"It would fill a volume to recount her good deeds," says her biographer, and he goes on to tell how she lived a life of prayer and simplicity3, being a member of no leas than five religious houses; how she herself waited on the poor, the sick, the dying, and how she freely gave of her wealth for the encouragement of learning. "Her ears were spent in hearing the word of God, her tongue was occupied in prayer, her feet in visiting holy places, her hands in giving alms." She provided an almshouse for poor women near Westminster Abbey, and another at Hatfield, and besides founding schools and colleges, she maintained many poor scholars at her own expense. She also translated many works in the English tongue. It was in Westminster that she desired to be buried, and she made many gifts to the place which her son was so richly beautifying, stipulating4 in return that prayers should always be said here for herself and all her family. She was destined5 to outlive son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, and it was not till 1509 that her useful life of close on three-score years and ten came to an end, and she passed peacefully away, "the almoner of God, the friend of the poor, the supporter of true religion, the patroness of learning, the comforter of the sorrowing, the beloved of all." As you stand by her monument in the south aisle6 of Henry VII.'s Chapel, look at her strong, noble face, beautiful in its calm old age, her hands clasped in prayer as was their wont7; and while you are lost in wonder at the skill of the sculptor8, probably Torrigiano, I think you will realise something of the goodness and purity of Margaret Richmond, which this sleeping figure makes so vivid, and will understand how "every one that knew her loved her, for everything she said or did became her." It was well for her that she did not live long enough to see her clever imperious grandson seeking to destroy so many of the things which she had loved and guarded.
Henry VIII. came to the throne with splendid opportunities. He was gifted far above the average: his manners were genial9 and taking; he could talk many languages; he was devoted10 to sport, a good musician, an admirable wrestler11; fond of amusement, but fond also of more serious things; and the people were prepared to love their King Hal, for he was in every way a contrast to his father, who had never won their affections. Henry was a strong man, who resolved to be no puppet in the hands of any party or minister. Yet it was his will which ruined his character, for it was a will entirely12 bent13 on gaining its own ends, unchecked by any sense of duty, untouched by any appeal to high or noble motives14. What he desired he must have, and all that stood in his way must be swept aside: he would spare no one who thwarted15 him; nothing weighed in the balance against the gratification of his own whims16 and fancies.
You will remember that he was not the eldest17 son of Henry VII. His brother Arthur, Prince of Wales, had died in 1501, a few months after he had married Katherine, the Infanta of Spain, and chiefly because the idea was at first strongly opposed, Henry made up his mind to marry his widowed sister-in-law. When he came to the throne, he at once carried out his will in this matter, and brushed aside all the objections that were raised on account of the close relationship existing between the two. The marriage took place at Greenwich, and the double coronation followed at Westminster on Midsummer Day in the year 1509, "amid all the rejoicings in the world." Katherine made a beautiful queen, dressed in white with cloth of gold, her long hair hanging down to her feet, and little dreamt any of those who cheered her on her way of all that was to spring out of that marriage, for Henry seemed to be the most devoted of husbands. In 1511 their son was born, and had such an elaborate christening that he took a cold from which he never recovered. "His soul returned to among the Holy Innocents of God," says a Westminster manuscript, and we are told how "the queen made much lamentation19, but by the king's persuasion20 she was at last comforted." The baby prince was certainly buried in the Abbey, though exactly where is unknown. But his death, unimportant as it must have seemed at the moment to those who took part in the funeral, had in reality a deep significance. Henry was incapable21 of loving any one for long, and as he began to grow weary of Katherine, he made it a grievance22 that her other child was a daughter and not a son. Furthermore, he argued to himself that he had done wrong in marrying his brother's widow, so that the death of his son was the sign of God's wrath23, and then he began to devise how he could dissolve his marriage with her, to wed18 instead her fascinating maid of honour, Anne Boleyn. Only the Pope could grant him the divorce that he desired, and accordingly Henry sent his all-powerful favourite, Wolsey, to Rome to get this consent. But the Pope, much as he feared Henry, feared the Emperor Charles V., the nephew of Queen Katherine, much more, and Wolsey, on his side, was anxious not to offend the Pope, as his ambition was to succeed him, so it all ended in his going back to Henry without having the desired permission. Henry was furious, and Wolsey, disgraced, died broken-hearted. The king's next step was to defy the Pope, and to send round to all the ministers in Europe, asking them whether in their opinion his marriage with Katherine had been a legal one. But their answer in almost every case was the opposite answer to what Henry had determined24 on, and their opposition25 only increased his determination, till at last, urged thereto by Thomas Cromwell, Wolsey's successor in his favour, he took the bold step of declaring that he himself was the head of the Church in England, the defender26 of the faith, and that therefore the Pope had no power to forbid the divorce. He was clever enough to know that for many a long day the independent spirit of the English nation had rebelled against the power of the Pope in the land; that the revival27 of learning had set men thinking for themselves; that the teaching of Luther and the other reformers had prepared the way for a great change in England, and that he could count on his Parliament to support him in declaring himself supreme28 head of the Church in this land. Thus whilst pretending to cleanse29 and purify the Church, and reform the many errors which had crept in, Henry really was true to his general policy of sweeping30 out of the way any obstacle to his wishes. The Pope had opposed him, so from henceforward he would deprive the Pope of all authority in England. He divorced Katherine, and married Anne Boleyn, while those few men who refused to go against their conscience by declaring the king to be in the right on this question of his marriage, when they felt him to be in the wrong, did so at the cost of their lives.
But the king had not yet finished with the Pope; urged thereto by Cromwell, who earned for himself the name "The Hammer of the Monks31," he proceeded to attack all the monasteries32 and religious houses in England, and there were many hundreds of them, which were under the immediate33 jurisdiction34 of Rome. To these religious houses England owed no small debt of gratitude35: the monks had been teachers, scholars, chroniclers, architects, carvers, painters, translators, and illuminators; they had nursed the sick, they had relieved the needy36; they had been the great employers of labour, the tillers of the soil, and, untouched by the ebb37 and flow of the tide outside, they had gone quietly on with their daily round of work and prayer, keeping their lights ever burning before the altar to signify that their house was "always watchynge to God." But, as they became rich and powerful, they fell away from their high ideals; the threefold vow38 of poverty, obedience39, and purity ceased to sanctify their lives; luxury took the place of plain, frugal40 living; the monks no longer laboured with their own hands, but kept great retinues41 of servants, and the money that should have been spent for the glory of God and the church was squandered42 in extravagant43 living. The abbots were under no control save that of Rome, and Rome was far away, so that there was no power from outside to correct, to reform, and to purify. Gradually, too, the monasteries had lost their hold over the people; resting on their past, they made no effort to keep pace with the present; they bitterly opposed any education save that which they held in their own hands; they resented progress and enlightenment; they were no longer centres of light and learning; their fire had burnt out, quenched44 by covetousness45, by wrong-doing and by luxurious46 living.
Cromwell saw in them an opportunity which Henry was all too ready to grasp. A Commission was formed to visit and report on the universities and all religious houses; and when the visitors had finished their work, which they had done carefully and thoroughly47, they laid their verdict before the House of Commons in the famous Black Book, which was destroyed some years later by order of Queen Mary. Much of what it contained is therefore lost to us, but as the Commons, who sat, remember, in the Chapter-Room at Westminster, heard clause after clause read out, which told, with a few honourable48 exceptions, a terrible story against the monasteries, they could not restrain themselves, and over and over again shouts of "Down with the monks" rang through the vaulted49 building. Generally speaking, the largest of the monasteries had come well out of the inquiry50, and Parliament therefore began by only dissolving the smaller houses, at the same time ordering that the lands and incomes of these latter should be handed over to the king, as head of the Church, to be spent in the "high and true interests of religion." Certainly the Commons had none but high motives in passing this Act, and never dreamt of a general dissolution, or the appropriation51 of all that immense wealth for anything but religious or educational purposes. They had not realised Henry's greed, "which no religion could moderate, or the force of his will, against which nothing, however sacred, seemed able to stand."
The monks at Westminster naturally heard very quickly all the particulars of the deliberations which had taken place inside the Chapter-Room. How they must have lingered about the cloisters53 that day; how eagerly and excitedly must they have talked during those hours when talking was allowed, wondering in what way all these things would end; how they must have speculated as to their own future, and that of the few other large monasteries in which the Commissioners54 had declared that "thanks be to God, religion had been right well kept and observed." They had not long to wait.
A general order issued shortly afterwards, ordering the removal of all shrines56, images, and relics57, made it clear that Henry and his ministers had other ideas beyond the reformation of religious houses; and the monks, who gauged58 the character of the king, hastily moved the body of St. Edward to some sacred spot, that, at least, this holy possession of the Abbey might not be lost to it. They managed, too, to hide some of the treasures which beautified Edward's shrine55, but much of the gold and many of the jewels became the property of the king. Altogether nearly 800 monasteries fell into the hands of Henry, and without any compunction he appropriated their lands and their wealth, giving away to his favourites of the moment what he did not desire to keep for himself. Inside the religious houses the greatest excitement prevailed, and much diversity of opinion; for some there were among the abbots and monks who were prepared to lose their lives rather than willingly surrender themselves to the king's will, while others, more the children of this world than the children of light, deemed that by submission59 could they best hope to save something in this overwhelming deluge60.
At Westminster, under Abbot Benson, the monks chose a prudent61 course, the abbot being one, as an old writer severely62 remarks, "whose conscience was not likely to stand in his way on any occasion," and in the January of 1540 the Abbey with all its wealth was voluntarily handed over to the king.
Partly perhaps on account of this absolute submission, but much more because even Henry had still reverence for a place which was peculiarly royal in all its associations, Westminster was in some degree saved. The old order indeed was destined to pass away; its wealth was to be a thing of the past, save for the wealth of beauty in sculptured stone which could not easily be taken from it, and which still remained unrivalled even when all the gold and jewels and plate excepting a silver pot, two gilt63 cups, three hearse clothes, twelve cushions and some other clothes, had been carried away to satisfy greedy courtiers, "leaving the place very bare."
But Henry converted the building into a cathedral, giving it a bishop64, a dean, prebendaries, minor65 canons, all these offices with the exception of the Bishopric being filled by the monks belonging to the establishment. The Bishop, Thirleby, was ordered to make the abbot's house his palace; Abbot Benson, now Dean, took up his residence in humble66 quarters, and all the old glory of the monastery67 departed for ever, while Henry was quite £60,000 a year richer in our money. Those of the monks for whom no place could be found under the new system were pensioned off, and many of the buildings, such as the refectory and the smaller dormitory, no longer needed for the cowled figures who for so many generations had used them, were pulled down or put to fresh uses.
Nor was the monastery the only part of Westminster which fell from its greatness. Earlier in the reign68 of Henry a fire had destroyed much of the old Palace, and the king, who cared but little for it, set his heart on York House close by, at Whitehall, once the London house of the Bishops69 of York, afterwards the residence of Wolsey.
The Cardinal70 lived in state; indeed Westminster was but a humble dwelling71 compared to this magnificent palace, and on his disgrace, Henry took possession of it. For more than a hundred and fifty years it was the royal palace, with fine courts, halls and chambers72, its own chapel and offices, its bowling-green, tent yard, cock-pit, and tennis courts, and meanwhile the gabled, sculptured Westminster Palace, the home of Saxon, Norman, and Plantagenet kings, fell to pieces. For us, both are now but phantom74 palaces, with hardly a trace of either remaining to recall the glories of the past.
But in the story of the Abbey, this change from Westminster to Whitehall had more than a passing effect; from henceforth the old intimate association between the Palace and Abbey ceased to exist, and Henry thus broke one more link with the traditions of his ancestors. Not even the chapel of his father, now no longer called the Lady Chapel, but instead St. Saviour's Chapel, had any attractions for one in whose nature reverent75 affection for old associations was entirely absent, and at his own desire, Henry was buried at Windsor, by his "true and loving wife, Jane Seymour," who had kept in his good graces by giving him a son, and then dying before he had time to grow weary of her. Of all his wives, only the plain and placid76 Anne of Cleves was buried in the Abbey, on the south side of the Altar, and "she had but half a monument," says Fuller, though her funeral was an elaborate one, by order of Mary, who was then queen.
King Edward VI., just ten years old, succeeded his father; and the members of his council, especially his uncle, the Duke of Somerset, strongly in favour of the Reformed Church, were determined that the Pope should not win back any of his old authority. In this, all the thinking people were of their opinion, but some of the poor people, who had formerly77 received much in charity from the monks, were very bitter, and there was more than one rebellion in favour of the monasteries. However, these were put down, and the reformers went on with their work. Edward was crowned as Head of the Church in England, and, for the first time, a Bible, translated into the English tongue, was set in his hands at the coronation service. For only within the last ten years had the Bible been read to the people in a language they could understand, and you will remember how first Wycliffe, and then Tyndale, had failed in their attempts to place this book in the hands of all, that all might read and learn of God's teachings, by the light of the understanding which God had given them. Two years after the coronation a Prayer-Book was published, also in English, not exactly the same Prayer-Book as we use now, for as time went on the spirit of the people changed in favour of a still simpler service than that which found favour with the early reformers in England, and in the reign of Charles II. a revised Prayer-Book was issued, as in the reign of James I. our present translation of the Bible was authorised. But it was in Edward's reign that an English Bible and Prayer-Book first found their way into the Abbey.
The plan of having a Bishop at Westminster does not seem to have succeeded. Thirleby was removed to Norwich, and Richard Cox became the Dean. But he remained in the simple quarters, near the Little Cloister52, which had been assigned to Dean Boston, and the Abbot's house passed into the possession of a layman78 for the time being. Protector Somerset had certainly no feeling of veneration79 for the grand old pile of buildings. Not only did he put the Abbey under the Bishop of London, and insist on cart-loads of stone, which once had formed part of the solid monastery buildings, being used for his own palace, Somerset House, but of the few lands which still remained to the Abbey, he took some and made them over to St. Paul's, from time immemorial the rival of Westminster. You have often heard the saying "robbing Peter to pay Paul;" now you know its origin. And as if to cut off every possible association with the past, the House of Commons moved from the Chapter House to St. Stephen's Chapel, part of the old Westminster Palace, and there met until the great fire in 1834, after which the present Houses of Parliament were built.
But with the death of Edward, who had reigned80 seven years, and the defeat of the Protestant party, who had tried to set Lady Jane Grey on the throne, there came a flicker81 of prosperity to the Abbey, a dim reflection, as it were, of its bygone greatness. For Queen Mary was a devout82 Roman Catholic, and so soon as it lay in her power, she dissolved the chapter or cathedral body, restored the monastery, and gave the post of Abbot to Fakenham, who was "a person of learning, good-natured, and very charitable to the poor."
Edward was buried at Westminster, close to his grandfather, Henry VII., and underneath83 the altar of Torrigiano, of which I have already told you, so that the last Roman Catholic and the first really Protestant king of England lay side by side, under the same exquisite84 roof, a striking commentary on the fact that the Reformation was not a complete wrench85 with the past, but a transition from old to new according to the unchangeable law of progress.
Mary was crowned on October 10, and on the coronation morning she journeyed in the royal barge86 from Whitehall to the private waterstairs of old Westminster Palace, and from thence went into the Parliament chamber73, where she robed. Blue cloth covered the ground all the way from Westminster Hall to the choir87 in the Abbey, but here the altar blazed with cloth of gold, and rich covers hung all around, while the floor was strewn with fresh rushes, a quaint88 contrast to everything else. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York and the Bishop of London were already in the Tower as prisoners, so it was Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who met the queen and performed the service, at which there was much dismay among the people, for they said it had ever boded89 ill for England when the Archbishop did not crown the sovereign. The old coronation service with its full ceremonial was used, and the queen was very devout, kneeling long in silent prayer.
Four days later, the queen again rode to the Abbey, this time to open her Parliament. But the occasion did not pass by without some disturbances90, for some who refused to kneel while the Mass was being celebrated91 were turned out by force.
The restoration of her religion was the object dearer than all others to Mary's heart, and her unfaltering belief that in so doing she was working the will of God, added to her passionate92 enthusiasm for her faith, are the only excuses we can plead for her, when we shudder93 at the cruel persecutions which made England a land of terror during the next few years. Here it is only necessary to say that, as always, persecution94 purified and strengthened the very cause it was destined to destroy, and Mary, during her five years' reign, made her people hate her so bitterly, that nothing but her death prevented a general rebellion.
She died a wretched, lonely woman, conscious of her utter failure.
"My oppressed heart is pierced by many wounds," she said bitterly at the last.
Her funeral took place with much state, but the only real mourners were the priests and monks, who feared for their own fate. Mary had entreated95 that she might not be buried in royal array. Her crown had brought her no happiness, she said, and she did not wish to be encumbered96 by it now. Behind her coffin97 rode her ladies, with black trains so long that they swept the ground. Mass was said before the High Altar for the last time, while Fakenham, the last Abbot of Westminster, as he himself well knew, preached a great sermon on the dead queen, and, in a voice trembling with deep feeling, told how she was too good for earth, a veritable angel, who had found the realm poisoned with heresy98, and had purged99 it.
But his words found no echo in the heart of those around, and the funeral ended in a scene of disorder100, for the people had no respect for the dead, and plucked down all the hangings and draperies, while the Archbishop of York, "in the midst of the hurly-burly, pronounced that a collation101 was prepared," whereupon the lords, ladies, and knights102, with the bishops and Abbot Fakenham, hurried to another part of the building for dinner.
And no monument was erected103 to the memory of her who was the last queen of the old faith to be buried in the Abbey.
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1 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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2 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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3 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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4 stipulating | |
v.(尤指在协议或建议中)规定,约定,讲明(条件等)( stipulate的现在分词 );规定,明确要求 | |
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5 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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6 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
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7 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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8 sculptor | |
n.雕刻家,雕刻家 | |
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9 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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10 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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11 wrestler | |
n.摔角选手,扭 | |
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12 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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13 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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14 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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15 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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16 WHIMS | |
虚妄,禅病 | |
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17 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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18 wed | |
v.娶,嫁,与…结婚 | |
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19 lamentation | |
n.悲叹,哀悼 | |
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20 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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21 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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22 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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23 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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24 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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25 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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26 defender | |
n.保卫者,拥护者,辩护人 | |
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27 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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28 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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29 cleanse | |
vt.使清洁,使纯洁,清洗 | |
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30 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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31 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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32 monasteries | |
修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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33 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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34 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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35 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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36 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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37 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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38 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
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39 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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40 frugal | |
adj.节俭的,节约的,少量的,微量的 | |
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41 retinues | |
n.一批随员( retinue的名词复数 ) | |
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42 squandered | |
v.(指钱,财产等)浪费,乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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44 quenched | |
解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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45 covetousness | |
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46 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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47 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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48 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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49 vaulted | |
adj.拱状的 | |
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50 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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51 appropriation | |
n.拨款,批准支出 | |
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52 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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53 cloisters | |
n.(学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的)走廊( cloister的名词复数 );回廊;修道院的生活;隐居v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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54 commissioners | |
n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 );长官;委员;政府部门的长官 | |
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55 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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56 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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57 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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58 gauged | |
adj.校准的;标准的;量规的;量计的v.(用仪器)测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 );估计;计量;划分 | |
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59 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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60 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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61 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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62 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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63 gilt | |
adj.镀金的;n.金边证券 | |
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64 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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65 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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66 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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67 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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68 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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69 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
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70 cardinal | |
n.(天主教的)红衣主教;adj.首要的,基本的 | |
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71 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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72 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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73 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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74 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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75 reverent | |
adj.恭敬的,虔诚的 | |
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76 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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77 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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78 layman | |
n.俗人,门外汉,凡人 | |
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79 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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80 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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81 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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82 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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83 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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84 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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85 wrench | |
v.猛拧;挣脱;使扭伤;n.扳手;痛苦,难受 | |
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86 barge | |
n.平底载货船,驳船 | |
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87 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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88 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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89 boded | |
v.预示,预告,预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 );等待,停留( bide的过去分词 );居住;(过去式用bided)等待 | |
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90 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
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91 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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92 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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93 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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94 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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95 entreated | |
恳求,乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96 encumbered | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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98 heresy | |
n.异端邪说;异教 | |
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99 purged | |
清除(政敌等)( purge的过去式和过去分词 ); 涤除(罪恶等); 净化(心灵、风气等); 消除(错事等)的不良影响 | |
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100 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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101 collation | |
n.便餐;整理 | |
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102 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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103 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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