Who was to be Mr. Woodward’s successor? For some weeks we had lived in a state of agitated1 expectancy2. One morning, soon after breakfast, a card was brought to me—The Rev3. Cyril Cuthbert. I went down to the drawing-room and found my mother talking to a young clergyman, who rose at my entrance, and informed me that he had been offered the living, and that he had ventured to call and consult me, adding that he had been told I was all-powerful in the parish. I was distinctly prepossessed by his appearance, and perhaps by his appreciation6, however exaggerated, of my influence; he was a small man with thin features, but bronzed and active; his hair was parted in the middle and lay in wiry waves on each side. He had small, almost feminine, hands and feet, and rather a delicate walk. He was entirely7 self-possessed5, very genial8 in talk, with a pleasant laugh; at the same time he gave me an impression[137] of strength. He was dressed in very old and shabby clothes, of decidedly clerical cut, but his hat and coat were almost green from exposure to weather. Yet he was obviously a gentleman. I gathered that he was the son of a country squire9, that he had been at a public school and Oxford10, and that he had been for some years a curate in a large manufacturing town. As we talked my impressions became more definite; the muscles of the jaw11 were strongly developed, and I began to fancy that the genial manner concealed12 a considerable amount of self-will. He had the eye which I have been led to associate with the fanatic13, of a certain cold blue, shallow and impenetrable, which does not let you far into the soul, but meets you with a bright and unshrinking gaze.
At his request I accompanied him to church and vicarage. At the latter, he said to me frankly14 that he was a poor man, and that he would not be able to keep it up in the same style—“Indeed,” he said with a smile, “I don’t think it would be right to do so.” I said that I didn’t think it very material, but that as a matter of fact I thought that the perfection of Mr. Woodward’s arrangements had had a[138] humanising influence in the place. At the church he was pleased at the neatness and general air of use that the building had; but he looked with disfavour at the simple arrangements of the chancel. I noticed that he bowed and murmured a few words of prayer when he entered the building. When we had examined the church he said to me, “To speak frankly, Mr. ——,—I don’t know what your views are,—but what is the church tone of this place like?” I said that I hardly knew how to describe it—the church certainly played a large part in the lives of the parishioners; but that I supposed that Mr. Woodward would perhaps be called old-fashioned. “Yes, indeed,” sighed Mr. Cuthbert, looking wearily round and shrugging his shoulders. “The altar indeed is distinctly dishonouring15 to the Blessed Sacrament—no attempt at Catholic practice or tradition. There is not, I see, even a second altar in the church; but, please God, if He sends me here we will change all that.”
Before we left the church he fell on his knees and prayed with absolute self-absorption.
When we got outside he said to me: “May I tell you something? I have just returned[139] from a visit to a friend of mine, a priest at A——; he has got everything—simply everything; he is a noble fellow—if I could but hope to imitate him.”
A—— was, I knew, a great railway dep?t, and thinking that Mr. Cuthbert did not fully16 understand how very rural a parish we were, I said, “I am afraid there is not very much scope here for great activity. We have a reading-room and a club, but it has never been a great success—the people won’t turn out in the evenings.”
“Reading-rooms and clubs,” said Mr. Cuthbert in high disdain17; “I did not mean that kind of thing at all—I was thinking of things much nearer the heart of the people. Herries has incense18 and lights, the eucharistic vestments, he reserves the sacrament—you may see a dozen people kneeling before the tabernacle whenever you enter the church—he has often said to me that he doesn’t know how he could keep hope alive in his heart in the midst of such vice19 and sin, if it were not for the thought of the Blessed Presence, in the midst of it, in the quiet church. He has a sisterhood in his parish too under a very strict rule. They never leave the convent, and spend whole[140] days in intercession. The sacrament has been reserved there for fifteen years. Then confession20 is urged plainly upon all, and it is a sight to make one thrill with joy to see the great rough navvies bending before Herries as he sits in his embroidered21 stole, they telling him the secrets of their hearts, and he bringing them nearer to the joy of their Lord. Some of the workmen in the parish are the most frequent at confession. Oh! he is a noble fellow; he tells me he has no time for visiting—positively no time at all. His whole day is spent in deepening the devotional life—the hours are recited in the church—he gives up ten hours every week to the direction of penitents22, and he must spend, I should say, two hours a day at his priedieu. He says he could not have strength for his work if he did not. His sermons are beautiful; he speaks from the heart without preparation. He says he has learnt to trust the Spirit, and just says what is given him to say.
“Then he is devoted23 to his choristers, and they to him; it is a privilege to see him surrounded by them in their little cassocks while he leads them in a simple meditation24. And he is a man of a deeply tender spirit—I have[141] seen him, dining with his curates, burst into tears at the mere25 mention of the name of the dear Mother of Christ. I ought not to trouble you with all this—I am too enthusiastic! But the sight of him has put it into my heart more than anything else I have ever known to try and build up a really Catholic centre, which might do something to leaven26 the heavy Protestantism which is the curse of England. One more thing which especially struck me; it moved me to tears to hear one of his great rough fellows—a shunter, I believe, who is often overthrown27 by the demon28 of strong drink—talk so simply and faithfully of the Holy Mass: what rich associations that word has! Nothing but eternity29 will ever reveal the terrible loss which the disuse of that splendid word has inflicted30 on our unhappy England.”
I was too much bewildered by this statement to make any adequate reply, but said to console him that I thought the parish was wonderfully good, and prepared to look upon the clergyman as a friend. “Yes,” said Mr. Cuthbert, “that is all very well for a beginning, but it must be something more than that. They must revere31 him as steward32 of the mysteries[142] of God—they must be ready to open their inmost heart to him; they must come to recognise that it is through him, as a consecrated33 priest of Christ, that the highest spiritual blessings34 can reach them: that he alone can confer upon them the absolution which can set them free from the guilt35 of sin.”
I felt that I ought not to let Mr. Cuthbert think that I was altogether of the same mind with him in these matters and so I said: “Well, you must remember that all this is unfamiliar36 here; Mr. Woodward did not approve of confession—he held that habitual37 confession was weakening to the moral nature, and encouraged the most hysterical38 kind of egotism—though no one was more ready to listen to any one’s troubles and to give the most loving advice in real difficulties. But as to the point about absolution, I think he felt, and I should agree with him, that God only can forgive sin, and that the clergy4 are merely the human interpreters of that forgiveness; it is so much more easy to apprehend39 a great moral principle like the forgiveness of sin from another human being than to arrive at it in the silence of one’s own troubled heart.”
Mr. Cuthbert smiled, not very pleasantly,[143] and said, “I had hoped you would have shared my views more warmly—it is a disappointment! seriously, the power to bind40 and loose conferred on the Apostles by Christ Himself—does that mean nothing?”
“Yes, indeed,” I said, “the clergy are the accredited41 ministers in the matter, of course, and they have a sacred charge, but as to powers conferred upon the Apostles, it seems that other powers were conferred on His followers42 which they no longer possess—they were to drink poison with impunity43, handle venomous snakes, and even to heal the sick.”
“Purely44 local and temporary provisions,” said Mr. Cuthbert, “which we have no doubt forfeited45—if indeed we have forfeited them—by want of faith. The other was a gift for time and eternity.”
“I don’t remember,” I said, “that any such distinction was laid down in the Gospel—but in any case you would not maintain, would you, that they possessed the power proprio motu? To push it to extremes, that if a man was absolved46 by a priest, God’s forgiveness was bound to follow, even if the priest were deceived as to the reality of the penitence47 which claimed forgiveness.”
[144]
Mr. Cuthbert frowned and said, “To me it is not a question of theorising. It is a purely practical matter. I look upon it in this way—if a man is absolved by a priest, he is sure he is forgiven; if he is not, he cannot be sure of forgiveness.”
“I should hold,” I said, “that it was purely a matter of inner penitence. But I did not mean to entangle48 you in a theological argument—and I hope we are at one on essential matters.”
As we walked back I pointed49 out to him some of my favourite views—the long back of the distant downs; the dark forest tract50 that closed the northern horizon—but he looked with courteous51 indifference52: his heart was full of Catholic tradition.
We heard a few days after that he had accepted the living, and we asked him to come and stay with us while he was getting into the vicarage, which he was furnishing with austere53 severity. Mr. Woodward’s pleasant dark study became a somewhat grim library, with books in deal shelves, carpeted with matting and with a large deal table to work at. Mr. Cuthbert dwelt much on the thought of sitting there in a cassock with a tippet, but I[145] do not think he had any of the instincts of a student—it was rather the mise-en-scène that pleased him. A bedroom became an oratory54, with a large ivory crucifix. The dining-room he called his refectory, and he had a scheme at one time of having two young men to do the housework and cooking, which fortunately fell through, though they were to have had cassocks with cord-girdles, and to have been called lay brothers. On the other hand he was a very pleasant visitor, as long as theological discussions were avoided. He was bright, gay, outwardly sympathetic, full of a certain kind of humour, and with all the ways of a fine gentleman. The more I disagreed with him the more I liked him personally.
One evening after dinner, as we sat smoking—he was a great smoker—we had a rather serious discussion. I said to him that I really should like to understand what his theory of church work was.
Catholic Tradition
“It is all summed up in two phrases,” said Mr. Cuthbert. “Catholic practice—Catholic tradition. I hold that the Reformation inflicted a grievous blow upon this country. To break with Rome was almost inevitable55, I admit, because of the corruption56 of doctrine[146] that was beginning; but we need not have thrown over all manner of high and holy ways and traditions, solemn accessories of worship, tender assistances to devotion, any more than the Puritans were bound to break statues and damage stained glass windows.”
“Quite so,” I said; “but where does this Catholic tradition come from?”
“From the Primitive57 Church,” said Mr. Cuthbert. “As far back as we can trace the history of church practice we find these, or many of these, exquisite58 ceremonies, which I for one think it a solemn duty to try and restore.”
“But after all,” I said, “they are of human origin, are they not? You would not say that they have a divine sanction?”
“Well,” said Mr. Cuthbert, “their sanction is practically divine. We read that in the last days spent by our Lord in His glorified59 nature on the earth, He ‘spake to them of the things concerning the Kingdom of God.’ I myself think it is only reasonable to suppose that He was laying down the precise ceremonial that He wished should attend the worship[147] of His Kingdom. I do not think that extravagant60.”
“But,” I said, “was not the whole tenor61 of His teaching against such ceremonial precision? Did He not for His Sacraments choose the simplest and humblest actions of daily life—eating and drinking? Was He not always finding fault with the Pharisees for forgetting spiritual truth in their zeal62 for tradition and practice?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Cuthbert, “for forgetting the weightier matters of the law; but He approved of their ceremonial. He said: ‘These ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone63.’”
“I believe myself,” I said, “that He felt they should have obeyed their conscience in the matter; but surely the whole of the teaching of the Gospel is to loose human beings from tyranny of detail, and to teach them to live a simple life on great principles?”
“I cannot agree,” said Mr. Cuthbert. “The instinct for reverence64, for the reverent65 and seemly expression of spiritual feeling, for the symbolic66 representation of spiritual feeling, for the symbolic representation of divine truths is a depreciated67 one, but a true one; and[148] this instinct He graciously defined, fortified68, and consecrated; and I believe that the Church was following the true guidance of the Spirit in the matter, when it slowly built up the grand and massive fabric69 of Catholic practice and tradition.”
“But,” I said, “who are the Church? There are a great many people who feel the exact opposite of what you maintain—and true Christians70 too.”
“They are grievously mistaken,” said Mr. Cuthbert, “and suffer an irreparable loss.”
“A General ?cumenical Council would be competent to do so,” said Mr. Cuthbert.
“Do you mean of the Anglican Communion?” I said.
“Oh dear, no,” said Mr. Cuthbert. “The Anglican Communion indeed! No; such a Council must have representatives of all Churches who have received and maintain the Divine succession.”
“But,” said I, “you must know that the thing is impossible. Who could summon such a Council, and who would attend it?”
“That is not my business,” said Mr. Cuthbert;[149] “I do not want any such Council. I am sure of my position; it is only you and others who wish to sacrifice the most exquisite part of Christian71 life who need such a solution. I am content with what I know; and humbly73 and faithfully I shall attempt as far as I can to follow the dictates74 of my conscience in the matter to endeavor to bring it home to the consciences of my flock.”
I felt I could not carry the argument further without loss of temper; but it was surprising to me how I continued to like, and even to respect, the man.
He has not, it must be confessed, obtained any great hold on the parish. Mr. Woodward’s quiet, delicate, fatherly work has gone; but Mr. Cuthbert has a few women who attend confession, and he is content. He has adorned75 the church according to his views, and the congregation think it rather pretty. They do not dislike his sermons, though they do not understand them; and as for his vestments, they regard them with a mild and somewhat bewildered interest. They like to see Mr. Cuthbert, he is so pleasant and good-humoured. He is assiduous in his visiting, and very assiduous in holding daily services,[150] which are entirely unattended. He has no priestly influence; and I fear it would pain him deeply if he knew that his social influence is considerable. Personally, I find him a pleasant neighbour and highly congenial companion. We have many agreeable talks; and when I am in that irritable76 tense mood which is apt to develop in solitude77, and which can only be cleared by an ebullition of spleen, I walk up to the vicarage and have a theological argument. It does neither myself nor Mr. Cuthbert any harm, and we are better friends than ever—indeed, he calls me quite the most agreeable Erastian he knows.
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1 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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2 expectancy | |
n.期望,预期,(根据概率统计求得)预期数额 | |
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3 rev | |
v.发动机旋转,加快速度 | |
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4 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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5 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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6 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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7 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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8 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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9 squire | |
n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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10 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
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11 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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12 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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13 fanatic | |
n.狂热者,入迷者;adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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14 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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15 dishonouring | |
使(人、家族等)丧失名誉(dishonour的现在分词形式) | |
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16 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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17 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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18 incense | |
v.激怒;n.香,焚香时的烟,香气 | |
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19 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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20 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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21 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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22 penitents | |
n.后悔者( penitent的名词复数 );忏悔者 | |
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23 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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24 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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25 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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26 leaven | |
v.使发酵;n.酵母;影响 | |
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27 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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28 demon | |
n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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29 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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30 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 revere | |
vt.尊崇,崇敬,敬畏 | |
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32 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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33 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
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34 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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35 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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36 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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37 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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38 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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39 apprehend | |
vt.理解,领悟,逮捕,拘捕,忧虑 | |
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40 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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41 accredited | |
adj.可接受的;可信任的;公认的;质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 );委托;委任;把…归结于 | |
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42 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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43 impunity | |
n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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44 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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45 forfeited | |
(因违反协议、犯规、受罚等)丧失,失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46 absolved | |
宣告…无罪,赦免…的罪行,宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 ); 不受责难,免除责任 [义务] ,开脱(罪责) | |
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47 penitence | |
n.忏悔,赎罪;悔过 | |
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48 entangle | |
vt.缠住,套住;卷入,连累 | |
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49 pointed | |
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50 tract | |
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51 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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52 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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53 austere | |
adj.艰苦的;朴素的,朴实无华的;严峻的 | |
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54 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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55 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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56 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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57 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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58 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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59 glorified | |
美其名的,变荣耀的 | |
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60 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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61 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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62 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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63 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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64 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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65 reverent | |
adj.恭敬的,虔诚的 | |
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66 symbolic | |
adj.象征性的,符号的,象征主义的 | |
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67 depreciated | |
v.贬值,跌价,减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 );贬低,蔑视,轻视 | |
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68 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
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69 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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70 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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71 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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72 nettled | |
v.拿荨麻打,拿荨麻刺(nettle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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73 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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74 dictates | |
n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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75 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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76 irritable | |
adj.急躁的;过敏的;易怒的 | |
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77 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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