and princes had needs be skilled in making rhymes and improvising178 to the music of his lute. A flourishing school of poetry rewarded the Moro’s patronage and encouragement, and its most distinguished179 graduates were young nobles of the first rank—Gaspare Visconte, of the same stock as the old ducal House, and Antonio di Campo Fregoso, of a famous Genoese House. A 162singer of older and still higher repute in the ducal circle was that mirror of the graceful180 and cultured chivalry181 of the day, Niccolò da Correggio, who as the son of Beatrice da Este, wife of Tristan Sforza, was constantly at Milan, in devoted182 attendance upon his cousin, the younger Beatrice da Este. Marchesino Stanza183, Girolamo Tuttavilla, Galeazzo di San Severino, Galeotto di Caretto, a lettered noble and chronicler of Montferrato, all swelled185 the tuneful choir186. The Moro himself is said to have included sonnet-making among his myriad187 activities. Around these distinguished figures hovered188 a host of lyrists of various rank and accomplishment189, both natives and pilgrims attracted from afar to this now famous shrine190 of the Muses191. Men of other occupations added their voices in moments of leisure. Among these was Bramante, who, in the intervals192 of his labours as architect, engineer, painter and master of revels193, competed eagerly for the laurel wreath.
The chief theme of their song, and the object of the gallant194 adoration195 and service of all, was the younger Beatrice da Este, who at fifteen came to Milan to be the Moro’s bride. To this child of tuneful Ferrara, trained from childhood upwards in all the ?sthetic traditions of its famous Court, an atmosphere of poetry, music and art was as natural as the air she breathed. With that full and eager vitality196 which she shared with her father, Duke Ercole, and her sister, Isabella of Mantua, she sought all beautiful and joyous things. In the Court of her rich and indulgent lord she could satisfy every desire. For the rich equipment of her person and her surroundings she had the rarest talent at her command. Leonardo da Vinci devised curious girdles for her. That finest of goldsmiths, Caradosso, carved the beautiful gems197 which she wore, and spent his most delicate workmanship on pax or reliquary for her oratory198. To create her presentment 163in marble she could choose a Gian Cristoforo Romano, most cultured and graceful of young sculptors199. Her love of sweet melody was fed by the crowd of skilled musicians who frequented this Court, where their art was traditionally welcome. Besides the Flemish priest Cordier, and the other ultramontane singers of Duke Galeazzo’s celebrated choir, there were here the viol player, Jacopo di San Secondo—the Apollo of Raphael’s Parnassus—whose strains were able to soothe200 the Moro in moments of fever and pain, Atalante Migliorotti, the friend and companion of Leonardo, and others numberless, nameless to us now. An incomparable craftsman201, Lorenzo di Pavia, made instruments for her of purest tone, in cases of ivory and ebony most exquisitely202 worked. She played herself upon these, and had a sweet voice. Many a time with her devoted knight, Galeazzo di San Severino, model of all fashionable graces, and himself an accomplished203 singer, and her favourite Daino, most musical and delightful204 of fools, she and her ladies would make harmonious205 concert. As became a daughter of Este, Beatrice extended a princely patronage to scholarship and serious literature. Her secretary, the learned Vincenzo Calmeta, tells us that she engaged men suitably gifted to read aloud to her the Divina Commedia and the works of other Italian poets. She would give serious attention to literary debates, such as the lively poetic contention206 we read of between Bramante and Gaspare Visconte, on the respective merits of Dante and Petrarca.
Such encounters of sharp-sworded wit, so much in vogue207 at that time, were conducted at Milan with less pedantry and self-conceit than in Courts ruled by more strictly208 humanistic traditions. A freedom, gaiety and freshness animated209 the intellectual atmosphere here. The Moro’s extraordinary activity of mind and wide interests, Beatrice’s ardour, and capacity for enjoyment210, 164fired all around them. The Duchess’s eagerness for culture was tempered by her love of sport and outdoor life. Her hawks211 and her hounds were a primary passion in this Ferrarese princess, and many a fair morning was passed in adventurous chase of the wild creatures in her husband’s vast hunting demesnes. She was a splendid horsewoman, and had unbounded courage. The lively sports in which she indulged with her ladies and cavaliers were not always of a refined order. The gaiety of the fifteenth century was ministered to by jests and practical jokes of incredible coarseness, and by all the obscenities of the allowed fools and monstrosities of nature who capered212 in grotesquely213 brilliant garb214 round every Renaissance princess. Yet into this full life the Duchess herself carried a redeeming215 innocence216. In spite of her free intercourse217 with the young nobles, no lightest shadow ever rested on her fair fame.
The society in which she passed her bright, pure existence had, however, but lately had Galeazzo Maria for leader and example, and had forgotten all moral restrictions218. When Beatrice came first to Milan she found her husband’s mistress, the beautiful poetess Cecilia Gallerani, installed in the palace itself. The whole of Milan was rotten beneath its fine vestures and its art and learning. Wealth and luxury had encouraged the love of pleasure natural in the people, and the ideal of freedom in thought and manners, the search for novel experience and sensation, the worship of the new old gods, born of the revived knowledge of antiquity219, had induced immorality220 and corruption221 more than elsewhere in this city where voluptuous222 tastes were not restrained, as in the Florentines, by natural temperance. Everywhere in the midst of the joyous revels lust47 and evil passions were heaping up sins ready for the retribution to come. Corio, an eyewitness223 165of these times, preludes224 his story of the great catastrophe225 by a vivid picture, adorned by the fashionable pagan conceits, of Milanese life during these years before the fatal 1495, when it seemed to the city and its Lord that everything was more firmly established in peace than ever before. No one thought of other than accumulating riches. Pomps and pleasures ruled the hours. The Court of our princes was splendid exceedingly, full of new fashions, dresses and delights. Nevertheless, at this time virtue was so much lauded226 on every side that Minerva had set up great rivalry227 with Venus, and each sought to make her school the most brilliant. To that of Cupid came the most beautiful youths. Fathers yielded to it their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers their sisters, and so thoughtlessly did they thus flock to the amorous228 hall that it was reckoned a stupendous thing by those who had understanding. Minerva, she too, sought with all her might to adorn132 her gentle Academy. Wherefore that glorious and most illustrious Prince Lodovico Sforza had called into his pay—as far as from the uttermost parts of Europe—men most excellent in knowledge and art. Here was the learning of Greece, here Latin verse and prose flourished resplendently, here were the poetic Muses; hither the masters of the sculptor’s art and those foremost in painting had gathered from distant countries, and here songs and sweet sounds of every kind and such dulcet229 harmonies were heard, that they seemed to have descended230 from Heaven itself upon this excelling Court.
We who know the after days of Milan watch the golden hours gliding231 by towards the darkness ahead, and the glory centring round the two doomed232 figures of Lodovico and Beatrice is pregnant for us with tragedy and grief. Corio continues with a description of these princes, in this so vain felicity, passing their time in divers234 pleasures, and speaks of the magnificent jousts235 and 166tournaments and military shows, and of the homage236 paid by the poets to the Moro as Lord both of war and peace. Yet, he adds, with all this glory, pomp and wealth, which seemed as though nothing could be added to it, Lodovico, not content, or unaware237 of his felicity, must needs reach higher still, that his fall might be the greater. And the chronicler, preparing himself to compose the cruel and unheard-of tale, fears that compassion238 will not suffer him to arrive at the piteous end without tears.
The Moro’s power was in fact unstably239 based. His was the right of natural ability to rule. But beside him the lawful240 sovereign had grown to manhood during these years. Gian Galeazzo Sforza—the engaging little boy reading Cicero in Bramantino’s fresco241, now in the Wallace Collection—showed with advancing years little desire or capacity to govern. Amiable242, weakly, and self-indulgent, he was perfectly243 content to leave the power to his uncle, for whom he had a love and admiration which are a touching244 element in the relationship of the two men—usurper64 and legitimate245 prince. Had they only been concerned, the Moro’s peculiar difficulties might never have arisen. He seems to have regarded himself sincerely at first as the vicegerent of his nephew. Dum vivis tutus et laetus vivo. Gaude, fili, protector tuus ero semper. These words, in the mouth of nephew and uncle, are the motto on a miniatured page in the History of Francesco Sforza, by Gio. Simonetta, printed in 1490. The picture shows Lodovico and Gian Galeazzo kneeling on the edge of a lake; in the midst of the water a ship with a youth in it and a Moor at the helm, and in the background a mulberry-tree (moro) spreading wide branches. This allegory—one of many such that we read of—may have expressed some real affection as well as self-exaltation in Lodovico, though after-events give it a strange irony246.
167But the respective marriages of the two princes introduced another element into the situation. Beatrice da Este was not only the joyous spirit of festival and sport and all artistic delight, but a woman of strong character and intelligence. She quickly gained influence over her husband, and asserted herself in State affairs. The very narrowness of her youth and sex gave her power over the complex and wide-minded Moro, who adored her spirit and courage, and yielded to her as his great sire Francesco had yielded to Bianca Maria. Beatrice wanted the semblance247 as well as the substance of sovereignty, and the birth of her son, in 1492, added the new ambition of a mother to her desire. Isabella of Aragon, on her side, had a royal spirit; her soul swelled with rage and offended pride when the regent showed no intention of relinquishing248 the government to her husband. In vain she urged Gian Galeazzo to assume his rights; her exhortations249 only passed straight from the confiding250 boy into Lodovico’s ears. Her sense of wrong was further exasperated251 by Beatrice, who usurped252 the homage and consequence which should have been Isabella’s as consort253 of the sovereign. The rivalry between the princesses began very soon after Beatrice’s appearance on the scene, and that playful boxing-match of which we read, in which the Duchess of Bari knocked down her of Milan, was the symbol of a contest which involved fatal issues reaching far beyond the two women themselves.
Influenced by his wife’s ambition, and the birth of his son—also perhaps by the impossibility, when the hour came, of relinquishing the sweets of power and sacrificing his vast projects and the fruits of his past incessant254 labours to the claim of mere153 primogeniture represented by the feeble and already failing Gian Galeazzo—Lodovico was evidently scheming, after 1490, to make himself Duke of Milan. From the time of the Moro’s marriage 168the ceremonial homage which had been paid till then to the young Duke was gradually lessened255. The tutelage which had been proper in his boyhood was now used to emphasize his incapacity. No single office or dignity was at his disposal. Ministers of State, captains of fortresses257, generals and magistrates258, all were appointed by Lodovico. At no point did his subjects come into contact with their real sovereign. He was dependent for all supplies upon the Moro, who kept absolute control of the immense Sforza treasure. The birth of his heir was but scantily259 celebrated, while that of Lodovico’s a little later was made the occasion of the most pompous260 rejoicings. The halls of the sovereigns in the Corte Ducale were gradually deserted261, while Lodovico and Beatrice’s apartments in the Rocchetta were thronged262. The self-seeking courtiers knew well where their devotion was most profitably placed. Besides, it was melancholy263 in the chambers264 of a sickly prince and a sad princess ever brooding over her wrongs. The two appeared less and less in public, and finally retired266 altogether to the Castle of Pavia, and their pathetic figures were almost forgotten on the joyous stage of Milanese life.
But they existed—a constant menace to the Moro, a weapon for his thousand enemies in the State, and for jealous Italy outside. Isabella’s piteous complaints to her grandfather, whom she implored267 to right her husband, inflamed268 the long-standing Aragonese hatred269 of the Sforza. The other powers—Venice, baulked in her greed of conquest by the strong hand of the Moro, and ever nervous for the cities which she had wrested270 from Milan in Filippo Maria’s time; Pope Alexander VI., who allowed no gratitude66 to the Sforza, although through Cardinal271 Ascanio they had been the means of his election, to interfere272 with his schemes for a new Borgian Italy; Florence, politically and commercially 169jealous of the Lombard State—all would have gladly seen the Moro overthrown273 and Milan depressed274.
During these years of peace and of expansion for Milan, the suspicious fear with which the disproportionate prosperity of one power was always regarded by the rest of Italy had concentrated itself upon Lodovico Sforza. His extraordinary success and untiring activity, his powers of intrigue30, his ability and resource, were the theme of every tongue. The extravagant275 adulations of his Court poets were repeated and unwillingly277 credited throughout Italy. With the vast wealth of Milan at his command what might he not do? Fear of Milan was an old habit. Was it she that should give Italy a master after all? Was this dark prince, mysteriously potent142, to be the destroyer of her liberty at last?
Had men looked more closely into the monster of their imagination, they might have perceived that it was not Lodovico’s ambition that was most to be apprehended278. The fatal situation which now developed seems to have been the product of two opposing fears. The Moro’s faith in himself and in his good fortune was a superstition279 which supported itself upon the lying prophecies of the astrologer ever at his side, and was at the mercy of every ill omen27. His intrigues were often the devices of a man on the defensive280, rather than the confident moves of a conqueror281. To give a colour of justification to his now almost complete usurpation, he set casuists to work and evolved a specious282 doctrine283, pronouncing himself lawful successor of his father, as the first son born to Francesco after he became Duke of Milan. By means of this argument, and the better persuasion42 of an enormous gift of gold, he obtained from the Emperor Maximilian the promise of the investiture of the Duchy, an obsolete284 legality which neither Francesco or Galeazzo had troubled to 170obtain in confirmation285 of the right won by the sword. These devices, however, aroused only derision and scandal in his own country, nor could they quiet his own uneasy mind. He felt Italy against him and was afraid. His particular dread286 of the House of Aragon never slept. Though old King Ferrante urged with pathetic sincerity287 the maintenance of the league which had preserved the peace of Italy for so many fortunate years, he might at any moment be succeeded by Alfonso of Calabria, who did not disguise his hatred of the Moro and his longing288 to right his daughter and son-in-law. Lorenzo de’ Medici had died in 1491, and peace was already threatened by the injudicious policy of his son Piero. The covetousness289 of Venice, the faithless selfishness of the Pope, completed a situation of general peril290, which might easily beget291 a great combination to crush Lodovico and reinstate Gian Galeazzo, to be followed by a scramble292 for the States which all knew the young Duke incapable293 of governing.
The Moro resolved to anticipate the blow. With fatal confidence in his power to control the force which he was evoking294, he opened the gate which it was Milan’s sacred duty to keep shut against the foreigner. He invited Charles VIII. of France to lead an army into Italy against the Princes of Aragon, and to recover the Kingdom of Naples for the House of Anjou.
Lodovico’s act did not perhaps at the time wear the magnitude of guilt81 which subsequent events gave it. Italy was so disunited, so lacking in any general principle of patriotism295 that her various tyrants296 had not scrupled298 to appeal at times to France or the Empire in their needs. Men were used to sporadic299 attempts of the Princes of Anjou to overthrow20 the Aragonese dynasty in Naples. But now that the Angevin claims were vested in the King of France, such attempts must be more perilous300 for Italy. Naples was not the 171only State to which France had pretensions301. Louis of Orleans—next in succession to the throne of France after the sickly Charles and his infant son—claimed the Duchy of Milan itself through his ancestress Valentina Visconte. The success of the French enterprise in Naples could scarcely fail to be followed by a vindication302 of this other claim. Nothing but that strange and fatal belief in himself, which not only inspired Lodovico but had infected his contemporaries, could have blinded the Moro to the madness of his proceedings303 and induced Venice, Florence and the Pope to abet304 his projects at first by forming a new league with him and abandoning Naples to its fate. There was some strange glamour305 about this remarkable306 man which deluded307 his own generation. The Renaissance spirit felt itself represented and fulfilled in him. Its boundless confidence in human possibilities was exemplified by the reputation of almost superhuman powers with which it invested Lodovico Sforza. God in Heaven and the Moro on earth, so dared il Pistoia to sing, and the prince to hear. The tragic308 fall which awaited this exaltation is a part of the inward as well as outward history of an age when pride built so high, only to be smitten309 with incompleteness. Strangest of all, perhaps, was the self-deception of Lodovico himself, shown by the persistence310 in him, throughout his hopeless captivity, of this superstitious311 faith, after it had utterly312 failed him in the crisis of his life, so that in his last moments, in his prison at Loches, he could attribute his overthrow to nothing less than the direct intervention313 of God, to punish him for his sins, since only the sudden might of destiny, he said, could have subverted314 the counsels of human wisdom.
In inviting315 Charles, Lodovico doubtless thought to produce a temporary diversion, which should weaken Naples and produce a political upheaval, amid which 172he should be able to secure the ducal throne, and once seated in it, readjust by adroit316 diplomacy, the balance of power in the peninsula after the retirement317 of the invader318 in due course. But he had left out of account the respective conditions of France and Italy—the pent-up military fury in the noble classes in the first country, which raged for an outlet319, the fatal weakness of disunion in the second, and the enervation320 which peace and unparalleled prosperity had produced in its people. He may have hoped to achieve his ends by the mere threat of French invasion, and counted on the indecision of the young king and his own subtle craft to keep the matter from going any further. Charles, however, whose weak head swam with the flatteries of venal321 councillors, and with romantic ideas imbibed322 from the tales of the Paladins, was easily persuaded to undertake the conquest of Naples as a preliminary step to the redemption of Christendom from the Turk.
But the preparations for the expedition were very dilatory323, and more than two years passed before they were completed. During this time of suspense324 Italy was full of doubts and fears. Lodovico’s allies began to hesitate, and there were daily shiftings of policy in the various States, now in favour of Naples, now of France, all actuated by self-interest, which guided them finally in this crisis of their country’s fate to a despicable neutrality, waiting upon events. The Moro’s own policy was shifting and tortuous325, even displaying at times an anxiety—little credited by his neighbours—to save Naples from the catastrophe which he himself was bringing upon her. Already he was working for a reaction against the French in the event of their success in Italy. But his advances to the opposite party won for him only the distrust of his friends, and in France many warned Charles of the 173folly of relying upon this man, homme sans foy, s’il voyoit son profit pour la rompre, as Commines pronounces him.
Meanwhile, careless apparently of the future, Italy continued her wild dance of pleasure. In Milan, gaiety and licence reigned supreme. Yet there are many signs that a sense of sin and of a reckoning at hand had begun to awaken326. The sonnets of il Pistoia grew grave with prophecies to laughing Italy of the much weeping which time would soon draw from her, and of the shortness of the hours between her and her immense, irreparable sorrow. The superstitious Moro himself must have been shaken by the blind friar who is said to have appeared in the Piazza327 of Milan at the time of his negotiations328 with the French King, crying—Prince, show him not the way, else thou wilt329 repent330 it. From Florence came the echo of Savonarola’s annunciation, Gladius Domini super terram cito et velociter. More poignant331 still to ears that could hear was the tremulous voice of the octogenarian King of Naples, warning Pope and Moro, again and again, of the peril clear to the terrible prevision of the dying—He who will may begin a war, but stop it, no!
But the voices cried in the wilderness113. King Ferrante’s was spent by death early in 1494, and in the following autumn Charles appeared at last at the head of a splendid host, and was welcomed with immense pomp and revelry by Lodovico and Beatrice at Pavia. There in the Castle the young Duke lay dying. The King visited him, and the piteous spectacle roused the sympathy of the monarch332 and his followers333, for whom the person of legitimate sovereignty had a sacredness unfelt by the Italians. Charles was, however, much embarrassed by the Duchess Isabella, who besought334 him to have mercy on her father, the King of Naples. She had better have prayed for herself, who was still a young and fair lady, observes Commines.
174The invaders335 passed on, finding their path cleared before them, and their progress already an assured triumph. Their cruelty when they had first entered the country had terrified all inclination336 to oppose them out of the Italians. Piero de’ Medici’s shameful337 surrender, Florence’s welcome, the inactivity of the Pope, the speedy fall of Naples, all the details of the pitiful story are well-known. Charles had not gone far when Gian Galeazzo died. The cruel report at once arose, and was widely believed by both French and Italians, that Lodovico had had him poisoned, and the Moro’s memory has come down to our day loaded with this detestable sin. Modern inquiry338 has, however, shown how little foundation there is for the charge, disproving the preliminary accusations339 against Lodovico of starving and ill-treating the ducal couple, and making it clear that Gian Galeazzo was surrounded by physicians and carefully tended. It is evident that Lodovico’s temperament340 was incapable of such a crime—that he would have been repelled341 by the mere idea of murdering this nephew whom he had brought up, and who loved him with a pathetic fidelity342 to the last. Gian Galeazzo’s longing on his death-bed for the uncle, who was far away, riding in splendour beside the French King, his touching questions to one of Lodovico’s gentlemen whether he thought his Excellency the Moro li volesse bene—loved him, Gian Galeazzo—and whether he seemed sorry that he was ill, go far to dissipate the cruel suspicion. Nevertheless, the young Duke’s death relieved Lodovico’s conscience of its last scruple297 with regard to the Dukedom. He hastened back to Milan and had himself invested with the ducal mantle343, cap and sceptre, in the midst of a stupendous pomp.
Meanwhile, the success of the French was producing the result anticipated by the Moro. Venice, 175awaking to the danger which the terrible prestige of the conqueror’s arms meant for all Italy, was ready to listen to Lodovico’s proposals for a remedy. The invaders were now to add to their experience of Italian pusillanimity344 an acquaintance with the craft which had superseded345 brute346 courage in this advanced nation. Scarcely had the French King turned his back on Lombardy, when the Venetian ambassadors were treating with the new Duke of Milan for an alliance against him. A few months later, Charles and his knights347, sick with the Southern delights of their newly-conquered realm, and longing like homesick children for France, found their return barred by a powerful coalition348 of their late ally with Venice, the Emperor, the King of Spain, and nearly all the minor349 States of Italy. The story of their homeward march, more like a flight, need not be repeated here. At the approach of the French to his dominions350, the faithless Lodovico trembled in his palace, in spite of the mighty351 host of allies which was awaiting them, while his people, beside themselves with fear of the cruel Northerners, and exasperated by the grievous taxation imposed upon them to oppose this evil which the Moro had himself provoked, murmured against him as the murderer of Gian Galeazzo, and the oppressor of the widowed Duchess and her son. Lodovico well knew that he could not lean upon his subjects in adversity. But the battle of Fornuovo (1495) relieved Lombardy of all fear of the French for the time, though the Italians let slip their chance of annihilating352 the hungry and enfeebled enemy, and crushing the Northern terror for ever. The irresistible353 conqueror of a year back, having with miraculous354 good fortune escaped with the best part of his troops to Asti, was compelled to negotiate for peace with Milan and Venice. At the meetings of the Duke and the 176Venetian Ambassadors with the representatives of Charles, Lodovico was accompanied by his young wife, who took part in all the discussions, and astonished everybody by her intelligence and wisdom. All through this critical period of the French invasion, Beatrice was the true helpmeet of her husband, sustaining by her courage and will his more sensitive temperament under the fears and doubts which assailed355 it.
Peace at last concluded, the French finally made their way home, leaving so weak a hold on Naples that the Aragonese quickly reinstated themselves. In the universal joy at the disappearance356 of the invaders it appeared to all that the Moro had saved Italy. His prestige, of late clouded, was now more brilliant than ever. Securely seated on the ducal throne, strong in the new alliance in which his initiative had bound Italy, he seemed indeed to have succeeded in all his calculations and schemes. Those seeds of future danger—the fatal knowledge of Italy’s weakness, which the French had acquired, the declaration of the Duke of Orleans, that he should return to conquer his rightful heritage of Milan—were unheeded. In his new exaltation the Moro vaunted himself the child of fortune, and believed himself to be, as astrologers, poets, courtiers, ambassadors told him, arbiter357 of the destinies of Italy, and incarnation of almost divine wisdom and prudence358. He put his trust more and more in destiny, and prompted by his venal astrologer, Ambrogio da Rosate, thought to read in the stars his triumph. As if blinded by the gods in preparation for the sacrifice, he passed all bounds in his arrogance. The old jealousy359 and distrust of his fellow-sovereigns now revived with new force. His jester’s vainglorious360 trumpeting—the Pope is my chaplain, Venice my treasurer361, the Emperor my chamberlain, and the King of France my courier, was repeated in every city of Europe, as if Lodovico himself had seriously spoken it. The many guests at the Castello of Milan told everywhere of the painting on the walls there, depicting362 Italy as a queen, and the Moro, with a scoppetta—his personal emblem—brushing the dust from her robes, whereon were inscribed363 the different Italian cities. These boasts of exaggerated self-confidence rankled364 in his contemporaries. But while they hated him, they feared him too. More than ever now all Italy waited upon his motions.
LODOVICO IL MORO, BY BOLTRAFFIO (TRIVULZIO COLLECTION)
To face p. 176.] ???? [Anderson, Rome
177The months that followed the conclusion of peace with Charles were joyous beyond compare. In the summer of this year (1496) the Duke and Duchess had a meeting with the Emperor, and returned loaded with honours, which added a new lustre365 to Lodovico’s fame.
Suddenly, at the height of his fortune, Fate struck her first blow at the Moro. Beatrice died (1497).
The golden days of Milan changed all at once to gloom. Silence shut down upon the dancing and sweet music. The Duke, to whom even his children and State seemed no longer worth living for, sat for nine days in a darkened chamber265 alone, refusing all comfort, while in Sta. Maria delle Grazie the monks366 chanted incessant masses for Beatrice’s soul. The Moro was overwhelmed. He who had ever lived happy, now began to feel great anguish367, says the Venetian Sanuti. The fabric of his dreams had crashed upon him. What were kingdoms to him without that clear-sighted and dauntless spirit at his side? Not only was his strong affection rent, but his profound faith in his good fortune was awfully368 shaken. As if the evil augury369 had to declare itself unmistakably, on the night of Beatrice’s death a large part of the walls of the vast pleasaunce which he had created round the Castello fell with a great crash, ruined by no storm or 178wind, or agency perceptible to human sense. From this moment, so much is man’s destiny affected23 by his own spirits, all Lodovico’s misfortunes began. He entered on that downward course which was to drag so much to ruin with it—and to the husband’s loss of the blessing370 of this Beatrice, the poet of the Italian Renaissance ascribes not only the fall of Moro, Sforza, and Visconte Snake together, but the captivity of Italy.
‘Beatrice bea, vivendo, il suo consorte,
E lo lascia infelice alla sua morte.
Anzi tutta Italia, che con6 lei
Fia trionfante e senza lei, captiva.’[3]
3. Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, canto371 xlii.
The gate which the Moro had thought to shut so easily upon the departed stranger was once more ajar. A second French expedition threatened Italy, and Milan in particular. Early in 1497, the great captain Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, head of the party in Milan hostile to the Sforza, and a bitter personal foe of the Moro, who had abandoned his country and was high in the French service, made a raid into the ducal dominions. At the same time his partisans stirred up the discontent of the people, and inspired their volatile372 minds with desire for a change of masters. And soon the League began to show its internal weakness. The interests of the two chief parties in it were fatally opposed. Venice found her designs on Pisa thwarted373 by Lodovico and in her rage began to ponder the advantages of making friends with the French. Out of the struggle for Naples now renewed between the French garrison and the Aragonese she might by a prudent374 policy, when both combatants were exhausted375, secure the sea-kingdom of the South, and might not a second descent of the French King, lasting376 long enough to overthrow the Sforza and no more, put rich Lombardy 179at last within her reach? With such hopes the grave senators flattered their ambition and forgot their faith to Italy. The Pope, for his own interests, had turned his back on the Sforza, and was parleying with the common foe, while in Florence the Frate and the people still looked to Charles for the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth and the restitution377 of Pisa.
The King, however, swayed by opposite counsels, let the months go by, and the Moro, with desperate trust in his own statesmanship, still hoped to save his Dukedom. In spite of his anxieties and embarrassments378, his unconquerable instinct of order maintained the fair aspect of his dominions. But on the great artistic projects of his triumphant379 days an arresting spell was laid. The resources of the State were exhausted in war and defensive preparations. The people were already taxed to rebellion, and no supplies were forthcoming for his painters and sculptors. Leonardo asked in vain for the bronze for casting the statue of Francesco Sforza. The clay model, raised in front of the Castello in 1493, on the occasion of Bianca Maria’s marriage with Maximilian, had remained there since, and it seemed more and more likely that this high thought of prince and artist combined would never take on any but an ephemeral form.
The brief, uneasy quiet was broken by a stroke of fate. Charles VIII. died suddenly (1498), and was succeeded by the Duke of Orleans. Louis XII. had no sooner ascended380 the throne than he announced his immediate intention of invading Milan.
Once more put to the trial, Italy proved again unfaithful to herself. And the pity of it was that the fault lay in her long-rooted political conditions, not in the will of the people. The sentiment of patriotism was strong in the country, and bon italiano was the current expression for one who hated and opposed the French. 180Yet it could not avail to overcome the conflict of interests among the different States, which was, after all, the blind continuous struggle of the national instinct, whether represented for the moment by Republic, hereditary381 tyrant or military usurper, towards the creation of a single and united kingdom. This time Venice was the arbiter of the situation. Answering the Moro’s piteous and self-humiliating appeals for help and protection only by cruel taunts382 of perfidy, the Republic concluded an alliance with the French (1498).
The Moro’s old disloyalties were now repaid to him tenfold. He looked round him in vain for a friend. The reward of usurpers and short tyrannic dynasties based on force, not love, met him in an alienated383 people, who refused to endure hardship or make sacrifices to save him, but looked instead to any change of government as desirable. His armies, composed chiefly of foreigners, were undisciplined and rebellious, serving only for pay. They were badly generaled by the Duke’s favourites. Lodovico, with all his ability, had little judgment73 in his choice of servants. He was led by his affections, which betrayed him. Chief among his trusted officers were the San Severini brothers—the Conte di Caiazzo, Galeazzo, famous champion of the tourney-lists, and the Moro’s son-in-law, and the gruff Gaspare, better known as Fracasso. They were the sons of Roberto di San Severino, but Lodovico had kept them always beside him and heaped honours and places upon them. Galeazzo, the prime favourite, had the chief command of his army. Francesco Bernardino Visconte, Antonio Maria Pallavicino, Antonio Trivulzio and the rest, all were alike unprepared in heart to sacrifice themselves for the sovereign in whose sunshine they had warmed themselves. The slight tie that bound together the various elements of the State could not endure against fear, ambition, greed and hereditary hate. The 181situation was further aggravated384 by the arrogance and exactions of the ducal favourites which excited the rage of the people and increased Lodovico’s unpopularity.
Events moved rapidly. In March 1499 the treaty between France, Venice and the Pope was publicly proclaimed. Louis was to conquer Milan, and Venice, as the price of assistance, was to share the spoils. Florence was nominally385 the Moro’s ally, but had neither means nor will to help him now. Naples was too weak to count, and Lodovico’s one friend, the unstable and spendthrift Maximilian, gave only empty promises. The Duke was left to make his desperate defence alone. In spite of his energetic preparations the presage386 of doom233 lay heavy on his soul, and affected all around him. He believed that Fortune, once his friend, was now contrary, and that God was angry with him.
In June the French army arrived in Asti, and immediately invaded the ducal territories. Every obstacle fell before them. Treachery and fear delivered castles and cities one after another into their hands. The Conte di Caiazzo made secret terms with them, and withdrew his troops from action. The rapid progress of the invaders brought them soon to the strong city of Alessandria, in which Galeazzo di San Severino and the main Milanese army lay to check their advance upon the capital itself. Here they met a promise of resistance, but the place had not been besieged387 many days when for some extraordinary and unexplained reason it was delivered to them. Some say that Galeazzo was seized with despair, others that he was deceived by a forged order to retire. Anyhow, one morning before daybreak he stole out with a few other nobles and galloped388 to Milan, and his army, when they found their general gone, incontinently fled in all directions.
No obstacle now remained between the enemy and 182Milan. With the same fatal spirit of despair which had undermined the whole defence, Lodovico gave himself up for lost. Though his great Castle at Milan was the strongest fortress256 in Europe, its garrison nearly three thousand, its artillery enormous in number and size, its munitions389 of war and all necessaries infinite, he could see no salvation except in abandoning the city and seeking aid in person from the Emperor. There may have been something of the instinct of bending before the storm in his decision. He knew that he could not hold the city, where the insurgent390 mob was already sacking the palaces of his favourites. If the citadel391 only stood firm, however, there was every chance of some revolution of the political wheel carrying him back before long. But blinded again by affection, he made a fatal mistake in his choice of a Castellan. In spite of many warnings he confided392 the entire command of the castle to one Bernardino da Corte, whom he had brought up from childhood and loaded with favours, charging him to guard it faithfully against the enemy, and promising393 to relieve him before three months were past.
Lodovico Sforza’s departure from the city which his father had won and he himself had ruled gloriously for many years; the tears and kisses with which he parted from his little motherless sons, sending them before him into Germany; his last visit, attended by weeping monks, to the tomb of his wife in Sta. Maria delle Grazie; his rapid ride out of the city next morning, after a night of fever and anguish, accompanied by a very few friends and followers, while the people’s cry changed from ‘Moro, Moro’ to ‘Franza, Franza,’ even as he passed—these things are all recorded with deep compassion by Corio, whose chronicle sadly concludes with this downfall of the House which he had served from boyhood.
183Behind Lodovico’s back, amid the flames and smoke of the burning palaces, the streets and squares broke out into a garish394 splendour of decoration to welcome his conqueror. Four days later Gian Giacomo Trivulzio rode in at the head of the French, amid the wild enthusiasm of the mob. The General, elated at his triumphant return to his native city, promised them anything and everything in the name of their rich, powerful, and all benign395 new master, the King of France. They believed that the millennium396 was come.
They soon learnt their mistake. Meanwhile, Fate had dealt the decisive blow to the domination of the Sforza. The rock of their fortunes, the impregnable Castello, provided by the extreme care and thought of the Moro with every necessary for a lengthy397 siege, was after a few days basely sold to the enemy by the traitor130 Castellan. On reception of the news in his distant retreat Lodovico is said to have remained as if mute, and to have finally uttered these words only—Since Judas was there never a greater traitor than Bernardino Curzio.
This condemnation398 was echoed by the whole world, and with especial emphasis by the French themselves, who were amazed at such treachery and cowardice400. But the Castellan was not the only traitor. Bernardino Fr. Visconte and others of Lodovico’s great ministers were his accomplices401, and partakers of the spoil. Hardly was the old master gone, ere they bent402 before the new. Louis XII. followed his army in person to Milan, and entered in great state, wearing the ducal beretta, and greeted by the same artistic demonstrations403 of joy and loyalty404 as had so often celebrated the pompous occasions of the Moro’s rule. After a short stay he departed to France, leaving Trivulzio as governor, an imprudent choice, which inflamed the old faction405 spirit. Most of the nobles were Trivulzio’s hereditary enemies. They began at once to scheme 184his overthrow, aided by the French guards, who could not bear to see Gian Giacomo preferred before them to such high place. In the populace discontent soon reawakened. They found themselves in worse case than before. Their master was different, but the taxes remained the same, and in addition they had to endure the cruelties and excesses of the French troops. The partisans of the Sforza worked insidiously406 upon their minds and excited them to cries of ‘Moro, Moro,’ once again. The city seethed407 with intrigue and sedition408. Every day tumults409 arose, and the brave Trivulzio, beset410 with snares411 and embarrassments, tried vainly with his frank methods and simple soldier’s choler to rule this mass of conflicting passions, greeds, sufferings and cunning ambitions.
While the way was thus being prepared in Milan for his restoration, Lodovico, in his exile at Innsbrück, was using every means to accomplish it, even to the desperate expedient412 of inciting413 the Turk to attack the Venetian State. At the same time he gathered together a strong body of Swiss and German mercenaries, and prepared to start for Italy as soon as he learnt from his friends in Milan that the moment was come. The French strength in the Duchy had been greatly diminished by the departure of large detachments for Naples and the Romagna, when the report ran through Milan that the Moro was come back and had retaken Como (1500). The whole city was immediately in an uproar414, and the mob surged round the palace of the governor, who, after vainly endeavouring to quiet them, was forced to hide from their insults and threats. A few days later he left Milan. Immediately after, Lodovico’s forerunners415, Cardinal Ascanio and two of the San Severini, rode in at the head of four thousand Swiss. Messer Galeazzo, flowering once more in the sunshine of his Lord’s success, had arrayed himself all in white, 185with a great feather on his head, and a pair of shoes on his feet much more fitted for the service of Venus than of Mars, as a sarcastic416 chronicler observes. The Duke himself followed a day later and re-entered his capital in state. But his triumph was only apparent. The Castello was now the bulwark417 of his enemy. It stood with its huge bastions and vast squares of parapets furnished with a thousand engines of war, frowning over the defenceless city. Even as the Moro paced in stately procession through the streets the bells rang out, and a terrified cry arose that the French had sallied from the fortress. The Duke was not strong enough to attempt its reduction, and unwilling276 to face the constant peril of its presence, he left the city, which he was never to see again, and removed to Pavia.
The same sickness of doubt, indecision and fear, the same presentiment418 of failure which had attended the Moro for so long, now seemed to attack this great adventure for the redemption of his fortunes. He neglected to strike a decisive blow at the French before they could be reinforced, and contented419 himself with retaking a few cities with as little shedding of blood as possible. In vain Fracasso and his bolder captains exhorted420 him to more energetic steps. His fierce Swiss mercenaries, to whom he refused the satisfaction of sacking the conquered towns, grew violent and rebellious. His treasury421 was exhausted, nor could all the expedients422 of Cardinal Ascanio in Milan, even the appropriation423 of the treasure of the Duomo and the other great churches, raise enough money to content the voracious424 Swiss, of whom new hosts were continually swarming425 into the city on their way to the camp, clamouring for employment and pay. The citizens, terrified by these rude allies, squeezed of every penny to supply the Duke’s necessities, found their plight426 worse than ever. Hearing of the great reinforcements 186even now pouring down from the mountains to swell184 the French army, they trembled with fear of the consequences of their rebellion against Louis XII. In Novara, where the Moro now lay, despair and confusion prevailed among the leaders, while the temper of the Swiss mercenaries grew daily more ominous427.
The French army, gradually increasing in number and strength, was encamped at Mortara, a few miles away, and constantly made bold dashes up to the very walls of Novara. A battle could no longer be avoided. On the 4th of April the enemy advanced to within a mile of Novara and challenged the Italians to the combat. Lodovico’s army issued forth in noble array, but it was nothing more than hollow show. The whole of the Swiss, who formed its greater part, refused to fight, on the pretext428 that they could not shed the blood of their fellow-countrymen engaged in the French ranks. Their leaders had in fact secretly treated with the enemy. Returning into Novara, followed in wild confusion and panic by the rest of the army, they proceeded to arrange terms of capitulation with De Ligny, the French commander. The promises, entreaties429, tears even of the unhappy Moro, could not move them from their purpose. All he could obtain was a promise that they would carry him into safety disguised in the midst of their ranks when they abandoned Novara. And even this small mercy was a sham75 and a treachery. Someone among them warned the French generals of the arrangement, and a careful scrutiny430 of the troops, as in accordance with the agreement with the French they marched out unmolested, soon detected the Duke by his well-known features and complexion and the undisguisable height and majesty431 of his person. With him were captured also Galeazzo di San Severino and one or two other nobles.
Thus unbloodily, as if by the decree of Fate, fell 187Lodovico Sforza. We watch his dark and mournful figure—more dignified432 in adversity than when tossed amid the rude and difficult circumstances of active war—as it passes slowly out of Italy in its vesture of tragedy, conducted with respectful compassion by the chivalrous433 French, taunted434 and reviled435 by his own countrymen. It bears a significance reaching far beyond the immediate event and the immediate victim. So much was passing away with it. Italy, that fair queen whose robes the too-aspiring Prince had desired to brush free from every stain, was a captive with him, befouled and bloodied436 by the ignorant barbarian437, and all the joy and exaltation of her wonderful Quattrocento was to fail, and her new-found strength and hope, with its sky-aspiring projects but half realised, to be bound down in the sad fetters438 of disillusion439, despair, and a new spiritual tyranny, while the grand ideal of the Renaissance was to travel away with her freedom and find its perfect fulfilment elsewhere.
As Lodovico Sforza was the first to utter the fatal invitation to the French, he was fitly the first scapegoat. But, not alone in his sin, he was not alone in the punishment. If we condemn399 him for starting the ruin of his country by delivering Naples to Charles, what shall we say of Venice, Florence and the Pope, who each for their own selfish interests completed it by selling Milan to Louis? The inexorable retribution did not fail to fall upon them also. The first years of the sixteenth century are its history. Alexander, dying, dragged down that son and that earthly dominion for which he had given his soul. Venice, shaken nigh to destruction in her turn, by an iniquitous440 combination, had to forget her wide dreams of empire and be content with a narrow liberty, passing into stagnation441 and decay. Julius, continuer of Alexander’s worldly policy, may well have seen with prophetic eye, 188when death called him too, his unaccomplished scheme of a renovated442 Church,—Papacy and Empire in one, head of a new heaven on earth, which should lay the sword of temporal and spiritual victory at the feet of the purified Venus, Madonna with her Son upon her knee, shrink to the monastic ideals and the rigid443 excluding tyranny of the Catholic reaction. Last of all, Florence, most constant of the lovers of liberty, with her most melancholy fall filled up the cup of expiation444 and sealed the final subjugation445 of the country.
SCOPETTA OF LODOVICO IL MORO
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1 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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2 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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3 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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4 gauged | |
adj.校准的;标准的;量规的;量计的v.(用仪器)测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 );估计;计量;划分 | |
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5 unstable | |
adj.不稳定的,易变的 | |
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6 con | |
n.反对的观点,反对者,反对票,肺病;vt.精读,学习,默记;adv.反对地,从反面;adj.欺诈的 | |
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7 contagion | |
n.(通过接触的疾病)传染;蔓延 | |
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8 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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9 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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10 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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11 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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12 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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13 upheaval | |
n.胀起,(地壳)的隆起;剧变,动乱 | |
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14 conspirators | |
n.共谋者,阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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15 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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16 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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17 garrison | |
n.卫戍部队;驻地,卫戍区;vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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18 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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19 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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20 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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21 overthrowing | |
v.打倒,推翻( overthrow的现在分词 );使终止 | |
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22 disaffected | |
adj.(政治上)不满的,叛离的 | |
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23 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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24 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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25 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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26 banishing | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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27 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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28 partisans | |
游击队员( partisan的名词复数 ); 党人; 党羽; 帮伙 | |
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29 intrigued | |
adj.好奇的,被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式);激起…的兴趣或好奇心;“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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30 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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31 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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32 inordinate | |
adj.无节制的;过度的 | |
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33 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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34 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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35 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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36 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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37 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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38 plied | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的过去式和过去分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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39 entreated | |
恳求,乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 preying | |
v.掠食( prey的现在分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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42 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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43 persuasions | |
n.劝说,说服(力)( persuasion的名词复数 );信仰 | |
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44 endearments | |
n.表示爱慕的话语,亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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45 banishment | |
n.放逐,驱逐 | |
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46 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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47 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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48 captivity | |
n.囚禁;被俘;束缚 | |
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49 vindictive | |
adj.有报仇心的,怀恨的,惩罚的 | |
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50 hindrance | |
n.妨碍,障碍 | |
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51 arrogance | |
n.傲慢,自大 | |
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52 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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53 lute | |
n.琵琶,鲁特琴 | |
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54 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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55 adherent | |
n.信徒,追随者,拥护者 | |
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56 custody | |
n.监护,照看,羁押,拘留 | |
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57 artillery | |
n.(军)火炮,大炮;炮兵(部队) | |
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58 dictate | |
v.口授;(使)听写;指令,指示,命令 | |
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59 guardianship | |
n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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60 ignobly | |
卑贱地,下流地 | |
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61 bereft | |
adj.被剥夺的 | |
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62 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
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63 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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64 usurper | |
n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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65 ingratitude | |
n.忘恩负义 | |
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66 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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67 advisers | |
顾问,劝告者( adviser的名词复数 ); (指导大学新生学科问题等的)指导教授 | |
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68 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
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69 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
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70 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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71 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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72 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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73 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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74 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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75 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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76 scapegoat | |
n.替罪的羔羊,替人顶罪者;v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
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77 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
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78 recording | |
n.录音,记录 | |
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79 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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80 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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81 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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82 perfidy | |
n.背信弃义,不忠贞 | |
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83 undoing | |
n.毁灭的原因,祸根;破坏,毁灭 | |
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84 diligent | |
adj.勤勉的,勤奋的 | |
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85 prying | |
adj.爱打听的v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的现在分词 );撬开 | |
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86 belittled | |
使显得微小,轻视,贬低( belittle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87 moor | |
n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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88 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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89 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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90 usurpation | |
n.篡位;霸占 | |
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91 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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92 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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93 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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94 avert | |
v.防止,避免;转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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95 anarchy | |
n.无政府状态;社会秩序混乱,无秩序 | |
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96 deposition | |
n.免职,罢官;作证;沉淀;沉淀物 | |
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97 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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98 legitimacy | |
n.合法,正当 | |
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99 necessitated | |
使…成为必要,需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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101 subtlety | |
n.微妙,敏锐,精巧;微妙之处,细微的区别 | |
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102 interfering | |
adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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103 equilibrium | |
n.平衡,均衡,相称,均势,平静 | |
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104 culmination | |
n.顶点;最高潮 | |
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105 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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106 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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107 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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108 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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109 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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110 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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111 hydraulic | |
adj.水力的;水压的,液压的;水力学的 | |
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112 wildernesses | |
荒野( wilderness的名词复数 ); 沙漠; (政治家)在野; 不再当政(或掌权) | |
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113 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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114 tracts | |
大片土地( tract的名词复数 ); 地带; (体内的)道; (尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的)短文 | |
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115 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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116 villas | |
别墅,公馆( villa的名词复数 ); (城郊)住宅 | |
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117 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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118 renaissance | |
n.复活,复兴,文艺复兴 | |
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119 colonnaded | |
adj.有列柱的,有柱廊的 | |
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120 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
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121 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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122 taxation | |
n.征税,税收,税金 | |
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123 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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124 grievances | |
n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 );苦衷;不满;牢骚 | |
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125 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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126 fabulous | |
adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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127 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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128 conspicuously | |
ad.明显地,惹人注目地 | |
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129 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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130 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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131 traitors | |
卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 ); 叛徒; 背叛者; 背信弃义的人 | |
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132 adorn | |
vt.使美化,装饰 | |
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133 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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134 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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135 decadence | |
n.衰落,颓废 | |
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136 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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137 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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138 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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139 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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140 pageants | |
n.盛装的游行( pageant的名词复数 );穿古代服装的游行;再现历史场景的娱乐活动;盛会 | |
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141 pageant | |
n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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142 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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143 potentates | |
n.君主,统治者( potentate的名词复数 );有权势的人 | |
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144 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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145 nuptials | |
n.婚礼;婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
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146 diplomacy | |
n.外交;外交手腕,交际手腕 | |
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147 blazoned | |
v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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148 surfeit | |
v.使饮食过度;n.(食物)过量,过度 | |
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149 decorative | |
adj.装饰的,可作装饰的 | |
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150 conceits | |
高傲( conceit的名词复数 ); 自以为; 巧妙的词语; 别出心裁的比喻 | |
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151 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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152 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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154 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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155 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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156 enumerates | |
v.列举,枚举,数( enumerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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157 sonority | |
n.响亮,宏亮 | |
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158 secluded | |
adj.与世隔绝的;隐退的;偏僻的v.使隔开,使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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159 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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160 allured | |
诱引,吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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162 pedantry | |
n.迂腐,卖弄学问 | |
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163 charlatanism | |
n.庸医术,庸医的行为 | |
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164 hieroglyphics | |
n.pl.象形文字 | |
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165 joust | |
v.马上长枪比武,竞争 | |
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166 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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167 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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168 sonnets | |
n.十四行诗( sonnet的名词复数 ) | |
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169 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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170 emoluments | |
n.报酬,薪水( emolument的名词复数 ) | |
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171 quenching | |
淬火,熄 | |
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172 perennial | |
adj.终年的;长久的 | |
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173 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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174 satire | |
n.讽刺,讽刺文学,讽刺作品 | |
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175 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
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176 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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177 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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178 improvising | |
即兴创作(improvise的现在分词形式) | |
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179 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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180 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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181 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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182 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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183 stanza | |
n.(诗)节,段 | |
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184 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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185 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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186 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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187 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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188 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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189 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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190 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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191 muses | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的第三人称单数 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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192 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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193 revels | |
n.作乐( revel的名词复数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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194 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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195 adoration | |
n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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196 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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197 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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198 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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199 sculptors | |
雕刻家,雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 ); [天]玉夫座 | |
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200 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
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201 craftsman | |
n.技工,精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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202 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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203 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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204 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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205 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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206 contention | |
n.争论,争辩,论战;论点,主张 | |
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207 Vogue | |
n.时髦,时尚;adj.流行的 | |
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208 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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209 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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210 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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211 hawks | |
鹰( hawk的名词复数 ); 鹰派人物,主战派人物 | |
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212 capered | |
v.跳跃,雀跃( caper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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213 grotesquely | |
adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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214 garb | |
n.服装,装束 | |
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215 redeeming | |
补偿的,弥补的 | |
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216 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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217 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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218 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) | |
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219 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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220 immorality | |
n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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221 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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222 voluptuous | |
adj.肉欲的,骄奢淫逸的 | |
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223 eyewitness | |
n.目击者,见证人 | |
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224 preludes | |
n.开端( prelude的名词复数 );序幕;序曲;短篇作品 | |
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225 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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226 lauded | |
v.称赞,赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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227 rivalry | |
n.竞争,竞赛,对抗 | |
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228 amorous | |
adj.多情的;有关爱情的 | |
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229 dulcet | |
adj.悦耳的 | |
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230 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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231 gliding | |
v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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232 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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233 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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234 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
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235 jousts | |
(骑士)骑着马用长矛打斗( joust的名词复数 ); 格斗,竞争 | |
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236 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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237 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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238 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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239 unstably | |
adj.不稳固的;不坚定的;易变的;反复无常的 | |
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240 lawful | |
adj.法律许可的,守法的,合法的 | |
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241 fresco | |
n.壁画;vt.作壁画于 | |
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242 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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243 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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244 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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245 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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246 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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247 semblance | |
n.外貌,外表 | |
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248 relinquishing | |
交出,让给( relinquish的现在分词 ); 放弃 | |
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249 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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250 confiding | |
adj.相信人的,易于相信的v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的现在分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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251 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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252 usurped | |
篡夺,霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 ); 盗用; 篡夺,篡权 | |
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253 consort | |
v.相伴;结交 | |
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254 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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255 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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256 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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257 fortresses | |
堡垒,要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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258 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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259 scantily | |
adv.缺乏地;不充足地;吝啬地;狭窄地 | |
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260 pompous | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的;夸大的;豪华的 | |
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261 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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262 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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263 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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264 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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265 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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266 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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267 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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268 inflamed | |
adj.发炎的,红肿的v.(使)变红,发怒,过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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269 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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270 wrested | |
(用力)拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 ); 费力取得; (从…)攫取; ( 从… ) 强行取去… | |
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271 cardinal | |
n.(天主教的)红衣主教;adj.首要的,基本的 | |
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272 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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273 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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274 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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275 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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276 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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277 unwillingly | |
adv.不情愿地 | |
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278 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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279 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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280 defensive | |
adj.防御的;防卫的;防守的 | |
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281 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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282 specious | |
adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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283 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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284 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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285 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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286 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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287 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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288 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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289 covetousness | |
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290 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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291 beget | |
v.引起;产生 | |
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292 scramble | |
v.爬行,攀爬,杂乱蔓延,碎片,片段,废料 | |
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293 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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294 evoking | |
产生,引起,唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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295 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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296 tyrants | |
专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 ); 暴君似的人; (古希腊的)僭主; 严酷的事物 | |
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297 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
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298 scrupled | |
v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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299 sporadic | |
adj.偶尔发生的 [反]regular;分散的 | |
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300 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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301 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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302 vindication | |
n.洗冤,证实 | |
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303 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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304 abet | |
v.教唆,鼓励帮助 | |
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305 glamour | |
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住 | |
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306 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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307 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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308 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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309 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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310 persistence | |
n.坚持,持续,存留 | |
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311 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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312 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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313 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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314 subverted | |
v.颠覆,破坏(政治制度、宗教信仰等)( subvert的过去式和过去分词 );使(某人)道德败坏或不忠 | |
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315 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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316 adroit | |
adj.熟练的,灵巧的 | |
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317 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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318 invader | |
n.侵略者,侵犯者,入侵者 | |
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319 outlet | |
n.出口/路;销路;批发商店;通风口;发泄 | |
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320 enervation | |
n.无活力,衰弱 | |
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321 venal | |
adj.唯利是图的,贪脏枉法的 | |
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322 imbibed | |
v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 );喝;吸取;吸气 | |
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323 dilatory | |
adj.迟缓的,不慌不忙的 | |
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324 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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325 tortuous | |
adj.弯弯曲曲的,蜿蜒的 | |
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326 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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327 piazza | |
n.广场;走廊 | |
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328 negotiations | |
协商( negotiation的名词复数 ); 谈判; 完成(难事); 通过 | |
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329 wilt | |
v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎;(指人)疲倦,衰弱 | |
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330 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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331 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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332 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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333 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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334 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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335 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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336 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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337 shameful | |
adj.可耻的,不道德的 | |
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338 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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339 accusations | |
n.指责( accusation的名词复数 );指控;控告;(被告发、控告的)罪名 | |
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340 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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341 repelled | |
v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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342 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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343 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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344 pusillanimity | |
n.无气力,胆怯 | |
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345 superseded | |
[医]被代替的,废弃的 | |
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346 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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347 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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348 coalition | |
n.结合体,同盟,结合,联合 | |
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349 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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350 dominions | |
统治权( dominion的名词复数 ); 领土; 疆土; 版图 | |
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351 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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352 annihilating | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的现在分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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353 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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354 miraculous | |
adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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355 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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356 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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357 arbiter | |
n.仲裁人,公断人 | |
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358 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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359 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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360 vainglorious | |
adj.自负的;夸大的 | |
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361 treasurer | |
n.司库,财务主管 | |
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362 depicting | |
描绘,描画( depict的现在分词 ); 描述 | |
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363 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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364 rankled | |
v.(使)痛苦不已,(使)怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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365 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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366 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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367 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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368 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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369 augury | |
n.预言,征兆,占卦 | |
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370 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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371 canto | |
n.长篇诗的章 | |
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372 volatile | |
adj.反复无常的,挥发性的,稍纵即逝的,脾气火爆的;n.挥发性物质 | |
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373 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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374 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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375 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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376 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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377 restitution | |
n.赔偿;恢复原状 | |
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378 embarrassments | |
n.尴尬( embarrassment的名词复数 );难堪;局促不安;令人难堪或耻辱的事 | |
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379 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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380 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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381 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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382 taunts | |
嘲弄的言语,嘲笑,奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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383 alienated | |
adj.感到孤独的,不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 );使不友好;转让;让渡(财产等) | |
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384 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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385 nominally | |
在名义上,表面地; 应名儿 | |
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386 presage | |
n.预感,不祥感;v.预示 | |
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387 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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388 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
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389 munitions | |
n.军火,弹药;v.供应…军需品 | |
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390 insurgent | |
adj.叛乱的,起事的;n.叛乱分子 | |
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391 citadel | |
n.城堡;堡垒;避难所 | |
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392 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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393 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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394 garish | |
adj.华丽而俗气的,华而不实的 | |
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395 benign | |
adj.善良的,慈祥的;良性的,无危险的 | |
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396 millennium | |
n.一千年,千禧年;太平盛世 | |
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397 lengthy | |
adj.漫长的,冗长的 | |
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398 condemnation | |
n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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399 condemn | |
vt.谴责,指责;宣判(罪犯),判刑 | |
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400 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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401 accomplices | |
从犯,帮凶,同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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402 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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403 demonstrations | |
证明( demonstration的名词复数 ); 表明; 表达; 游行示威 | |
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404 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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405 faction | |
n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
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406 insidiously | |
潜在地,隐伏地,阴险地 | |
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407 seethed | |
(液体)沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 ); 激动,大怒; 强压怒火; 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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408 sedition | |
n.煽动叛乱 | |
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409 tumults | |
吵闹( tumult的名词复数 ); 喧哗; 激动的吵闹声; 心烦意乱 | |
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410 beset | |
v.镶嵌;困扰,包围 | |
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411 snares | |
n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 );圈套;诱人遭受失败(丢脸、损失等)的东西;诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉,诱陷,陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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412 expedient | |
adj.有用的,有利的;n.紧急的办法,权宜之计 | |
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413 inciting | |
刺激的,煽动的 | |
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414 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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415 forerunners | |
n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 );开路人;先兆;前兆 | |
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416 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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417 bulwark | |
n.堡垒,保障,防御 | |
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418 presentiment | |
n.预感,预觉 | |
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419 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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420 exhorted | |
v.劝告,劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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421 treasury | |
n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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422 expedients | |
n.应急有效的,权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
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423 appropriation | |
n.拨款,批准支出 | |
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424 voracious | |
adj.狼吞虎咽的,贪婪的 | |
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425 swarming | |
密集( swarm的现在分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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426 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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427 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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428 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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429 entreaties | |
n.恳求,乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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430 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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431 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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432 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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433 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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434 taunted | |
嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 ); 嘲弄; 辱骂; 奚落 | |
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435 reviled | |
v.辱骂,痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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436 bloodied | |
v.血污的( bloody的过去式和过去分词 );流血的;屠杀的;残忍的 | |
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437 barbarian | |
n.野蛮人;adj.野蛮(人)的;未开化的 | |
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438 fetters | |
n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 );束缚v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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439 disillusion | |
vt.使不再抱幻想,使理想破灭 | |
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440 iniquitous | |
adj.不公正的;邪恶的;高得出奇的 | |
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441 stagnation | |
n. 停滞 | |
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442 renovated | |
翻新,修复,整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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443 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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444 expiation | |
n.赎罪,补偿 | |
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445 subjugation | |
n.镇压,平息,征服 | |
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