Samuel Jerrold was twice married—the second time to a wife so much his junior that he was older 76 than his own mother-in-law. Partly, perhaps, in virtue4 of this last great advantage on the part of the husband, the marriage was a very happy one. The second Mrs. Samuel was a clever, good-tempered, notable woman; and helped her husband materially in his theatrical5 affairs, when he rose in time (and in Garrick's shoes) to be a manager of country theatres. Young Mrs. Samuel brought her husband a family—two girls to begin with; and, on the third of January, eighteen hundred and three, while she was staying in London, a boy, who was christened Douglas William, and who was destined6, in after life, to make the name of the obscure country manager a household word on the lips of English readers.
In the year eighteen hundred and seven, Samuel Jerrold became the lessee7 of the Sheerness Theatre; and little Douglas was there turned to professional account, as a stage-child. He appeared in The Stranger as one of the little cherubs8 of the frail9 and interesting Mrs. Haller; and he was "carried on" by Edmund Kean, as the child in Rolla. These early theatrical experiences (whatever influence they might have had, at a later time, in forming his instincts as a dramatist) do not appear to have at all inclined him towards his father's profession when he grew older. The world of ships and sailors amid which he lived at Sheerness, seems to have formed his first tastes and influenced his first longings10. As soon as 77 he could speak for himself on the matter of his future prospects11, he chose the life of a sailor; and, at ten years old, he entered on board the guardship, Namur, as a first-class volunteer.
Up to this time the father had given the son as good an education as it lay within his means to command. Douglas had been noted12 as a studious boy at school; and he brought with him a taste for reading and for quiet pursuits when he entered on board the Namur. Beginning his apprenticeship13 to the sea as a Midshipman, in December, eighteen hundred and thirteen, he was not transferred from the guardship to active service until April, eighteen hundred and fifteen, when he was drafted off, with forty-six men, to his Majesty's gun-brig, Ernest.
Those were stirring times. The fierce struggle of Waterloo was at hand; and Douglas's first cruise was across the Channel to Ostend, at the head of a fleet of transports carrying troops and stores to the battle-field. Singularly enough, his last cruise connected him with the results of the great fight, as his first had connected him with the preparations for it. In the July of the Waterloo year, the Ernest brought her share of the wounded back to Sheerness. On the deck of that brig, Jerrold first stood face to face with the horror of war. In after life, when other pens were writing glibly14 enough of the glory of war, his pen traced the dark reverse of the picture, and 78 set the terrible consequences of all victories, righteous as well as wicked, in their true light.
The great peace was proclaimed, and the nations rested at last. In October, eighteen hundred and fifteen, the Ernest was "paid off." Jerrold stepped on shore, and never returned to the service. He was without interest; and the peace virtually closed his professional prospects. To the last day of his life he had a genuinely English love for the sea and sailors; and, short as his naval15 experience had been, neither he nor his countrymen were altogether losers by it. If the Midshipman of the Ernest had risen to be an Admiral, what would have become then of the author of Black-Eyed Susan?
Douglas's prospects were far from cheering when he returned to his home on shore. The affairs of Samuel Jerrold (through no fault of his own) had fallen into sad confusion. In his old age his vocation16 of manager sank from under him; his theatre was sold; and, at the end of the Waterloo year, he and his family found themselves compelled to leave Sheerness. On the first day of eighteen hundred and sixteen they sailed away in the Chatham boat, to try their fortune in London.
The first refuge of the Jerrolds was at Broad Court, Bow Street. Poor old Samuel was now past his work; and the chief dependence17 of the ruined family rested on Douglas and his mother. Mrs. 79 Samuel contrived18 to get some theatrical employment in London; and Douglas, after beginning life as an officer in the navy, was apprenticed19 to a printer, in Northumberland Street, Strand20.
He accepted his new position with admirable cheerfulness and resolution; honestly earning his money, and affectionately devoting it to the necessities of his parents. A delightful21 anecdote22 of him, at this time of his life, is told by his son. On one of the occasions when his mother and sister were absent in the country, the little domestic responsibility of comforting the poor worn-out old father with a good dinner, rested on Douglas's shoulders. With the small proceeds of his work, he bought all the necessary materials for a good beef-steak pie—made the pie himself, succeeding brilliantly with the crust—himself took it to the bake-house—and himself brought it back, with one of Sir Walter Scott's novels, which the dinner left him just money enough to hire from a library, for the purpose of reading a story to his father in the evening, by way of dessert. For our own parts, we shall henceforth always rank that beef-steak pie as one among the many other works of Douglas Jerrold which have established his claim to remembrance and to regard. The clue to the bright affectionate nature of the man—sometimes lost by those who knew him imperfectly, in after life—could hardly be found in any pleasanter or better place, 80 now that he is gone from among us, than on the poor dinner-table in Broad Court.
Although he was occupied for twelve hours out of the twenty-four at the printing-office, he contrived to steal time enough from the few idle intervals23 allowed for rest and meals, to store his mind with all the reading that lay within his reach. As early as at the age of fourteen, the literary faculty24 that was in him seems to have struggled to develop itself in short papers and scraps25 of verse. Only a year later, he made his first effort at dramatic composition, producing a little farce26, with a part in it for an old friend of the family, the late Mr. Wilkinson, the comedian27. Although Samuel Jerrold was well remembered among many London actors as an honest country manager; and although Douglas could easily secure, from his father's friends, his admission to the theatre whenever he was able to go to it, he does not appear to have possessed28 interest enough to gain a reading for his piece when it was first sent in to the English Opera House. After three years had elapsed, however, Mr. Wilkinson contrived to get the lad's farce produced at Sadler's Wells, under the title of More Frightened than Hurt. It was not only successful on its first representation, but it also won the rare honour of being translated for the French stage. More than this, it was afterwards translated back again, by a dramatist who was ignorant of its original 81 history, for the stage of the Olympic Theatre; where it figured in the bills under the new title of Fighting by Proxy29, with Liston in the part of the hero. Such is the history of Douglas Jerrold's first contribution to the English drama. When it was produced on the boards of Sadler's Wells, its author's age was eighteen years.
He had appeared in public, however, as an author, before this time; having composed some verses which were printed in a forgotten periodical called Arliss's Magazine. The loss of his first situation, through the bankruptcy30 of his master, obliged him to seek employment anew in the printing-office of one Mr. Bigg, who was also the editor of a newspaper called the Sunday Monitor. In this journal appeared his first article—a critical paper on Der Freischütz. He had gone to the theatre with an order to see the opera; and had been so struck by the supernatural drama and the wonderful music to which it was set, that he noted down his impressions of the performance, and afterwards dropped what he had written, anonymously31, into the editor's box. The next morning, his own article was handed to him to set up in type for the forthcoming number of the Sunday Monitor.
After this first encouragement, he began to use his pen frequently in the minor32 periodicals of the time; still sticking to the printer's work, however, and still 82 living at home with his family. The success of his little farce at Sadler's Wells led to his writing three more pieces for that theatre. They all succeeded; and the managers of some of the other minor theatres began to look after the new man. Just at this time, when his career as dramatist and journalist was beginning to open before him, his father died. After that loss, the next important event in his life was his marriage. In the year eighteen hundred and twenty-four, when he was twenty-one years of age, he married his "first love," Miss Mary Swann, the daughter of a gentleman who held an appointment in the Post Office. He and his bride settled, with his mother and sister and a kind old friend of his boyish days, in Holborn; and here—devoting his days to the newspapers, and his evenings to the drama—the newly-married man started as author by profession, and met the world and its cares bravely at the point of the pen.
The struggle at starting was a hard one. His principal permanent source of income was a small weekly salary paid to him as dramatist to the establishment, by one Davidge, manager of the Coburg (now the Victoria) Theatre. This man appears to have treated Jerrold, whose dramas brought both money and reputation to his theatre, with an utter want of common consideration and common gratitude33. He worked his poor author pitilessly; and it 83 is, on that account, highly satisfactory to know that he overreached himself in the end, by quarrelling with his dramatist, at the very time when Jerrold had a theatrical fortune (so far as managers' interests were concerned) lying in his desk, in the shape of Black-Eyed Susan. With that renowned34 play (the most popular of all nautical35 dramas) in his hand, Douglas left the Coburg to seek employment at the Surrey Theatre—then under the management of Mr. Elliston. This last tradesman in plays—who subsequently showed himself to be a worthy36 contemporary of the other tradesman at the Coburg—bid rather higher for Jerrold's services, and estimated the sole monopoly of the fancy, invention, and humour of a man who had already proved himself to be a popular, money-bringing dramatist, at the magnificent rate of five pounds a week. The bargain was struck; and Jerrold's first play produced at the Surrey Theatre was Black-Eyed Susan.
He had achieved many enviable dramatic successes before this time. He had written domestic dramas—such as Fifteen Years of a Drunkard's Life, and Ambrose Gwinett—the popularity of which is still well remembered by play-goers of the old generation. But the reception of Black-Eyed Susan eclipsed all previous successes of his or of any other dramatist's in that line. Mr. T. P. Cooke, who, as the French 84 say, "created" the part of William, not only found half London flocking into the Borough37 to see him; but was actually called upon, after acting38 in the play, as a first piece, at the Surrey Theatre, to drive off in his sailor's dress, and act in it again on the same night, as the last piece, at Covent Garden Theatre. Its first "run" mounted to three hundred nights: it afterwards drew money into the empty treasury39 of Drury Lane: it remains40, to this day, a "stock-piece" on which managers and actors know that they can depend; and, strangest phenomenon of all, it is impossible to see the play now, without feeling that its great and well-deserved dramatic success has been obtained with the least possible amount of assistance from the subtleties41 and refinements42 of dramatic art. The piece is indebted for its hold on the public sympathy solely43 to the simple force, the irresistible44 directness, of its appeal to some of the strongest affections in our nature. It has succeeded, and it will succeed, not because the dialogue is well, or, as to some passages of it, even naturally written; not because the story is neatly45 told, for it is (especially in the first act) full of faults in construction; but solely because the situations in which the characters are placed appeal to the hearts of every husband and every wife in the theatre. In this aspect of it, and in this only, the play is a study to any young writer; 85 for it shows on what amazingly simple foundations rest the main conditions of the longest, the surest, and the widest dramatic success.
It is sad, it is almost humiliating, to be obliged to add, in reference to the early history of Jerrold's first dramatic triumph, that his share of the gains which Black-Eyed Susan poured into the pockets of managers on both sides of the water was just seventy pounds. Mr. Elliston, whose theatre the play had raised from a state of something like bankruptcy to a condition of prosperity which, in the Surrey annals, has not since been paralleled, not only abstained46 from presenting Jerrold with the smallest fragment of anything in the shape of a token of gratitude, but actually had the pitiless insolence47 to say to him, after Black-Eyed Susan had run its three hundred nights, "My dear boy, why don't you get your friends to present you with a bit of plate?"[C] 86
The extraordinary success of Black-Eyed Susan opened the doors of the great theatres to Jerrold, as a matter of course. He made admirable use of the chances in his favour which he had so well deserved, and for which he had waited so long. At the Adelphi, at Drury Lane, and at the Haymarket, drama after drama flowed in quick succession from his pen. The Devil's Ducat, the Bride of Ludgate, the Rent Day, Nell Gwynne, the Housekeeper—this last, the best of his plays in point of construction—date, with many other dramatic works, from the period of his life now under review. The one slight check to his career of prosperity occurred in eighteen hundred and thirty-six, when he and his brother-in-law took the Strand Theatre, and when Jerrold acted a character in one of his own plays. Neither the theatrical speculation48 nor the theatrical appearance proved to be successful; and he wisely abandoned, from that time, all professional connection with the stage, except in his old and ever-welcome character of dramatist. In the other branches of his art—to which he devoted49 himself, at this turning-point of his career, as faithfully as he devoted himself to the theatrical branch—his progress was not less remarkable50. 87 As journalist and essayist, he rose steadily51 towards the distinguished52 place which was his due among the writers of his time. This middle term of his literary exertions53 produced, among other noticeable results, the series of social studies called Men of Character, originally begun in Blackwood's Magazine, and since republished among his collected works.
He had now advanced, in a social as well as in a literary point of view, beyond that period in the lives of self-made men which may be termed the adventurous54 period. Whatever difficulties and anxieties henceforth oppressed him were caused by the trials and troubles which, more or less, beset55 the exceptional lives of all men of letters. The struggle for a hearing, the fight for a fair field in which to show himself, had now been bravely and creditably accomplished56; and all that remains to be related of the life of Douglas Jerrold is best told in the history of his works.
Taking his peculiar57 literary gifts into consideration, the first great opportunity of his life, as a periodical writer, was offered to him, unquestionably, by the starting of Punch. The brilliant impromptu58 faculty which gave him a place apart, as thinker, writer, and talker, among the remarkable men of his time, was exactly the faculty which such a journal as Punch was calculated to develop to the utmost. The day on which Jerrold was secured as a contributor would 88 have been a fortunate day for that periodical, if he had written nothing in it but the far-famed Caudle Lectures, and the delightful Story of a Feather. But the service that he rendered to Punch must by no means be associated only with the more elaborate contributions to its pages which are publicly connected with his name. His wit often flashed out at its brightest, his sarcasm59 often cut with its keenest edge, in those well-timed paragraphs and short articles which hit the passing event of the day, and which, so far as their temporary purpose with the public is concerned, are all-important ingredients in the success of such a periodical as Punch. A contributor who can strike out new ideas from the original resources of his own mind, is one man, and a contributor who can be depended on for the small work-a-day emergencies which are felt one week and forgotten the next, is generally another. Jerrold united these two characters in himself; and the value of him to Punch, on that account only, can never be too highly estimated.
At this period of his life, the fertility of his mental resources showed itself most conspicuously60. While he was working for Punch, he was also editing and largely contributing to the Illuminated61 Magazine. In this publication appeared, among a host of shorter papers, the series called The Chronicles of Clovernook, which he himself always considered to be one 89 of his happiest efforts, and which does indeed contain, in detached passages, some of the best things that ever fell from his pen. On the cessation of The Illuminated Magazine, he started The Shilling Magazine, and contributed to it his well-known novel, Saint Giles and Saint James. These accumulated literary occupations and responsibilities would have been enough for most men; but Jerrold's inexhaustible energy and variety carried him on through more work still. Theatrical audiences now found their old favourite addressing them again, and occupying new ground as a writer of five act and three act comedies. Bubbles of the Day, Time Works Wonders, The Catspaw, Retired62 from Business, Saint Cupid, were all produced, with other plays, after the period when he became a regular writer in Punch.
Judged from the literary point of view these comedies were all original and striking contributions to the library of the stage. From the dramatic point of view, however, it must not be concealed63 that they were less satisfactory; and that some of them were scarcely so successful with audiences as their author's earlier and humbler efforts. The one solid critical reason which it is possible to assign for this, implies in itself a compliment which could be paid to no other dramatist of modern times. The perpetual glitter of Jerrold's wit seems to have blinded him to some of the more sober requirements of the Dramatic 90 art. When Charles Kemble said, and said truly, that there was wit enough for three comedies in Bubbles of the Day, he implied that this brilliant overflow64 left little or no room for the indispensable resources of story and situation to display themselves fairly on the stage. The comedies themselves, examined with reference to their success in representation, as well as to their intrinsic merits, help to support this view. Time Works Wonders was the most prosperous of all, and it is that comedy precisely65 which has the most story and the most situation in it. The idea and the management of the charming love-tale out of which the events of this play spring, show what Jerrold might have achieved in the construction of other plots, if his own superabundant wit had not dazzled him and led him astray. As it is, the readers of these comedies, who can appreciate the rich fancy, the delicate subtleties of thought, the masterly terseness66 of expression, and the exquisite67 play and sparkle of wit scattered68 over every page, may rest assured that they rather gain than lose—especially in the present condition of theatrical companies—by not seeing the last dramatic works of Douglas Jerrold represented on the stage.
The next, and, sad to say, the final achievement of his life, connected him most honourably69 and profitably with the newspaper press. Many readers will remember the starting of Douglas Jerrold's Weekly 91 Newspaper—its great temporary success—and then its sudden decline, through defects in management, to which it is not now necessary to refer at length. The signal ability with which the editorial articles in the paper were written, the remarkable aptitude70 which they displayed in striking straight at the sympathies of large masses of readers, did not escape the notice of men who were well fitted to judge of the more solid qualifications which go to the production of a popular journalist. In the spring of the year eighteen hundred and fifty-two, the proprietor71 of Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper proposed the editorship to Jerrold, on terms of such wise liberality as to ensure the ready acceptance of his offer. From the spring of eighteen hundred and fifty-two, to the spring of eighteen hundred and fifty-seven—the last he was ever to see—Jerrold conducted the paper, with such extraordinary success as is rare in the history of journalism72. Under his supervision73, and with the regular assistance of his pen, Lloyd's Newspaper rose, by thousands and thousands a week, to the great circulation which it now enjoys. Of the many successful labours of Jerrold's life, none had been so substantially prosperous as the labour that was destined to close it.
His health had shown signs of breaking, and his heart was known to be affected74, for some little time before his last brief illness; but the unconquerable 92 energy and spirit of the man upheld him through all bodily trials, until the first day of June, eighteen hundred and fifty-seven. Even his medical attendant did not abandon all hope when his strength first gave way. But he sank rapidly—so rapidly, that in one short week the struggle was over. On the eighth day of June, surrounded by his family and his friends, preserving all his faculties75 to the last, passing away calmly, resignedly, affectionately, Douglas Jerrold closed his eyes on the world which it had been the long and noble purpose of his life to inform and to improve.
It is too early yet to attempt any estimate of the place which his writings will ultimately occupy in English literature. So long as honesty, energy, and variety are held to be the prominent qualities which should distinguish a genuine writer, there can be no doubt of the vitality76 of Douglas Jerrold's reputation. The one objection urged against the works, which, feeble and ignorant though it was, often went to the heart of the writer, was the objection of bitterness. Calling to mind many of the passages in his books in which this bitterness most sharply appears, and seeing plainly in those passages what the cause was that provoked it, we venture to speak out our own opinion boldly, and to acknowledge at once, that we admire this so-called bitterness as one of the great and valuable qualities of Douglas Jerrold's writings; 93 because we can see for ourselves that it springs from the uncompromising earnestness and honesty of the author. In an age when it is becoming unfashionable to have a positive opinion about anything; when the detestable burlesque77 element scatters78 its profanation79 with impunity80 on all beautiful and all serious things; when much, far too much, of the current literature of the day vibrates contemptibly81 between unbelieving banter82 and unblushing clap-trap, that element of bitterness in Jerrold's writings—which never stands alone in them; which is never disassociated from the kind word that goes before, or the generous thought that comes after—is in our opinion an essentially83 wholesome84 element, breathing that admiration85 of truth, and that hatred86 of falsehood, which is the chiefest and brightest jewel in the crown of any writer, living or dead.
This same cry of bitterness, which assailed87 him in his literary character, assailed him in his social character also. Absurd as the bare idea of bitterness must appear in connection with such a nature as his, to those who really knew him, the reason why strangers so often and so ridiculously misunderstood him, is not difficult to discover. That marvellous brightness and quickness of perception which has distinguished him far and wide as the sayer of some of the wittiest88, and often some of the wisest things also, in the English language, expressed itself almost 94 with the suddenness of lightning. This absence of all appearance of artifice89 or preparation, this flash and readiness which made the great charm of his wit, rendered him, at the same time, quite incapable90 of suppressing a good thing from prudential considerations. It sparkled off his tongue before he was aware of it. It was always a bright surprise to himself; and it never occurred to him that it could be anything but a bright surprise to others. All his so-called bitter things, were said with a burst of hearty91 schoolboy laughter, which showed how far he was himself from attaching a serious importance to them. Strangers apparently92 failed to draw this inference, plain as it was; and often mistook him accordingly. If they had seen him in the society of children; if they had surprised him in the house of any one of his literary brethren who was in difficulty and distress93; if they had met him by the bedside of a sick friend, how simply and how irresistibly94 the gentle, generous, affectionate nature of the man would then have disclosed itself to the most careless chance acquaintance who ever misunderstood him! Very few men have won the loving regard of so many friends so rapidly, and have kept that regard so enduringly to the last day of their lives, as Douglas Jerrold.
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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lessee
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| n.（房地产的）租户 | |
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cherubs
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| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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apprenticed
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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delightful
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anecdote
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intervals
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| 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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faculty
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scraps
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farce
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comedian
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possessed
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proxy
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| n.代理权，代表权；（对代理人的）委托书；代理人 | |
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bankruptcy
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anonymously
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minor
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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borough
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acting
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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terseness
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| 简洁，精练 | |
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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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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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scatters
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| v.（使）散开， （使）分散，驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 )；撒 | |
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profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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contemptibly
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| adv.卑鄙地，下贱地 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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assailed
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| 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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wittiest
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| 机智的，言辞巧妙的，情趣横生的( witty的最高级 ) | |
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artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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