By the early spring of ’6 the faces of old friends began to reappear in the Northern cities. New York, which I necessarily visited at times during those eventful months, when not at the Fort with Mr. Clay or beseeching1 the President on his behalf, was crowded with Southern people, many of whom were returning from abroad, or were industriously2 seeking to re?stablish business connections. In the capital one met on every hand friends of the ante-bellum days, saddened and changed, it might be, in fortune, but brave-spirited and walking with heads upright and hearts strong to meet the future. “I am persuaded that our States and people are to be prosperous, despite the portentous4 clouds which are now around us,” wrote Mr. Mallory, from Bridgeport, Connecticut, where, now an invalid5, he was constrained6 to remain; “and that the day is not far distant when you and your incomparable lord, with other congenial spirits, will smile at fate and look back to the paths we are now treading with more of pride than of sorrow! My love to Clay. God love him! What would I not give to be able to serve him!”
A spirit as loyal and comforting to us pervaded7 the circle of old-time associates in Washington, and permeated8 the newer ones who had gathered about me in my adversity. Mrs. Parker, the brilliant hostess of the Buchanan days, who now so hospitably9 had thrown open her home to me, proved an unsparing and faithful friend. Her hospitality to me and to the legion of other friends 368who flocked to offer their sympathy and services to me was unstinted, and the several members of her family vied with each other in extending their kindnesses and protection to me.
Among the friends who reappeared in Washington about this time, my diary notes the calls upon me early in ’6 of fair Constance Cary and her fiancé, Burton Harrison,[71] long since released from the imprisonment10 which, for a time, he shared with Mr. Davis; of my kinswoman, Mrs. Polk, of North Carolina, and of Madame Le Vert, the brilliant Octavia Walton, who, almost three decades before, had led all other fascinating beauties in the capital. Accompanied by her daughters, Mme. Le Vert had returned to the North to intercede11 for the pardons of General Beauregard and others of her kin3 and friends. Her comings and goings were heralded12 everywhere. She was the distinguished13 member of the Southern coterie14 in New York, whence frequent trips were made to the capital, and it was commonly remarked that the charm of her personality had suffered no diminution15 with the increase of years.
Our beloved General Lee, who had been summoned to Washington to appear before the Reconstruction16 Committee, was the lion of the day. I saw him several times, surrounded by hosts of admirers, the ladies begging for mementoes, buttons—anything, in fact, he might be persuaded to give up, while he, modest and benevolent17, yielded helplessly to their demands. It was during these months that I became acquainted with the lovely Mme. de Podestad, General Lee’s kinswoman, who was both witty18 and beautiful. For a number of years, as the wife of one of the Spanish Minister’s suite19, she was a conspicuous20 member of Washington society. Going thence to Spain, she became lady-in-waiting to the Queen. Madame de Podestad was a devoted21 admirer of her heroic kinsman22, and I saw much of her in those memorable23 days of ’6.
MRS. A. S. PARKER
of Washington, D. C.
369It was a time of intense political excitement. The strife24 over the Civil Rights bill was the absorbing topic everywhere. The “returning good sense of the people,” upon which the President so long had appeared to depend, was less apparent than he had hoped, and to many astute25 minds the air seemed to vibrate with premonitions of the Government’s overthrow26. Cabinet changes were so earnestly desired that a discussion of that body became part of every conversation. Mr. Johnson’s absorption in the progress of the Civil Rights bill was so great, that, upon my return from a visit to my husband, early in April, realising the inadvisability and the inconsiderateness of pressing my demands at that moment, I yielded to the urgings of my friends and entered upon a short season of diversion. I remember to have visited, in company with Senator Bright and Mr. Voorhees, the studio of Vinnie Reames, whose vogue27 in Washington was then at its height; and I indulged in a pleasure trip to Baltimore, where a great fair was in progress which had been arranged by the patriotic28 ladies of that city. Contributions had poured in, and half the capital was in attendance.
“Mrs. Johnson sent a superb basket of flowers,” reads the account I sent home, “which was raffled30 for sixty dollars! A portrait of the President was bought and sent to her. Also General Johnston’s and General Lee’s were bought and sent to their wives. Mr. Corcoran won the portrait of ‘Stonewall’ Jackson. Admiral Semmes was present one day, and he and I promenaded31 the rooms together. Though not the ‘Pirate’s Bride,’ I was proud of his company. A robe de chambre for Mr. Davis and a superb pillow for Mr. Clay are in my possession. Will take them soon! Ross Wynans,” I added, in describing the more generous donations sent 370to the energetic ladies, “has sent one hundred thousand dollars, and an English gentleman twenty-five thousand!”
Admiral Semmes was the most recent of the State prisoners to be released, and his appearance at the fair was the signal for a lively enthusiasm. By this time Mr. Stephens, our late Vice-President, was a free man, and thrice had called upon me in Washington to offer sympathetic suggestions concerning the case of my husband, so inexplicably32 detained. Our dear friend, ex-Secretary of the Navy Mallory, had been given his liberty early in March.
“Deeply anxious about your good husband,” Mr. Mallory wrote, early in April, “I have deferred33 writing to you from day to day since my release, confident that I would soon be able to congratulate you upon his release. Persuaded that he will never be called upon seriously to respond to the charge upon which he was incarcerated35, and unable to perceive any reason or motive36 for discriminating37 between him and others, myself included, who laboured in the Confederate cause, I am at a loss to conceive why this confinement38 continues. Of course, I fully39 appreciate the character of the struggle between the two great departments of the Government, and the embarrassments40 which it throws in the President’s path; and hence I attribute to this cause all which affects Mr. Clay, and which I cannot otherwise account for. But the restoration of civil law throughout the country opens a way which his friends may very properly take ... and I have been prepared to learn it has been entered upon!”
A resort to the habeas corpus proceedings41 thus suggested by Mr. Mallory had already been discussed by Judge Black as a step to be taken when all other efforts had proved unsuccessful. By the fourteenth of March, Mr. Johnson’s courage to act in behalf of Mr. Clay had risen to the point of procuring42 for him the liberty of the Fort 371without guard, from sunrise to sunset, which order I had carried at once to General Miles.
“I have not yet called upon the President,” I wrote father upon my return from Fortress43 Monroe, on the 29th of March, “but will report myself to-morrow and ask of him that no revocation44 of the late order shall be made. I shall urge Mr. Clay’s release, if only temporary, that he may come and see you and help you arrange your business.... The Radical45 pressure on the President is fearful. They have expelled Foote, and have persuaded Stewart, of Nevada, his son-in-law, to desert his colours and cause, and they may pass the veto over the President’s manly46 veto of the Civil Rights bill. But President Johnson will fall, if fall he must, battling!”
The records of my calls upon the Executive during the weeks that followed almost might be traced by the many pencilled cards sent me by Mr. Johnson from time to time.
“It will be impossible for me to see you until it is too late. I am pressed to death!” reads one. “There is a committee here in consultation47; I cannot tell what time they will leave. I fear too late, but see if in twenty minutes,” runs another. And a third, “Some matters of importance are now transpiring48. I will see you at any time, but would prefer passing the answer until Saturday.” Weeks passed thus in futile49 calls and beseechings, until, having tested every expedient50 to hasten the President to the fulfilling of his promise, my patience was exhausted51.
“Again I am under the necessity of writing,” I began in a letter to my sister, dated the fourteenth of April, “without announcing my husband’s release! Nor can I give you any definite information save what I mean to do and wish others to do. I am at this moment from the President’s; did not see him, but left a note inquiring when I could, and [asked] to be informed by note, which 372he often does in my case. He shall tell me in this interview whether he means speedily to release Mr. Clay. If not, then I will have issued the writ34 of habeas corpus, unless Judge Black oppose it!”
At eleven o’clock at night, however, I added, “The President sent for me to-night, and I have strong hopes that Mr. Clay will be released in a few days! I will telegraph you immediately when it occurs. I pray Heaven it may be ere this reaches you!”
Three days later, accompanied by my faithful friend, Mrs. Bouligny, I again called upon the President. It was eight o’clock in the evening. Having detected, as I believed, a disposition53 on Mr. Johnson’s part yet further to procrastinate54, notwithstanding his recent promises that he would order Mr. Clay’s release, I was resolved not to leave the White House again without the requisite55 papers. I announced this intention to the President as he greeted us, asking him at the same time whether he would not spare me another moment’s anxiety and write me the long-petitioned-for order for Mr. Clay’s release.
Mr. Johnson’s mood was light. He repeated some of the on dits of the day, trying in various ways to divert me from my object, to which, however, I as often persistently56 returned. From time to time other visitors entered to claim the President’s attention; or, he excused himself while he went into a Committee meeting which was being held in an adjoining room. During such an interval57 I sat at the President’s desk and scribbled58 a short letter in pencil to Mr. Clay. It was dated:
April 17, 1866.
“My precious husband!” I wrote. “Behold me seated in the library of this house, in the President’s chair, writing you the ‘glad tidings of great joy!’ The President has just gone in for a few moments to see some gentlemen, and will bring me your release papers when he returns! He told me on the 373fourteenth that he would try to have them, but not to be too hopeful. So I came with some misgiving60, to be relieved and rejoiced. Ere this will reach you, you will be informed by telegram of the release. I will telegraph you to-night.... Judge Black anxiously desires to see you, also Judge Hughes, both kind friends to me!”
It was still early in the evening when I wrote this buoyant epistle, which immediate52 after-events scarcely bore out. The President returned again and again to my companion and me, but ten o’clock arrived and still the papers had not been given me. I was growing more and more impatient, but upon reiterating62 my intention not to leave without the papers, the President became somewhat jocular. He invited Mrs. Bouligny and me to make ourselves comfortable, his words being accompanied by an evasive smile. My soul rose up in resentment63 at this!
“You seem to be inclined to treat this matter lightly, Mr. President,” I said hotly. “I am indignant! I want the paper!” Alas64! my protest did not win me a direct compliance65. The hands of a nearby clock already pointed66 to eleven when, the President having seated himself at a desk or writing-table that stood at hand, I rose and stepped to his side.
“Mr. President,” I said, “are you going to give me that paper? I will not go until you do!” My words were hurled67 at him angrily. He looked up at me curiously68, and the half-cynical smile on his face changed. It was as if, notwithstanding the ardour with which I had urged my demand throughout the evening, he now for the first time realised I was not to be put off.
“Give me the paper, Mr. Johnson!” I urged. “I am resolved to have it!”
My imperative69 demand at last proved effectual. The President turned without further demur70 and wrote a brief note, which, upon calling an attendant, he sent out 374immediately. In a few moments the messenger returned, bearing a paper which read as follows:
“War Department, Washington, D. C.,
“April 17, 1866.
“Ordered:
“That Clement71 C. Clay, Jr., is hereby released from confinement and permitted to return to and remain in the State of Alabama, and to visit such other places in the United States as his personal business may render absolutely necessary, upon the following conditions, viz.: That he takes the oath of allegiance to the United States, and gives his parole of honour, to conduct himself as a loyal citizen of the same, and to report himself in person at any time and place to answer any charges that may hereafter be preferred against him by the United States.
“By order of the President,
“E. D. Townsend,
“Ass’t Adgt. General.”
The paper, prepared by the hand of an amanuensis, had been written at and dated from the Executive Mansion, and a space beneath had been reserved for the name of the Secretary of War. When it reached my hand, however, the words at the top, viz.: “Executive Mansion,” had been crossed out and “War Department” substituted; the space for signature had been filled in with the name of Mr. Stanton’s assistant, General Townsend, and the words “Secretary of War” (below) had been crossed out. The changes were made in a different ink from that used in the body of the paper. The document was a curious additional proof of Mr. Stanton’s personal indisposition to release his illegally detained prisoner, and of Mr. Johnson’s equal evasion72 of the responsibility of freeing him. As neither name appeared upon the document, it would seem as if a “muddle” had been intended in the event of some later complications arising.
JEFFERSON DAVIS and CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR.
(after release from Fortress Monroe)
375It was already toward the midnight hour when this document was handed to me. I seized it eagerly, and, thanking the President for at last performing the act for which I had so long pleaded, I hurried to the carriage which had been in waiting and ordered the coachman to drive with all haste to the telegraph office. As I parted from the President he expressed the warmest good wishes for Mr. Clay’s health and our future, and pressed upon me an autographed carte de visite, which I took with no less surprise than pleasure, being glad to see in the politician before me this evidence of the inner, sympathetic man. Though our horses dashed down the avenue at breakneck speed, it was within a few moments of twelve o’clock when I hurried into the telegraph office.
“Can you send a telegram to-night?” I asked.
“Yes, Madam,” was the reply.
“Honourable C. C. Clay, Fort Monroe.
“You are released! Have written you to-night.
“V. C. C.”
The President’s telegram to the Fortress having been sent simultaneously74 with mine, my husband was given his freedom the next day. There remained, however, yet a few duties to perform ere I might join him at Petersburg, whence we together were to return to our beloved home; to Alabama, with its purple and russet mountains and spreading valleys, its warm hearts and loyal friends, and where waited the feeble and eager father, ex-Governor Clay, whose remaining tenure75 of life was to be so short. There were kindnesses to be acknowledged ere I left the capital, and on every side I met detaining hands overwhelming me with congratulations on my success at last. The evening before my departure, the venerable former Vice-President of the Confederate States called upon me to extend his good wishes for the future. Being deterred76 from coming in 376person, Judge Black wrote several notes full of his characteristic impulsiveness77.
“Dear Madam,” his messages ran, “tell your great and good husband I could do nothing for him, because his magnificent wife left nobody else a chance to serve him! I would have been proud to have some share in his defense78, but circumstances have denied me the honour. I rejoice none the less in his happy deliverance, and I have no right to envy you the privilege which you have used so grandly, of vindicating79 his stainless80 name. His liberation under the circumstances is a full acknowledgment that the charges against him in the proclamation are infamously81 false.... Your note of yesterday evening literally82 took my breath away. After you had done so much for yourself and I had done so little, nay83, less than nothing, you address me as if I had been your benefactor84 merely because I rejoiced in your success.... If I say but little, you must not, therefore, suppose that I shall ever forget your amazing eloquence85, your steadfast86 courage under circumstances which might have appalled87 the stoutest89 heart; your unshaken faith where piety90 itself might almost have doubted the justice of God; the prudence91 with which you instinctively92 saw what was best to be done, and the delicacy93 which never allowed the charms of the lady to be lost in the great qualities of the heroine. These things are written down at full length in the book of my memory, where every day I turn the leaf to read them.... I cannot forget your sad look when I saw you at Mrs. Parker’s the last time. Do not allow yourself to doubt the ultimate triumph of justice. God has recorded among His unalterable decrees that no lie shall live forever!
“Remember, if I can serve you it will always seem like a privilege to do it. In feudal94 times, when the liege man did homage95 to his suzeraine, he put his head between her hands (if it was a queen or a lady) and declared himself 377hers to do her commands; to be the friend of her friends, and the enemy of her enemies, for life and limb and earthly honours. Imagine the homage vowed96 in proper form, and claim your authority as suzeraine whenever you please. I ought to add that Mrs. Black was so wrought97 upon by your conversation that she has longed to see you again, and her whole heart, an honest and good one as ever beat, is yours.”
“You went to work like a true wife,” was the message sent by my dear old mess-mate, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, “and God blessed you for it. Did you see Mr. Holt? I have heard he was our bitterest enemy. Can it be so?”
“Ten thousand thanks to God, my dear friend, for your release!” wrote Mr. Mallory to my husband. “May He punish with rigorous justice ... your unjustifiable and most cruel incarceration98! My wife and I, if indescribables would permit us, would dance for joy to-day at the news of your release. Love to your wife! God bless her bright spirit and noble heart; and may we meet in Florida, one acre of whose barrens I would not give for all New England!”
From Mr. Lamar, “dear old Lushe,” the following tender word came: “Ah, my friend, you know not how often, how constantly my heart has been with you! Often in the watches of the night, when all around was hushed in sleep, have I wept over your fate!... I have not time to write now, except to beg you to come right here and make your abode99 with me. We have a large house. Oh, do, Mr. Clay, do come and see me! I would share the last dollar I have with you. Come, my friend, and live with me, and let us henceforth be inseparable. Please come. I believe the sight of you will restore my health; at least, if anything can.
“Your devoted brother, L. Q. C. Lamar.”[72]
378The sight of these letters of long ago sets the tears gushing100, and awakens101 a thousand tender memories of kind hearts that long since ceased to beat to the emotions of pain or pleasure. Oh! the vast army of men and women who, by their sympathy in those last crucial days of my experiences in the capital, were a buoy61 to my courage, and that of my husband, broken in health, and heart, and spirit, as we turned back to our home in Alabama!
The news of his mother’s death, which came to Mr. Clay a few days after his release from Fortress Monroe, fell upon him like a pall88. I could not induce him to visit Washington, to which city powerful friends had invited him. He had but one wish; to return to his stricken father, far from the turbulent political centre, where a man’s life and honour were but as a pawn102 in the hands of the unscrupulous politicians of that day.
A few months and his father had passed away, gladdened, despite the vicissitudes103 of his later days, that his cherished son at last was restored to him. We laid the tired body beside that of the little mother. Together they sleep in the valley that smiles up so perennially104 to the crest105 of Monte Sano. A few years of effort for my sake, to retain an interest in the world which to his broken heart appeared so cruel and hollow, and my husband withdrew to our mountain home, sweet with the incense106 of the cedars107; to his books and the contemplation of nature; to the companionship of the simple and the young. Yet a few more years, and he, too, fell wearily to sleep, and was put to rest beside those he had so well loved. I can think of no more fitting close to this portion of my memories than these brief quotations108, from some of the hundreds of tributes which came from all quarters of the land, like the upwelling of healing springs in the desert, when at last I was left alone.
One who sat in the Senate Chamber109 in Washington, 379scanning a later generation of his fellows, all eager in the strife for the fame that is the guerdon of the true statesman, wrote thus of Mr. Clay, his predecessor110:
“You knew him best, having proved him, by a long association in the sacred character of wife, in many years of trial filled with memorable vicissitudes, as a true and knightly111 gentleman, a devout112 Christian113, a loyal husband and friend, a patriot29 of the sternest type, a statesman of great ability, and the devoted son of Alabama. In my course of thought and conduct, as his successor in the Senate, I have thought it well to accept his standard as that which would best help me worthily114 to represent our beloved State. Mr. Clay left a character here which stands greatly to the credit of the State, and will be quoted long after we have passed away, in proof of the character of the people he so worthily represented. His name and public history in the Senate are a cause of pride to our people.
“Your sincere friend,
“John T. Morgan.”
And one who had been our intimate friend for more than thirty years, Bishop115 Henry C. Lay, wrote of my dear one thus:
“How gentle and kind he was! How fond of young things, and how tender to the weak and helpless! Especially was he a singularly devoted husband, giving you his admiration116 and his confidence.... Life seemed very full of promise to him in those days. It was a sad change when the storm arose, with its exile, imprisonment, disappointed hopes, retirement117 into seclusion118 and inaction! Truly your life, with its opposite poles in Washington and Alabama, has been a varied119 one!”
The End
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beseeching
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industriously
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kin
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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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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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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permeated
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| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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imprisonment
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intercede
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| vi.仲裁，说情 | |
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heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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distinguished
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coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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diminution
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reconstruction
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benevolent
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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conspicuous
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devoted
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kinsman
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memorable
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strife
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astute
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overthrow
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Vogue
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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raffled
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| v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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promenaded
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inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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writ
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incarcerated
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| 钳闭的 | |
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motive
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discriminating
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confinement
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fully
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embarrassments
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proceedings
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procuring
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fortress
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revocation
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| n.废止，撤回 | |
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45
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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46
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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47
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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48
transpiring
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的现在分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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49
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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50
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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51
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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52
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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53
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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54
procrastinate
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| v.耽搁，拖延 | |
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55
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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56
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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57
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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58
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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59
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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60
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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61
buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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62
reiterating
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
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63
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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64
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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65
compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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67
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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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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71
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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73
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impulsiveness
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| n.冲动 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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79
vindicating
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的现在分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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80
stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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81
infamously
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| 不名誉地 | |
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82
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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83
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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85
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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88
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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89
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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90
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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91
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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92
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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93
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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95
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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96
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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97
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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98
incarceration
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| n.监禁，禁闭；钳闭 | |
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99
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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100
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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101
awakens
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的第三人称单数 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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102
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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103
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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104
perennially
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| adv.经常出现地；长期地；持久地；永久地 | |
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105
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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106
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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107
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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108
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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109
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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110
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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111
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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112
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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113
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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114
worthily
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| 重要地，可敬地，正当地 | |
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115
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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116
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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117
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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118
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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119
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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