‘The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant1. By G. Ragsdale McClintock,[3] author of “An Address,” etc., delivered at Sunflower Hill, South Carolina, and member of the Yale Law School, New Haven2: published by T. H. Pease, 83 Chapel3 Street, 1845.’
3. The name here given is a substitute for the one actually attached to the pamphlet.
No one can take up this book, and lay it down again unread. Whoever reads one line of it is caught, is chained; he has become the contented4 slave of its fascinations5; and he will read and read, devour6 and devour, and will not let it go out of his hand till it is finished to the last line, though the house be on fire over his head. And after a 78first reading, he will not throw it aside, but will keep it by him, with his Shakspeare and his Homer, and will take it up many and many a time, when the world is dark, and his spirits are low, and be straightway cheered and refreshed. Yet this work has been allowed to lie wholly neglected, unmentioned, and apparently7 unregretted, for nearly half a century.
The reader must not imagine that he is to find in it wisdom, brilliancy, fertility of invention, ingenuity8 of construction, excellence9 of form, purity of style, perfection of imagery, truth to nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible situations, humanly possible people, fluent narrative10, connected sequence of events—or philosophy, or logic11, or sense. No; the rich, deep, beguiling12 charm of the book lies in the total and miraculous13 absence from it of all these qualities—a charm which is completed and perfected by the evident fact that the author, whose naïve innocence14 easily and surely wins our regard, and almost our worship, does not know that they are absent, does not even suspect that they are absent. When read by the light of these helps to an understanding of the situation, the book is delicious—profoundly and satisfyingly delicious.
79I call it a book because the author calls it a book; I call it a work because he calls it a work; but in truth it is merely a duodecimo pamphlet of thirty-one pages. It was written for fame and money, as the author very frankly—yes, and very hopefully, too, poor fellow—says in his preface. The money never came; no penny of it ever came; and how long, how pathetically long, the fame has been deferred—forty-seven years! He was young then, it would have been so much to him then; but will he care for it now?
As time is measured in America, McClintock’s epoch16 is antiquity17. In his long-vanished day the Southern author had a passion for ‘eloquence18’; it was his pet, his darling. He would be eloquent19, or perish. And he recognised only one kind of eloquence, the lurid20, the tempestuous21, the volcanic22. He liked words; big words, fine words, grand words, rumbling23, thundering, reverberating24 words—with sense attaching if it could be got in without marring the sound, but not otherwise. He loved to stand up before a dazed world, and pour forth26 flame, and smoke, and lava27, and pumicestone, into the skies, and work his subterranean28 thunders, and shake himself with earthquakes, and stench himself with sulphur fumes29. If he 80consumed his own fields and vineyards, that was a pity, yes; but he would have his eruption30 at any cost. Mr. McClintock’s eloquence—and he is always eloquent, his crater31 is always spouting—is of the pattern common to his day, but he departs from the custom of the time in one respect: his brethren allowed sense to intrude32 when it did not mar25 the sound, but he does not allow it to intrude at all. For example, consider this figure, which he uses in the village ‘Address’ referred to with such candid33 complacency in the title-page above quoted—‘like the topmost topaz of an ancient tower.’ Please read it again; contemplate34 it; measure it; walk around it; climb up it; try to get at an approximate realisation of the size of it. Is the fellow to that to be found in literature, ancient or modern, foreign or domestic, living or dead, drunk or sober? One notices how fine and grand it sounds. We know that if it was loftily uttered, it got a noble burst of applause from the villagers; yet there isn’t a ray of sense in it, or meaning to it.
McClintock finished his education at Yale in 1843, and came to Hartford on a visit that same year. I have talked with men who at that time talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was real. One needs to remember that fact, and to 81keep fast hold of it; it is the only way to keep McClintock’s book from undermining one’s faith in McClintock’s actuality.
As to the book. The first four pages are devoted35 to an inflamed36 eulogy37 of Woman—simply Woman in general, or perhaps as an Institution—wherein, among other compliments to her details, he pays a unique one to her voice. He says it ‘fills the breast with fond alarms, echoed by every rill.’ It sounds well enough, but it is not true. After the eulogy he takes up his real work, and the novel begins. It begins in the woods, near the village of Sunflower Hill.
‘Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread their beauty over the thick forest, to guide the hero whose bosom38 beats with aspirations39 to conquer the enemy that would tarnish40 his name and to win back the admiration41 of his long-tried friend.’
It seems a general remark, but it is not general; the hero mentioned is the to-be hero of the book; and in this abrupt42 fashion, and without name or description, he is shovelled43 into the tale. ‘With aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish his name’ is merely a phrase flung in for the sake of the sound—let it not mislead the 82reader. No one is trying to tarnish this person; no one has thought of it. The rest of the sentence is also merely a phrase; the man has no friend as yet, and of course has had no chance to try him, or win back his admiration, or disturb him in any other way.
The hero climbs up over ‘Sawney’s Mountain,’ and down the other side, making for an old Indian ‘castle’—which becomes ‘the red man’s hut’ in the next sentence; and when he gets there at last, he ‘surveys with wonder and astonishment’ the invisible structure, ‘which time had buried in the dust; and thought to himself his happiness was not yet complete.’ One doesn’t know why it wasn’t, nor how near it came to being complete, nor what was still wanting to round it up and make it so. Maybe it was the Indian; but the book does not say. At this point we have an episode:
‘Beside the shore of the brook44 sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty, who seemed to be reading some favourite book, and who had a remarkably45 noble countenance46—eyes which betrayed more than a common mind. This, of course, made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him friends in whatever condition of life he 83might be placed. The traveller observed that he was a well-built figure which showed strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way to the village. After he had received the desired information, and was about taking his leave, the youth said, “Are you not Major Elfonzo, the great musician[4]—the champion of a noble cause—the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?” “I bear that name,” said the Major, “and those titles, trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry me triumphantly47 through all my laudable undertakings48, and if,” continued the Major, “you, sir, are the patroniser of noble deeds, I should like to make you my confidant, and learn your address.” The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused49 for a moment, and began: “My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success in that honourable50 profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings52 of man, and shall ever be ready to 84give you any assistance in my official capacity, and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be called from its buried greatness.” The Major grasped him by the hand, and exclaimed: “O! thou exalted53 spirit of inspiration—thou flame of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede54 your progress!”’
4. Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert on the fiddle55, and has a three-township fame.
There is a strange sort of originality56 about McClintock; he imitates other people’s styles, but nobody can imitate his, not even an idiot. Other people can be windy, but McClintock blows a gale57; other people can blubber sentiment, but McClintock spews it; other people can mishandle metaphors59, but only McClintock knows how to make a business of it. McClintock is always McClintock, he is always consistent, his style is always his own style. He does not make the mistake of being relevant on one page and irrelevant60 on another; he is irrelevant on all of them. He does not make the mistake of being lucid61 in one place and obscure in another; he is obscure all the time. He does not make the mistake of slipping in a name here and there that is out of character with his work; he always uses names that exactly and fantastically 85fit his lunatics. In the matter of undeviating consistency62 he stands alone in authorship. It is this that makes his style unique, and entitles it to a name of its own—McClintockian. It is this that protects it from being mistaken for anybody else’s.
Uncredited quotations64 from other writers often leave a reader in doubt as to their authorship, but McClintock is safe from that accident; an uncredited quotation63 from him would always be recognisable. When a boy nineteen years old, who had just been admitted to the bar, says, ‘I trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man,’ we know who is speaking through that boy; we should recognise that note anywhere. There be myriads65 of instruments in this world’s literary orchestra, and a multitudinous confusion of sounds that they make, wherein fiddles66 are drowned, and guitars smothered67, and one sort of drum mistaken for another sort; but whensoever the brazen68 note of the McClintockian trombone breaks through that fog of music, that note is recognisable, and about it there can be no blur69 of doubt.
The novel now arrives at the point where the Major goes home to see his father. When McClintock 86wrote this interview, he probably believed it was pathetic.
‘The road which led to the town presented many attractions. Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was now wending his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. This brought him to remember while alone that he quietly left behind the hospitality of a father’s house, and gladly entered the world, with higher hopes than are often realised. But as he journeyed onward70 he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on the ground, when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son, yet fond of the amusements of life—had been in distant lands, had enjoyed the pleasure of the world, and had frequently returned to the scenes of his boyhood almost destitute71 of many of the comforts of life. In this condition he would frequently say to his father, “Have I offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon me with stinging looks? Will you not favour me with the sound of your voice? If I have trampled73 upon your veneration74, or have 87spread a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into the world, where no heart beats for me—where the foot of man has never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word—allow me to come into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks.” “Forbid it, Heaven, that I should be angry with thee,” answered the father, “my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world—to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read another destiny in thy countenance—I learn thy inclinations75 from the flame that has already kindled76 in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek thee, my dear Elfonzo, it will find thee—thou canst not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot77 out from the remembrance of men a long train of prophecies which they have foretold78 against thee. I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but now the path of life is plain before me, and my sight is clear; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy worldly occupation—take again in thy hand that chord of sweet sounds—struggle with the civilised world, and with your own heart; fly swiftly to the enchanted79 ground—let the night-owl send forth its screams from the stubborn oak—let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars sing together; but 88learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom80, and thy hiding-place. Our most innocent as well as our most lawful81 desires must often be denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will.”
‘Remembering such admonitions with gratitude82, Elfonzo was immediately urged by the recollection of his father’s family to keep moving.’
McClintock has a fine gift in the matter of surprises; but as a rule they are not pleasant ones, they jar upon the feelings. His closing sentence in the last quotation is of that sort. It brings one down out of the tinted83 clouds in too sudden and collapsed84 a fashion. It incenses85 one against the author for a moment. It makes the reader want to take him by his winter-worn locks, and trample72 on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold charity of combat, and blot him out with his own lighted torch. But the feeling does not last. The master takes again in his hand that concord86 of sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified87.
‘His steps became quicker and quicker—he hastened through the piny woods, dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little village of repose88, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry89. His close attention to every important object—his modest questions about 89whatever was new to him—his reverence90 for wise old age, and his ardent91 desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought him into respectable notice.
‘One mild winter day, as he walked along the streets towards the Academy, which stood upon a small eminence92, surrounded by native growth—some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous—all seemed inviting93, and seemed to be the very place for learning as well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades. He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of Southern manners.’
The artfulness of this man! None knows so well as he how to pique94 the curiosity of the reader—and how to disappoint it. He raises the hope, here, that he is going to tell all about how one enters a classic wall in the usual mode of Southern manners; but does he? No; he smiles in his sleeve, and turns aside to other matters.
‘The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated, and listen to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school was dismissed, and the young hearts regained95 their freedom, with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures of a happy home, 90while others tittered at the actions of the past day, he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution—with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined96 to become a student, if he could meet with his approbation97. “Sir,” said he, “I have spent much time in the world. I have travelled among the uncivilised inhabitants of America. I have met with friends, and combated with foes99; but none of these gratify my ambition, or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned world have an influence with the voice of the people themselves. The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate100 and inexperienced little dream of; and now, if you will receive me as I am, with these deficiencies—with all my misguided opinions, I will give you my honour, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution or those who have placed you in this honourable station.” The instructor101, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said: “Be of good cheer—look forward, sir, to the high destination you may attain102. Remember, the more elevated the mark 91at which you aim, the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize.” From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener. A strange nature bloomed before him—giant streams promised him success—gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. All this, so vividly103 described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his glowing fancy.’
It seems to me that this situation is new in romance. I feel sure it has not been attempted before. Military celebrities104 have been disguised and set at lowly occupations for dramatic effect, but I think McClintock is the first to send one of them to school. Thus, in this book, you pass from wonder to wonder, through gardens of hidden treasure, where giant streams bloom before you, and behind you, and all around, and you feel as happy, and groggy105, and satisfied, with your quart of mixed metaphor58 aboard, as you would if it had been mixed in a sample-room, and delivered from a jug106.
Now we come upon some more McClintockian surprises—a sweetheart who is sprung upon us without any preparation, along with a name for her which is even a little more of a surprise than she herself is.
92‘In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class, and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh wreaths of the pine and cypress107 had waited anxiously to drop once more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of those who had so often poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs108. He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening, as he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit to this enchanting109 spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so. He continued sauntering by the road-side, meditating110 on the past. The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became. At that moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon111 vivacity112, with a resolute113 spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she smiled beautifully, promenading114, while her ringlets of hair dangled115 unconsciously around her snowy neck. 93Nothing was wanting to complete her beauty. The tinge116 of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek; the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates. In Ambulinia’s bosom dwelt a noble soul—one that never faded—one that never was conquered.’
Ambulinia! It can hardly be matched in fiction. The full name is Ambulinia Valeer. Marriage will presently round it out and perfect it. Then it will be Mrs. Ambulinia Valeer Elfonzo. It takes the chromo.
‘Her heart yielded to no feeling but the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight, and to whom she felt herself more closely bound, because he sought the hand of no other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. His books no longer were his inseparable companions—his thoughts arrayed themselves to encourage him to the field of victory. He endeavoured to speak to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his duty. As she walked speedily away through the piny woods she calmly echoed: “O! Elfonzo, 94thou wilt117 now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now walk in a new path—perhaps thy way leads through darkness; but fear not, the stars foretell118 happiness.”’
To McClintock that jingling119 jumble120 of fine words meant something, no doubt, or seemed to mean something; but it is useless for us to try to divine what it was. Ambulinia comes—we don’t know whence nor why; she mysteriously intimates—we don’t know what; and then she goes echoing away—we don’t know whither; and down comes the curtain. McClintock’s art is subtle; McClintock’s art is deep.
‘Not many days afterwards, as surrounded by fragrant121 flowers, she sat one evening at twilight122 to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered notes of melody along the distant groves124, the little birds perched on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor. The bells were tolling125, when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood flowers, holding in his hand his favourite instrument of music—his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him as she played carelessly with the songsters that hopped126 from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking than the difference between the two. 95Nature seemed to have given the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous127 to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke128 from the eyes of Elfonzo—such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with sincerity129 of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia: she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one of the natives. But little intimacy130 had existed between them until the year forty-one—because the youth felt that the character of such a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted, at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold looks of crabbed131 old age, which should continually reflect dignity upon those around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the fortunate with a graceful132 mien133, he continued to use diligence and perseverance134.
‘All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character, and, like the unyielding Deity135 that follows the storm to check its rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off 96his embarrassment136, and return where he had before only worshipped.’
At last we begin to get the Major’s measure. We are able to put this and that casual fact together, and build the man up before our eyes, and look at him. And after we have got him built, we find him worth the trouble. By the above comparison between his age and Ambulinia’s, we guess the war-worn veteran to be twenty-two; and the other facts stand thus: he had grown up in the Cherokee country with the same equal proportions as one of the natives—how flowing and graceful the language, and yet how tantalising as to meaning!—he had been turned adrift by his father, to whom he had been ‘somewhat of a dutiful son’; he wandered in distant lands; came back frequently ‘to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life,’ in order to get into the presence of his father’s winter-worn locks, and spread a humid veil of darkness around his expectations; but he was always promptly137 sent back to the cold charity of the combat again; he learned to play the fiddle, and made a name for himself in that line; he had dwelt among the wild tribes; he had philosophised about the despoilers of the kingdoms of the earth, and found out—the cunning creature—that they 97refer their differences to the learned for settlement; he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain, the Achilles of the Florida campaigns, and then had got him a spelling-book and started to school; he had fallen in love with Ambulinia Valeer while she was teething, but had kept it to himself awhile, out of the reverential awe138 which he felt for the child; but now at last, like the unyielding deity who follows the storm to check its rage in the forest, he resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to return where before he had only worshipped. The Major, indeed, has made up his mind to rise up and shake his faculties139 together, and to see if he can’t do that thing himself. This is not clear. But no matter about that: there stands the hero, compact and visible; and he is no mean structure, considering that his creator had never created anything before, and hadn’t anything but rags and wind to build with this time. It seems to me that no one can contemplate this odd creature, this quaint140 and curious blatherskite, without admiring McClintock, or, at any rate, loving him and feeling grateful to him; for McClintock made him; he gave him to us; without McClintock we could not have had him, and would now be poor.
98But we must come to the feast again. Here is a courtship scene, down there in the romantic glades141 among the raccoons, alligators142, and things, that has merit, peculiar143 literary merit. See how Achilles wooes. Dwell upon the second sentence (particularly the close of it), and the beginning of the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos, who is intruded144 upon us unheralded and unexplained. That is McClintock’s way; it is his habit; it is a part of his genius; he cannot help it; he never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make introductions:
‘It could not escape Ambulinia’s penetrating145 eye that he sought an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution as he would have done in a field of battle. “Lady Ambulinia,” said he, trembling, “I have long desired a moment like this. I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express? Will you not, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain 99of Jupiter, release me from thy winding146 chains or cure me——” “Say no more, Elfonzo,” answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand as if she intended to swear eternal hatred147 against the whole world; “another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex. I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide148 me, and am unwilling149 as well as ashamed to be guilty of anything that would lead you to think ‘all is not gold that glitters’; so be not rash in your resolution. It is better to repent151 now, than to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say. I know you have a costly152 gift for me—the noblest that man can make—your heart! You should not offer it to one so unworthy. Heaven, you know, has allowed my father’s house to be made a house of solitude154, a home of silent obedience155, which my parents say is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles. Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart—allow me to say in the fulness of my hopes that I anticipate better days. The bird may stretch its wings towards the sun which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to ascend156 in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise: but 100man confides157 his complaints to the saints in whom he believes; for in their abodes159 of light they know no more sorrow. From your confession160 and indicative looks, I must be that person: if so, deceive not yourself.”
‘Elfonzo replied, “Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness. I have loved you from my earliest days—everything grand and beautiful hath borne the image of Ambulinia: while precipices161 on every hand surrounded me, your guardian162 angel stood and beckoned163 me away from the deep abyss. In every trial—in every misfortune, I have met with your helping164 hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish thy love, till a voice impaired165 with age encouraged the cause, and declared they who acquired thy favour should win a victory. I saw how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthiness. I began to know jealousy166, a strong guest indeed, in my bosom, yet I could see if I gained your admiration, Leos was to be my rival. I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent and regular tranquillity167; yet I have determined by your permission to beg an interest in your prayers—to ask you to animate168 my drooping169 spirits by your smiles and 101your winning looks; for, if you but speak, I shall be conqueror170, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun may forget his dashing steed; yet I am assured that it is only to arm me with divine weapons, which will enable me to complete my long-tried intention.” “Return to yourself, Elfonzo,” said Ambulinia, pleasantly, “a dream of vision has disturbed your intellect—you are above the atmosphere, dwelling51 in the celestial171 regions, nothing is there that urges or hinders, nothing that brings discord172 into our present litigation. I entreat173 you to condescend174 a little, and be a man, and forget it all. When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men, fighting with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles with the delusions175 of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed176 in your imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you—let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she will consider a share in your esteem177 as her highest treasure. Think not that I would allure178 you from the path in which your conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others, as I 102would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy153 of thy love, let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler theme! we will seek it in the stream of time as the sunset in the Tigris.” As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo, saying at the same time—“Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero: be up and doing.” Closing her remarks with this expression, she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed. He ventured not to follow, or detain her. Here he stood alone, gazing at the stars—confounded as he was, here he stood.’
Yes; there he stood. There seems to be no doubt about that. Nearly half of this delirious179 story has now been delivered to the reader. It seems a pity to reduce the other half to a cold synopsis180. Pity! it is more than a pity, it is a crime; for, to synopsise McClintock is to reduce a sky-flushing conflagration181 to dull embers, it is to reduce barbaric splendour to ragged182 poverty. McClintock never wrote a line that was not precious; he never wrote one that could be spared; he never framed one from which a word could be removed without damage. Every sentence that this master has produced may be likened to a 103perfect set of teeth—white, uniform, beautiful. If you pull one, the charm is gone. Still, it is now necessary to begin to pull, and to keep it up; for lack of space requires us to synopsise.
We left Elfonzo standing15 there, amazed. At what, we do not know. Not at the girl’s speech. No; we ourselves should have been amazed at it, of course, for none of us has ever heard anything resembling it: but Elfonzo was used to speeches made up of noise and vacancy183, and could listen to them with undaunted mind like the ‘topmost topaz of an ancient tower’; he was used to making them himself; he—but let it go, it cannot be guessed out; we shall never know what it was that astonished him. He stood there awhile; then he said, ‘Alas! am I now Grief’s disappointed son at last.’ He did not stop to examine his mind, and to try to find out what he probably meant by that, because, for one reason, ‘a mixture of ambition and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart,’ and started him for the village. He resumed his bench in school, ‘and reasonably progressed in his education.’ His heart was heavy, but he went into society, and sought surcease of sorrow in its light distractions184. He made himself popular with his violin, ‘which seemed to have a thousand chords—more 104symphonious than the Muses185 of Apollo, and more enchanting than the ghost of the Hills.’ This is obscure, but let it go.
During this interval186 Leos did some unencouraged courting, but at last, ‘choked by his undertaking,’ he desisted.
Presently ‘Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and new-built village.’ He goes to the house of his beloved; she opens the door herself. To my surprise—for Ambulinia’s heart had still seemed free at the time of their last interview—love beamed from the girl’s eyes. One sees that Elfonzo was surprised, too; for when he caught that light ‘a halloo of smothered shouts ran through every vein187.’ A neat figure—a very neat figure, indeed! Then he kissed her. ‘The scene was overwhelming.’ They went into the parlour. The girl said it was safe, for her parents were abed and would never know. Then we have this fine picture—flung upon the canvas with hardly an effort, as you will notice.
‘Advancing towards him she gave a bright display of her rosy188 neck, and from her head the ambrosial189 locks breathed divine fragrance190; her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess confessed before him.’
105There is nothing of interest in the couple’s interview. Now, at this point the girl invites Elfonzo to a village show, where jealousy is the motive191 of the play, for she wants to teach him a wholesome192 lesson if he is a jealous person. But this is a sham150, and pretty shallow. McClintock merely wants a pretext193 to drag in a plagiarism194 of his upon a scene or two in ‘Othello.’
The lovers went to the play. Elfonzo was one of the fiddlers. He and Ambulinia must not be seen together, lest trouble follow with the girl’s malignant195 father; we are made to understand that clearly. So the two sit together in the orchestra, in the midst of the musicians. This does not seem to be good art. In the first place, the girl would be in the way, for orchestras are always packed closely together, and there is no room to spare for people’s girls; in the next place, one cannot conceal196 a girl in an orchestra without everybody taking notice of it. There can be no doubt, it seems to me, that this is bad art.
Leos is present. Of course one of the first things that catches his eye is the maddening spectacle of Ambulinia ‘leaning upon Elfonzo’s chair.’ This poor girl does not seem to understand even the rudiments197 of concealment198. But she is ‘in her 106seventeenth,’ as the author phrases it, and that is her justification199.
Leos meditates200, constructs a plan—with personal violence as a basis, of course. It was their way, down there. It is a good plain plan, without any imagination in it. He will go out and stand at the front door, and when these two come out he will ‘arrest Ambulinia from the hands of the insolent201 Elfonzo,’ and thus make for himself a ‘more prosperous field of immortality203 than ever was decreed by Omnipotence204, or ever pencil drew, or artist imagined.’ But, dear me, while he is waiting there the couple climb out at the back window and scurry205 home! This is romantic enough, but there is a lack of dignity in the situation.
At this point McClintock puts in the whole of his curious play—which we skip.
Some correspondence follows now. The bitter father and the distressed206 lovers write the letters. Elopements are attempted. They are idiotically planned, and they fail. Then we have several pages of romantic powwow and confusion signifying nothing. Another elopement is planned; it is to take place on Sunday, when everybody is at church. But the ‘hero’ cannot keep the secret; 107he tells everybody. Another author would have found another instrument when he decided207 to defeat this elopement; but that is not McClintock’s way. He uses the person that is nearest at hand.
The evasion208 failed, of course. Ambulinia, in her flight, takes refuge in a neighbour’s house. Her father drags her home. The villagers gather, attracted by the racket.
‘Elfonzo was moved at this sight. The people followed on to see what was going to become of Ambulinia, while he, with downcast looks, kept at a distance, until he saw them enter the abode158 of the father, thrusting her, that was the sigh of his soul, out of his presence into a solitary209 apartment, when she exclaimed, “Elfonzo! Elfonzo! oh! Elfonzo! where art thou, with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, come thou to my relief. Ride on the wings of the wind! Turn thy force loose like a tempest, and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, over this mountain of trouble and confusion. Oh, friends! if any pity me, let your last efforts throng210 upon the green hills, and come to the relief of Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing but innocent love.” Elfonzo called out with a loud voice, “My God, can I stand this! arouse up, I beseech211 you, 108and put an end to this tyranny. Come, my brave boys,” said he, “are you ready to go forth to your duty?” They stood around him. “Who,” said he, “will call us to arms? Where are my thunderbolts of war? Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe98! Who will go forth with me in this ocean of grievous temptation? If there is one who desires to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, which calls aloud for a speedy remedy.” “Mine be the deed,” said a young lawyer, “and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her station before I will forsake212 one jot213 or tittle of my promise to you; what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty214; nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak215 with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar on the blood of the slumberer216.” Mr. Valeer stands at his door with the frown of a demon217 upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon[5] ready to strike the first man who should enter his door. “Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue of my Ambulinia?” said Elfonzo. “All,” exclaimed 109the multitude; and onward they went, with their implements218 of battle. Others, of a more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of the contest.’
5. It is a crowbar.
It will hardly be believed that after all this thunder and lightning not a drop of rain fell; but such is the fact. Elfonzo and his gang stood up and blackguarded Mr. Valeer with vigour219 all night, getting their outlay220 back with interest; then in the early morning the army and its general retired221 from the field, leaving the victory with their solitary adversary222 and his crowbar. This is the first time this has happened in romantic literature. The invention is original. Everything in this book is original; there is nothing hackneyed about it anywhere. Always, in other romances, when you find the author leading up to a climax223, you know what is going to happen. But in this book it is different; the thing which seems inevitable224 and unavoidable never happens; it is circumvented225 by the art of the author every time.
Another elopement was attempted. It failed.
We have now arrived at the end. But it is not exciting. McClintock thinks it is; but it isn’t. One day Elfonzo sends Ambulinia another note—a note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the 110plan is admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, imaginative, deep—oh, everything, and perfectly226 easy. One wonders why it was never thought of before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to leave the breakfast table, ostensibly to ‘attend to the placing of those flowers, which ought to have been done a week ago’—artificial ones, of course; the others wouldn’t keep so long—and then, instead of fixing the flowers, she is to walk out to the grove123, and go off with Elfonzo. The invention of this plan overstrained the author, that is plain, for he straightway shows failing powers. The details of the plan are not many or elaborate. The author shall state them himself—this good soul, whose intentions are always better than his English:
‘“You walk carelessly towards the academy grove, where you will find me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where we shall be joined in wedlock227 with the first connubial228 rights.”’
Last scene of all, which the author, now much enfeebled, tries to smarten up and make acceptable to his spectacular heart by introducing some new properties—silver bow, golden harp229, olive branch,—things that can all come good in an elopement, 111no doubt, yet are not to be compared to an umbrella for real handiness and reliability230 in an excursion of that kind.
‘And away she ran to the sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and his golden harp. They meet—Ambulinia’s countenance brightens—Elfonzo leads up his winged steed. “Mount,” said he, “ye true-hearted, ye fearless soul—the day is ours.” She sprang upon the back of the young thunderbolt; a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand she grasps the reins231, and with the other she holds an olive branch. “Lend thy aid, ye strong winds,” they exclaimed, “ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered.” “Hold,” said Elfonzo, “thy dashing steed.” “Ride on,” said Ambulinia, “the voice of thunder is behind us.” And onward they went with such rapidity that they very soon arrived at Rural Retreat, where they dismounted, and were united with all the solemnities that usually attend such divine operations.’
There is but one Homer, there was but one Shakspeare, there is but one McClintock—and his immortal202 book is before you. Homer could not 112have written this book, Shakspeare could not have written it, I could not have done it myself. There is nothing just like it in the literature of any country or of any epoch. It stands alone, it is monumental. It adds G. Ragsdale McClintock’s to the sum of the republic’s imperishable names.
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1
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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beguiling
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| adj.欺骗的，诱人的v.欺骗( beguile的现在分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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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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inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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tarnish
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| n.晦暗，污点；vt.使失去光泽；玷污 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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shovelled
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| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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undertakings
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| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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50
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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53
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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54
impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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55
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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57
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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metaphors
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| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
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irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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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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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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67
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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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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72
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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76
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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80
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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81
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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82
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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83
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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85
incenses
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| 香( incense的名词复数 ) | |
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concord
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| n.和谐；协调 | |
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pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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89
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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90
reverence
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| 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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91
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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92
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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93
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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94
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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95
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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96
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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97
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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98
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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99
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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100
illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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101
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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102
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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103
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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104
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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105
groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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106
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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107
cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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108
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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109
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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110
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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111
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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112
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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113
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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114
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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115
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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116
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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117
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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118
foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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119
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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120
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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121
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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122
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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123
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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124
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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125
tolling
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| [财]来料加工 | |
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126
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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127
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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128
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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129
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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130
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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131
crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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133
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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134
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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135
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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136
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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137
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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138
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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139
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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140
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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141
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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142
alligators
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| n.短吻鳄( alligator的名词复数 ) | |
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143
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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144
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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145
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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146
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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147
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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148
chide
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| v.叱责；谴责 | |
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149
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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150
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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151
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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152
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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153
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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154
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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155
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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156
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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157
confides
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的第三人称单数 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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158
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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159
abodes
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| 住所( abode的名词复数 )； 公寓； （在某地的）暂住； 逗留 | |
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160
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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161
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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162
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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163
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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165
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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167
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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168
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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169
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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170
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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171
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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172
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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173
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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174
condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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175
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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176
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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177
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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178
allure
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| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
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179
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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180
synopsis
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| n.提要，梗概 | |
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181
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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182
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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183
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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184
distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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185
muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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186
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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187
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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188
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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189
ambrosial
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| adj.美味的 | |
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190
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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191
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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192
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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193
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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194
plagiarism
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| n.剽窃，抄袭 | |
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195
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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196
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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197
rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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198
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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199
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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200
meditates
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的第三人称单数 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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201
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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202
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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203
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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204
omnipotence
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| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
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205
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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206
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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207
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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208
evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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209
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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210
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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211
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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212
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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213
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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214
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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215
wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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216
slumberer
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| 睡眠者，微睡者 | |
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217
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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218
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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219
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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220
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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circumvented
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| v.设法克服或避免（某事物），回避( circumvent的过去式和过去分词 )；绕过，绕行，绕道旅行 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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wedlock
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| n.婚姻，已婚状态 | |
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connubial
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妇的 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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reliability
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| n.可靠性，确实性 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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