Justice is satisfied, though blinder vengeance1 may not be. While the illustrious murdered is on the way to the shrine2, the stark3 corpse4 of his murderer lies in the shambles5. The one died quietly, like his life; the other died fighting, like his crime. And now that over all of them the darkness and the dew have descended6, the populace, which may not be all satisfied, may perhaps be calmed. No triumphal mourning can add to the President's glory; no further execration7 can disturb the assassin's slumbers8. They have gone for what they were into history, into tradition, into the hereafter both of men and spirits; and what they were may be in part concluded. Mr. Lincoln's career passes, in extent, gravity, and eventful association, the province of newspaper biography; but Booth is the hero of a single deed, and the delineation9 of him may begin and be exhausted10 in a single article. I have been at pains, since the day of the President's obsequies, to collect all valid11 information on the subject of his assassin, in anticipation12 of the latter's capture and death. Now that these have been consummated13, I shall print this biography.
The elder Booth in every land was a sojourner14, as all his fathers were. Of Hebrew descent, and by a line of actors, he united in himself that strong Jewish physiognomy which, in its nobler phases, makes all that is dark and beautiful, and the combined vagrancy15 of all men of genius and all men of the stage. Fitful, powerful, passionate16, his life was a succession of vices17 and triumphs. He mastered the intricate characters of dramatic literature by intuition, rather than by study, and produced them with a vigor18 and vividness which almost passed the depicting19 of real life. The stage on which he raved20 and fought became as historic as the actual decks of battle ships, and his small and brawny21 figure comes down to us in those paroxysms of delirious22 art, like that of Harold, or Richard, or Prince Rupert. He drank to excess, was profligate23 but not generous, required but not reliable, and licentious24 to the bounds of cruelty. He threw off the wife of his bosom25 to fly from England with a flower-girl, and, settling in Baltimore, dwelt with his younger companion, and brought up many children, while his first-possessed went down to a drunken and broken-hearted death. He himself, wandering westward26, died on the way, errant and feverish27, even in the closing moments. His widow, too conscious of her predecessor's wrongs, and often taunted28 with them, lived apart, frugal29 and discreet30, and brought her six children up to honorable maturity31. These were Junius Brutus, Edwin Forrest (though he drops the Forrest for professional considerations), John Wilkes, Joseph, and the girls. All of the boys are known to more or less of fame; none of them in his art has reached the renown32 of the father; but one has sent his name as far as that of the great playwright33 to whom they were pupils; wherever Shakspeare is quoted, John Wilkes Booth will be named, and infamously34, like that Hubert in "King John," who would have murdered the gentle Prince Arthur.
It may not be a digression here to ask what has become of the children of the weird35 genius I have sketched36 above. Mrs. Booth, against whom calumny37 has had no word to say, now resides with her daughters in Nineteenth street, New-York. John S. Clarke dwells in princely style in Philadelphia, with the daughter whom he married; he is the business partner of Edwin Booth, and they are likely to become as powerful managers as they have been successful "stars." Edwin Booth, who is said to have the most perfect physical head in America, and whom the ladies call the beau ideal of the melancholy38 Dane, dwells also on Nineteenth street. He has acquired a fortune, and is, without doubt, a frankly39 loyal gentleman. He could not well be otherwise from his membership in the Century Club where literature and loyalty40, are never dissolved. Correct and pleasing without being powerful or brilliant, he has led a plain and appreciated career, and latterly, to his honor, has been awakening41 among dramatic authors some emulation42 by offering handsome compensations for original plays. Junius Brutus Booth, the oldest of them all, most resembles in feature his wild and wayward father; he is not as good an actor as was Wilkes, and kept in the West, that border civilization of the drama; he now lies, on a serious charge of complicity, in Capitol Hill jail. Joseph Booth tried the stage as an utility actor and promptly43 failed. The best part he ever had to play was Orson in the "Iron Chest," and his discomfiture44 was signal; then he studied medicine but grew discouraged, and is now in California in an office of some sort. A son of Booth by his first wife became a first class lawyer in Boston. He never recognized the rest of the family. Wilkes Booth, the third son, was shot dead on Wednesday for attempting to escape from the consequences of murder. Such are the people to whom one of the greatest actors of our time gave his name and lineaments. But I have anticipated the story:
Although her family was large, it was not so hard sailing with Mrs. Rosalie Booth as may be inferred. Her husband's gains had been variably great, and they owned a farm of some value near Baltimore. The boys had plain but not sufficient schooling45, though by the time John Wilkes grew up Edwin and Junius were making some little money and helping46 the family. So Wilkes was sent to a better school than they, where he made some eventful acquaintances. One of these won his admiration47 as much in the playground as in subsequent life upon the field of battle; this was Fitzhugh Lee, son of the great rebel chieftain. I have not heard that Lee ever had any friendship for young Wilkes, but his port and name were enough to excite a less ardent48 imagination—the son of a soldier already great, and a descendant of Washington. Wilkes Booth has often spoken of the memory of the young man, envied his success, and, perhaps, boasted of more intimacy50 than he ever had. The exemplars of young Wilkes, it was soon seen, were anything but literary. He hated school and pent-up life, and loved the open air. He used to stroll off to fish, though that sort of amusement was too sedentary for his nature, but went on fowling51 jaunts52 with enthusiasm. In these latter he manifested that fine nerve, and certain eye, which was the talk of all his associates; but his greatest love was the stable; He learned to ride with his first pair of boots, and hung around the grooms53 to beg permission to take the nags54 to water. He grew in later life to be both an indurated and a graceful55 horseman. Toward his mother and sisters he was affectionate without being obedient. Of all the sons, Wilkes was the most headstrong in-doors, and the most contented56 away from home. He had a fitful gentleness which won him forgiveness, and of one of his sisters he was particularly fond, but none had influence over him. He was seldom contentious57, but obstinately58 bent59, and what he willed, to did in silence, seeming to discard sympathy or confidence. As a boy he was never bright, except in a boy's sense; that is, he could run and leap well, fight when challenged, and generally fell in with the sentiment of the crowd. He therefore made many companions, and his early days all passed between Baltimore city and the adjacent farm.
I have heard it said as the only evidence of Booth's ferocity in those early times that he was always shooting cats, and killed off almost the entire breed in his neighbourhood. But on more than one occasion he ran away from both school and home, and once made the trip of the Chesapeake to the oyster60 fisheries without advising anybody of his family.
While yet very young, Wilkes Booth became an habitue at the theater. His traditions and tastes were all in that direction. His blood was of the stage, like that of the Keans, the Kembles, and the Wallacks. He would not commence at the bottom of the ladder and climb from round to round, nor take part in more than a few Thespian61 efforts. One night, however, a young actor, who was to have a benefit and wished to fill the house, resolved for the better purpose to give Wilkes a chance. He announced that a son of the great Booth of tradition, would enact62 the part of Richmond, and the announcement was enough. Before a crowded place, Booth played so badly that he was hissed63. Still holding to his gossamer64 hopes and high conceit65, Wilkes induced John S. Clarke, who was then addressing his sister, to obtain him a position in the company of the Arch Street Theater at Philadelphia.
For eight dollars a week, Wilkes Booth, at the age of twenty-two, contracted with William Wheatley to play in any piece or part for which he might be cast, and to appear every day at rehearsal66. He had to play the Courier in Sheridan Knowles's "Wife" on his first night, with five or ten little speeches to make; but such was his nervousness that he blundered continually, and quite balked67 the piece. Soon afterward68 he undertook the part of one of the Venetian comrades in Hugo's "Lucretia Borgia," and was to have said in his turn—
"Madame, I am Petruchio Pandolfo;" instead of which he exclaimed:
"Madame, I am Pondolfio Pet—, Pedolfio Pat—, Pantuchio Ped—; damn it? what am I?"
The very next night he was to play Dawson, an important part in Moore's tragedy of "The Gamester." He had bought a new dress to wear on this night, and made abundant preparation to do himself honor. He therefore invited a lady whom he knew to visit the theater, and witness his triumph. But at the instant of his appearance on the stage, the audience, remembering the Petruchio Pandolfo of the previous night, burst into laughter, hisses70, and mock applause, so that he was struck dumb, and stood rigid71, with nothing whatever to say. Mr. John Dolman, to whose Stukely has played, was compelled, therefore, to strike Dawson entirely72 out of the piece.
These occurrences nettled73 Booth, who protested that he studied faithfully but that his want of confidence ruined him. Mr. Fredericks the stage manager made constant complaints of Booth, who by the way, did not play under his full name, but as Mr. J. Wilkes—and he bore the general reputation of having no promise, and being a careless fellow. He associated freely with such of the subordinate actors as he liked; but being, through Clarke, then a rising favourite, of better connections, might, had he chosen, advanced himself socially, if not artistically74. Clarke was to have a benefit one evening, and to enact, among other things, a mock Richard III., to which he allowed Wilkes Booth to play a real Richmond. On this occasion, for the first time, Booth showed some energy, and obtain some applause. But, in general, he was stumbling and worthless I myself remember, on three consecutive76 nights, hearing him trip up and receive suppressed hisses. He lacked enterprise; other young actors, instead of waiting to be given better parts, committed them to memory, in the hope that their real interpreter might not come to hand. Among these I recall John McCullough, who afterwards became quite a celebrated77 actor. He was getting, if I correctly remember, only six dollars a week, while Booth obtained eight. Yet Wilkes Booth seemed too slow or indifferent to get on the weather side of such chances. He still held the part of third walking gentleman, and the third is always the first to be walked off in case of strait, as was Wilkes Booth. He did not survive forty weeks engagement, nor make above three hundred dollars in all that time. The Kellers arrived; they cut down the company, and they dispensed78 with Wilkes Booth. He is remembered in Philadelphia by his failure as in the world by his crime.
About this time a manager named Kunkle gave Booth a salary of twenty dollars a week to go to the Richmond Theater. There he played a higher order of parts, and played them better, Winning applauses from the easy provincial79 cities, and taking, as everywhere the ladies by storm. I have never wondered why many actors were strongly predisposed toward the South. There, their social status is nine times as big as with us. The hospitable80, lounging, buzzing character of the southerner is entirely consonant81 with the cosmopolitanism82 of the stage, and that easy "hang-up-your-hatativeness," which is the rule and the demand in Thespianship. We place actors outside of society, and execrate83 them because they are there. The South took them into affable fellowship, and was not ruined by it, but beloved by the fraternity. Booth played two seasons in Richmond, and left in some esteem84.
When the John Brown raid occured, Booth left the Richmond Theater for the scene of strife85 in a picked company with which he had affiliated86 for some time. From his connection with the militia87 on this occasion he was wont88 to trace his fealty89 to Virginia. He was a non-commissioned officer, and remained at Charleston till after the execution, visiting the old pike man in jail, and his company was selected to form guard around the scaffold when John Brown went, white-haired, to his account. There may be in this a consolation90 for the canonizers of the first arm-bearer between the sections, that one whose unit swelled91 the host to crush out that brave old life, took from the scene inspiration enough to slay92 a merciful President in his unsuspecting leisure. Booth never referred to John Brown's death in bravado93; possibly at that gallows94 began some such terrible purpose as he afterward consummated.
It was close upon the beginning of the war when Booth resolved to transform himself from a stock actor to a "star." As many will read this who do not understand such distinctions, let me preface it by explaining that a "star" is an actor who belongs to no one theater, but travels from each to all, playing a few weeks at a time, and sustained in his chief character by the regular or stock actors. A stock actor is a good actor, and a poor fool. A star is an advertisement in tights, who grows rich and corrupts95 the public taste. Booth was a star, and being so, had an agent. The agent is a trumpeter who goes on before, writing the impartial96 notices which you see in the editorial columns of country papers and counting noses at the theater doors. Booth's agent was one Matthew Canning, an exploded Philadelphia lawyer, who took to managing by passing the bar, and J. Wilkes no longer, but our country's rising tragedian. J. Wilkes Booth, opened in Montgomery, Alabama, in his father's consecrated97 part of Richard III. It was very different work between receiving eight dollars a week and getting half the gross proceeds of every performance. Booth kept northward98 when his engagement was done, playing in many cities such parts as Romeo, the Corsican Brothers, and Raphael in the "Marble Heart;" in all of these he gained applause, and his journey eastward99, ending in eastern cities like Providence100, Portland, and Boston was a long success, in part deserved. In Boston he received especial commendation for his enactment101 of Richard.
I have looked over this play, his best and favorite one, to see how closely the career of the crookback he so often delineated resembled his own.
How like that fearful night of Richard on Bosworth field must have been Booth's sleep in the barn at Port Royal, tortured by ghosts of victims all repeating.
"When I was mortal my anointed body
By thee was punched full of deadly holes:
Think on the Tower and me! Despair and die!"
Or this, from some of Booth's female victims:
"Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
To-morrow in the battle think on me; despair and die!"
These terrible conjurations must have recalled how aptly the scene as often rehearsed by Booth, sword in hand, where, leaping from his bed, he cries in horror:
Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream.
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight!
Cold, flareful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear? Myself! there is none else by:
Is there a murderer here? No!—Yes!—I am!
Then fly,—what from myself?
* * * * *
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale.
Murder, stern murder in the direst degree:
All several sins, all used in each degree.
By these starring engagments, Booth made incredible sums. His cashbook, for one single season, showed earnings110 deposited in bank of twenty-two odd thousand dollars. In New York he did not get a hearing, except at a benefit or two: where he played parts not of his selection. In Philadelphia his earlier failure predisposed the people to discard him, and they did. But he had made enough, and resolved to invest his winnings, The oil fever had just begun; he hired an agent, sent him to the western districts and gave him discretionary power; his investments all turned out profitable.
Booth died, as far as understood without debts. The day before the murder he paid an old friend a hundred dollars which he had borrowed two days previously111. He banked at Jay Cook's in Washington, generally; but turned most of his funds into stock and other matters. He gave eighty dollars eight month's ago for a part investing with others in a piece of western oil land. The certificate for this land he gave to his sister. Just before he died his agent informed him that the share was worth fifteen thousand dollars. Booth kept his accounts latterly with great regularity112, and was lavish113 as ever, but took note of all expenditures114, however irregular. He was one of those men whom the possession of money seems to have energized115; his life, so purposeless long before, grew by good fortune to a strict computation with the world. Yet what availed so sudden reformation, and of what use was the gaining of wealth, to throw one's life so soon away, and leap from competence116 to hunted infamy117.
The beauty of this man and his easy confidentiality118, not familiar, but marked by a mild and even dignity, made many women impassioned of him. He was licentious as men, and particularly as actors go, but not a seducer119, so far as I can learn. I have traced one case in Philadelphia where a young girl who had seen him on the stage became enamored of him.
She sent him bouquets120, notes, photographs and all the accessories of an intrigue121. Booth, to whom such things were common, yielded to the girl's importunities at last and gave her an interview. He was surprised to find that so bold a correspondent was so young, so fresh, and so beautiful. He told her therefore, in pity, the consequences of pursuing him; that he entertained no affection for her, though a sufficient desire, and that he was a man of the world to whom all women grew fulsome in their turn.
"Go home," he said, "and beware of actors. They are to be seen, not to be known."
The girl, yet more infatuated, persisted. Booth, who had no real virtue122 except by scintillations, became what he had promised, and one more soul went to the isles123 of Cyprus.
In Montgomery, if I do not mistake, Booth met the woman from whom he received a stab which he carried all the rest of his days. She was an actress, and he visited her. They assumed a relation creditable only in La Boheme, and were as tender as love without esteem can ever be. But, after a time, Booth wearied of her and offered to say "good by." She refused—he treated her coldly; she pleaded—he passed her by.
Then, with a jealous woman's frenzy124, she drew a knife upon him and stabbed him in the neck, with the intent to kill him. Being muscular, he quickly disarmed125 her, though he afterward suffered from the wound poignantly126.
Does it not bring a blush to our faces that a good, great man, like he who has died—our President—should have met his fate from one so inured127 to a life of ribaldry? Yet, only such an one could have been found to murder Abraham Lincoln.
The women persecuted128 Booth more than he followed them. He was waylaid129 by married women in every provincial town or city where he played. His face was so youthful, yet so manly130, and his movements so graceful and excellent, that other than the coarse and errant placed themselves in his way. After his celebrated Boston engagement, women of all ages and degrees pressed in crowds before the Tremont House to see him depart. Their motives131 were various, but whether curiosity or worse, exhibiting plainly the deep influence which Booth had upon the sex. He could be anywhere easy and gentlemanly, and it is a matter of wonder that with the entry which he had to many well-stocked homes, he did not make hospitality mourn and friendship find in his visit shame and ruin. I have not space to go into the millionth catalogue of Booth's intrigues133, even if this journal permitted further elucidation134 of so banned a subject. Most of his adherents135 of this class were, like Heine's Polish virgins136, and he was very popular with those dramatic ladies—few, I hope and know, in their profession—to whom divorce courts are superfluous137. His last permanent acquaintance was one Ella Turner, of Richmond, who loved him with all the impetuosity of that love which does not think, and strove to die at the tidings of his crime and fight. Happy that even such a woman did not die associated with John Wilkes Booth. Such devotion to any other murderer would have earned some poet's tear. But the daisies will not grow a whole rod from his grave.
Of what avail, may we ask, on the impossible supposition that Booth's crime could have been considered heroic, was it that such a record should have dared to die for fame? Victory would have been ashamed of its champion, as England of Nelson, and France of Mirabeau.
I may add to this record that he had not been in Philadelphia a year, on first setting out in life, before getting into a transaction of the kind specified138. For an affair at his boarding-house he was compelled to pay a considerable sum of money, and it happily occurred just as he was to quit the city. He had many quarrels and narrow escapes through his license139, a husband in Syracuse, N. Y., once followed him all the way to Cleveland to avenge140 a domestic insult.
Booth's paper "To Whom it may Concern" was not his only attempt at influential141 composition. He sometimes persuaded himself that he had literary ability; but his orthography142 and pronunciation were worse than his syntax. The paper deposited with J. S. Clarke was useful as showing his power to entertain a deliberate purpose. It has one or two smart passages in it—as this:
In the passages following there is common sense and lunacy:
"I know how foolish I shall be deemed for undertaking145 such a step as this, where, on the one side, I have many friends and everything to make me happy, where my profession alone, has gained me an income of more than twenty thousand dollars a year, and where my great personal ambition in my profession has such a great field for labor146. On the other hand, the South have never bestowed147 upon me one kind word; a place now where I have no friends, except beneath the sod; a place where I must either become a private soldier or a beggar. To give up all of the former for the latter, besides my mother and sisters, whom I love so dearly (although they so widely differ with me in opinion) seems insane; but God is my judge."
Now, read the beginning of the manifesto148, and see how prophetic were his words of his coming infamy. If he expected so much for capturing the President merely, what of our execration at slaying149 him?
"Right or wrong, God judge me, not man. For be my motive132 good or bad, of one thing I am sure, the lasting150 condemnation151 of the North.
"I love peace more than life. Have loved the union beyond expression. For four years have I waited, hoped and prayed for the dark clouds to break, and for a restoration of our former sunshine. To wait longer would be a crime. All hope for peace is dead. My prayers have proved as idle as my hopes. God's will be done. I go to see and share the bitter end."
To wait longer would be a crime. Oh! what was the crime not to wait! Had he only shared the bitter end, then, in the common trench152, his memory might have been hidden. The end had come when he appeared to make of benignant victory a quenchless153 revenge. One more selection from his apostrophe will do. It suggests the manner of his death:
"They say that the South has found that 'last ditch' which the North have so long derided154. Should I reach her in safety, and find it true, I will proudly beg permission to triumph or die in that same 'ditch' by her side." The swamp near which he died may be called, without unseemly pun—a truth, not a bon mot—the last ditch of the rebellion.
None of the printed pictures that I have seen do justice to Booth. Some of the cartes de visite get him very nearly. He had one of the finest vital heads I have ever seen. In fact, he was one of the best exponents155 of vital beauty I have ever met. By this I refer to physical beauty in the Medician sense—health, shapeliness, power in beautiful poise156, and seemingly more powerful in repose157 than in energy. His hands and feet were sizable, not small, and his legs were stout158 and muscular, but inclined to bow like his father's. From the waist up he was a perfect man; his chest being full and broad, his shoulders gently sloping, and his arms as white as alabaster159, but hard as marble. Over these, upon a neck which was its proper column, rose the cornice of a fine Doric face, spare at the jaws160 and not anywhere over-ripe, but seamed with a nose of Roman model, the only relic161 of his half-Jewish parentage, which gave decision to the thoughtfully stern sweep of two direct, dark eyes, meaning to woman snare162, and to man a search warrant, while the lofty square forehead and square brows were crowned with a weight of curling jetty hair, like a rich Corinthian capital. His profile was eagleish, and afar his countenance163 was haughty164. He seemed throat full of introspections, ambitious self-examinings, eye-strides into the future, as if it withheld165 him something to which he had a right. I have since wondered whether this moody166 demeanor167 did not come of a guilty spirit, but all the Booths look so.
Wilkes spoke49 to me in Washington for the first time three weeks before the murder. His address was winning as a girl's, rising in effect not from what he said, but from how he said it. It was magnetic, and I can describe it therefore by its effects alone. I seemed, when he had spoken, to lean toward this man. His attitude spoke to me; with as easy familiarity as I ever observed he drew rear and conversed168. The talk was on so trite169 things that it did not lie a second in the head, but when I left him it was with the feeling that a most agreeable fellow had passed by.
The next time the name of Wilkes Booth recurred170 to me was like the pistol shot he had fired. The right hand I had shaken murdered the father of the country.
Booth was not graceful with his feet, although his ordinary walk was pleasant enough. But his arms were put to artistic75 uses; not the baser ones like boxing, but all sorts of fencing, manual practice, and the handling of weapons.
In his dress, he was neat without being particular. Almost any clothes could fit him; but he had nothing of the exquisite171 about him; his neckties and all such matters were good without being gaudy172. Nature had done much for him. In this beautiful palace an outlaw173 had builded his fire, and slept, and plotted, and dreamed.
I have heard it said that Booth frequently cut his adversaries174 upon the stage in sheer wantonness or bloodthirstiness. This is a mistake, and is attributable to his father, the elder Booth, who had the madness of confounding himself with the character. Wilkes was too good a fencer to make ugly gashes; his pride was his skill, not his awkwardness. Once
he was playing with John McCullough in the last act of "Richard." They were fighting desperately175. Suddenly the cross-piece on the hilt of McCullough's sword flew off and cut the owner deeply in the forehead. Blood ran down McCullough's face, though they continued to struggle, and while, ostensibly, Booth was imitating a demon176, he said in a half whisper:
"Good God, John, did I hurt you?"
As an actor, Booth was too energetic to be correct; his conception of Richard was vivid and original, one of the best that we have had, and he came nearer his father's rendering178 of the last act than any body we have had. His combat scene was terrific. The statement that his voice had failed has no valid foundation; it was as good when he challenged the cavalry-men to combat as in the best of his Thespian successes. In all acting179 that required delicate characterization, refined conception or carefulness, Booth was at sea. But in strong physical parts, requiring fair reading and an abundance of spring and tension, he was much finer than hearsay180 would have us believe.
His Romeo was described a short time ago by the Washington Intelligencer as the most satisfactory of all renderings181 of that fine character. He played the Corsican Brothers three weeks on a run in Boston. He played Pescara at Ford's Theater—his last mock part in this world—on to-morrow (Saturday) night, six weeks ago.
He was fond of learning and reciting fugitive182 poems. His favorite piece was "The Beautiful Snow" comparing it to a lost purity. He has been known by gentlemen in this city to recite this poem with fine effect, and cry all the while. This was on the principle of "guilty people sitting at a play." His pocket-book was generally full of little selections picked up at random183, and he had considerable delicacy184 of appreciation185.
On the morning of the murder, Booth breakfasted with Miss Carrie Bean, the daughter of a merchant, and a very respectable young lady, at the National Hall. He arose from the table at, say eleven o'clock. During the breakfast, those who watched him say that he was lively, piquant186 and self-possessed as ever in his life.
That night the horrible crime thrilled the land. A period of crippled flight succeeded. Living in swamps, upon trembling hospitality, upon hopes which sank as he leaned upon them. Booth passed the nights in perilous187 route or broken sleep, and in the end went down like a bravo, but in the eyes of all who read his history, commanding no respect for his valor188, charity for his motive, or sympathy for his sin.
The closing scenes of these terrible days are reserved for a second paper. Much matter that should have gone into this is retained for the present.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
shrine
|
|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
shambles
|
|
| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
execration
|
|
| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
slumbers
|
|
| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
delineation
|
|
| n.记述；描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
valid
|
|
| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
consummated
|
|
| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
sojourner
|
|
| n.旅居者，寄居者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
vagrancy
|
|
| （说话的，思想的）游移不定； 漂泊； 流浪； 离题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
vices
|
|
| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
vigor
|
|
| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
depicting
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
raved
|
|
| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
brawny
|
|
| adj.强壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
profligate
|
|
| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
licentious
|
|
| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
taunted
|
|
| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
frugal
|
|
| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
renown
|
|
| n.声誉，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
playwright
|
|
| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
infamously
|
|
| 不名誉地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
calumny
|
|
| n.诽谤，污蔑，中伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
emulation
|
|
| n.竞争；仿效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
discomfiture
|
|
| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
schooling
|
|
| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
fowling
|
|
| 捕鸟，打鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
jaunts
|
|
| n.游览( jaunt的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
grooms
|
|
| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
nags
|
|
| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
contentious
|
|
| adj.好辩的，善争吵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
obstinately
|
|
| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
oyster
|
|
| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
thespian
|
|
| adj.戏曲的；n.演员；悲剧演员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
enact
|
|
| vt.制定(法律)；上演，扮演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
gossamer
|
|
| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
conceit
|
|
| n.自负，自高自大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
rehearsal
|
|
| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
balked
|
|
| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
chagrin
|
|
| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
hisses
|
|
| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
nettled
|
|
| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
consecutive
|
|
| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
dispensed
|
|
| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
provincial
|
|
| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
consonant
|
|
| n.辅音；adj.[音]符合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
cosmopolitanism
|
|
| n. 世界性,世界主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
execrate
|
|
| v.憎恶；厌恶；诅咒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
affiliated
|
|
| adj. 附属的, 有关连的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
militia
|
|
| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
fealty
|
|
| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
slay
|
|
| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
bravado
|
|
| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
gallows
|
|
| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
corrupts
|
|
| （使）败坏( corrupt的第三人称单数 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
impartial
|
|
| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
consecrated
|
|
| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
northward
|
|
| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
enactment
|
|
| n.演出，担任…角色；制订，通过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
fulsome
|
|
| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
guile
|
|
| n.诈术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
bind
|
|
| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
afflict
|
|
| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
condemns
|
|
| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
perjury
|
|
| n.伪证；伪证罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
regularity
|
|
| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
lavish
|
|
| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
expenditures
|
|
| n.花费( expenditure的名词复数 )；使用；（尤指金钱的）支出额；（精力、时间、材料等的）耗费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
energized
|
|
| v.给予…精力，能量( energize的过去式和过去分词 )；使通电 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
competence
|
|
| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
infamy
|
|
| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
confidentiality
|
|
| n.秘而不宣，保密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
seducer
|
|
| n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
bouquets
|
|
| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
intrigue
|
|
| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
disarmed
|
|
| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
poignantly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
inured
|
|
| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
persecuted
|
|
| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
waylaid
|
|
| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
intrigues
|
|
| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
elucidation
|
|
| n.说明，阐明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
adherents
|
|
| n.支持者，拥护者( adherent的名词复数 )；党羽；徒子徒孙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
virgins
|
|
| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
specified
|
|
| adj.特定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
avenge
|
|
| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
influential
|
|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
orthography
|
|
| n.拼字法，拼字式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
gashes
|
|
| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
manifesto
|
|
| n.宣言，声明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
slaying
|
|
| 杀戮。 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
condemnation
|
|
| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
trench
|
|
| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
quenchless
|
|
| 不可熄灭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
derided
|
|
| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
exponents
|
|
| n.倡导者( exponent的名词复数 )；说明者；指数；能手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
poise
|
|
| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
alabaster
|
|
| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
jaws
|
|
| n.口部；嘴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
relic
|
|
| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
snare
|
|
| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
withheld
|
|
| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
moody
|
|
| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
demeanor
|
|
| n.行为；风度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
conversed
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
trite
|
|
| adj.陈腐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
gaudy
|
|
| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
outlaw
|
|
| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
adversaries
|
|
| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
gashed
|
|
| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
hearsay
|
|
| n.谣传，风闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
renderings
|
|
| n.（戏剧或乐曲的）演奏( rendering的名词复数 )；扮演；表演；翻译作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
fugitive
|
|
| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
piquant
|
|
| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
valor
|
|
| n.勇气，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |