I HAVE never passed a season in Cairo without making a study of some sort in the Blue Mosque. There are many mosques2 of much greater architectural pretensions3, as well as of more historical interest; but so long as artists continue to flock to Egypt in search of subjects, so long will the Blue Mosque serve them for material. On entering the blue-tiled liwán after a tramp through the glare and the dust of the open spaces around the citadel4, something of the pleasure is experienced of him who, after a desert journey, first rests his eyes on the green of cultivation5. The pleasure is as much a physical as an intellectual one, for the hot season draws one there far more than does the cold. The temperature would be no higher were the walls a scarlet6, but I’m sure it would be more felt; and this is not only so to those whose training inclines them to search out beautiful colour, for I have observed that more people come here to sleep through the heat of the day than to any other mosque.
The actual structure was raised by a certain Aksunkur during the middle of the fourteenth century, and many much finer mosques of that period are still remaining. It was restored more than three117 centuries later by Ibrahim Agha, and, whatever the purist may have to say to the contrary, it is these restorations which give the charm to the place.
Blue tiles cover the whole wall of the vast liwán; from the matted pavement to the spring of the vaulting7 they spread around the prayer-niche till, high up, they reach the ribbing of the dome8. This was a great undertaking9 of Ibrahim Agha, for though the tiles were not worth the fancy prices of the present day, it must have been a very costly10 affair even in his time. The domed11 chapel12, containing the tomb of the founder13, is more beautiful still, but it is almost too dark to make painting a possibility.
The look of neglect and gentle decay is not depressing, as in many a Cairene building which lies under the sentence of complete renovation14 or of a total collapse15. Some structural16 repairs have lately been made, which were doubtless badly needed; but I hope it may stop at that. The Moslem17 has all he wants now for his frequent prayers or his midday nap, and no renovation of the mosque would ever compensate18 for the loss of its present charm.
The mosques of Cairo can be an endless source of instruction to any one interested in the builder’s art, their number is so great (over four hundred) and they are so varied19 in character; they suit their surroundings as if they had grown into the spaces they occupy, and those who worship there look as if they had been grown for that purpose.
Interesting as are the temples of ancient Egypt, they have not the human interest of the Cairene mosques.118 Old and decrepit20 as the latter may be, the beauty of life is still there; the temple at its best has but the beauty of a corpse21. The restoration of the mosques, if well done, as happily is often the case here, may rob them of some temporary charm, but it preserves to the people a valuable heritage; whereas the restored temples will merely give future generations something to laugh at.
What temple is grander than Tulún’s mosque? Or in which of them did the builder’s art excel that of the Sultan Hassan? Yet how few visit these mosques compared with the crowds who are rushed through the temples of Upper Egypt. The one of all others which every tourist is taken to see is the mosque of Mohammed Ali, which crowns the citadel heights. It is imposing22 from its magnificent position; but who ever leaves it with any higher thought than of the money which has been lavished23 on it?
An appreciative24 guide to the mosques may now be found in Douglas Sladen’s Oriental Cairo, and to do here inadequately25 what he has done so well is not the purpose of these pages.
If so much enjoyment26 is to be got out of the study of Saracenic structures, what about the early Christian27 churches? They provide less ?sthetic entertainment than do the mosques, solely28 because their number is very much more restricted. But where in this wide world can any one interested in the dawn of Christianity find a spot to appeal more to his sympathies than in the seven Coptic churches which cluster round the old fortress29 of Babylon? Concealed30 as they are from public view, one enters their precincts with much the same feelings119 as on entering the catacombs of Rome. Within the walls of this Christian settlement, dark and narrow passages lead to the unobtrusive interiors of the churches. The search for the doorkeeper, and when he is found, the primitive31 key with which he unbolts the ponderous32 lock, and the man’s dress, which twelve centuries of Mohammedan rule has not altered, all tend to take one back to the days when in these hidden places the shrines33 of Abu-Sarga and of Kadisa-Barbára were raised.
The first of these two, which is more familiar to us as Saint Sergius, is usually visited before the others. It dates from the tenth century, when the more tolerant rule of the first Fátimid khalifs would allow of its construction; but it stands on the site of a church of a very much earlier date. The crypt of its predecessor35 still remains36, and this takes one back to the times when Memphis stood where some rubbish hills now only mark its site on the western banks of the Nile; when Bab-li-On was in truth the southern gate of On, the ‘City of the Sun,’ of which nothing now is visible but the obelisk37 of Heliopolis.
A tree marks the spot where the Virgin38 and the child Jesus are said to have rested. It is about a mile this side of the obelisk, and some fifteen miles from the fortress of Babylon which the Romans built on the site of the gate of On, and whose name it retained. Tradition has it that near this tree the Virgin bathed her child in some brackish39 water, and this becoming sweet, the pilgrims to this day drink of that fountain. Tradition helps us to trace the journey of the Holy Family from this tree to the crypt below the church of120 Abu-Sarga, for it tells us of another resting-place about midway, and that is Joseph’s well on the citadel hill.
We are taken down some dilapidated steps to visit the crypt, which we are told was the Egyptian house of Joseph and Mary while they hid their child from Herod’s wrath40. Needless to say that the crypt is a Christian structure, and of a later date than the Roman fortress, which at its earliest is placed in the second century of our Lord. But there is no reason why this spot should not have been chosen by the Holy Family after their flight into Egypt. Some ruined shrine34 to a god of the decadent41 mythology42 may have stood here in which they may have made their home, as the early Christians43 oftentimes did some three centuries later. To build a church on so hallowed a spot would have been the first thought of these Christians, if any record still remained. When Babylon was besieged44 by the Mohammedan invaders45, this church might have then been destroyed, or if it survived so long a siege, it would have disappeared after Merwán, the last of the Omayyad khalifs, had set fire to Fostat.
Be this as it may, it is quite probable that this pretty tradition has some foundation in fact.
There is little at present to see in the crypt by the light of the tallow dip which the Coptic servant holds in his fingers, but I should have regretted not to have seen that little. The tenth-century church above it is a little gem46, and however much the dirt of those who attend it, and the formal ritual which few of the worshippers can understand, may prejudice one against the modern Copts, the fact remains that their faith has121 withstood centuries of persecution47. Stanley Lane-Poole wisely remarks that ‘no one can stand unmoved in a Coptic church during the celebration of the Mass, or hear the worshippers shout with one voice, just as they did some fifteen hundred years ago, the loud response, “I believe this is the Truth,” without emotion.’
The whole of the Coptic settlement here is built within the girdle-wall of the Roman castle of Babylon, or ‘el-Kasr-esh-Shema,’ as the natives still call it. This Arabic name, ‘The Castle of the Sun,’ emphasises the position it held in regard to ancient Heliopolis, of which it was a bulwark48. We also hear mention of this esh-Shema in the prophecies of Jeremiah xliii. 13: ‘He shall break also the images of Beth-shemesh, that is in the land of Egypt; and the houses of the gods of the Egyptians shall he burn with fire.’
Perched up between two bastions of the Roman castle, and over its gate, is the Mu’állaka or the ‘hanging’ church. Less rich in traditions than its neighbour, with some of its romance destroyed by a modern approach, it gives the intelligent visitor even greater pleasure than Abu-Sarga which he has seen. He may confuse its plan with that of the neighbouring churches, and time may obliterate49 the construction of its piers51 and barrel-shaped roof, but never will he forget the little Byzantine pulpit standing52 on the fifteen slender Saracenic columns, and relieved against as rich a screen as ever closed in a sanctuary53.
I have attempted to enter into more of the details of these Coptic churches in Below the Cataracts54, also of the history of Fostat, the ‘Town of the Tent,’ which122 Amr Ibn el-?s built around the fortress of Babylon, and which during successive dynasties of khalifs was extended until it covered the space now occupied by the old city of Cairo. The topography and history has been admirably given to us by Stanley Lane-Poole; students of early Christian architecture can find all that is known of the Coptic churches in that scholarly work of Dr. A. J. Butler, The Ancient Coptic Churches of Egypt.
I cannot, however, refrain from mentioning the ‘hanging garden’ which adjoins the Mu’állaka. The palms which grow there, high above the fertilising Nile, are watered by the faithful to perpetuate55 the tradition that the Virgin Mary, on arriving at her new abode56, first broke her fast with some dates which she culled57 from a palm-tree growing near this spot.
Four more Coptic churches are within easy reach of this one, and as parts of them date back to the third century, there is much to occupy the time of the arch?ologist even if the artist does not always find what is best suited to his brush.
The fortress of Babylon and the Coptic settlement within its walls are two or three miles south-west of the main part of the city, and situated58 at the back of an old suburb, opposite the island of Rodah, known as Old Cairo. This name is misleading, for the present medi?val Cairo existed long before this suburb, which was built on land recovered from the Nile after Fostat had become a ruinous waste. It looks old enough now, but it does not require many generations to impart an ancient appearance to the poorer Arab dwellings59.
123 The Kasr-esh-Shema, on the higher level, is that part which might justly be called Old, for it is the nucleus60 from which the present huge city developed.
There are also several Coptic churches in Cairo proper, and one in Beyn es-Sureen, near the Armenian Church, is said to be the oldest in Egypt, and consequently one of the earliest churches in Christendom. A portion of the Copts, who have joined communion with the Roman Catholics, have their church close by. I saw a great deal of their priest, and of some leading members of his community, while I spent a summer in a village on the Lebanon. They had gone there partly for their health and partly to escape the hottest months of the Egyptian summer. The priest was a very different type of man intellectually from the lethargic61 monks62 I met in the convents at Wadi el-Natrún. I am indebted to him for much information about the Catholic churches in the Near East. He had been prepared for Holy Orders in Rome, although he and his community are under allegiance to the Pope, and do not call themselves Roman Catholics, but members of the Coptic Catholic Church, while they are very tenacious63 of the privileges which they secured when they seceded64 from the main body of the Copts. The priests are allowed to marry, and also to say Mass in the obsolete65 Coptic language. My friend told me that though allowed to marry if he wished to do so, he had come to the conclusion that the Latin Church was right in enforcing celibacy66 on its clergy67. ‘No! no! no!’ from the ladies who were present at our conversation, shows that my friend’s views were not popular.
124 Similar privileges have been allowed to the other members of eastern Christian churches when they submitted to the Church of Rome. It is the exception when their priests go to a theological college at Rome, and the great majority evidently do not hold my friend’s views on matrimony, for few remain single.
As only the Church of Rome repeats the Mass in Latin, it might have been expected that the eastern churches under her authority would have made use of languages understood by their congregations. But this is not so. No Copt can understand the Coptic liturgy68 which he hears repeated; only a few cultured Syrian Maronites can follow the Syriac Mass, and the Catholic Greeks, the Armenians, and the Chaldeans all hear the liturgy in languages long obsolete.
My friend could follow the meaning of the Coptic phrases he daily used; but apart from these, Coptic is a dead language to him. He kindly69 repeated the Lord’s Prayer to me, and, with possibly an Arabic accent, his words must have sounded the same as those in use in the days of the Ptolemies. A few Coptic words have still survived and are in use amongst the peasantry of Upper Egypt, and possibly philologists70 may discover some in the colloquial71 Arabic of the Delta72. It is in Upper Egypt that we still find the type portrayed73 in the ancient sculptures, amongst the Moslems as well as the Christians; but in the Delta the Copt shows his ancestry74 more conspicuously75, as the Moslems amongst whom he dwells have there a greater admixture of Arab blood. I was very much struck with the resemblance a Coptic gentleman, who was staying at the same inn125 as myself, bore to the celebrated76 ‘Sheykh-el-Beled,’ the fifth dynasty statue in the Cairo museum. He was younger and not as stout77 as the statue, but he might have passed for a younger brother. The broad nose and full lips, the rather prominent cheek-bones, and a slight upward inclination78 of the eyes from the nose, were all there as in his prototype of some sixty centuries ago. I remarked to him that while we were savages79 his forebears were the greatest people in the world. His answer was, ‘Yes; and now you are the greatest people in the world, while we are the savages.’ Lane remarks that the Egyptian, in answering a question, is more likely to say what he thinks may be agreeable to his hearer than to stick to the absolute truth. This looked rather like it.
I have heard our missionaries80 accused of deceiving the subscribers to the missions, by stating the numbers of their converts and not specifying81 whether these converts were from Islam or were merely Copts who had changed from one form of Christianity to another. If this is true, the subscribers might justly feel that they had been deceived. But I should like further proof of this accusation82 before accepting the truth of it; the tendency of Europeans in the East is to believe anything which may discredit83 the missionary84. That Islam is a barrier which the missionary has so far failed to break through is true enough, and missionaries whom I have met have been the first to admit this. Can one wonder, then, that they turn from so barren a soil to sow their seed amongst the Copts, who have shown some tendency to receive it? The faith of the Copts126 has sustained them through centuries of persecution; but it is amazing how stagnant85 a faith may sometimes hold a people together.
When I think of those lazy monks at Wadi el-Natrún; their neglected chapels86; their barren gardens, though water was there had they the energy to draw it; I marvel87 how this people has ever risen to be a power in Egypt. That they are a power to be reckoned with we have lately seen. The common mistake of judging a people from a few specimens88 who are forced into one’s notice is evident here. A very much larger proportion of them are literate50 compared with the Moslem Egyptians, and they fill, in consequence, a much larger proportion of situations where some instruction, other than that of the Koran, is necessary. The grievance89 they are ventilating is that they do not get their share of the highly salaried government posts, and as far as I could ascertain90, they have a subject of complaint. Their numbers will probably increase largely, now that persecution no more drives their weaker brethren into the folds of Islam. They are fervent91 in business if they do not always serve the Lord, and some have accumulated great wealth.
The black and sometimes the blue turban, which distinguishes them from the Mohammedans, was originally forced on them with other and more vexatious enactments92; they still wear it, however, though of course free to put on what they like. The women used to wear the face veil when out of doors, more as a protection than as an ordinance93 of their religion, and at present most of them have discarded it.
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1 mosque | |
n.清真寺 | |
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2 mosques | |
清真寺; 伊斯兰教寺院,清真寺; 清真寺,伊斯兰教寺院( mosque的名词复数 ) | |
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3 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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4 citadel | |
n.城堡;堡垒;避难所 | |
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5 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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6 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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7 vaulting | |
n.(天花板或屋顶的)拱形结构 | |
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8 dome | |
n.圆屋顶,拱顶 | |
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9 undertaking | |
n.保证,许诺,事业 | |
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10 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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11 domed | |
adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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12 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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13 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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14 renovation | |
n.革新,整修 | |
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15 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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16 structural | |
adj.构造的,组织的,建筑(用)的 | |
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17 Moslem | |
n.回教徒,穆罕默德信徒;adj.回教徒的,回教的 | |
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18 compensate | |
vt.补偿,赔偿;酬报 vi.弥补;补偿;抵消 | |
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19 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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20 decrepit | |
adj.衰老的,破旧的 | |
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21 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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22 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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23 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 appreciative | |
adj.有鉴赏力的,有眼力的;感激的 | |
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25 inadequately | |
ad.不够地;不够好地 | |
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26 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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27 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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28 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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29 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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30 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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31 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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32 ponderous | |
adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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33 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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34 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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35 predecessor | |
n.前辈,前任 | |
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36 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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37 obelisk | |
n.方尖塔 | |
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38 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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39 brackish | |
adj.混有盐的;咸的 | |
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40 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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41 decadent | |
adj.颓废的,衰落的,堕落的 | |
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42 mythology | |
n.神话,神话学,神话集 | |
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43 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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44 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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46 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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47 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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48 bulwark | |
n.堡垒,保障,防御 | |
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49 obliterate | |
v.擦去,涂抹,去掉...痕迹,消失,除去 | |
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50 literate | |
n.学者;adj.精通文学的,受过教育的 | |
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51 piers | |
n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 );(常设有娱乐场所的)突堤;柱子;墙墩 | |
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52 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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53 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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54 cataracts | |
n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 );白内障 | |
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55 perpetuate | |
v.使永存,使永记不忘 | |
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56 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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57 culled | |
v.挑选,剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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59 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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60 nucleus | |
n.核,核心,原子核 | |
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61 lethargic | |
adj.昏睡的,懒洋洋的 | |
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62 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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63 tenacious | |
adj.顽强的,固执的,记忆力强的,粘的 | |
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64 seceded | |
v.脱离,退出( secede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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66 celibacy | |
n.独身(主义) | |
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67 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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68 liturgy | |
n.礼拜仪式 | |
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69 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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70 philologists | |
n.语文学( philology的名词复数 ) | |
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71 colloquial | |
adj.口语的,会话的 | |
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72 delta | |
n.(流的)角洲 | |
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73 portrayed | |
v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 );描述;描绘;描画 | |
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74 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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75 conspicuously | |
ad.明显地,惹人注目地 | |
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76 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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78 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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79 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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80 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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81 specifying | |
v.指定( specify的现在分词 );详述;提出…的条件;使具有特性 | |
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82 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
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83 discredit | |
vt.使不可置信;n.丧失信义;不信,怀疑 | |
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84 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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85 stagnant | |
adj.不流动的,停滞的,不景气的 | |
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86 chapels | |
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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87 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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88 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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89 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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90 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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91 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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92 enactments | |
n.演出( enactment的名词复数 );展现;规定;通过 | |
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93 ordinance | |
n.法令;条令;条例 | |
参考例句: |
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