Writing to my father-in-law, ex-Governor Clay, on Christmas night, 1856, of the deep inward excitement of the times, I said: “We feel a little as Fanny Fern says Eugénie felt when she espoused1 Louis Napoleon, as if we are ‘dancing over a powder magazine!’ Everything is excitement and confusion. I tell you Fusion2 reigns3 in truth, and Southern blood is at boiling temperature all over the city, and with good cause, too. Old Giddings, Thurlow Weed, Sumner, Seward, Chase (who is here for a few days prior to his inauguration4[3]) are daily taunting5 and insulting all whom they dare. There is no more prospect6 of a Speaker now than there was at first; indeed, less, and our men have despaired of Christmas holidays at home. Desertion of their post would mean death to their party and themselves, and they know and appreciate it, and, so far, stand firm as a Roman phalanx. Should there prove one deserter, the ‘game is up,’ for there is a Black Republican at every corner of our political fence, and if ever the gap is down we are gone. I wish you could be here to witness the scenes daily enacted7 in the halls of Congress, to hear the hot taunts8 of defiance9 hurled10 into the very teeth of the Northerners by our goaded11 but spirited patriots12. I expect any day to hear of bloodshed and death, and would not be surprised at any time to witness (repeated here) the Civil War of Kansas! We still hope for Orr, though he is not sanguine13. 59The President still holds his message, fearing to give it to the press, and it is thought it will go to Congress in manuscript. He, poor fellow, is worn and weary, and his wife in extremely delicate health.”
President Pierce was, in fact, a very harassed14 man, as none knew better than did Senator Clay. My husband’s friendship was unwearying toward all to whom his reserved nature yielded it, and his devotion to Mr. Pierce was unswerving. Though twelve years the President’s junior, from the first my husband was known as one of the President’s counsellors, and none of those who surrounded the Nation’s executive head more sacredly preserved his confidence. Senator Clay believed unequivocally that our President was “not in the roll of common men.”
Bold and dauntless where a principle was involved, Mr. Pierce’s message of ’5 fell like a bombshell on the Black Republican party. Its bold pro-slaveryism startled even his friends; for, never had a predecessor15, while in the Executive Chair, talked so strongly or so harshly to sectionalists and fanatics16. To this stand, so bravely taken, his defeat at the next Presidential election was doubtless at least partially17 attributable. Meantime, the South owed him much, and none of its representatives was more staunchly devoted18 to President Pierce than was the Senator from northern Alabama. How fully19 Mr. Pierce relied upon Senator Clay’s discretion20 may be illustrated21 by an incident which lives still very vividly22 in my memory.
My husband and I were seated one evening before a blazing fire in our parlour at the Ebbitt House, in the first enjoyment23 of an evening at home (a rare luxury to public folk in the capital), when we heard a low and unusual knock at the door. My trim maid, Emily, hastened to open it, when there entered hastily a tall figure, wrapped in a long storm-cloak on which the snow-flakes still lay thickly. The new-comer was muffled24 to the 60eyes. He glanced quickly about the rooms, making a motion to us, as he did so, to remain silent. My husband rose inquiringly, failing, as did I, to recognise our mysterious visitor. In a second more, however, perceiving that we were alone, he threw off his outer coat and soft hat, when, to our astonishment25, our unceremonious and unexpected guest stood revealed as the President!
“Lock that door, Clay!” he said, almost pathetically, “and don’t let a soul know I’m here!” Then, turning, he handed me a small package which he had carried under his coat.
“For you, Mrs. Clay,” he said. “It is my picture. I hope you will care to take it with you to Alabama, and sometimes remember me!”
I thanked him delightedly as I untied26 the package and saw within a handsome photograph superbly framed. Then, as he wearily sat down before our crackling fire, I hastened to assist Emily in her preparation of a friendly egg-nog.
“Ah, my dear friends!” said Mr. Pierce, leaning forward in his arm-chair and warming his hands as he spoke27; “I am so tired of the shackles28 of Presidential life that I can scarcely endure it! I long for quiet—for—” and he looked around our restful parlours—“for this! Oh! for relaxation29 and privacy once more, and a chance for home!”
His voice and every action betrayed the weary man. We were deeply moved, and my husband uttered such sympathetic words as only a wise man may. The egg-nog prepared, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the President and Mr. Clay in all the comfort of a friendly chat. Primarily, the object of his visit was to discuss an affair of national moment which was to be brought before the Senate the next day; but the outlook of the times which also fell naturally under discussion formed no small part in the topics thus intimately scanned. Both were men to whom the horrid30 sounds of coming combat were audible, and both were patriots seeking how they might do their part to avert31 it. It was midnight ere Mr. Pierce rose to go. Then, fortified32 by another of Emily’s incomparable egg-nogs, he was again, incognito33, on his way to the White House.
FRANKLIN PIERCE
President of the United States, 1853–57
61My remembrances of that secret visit have ever remained most keen. Often, when I think of the lonely grave on the quiet hillside at Concord34, I recall the night when weariness of body and State formalities impelled35 the President to our cozy36 fireside, though he beat his way to it through snow and winds, stealing from the trammels of his position for the mere37 pleasure of walking the streets unimpeded and free as any other citizen.
President Pierce entered the White House in 1853, full as a youth of leaping life. A year before his inauguration I had seen him bound up the stairs with the elasticity38 and lightness of a schoolboy. He went out after four years a staid and grave man, on whom the stamp of care and illness was ineradicably impressed.
I often contrasted the pale, worn, haggard man whose “wine of life was drawn39, and the mere lees left i’ the vault,” ere his term (so coveted40 by many) was spent, with the buoyant person I first met on the breezy New Hampshire hills!
Especially a lovable man in his private character, President Pierce was a man of whom our nation might well be proud to have at its head. Graced with an unusually fine presence, he was most courtly and polished in manner. Fair rather than dark, of graceful41 carriage,[4] he was also an eloquent42 speaker, and, though reserved to a degree, was very winning in manner. He was still in middle life when elected to the 62Presidency, being less than forty-nine years of age when inaugurated.
Taken all in all, the Cabinet circle formed by Mr. Pierce was one of the most interesting bodies that has ever surrounded an American Chief Magistrate43. Selected wisely, the ministerial body remained unchanged throughout the entire Administration, and this at a time of unceasing and general contention44. But three such instances are recorded in the histories of the twenty-six Presidents of the United States, the others occurring in the terms of J. Q. Adams and James A. Garfield. The tie which bound President Pierce and his Cabinet so inalienably was one of mutual45 confidence and personal friendship. Perhaps the closest ally of the President’s was his Secretary of State, William L. Marcy. That great Secretary was a man whose unusual poise46 and uniform complacency were often as much a source of envy to his friends as of confusion to his enemies. I commented upon it to my husband on one occasion, wondering interrogatively at his composure, whereupon Senator Clay told me the following story:
Some one as curious as I once asked the Secretary how he preserved his unvarying calmness. “Well,” he answered, confidentially47, “I’ll tell you, I have given my secretary orders that whenever he sees an article eulogistic48 of me, praising my ‘astuteness,’ my ‘far-seeing diplomacy,’ my ‘incomparable statesmanship,’ etc., he is to cut it out and place it conspicuously50 on my desk where I can see it first thing in the morning; everything to the contrary he is to cut out and up and consign51 to the waste-basket. By this means, hearing nothing but good of myself, I have come naturally to regard myself as a pretty good fellow! Who wouldn’t be serene52 under such circumstances?”
MRS. WILLIAM L. MARCY
of New York
63To add to his contentment thus philosophically54 assured, the Secretary’s home surroundings were peculiarly satisfactory to him. Mrs. Marcy was a demure55 and retiring woman, taking little part in the gayer happenings of the city, but on Cabinet days her welcome was always diplomatically cordial and her full parlours gave evidence of her personal popularity. A charming member of her family, Nellie, daughter of General R. B. Marcy, became the wife of General McClellan, whose son, named for that military hero, at this writing is Mayor of America’s metropolis57. Between President and Mrs. Pierce and Secretary and Mrs. Marcy a firm friendship existed. It was to the home of the Secretary that President and Mrs. Pierce retired58 while the White House was being rehabilitated59 for the occupancy of Mr. Buchanan, who had just returned from his residence abroad, where, as Mr. Pierce’s appointee, he served as Minister to the Court of St. James.
On the day of Mr. Buchanan’s inauguration a curious oversight60 occurred which demonstrated in marked manner how eagerly a populace hastens to shout “The king is dead! Long live the King!” The procession of carriages had already formed and the moment for beginning the march to the Capitol had almost arrived ere it was observed that the vehicle set apart for President Pierce was unoccupied. Inquiry61 was hastily instituted, when it was discovered that, owing to some omission62 on the part of the Master of Ceremonies, his Excellency had not been sent for! The horses’ heads were turned in a trice, and they were driven furiously to the Marcy residence, where the quiet gentleman who was still the President of the United States awaited them.
Late in the afternoon my husband called upon Mr. Pierce, and, during the conversation that followed, Mr. Clay referred indignantly to the unfortunate affair.
“Ah, Clay!” said Mr. Pierce, smiling quietly. “Have you lived so long without knowing that all the homage63 is given to the rising sun, never to the setting, however resplendent its noonday?”
64Of Secretaries Campbell and McClelland, the gay, and especially the Southern world, saw but little; nor did Caleb Cushing, the Attorney-General, for whom every Southerner must ever feel a thrill of admiration64 for his spirited speech on their behalf in Faneuil Hall, mingle65 much with the lighter66 element. He was a silent man, a bachelor, who entertained not at all, though paying dutifully such formal calls as seemed obligatory67; and Senator Clay, whose delicate health and naturally studious mind made continual attendance upon society an onerous68 and often shirked duty, had much in common with and greatly esteemed69 Mr. Cushing, at that time regarded as one of the most earnest statesmen in the capital.
In later life, one who had been a conspicuous49 Senator from Mississippi in ante-bellum days, appraised70 him differently, for in 1872 he wrote to my husband in this wise: “I had no confidence in Cushing beyond that of a follower71 to a quicker intellect and a braver heart. He could appreciate the gallantry and fidelity73 of Pierce, so he followed him. Like the chameleon74, he was green, or blue, or brown, according to what he rested upon.”
An affable young man, Mr. Spofford, member of Mr. Cushing’s household, and serving as that gentleman’s secretary, was no inconsiderable figure in Washington. He became a great favourite in all the notable drawing-rooms, especially with young ladies, and the names of a half-dozen belles75 were given who had fallen in love with him; but he remained invulnerable to the flashing eyes and bright spirits about him, and married a clever authoress, whose writings, as Harriet Prescott Spofford, have become familiar to a large class of American readers.
My personal favourite of all the Cabinet Ministers was the Secretary of the Navy, J. C. Dobbin. He was a North Carolinian, and the children of my native State were always dear to me. Being a widower76, Mr. Dobbin’s 65home was also closed from formal entertainment, but the Secretary was seen now and then in society, where he was much sought after (though not always found) by the leading hostesses, whenever he consented to mingle with it. In his parlours, which now and then he opened to his most favoured friends, he kept on exhibition for years, sealed under a glass case, the suit in which Dr. Kane, the Arctic explorer, had lived during his sojourn77 among the icy seas.
Secretary Dobbin was a small man; in truth, a duodecimo edition of his sex, and exquisitely78 presented—a fact which was as freely yielded by his confrères as by his gentler admirers. A man of conspicuous intellectuality and firmness in the administration of his department, his heart was also very tender. Of this he once gave me an especially treasured demonstration79.
My friend, Emily Spicer, wife of Lieutenant80 William F. Spicer, afterward81 Commander of the Boston Navy Yard, at a very critical time, was suddenly obliged, by the exigencies82 of the Naval83 Service, to see her husband prepare for what promised to be a long, and, it might prove, a final separation. Tenderly attached to each other, the young husband at last literally84 tore himself from his wife, leaving her in an unconscious state, from which she did not recover for many hours. Grave fears were entertained as to the disastrous85 effect the parting would have upon the young matron.
Having witnessed the sad scene, I went at once to Secretary Dobbin and told him of it. His eyes lighted up most sympathetically, even while he explained to me the necessity for adhering strictly86 to the rules of the Service, but, even as he marshalled the obstacles to my plea, by intuition I knew his heart was stirred, and when I parted from him, he said, “Comfort her, dear Mrs. Clay, with this assurance: If Spicer is on the high seas he shall be ordered home; if he has arrived in Italy” (for which 66coast the Lieutenant’s ship was booked) “he shall remain there and his wife may join him.” I went away grateful for his sympathy for my stricken friend, and hastened to soothe87 her.
The Secretary kept his word. In a few passing weeks the young couple were reunited on the coast of Italy. “God bless you, my dear Madame,” wrote Lieutenant Spicer, thereupon. “I am forever thankfully yours!” And they kept a promise I had exacted, and named the baby, which proved to be a boy, after my dear husband! Long after his distinguished88 namesake had vanished from the world’s stage, a bearded man of thirty came across the ocean and a continent to greet me, his “second mother,” as he had been taught to think of me by my grateful friend, his mother, Mrs. Spicer.
Once more I called upon Secretary Dobbin, on behalf of a young naval officer, but this time with a less pathetic request. Our young friend Lieutenant ——, having returned from a long cruise (which, while it lasted, had seemed to be all but unbearable89 because of its many social deprivations), upon his arrival was so swiftly enthralled90 by the attractions of a certain young lady (who shall be as nameless as is he) that in his augmenting91 fervour he proposed to her at once.
The lady accepted. She was very young, very beautiful, very romantic, and, alas92! very poor! He was scarcely older, fully as romantic, and also, alas! was, if anything, poorer than she—a fact of which his swashing and naval display of gold-plated buttons and braid gave no hint.
The romance lasted about two weeks, with waning93 enthusiasm on the youth’s side, when, in great distress94, he came to see me. He made a clean breast of the dilemma95 into which he had plunged96.
“I beg you will rescue me, Mrs. Clay,” he said. “Get me transferred, or sent out anywhere! I’ve made a 67fool of myself. I can’t marry her,” he declared. “I haven’t income enough to buy my own clothes, and, as for providing for a girl of her tastes, I don’t know whether I shall ever be able to do so.”
“But,” I remonstrated97, “how can I help you? You’ve only just returned, and in the ordinary course of events you would remain on shore at least six weeks. That isn’t long. Try to bear it a while!”
“Long enough for a marriage in naval life,” he declared, ruefully. “And I can’t break it off without your assistance. Help me, Mrs. Clay! If you don’t—” He looked sheepish, but dogged. “I’ll do what the Irishman did in Charleston!”
“What was that?” I asked.
“Well! he was in exactly the same pickle98 I am in, so he hired a man and a wheel-barrow, and lying down, face up in it, had himself rolled past the lady’s house at a time when he knew she was at home. Then, as the barrow arrived at this point, he had his man stop for a few moments to wipe the sweat of honest toil99 from his forehead, and, incidentally, to give the lookers-on an opportunity for complete identification.... Only difficulty with that is, how would it affect me in the service?” And the Lieutenant became dubious100 and I thoughtful.
“If I knew on what grounds to approach Secretary Dobbin,” I began.
“There aren’t any,” the Lieutenant answered eagerly. “But there are two ships just fitting out, and lots of men on them would be glad to get off from a three-years’ cruise. I would ship for six years, nine—anything that would get me out of this fix!”
On this desperate statement I applied101 to the Secretary. Within ten days my gallant72 “friend” was on the sea, and one of Washington’s beautiful maidens102 in tears. Glancing over my letters, I see that at the end of ten years the young Naval officer was still unwed, though not altogether 68scarless as to intervening love affairs; but the lady was now the happy wife of a member of one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the United States!
Secretary Dobbin was my escort on my first (a most memorable) visit to Fort Monroe. The occasion was a brilliant one, for the President and his Cabinet had come in a body to review the troops. Jefferson Davis, then Secretary of War, and but recently the hero of the battle of Buena Vista103, directed the man?uvres, his spirited figure, superb horsemanship, and warlike bearing attracting general attention. An entire day was given up to this holiday-making, and the scene was one of splendid excitement. At night the Fort and the waters beyond were lit up by a pyrotechnic display of great gorgeousness, and enthusiasm rose to its highest when, amid the booming of cannon104 and the plaudits of happy people, an especially ingenious device blazed across the night sky the names of Franklin Pierce and Jefferson Davis!
Always a man of distinguished appearance, Secretary Davis at that time was exceedingly slender, but his step was springy, and he carried himself with such an air of conscious strength and ease and purpose as often to cause a stranger to turn and look at him. His voice was very rich and sonorous105, his enunciation106 most pleasing. In public speech he was eloquent and magnetic, but, curiously107 enough, he was a poor reader, often “mouthing” his phrases in a way that would have aroused Hamlet’s scorn. Though spoken of as cold and haughty108, in private his friends found him refreshingly109 informal and frank. From their first meeting, Secretary Davis was the intimate friend of my husband, whose loyalty110 to Mr. Davis in the momentous111 closing days of the Confederacy reacted so unfortunately upon his own liberty and welfare.
Neither the Secretary of War nor his wife appeared frequently in society in the earlier days of his appointment, the attention of Mr. Davis being concentrated 69upon the duties of his office, and a young family engaging that of his wife. I have heard it said that so wonderful was Mr. Davis’s oversight of the Department of War while under his charge, that it would have been impossible for the Government to have been cheated out of the value of a brass112 button! So proud was his adopted State of him, that at the close of Mr. Pierce’s administration, Mississippi promptly113 returned Mr. Davis to Washington as Senator. Almost immediately thereafter he became the victim of a serious illness, which lasted many weeks, and a complication of troubles set in which culminated114 in the loss of sight in one eye. During that period my husband gave up many nights to the nursing of the invalid115, who was tortured by neuralgic pains and nervous tension. Senator Clay’s solicitude116 for Mr. Davis was ever of the deepest, as his efforts to sustain and defend him to the last were of the most unselfish.
Aaron V. Brown, who became Postmaster-General in 1857, was at once one of the kindest-hearted and simplest of men, loving his home and being especially indifferent to all things that savoured of the merely fashionable and superficial. He occupied a house which by long association with distinguished people had become prominently known. Not infrequently the Brown residence was alluded117 to as the “Cabinet Mansion118.” Here, among other celebrities119, had lived Attorney-General Wirt, and in it Mrs. Wirt had compiled the first “Flora’s Dictionary.” The hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Brown, being boundless120, served to accentuate121 its reputation, for, unlike her husband, Mrs. Brown was socially most industrious122, and, being exceedingly well-to-do, was full of enterprise in the invention of novel surprises for her guests. Mrs. Brown, who was the sister of the afterward distinguished Major-General Pillow, of the Confederate Army, was the first hostess in Washington, I think, to introduce orchestral music at dinner, and her daughter, Narcissa Sanders, 70with as pronounced a spirit of innovation,[5] sent out enormous cards of invitation in her own name, inviting123 the distinguished folk of the capital to the house of the Postmaster-General to meet—herself!
I remember a dinner at this luxurious124 home of Mr. Brown, at which my host, who took me in, amused me immensely at the expense of the elaborate feast before us, and at some of his wife’s kindly125, if costly126, foibles. Behind a barrier of plants a band played softly; around us were the obsequious127 waiters from Gautier’s.
“All from Gautier’s!” sighed the Postmaster-General, in mock despair. “My wife’s napery is the best to be had, but she will have Gautier’s! Our silver is—certainly not the plainest in the city, but Mrs. Brown must have Gautier’s! We have an incomparable chef, but nothing will please my wife but these”; and he scanned the mysterious menu with its tier after tier of unknown French names. Then he turned suddenly and asked me, pointing to a line, “My child, what’s this? Don’t know, eh? Well, neither do I, but let’s try it, anyway. I don’t suppose it will kill us,” and so on, the good old gentleman keeping me in a continual bubble of smothered128 laughter to the end of the dinner.
A member of Mr. Pierce’s Cabinet, whose house was as conspicuous for its large and lavish129 entertaining as was Mr. Brown’s, was the Secretary of the Treasury130, Guthrie, the wealthy Kentuckian. Mr. Guthrie was no society lover (it was a time when statesmen had need to be absorbed in weightier things), but he entertained, I always thought, as a part of his public duty. His was a big, square-shouldered and angular figure, and his appearance, 71it was obvious, at receptions was perfunctory rather than a pleasure. A widower, his home was presided over by his two daughters, Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Coke, both also widowed. I often thought Secretary Guthrie’s capacious ballroom131 suggestive, in its proportions, of a public hall.
Here, one evening, I had my never-to-be-forgotten rencontre with Chevalier Bertinatti, the Sardinian Minister. Dear old Bertinatti! In all the diplomatic circle of the Pierce and Buchanan administrations there was not to be found a personage at once more dignified132 and genial133. Serious, yet enthusiastic, his naturally kind heart adding warmth to the gallantry for which foreigners are famous, the Chevalier was a typical ambassador of the Latin people. He was a learned man, especially in matters American, and knew our Constitution better than did many of our native representatives in Washington. He encountered bravely, though not always successfully, the difficulties of the English language, and his defeats in this field (such is the irony135 of fate) have served to keep him longer in the minds of many than have his successes.
Upon the occasion to which I have referred, a soirée was held at Secretary Guthrie’s house, at which half the world was present. I wore that evening a gown of foreign silk, the colour of the pomegranate blossom, and with it a Sardinian head-dress and ornaments136 which had been sent me by a Consular137 friend. Seeing me at some distance, the Chevalier failed to recognise me and asked one of the hostesses, with whom he was conversing138, “Who is zat lady wis my kontree-woman’s ornaments?”
Upon learning my identity he came forward quickly and, gazing admiringly at me, he threw himself on his knee before me (kissing my hand as he did so, with ardent139 gallantry) as he exclaimed: “Madame, you are charming wis zat head-dress like my kontree-women! 72Madame! I assure you, you have conquest me behind and now you conquest me before!” and he bowed profoundly.
This remarkable140 compliment was long remembered and recounted wherever the name of the kind-hearted diplomat56 was mentioned. A great many ties bound Monsieur Bertinatti to Washington society, not the least of which was his marriage to Mrs. Bass134 of Mississippi, an admired member of the Southern and predominating element in the capital. Her daughter, who returned to die in her native land (she was buried from the Cathedral in Memphis, Tennessee), became the Marquise Incisa di Camerana.
When, after decades of political strife141, the crucial time of separation came between the North and the South, and we of the South were preparing to leave the Federal City, I could not conceal142 my sorrow; and tears, ever a blessed boon143 to women, frequently blinded me as I bade first one and then another of our associates what was to be a long good-bye. At such an expression of my grief the Chevalier Bertinatti was much troubled.
“Don’t weep,” he said. “Don’t weep, my dear Mrs. Clay. You have had sixty years of uninterrupted peace! This is but a revolution, and all countries must suffer from them at times! Look at my poor country! I was born in revolution, and reared in revolution, and I expect to die in revolution!” And with this offering of philosophic53 consolation144 we parted.
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espoused
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| v.（决定）支持，拥护（目标、主张等）( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fusion
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| n.溶化；熔解；熔化状态，熔和；熔接 | |
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reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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inauguration
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| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
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taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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illustrated
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vividly
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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28
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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29
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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30
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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31
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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32
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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33
incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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34
concord
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| n.和谐；协调 | |
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35
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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37
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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38
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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39
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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40
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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41
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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42
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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43
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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44
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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45
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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46
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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47
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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48
eulogistic
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| adj.颂扬的，颂词的 | |
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49
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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50
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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51
consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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52
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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53
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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54
philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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55
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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56
diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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57
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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58
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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59
rehabilitated
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| 改造（罪犯等）( rehabilitate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使恢复正常生活； 使恢复原状； 修复 | |
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60
oversight
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| n.勘漏，失察，疏忽 | |
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61
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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62
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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63
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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64
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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65
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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66
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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67
obligatory
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| adj.强制性的，义务的，必须的 | |
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68
onerous
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| adj.繁重的 | |
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69
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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70
appraised
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| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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71
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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72
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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73
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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74
chameleon
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| n.变色龙，蜥蜴；善变之人 | |
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75
belles
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| n.美女( belle的名词复数 )；最美的美女 | |
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76
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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77
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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78
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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79
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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80
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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81
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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82
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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83
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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84
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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85
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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86
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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87
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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88
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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89
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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90
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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91
augmenting
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| 使扩张 | |
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92
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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93
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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94
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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95
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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96
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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97
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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98
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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99
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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100
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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101
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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102
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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103
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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104
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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105
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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106
enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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107
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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108
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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109
refreshingly
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| adv.清爽地，有精神地 | |
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110
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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111
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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112
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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113
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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114
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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116
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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117
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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119
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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120
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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121
accentuate
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| v.着重，强调 | |
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122
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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123
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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124
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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125
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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126
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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127
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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128
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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129
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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130
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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131
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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132
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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133
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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134
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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135
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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136
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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137
consular
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| a.领事的 | |
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138
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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139
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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140
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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141
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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142
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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143
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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144
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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