I REMEMBER my father telling me that sitting up late one night talking with Tennyson, the latter remarked that he had not kept such late hours since a recent visit of Jowett. On that occasion the poet and the philosopher had talked together well into the small hours of the morning. My father asked Tennyson what was the subject of conversation that had so engrossed4 them. "Murders," replied Tennyson. It would have been interesting to have heard Tennyson and Jowett discussing such a theme. The fact is a tribute to the interest that crime has for many men of intellect and imagination. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? Rob history and fiction of crime, how tame and colourless would be the residue6! We who are living and enduring in the presence of one of the greatest crimes on record, must realise that trying as this period of the world's history is to those who are passing through it, in the hands of some great historian it may make very good reading for posterity7. Perhaps we may find some little consolation8 in this fact, like the unhappy victims of famous freebooters such as Jack9 Sheppard or Charley Peace.
But do not let us flatter ourselves. Do not let us, in all the pomp and circumstance of stately history, blind ourselves to the fact that the crimes of Frederick, or Napoleon, or their successors, are in essence no different from those of Sheppard or Peace. We must not imagine that the bad man who happens to offend against those particular laws which constitute the criminal code belongs to a peculiar10 or atavistic type, that he is a man set apart from the rest of his fellow-men by mental or physical peculiarities12. That comforting theory of the Lombroso school has been exploded, and the ordinary inmates13 of our prisons shown to be only in a very slight degree below the average in mental and physical fitness of the normal man, a difference easily explained by the environment and conditions in which the ordinary criminal is bred.
A certain English judge, asked as to the general characteristics of the prisoners tried before him, said: "They are just like other people; in fact, I often think that, but for different opportunities and other accidents, the prisoner and I might very well be in one another's places." "Greed, love of pleasure," writes a French judge, "lust14, idleness, anger, hatred15, revenge, these are the chief causes of crime. These passions and desires are shared by rich and poor alike, by the educated and uneducated. They are inherent in human nature; the germ is in every man."
Convicts represent those wrong-doers who have taken to a particular form of wrong-doing punishable by law. Of the larger army of bad men they represent a minority, who have been found out in a peculiarly unsatisfactory kind of misconduct. There are many men, some lying, unscrupulous, dishonest, others cruel, selfish, vicious, who go through life without ever doing anything that brings them within the scope of the criminal code, for whose offences the laws of society provide no punishment. And so it is with some of those heroes of history who have been made the theme of fine writing by gifted historians.
Mr. Basil Thomson, the present head of the Criminal Investigation17 Department, has said recently that a great deal of crime is due to a spirit of "perverse18 adventure" on the part of the criminal. The same might be said with equal justice of the exploits of Alexander the Great and half the monarchs20 and conquerors21 of the world, whom we are taught in our childhood's days to look up to as shining examples of all that a great man should be. Because crimes are played on a great stage instead of a small, that is no reason why our moral judgment22 should be suspended or silenced. Class Machiavelli and Frederick the Great as a couple of rascals23 fit to rank with Jonathan Wild, and we are getting nearer a perception of what constitutes the real criminal. "If," said Frederick the Great to his minister, Radziwill, "there is anything to be gained by it, we will be honest; if deception24 is necessary, let us be cheats." These are the very sentiments of Jonathan Wild.
Crime, broadly speaking, is the attempt by fraud or violence to possess oneself of something belonging to another, and as such the cases of it in history are as clear as those dealt with in criminal courts. Germany to-day has been guilty of a perverse and criminal adventure, the outcome of that false morality applied26 to historical transactions, of which Carlyle's life of Frederick is a monumental example. In that book we have a man whose instincts in more ways than one were those of a criminal, held up for our admiration27, in the same way that the same writer fell into dithyrambic praise over a villain28 called Francia, a former President of Paraguay. A most interesting work might be written on the great criminals of history, and might do something towards restoring that balance of moral judgment in historical transactions, for the perversion29 of which we are suffering to-day.
In the meantime we must be content to study in the microcosm of ordinary crime those instincts, selfish, greedy, brutal30 which, exploited often by bad men in the so-called cause of nations, have wrought31 such havoc32 to the happiness of mankind. It is not too much to say that in every man there dwell the seeds of crime; whether they grow or are stifled33 in their growth by the good that is in us is a chance mysteriously determined34. As children of nature we must not be surprised if our instincts are not all that they should be. "In sober truth," writes John Stuart Mill, "nearly all the things for which men are hanged or imprisoned35 for doing to one another are nature's everyday performances," and in another passage: "The course of natural phenomena36 being replete37 with everything which when committed by human beings is most worthy38 of abhorrence39, anyone who endeavoured in his actions to imitate the natural course of things would be universally seen and acknowledged to be the wickedest of men."
Here is explanation enough for the presence of evil in our natures, that instinct to destroy which finds comparatively harmless expression in certain forms of taking life, which is at its worst when we fall to taking each other's. It is to check an inconvenient40 form of the expression of this instinct that we punish murderers with death. We must carry the definition of murder a step farther before we can count on peace or happiness in this world. We must concentrate all our strength on fighting criminal nature, both in ourselves and in the world around us. With the destructive forces of nature we are waging a perpetual struggle for our very existence. Why dissipate our strength by fighting among ourselves? By enlarging our conception of crime we move towards that end. What is anti-social, whether it be written in the pages of the historian or those of the Newgate Calendar, must in the future be regarded with equal abhorrence and subjected to equally sure punishment. Every professor of history should now and then climb down from the giddy heights of Thucydides and Gibbon and restore his moral balance by comparing the acts of some of his puppets with those of their less fortunate brethren who have dangled41 at the end of a rope. If this war is to mean anything to posterity, the crime against humanity must be judged in the future by the same rigid42 standard as the crime against the person.
The individual criminals whose careers are given in this book have been chosen from among their fellows for their pre-eminence in character or achievement. Some of the cases, such as Butler, Castaing and Holmes, are new to most English readers.
Charles Peace is the outstanding popular figure in nineteenth-century crime. He is the type of the professional criminal who makes crime a business and sets about it methodically and persistently44 to the end. Here is a man, possessing many of those qualities which go to make the successful man of action in all walks of life, driven by circumstances to squander45 them on a criminal career. Yet it is a curious circumstance that this determined and ruthless burglar should have suffered for what would be classed in France as a "crime passionel." There is more than a possibility that a French jury would have found extenuating46 circumstances in the murder of Dyson. The fate of Peace is only another instance of the wrecking47 a strong man's career by his passion for a woman. In Robert Butler we have the criminal by conviction, a conviction which finds the ground ready prepared for its growth in the natural laziness and idleness of the man's disposition. The desire to acquire things by a short cut, without taking the trouble to work for them honestly, is perhaps the most fruitful of all sources of crime. Butler, a bit of a pedant48, is pleased to justify49 his conduct by reason and philosophy—he finds in the acts of unscrupulous monarchs an analogy to his own attitude towards life. What is good enough for Caesar Borgia is good enough for Robert Butler. Like Borgia he comes to grief; criminals succeed and criminals fail. In the case of historical criminals their crimes are open; we can estimate the successes and failures. With ordinary criminals, we know only those who fail. The successful, the real geniuses in crime, those whose guilt25 remains50 undiscovered, are for the most part unknown to us. Occasionally in society a man or woman is pointed51 out as having once murdered somebody or other, and at times, no doubt, with truth. But the matter can only be referred to clandestinely52; they are gazed at with awe53 or curiosity, mute witnesses to their own achievement. Some years ago James Payn, the novelist, hazarded the reckoning that one person in every five hundred was an undiscovered murderer. This gives us all a hope, almost a certainty, that we may reckon one such person at least among our acquaintances.(1)
(1) The author was one of three men discussing this subject in a London
club. They were able to name six persons of their various acquaintance
who were, or had been, suspected of being successful murderers.
Derues is remarkable54 for the extent of his social ambition, the daring and impudent55 character of his attempts to gratify it, the skill, the consummate57 hypocrisy58 with which he played on the credulity of honest folk, and his flagrant employment of that weapon known and recognised to-day in the most exalted59 spheres by the expressive60 name of "bluff61." He is remarkable, too, for his mirth and high spirits, his genial62 buffoonery; the merry murderer is a rare bird.
Professor Webster belongs to that order of criminal of which Eugene Aram and the Rev16. John Selby Watson are our English examples, men of culture and studious habits who suddenly burst on the astonished gaze of their fellowmen as murderers. The exact process of mind by which these hitherto harmless citizens are converted into assassins is to a great extent hidden from us.
Perhaps Webster's case is the clearest of the three. Here we have a selfish, self-indulgent and spendthrift gentleman who has landed himself in serious financial embarrassment63, seeking by murder to escape from an importunate64 and relentless65 creditor66. He has not, apparently67, the moral courage to face the consequences of his own weakness. He forgets the happiness of his home, the love of those dear to him, in the desire to free himself from a disgrace insignificent{sic} in comparison with that entailed68 by committing the highest of all crimes. One would wish to believe that Webster's deed was unpremeditated, the result of a sudden gust69 of passion caused by his victim's acrimonious70 pursuit of his debtor71. But there are circumstances in the case which tell powerfully against such a view. The character of the murderer seems curiously72 contradictory73; both cunning and simplicity74 mark his proceedings75; he makes a determined attempt to escape from the horrors of his situation and shows at the same time a curious insensibility to its real gravity. Webster was a man of refined tastes and seemingly gentle character, loved by those near to him, well liked by his friends.
The mystery that surrounds the real character of Eugene Aram is greater, and we possess little or no means of solving it. From what motive this silent, arrogant76 man, despising his ineffectual wife, this reserved and moody77 scholar stooped to fraud and murder the facts of the case help us little to determine. Was it the hope of leaving the narrow surroundings of Knaresborough, his tiresome78 belongings79, his own poor way of life, and seeking a wider field for the exercise of those gifts of scholarship which he undoubtedly80 possessed81 that drove him to commit fraud in company with Clark and Houseman, and then, with the help of the latter, murder the unsuspecting Clark? The fact of his humble82 origin makes his association with so low a ruffian as Houseman the less remarkable. Vanity in all probability played a considerable part in Aram's disposition. He would seem to have thought himself a superior person, above the laws that bind83 ordinary men. He showed at the end no consciousness of his guilt. Being something of a philosopher, he had no doubt constructed for himself a philosophy of life which served to justify his own actions. He was a deist, believing in "one almighty84 Being the God of Nature," to whom he recommended himself at the last in the event of his "having done amiss." He emphasised the fact that his life had been unpolluted and his morals irreproachable85. But his views as to the murder of Clark he left unexpressed. He suggested as justification86 of it that Clark had carried on an intrigue87 with his neglected wife, but he never urged this circumstance in his defence, and beyond his own statement there is no evidence of such a connection.
The Revd. John Selby Watson, headmaster of the Stockwell Grammar School, at the age of sixty-five killed his wife in his library one Sunday afternoon. Things had been going badly with the unfortunate man. After more than twenty-five years' service as headmaster of the school at a meagre salary of L400 a year, he was about to be dismissed; the number of scholars had been declining steadily88 and a change in the headmastership thought necessary; there was no suggestion of his receiving any kind of pension. The future for a man of his years was dark enough. The author of several learned books, painstaking89, scholarly, dull, he could hope to make but little money from literary work. Under a cold, reserved and silent exterior90, Selby Watson concealed92 a violence of temper which he sought diligently93 to repress. His wife's temper was none of the best. Worried, depressed94, hopeless of his future, he in all probability killed his wife in a sudden access of rage, provoked by some taunt95 or reproach on her part, and then, instead of calling in a policeman and telling him what he had done, made clumsy and ineffectual efforts to conceal91 his crime. Medical opinion was divided as to his mental condition. Those doctors called for the prosecution96 could find no trace of insanity97 about him, those called for the defence said that he was suffering from melancholia. The unhappy man would appear hardly to have realised the gravity of his situation. To a friend who visited him in prison he said: "Here's a man who can write Latin, which the Bishop98 of Winchester would commend, shut up in a place like this." Coming from a man who had spent all his life buried in books and knowing little of the world the remark is not so greatly to be wondered at. Profound scholars are apt to be impatient of mundane99 things. Professor Webster showed a similar want of appreciation100 of the circumstances of a person charged with wilful101 murder. Selby Watson was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. The sentence was afterwards commuted102 to one of penal103 servitude for life, the Home Secretary of the day showing by his decision that, though not satisfied of the prisoner's insanity, he recognised certain extenuating circumstances in his guilt.(2)
(2) Selby Watson was tried at the Central Criminal Court January, 1872.
In Castaing much ingenuity104 is shown in the conception of the crime, but the man is weak and timid; he is not the stuff of which the great criminal is made; Holmes is cast in the true mould of the instinctive105 murderer. Castaing is a man of sensibility, capable of domestic affection; Holmes completely insensible to all feelings of humanity. Taking life is a mere106 incident in the accomplishment107 of his schemes; men, women and children are sacrificed with equal mercilessness to the necessary end. A consummate liar11 and hypocrite, he has that strange power of fascination108 over others, women in particular, which is often independent altogether of moral or even physical attractiveness. We are accustomed to look for a certain vastness, grandeur109 of scale in the achievements of America. A study of American crime will show that it does not disappoint us in this expectation. The extent and audacity110 of the crimes of Holmes are proof of it.
To find a counterpart in imaginative literature to the complete criminal of the Holmes type we must turn to the pages of Shakespeare. In the number of his victims, the cruelty and insensibility with which he attains111 his ends, his unblushing hypocrisy, the fascination he can exercise at will over others, the Richard III. of Shakespeare shows how clearly the poet understood the instinctive criminal of real life. The Richard of history was no doubt less instinctively112 and deliberately113 an assassin than the Richard of Shakespeare. In the former we can trace the gradual temptation to crime to which circumstances provoke him. The murder of the Princes, if, as one writer contends, it was not the work of Henry VII.—in which case that monarch19 deserves to be hailed as one of the most consummate criminals that ever breathed and the worthy father of a criminal son—was no doubt forced to a certain extent on Richard by the exigencies114 of his situation, one of those crimes to which bad men are driven in order to secure the fruits of other crimes. But the Richard of Shakespeare is no child of circumstance. He espouses115 deliberately a career of crime, as deliberately as Peace or Holmes or Butler; he sets out "determined to prove a villain," to be "subtle, false and treacherous," to employ to gain his ends "stern murder in the dir'st degree." The character is sometimes criticised as being overdrawn116 and unreal. It may not be true to the Richard of history, but it is very true to crime, and to the historical criminal of the Borgian or Prussian type, in which fraud and violence are made part of a deliberate system of so-called statecraft.
Shakespeare got nearer to what we may term the domestic as opposed to the political criminal when he created Iago. In their envy and dislike of their fellowmen, their contempt for humanity in general, their callousness117 to the ordinary sympathies of human nature, Robert Butler, Lacenaire, Ruloff are witnesses to the poet's fidelity118 to criminal character in his drawing of the Ancient. But there is a weakness in the character of Iago regarded as a purely119 instinctive and malignant120 criminal; indeed it is a weakness in the consistency121 of the play. On two occasions Iago states explicitly122 that Othello is more than suspected of having committed adultery with his wife, Emilia, and that therefore he has a strong and justifiable123 motive for being revenged on the Moor124. The thought of it he describes as "gnawing125 his inwards." Emilia's conversation with Desdemona in the last act lends some colour to the correctness of Iago's belief. If this belief be well-founded it must greatly modify his character as a purely wanton and mischievous126 criminal, a supreme127 villain, and lower correspondingly the character of Othello as an honourable128 and high-minded man. If it be a morbid129 suspicion, having no ground in fact, a mental obsession130, then Iago becomes abnormal and consequently more or less irresponsible. But this suggestion of Emilia's faithlessness made in the early part of the play is never followed up by the dramatist, and the spectator is left in complete uncertainty131 as to whether there be any truth or not in Iago's suspicion. If Othello has played his Ancient false, that is an extenuating circumstance in the otherwise extraordinary guilt of Iago, and would no doubt be accorded to him as such, were he on trial before a French jury.
The most successful, and therefore perhaps the greatest, criminal in Shakespeare is King Claudius of Denmark. His murder of his brother by pouring a deadly poison into his ear while sleeping, is so skilfully132 perpetrated as to leave no suspicion of foul133 play. But for a supernatural intervention134, a contingency135 against which no murderer could be expected to have provided, the crime of Claudius would never have been discovered. Smiling, jovial136, genial as M. Derues or Dr. Palmer, King Claudius might have gone down to his grave in peace as the bluff hearty137 man of action, while his introspective nephew would in all probability have ended his days in the cloister138, regarded with amiable139 contempt by his bustling140 fellowmen. How Claudius got over the great difficulty of all poisoners, that of procuring141 the necessary poison without detection, we are not told; by what means he distilled142 the "juice of cursed hebenon"; how the strange appearance of the late King's body, which "an instant tetter" had barked about with "vile143 and loathsome144 crust," was explained to the multitude we are left to imagine. There is no real evidence to show that Queen Gertrude was her lover's accomplice145 in her husband's murder. If that had been so, she would no doubt have been of considerable assistance to Claudius in the preparation of the crime. But in the absence of more definite proof we must assume Claudius' murder of his brother to have been a solitary146 achievement, skilfully carried out by one whose genial good-fellowship and convivial147 habits gave the lie to any suggestion of criminality. Whatever may have been his inward feelings of remorse148 or self-reproach, Claudius masked them successfully from the eyes of all. Hamlet's instinctive dislike of his uncle was not shared by the members of the Danish court. The "witchcraft149 of his wit," his "traitorous150 gifts," were powerful aids to Claudius, not only in the seduction of his sister-in-law, but the perpetration of secret murder.
The case of the murder of King Duncan of Scotland by Macbeth and his wife belongs to a different class of crime. It is a striking example of dual43 crime, four instances of which are given towards the end of this book. An Italian advocate, Scipio Sighele, has devoted151 a monograph152 to the subject of dual crime, in which he examines a number of cases in which two persons have jointly153 committed heinous154 crimes.(3) He finds that in couples of this kind there is usually an incubus155 and a succubus, the one who suggests the crime, the other on whom the suggestion works until he or she becomes the accomplice or instrument of the stronger will; "the one playing the Mephistophelian part of tempter, preaching evil, urging to crime, the other allowing himself to be overcome by his evil genius." In some cases these two roles are clearly differentiated156; it is easy, as in the case of Iago and Othello, Cassius and Brutus, to say who prompted the crime. In others the guilt seems equally divided and the original suggestion of crime to spring from a mutual157 tendency towards the adoption158 of such an expedient159. In Macbeth and his wife we have a perfect instance of the latter class. No sooner have the witches prophesied160 that Macbeth shall be a king than the "horrid161 image" of the suggestion to murder Duncan presents itself to his mind, and, on returning to his wife, he answers her question as to when Duncan is to leave their house by the significant remark, "To-morrow—as he proposes." To Lady Macbeth from the moment she has received her husband's letter telling of the prophecy of the weird162 sisters, murder occurs as a means of accomplishing their prediction. In the minds of Macbeth and his wife the suggestion of murder is originally an auto-suggestion, coming to them independently of each other as soon as they learn from the witches that Macbeth is one day to be a king. To Banquo a somewhat similar intimation is given, but no foul thought of crime suggests itself for an instant to his loyal nature. What Macbeth and his wife lack at first as thorough-going murderers is that complete insensibility to taking human life that marks the really ruthless assassin. Lady Macbeth has the stronger will of the two for the commission of the deed. It is doubtful whether without her help Macbeth would ever have undertaken it. But even she, when her husband hesitates to strike, cannot bring herself to murder the aged163 Duncan with her own hands because of his resemblance as he sleeps to her father. It is only after a deal of boggling and at serious risk of untimely interruption that the two contrive164 to do the murder, and plaster with blood the "surfeited165 grooms166." In thus putting suspicion on the servants of Duncan the assassins cunningly avert167 suspicion from themselves, and Macbeth's killing168 of the unfortunate men in seeming indignation at the discovery of their crime is a master-stroke of ingenuity. "Who," he asks in a splendid burst of feigned169 horror, "can be wise, amazed, temperate170 and furious, loyal and natural in a moment?" At the same time Lady Macbeth affects to swoon away in the presence of so awful a crime. For the time all suspicion of guilt, except in the mind of Banquo, is averted171 from the real murderers. But, like so many criminals, Macbeth finds it impossible to rest on his first success in crime. His sensibility grows dulled; he "forgets the taste of fear"; the murder of Banquo and his son is diabolically172 planned, and that is soon followed by the outrageous173 slaughter174 of the wife and children of Macduff. Ferri, the Italian writer on crime, describes the psychical175 condition favourable176 to the commission of murder as an absence of both moral repugnance177 to the crime itself and the fear of the consequences following it. In the murder of Duncan, it is the first of these two states of mind to which Macbeth and his wife have only partially178 attained179. The moral repugnance stronger in the man has not been wholly lost by the woman. But as soon as the crime is successfully accomplished180, this repugnance begins to wear off until the King and Queen are able calmly and deliberately to contemplate181 those further crimes necessary to their peace of mind. But now Macbeth, at first the more compunctious of the two, has become the more ruthless; the germ of crime, developed by suggestion, has spread through his whole being; he has begun to acquire that indifference182 to human suffering with which Richard III. and Iago were gifted from the first. In both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth the germ of crime was latent; they wanted only favourable circumstances to convert them into one of those criminal couples who are the more dangerous for the fact that the temptation to crime has come to each spontaneously and grown and been fostered by mutual understanding, an elective affinity183 for evil. Such couples are frequent in the history of crime. Eyraud and Bompard, Mr. and Mrs. Manning, Burke and Hare, the Peltzer brothers, Barre and Lebiez, are instances of those collaborations in crime which find their counterpart in history, literature, drama and business. Antoninus and Aurelius, Ferdinand and Isabella, the De Goncourt brothers, Besant and Rice, Gilbert and Sullivan, Swan and Edgar leap to the memory.
(3) "Le Crime a Deux," by Scipio Sighele (translated from the Italian),
Lyons, 1893.
In the cases of Eyraud and Bompard, both man and woman are idle, vicious criminals by instinct. They come together, lead an abandoned life, sinking lower and lower in moral degradation184. In the hour of need, crime presents itself as a simple expedient for which neither of them has any natural aversion. The repugnance to evil, if they ever felt it, has long since disappeared from their natures. The man is serious, the woman frivolous185, but the criminal tendency in both cases is the same; each performs his or her part in the crime with characteristic aptitude186. Mrs. Manning was a creature of much firmer character than her husband, a woman of strong passions, a redoubtable187 murderess. Without her dominating force Manning might never have committed murder. But he was a criminal before the crime, more than suspected as a railway official of complicity in a considerable train robbery; in his case the suggestion of murder involved only the taking of a step farther in a criminal career. Manning suffered from nerves almost as badly as Macbeth; after the deed he sought to drown the prickings of terror and remorse by heavy drinking Mrs. Manning was never troubled with any feelings of this kind; after the murder of O'Connor the gratification of her sexual passion seemed uppermost in her mind; and she met the consequences of her crime fearlessly. Burke and Hare were a couple of ruffians, tempted188 by what must have seemed almost fabulous189 wealth to men of their wretched poverty to commit a series of cruel murders. Hare, with his queer, Mephistophelian countenance190, was the wickeder of the two. Burke became haunted as time went on and flew to drink to banish191 horror, but Hare would seem to have been free from such "compunctious visitings of Nature." He kept his head and turned King's evidence.
In the case of the Peltzer brothers we have a man who is of good social position, falling desperately192 in love with the wife of a successful barrister. The wife, though unhappy in her domestic life, refuses to become her lover's mistress; marriage is the only way to secure her. So Armand Peltzer plots to murder the husband. For this purpose he calls in the help of a brother, a ne'er-do-well, who has left his native country under a cloud. He sends for this dubious193 person to Europe, and there between them they plan the murder of the inconvenient husband. Though the idea of the crime comes from the one brother, the other receives the idea without repugnance and enters wholeheartedly into the commission of the murder. The ascendency of the one is evident, but he knows his man, is sure that he will have no difficulty in securing the other's co-operation in his felonious purpose. Armand Peltzer should have lived in the Italy of the Renaissance194.
The crime was cunningly devised, and methodically and successfully accomplished. Only an over-anxiety to secure the fruits of it led to its detection. Barre and Lebiez are a perfect criminal couple, both young men of good education, trained to better things, but the one idle, greedy and vicious, the other cynical195, indifferent, inclined at best to a lazy sentimentalism. Barre is a needy197 stockbroker198 at the end of his tether, desperate to find an expedient for raising the wind, Lebiez a medical student who writes morbid verses to a skull199 and lectures on Darwinism. To Barre belongs the original suggestion to murder an old woman who sells milk and is reputed to have savings200. But his friend and former schoolfellow, Lebiez, accepts the suggestion placidly201, and reconciles himself to the murder of an unnecessary old woman by the same argument as that used by Raskolnikoff in "Crime and Punishment" to justify the killing of his victim.
In all the cases here quoted the couples are essentially202 criminal couples. From whichever of the two comes the first suggestion of crime, it falls on soil already prepared to receive it; the response to the suggestion is immediate203. In degree of guilt there is little or nothing to choose between them. But the more interesting instances of dual crime are those in which one innocent hitherto of crime, to whom it is morally repugnant, is persuaded by another to the commission of a criminal act, as Cassius persuades Brutus; Iago, Othello. Cassius is a criminal by instinct. Placed in a social position which removes him from the temptation to ordinary crime, circumstances combine in his case to bring out the criminal tendency and give it free play in the projected murder of Caesar. Sour, envious204, unscrupulous, the suggestion to kill Caesar under the guise205 of the public weal is in reality a gratification to Cassius of his own ignoble206 instincts, and the deliberate unscrupulousness with which he seeks to corrupt207 the honourable metal, seduce208 the noble mind of his friend, is typical of the man's innate209 dishonesty. Cassius belongs to that particular type of the envious nature which Shakespeare is fond of exemplifying with more or less degree of villainy in such characters as Iago, Edmund, and Don John, of which Robert Butler, whose career is given in this book, is a living instance. Cassius on public grounds tempts56 Brutus to crime as subtly as on private grounds Iago tempts Othello, and with something of the same malicious210 satisfaction; the soliloquy of Cassius at the end of the second scene of the first act is that of a bad man and a false friend. Indeed, the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius after the murder of Caesar loses much of its sincerity211 and pathos212 unless we can forget for the moment the real character of Cassius. But the interest in the cases of Cassius and Brutus, Iago and Othello, lies not so much in the nature of the prompter of the crime. The instances in which an honest, honourable man is by force of another's suggestion converted into a criminal are psychologically remarkable. It is to be expected that we should look in the annals of real crime for confirmation213 of the truth to life of stories such as these, told in fiction or drama.
The strongest influence, under which the naturally non-criminal person may be tempted in violation214 of instinct and better nature to the commission of a crime, is that of love or passion. Examples of this kind are frequent in the annals of crime. There is none more striking than that of the Widow Gras and Natalis Gaudry. Here a man, brave, honest, of hitherto irreproachable character, is tempted by a woman to commit the most cruel and infamous215 of crimes. At first he repels216 the suggestion; at last, when his senses have been excited, his passion inflamed217 by the cunning of the woman, as the jealous passion of Othello is played on and excited by Iago, the patriotism218 of Brutus artfully exploited by Cassius, he yields to the repeated solicitation219 and does a deed in every way repugnant to his normal character. Nothing seems so blinding in its effect on the moral sense as passion. It obscures all sense of humour, proportion, congruity220; the murder of the man or woman who stands in the way of its full enjoyment221 becomes an act of inverted222 justice to the perpetrators; they reconcile themselves to it by the most perverse reasoning until they come to regard it as an act, in which they may justifiably223 invoke224 the help of God; eroticism and religion are often jumbled225 up together in this strange medley226 of conflicting emotions.
A woman, urging her lover to the murder of her husband, writes of the roses that are to deck the path of the lovers as soon as the crime is accomplished; she sends him flowers and in the same letter asks if he has got the necessary cartridges227. Her husband has been ill; she hopes that it is God helping228 them to the desired end; she burns a candle on the altar of a saint for the success of their murderous plan.(4) A jealous husband setting out to kill his wife carries in his pockets, beside a knife and a service revolver, a rosary, a medal of the Virgin229 and a holy image.(5) Marie Boyer in the blindness of her passion and jealousy230 believes God to be helping her to get rid of her mother.
(4) Case of Garnier and the woman Aveline, 1884.
(5) Case of the Comte
de Cornulier: "Un An de Justice," Henri Varennes, 1901.
A lover persuades the wife to get rid of her husband. For a whole year he instils231 the poison into her soul until she can struggle no longer against the obsession; he offers to do the deed, but she writes that she would rather suffer all the risks and consequences herself. "How many times," she writes, "have I wished to go away, leave home, but it meant leaving my children, losing them for ever.. that made my lover jealous, he believed that I could not bring myself to leave my husband. But if my husband were out of the way then I would keep my children, and my lover would see in my crime a striking proof of my devotion." A curious farrago of slavish passion, motherly love and murder.(6)
(6) Case of Madame Weiss and the engineer Roques. If I may be permitted
the reference, there is an account of this case and that of Barre and
Lebiez in my book "French Criminals of the Nineteenth Century."
There are some women such as Marie Boyer and Gabrielle Fenayrou, who may be described as passively criminal, chameleon-like, taking colour from their surroundings. By the force of a man's influence they commit a dreadful crime, in the one instance it is matricide, in the other the murder of a former lover, but neither of the women is profoundly vicious or criminal in her instincts. In prison they become exemplary, their crime a thing of the past.
Gabrielle Fenayrou during her imprisonment232, having won the confidence of the religious sisters in charge of the convicts, is appointed head of one of the workshops. Marie Boyer is so contrite233, exemplary in her behaviour that she is released after fifteen years' imprisonment. In some ways, perhaps, these malleable234 types of women, "soft paste" as one authority has described them, "effacees" in the words of another, are the most dangerous material of all for the commission of crime, their obedience235 is so complete, so cold and relentless.
There are cases into which no element of passion enters, in which one will stronger than the other can so influence, so dominate the weaker as to persuade the individual against his or her better inclination236 to an act of crime, just as in the relations of ordinary life we see a man or woman led and controlled for good or ill by one stronger than themselves. There is no more extraordinary instance of this than the case of Catherine Hayes, immortalised by Thackeray, which occurred as long ago as the year 1726. This singular woman by her artful insinuations, by representing her husband as an atheist237 and a murderer, persuaded a young man of the name of Wood, of hitherto exemplary character, to assist her in murdering him. It was unquestionably the sinister238 influence of Captain Cranstoun that later in the same century persuaded the respectable Miss Mary Blandy to the murder of her father. The assassin of an old woman in Paris recounts thus the arguments used by his mistress to induce him to commit the crime: "She began by telling me about the money and jewellery in the old woman's possession which could no longer be of any use to her"—the argument of Raskolnikoff—"I resisted, but next day she began again, pointing out that one killed people in war, which was not considered a crime, and therefore one should not be afraid to kill a miserable239 old woman. I urged that the old woman had done us no harm, and that I did not see why one should kill her; she reproached me for my weakness and said that, had she been strong enough, she would soon have done this abominable240 deed herself. 'God,' she added, 'will forgive us because He knows how poor we are.'" When he came to do the murder, this determined woman plied5 her lover with brandy and put rouge241 on his cheeks lest his pallor should betray him.(7)
(7) Case of Albert and the woman Lavoitte, Paris, 1877.
There are occasions when those feelings of compunction which troubled Macbeth and his wife are wellnigh proof against the utmost powers of suggestion, or, as in the case of Hubert and Prince Arthur, compel the criminal to desist from his enterprise.
A man desires to get rid of his father and mother-in-law. By means of threats, reproaches and inducements he persuades another man to commit the crime. Taking a gun, the latter sets out to do the deed; but he realises the heinousness242 of it and turns back. "The next day," he says, "at four o'clock in the morning I started again. I passed the village church. At the sight of the place where I had celebrated243 my first communion I was filled with remorse. I knelt down and prayed to God to make me good. But some unknown force urged me to the crime. I started again—ten times I turned back, but the more I hesitated the stronger was the desire to go on." At length the faltering244 assassin arrived at the house, and in his painful anxiety of mind shot a servant instead of the intended victims.(8)
(8) Case of Porcher and Hardouin cited in Despine. "Psychologie
Naturelle."
In a town in Austria there dwelt a happy and contented245 married couple, poor and hard-working. A charming young lady, a rich relation and an orphan246, comes to live with them. She brings to their modest home wealth and comfort. But as time goes on, it is likely that the young lady will fall in love and marry. What then? Her hosts will have to return to their original poverty. The idea of how to secure to himself the advantages of his young kinswoman's fortune takes possession of the husband's mind. He revolves247 all manner of means, and gradually murder presents itself as the only way. The horrid suggestion fixes itself in his mind, and at last he communicates it to his wife. At first she resists, then yields to the temptation. The plan is ingenious. The wife is to disappear to America and be given out as dead. The husband will then marry his attractive kinswoman, persuade her to make a will in his favour, poison her and, the fortune secured, rejoin his wife. As if to help this cruel plan, the young lady has developed a sentimental196 affection for her relative. The wife goes to America, the husband marries the young lady. He commences to poison her, but, in the presence of her youth, beauty and affection for him, relents, hesitates to commit a possibly unnecessary crime. He decides to forget and ignore utterly248 his wife who is waiting patiently in America. A year passes. The expectant wife gets no sign of her husband's existence. She comes back to Europe, visits under a false name the town in which her faithless husband and his bride are living, discovers the truth and divulges249 the intended crime to the authorities. A sentence of penal servitude for life rewards this perfidious250 criminal.(9)
(9) Case of the Scheffer couple at Linz, cited by Sighele.
Derues said to a man who was looking at a picture in the Palais de Justice: "Why study copies of Nature when you can look at such a remarkable original as I?" A judge once told the present writer that he did not go often to the theatre because none of the dramas which he saw on the stage, seemed to him equal in intensity251 to those of real life which came before him in the course of his duties. The saying that truth is stranger than fiction applies more forcibly to crime than to anything else. But the ordinary man and woman prefer to take their crime romanticised, as it is administered to them in novel or play. The true stories told in this book represent the raw material from which works of art have been and may be yet created. The murder of Mr. Arden of Faversham inspired an Elizabethan tragedy attributed by some critics to Shakespeare. The Peltzer trial helped to inspire Paul Bourget's remarkable novel, "Andre Cornelis." To Italian crime we owe Shelley's "Cenci" and Browning's "The Ring and the Book." Mrs. Manning was the original of the maid Hortense in "Bleak252 House." Jonathan Wild, Eugene Aram, Deacon Brodie, Thomas Griffiths Wainewright have all been made the heroes of books or plays of varying merit. But it is not only in its stories that crime has served to inspire romance. In the investigation of crime, especially on the broader lines of Continental253 procedure, we can track to the source the springs of conduct and character, and come near to solving as far as is humanly possible the mystery of human motive. There is always and must be in every crime a terra incognita which, unless we could enter into the very soul of a man, we cannot hope to reach. Thus far may we go, no farther. It is rarely indeed that a man lays bare his whole soul, and even when he does we can never be quite sure that he is telling us all the truth, that he is not keeping back some vital secret. It is no doubt better so, and that it should be left to the writer of imagination to picture for us a man's inmost soul. The study of crime will help him to that end. It will help us also in the ethical254 appreciation of good and evil in individual conduct, about which our notions have been somewhat obscured by too narrow a definition of what constitutes crime. These themes, touched on but lightly and imperfectly in these pages, are rich in human interest.
And so it is hardly a matter for surprise that the poet and the philosopher sat up late one night talking about murders.
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1 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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2 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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3 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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4 engrossed | |
adj.全神贯注的 | |
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5 plied | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的过去式和过去分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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6 residue | |
n.残余,剩余,残渣 | |
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7 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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8 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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9 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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10 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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11 liar | |
n.说谎的人 | |
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12 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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13 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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14 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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15 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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16 rev | |
v.发动机旋转,加快速度 | |
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17 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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18 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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19 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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20 monarchs | |
君主,帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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21 conquerors | |
征服者,占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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22 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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23 rascals | |
流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
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24 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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25 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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26 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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27 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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28 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
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29 perversion | |
n.曲解;堕落;反常 | |
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30 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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31 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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32 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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33 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
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34 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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35 imprisoned | |
下狱,监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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37 replete | |
adj.饱满的,塞满的;n.贮蜜蚁 | |
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38 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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39 abhorrence | |
n.憎恶;可憎恶的事 | |
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40 inconvenient | |
adj.不方便的,令人感到麻烦的 | |
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41 dangled | |
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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42 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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43 dual | |
adj.双的;二重的,二元的 | |
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44 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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45 squander | |
v.浪费,挥霍 | |
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46 extenuating | |
adj.使减轻的,情有可原的v.(用偏袒的辩解或借口)减轻( extenuate的现在分词 );低估,藐视 | |
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47 wrecking | |
破坏 | |
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48 pedant | |
n.迂儒;卖弄学问的人 | |
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49 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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50 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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51 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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52 clandestinely | |
adv.秘密地,暗中地 | |
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53 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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54 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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55 impudent | |
adj.鲁莽的,卑鄙的,厚颜无耻的 | |
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56 tempts | |
v.引诱或怂恿(某人)干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 );使想要 | |
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57 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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58 hypocrisy | |
n.伪善,虚伪 | |
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59 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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60 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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61 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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62 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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63 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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64 importunate | |
adj.强求的;纠缠不休的 | |
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65 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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66 creditor | |
n.债仅人,债主,贷方 | |
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67 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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68 entailed | |
使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 ); 需要; 限定继承; 使必需 | |
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69 gust | |
n.阵风,突然一阵(雨、烟等),(感情的)迸发 | |
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70 acrimonious | |
adj.严厉的,辛辣的,刻毒的 | |
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71 debtor | |
n.借方,债务人 | |
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72 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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73 contradictory | |
adj.反驳的,反对的,抗辩的;n.正反对,矛盾对立 | |
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74 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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75 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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76 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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77 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
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78 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
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79 belongings | |
n.私人物品,私人财物 | |
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80 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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81 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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82 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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83 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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84 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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85 irreproachable | |
adj.不可指责的,无过失的 | |
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86 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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87 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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88 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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89 painstaking | |
adj.苦干的;艰苦的,费力的,刻苦的 | |
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90 exterior | |
adj.外部的,外在的;表面的 | |
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91 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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92 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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93 diligently | |
ad.industriously;carefully | |
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94 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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95 taunt | |
n.辱骂,嘲弄;v.嘲弄 | |
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96 prosecution | |
n.起诉,告发,检举,执行,经营 | |
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97 insanity | |
n.疯狂,精神错乱;极端的愚蠢,荒唐 | |
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98 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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99 mundane | |
adj.平凡的;尘世的;宇宙的 | |
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100 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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101 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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102 commuted | |
通勤( commute的过去式和过去分词 ); 减(刑); 代偿 | |
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103 penal | |
adj.刑罚的;刑法上的 | |
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104 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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105 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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106 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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107 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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108 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
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109 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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110 audacity | |
n.大胆,卤莽,无礼 | |
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111 attains | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的第三人称单数 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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112 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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113 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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114 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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115 espouses | |
v.(决定)支持,拥护(目标、主张等)( espouse的第三人称单数 ) | |
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116 overdrawn | |
透支( overdraw的过去分词 ); (overdraw的过去分词) | |
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117 callousness | |
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118 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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119 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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120 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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121 consistency | |
n.一贯性,前后一致,稳定性;(液体的)浓度 | |
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122 explicitly | |
ad.明确地,显然地 | |
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123 justifiable | |
adj.有理由的,无可非议的 | |
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124 moor | |
n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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125 gnawing | |
a.痛苦的,折磨人的 | |
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126 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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127 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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128 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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129 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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130 obsession | |
n.困扰,无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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131 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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132 skilfully | |
adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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133 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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134 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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135 contingency | |
n.意外事件,可能性 | |
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136 jovial | |
adj.快乐的,好交际的 | |
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137 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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138 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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139 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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140 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
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141 procuring | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的现在分词 );拉皮条 | |
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142 distilled | |
adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 );从…提取精华 | |
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143 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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144 loathsome | |
adj.讨厌的,令人厌恶的 | |
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145 accomplice | |
n.从犯,帮凶,同谋 | |
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146 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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147 convivial | |
adj.狂欢的,欢乐的 | |
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148 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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149 witchcraft | |
n.魔法,巫术 | |
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150 traitorous | |
adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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151 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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152 monograph | |
n.专题文章,专题著作 | |
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153 jointly | |
ad.联合地,共同地 | |
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154 heinous | |
adj.可憎的,十恶不赦的 | |
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155 incubus | |
n.负担;恶梦 | |
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156 differentiated | |
区分,区别,辨别( differentiate的过去式和过去分词 ); 区别对待; 表明…间的差别,构成…间差别的特征 | |
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157 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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158 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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159 expedient | |
adj.有用的,有利的;n.紧急的办法,权宜之计 | |
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160 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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162 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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163 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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164 contrive | |
vt.谋划,策划;设法做到;设计,想出 | |
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165 surfeited | |
v.吃得过多( surfeit的过去式和过去分词 );由于过量而厌腻 | |
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166 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 | |
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167 avert | |
v.防止,避免;转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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168 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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169 feigned | |
a.假装的,不真诚的 | |
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170 temperate | |
adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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171 averted | |
防止,避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 ); 转移 | |
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172 diabolically | |
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173 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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174 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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175 psychical | |
adj.有关特异功能现象的;有关特异功能官能的;灵魂的;心灵的 | |
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176 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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177 repugnance | |
n.嫌恶 | |
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178 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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179 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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180 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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181 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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182 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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183 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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184 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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185 frivolous | |
adj.轻薄的;轻率的 | |
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186 aptitude | |
n.(学习方面的)才能,资质,天资 | |
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187 redoubtable | |
adj.可敬的;可怕的 | |
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188 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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189 fabulous | |
adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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190 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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191 banish | |
vt.放逐,驱逐;消除,排除 | |
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192 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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193 dubious | |
adj.怀疑的,无把握的;有问题的,靠不住的 | |
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194 renaissance | |
n.复活,复兴,文艺复兴 | |
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195 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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196 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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197 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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198 stockbroker | |
n.股票(或证券),经纪人(或机构) | |
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199 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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200 savings | |
n.存款,储蓄 | |
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201 placidly | |
adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
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202 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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203 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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204 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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205 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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206 ignoble | |
adj.不光彩的,卑鄙的;可耻的 | |
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207 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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208 seduce | |
vt.勾引,诱奸,诱惑,引诱 | |
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209 innate | |
adj.天生的,固有的,天赋的 | |
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210 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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211 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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212 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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213 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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214 violation | |
n.违反(行为),违背(行为),侵犯 | |
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215 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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216 repels | |
v.击退( repel的第三人称单数 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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217 inflamed | |
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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218 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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219 solicitation | |
n.诱惑;揽货;恳切地要求;游说 | |
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220 congruity | |
n.全等,一致 | |
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221 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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222 inverted | |
adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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223 justifiably | |
adv.无可非议地 | |
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224 invoke | |
v.求助于(神、法律);恳求,乞求 | |
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225 jumbled | |
adj.混乱的;杂乱的 | |
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226 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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227 cartridges | |
子弹( cartridge的名词复数 ); (打印机的)墨盒; 录音带盒; (唱机的)唱头 | |
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228 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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229 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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230 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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231 instils | |
v.逐渐使某人获得(某种可取的品质),逐步灌输( instil的第三人称单数 ) | |
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232 imprisonment | |
n.关押,监禁,坐牢 | |
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233 contrite | |
adj.悔悟了的,后悔的,痛悔的 | |
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234 malleable | |
adj.(金属)可锻的;有延展性的;(性格)可训练的 | |
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235 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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236 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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237 atheist | |
n.无神论者 | |
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238 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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239 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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240 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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241 rouge | |
n.胭脂,口红唇膏;v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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242 heinousness | |
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243 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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244 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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245 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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246 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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247 revolves | |
v.(使)旋转( revolve的第三人称单数 );细想 | |
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248 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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249 divulges | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的第三人称单数 ) | |
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250 perfidious | |
adj.不忠的,背信弃义的 | |
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251 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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252 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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253 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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254 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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