King’s Chapel was very nearly a century in building. Henry VI. laid its foundation stone on July 25th, 1446, and the workmen continued at it till 1479 or thereabout. Edward IV. gave ￡1000 towards it, but the works lay idle till 1508, when Henry VII. came forward with ￡5000. Another ￡5000 was paid over by his executors in 1513, and in 1515 the chapel stood for the first time as it stands now. The stained glass was added under two contracts, one bearing date 1516, the second 1526. In 1536 the screen and most of the stalls were added, and in 1774 Essex spoiled the east end with some inferior Gothic wood carving9, which, fortunately, has lately been removed.
This is the history of the main fabric10. As a building, its faults are shared in common by all its contemporaries. It is possible to accuse King’s Chapel of monotony, and it must be confessed that its constant repetition of the[97] same ornaments12 all over its surface shows a lack of invention. But it may be said without any doubt that no building raised in Europe after 1500 is so pure a specimen13 of Gothic as this; and, with all its faults, and especially its strong tendency to mere14 bigness, it stands first in beauty among those of our churches which are not cathedrals—that is, after Westminster Abbey. The exterior15, with its corner turrets16, its row of tall windows, its flanking chantries and its immense buttresses17, is simple in design and gorgeous in execution. The north and south porches, which are exceptionally good for their date, afford a certain relief from the general sameness. Internally, the charm of the general effect is extraordinary, and every Cambridge man must have felt it at some time or other. Its length is 316 feet, its breadth 45? feet, its height 78 feet; and this vast area is flooded with the exquisite18 colours of the stained windows. Even the roof, an unbroken expanse of that development of vaulting19 known as fan tracery, must give the palm to the windows. Without its stained glass, King’s Chapel would be, like the Lady[98] Chapel at Ely, merely an interesting relic20. As it is, it is the rival of Fairford as the possessor of the most complete set of windows of the Renaissance21 period in England. Indeed, it would be difficult to find their parallel anywhere. Troyes is full of glass of the period, and, intrinsically, the windows of one of its churches, St Martin-ès-Vignes, are of equal interest, although much later. For depth of colour and systematic22 treatment these cannot be matched. They form a connected exposition of the Gospel History, proceeding23 by type and antitype from the conception of the Blessed Virgin24, through the life of Our Lord and the apostolic history to the Virgin’s death. In each window there is an isolated25 figure or “messenger” between the compartments26, who bears a scroll27 with an appropriate Latin text. Thus the windows embodied28 the whole plan of salvation29, showing the type, the prophecy and the fulfilment. They culminate30, in the east window, in the central fact of the Crucifixion. The west window, representing, in accordance with general custom, the Last Judgment31, is modern (Clayton and Bell) and is in very fair, although far from complete[99] harmony with the older glass. The merit of the latter is not sustained all through, and the windows on the south side, nearest the altar, are coarsely treated in comparison with the rest.[3] Mr C. E. Kempe is at present restoring the windows dealing32 with the lives of Joachim, Anna, and the Blessed Virgin, which suffered from the enemies of so-called popery.
There are a thousand things to notice other than the windows. I have mentioned the roof. To understand its construction it is necessary to pay a visit to the space between the roofs, where the whole skeleton of the vaulting is to be seen and its wonderful engineering appreciated. The woodwork of the chapel is good, especially the screen, a very fine and graceful33 example of that Italian style which filtered into England through the court of Francis I. It bears the love-knot and twisted initials of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn. The organ-case upon it belongs to 1606; the organ itself was built eighty years later by Renatus Harris, but has been almost entirely34 renewed since. The canopies35 of the[102] choir-stalls are only a little older than the organ, and look best at a distance. Then there is the stone-carving in the antechapel, where the great coats-of-arms and supporters, the rose and portcullis of Henry VII. are repeated over and over again. Lastly, in the series of chantries there are one or two interesting brasses36. Provost Hacombleyn’s chantry, on the south side, commemorates37 the provost who gave the beautiful lectern. He died in 1528, and is buried here. The window contains some good old glass; a portrait of Henry VI. and two pictures of Our Lady and St Nicholas of Myra, who are the patrons of the chapel. In the centre of the chantry is the altar tomb of Lord Blandford, only son of the great Duke of Marlborough. He died here in 1703.
For two hundred years after the completion of the chapel, the old northern court sufficed. To the south of the chapel was the Provost’s Lodge38, which stood against the last bay, and, with other college buildings, bordered the western side of King’s Parade. In 1724 James Gibbs began the present buildings with his beautiful classical pile, which runs at right angles to the chapel from near its south-west corner. Fellows’[103] Building is in Gibbs’ best manner. It is an extremely plain building, with a rusticated39 basement and a great central opening, which runs through the first two stories and cuts into the third. This may be thought an unnecessary intrusion, but Gibbs had dispensed40 with an order throughout the building, and some relief was imperative41. At any rate, the chief defect of this part of King’s is its hideous42 chimney-stacks, which are only too visible from the street.
Just a century later William Wilkins, who was rearing marvellous edifices43 in the Gothic mode, was let loose on King’s. He began with the space opposite the chapel, and built the long row which includes the Hall, Combination Room, Library, Provost’s Lodge, and several sets of rooms. This row begins at King’s Parade and continues past the southern end of Gibbs’ Building to within a short distance of the river—nearly 200 yards of supremely44 bad imitation Gothic. In this range of buildings the Hall is the only one which attracts much attention. It is large and gloomy, with a gallery at each end, and an elaborate plaster roof copied from Crosby Hall. Sir Robert Walpole has the place of honour[104] above the high table, but there are very few portraits, and the best is that of the late Henry Bradshaw, University Librarian. Wilkins was not satisfied with his undertaking45. In 1828 he proceeded to lay King’s open to the road. The old Lodge was taken down, and a Gothic screen thrown across from the New Building to the south-east corner of the chapel. In the middle of this is the gateway46, famous under many nicknames. To say that this fanciful structure is ugly is not strictly47 true: it has a very distinguished48 air about it, but it belongs decidedly to the era of the Brighton Pavilion. It would be appropriate in any country but England, and under any other name but Gothic.
Sir Gilbert Scott added the small court known as Chetwynd Court some forty years later. Its eastern side follows King’s Parade in a line with the end of Wilkins’ Building, and the face opposite Free School Lane is adorned49 with a statue of Henry VIII. Scott was too conservative and kept to Wilkins’ style too much; the result is not very successful. It was reserved for Mr G. F. Bodley to build the beautiful river court, which was completed on two sides in 1893.[105] Bodley’s Building is the architectural success of Cambridge in the present century, and compares very well with the same artist’s court at Magdalen College, Oxford. Its style is late fifteenth century: it consists of a ground-floor, two stories, and a gabled attic50. The corner-staircase and the oriel of the south side are the chief features, for the use of ornament11 is very sparing. The rose and portcullis are introduced in places, and on the western end, which drops into the river, are carved the arms of Eton, King’s, and the tutelary51 see of Lincoln.
The only other buildings which remain to be mentioned are the last-century bridge, crossing the river by a single span, and the choir-school, a very handsome red-brick building in the meadows west of the college. It deserves notice as one of the very few really pretty dwelling-houses round Cambridge, and as an integral part of this noble and unique foundation.
In examining the motives52 which led to the foundation of the various colleges, it is interesting to observe how many of them were suggested by similar and almost contemporary foundations at Oxford. One may safely say that the boundary-line between the middle ages[106] and the new learning of the Renaissance was crossed when William of Wykeham founded his colleges of St Mary at Winchester and Oxford. The political importance of William of Wykeham and of his successors in the see of Winchester made their work very conspicuous54: two of them, William of Waynflete and Richard Foxe, during their tenure55 of the see, proved no less munificent56 benefactors58 to Oxford than Wykeham had been. The connection of the see of Winchester with the Renaissance forced itself upon everybody’s attention. Henry VI. was especially impressed with it. Two bishops60, Cardinal61 Beaufort and Waynflete, played a prominent part at his court; and it is to the latter that we doubtless owe many hints for the foundation of King’s College. However, at first, Henry VI. undertook the work without any idea of uniting it with his school at Eton. The college which he incorporated in 1440 was a very humble62 affair. It was restricted to a master and twelve scholars, and the space chosen for it was small and inconvenient63. One of the main arteries64 of Cambridge ran west of it; the whole site of the present buildings was blocked up with houses; the form of the court had to be adapted to its narrow and cramped65 position. But, two years later, the king’s plans matured. His foundation of 1443 took a much larger form. It converted King’s into a finishing-school, as it were, for his Highness’ poor scholars of Eton. The dedication66 of the college was changed. Hitherto, in reference to the saint who presided over Henry’s[107] birthday, it had been called the King’s College of St Nicholas. It now added St Mary, the patroness of Eton, to its title. Thus it became an exact counterpart of New College at Oxford. Although Henry projected his buildings on a far more magnificent scale than anything of which Wykeham had dreamed, they had nevertheless a certain resemblance to the Oxford buildings. The plan includes a great tower and a cloister6 west of it, such as were built at Oxford. On the whole, the Founder2 must have been thinking very closely of the colleges at Winchester and Oxford, when he set his hand to this splendid work. He made Waynflete, then Warden67 of Winchester, Provost of Eton; and Waynflete was the guiding spirit of the charter by which the two communities were regulated.[4]
The first provost of King’s came from the opposite side of the street. His name was William Millington, a fellow of Clare. We are told that he was “set back for factious68 favouring of Yorkshiremen.” At any rate, Waynflete probably held the reins69 of both foundations until his translation to Winchester, which took place in 1447. Among the earliest members of the college are one or two famous names. Nicholas Close or Cloose, Bishop59, first of Carlisle and afterwards of Lichfield, was certainly the overseer of the new chapel and perhaps its architect. Thomas Rotherham, whose name is[108] so closely connected with the history of both universities, was fellow of King’s, and gave ￡140 to the chapel. His portrait is in the Hall. Rather younger than these was Oliver King, Bishop of Exeter, who afterwards distinguished himself as Bishop of Bath and Wells. The immense Perpendicular70 building of Bath Abbey, which is due to his energy, is clearly suggested by King’s Chapel, and reproduces many of its details. John Chedworth, who is actually the first provost of the new foundation, became Bishop of Lincoln. His successor, Robert Woodlark, was the founder of St Catharine’s College. Another remarkable71 man of the end of the fifteenth century was Nicholas West, whose conduct as fellow was extremely indecorous. His temper was naturally hasty, and, when he was defeated in his candidature for a proctorship, he made an attempt to set the Provost’s Lodge on fire. Being baulked in this endeavour, he ran off with the college spoons. What action the college took is not recorded, but we are informed that, after this ebullition of temper, the quarrelsome fellow “became a new man, D.D., and Bishop of Ely.” Not only did he combine these three attributes, but, in penitence72 for his wild design on the Provost’s Lodge, built part of it. This was, of course, the old Provost’s Lodge, south-east of the chapel.
Penitence, too, moved Henry VII. to finish the chapel. As a member of the House of Lancaster, his hereditary73 duty compelled him to complete a work which even Edward IV. had[109] found pleasure in favouring; while, as one of the most extortionate and unjust kings who were establishing their thrones about that time, his conscience invited him to do something as an amende honorable for his misdeeds. King’s College was already looked upon as a royal legacy74, and all the kings in their turn were well disposed to it, but none promoted its welfare so much as Henry VII., although his benefits were chiefly posthumous75. The provost to whom the task fell of seeing that Henry’s bequests76 were rightly fulfilled was Robert Hacombleyn, who also had a reputation in his time as a commentator77 on Aristotle. He lies buried in one of the chantries south of the antechapel. He was succeeded by Edward Fox, a native of Gloucestershire, who was provost from 1528 to 1538. Fox was a reformer, but it is said of him that he had “prudence to avoid persecution78.” He was essentially79 a diplomatist, and held the Bishoprick of Hereford during the last three years of his provostship. He was busily engaged by Henry VIII. in the matter of the divorce, and was sent to Clement81 VII., Stephen Gardiner being his companion. Afterwards he was ambassador to France and Germany, and finally to the Schmalkaldic League, when Henry, in his new-fangled zeal82 for the Reformation, felt disposed to join that body. At King’s he was followed by George Day, who filled the office till 1548, and held the see of Chichester with it.
Henry VIII. was a benefactor57 to King’s as well as his father. He had other foundations[110] of his own to look after, however, and seems to have regarded King’s as a good recruiting-ground for Christ Church at Oxford—the college whose glory really belongs to Wolsey. Among those students of Eton and King’s whom we find thus transferred is Robert Aldrich. Aldrich has not much to do with King’s, but was Master, Fellow, and finally Provost of Eton, and, after several promotions83, became Bishop of Carlisle, where he remained until 1556, having successfully weathered all the religious storms of his age. Another very prominent member of the college was Richard Cox, fellow in 1519. His strong Lutheran opinions brought him into favour after the divorce. He had been a Canon of Wolsey’s original Cardinal College; in 1546 he was made Dean of Christ Church. He was also tutor to Edward VI. As a commissioner84 at Oxford, he displayed great fury against the papists, and, at Mary’s accession, not unnaturally85 fled to Strasburg, where he had the congenial society of Peter Martyr87 Vermigli. As Bishop of Ely from 1559 to 1582, he had time to modify his opinions, and it is recorded of him that he hated puritans as much as papists. Queen Elizabeth is said to have disliked him; he must certainly have been very far from her mind.
To the names of these ecclesiastics88 we may add that of Edward Hall, fellow of King’s, who claimed direct descent from Albert II. of Austria, and retired89 to Oxford. Richard Croke was a learned Grecian of King’s, who went to Oxford in order to be near Grocyn. He found patrons[111] in the munificent Warham and Sir Thomas More, and was one of that coterie90 which included Colet and Erasmus. After he had travelled abroad and lectured in Greek at Leipsic and Louvain, he returned to England and became Professor of Greek at Cambridge. This was in 1522. Later on, he was engaged in the divorce, acting91 as Counsel to the Italian Universities, and was made a Canon of Christ Church in 1532. He died in 1588 as Rector of Long Buckby. Yet another of his class was Dr Richard Mulcaster, who, at a somewhat later period, transferred his talent and vast learning to Oxford, and finally became famous as Master of Merchant Taylors’ School.
Very seldom has royalty92 appeared at Cambridge with such magnificence as on the occasion of Elizabeth’s visit in 1564. Although her actual abode93 was at Queens’ College, she spent most of her time in King’s Chapel. The provost at this time was Dr Philip Baker94, who had succeeded Dr Brassie in 1558. Elizabeth was in her element: she was in a seat of learning, and wanted to show herself as profound as any of them. She rode to hear Te Deum and evensong at King’s, dressed in the most gorgeous apparel which even she could assume. At the door the public orator95 praised her in long-winded Latin. When his compliments tended to the fulsome96, she said “Non est veritas,” when they passed probability, she said “Utinam!” Next day was Sunday, and the politic53 Chancellor97, Andrew Perne of Peterhouse, who had burned corpses99 to[112] please her sister, made a Latin sermon before her on the text “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers”—a command which he himself had obeyed to the letter. The Queen was highly pleased. Indeed, most of her visit was occupied in hearing Latin disputations, and nothing delighted her so much as the Latin of Matthew Hutton, who laid the foundation of his fortune by this means. On the Sunday, after Dr Perne’s sermon, she again attended King’s Chapel for evensong; and, in the evening, having performed her religious duties so well, the Virgin Queen once more returned to the antechapel and witnessed the Aulularia of Plautus. This must have vexed100 the good puritans of the day! It is necessary to remark that the use of college chapels101 for dramatic purposes was very common, and nothing was thought of it. The Commencements in Great St Mary’s were infinitely102 more impious ceremonies. Even now, when a mastership falls vacant, many college chapels are used for the conclave103 of fellows, as the chapel ensures more privacy than any other part of the buildings.
Dr Philip Baker, who took part in these solemn revels104, was succeeded in 1569 by Dr Roger Goade, a very serious divine. His son was present at the Synod of Dort, a fact indicative of the family’s opinions. King’s produced, indeed, during the Tudor period, a large number of grave and weighty persons. Sir John Cheke had been provost during the reign105 of Edward VI., and, together with the violently[113] Protestant Walter Haddon, then fellow, and afterwards Master of Trinity Hall, had done important work as an ecclesiastical lawyer. Then there was Giles Fletcher, brother of the Bishop of London and uncle of the dramatist. This remarkable man was Ambassador to the Court of Muscovy in 1588, and concluded a treaty of commerce with Ivan the Terrible. His book “Of the Russe Commonwealthe” has been an indispensable authority for all subsequent historians of Russia. He was made Treasurer106 of St Paul’s in 1597. A more famous name still is that of Sir Francis Walsingham, the great minister of Elizabeth. He was a fellow commoner and left many valuable books to the library. Dr Thomas Wylson, fellow of the college, was also a well-known politician of the same reign. He was tutor to Elizabeth’s cousins, the young Brandons, Dukes of Suffolk, and was ambassador to Holland in 1576. In 1577, he became Secretary of State, and, in 1579 Dean of Durham. It is said of him that he was “master of every subject.” His correspondence forms part of the Harleian MSS.
At Dr Goade’s death, in 1610, we approach dangerous times. Dr Benjamin Whichcot, a liberal puritan, became master in 1644. It is generally supposed that his friendship with the Earl of Manchester, who occupied Cambridge for the Parliament, was the salvation of the stained glass in the chapel. He was far too learned a man to be bigoted107, and was more of the type of Milton than of the ordinary puritan divine.[114] Dr Whichcot was a classic, and advised young preachers to imitate Demosthenes and Cicero. The gentle and metaphysical Cudworth was his friend, and he died at Cudworth’s house in 1683, having been dispossessed of the provostship since 1660. His memory was held long afterwards in great esteem108, and a selection from his discourses109 was edited by the third Lord Shaftesbury, the pupil of John Locke and author of the Characteristics.
Of a very opposite type to Dr Whichcot was the mathematician110 William Oughtred, author of a book called Clavis Mathematica, and an adept111 in archery. One writer says of him that “Mathematics were not only recreation to him, but Epicurism112.” In spite of this devotion to abstract sciences, he was an ardent113 royalist, and, on hearing of the Restoration, died of joy. Edmund Waller, the poet, was also at King’s about the same time. We may imagine that his ecstasy114 at the Restoration took a more substantial form. Another type of don altogether is shown us in Dr William Gage80, who attended chapel without a break for nine years, and read fifteen chapters of Holy Scripture115 every day of his life. This exemplary gentleman received the living of St Anne, Blackfriars, where he died in 1653.
After the Restoration, the list of provosts becomes uninteresting, and the college history becomes a very ordinary record. The privileges of the foundation were strengthened with age. It was very conservative and adhered very closely[115] to the Founder’s plan, while other colleges were opening their doors more widely and competition was becoming a recognised part of university life. It was autonomous116: its members did not proceed to public examinations in the schools, but gained their degree by an examination of their own. An Eton Foundation Scholarship was the almost inevitable117 prelude118 to a scholarship and finally a fellowship at King’s. Under such circumstances the history of a college, however sound its scholarship, is likely to be rather quiet. In other respects, too, the existence of King’s has been isolated. Its visitor is the Bishop of Lincoln, and the college is a peculiar119 in the diocese of Lincoln. It also enjoyed the unique privilege of being exempt120 from proctorial jurisdiction121, and many a refugee from the proctor’s mild justice has sought sanctuary122 in King’s without fear of extradition123 treaties.
It is not, however, to be supposed that this noble college was at any time without its worthies124. Sir William Temple was educated here. Although his name is doubtless an ornament to the college, he must have been an insufferable thorn in the side of his pastors125 and masters, for he was the last man in the world to have an ill conceit126 of himself. Two more genial86 names appear later. In the absence of a portrait of the Founder, a painting of Sir Robert Walpole hangs at the end of the hall. He was always a loving son of the college, and his son, the even more famous Horace,* was here as well. Charles Pratt, Earl Camden* and[116] Lord Chancellor of England, is another name connected with the college; and Townshend, a third statesman of the Georgian era, was likewise brought up at Eton and King’s. To turn aside from politics to the path of pure learning, we find a very prodigy127 in the person of Thomas Hyde, afterwards Archdeacon of Gloucester. At the age of eighteen he performed the almost incredible task, which till then had been deemed impossible, of transcribing128 the Persian Pentateuch out of its Hebrew characters. It is scarcely surprising to find that this precocious129 divine did not shine in ordinary conversation. But his learning met its recompense in a Canonry at Christ Church, and Hebraists of his own age did not scruple130 to reckon him equal as an Orientalist to Bochert and Pococke.
The name of Sumner occurs twice in the list of provosts, once in 1756 and again in 1797, and, among others of the name, John Bird Sumner,* the famous Archbishop of Canterbury, was a King’s man. Earlier in the century lived the painfully erudite William Coxe,* who, as Archdeacon of Wiltshire, devoted131 his attention to the Duke of Marlborough and the Hapsburg family. His researches, although their method is antiquated132 and their style is hopelessly dull, are yet invaluable133 to the student, and his name is not by any means the least among those of the historians whom Cambridge has produced. But to the majority of persons, the ecclesiastical celebrities134 of King’s are overshadowed by the fame[117] of Charles Simeon, who was a fellow of the college for considerably135 more than half a century and, during that time, was a parish priest of the town. He was the chief of those men who roused the Church of England from her last-century apathy136 and revived her ancient fervour. Although his position was, owing to circumstances, somewhat more restricted, he was to Cambridge of his day what Cosin and Andrewes had been to the Cambridge of theirs, and the influence which he exercised from Cambridge over the length and breadth of England was almost unbounded. He is buried in the antechapel of King’s beneath a stone on which his initials are engraved137, and there is a bust138 of him in the University Library. The traditions which he left to King’s have never been entirely lost. The Church of England has had few more devoted sons than the late George Williams, who, as fellow of King’s, advocated warmly the establishment of friendly relations with the churches of the East. Older members of the university still remember him as “Jerusalem” Williams. And, although his life was very retired and he was seldom absent for any length of time from Cambridge, the late William Ralph Churton, Canon of St Alban’s, was for the last forty years of his life probably the most active of all the English clergy139 in promoting missionary140 work and extending the Church in the colonies.
In mentioning these names, there are others which have been necessarily omitted. The[118] episcopal list of the college is a long one, and includes, among many more prelates, the famous names of Edmund Gheast, Bishop of Rochester and Jewel’s successor at Salisbury; William Wickham, Bishop of Lincoln and afterwards the second Bishop of that name at Winchester; and John Pearson, Bishop of Chester, who, first a fellow here, was subsequently Master of Trinity. Among noblemen, the great ambassador, Stratford Canning, afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe (* Herkomer), occupies a conspicuous place. Among ordinary laymen141, we find Roger Lupton, a Jacobean worthy142, founder of Sedbergh School; and, much later, the poet, Thomas Lisle Bowles. In the antechapel, a plain stone covers the remains143 of Dr Richard Okes, provost from 1850 to 1889. And close by, under a similar stone, is buried Henry Bradshaw (* Herkomer), University Librarian, one of the finest scholars of the century, who opened a new epoch144 in the history of liturgical145 study. By the side of the south door will be found a tablet in memory of the late James Kenneth Stephen, an incomparable orator, whose little volumes of verse proved him the successor of Calverley among Cambridge poets.
Within the last twenty years the college has undergone a complete change. It is no longer the exclusively Etonian college which it was. Its scholarships, with the exception of a very few, have been thrown open to all competitors, and the large majority of undergraduates now at[119] King’s have never been at Eton. Although, from the standpoint of the lover of antiquity146, this departure from the Founder’s scheme is to be seriously regretted, yet it cannot but be admitted that, in the present century, the exclusive scheme is impracticable, and newer methods have to be followed. At all events, the plan works very well, and in no generation is King’s likely to lose its prestige, nor is that esprit de corps98 which “Henry’s holy shade” seems to inspire, at all likely to diminish.
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founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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vaulting
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| n.（天花板或屋顶的）拱形结构 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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23
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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24
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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25
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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26
compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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27
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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28
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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29
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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30
culminate
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| v.到绝顶，达于极点，达到高潮 | |
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31
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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32
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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33
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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34
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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35
canopies
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| （宝座或床等上面的）华盖( canopy的名词复数 )； （飞行器上的）座舱罩； 任何悬于上空的覆盖物； 森林中天棚似的树荫 | |
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36
brasses
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| n.黄铜( brass的名词复数 )；铜管乐器；钱；黄铜饰品（尤指马挽具上的黄铜圆片） | |
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37
commemorates
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| n.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的名词复数 )v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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39
rusticated
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| v.罚（大学生）暂时停学离校( rusticate的过去式和过去分词 )；在农村定居 | |
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40
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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41
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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42
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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43
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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44
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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45
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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46
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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47
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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48
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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49
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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50
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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51
tutelary
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| adj.保护的；守护的 | |
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52
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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53
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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54
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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55
tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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56
munificent
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| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
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57
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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58
benefactors
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| n.捐助者，施主( benefactor的名词复数 )；恩人 | |
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59
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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60
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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61
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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62
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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63
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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64
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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65
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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66
dedication
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| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
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67
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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68
factious
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| adj.好搞宗派活动的，派系的，好争论的 | |
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69
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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70
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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71
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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72
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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73
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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74
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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75
posthumous
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| adj.遗腹的；父亡后出生的；死后的，身后的 | |
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76
bequests
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| n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 )；遗产，遗赠物 | |
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77
commentator
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| n.注释者，解说者；实况广播评论员 | |
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78
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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79
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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80
gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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81
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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82
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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83
promotions
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| 促进( promotion的名词复数 )； 提升； 推广； 宣传 | |
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84
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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85
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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86
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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87
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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88
ecclesiastics
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| n.神职者，教会，牧师( ecclesiastic的名词复数 ) | |
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89
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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90
coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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91
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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92
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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93
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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94
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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95
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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96
fulsome
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| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
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97
chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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98
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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99
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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100
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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101
chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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102
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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103
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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104
revels
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| 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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105
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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106
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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107
bigoted
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| adj.固执己见的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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108
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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109
discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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110
mathematician
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| n.数学家 | |
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111
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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112
epicurism
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| n.贪口福，美食主义 | |
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113
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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114
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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115
scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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116
autonomous
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| adj.自治的；独立的 | |
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117
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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118
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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119
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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120
exempt
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| adj.免除的；v.使免除；n.免税者，被免除义务者 | |
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121
jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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122
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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123
extradition
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| n.引渡（逃犯） | |
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124
worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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125
pastors
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| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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126
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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127
prodigy
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| n.惊人的事物，奇迹，神童，天才，预兆 | |
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128
transcribing
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| （用不同的录音手段）转录( transcribe的现在分词 )； 改编（乐曲）（以适应他种乐器或声部）； 抄写； 用音标标出（声音） | |
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129
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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130
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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131
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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132
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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133
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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134
celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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135
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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136
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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137
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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138
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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139
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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140
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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141
laymen
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| 门外汉，外行人( layman的名词复数 )； 普通教徒（有别于神职人员） | |
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142
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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143
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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144
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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145
liturgical
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| adj.礼拜仪式的 | |
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146
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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